[
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\n  [Illustration: _A Map Showing Location of the California Missions_]\n  [Illustration: California Missions]\n  [Illustration: Fa\u00e7ade]\n              A GUIDE TO THE HISTORIC TRAILS OF THE PADRES\n               Illustrated with seventy-eight photographs\n                _Dean, College of Fine and Applied Arts\n                        University of Illinois_\n  [Illustration: Bell tower]\n             COPYRIGHT 1939 BY KARL F. BROWN AND FLOYD RAY\n                    GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING CO., Inc.\n  [Illustration: _Chapel, San Diego De Alcal\u00e1_]\n  [Illustration: _Fa\u00e7ade, San Diego De Alcal\u00e1_]\nAlong the strand of the Pacific between San Diego and Sonoma, the\nintrepid monks of the Order of Saint Francis strung that cordon of\nmissions that were to become, as time went on, the outposts of\ncivilization along the sunset coast of California.\nBegun in 1769, this chain of churches along _El Camino Real_ was\ncomplete by 1823, and in these establishments the devoted followers of\nPadre Jun\u00edpero Serra sought to win for Christ and the Crown of Spain\ndevotees among the dusky inhabitants of this land. How well they\nsucceeded may be judged when we learn that often in the more prosperous\nmissions as many as two thousand Indians were being trained at one time.\n  [Illustration: _Cloister, San Diego De Alcal\u00e1_]\nAnd what was the routine by which these fervent priests of Old Spain\nhoped to convert the backward natives of the coast into God-fearing,\nself-supporting and self-respecting subjects of his Hispanic majesty,\nthe king? The system of training prescribed plenty of work accompanied\nby instruction in the handcrafts and Christian doctrine. To this end,\neach day, the morning bell assembled the Indians in the chapel for\nprayers and mass. Following this, breakfast was eaten, after which each\nwent to his assigned task. At eleven o\u2019clock dinner was eaten; then a\nsiesta. Work, resumed at 2 P.M., continued until an hour before sunset,\nwhen the Angelus recalled all to worship. After prayers and rosary,\nsupper was eaten, after which recreation ensued until early bedtime.\n  [Illustration: _Bell Tower, San Diego De Alcal\u00e1_]\n  [Illustration: _Bell Tower, San Antonio De Pala_]\nThis was the happy pattern of life that obtained in these picturesque\nmissions which at once comprised the early churches, the first schools,\nthe first factories and the work-a-day habitations of the priests and\ntheir charges. Viewed in this light these old buildings become real\nhuman documents and are therefore very precious to all interested in the\nbeginnings of civilization within our broad land.\n  [Illustration: _Chapel, San Antonio De Pala_]\nThrough the glamor that time and an exotic origin have cast over these\nold monuments, they continue to hold for us a fascination matched by\nthat of few American structures. And, in journeying to these historic\nshrines, you will discover how these hard-headed priests, in sheltering\ntheir converts, created in simplicity and strength a type of\narchitecture which considered from the standpoint of practical living,\nclimatic background, materials of construction and ethnic significance,\nhas rarely been equalled in any land. What a matchless artistic heritage\nthey have left us!\n        _Dean, College of Fine and Applied Arts, University of Illinois_\n  [Illustration: _Bell Tower From Garden San Antonio De Pala_]\n  [Illustration: _San Luis Rey_]\n  [Illustration: _Entrance, San Luis Rey_]\n  [Illustration: Garden]\n  [Illustration: _San Juan Capistrano_]\nSan Diego was first visited by Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo in 1542, but it\nwas not until two hundred and twenty-seven years later that the fear\nthat Russia or England might take possession of California induced King\nCarlos III of Spain to organize an expedition to colonize the land. It\nwas in 1769 that a band of about two hundred men set out by land and sea\nto settle in Alta California. In the last company to come overland was\nPadre Jun\u00edpero Serra, who, although already advanced in age, had been\nappointed _Padre Presidente_ of the missions. This extraordinary man\nentered into a life of utmost hardship with a fiery enthusiasm that was\nnever dampened throughout his life, and to him we owe the chain of\nhistoric missions that provide the only link to connect us with the\nearly life of California and Spain. Twenty-one of these were established\nin California, forming an irregular line reaching from San Diego to\nSonoma, and connected by El Camino Real (The Royal Road). Today the\nmodern highway along the coast, U. S. 101, follows so closely the course\nof this road established by the pioneers one hundred and seventy years\nago that one can easily say one is following in the footsteps of Father\nSerra and his companions.\n  [Illustration: _Ruins of Chapel, San Juan Capistrano_]\n  [Illustration: _Inner Court, San Juan Capistrano_]\n  [Illustration: _Bell Court Fountain_]\n  [Illustration: _Mission Shops, San Juan Capistrano_]\n  [Illustration: _Ruins of Cloister_]\n  [Illustration: _Fountain Inner Court, San Juan Capistrano_]\nOn July 16th, 1769, sixteen days after his arrival in San Diego, Father\nSerra established the first mission in California\u2014the Mission San Diego\nde Alcal\u00e1. The original site was unsatisfactory so a spot was later\nchosen six miles back from the ocean in Mission Valley where the present\nbuildings now stand. San Diego was one of the wealthiest of the\nmissions. It had extensive orchards and vineyards, irrigated by an\naqueduct which brought water from the valley. Parts of the old mission\ndam which was twelve feet thick, may still be seen. The olive trees\naround the Mission form the mother orchard of all California mission\nolives. The whole Mission has been restored in every detail. Its belfry,\none of the most magnificent of all the missions, is a three-story wall\npierced by five arches in which hang the old bells.\n  [Illustration: _Entrance to Church, San Gabriel_]\n  [Illustration: _Bell Tower, San Gabriel_]\nFour miles inland from Oceanside, in a beautiful valley, stands Mission\nSan Luis Rey de Francia. The present buildings were started in 1811 by\nFather Peyri, who managed the Mission for thirty years. It is now used\nas a church and a Franciscan college. A feature not found in any other\nmission is the mortuary chapel, a small octagonal shaped room off the\nmain chapel. San Luis Rey is typically Spanish in its architecture and\nwhile not one of the most beautiful, it has a stately magnificence that\nnone of the other missions possesses.\n  [Illustration: _Side Entrance to Chapel, San Gabriel_]\n  [Illustration: _Fa\u00e7ade, San Fernando Rey_]\n  [Illustration: _Fountain, San Fernando Rey_]\n  [Illustration: _Fa\u00e7ade, Ventura_]\nTwenty miles inland from Mission San Luis Rey stands San Antonio de\nPala, founded as an asistencia. In its chapel are Indian frescoes\ncovered for many years with a coat of whitewash given the wall by a\nwell-meaning padre. Its campanile, in which hang the original bells,\nstands in the old cemetery. Pala, nestling at the base of the Palomar\nMountains, is a spot of enchanting beauty.\n  [Illustration: _Side Door, Ventura_]\n  [Illustration: _Chapel, Santa Barbara_]\nThe first attempt to found San Juan Capistrano was in 1775, but due to\nan Indian uprising Father Lasu\u00e9n was forced to return to San Diego. The\nnext year Father Serra came and established the Mission. It took nine\nyears to build and was the largest and most beautiful of all. In 1812\nthere was an earthquake that destroyed the buildings and killed forty\nIndians who were worshiping in the chapel. All of the buildings have\nbeen rebuilt except the chapel, of which one of the seven large domes\nstill stands in its lonely grandeur, a delight to the artist.\nCapistrano, elaborately decorated and artistically constructed, is\nsometimes called \u201cJewel of the Missions.\u201d\n  [Illustration: _Fa\u00e7ade, Santa Barbara_]\n  [Illustration: _General View, Santa Barbara_]\nSan Gabriel Arc\u00e1ngel was a welcomed pause in the long journey from\nMexico to Monterey; it was the first stop after crossing the desert and\nmountains. It is distinctively Moorish in its architecture. Its high\nbuttressed walls are stone to the windows and brick above and have an\noutside stairway to the choir loft and campanile. In the courtyard is\none of the largest and oldest grape vines in California.\n  [Illustration: _Doorway_]\n  [Illustration: _Altar, Santa Barbara_]\n  [Illustration: _Detail of Cloister_]\nAt one time Mission San Fernando Rey de Espa\u00f1a had an Indian population\nof eleven hundred. Today nothing remains of the Mission but one large\nbuilding. In it one can see the wine cellar and the large copper brandy\nstill. Across the street is a large star-shaped fountain copied from one\nin Cordova, Spain, a monument to the artistic work of the Indians.\n  [Illustration: _Detail of Fa\u00e7ade, Santa Barbara_]\nHalf-way between San Diego and Monterey, Father Serra founded the\nMission Buenaventura. It was the last founded by him. On a hill above\nthe mission he planted a cross that could be seen from both land and\nsea. Today, a replica of the cross stands in the same place. Ventura was\nnoted for its beautiful gardens but of these nothing remains except two\ntall palms. The chapel has been restored and is used daily as a place of\nworship.\n  [Illustration: _Side Door Detail_]\n  [Illustration: _Cloister, Santa Inez_]\n  [Illustration: _Detail of Fa\u00e7ade_]\n  [Illustration: _Detail of Cloister_]\n  [Illustration: _Chapel, Santa Inez_]\nMission Santa B\u00e1rbara has never fallen into a state of decay like its\nless fortunate sister missions, as it has always been in the hands of\nits founders, the Franciscans. Although damaged by numerous earthquakes,\nthe last in 1925, it has always been faithfully restored. The light\nabove the altar has never gone out, the old bells have faithfully rung\nthe call to Mass. Its walls, six feet thick and mellowed by time, impart\na lasting beauty. The bodies of over four thousand Indians lie in its\ntree-shadowed cemetery. In front of the Mission the trickling water from\nan old fountain gives one the restful feeling of the old Spanish siesta.\nIt was at this mission that the great historian, Father Engelhardt,\nwrote his great book, \u201cMissions and Missionaries of California.\u201d\n  [Illustration: _La Purisima_]\nMission Santa In\u00e9z was founded to convert the Indians who lived east of\nthe Coast Range. The Mission not only suffered from earthquakes but also\nfrom an Indian uprising. Today it has been restored to its former\ngrandeur. Its campanile with its three bells reminds one of Mission San\nGabriel. In its museum is a collection of old vestments and books.\nNothing remained of Mission La Pur\u00edsima Concepti\u00f3n but a few crumbling\narches, till it was taken over by the state. Today it stands in all its\nformer glory, faithfully restored in every detail. The Mission site was\nmade a State park and the restoration carried out by the Civilian\nConservation Corps. Pur\u00edsima stands as a monument to a nation\u2019s\nindustry, but lacks the peaceful state of religious tranquility found in\nthe other missions.\n  [Illustration: _Restored Interior, La Purisima_]\n  [Illustration: _Detail at end of Cloister La Purisima_]\n  [Illustration: _San Luis Obispo_]\nIt was at Mission San Luis Obispo de Tolosa that tile was first\nmanufactured. The buildings have lost much of their Spanish atmosphere,\nbut the interior is in a fair state of restoration. It is now the active\nCatholic Church of the city which was named after it. A few miles from\nSan Luis Obispo is the Asistencia of Santa Margarita, unique in that the\nentire ruins have been covered over by a large hay barn. Horses and\ncattle quietly munch their hay through the arched window openings.\n  [Illustration: _Sacristy, San Miguel_]\n  [Illustration: _San Miguel_]\nThe very walls of San Miguel Arc\u00e1ngel, due to its sympathetic\nrestoration, seem to echo the footsteps of the old padres. Inside the\nchapel the huge rafters, crudely hewn from logs, are painted in bright\ncolors. The design painted on the walls by the Indians show large fluted\npillars with a balcony and railing above. The floor is of burned brick,\nworn smooth by the tread of bare feet. Its crudely decorated pulpit and\nconfessional are the same as the day they were built. The Mission did\nnot have a bell-tower so the bell was mounted on a wooden scaffold. To\nenter the ancient edifice is to enter directly into the past.\n  [Illustration: _Detail of Cloister, San Miguel_]\n  [Illustration: _Forecourt, San Miguel_]\n  [Illustration: _Chapel_]\n  [Illustration: _Gate to Forecourt_]\n  [Illustration: _Entrance to Cloister_]\n  [Illustration: _Ruins of Arches, San Antonio De Padua_]\n  [Illustration: _Double Arched Window_]\nA few rain-washed adobe walls around which the wind blows constantly is\nall that is left of Mission Nuestra Se\u00f1ora Dolorissima de la Soledad. A\npicture of dreary desolation and aptly named, Our Lady of Solitude.\n  [Illustration: _Side View_]\n  [Illustration: _Arches_]\n  [Illustration: _Fa\u00e7ade, San Antonio De Padua_]\n  [Illustration: _Doorway to Sacristy, San Antonio De Padua_]\nFather Serra founded his third Mission, San Antonio de Padua, in a well\nwooded valley. When the bells rang in celebration an Indian appeared out\nof the trees, and for the first time a native was present at the\nfounding of a mission. Its quiet surroundings are very much as they were\nin the past. The buildings were constructed of brick instead of adobe.\nParts of a stone-walled irrigation ditch which brought water for many\nmiles still stand near at hand.\nMonterey was used as a mission for but one year and then became the\nPresidio Chapel. Behind the Mission is the tree under which the first\nMass in California was offered. Many of the old relics of the early\nChurch are preserved here. It is now the San Carlos Parish Church.\n  [Illustration: _Soledad_]\n  [Illustration: _Tower at San Juan Bautista_]\nWhen Father Serra decided to move the Mission from Monterey he chose a\nsite about five miles away where the Rio Carmelo enters the sea. Here he\nfounded Mission San Carlos Borromeo, which became the headquarters of\nthe _Padre Presidentes_ of the California missions. In its quiet\nsanctuary are the graves of Father Serra, Lasu\u00e9n, Crespi and L\u00f3pez,\nnames famous in the history of the missions. Father Serra spent most of\nhis life at San Carlos. His cell, measuring about eleven feet square,\nhas been restored. The building is Moorish in style.\n  [Illustration: _San Juan Bautista_]\nA replica in concrete has been built of Mission Santa Cruz. It is about\nhalf the size of the original and stands on the old Mission grounds.\nMission San Juan Bautista stands facing the plaza in the old pueblo of\nSan Juan. It was here that Helen Hunt Jackson began her famous story,\n\u201cRamona\u201d and Joaquin Murrietta, the famous Mexican bandit, worshipped.\nSan Juan saw great activity during the gold rush as it was a stage stop\non the road to the mines. The long arcade that extends the whole length\nof the building, contains twenty arches. In the garden is a sundial,\nplaced there by the padres. Its old cemetery is in an olive grove whose\ntrees cast fantastic shadows on the time worn headstones.\n  [Illustration: _Cloister_]\n  [Illustration: _Window_]\n  [Illustration: _Doorway at San Juan Bautista_]\n  [Illustration: _End of Cloister_]\n  [Illustration: _Garden, San Juan Bautista_]\n  [Illustration: _Cemetery at San Juan Bautista_]\n  [Illustration: _Arches_]\nOn the site of Mission Santa Clara de As\u00eds stands a concrete structure,\nthe chapel of the University of Santa Clara. All that remains of the old\nbuildings are a few tiles in the roof, and a part of the garden wall. In\nfront of the Church stands the old redwood cross, raised in 1777. It is\nnow encased in a sheathing of pine.\n  [Illustration: _Parish Church, Monterey_]\nMission San Jos\u00e9 de Guadalupe was at one time the most prosperous of all\nthe missions. In livestock alone it had 12,000 cattle, 13,000 horses and\n13,000 sheep. It was the centre of social life for the surrounding\nranches and the stopping place for the Forty-niners who used the Mission\nPass between San Francisco and the mines. Only a part of the living\nquarters remains today. Beside this building is the old cemetery, back\nof which is the Mission garden.\n  [Illustration: _Doorway, Monterey_]\n  [Illustration: _San Carlos De Borromeo_]\n  [Illustration: _Doorway, San Carlos De Borromeo_]\n  [Illustration: _Fountain Detail_]\n  [Illustration: _Gateway to Cemetery_]\nThere was nothing in the original plans of the missions to name one\nafter St. Francis, the founder of the Franciscan Order. The Mexican\nVisitador said, \u201cIf Saint Francis wishes a mission, let him show you a\ngood port, and let it bear his name.\u201d When Portol\u00e1 discovered San\nFrancisco Bay he decided that it was the place the Visitador meant, but\nit was not until seven years later that the Mission San Francisco de\nAs\u00eds was founded. It was commonly called Dolores after a small river\nthat flowed through the Mission grounds. It is quite different in its\narchitecture from the other missions. It has neither archway nor towers\nbut a massive fa\u00e7ade. Today it stands in quiet simplicity, surrounded on\nall sides by modern buildings of the Catholic Church.\n  [Illustration: _Bell Tower, San Carlos De Borromeo_]\n  [Illustration: _Santa Cruz_]\nIn the city of San Rafael stands a mission bell guidepost, marking the\nsite of Mission San Rafael Arc\u00e1ngel.\n  [Illustration: _Santa Clara_]\n  [Illustration: _San Jos\u00e9 De Guadalupe_]\n  [Illustration: _Porch_]\n  [Illustration: _San Francisco De As\u00eds_]\n  [Illustration: _Entrance to Cloister_]\nFear of the Russians caused the Governor to ask Father Altimira to\nestablish a mission at Sonoma. He did this without the sanction of the\nChurch authorities. Mission San Francisco Solano was the last and the\nmost northerly of the twenty-one missions. It is a plain low building,\nfacing the plaza.\nOf the twenty-one missions originally built one is completely gone,\nanother a crumbling wall of adobe, and the remainder in only partial\nrestoration. May they all some day be restored to their original\ngrandeur, and the romance and history of Old California again be found\nin their splendid old walls.\n  [Illustration: _Entrance to Chapel_]\n  [Illustration: _Cloister, San Francisco De Solano_]\n          LOCATION OF MISSIONS IN THE ORDER OF THEIR FOUNDING\n  San Diego de Alcal\u00e1    _July 16, 1769_  In Mission Valley six miles\n  San Carlos Borromeo    _June 3, 1770_   On the outskirts of village\n  San Antonio de Padua   _July 14, 1771_  Six miles from Jolon. Jolon\n  San Gabriel Arc\u00e1ngel   _Sept. 8, 1771_  In city of San Gabriel\n  San Luis Obispo de     _Sept. 1, 1772_  In centre of city of San\n  San Francisco de As\u00eds  _June 29, 1776_  In San Francisco at 16th\n    (Mission Dolores)                     and Dolores Streets.\n  San Juan Capistrano    _Nov. 1, 1776_   In village of San Juan\n  Santa Clara de Asis    _Jan. 12, 1777_  In the grounds of the\n  San Buenaventura       _March 31, 1782_ Located in city of Ventura\n  Santa Barbara          _Dec. 4, 1786_   In the city of Santa\n  La Pur\u00edsima Concepci\u00f3n _Dec. 8, 1787_   Five miles north of town of\n  Santa Cruz             _Aug. 28, 1791_  In city of Santa Cruz.\n  Soledad                _Oct. 9, 1791_   Ruins of this Mission are\n  San Jos\u00e9               _June 11, 1797_  About 15 miles north of San\n  San Juan Bautista      _June 24, 1797_  In town of San Juan\n  San Miguel Arc\u00e1ngel    _July 25, 1797_  Ten miles north of Paso\n  San Fernando Rey       _Sept. 8, 1797_  On outskirts of town of San\n  San Luis Rey           _June 13, 1798_  Five miles east of town of\n  Santa In\u00e9z             _Sept. 17, 1804_ Three miles east of town of\n  San Rafael Arc\u00e1ngel    _Dec. 14, 1817_  Nothing remains of Mission.\n  San Francisco Solano   _July 4, 1823_   In city of Sonoma, thirty\n  Royal Presidio Chapel  _June 3, 1770_   In city of Monterey.\n  [Illustration: Cross]\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and\n  dialect unchanged.\n--Moved some captions closer to the corresponding pictures.\n--In the text versions, delimited italicized text by _underscores_.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's California Missions, by Karl Frederick Brown\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CALIFORNIA MISSIONS ***\n***** This file should be named 55931-0.txt or 55931-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Adrian Mastronardi, Moti Ben-Ari, the Philatelic\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\nTHE POST OFFICE OF INDIA\n[Illustration: GROUP OF SENIOR OFFICERS OF THE POST OFFICE IN 1884\n  P. SHERIDAN  E. C. O'BRIEN  W. ALPIN  W. J. HAM  G. J. HYNES\n     RAI BAHADUR SUNDER LAL\n  H. M. KISCH  E. R. DOUGLAS  J. DILLON  F. R. HOGG  H. E. M. JAMES\n     E. HUTTON\n  THE POST OFFICE OF\n  INDIA AND ITS STORY\n  BY GEOFFREY CLARKE\n  INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE\n  WITH SIXTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS\n  LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD\n  NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY MCMXXI\n  _The Mayflower Press, Plymouth, England._ William Brendon & Son, Ltd.\nPREFACE\nWhen I first decided to write a short account of the Post Office of\nIndia my intention was to close my story with the amalgamation of the\nPost Office and the Telegraph Department, which took place in 1913.\nPublication has been delayed for various reasons, chiefly owing to\nthe outbreak of the war in 1914, and since then many strange things\nhave happened. Consequently I have had to revise several chapters and\nfelt compelled to write one upon the wonderful work done by the Indian\nPost Office in the Great War. I have also brought the statistical\ninformation up to the year 1918. Much of the matter referring to the\nearly posts in India has already been given in Mr. Hamilton's book,\n_An Outline of Postal History and Practice_. This is only natural, as\nwe have both drawn from the same sources--namely, the records of the\nPostal Directorate in Calcutta. I have tried to tell the story of the\nPost Office in such a way as to be interesting to the general reader as\nwell as useful to the student. The ordinary routine of post office work\nis not exciting, but the effect of the work, the benefits it confers,\nthe dependence of the public upon its proper execution, are themes to\ninspire the pen of a romantic writer. \"The Romance of the Post Office\"\nwas the title of a delightful article in _Blackwood's Magazine_ by Sir\nArthur Fanshawe, late Director-General of the Department, and to this\narticle I must acknowledge my obligations for several passages in the\nbook.\nI am much indebted to Mr. R. W. Hanson and Mr. F. F. Shout, Assistant\nDirectors-General of the Post Office of India, for their assistance in\nproducing this work. Mr. Hanson is responsible for the chapter on \"The\nPost Office in Mesopotamia and the Persian Gulf,\" and Mr. Shout for the\nchapter on \"The Sea Post Office\" and the paragraphs dealing with the\nThe chapter upon Indian stamps is based largely upon _The Postage\nand Telegraph Stamps of British India_, by Hausburg, Stewart-Wilson\nand Crofton, published by Messrs. Stanley Gibbons, and I am greatly\nindebted to Messrs. Stanley Gibbons for the loan of their blocks and\nfor permission to use them in this book.\nCONTENTS\n      IX. THE PEOPLE AND THE POST OFFICE                        88\n     XII. THE POST OFFICE IN INDIAN STATES                     112\n      XV. THE POST OFFICE IN MESOPOTAMIA AND THE PERSIAN GULF  137\n     XVI. THE POST OFFICE DURING THE INDIAN MUTINY             151\n    XVII. THE INDIAN FIELD POST OFFICE                         165\n   XVIII. THE INDIAN FIELD POST OFFICE DURING THE GREAT WAR    171\nAPPENDICES\n     B. EXTRACTS FROM THE EARLY REGULATIONS REGARDING\n     C. METHODS OF TRAVEL IN EARLY DAYS                        195\n     D. STATEMENT SHOWING THE WORK OF THE POST\n     E. STATEMENT OF INLAND MONEY ORDERS ISSUED\n     F. HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS OF THE CALCUTTA\n     G. EXTRACT FROM THE NARRATIVE OF THE INTERRUPTION\n          IN THE MAIL ARRANGEMENTS IN THE\n          N.-W.P. AND PUNJAB SUBSEQUENT TO THE\n          MUTINY AT MEERUT AND DELHI ON THE 10TH\n          POSTMASTER-GENERAL, NORTH-WEST PROVINCES             204\n     H. THE WORK OF THE FIELD POST OFFICE BETWEEN\n     J. THE POST OFFICE INSURANCE FUND                         232\nILLUSTRATIONS\n  Group of Senior Officers of the Post Office in 1884  _Frontispiece_\n  Sir Charles Stewart Wilson, K.C.I.E.                 _Facing page_ 24\n  Combined Passenger and Mail Motor Van                    \"         98\n  Victorian Issues of Postage Stamps                       \"        182\n  Edwardian and Georgian Issues of Postage Stamps          \"        184\nTHE POST OFFICE OF INDIA\nTHE POST OFFICE OF INDIA AND ITS STORY\nCHAPTER I\nTHE POST OFFICE OF INDIA\nTo anyone connected with the work of the Post Office of India it is\nalmost inconceivable that the present institution, with its vast\norganization and its elaborate system, has grown up in the course of\nlittle more than half a century. Previous to 1854 the Post Office was a\nmedley of services in different provinces, each having separate rules\nand different rates of postage. Regular mails were conveyed over a very\nfew main lines between important towns, and Collectors of districts\nwere responsible for the management of their own local post offices.\nThere were no postage stamps, and since rates were levied according to\ndistance, and distances were often unknown, the position of a postal\nclerk in a large office was a distinctly lucrative one. In large\ncantonments a military officer with plenty of other duties was usually\npostmaster, and his supervision was at best sketchy, especially during\nthe snipe shooting season.\nIn 1850 a Commission of the kind with which we are now so familiar\nboth in India and England was appointed to consider the state of the\npostal services, and the result of its deliberations was the Post\nOffice Act of 1854 and the conversion of the Post Office into an\nImperial Department under a single head called the Director-General.\nUniform rates of postage were introduced and postage stamps instead\nof cash payments were brought into use. That marvellous set of rules\nknown as the Post Office Manual was prepared, which has since grown\ninto four healthy volumes. Every Official in the Department is supposed\nto have the contents of these at his fingers' ends, but in reality\nfew have ever read them through, and anyone who attempted to obey all\ntheir instructions would find himself sadly hampered in the exercise\nof his duties. The appointment of a Director-General, by bringing the\nseparate services under a single administration, laid the foundation\nfor future progress. Suitable officers were recruited and were taught\ntheir duties, better pay and improved prospects of promotion were a\ngreat inducement to the staff to take an interest in the work, and\nthrough communications which took no account of district or provincial\nboundaries were established.\nThe gradual growth of the powers of the Director-General has largely\ndepended on the needs of the Department, and also, to an appreciable\nextent, upon his own strength of will and his personal relations with\nthe Member of Council, who controls the Department of Government to\nwhich the Post Office is subordinate.[1] The Director-General is\nassisted by two Deputy Directors, who are, in fact, the Secretaries of\nthe Post Office, and under these again are four Assistant Directors\nin charge of four main branches of Post Office work. All the above\nofficers have the title \"General\" attached to their designations in\norder to increase their self-respect, but I have omitted it to avoid\nan annoying reiteration. Of the three personal assistants, one has to\nbe a walking encyclop\u00e6dia since he is in personal attendance on the\nDirector-General; the others are financial and technical experts. The\noffice itself is under the immediate supervision of a titled Bengalee\ngentleman of considerable attainments, and his clerks are mostly\nBengalee graduates whose abilities are supposed to vary with their\nsalaries.\nFor the purposes of administration, the whole of India and Burma\nis divided into eight circles, corresponding with Presidencies and\nProvinces as far as possible. Each of these is under the control of\na Postmaster-General, who is sometimes a member of the Indian Civil\nService and sometimes an official of the Department. The powers of a\nPostmaster-General are great, his patronage is large and the working of\nthe Post Office is dependent on his capacity for railway travelling at\nall seasons of the year. His circle is divided into divisions in charge\nof Superintendents, who should be little understudies of himself.\nThe real business of the Department, however, is performed by post\noffices, and these are divided into head, sub and branch offices.\nThe head office is the account and controlling office of one or more\ndistricts and is in charge of a postmaster, who in large towns ranks\nas a divisional officer. The sub-office is under the control of a head\noffice for account purposes. It does all kinds of postal work and\nis always opened where there is a sufficiency of correspondence to\njustify its existence. The branch office is only intended for villages\nand places where there is no need of a sub-office. It is really the\npioneer of the Department for the purpose of opening up new areas\nto postal communications. In small places a branch office is put in\ncharge of a schoolmaster, a shopkeeper or any other local resident who\nhas sufficient education to keep the very simple accounts required,\nand by this means the Post Office is able to give the advantages\nof its great organization to villages which could never support a\ndepartmental office. A still cheaper agency is used for the outlying\nhamlets, which only receive and send a few letters a week. These are\nvisited periodically by the village or rural postman, who is a kind of\nperambulating branch office. He delivers letters and money orders, and\nalso receives articles for despatch. He sells stamps and quinine, and\nbeing a local man he has to face a certain amount of public opinion if\nhe doesn't act fair and square towards the villagers in his beat. In\nsome hill tracts he is provided with a bugle to announce his arrival,\nand to the inhabitants of these he brings news of the outside world;\nhe writes their letters and explains to them his own conception of the\nmysteries of the money order system.\nBut what would be the use of all these offices and all this\norganization without lines of communication? The chief lines are, of\ncourse, the railways, but they form a separate organization and will\nbe discussed in another chapter. For places off the railway there are\nmotor lines and tonga services, such as that sung by Kipling between\nKalka and Simla but now a thing of the past owing to the completion\nof the hill railway. The romance of the Post Office, however, must\nalways lie in the mail runner, or hirkara as he is called in old books\non India. The number of tigers sated with his flesh is past count,\nthe Himalayan snows have overwhelmed him, flooded rivers have carried\nhim off and oozy swamps sucked him down. But in the face of all these\ndangers, has the runner ever failed to do his duty? According to the\nstories, never, and in real life perhaps not more than once or twice.\n  Is the torrent in spate? He must ford it or swim.\n  Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb by the cliff.\n  The service admits not a but, nor an if,\n  While the breath's in his mouth, he must bear without fail\n  In the name of the Emperor--the \"Overland Mail.\"--KIPLING.\nPostal runners are largely drawn from the less civilized races of\nIndia, many of whom are animists by religion. They will face wild\nbeasts and wandering criminals, but will go miles to avoid an evil\nspirit in a tree. With them the mail bag is a kind of fetish which must\nbe protected and got to its destination at all costs. Dishonesty among\nthem is almost unknown and they are wonderfully true to their salt,\nwhich with them seldom exceeds twelve rupees a month. To prove that the\nold stories are not all myths, a case came before the Director-General\nrecently in a rather peculiar manner. The Audit Office, that soulless\nmachine which drives executive officers out of their minds, sent in\nan objection to a gratuity being given to the family of a runner who,\nwhen carrying the mails, had been eaten by a tiger. The objection was\nthat gratuities were only given for death in special circumstances,\nfor instance, when death occurred in the performance of some specially\ncourageous action, and that, since carrying the mails was part of the\nman's ordinary duty, his family was not entitled to any consideration.\nThe actual story of the runner's death, as told by the villagers and\nthe village watchman, is this: The runner's beat had been recently\nfrequented by a man-eating tiger, and several of the country people\nhad been carried off by him during the previous few days. On the\nafternoon in question the tiger was known to be in the neighbourhood,\nand when the mails arrived the villagers warned the runner not to go\nthen, but to wait until next morning. Since the man-eater was an early\nfeeder--that is to say, he killed his prey early in the afternoon,\nthe runner waited until five o'clock and then persuaded the village\nwatchman to accompany him. He hadn't gone more than two miles when out\ncame the tiger and seized him. The watchman escaped and took the mails\nto the next stage, and the family of the man who nobly faced death in\nthe execution of his duty was deprived of its wage-earner. This is a\nvery bald account of a really heroic deed, and it is pleasing to learn\nthat Mr. Levett Yeats, the Accountant-General of the Post Office at the\ntime, who was the very soul of romance and chivalry, dealt with his\nobjecting subordinate in a manner worthy of the heinous nature of his\noffence.\nThe road establishment of the Indian Post Office amounted to 18,160\npersons out of a total staff of 108,324 on the 31st March, 1918, so\nthere is some excuse for having devoted so much space to it. The postal\nstaff had to deal with over 1200 millions of articles during the year,\nof which, according to the Annual Report of 1917-18, only .22 per cent\nfailed to reach their proper destination. When one considers that there\nare more than twenty written languages in India in common use, and that\na large number of addresses are almost illegible and are mixed up with\ninvocations to the Deity and many other high-sounding phrases, one can\nonly say, \"Bravo, the Post Office! How do you do it?\" With such a\nlarge correspondence a handsome revenue might be expected, even when\nthe minimum rate for letters is a halfpenny; but the Indian is a frugal\nperson and he does most of his correspondence on farthing postcards, on\nwhich he can cram a great deal of information by carefully using every\navailable portion. Postcards were introduced in 1879 and now account\nfor nearly half of the articles handled. The private card, with a\nfigure of some favourite god or goddess, is competing strongly with the\nordinary Government postcard, and wonderful ingenuity is employed to\nenable the writer to avail himself of more space than the regulations\npermit. The unpaid letter is also much in evidence in India. There is\nan idea that a letter on which postage has to be collected is much more\ncertain to reach its destination than a prepaid one. This heretical\ndoctrine has been strongly condemned in several pamphlets issued by\nthe Director-General, but with little effect. And who knows? Perhaps\nthere is a certain amount of truth in it, founded on bitter experience.\nUnpaid postcards had to be abolished recently, when it was discovered\nthat they were universally read and then returned to the postmen\nas refused. The writer generally concealed his identity from the\nofficials, with the result that it was useless to try and recover the\npostage due.\nAmong a suspicious and ignorant people any innovation is likely to be\nlooked at askance, and this is especially the case in India, where the\nintroduction of postcards was received with suspicion, although their\nlow price ensured a ready sale. An extract from the _Amrita Bazar\nPatrika_, one of the foremost Indian papers, shows that they were not\nat first regarded as an unmixed blessing. The extract is taken from\nthe issue of the 18th July, 1879, and is as follows:--\n  \"Postal cards are now a rage all over India. There are men who, to\n  make the contents of the cards unintelligible, make them altogether\n  illegible. Some express themselves in hints which are not only\n  unintelligible to the postal clerk and peon, but to the person\n  addressed also. Others have got a notion that all letters, to be\n  sent either through the Post or through private harkaras, must be\n  written on postcards, that being the hookum[2] of the Sirkar; and it\n  is not unusual to see a fat and ignorant, though extremely loyal and\n  law-abiding, zemindar[3] sending his letters to his steward written\n  on half a score of postcards, one or two not sufficing to contain his\n  great thoughts. There are others who write their thoughts on postcards\n  and enclose them in an envelope, and attach a half-anna stamp before\n  posting. These men have naturally raised a loud complaint against the\n  unconscionable exactions of Government, and native papers given to\n  writing sedition should not let slip this opportunity of indulging\n  their profitable pastime. But the great difficulty is to teach the\n  people on which side of the card the address is to be written, and\n  we think it will be some years before they are enlightened in this\n  respect. But really does it matter much if the address is written on\n  the wrong side? We think that the people of India living under the\n  enlightened rule of the British should have the privilege of writing\n  the address on whichever side they like.\"\nWhat a merry time the poor sorters would have if the sentiments\nexpressed in the last sentence were given effect to! But doubtless\nthe _Amrita Bazar Patrika_, with its enlightened staff, its splendid\ncirculation and carefully printed addresses would scarcely maintain the\nsame opinions now.\nThe Post Office of India must be congratulated upon its good fortune\nin never having been regarded by Government as a revenue-producing\nDepartment, and as long as it paid its way with a small surplus the\nPowers were satisfied. Any excess was devoted to improvements in the\nservice, and full advantage has been given to this concession in past\nyears by the introduction of many reforms destined to meet the growing\nneeds of the country. Recently, postage rates were reduced to such\nan extent that for a few years the Post Office worked at a loss, a\nmost unsatisfactory state of affairs; however, a marked recovery is\nnoticeable already and it is again a self-supporting institution, the\ngross revenue for the year ending the 31st March, 1918, being more than\n416 lakhs[4] of rupees, which gave a net surplus of nearly 50 lakhs on\nthe year's working.\nFrom being merely an agency for the conveyance and distribution of\nletters and light articles, the Post Office has gradually undertaken\nan enormous amount of what may be called non-postal work. It deals\nwith vast numbers of money orders, collects the price of goods for\ntradesmen, pays pensioners, sells quinine, deals in Government loans,\nand is the poor man's bank, all of which matters will be dealt with\nseparately. It is to be hoped that no new line of business is going to\nbe taken up in the near future, such as the sale of railway tickets,\nwhich was once seriously proposed, or else the principal duty of the\nDepartment may be forgotten in the turmoil of the side shows.\nFOOTNOTES:\n[1] This is at present the Department of Commerce.\n[2] Order.\n[3] Landholder.\nCHAPTER II\nTHE ORIGIN OF THE POST OFFICE\nThe Postal System of India, like that of other countries, had its\norigin in the necessity of maintaining communication throughout the\nvarious parts of a great Empire in order that the Emperor might be\nkept continuously informed of what was taking place and might be able\nto keep in constant touch with the officers in charge of Provinces\nat a distance from the Capital. When Ibn Batuta was travelling in\nIndia in the middle of the fourteenth century he found an organized\nsystem of couriers established throughout the country governed at that\ntime by the great Mahomed Din Tughlak. The system seems to have been\nvery similar to that which existed in the Roman Empire, and is thus\ndescribed:\n\"There are in Hindustan two kinds of couriers, horse and foot; these\nthey generally term 'El Wolak.' The horse-courier, which is generally\npart of the Sultan's cavalry, is stationed at a distance of every four\nmiles. As to the foot-couriers there will be one at the distance of\nevery mile occupying stations which they call 'El Davah' and making on\nthe whole three miles; so that there is, at the distance of every three\nmiles, an inhabited village, and without this, three sentry boxes where\nthe couriers sit prepared for motion with their loins girded. In the\nhands of each is a whip about two cubits long, and upon the head of\nthis are small bells. Whenever, therefore, one of the couriers leaves\nany city he takes his despatches in one hand and the whip, which he\nkeeps constantly shaking, in the other. In this manner he proceeds to\nthe nearest foot-courier and, as he approaches, shakes his whip. Upon\nthis out comes another who takes the despatches and so proceeds to the\nnext. For this reason it is that the Sultan receives his despatches in\nso short a time.\"\nSome of the oldest runners' lines in India were established for the\npurpose of conveying fruit and flowers to famous temples, and Colonel\nBroughton in his most interesting book, _Letters from a Mahratta Camp_,\ndescribes one such line between Udeypore and Pushkar in Rajputana. In\nhis _Historical Sketches of the South of India_, Colonel Wilks tells\nus that among the earliest measures of Raja Chick Deo Raj of Mysore,\nwho came to the throne in 1672, was the establishment of a regular post\nthroughout his dominions. The Post Office in Mysore was not merely an\nordinary instrument for conveying intelligence, but an extraordinary\none for obtaining it. The postmasters were confidential agents of the\nCourt and the inferior servants were professed spies, who made regular\nreports of the secret transactions of the districts in which they were\nstationed. This system, which was more fully developed by Hyder Ali,\nbecame a terrible instrument of despotism. The Moghul Emperors kept\nup a regular system of daks, and Ferishta tells us that Sher Shah,\nduring his short reign of five years, 1541-1545, was the first who ever\nemployed a mounted post in India. He constructed a road from Sonarung\nin Bengal to the banks of the Indus in Sind, a distance of two\nthousand miles, and placed two horses on the road at every two miles.\nThe Emperor Akbar had post houses built at stages ten miles apart on\nthe principal roads and swift Turki horses were placed at each stage.\nOne of these post houses can still be seen on the road between Agra and\nSikandra.\nThe British do not appear to have found any established system of\ncommunication when they began to extend their dominion in India, and\nin the beginning of the eighteenth century it was a matter of no small\ndifficulty to send a letter more than a distance of one hundred miles.\nA regular postal system was first introduced by Lord Clive in 1766,\nand the zemindars or landholders along the various routes were held\nresponsible for the supply of runners to carry the mails. For this\nservice a deduction was made in their rents in proportion to the number\nof runners supplied. The order recorded in the Minutes of Consultations\nof the 24th March is as follows:--\n  \"FOR THE BETTER REGULATION OF DAUKS\"\n  \"Ordered that in future all letters be despatched from the Government\n  House; the postmaster or his assistant attending every night to sort\n  and see them sent off; that the letters to the different Inland\n  Settlements be made up in separate bags, sealed with the Company's\n  seal; that none may open the packets except the Chiefs at the\n  different places, who are to open only their own respective packets;\n  and\n  \"Ordered that they be directed to observe the same rule with respect\n  to the letters sent down to Calcutta.\"\n The following is an extract from the Public Proceedings 7th July,\n  \"As there have been of late frequent miscarriages of packets to and\n  from Madras without possibility of tracing the cause, not knowing\n  the stages where they do happen, as no advice is ever sent us by\n  the neighbouring Residencies, and as this on any emergency may be\n  attended with the worst of consequences, it is agreed to establish\n  the following Rules and communicate them to the Presidency of\n  Madras, recommending the same to be circulated to the factories and\n  Residencies subordinate to them, as we shall do to those dependent on\n  Bengal:--\n  \"That the packets henceforward be numbered in regular succession for\n  the present season from this time to the end of the year, and in\n  future from the 1st January to the last of December.\n  \"That the day and hour of despatch as well as the number be noted on\n  the tickets affixed to the packets; that on every packet the number\n  and date of the next preceding despatch be noted.\n  \"That in order to have the earliest information of the loss of a\n  packet at any time, the Resident or Chief of a factory shall regularly\n  give advice of the receipt of each packet to the Resident of the stage\n  from whence it came last.\n  \"That when any packets are found to be missing the Chiefs or Residents\n  at the two nearest stages shall immediately make it their business\n  to examine the Dauks or Tappies very particularly, and punish them\n  severely when they do not give a satisfactory account how the packets\n  came to be lost, giving advice in the meantime to each Presidency.\n  \"That the Postmaster at Calcutta and Residents at Balasore, Cuttack\n  and Ganjam do keep separate registers of despatches to and from Madras.\n  \"That all packets be sealed with the Governor's as well as the\n  Company's seal to prevent their being opened till they arrive at the\n  destined place.\n  \"And as we have reason to believe that by proper attention to the\n  Tappies, the communication with Madras may be more expeditious,\n  particularly between Vizagapatam and Bandermalanka, where making\n  allowances for passing the Rivers, it is remarked they are very tardy,\n  it is agreed to write to the gentlemen at Madras to mention this to\n  their subordinate factories that they may fall upon proper measures to\n  remedy it, and recommending small boats or saugarees to be stationed\n  at the different rivers.\"\nUnder the administration of Warren Hastings the Post Office in India\nwas placed on a better footing and steps were taken to make the posts\nwhich were established for official purposes more generally available\nfor private communications. In January, 1774, the details of a regular\nsystem were laid down, which was brought into force on the 31st March,\n1774. A Postmaster-General was appointed and postage was charged for\nthe first time on private letters. The lowest rate of letter postage\nwas two annas per hundred miles, and copper tickets of the value of two\nannas, to be used solely for postal purposes, were specially struck for\npublic convenience.\nIn November, 1784, revised regulations for the Post Office were laid\ndown which took effect in the province of Bengal from December of that\nyear. In 1785 Madras followed suit upon proposals made by Mr. J. P.\nBurlton, a junior civilian in Government service. He suggested the\nadoption of a regular postal system on the lines of Bengal, under which\nall letters except those on the public service should pay postage. In\n1786 Mr. Archibald Campbell was made Postmaster-General, Madras, and\narrangements were made for fortnightly services to Calcutta and Bombay.\nThere was some dispute between the Court of Directors and the Madras\nGovernment regarding the appointment of a Postmaster-General. The\nformer refused to accept Mr. Campbell and nominated Mr. Burlton; the\nlatter objected to Mr. Burlton and appointed Mr. Legge Wilks, who was\nshortly afterwards succeeded by Mr. Oliver Colt.\nFor the next fifty years the history of the Post Office is obscure. The\nterritory occupied by the East India Company in 1784 consisted of three\nisolated portions adjoining the three presidency towns of Calcutta,\nMadras and Bombay. The Company obtained the administrative control of\npart of the Carnatic and the provinces known as the Northern Circars\nin 1761. The fiscal administration of the provinces of Bengal, Behar\nand Orissa was handed over by the Delhi Emperor in 1765, and by the\nTreaty of Salbai in 1782 the Bombay Government retained the islands of\nElephanta and Salsette.\nIn 1798 Lord Wellesley arrived in India inspired by Imperial projects\nwhich were destined to change the map of the country. In 1799 Tippoo,\nSultan of Mysore, was defeated and slain at Seringapatam, and the\nCarnatic or south-eastern portion of India ruled by the Nawab of Arcot,\nas well as the principality of Tanjore, were placed under British rule.\nThese territories constitute the greater part of the present Madras\nPresidency. In 1801 the whole of the tract between the Ganges and\nJumna, known as the Doab, with Rohilkhand, were obtained by purchase\nfrom the Nawab Vizir of Oudh. In 1803, after the second Mahratta\nWar, Orissa was forfeited to the British and Berar to the Nizam of\nHyderabad. In 1815 the Himalayan States were taken from the Nepalese,\nin 1817 the Pindaris were crushed in Central India and in 1818, after\nthe third Mahratta War, the Bombay Presidency was formed. Assam was\nannexed in 1826, and Bharatpur taken in 1827.\nThe extension of postal services over this vast increase of territory\ncan be traced only by scattered references in official documents.\nThere was no general postal system in the country prior to 1837. A few\nmain lines of couriers connecting the principal towns in the various\nprovinces with the seat of Government had been established for the\nconveyance of Government letters and parcels, but the use of these\nmail services by private persons was conceded only as a privilege. The\nlocal posts in districts between police stations and head-quarters\nwere maintained by the zemindars or landholders of each district, and\ntheir duties in this respect are laid down in Bengal Regulation XX\nof 1817. The postmasters of Presidency towns exercised the functions\nof a Postmaster-General in their own provinces up to 1785, and the\nCollectors or district officers were responsible for post office and\nmail lines within the limits of their own jurisdictions. There was no\ncentral authority to secure the co-operation of postal officials in\ndifferent provinces or to maintain uniformity of procedure, and the\ncharges for the conveyance of letters, which, in the absence of postage\nstamps, were levied in cash, varied according to weight and distance.\nThus the cost of conveyance of a letter from Calcutta to Bombay was one\nrupee a tola (2/5 oz. approximately), and from Calcutta to Agra twelve\nannas a tola. As postal officials were inclined to get as much as\npossible out of the public, private posts existed everywhere and were\nable to compete successfully with the Government services.\nThe letters of Victor Jacquemont, who travelled in India in 1830 as\nNaturalist to the Royal Museum of Natural History, Paris, throw some\nlight on the working of the Post Office at the time. The post was\ncarried altogether by runners, and the travellers' bungalows on the\nvarious routes were under the Post Office. According to Jacquemont,\nthree servants were attached by the postal administration to each\nbungalow, to look after the comforts of travellers and to supply\nthem with palanquin bearers. Letters seem to have had very uncertain\ncareers. The usual time from France to Upper India was eight months.\nJacquemont had no great faith in the post. On several occasions he\ntrusts his letters to the Almighty to watch over during their travels.\nUnder the provisions of Act XVII of 1837 a public post was established\nand Government assumed the exclusive right to convey letters for hire\nin the territories of the East India Company. Uniformity was attempted\nby the issue to all post offices of elaborate polymetrical tables,\nwhich fixed the charges to be levied on the principal routes. The Act\nof 1837 caused a great deal of dissatisfaction owing to the abolition\nof many private and well-organized services which were not at once\nreplaced, or else replaced very inefficiently, by Government services.\nThe landholders had to pay a local cess to maintain the District Posts,\nand they felt it a distinct grievance that they should have to pay\nfor the upkeep of these, as well as fees for their correspondence,\nwhile all official letters were carried free of charge. An inquiry\nmade by Captain Taylor of the Bengal Establishment into the working\nof the 1837 Act brought many of these grievances to light, and on his\nrecommendation certain improvements were made in the interests of the\nlandholders. Thus there grew up in India a dual system of posts--on the\none hand, the Imperial Post, which controlled all main routes and large\noffices; on the other, the District Post, which was entirely local and\ncontrolled the rural services in each district. The establishments were\nquite separate, and where the two systems came in contact there was\noften a great deal of friction.\nThe principle on which the District Post was based was the liability\nof landholders to maintain communications for Government purposes\nbetween the executive head of a district and his subordinates in\noutlying places--a responsibility which in many instances they were\nglad to discharge by a money payment to the magistrate who undertook\nthe organization of the requisite agency. The laws under which it was\nadministered were framed with the object of levying a small cess in\neach district. This was used, at the discretion of the magistrate,\nfor the payment of dak-runners and other persons who conveyed\ncorrespondence between police stations and district officials. This\nlocal post undoubtedly existed from ancient times, and its maintenance\nwas a liability to which the landholders had been subject from a period\nlong before the advent of British rule.\nThe District Post in India, which was an important, though not very\nefficient, auxiliary to the Imperial Post, thus owed its origin to the\nneed for maintaining the means of official communication between the\nhead-quarters of each district and the revenue and police stations in\nthe interior, where the general wants of the locality were not such as\nto call for the provision of Imperial post offices. It consisted of\nlines of communication connecting such stations, and was maintained\nprimarily for the conveyance of official correspondence in accordance\nwith the requirements of each district, but subsequently it was also\nmade available for private correspondence.\nIn some parts of the country the cost of the District Post lines was\nmet by local cesses specially levied for the purpose, and in other\nplaces it was met from Imperial or provincial grants as a charge on the\ngeneral revenues of the country.\nOriginally the District Post in India was managed by district officers\nor other local officials quite independently of the Imperial Post, but,\nin order to increase the efficiency of the service, Local Governments\nand Administrations were asked to transfer the management to the\nofficers of the Imperial Post Office. The North-Western Provinces (now\nUnited Provinces) Government was the first to accept the proposal,\nand the management of the District Post there was taken over by the\nPostmaster-General of the circle in the year 1864. This arrangement\ndid not constitute an incorporation of the District Post with the\nImperial Post, but merely a transfer of the management of the former\nto the officers of the latter, the financial control of the District\nPost remaining as before with the Local Government. As was anticipated,\nthis measure led to rapid development of private correspondence, an\nacceleration of the speed at which the mails were carried and a marked\nimprovement in the postal arrangements in the interior of districts.\nConsequently the objections which were at first raised in many quarters\nwere silenced, and the other Local Governments and Administrations\nsoon fell into line, so that in the course of the next fourteen years\nthe management of the whole of the District Post throughout India was\ngradually transferred to the Imperial Post Office.\nAs the number of Imperial post offices increased the primary object of\nthe District Post became less important and its funds were devoted more\nand more to the extension of rural delivery and postal facilities in\nbackward rural tracts. As these tracts developed and the postal traffic\nproduced sufficient revenue to cover the expenditure the Imperial Post\ntook them over, and the money thus set free was used to start offices,\nlines and rural messengers in country not yet opened. In this way\nthe District Post acted the part of pioneer to the Imperial Post and\ngreatly assisted its progress.\nIn 1903, in connection with the revision of the Provincial Settlements,\nthe Government of India decided to abolish the exceptional arrangement\nunder which, in some provinces, a portion of the revenue and\nexpenditure in connection with the District Post was included in the\nProvincial accounts. It was ordered that from the commencement of\nthe new settlements all such receipts and charges which were then\nProvincial would be made Imperial. In accordance with this decision\nall the District Post establishments in the Presidencies of Bengal\nand Madras and the Province of Assam, which were formerly paid from\nProvincial funds, were brought directly on the general establishment\nof the Imperial Post Office with effect from the 1st April, 1904. Two\nyears later the Government of India decided to take over the remaining\nDistrict Post charges in India, and the District Post was abolished\nentirely with effect from the 1st April, 1906. It was at the same time\nordered that from that date every postal charge would be an Imperial\none and that no postal charges of any description whatsoever might be\nincurred from Provincial or Local funds.\nIn 1850 three Commissioners, Messrs. Courtney, Forbes and Beadon,\nwere appointed by the Government of India to inquire into the methods\nfor making the Post Office more efficient and more conducive to the\nconvenience of the public than it had been hitherto.\nIn 1851 the Commissioners, after making exhaustive inquiries, presented\na report which dealt with every phase of Post Office work, and on this\nreport has been based the whole fabric of the present administration.\nThe most important questions discussed were:\n  (1) The necessity for a uniform rate of postage irrespective of\n  distance.\n  (2) The need for prepayment of postage by means of adhesive postage\n  stamps.\n  (3) The fixing of a low initial rate of postage.\n  (4) The abolition of franking.\n  (5) The formation of the Post Office as an Imperial Department under a\n  Director-General, with Postmasters-General in each province who would\n  not be subject to the authority of the Local Government.\n  (6) The publication of Manual Rules for the use of postal officials.\n  (7) The establishment of sorting offices at suitable places.\n  (8) The introduction of money orders.\n  (9) The regulation of the Bhangy or Parcel Post.\n  (10) The introduction of cheap and uniform postage for newspapers,\n  books, pamphlets, etc.\n  (11) The transfer of District Posts to the Imperial Post Office.\nThe report of the Commissioners is contained in a bulky volume of some\nsix hundred pages, of which the preamble is most interesting and throws\na great deal of light on the domestic history of India in the first\nhalf of the nineteenth century. The reforms are based throughout on the\nprinciple that the Post Office is to be maintained for the benefit of\nthe people of India and not for the purposes of swelling the revenues,\nand it is greatly to the credit of the Government of India that in all\ntimes of stress and strain, as well as in times of prosperity, they\nhave loyally observed this principle, although there have been many\ntemptations to act contrary to it.\nWith the advance of postal administration in India in the last sixty\nyears we can hardly realize the difficulties that had to be faced in\n1851. One of the chief ones was the poverty of the great bulk of the\npopulation, many of whom could ill afford to spend even the smallest\nIndian coin, namely, one pie, a twelfth part of a penny, on anything\nthat was not necessary for their own sustenance.\nIn dealing with this matter the following remarks of the Commissioners\nare very interesting:--\n  \"In considering what plan of postage is best suited to the\n  circumstances of India, and most likely to conduce to the convenience\n  of the public, the social and commercial advancement of the country,\n  and the ultimate financial advantage of the department, the difference\n  between the circumstances of the European and native portion of the\n  community must be distinctly borne in mind. It must be remembered\n  that the former are very few in number, but, generally speaking, well\n  educated and in affluent circumstances; that they are accustomed and\n  inclined to social correspondence, for which, from being collected\n  at particular stations throughout the country, they have great\n  facilities; and are comparatively little hindered from indulging in\n  it by the expense which it entails on them, being for the most part\n  regardless of the pecuniary advantage which they might derive from a\n  more careful attention to the weight of their letters. The natives,\n  on the other hand, are incalculably more numerous than their European\n  fellow-subjects. Upon the moderate assumption that there are two\n  thousand natives for every European, and that not more than 1 per cent\n  of the former can read and write, still there must be twenty natives\n  for every European who can correspond by the post without assistance,\n  provided that the means of paying postage are within their reach,\n  and that the receipt and delivery of their letters are facilitated.\n  But they are poor, and, though well inclined to correspond, greatly\n  prevented from doing so by the present high rates of postage to\n  distant stations, and still more by the distance which separates the\n  mass of them from the nearest post office, and by the consequent\n  trouble, expense, uncertainty and perhaps loss, which the receipt and\n  despatch of their letters involve. The occupations in which large\n  numbers of natives are engaged connected with the internal trade of\n  the country are such as naturally to render their correspondence on\n  matters of business far more extensive than that of Europeans, the\n  greater part of the latter being engaged in the service of Government\n  and not under the necessity of writing letters except on their own\n  personal concerns or those of their friends. With the improvement\n  of the means of communication, extension of trade and the gradual\n  spread of knowledge throughout the country, the instructed and writing\n  portion of the native community will continue to bear an increasing\n  ratio both to the rest of their fellow-countrymen men and to the\n  European residents in India, but to the bulk even of these the amount\n  they can afford to expend on the postage of their letters must ever\n  be a matter of strict economical calculation. It may be regarded as\n  certain that the utmost care will always be observed by the native\n  community in keeping the weight of their letters within the minimum\n  chargeable weight; and unless some considerable reduction is made in\n  the existing rates of postage to distant places they will continue to\n  resort to ingenious contrivances for the purpose of saving expenditure\n  under that head, or avoiding it altogether.\"\nThe practice of \"clubbing\" or of enclosing a number of small letters in\none cover addressed to a person who undertook to deliver them by hand\nwas very common in India before 1850 and is not unknown at the present\ntime. When the difference in cost between a single and double letter\nwas considerable, this practice entailed a great loss of revenue to the\nPost Office, and in order to stop it the Commissioners proposed to make\nthe unit of weight a quarter of a tola and to charge extra postage for\neach quarter tola of weight. The unit finally adopted was half a tola,\nas it was thought that Post Office clerks would have difficulty in\ndetecting such small divisions of weight as a quarter of a tola. At the\nsame time heavy penalties were imposed on clubbing, and the practice\nhas gradually fallen into disuse.\n[Illustration: SIR CHARLES STEWART WILSON, K.C.I.E.\nDIRECTOR GENERAL 1906-1913]\nUniformity of postage irrespective of distance had many opponents at\nthe time. It was recommended by the Commissioners on the ground of\nfairness, simplicity and the facilities it gave for the introduction\nof other improvements into the department. To use their own words:\n\"Combined with a low rate of charge, it forms the conspicuous and\nchief benefit which the monopoly of the carriage of letters enables\nGovernment to confer upon the whole body of its subjects, by almost\nannihilating distance and placing it within the power of every\nindividual to communicate freely with all parts of the Empire. It\nmakes the Post Office what under any other system it never can be--the\nunrestricted means of diffusing knowledge, extending commerce and\npromoting in every way the social and intellectual improvement of the\npeople. It is no longer an experiment, having been introduced with\neminent success into the United Kingdom as well as into the United\nStates of America, France, Spain and Russia.\"\nThere was a strong body of opinion in favour of the compulsory\nprepayment of postage in all cases on the ground that in India it was\nmost difficult to collect the postage due on bearing letters; in fact,\nthe letters were usually sent open, read by the addressees and then\nrefused, so that both the sender and recipient got all they wanted out\nof the Post Office for nothing. However, wiser counsels prevailed. It\nwas recognized that compulsory prepayment might mean great hardship in\nmany cases, and the English system of charging double postage on unpaid\narticles was adopted.\nThese few extracts are sufficient to show the fine spirit that pervaded\nthe work of the Commissioners. They were true Imperialists and never\ntook the petty view, but adhered to the maxim of the greatest benefit\nto the greatest number. Their names are forgotten, but the result of\ntheir labours has remained in the fine organization now known as the\nPost Office of India.\nCHAPTER III\nEARLY POSTAL REGULATIONS\nAct XVII of 1837, the earliest enactment establishing a proper\npostal system in India, repealed Bombay Regulation XI of 1830 which\ndeclared all private dawks within the Bombay Presidency to be illegal.\nIt conferred the exclusive right of carrying post for hire on the\nGovernor-General in Council and fixed the penalty for evasion of this\norder at Rs.50 for each letter. The Bhangy Post was opened to the\npublic with the condition that letters exceeding 12 tolas must be sent\nby bhangy wherever such a line existed. The Governor-General in Council\nwas authorized to frame a scale of distances, according to which the\nrates for inland postage should be calculated and also to fix the\nrates for steamer and ship postage. Strict regulations were laid down\ncompelling commanders of vessels to deliver all letters on board to the\npost office at each port of call, also to receive all letters handed\nover to them by the post office at any port. The commander of the\nvessel received one anna for each letter delivered or received.\nWe find the origin of the Dead Letter Office in Sections 25 to 27 of\nthe Act. Unclaimed letters after lying for three months at any post\noffice were to be sent to the General Post Office of the Presidency,\nand at intervals, not exceeding three months, lists of such unclaimed\nletters and packets were to be published in the Official Gazette, When\nletters and packets lay unclaimed for a period of eighteen months at\nthe General Post Office, the Postmaster-General was authorized to open\nthem and pay any valuable property found therein into the Government\nTreasury for the benefit of the party having a right to it. After a\nfurther period of twelve months unclaimed letters were to be destroyed.\nThe Governor-General in Council had the power to grant to any person\nthe privilege of sending and receiving all letters and packets by\nletter post free of postage, and of sending and receiving letters and\npackets by bhangy on the public service free of postage. This privilege\nwas granted to the following persons:--\n  His Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State.\n  The President and Secretaries of the Board of Control.\n  The Chairman, Deputy Chairman and Directors of the East India Company.\n  The Secretary, Deputy Secretary and Assistant Secretary at the East\n      India House.\n  The Governor-General.\n  The Governors of Bengal, Madras and Bombay.\n  The Governor of Ceylon.\n  The Lieutenant-Governor of the North-West Provinces.\n  The Chief Justices of Bengal, Madras and Bombay.\n  The Bishops of Calcutta, Madras and Bombay.\n  The Members of the Supreme Council.\n  The Members of Council of Madras and Bombay.\n  The Puisne Judges of the Supreme Courts of Bengal, Madras and Bombay.\n  The Recorder of Prince of Wales' Island, Singapore and Malacca.\n  The Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty's Naval Forces.\n  The Commander-in-Chief of the Army in India.\n  The Commander-in-Chief of the Army at Madras and Bombay.\nPostage was charged for letters according to the following schedules:--\n  _Distance_    _Postage for a letter not_\n  _in miles._   _exceeding 1 tola._\nSingle postage to be added for each additional tola or part thereof.\nSpecial rates for distance were also fixed for:\n  (1) Law papers, Accounts and Vouchers attested as such, with the full\n  signature of the sender.\n  (2) Newspapers, Pamphlets and other printed or engrossed papers,\n  packed in short covers open at each end, imported matter being charged\n  at a cheaper rate than matter printed in India.\nParcels were limited to 600 tolas (15 lbs.) in weight, and the rate\nwas 6 annas for 50 tolas (20 oz.) for 50 miles, then 3 annas for every\nadditional 50 tolas or part thereof for every 50 miles up to 300 miles,\nafter which 3 annas was charged for each 50 tolas for every additional\n100 miles up to 1000 miles. For 1200 miles the rate was Rs.2 as.13 for\nevery 50 tolas, and for 1400 miles and upwards Rs.3.\nBy Act XX of 1838 the weight of letters and packets which could be\ncarried by a road on which there was no bhangy post was raised from\n12 to 30 tolas, and the postmaster was allowed to use his discretion\nin forwarding packets exceeding 30 tolas. It was also enacted that\n\"all fines incurred under Post Office Acts shall be demanded by notice\nfrom Postmasters-General or from any Postmaster, and if not paid shall\nbe levied together with costs on goods and chattels. If no goods are\nforthcoming the offender may be committed to prison for twenty-two\ncalendar months unless the fines, etc., are sooner paid.\" Postmasters\nwere authorized to detain any letter in respect of which any party was\nliable to a fine.\nAct XVII of 1839 empowered the Governor-General in Council to alter\npostage duties as fixed by Sections 6 and 14 of the Act, but not to\nincrease them.\nThe fact that postage rates were fixed with respect to distances in\n1837 is not a matter for surprise when the state of Indian roads at the\ntime is considered. In 1833, Shore, in his _Notes on Indian Affairs_,\ndescribes the main road between Calcutta and Benares as no better than\na cart-track, and says that the only road worthy of the name in India\nis that between Calcutta and Barrackpore. Nor was it until 1854, with\nthe abolition of the old Military Boards and the establishment of the\nPublic Works Department, that the art of road-making began to improve.\nIt will thus be understood that in 1837 the maintenance of postal\nlines was a real difficulty. All mail matter had to be conveyed by\nrunners, and a slight extra weight entailed a considerable extra cost.\nWith the introduction of railways in 1852 and good metalled roads,\nupon which light wheeled carriages could be used for the conveyance of\nmails and passengers over long distances, a complete change in postal\nadministration was effected, and it was no longer necessary to vary the\nrates for letters according to distance.\nWith all the advance made in postal legislation and the regulation\nof rates there was not yet any Controlling Head. The Post Office\nwas managed by Postmasters-General who were also postmasters in the\nPresidency Towns, while Collectors of Districts had charge of post\noffices upcountry. Receipts were still granted for every article\nreceived for despatch, and in the Bombay Presidency the addresses of\nall articles were entered in lists known as puttees; these were given\nto the postmen who brought back the addressees' signatures on them. The\naddresses upon all articles passing in transit through the Post Office\nwere also recorded; bags were not used, only packets of paper or cloth.\nThe English Mail at this time was received once a month and, since\nnot more than 200 lbs. weight of mails could be conveyed along the\nBombay-Calcutta line in one day, a week was often required for its\ndisposal. Originally the opium merchants had their own lines, and\non these being stopped they used to send private expresses by the\nGovernment dawk, which was a great source of revenue to the Post\nOffice.\nAct XVII of 1854 marks the commencement of the organization of\nthe Indian Post Office upon its present footing. According to its\nprovisions the whole department was placed under the control of a\nDirector-General; the office of Postmaster-General was separated from\nthat of Presidency Postmaster; Postmasters-General were appointed for\nthe direct administration and supervision of the postal services in the\nlarger provinces and Deputy Postmasters-General, at first designated\nChief Inspectors, were appointed to the less important provinces and\nthe principal Political Agencies. Postage stamps were first introduced\nin 1854 and rates were fixed for the conveyance of letters irrespective\nof distance.[5]\nIn this Act the postal monopoly of the East India Company was again\nlaid down, and the three exceptions to that monopoly were legalized,\nnamely (1) letters sent by a private friend to be delivered on his way\nor journey to a person, without any hire or reward for such service;\n(2) letters solely concerning the affairs of the sender or receiver\nthereof sent by a messenger on purpose; (3) letters solely concerning\ngoods or other property sent by land or sea, to be delivered with such\ngoods or property without any hire or reward for carrying the same.\nIt was important to include these exceptions in the Act, as under the\nPost Office Act of 1837 there was nothing to prevent a man who sent a\nletter to his friend by messenger incurring a penalty of Rs.50, a fine\nto which both the messenger and recipient were equally liable.\nThe great advance made in 1854 was the introduction of postage stamps\nand the fixing of postage rates for letters irrespective of distance.\nThe rates were as follows:--\n  On every letter not exceeding \u00bc tola in weight, 6 pies.\n  On every letter exceeding \u00bc tola and not exceeding \u00bd tola in weight, 1\n  anna.\n  On every letter exceeding \u00bd tola and not exceeding 1 tola, 2 annas.\n  On every letter exceeding 1 tola and not exceeding 1\u00bd tolas in weight,\n  3 annas.\n  On every letter exceeding 1\u00bd tolas and not exceeding 2 tolas in\n  weight, 4 annas.\n  And for every tola in weight above 2 tolas, 2 additional annas.\nWith respect to newspapers and engraved papers a distinction, similar\nto that laid down in the Act of 1837, was made between imported and\nlocally produced matter. The former was charged with 2 annas for every\n6 tolas or part thereof; the latter was charged at the following\nrates:--\n  Two annas for a weight not exceeding 3\u00bd tolas.\n  Four annas for a weight not exceeding 6 tolas, and 2 annas for every\n  additional 3 tolas above 6 tolas.\nThis difference in postage encouraged the circulation of newspapers and\nprinted matter imported from England, but the high internal rates must\nhave greatly hampered the postal circulation of journals printed in\nIndia.\nReduced rates, but still varying with distance, were laid down for\nBhangy Post according to the following scale:--\n                  |tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.\nBooks, pamphlets, packets of newspapers and of printed and engraved\npapers were charged at the following rates by bhangy post:--\n  Not exceeding 20 tolas                 1 anna\n  Exceeding 20 tolas and not exceeding\n  For every 20 tolas above 40 tolas      1 anna\n  provided that the total weight must\n  not exceed 120 tolas.\nThe postage on bhangy parcels was calculated by the most elaborate\nPolymetrical Tables which were supplied to all post offices in English\nand Vernacular. Many a grievous complaint was laid by members of the\npublic against the strange methods employed by the Post Office in\ncalculating the distance between two places. The sender of a parcel\nnaturally considered that he should pay for the shortest distance\nbetween the place of despatch and the place of receipt, but not so the\nPost Office. It decided that the \"postal route,\" however circuitous,\nwas the one by which postage should be calculated.\nLetters were ordinarily limited to 12 tolas in weight, but by Act XX of\n1838 the weight had been raised to 30 tolas upon lines where no bhangy\npost existed; this limit was now raised to 40 tolas (1 lb.) and, where\nboth a bhangy and letter post were conveyed in the same carriage, a\nspecial prohibition was made that letters or packets of newspapers\nof less than 12 tolas weight must not be sent by bhangy post under\npenalty of a fine of Rs.50 for each offence. This clause was evidently\nintroduced on account of the charge made by the railway companies for\nthe carriage of bhangy parcels.\nThe 600 tola limit for parcels was continued except in special cases\nwhich were laid down by the Governor-General in Council, but in no\ncircumstances was the weight of any parcel to exceed 2000 tolas (50\nlbs.). Ship postage was levied on parcels, when conveyed by the East\nIndia Company's post by sea, at the rate of 8 annas for each 100\ntolas. When any parcel had to be conveyed by bhangy as well as by sea,\nthis postage was levied in addition to bhangy postage. Letters and\nnewspapers for Ceylon or any place where no postal communication was\nestablished by the East India Company were dealt with as unclaimed,\nunless the full postage was prepaid by means of postage stamps.\nWith the introduction of postage stamps we now find the first\nregulations for encouraging the prepayment of postal articles. In\nSection 20 it is laid down that, where the East India Company have a\npostal communication, double postage shall be charged on unstamped\nletters at the time of delivery, and in the case of insufficiently\nstamped letters double the deficiency. This rule did not apply to\nnewspapers or other printed matter, but in order to compel the public\nto use the new postage stamps, post offices were forbidden to accept\nmoney in prepayment of any postal articles except parcels. Redirected\nletters were charged with postage at prepaid rates, and a penalty\nof Rs.200 was imposed for sending \"any explosive or other dangerous\nmaterial or substance by post.\"\nRules were drawn up for the use and sale of postage stamps, vendors\nwere appointed, and heavy penalties were exacted from vendors who\nfailed to comply with the regulations. Registration of any article was\nallowed upon payment of a fee of 4 annas which entitled the sender to\na receipt, but, strange to say, the registration fee had to be paid in\ncash, stamps not being recognized in payment.\nThe clauses of Act XVII of 1837 regarding the obligations of commanders\nof vessels were renewed, and also the clauses dealing with unclaimed\nand refused articles. The privilege of free postage was entirely\nabolished, but the letters and packets sent on the public service by\ncertain officials were still carried under frank. The postage due on\nsuch articles was charged to the several public departments concerned.\nThis measure led to wanton extravagance in the matter of official\npostage, no care was taken to economize either in the number or the\nsize of \"public service\" articles and various abuses of franking\noccurred. The list of officers authorized to frank became so large that\nthe Post Office could not exercise any proper check, and the difficulty\nof accounting in connection with the postage due was enormous. The\nfirst restriction was placed on franking in 1866 when the use of\nservice stamps was made compulsory on all letters passing outside the\nPresidency towns or limits of the district in which they were posted,\nand in 1873 all franking privileges were abolished.\nIn Section 48 of the Act the duty of the Post Office to abide by the\nCustoms regulations is insisted upon. Officers in charge of post\noffices were bound to detain articles suspected of containing anything\ncontraband, and they could refuse to forward any parcel or packet\naddressed to a foreign post, unless it was accompanied by a Customs'\nHouse Pass. A long list of penalties, most of which exist at the\npresent day, was drawn up for offences and misdemeanours committed by\npostal officials. Informers were encouraged by being allowed to receive\nhalf of every fine imposed, but no proceedings could be taken against\nany one under this Act without an order in writing from Government, the\nDirector-General or a Postmaster-General.\nIn 1854 Mr. Riddell was appointed the first Director-General of the\nPost Office, and he compiled the first Manual of Rules to be observed\nby the whole Department. At this time there were 201 head-quarter\noffices and 451 minor offices in India, but every office kept its own\naccounts separately and submitted them direct to the Audit Office which\nwas part of the Accountant General's Office. It was not until 1861 that\npostal accounts were removed from the Civil auditors and handed over\nto an officer known as the \"Compiler of Post Office Accounts\" and not\nuntil 1866-7 that the distinction between Head and Branch offices was\nmade for account purposes.\nThe Manual of 1854 made no proper arrangement for sorting offices,\nit only provided for mails being received _en masse_ and for their\ndistribution afterwards to peons and into the \"thana\" and forwarding\nboxes. Every post office upon a line had to make up a separate mail\npacket for every office in advance, and it received one from every\noffice in rear, a most cumbersome proceeding, which was put a stop to\nin 1860, when long detentions were made at certain large stations upon\nthe main routes for the purpose of sorting the mails. Paid letters\nwere impressed with a red date-stamp to distinguish them from unpaid,\nwhich bore a black date-stamp. Letters for foreign countries were sent\nwith steamer postage invoices (chalans) to the different Presidency\ntowns. Prepayment of articles sent to England via Marseilles, for which\nBrindisi was substituted in 1870, was not possible, nor could letters\nfor countries like the United States be prepaid.\nIt seems hardly credible that in 1854 one of the longest chapters of\nthe Manual was devoted to an elaborate system of fining, under which\ndifferent offices claimed fines from one another for bad work brought\nto light by them. The official who detected the finable offence was\nallowed to keep the amount of the fine subject to a deduction of 10\nper cent, which was remitted to the Postmaster-General's office to\ncover the cost of printing Fine Statements, Bills, etc. A regular\nschedule of offences with the fine allotted for each was drawn up; for\ninstance, the missending of a mail bag was assessed at Rs.3, while\nthe missending of a parcel or packet cost 8 annas. Naturally there\nwas great energy expended in detecting offences for which fines were\nimposed, and the result was an enormous amount of correspondence and\nbitter recrimination between offices. This vicious practice continued\nfor many years and was not finally put a stop to until 1880.\nFOOTNOTE:\n[5] The first issue of postage stamps in India was actually made in\n1852 by Sir Bartle Frere, Commissioner of Scinde. They were local\nstamps for use in Scinde only, and bore the inscription \"Scinde\nDistrict Dak.\"\nCHAPTER IV\nLATER POSTAL REGULATIONS\nBy Act XIV of 1866 postage rates were still further reduced as\nfollows:--\n  For letters not exceeding \u00bc tola          6 pies.\n  Exceeding \u00bc tola and not exceeding\n  For every additional \u00bd tola                 1  \"\n  For newspapers not exceeding 10 tolas       1  \"\n  For every additional 10 tolas               1  \"\nIt will be noticed that the distinction in rates between imported and\nlocal newspapers was withdrawn.\nBooks, pamphlets, packets, etc.--\n  Not exceeding 10 tolas in weight      1 anna.\n  For every additional 10 tolas         1  \"\nParcels were still charged according to the distance they had to be\nconveyed, but the rates were reduced. The following table gives the\nscale of charges:--\n                  |tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.\nIt was now ordered that registration upon letters, the fee for which\nwas still fixed at 4 annas, should be prepaid in postage stamps. The\npenal clauses relating to counterfeiting stamps had been included in\nthe Indian Penal Code, Act XLV of 1860, and were therefore omitted from\nthis Act. The other penal clauses were practically the same as those\nthat existed in the Act of 1854, and the principle is again laid down\nof the non-responsibility of Government for any loss or damage which\nmay occur in respect of anything entrusted to the Post Office for\nconveyance.\nFrom 1866 the work of the Post Office began to develop enormously, and\nits functions had to be gradually extended to meet the growing needs of\nthe public. In 1869 the charge on redirected letters was abolished and\nthe letter postage rates were further reduced as follows:--\n  For letters not exceeding \u00bd tola             6 pies.\n  Exceeding \u00bd tola but not exceeding 1\n  For every additional tola or fraction\nThe antiquated system of making parcel post rates vary with distance\ncould no longer be maintained, and in 1871 a system of rates which\nvaried with weight, irrespective of distance, was introduced. A parcel\npost service was established between India and England in 1873, but the\ncollection and distribution of parcels were at first effected through\nthe agency of the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company, and it\nwas not until 1885 that the Post Offices of both countries undertook\nthe management of the parcel post. In 1873 special postage rates were\nintroduced for official articles, namely:\n  Not exceeding \u00bd tola           \u00bd   anna.\n  Not exceeding 10 tolas         1    \"\n  Not exceeding 20 tolas         5   annas.\n  Not exceeding 30 tolas        10    \"\n  Every additional 10 tolas      5    \"\nAt the same time it was laid down that official covers from Government\noffices should be prepaid by means of service postage stamps.\nUnder the provision of the Act of Parliament (III-IV Vict. Cap. 69)\nsoldiers and seamen were allowed the privilege of sending letters not\nexceeding half an ounce in weight at the rate of 1d. for each letter.\nThis rate was introduced into India in 1854, and 8 pies was reckoned\nthe equivalent of 1d. In 1874 the postage on such letters was fixed at\n9 pies for half an ounce owing to the increase in the rate of exchange.\nIn 1899 the Imperial Penny Postage scheme was introduced, by which the\ninitial rate of postage to the United Kingdom and to certain British\ncolonies and possessions was fixed at 1 anna for a letter not exceeding\nhalf an ounce in weight, so that the privilege enjoyed by soldiers and\nseamen was no longer of any advantage, and when in 1907 the initial\nrate under the Imperial Penny Postage Scheme was raised from half an\nounce to 1 ounce there was no further object in retaining this special\nconcession.\nIn 1877 the Value-Payable or Cash on Delivery system was introduced,\nand in 1878 the Post Office undertook the insurance of letters and\nparcels. At first there was no limit to the amount for which an article\ncould be insured, until a claim for the contents of a parcel insured\nfor Rs.60,000 showed the enormous liabilities which the Department\nmight incur under this system. Accordingly, in 1890 the limit was fixed\nat Rs.1000, but was raised in 1898 to Rs.2000, and the procedure was\ngreatly simplified. The insurance fee was originally fixed at one-half\nper cent, which was subsequently reduced to a quarter, and in 1905 to\none-eighth per cent.\nPrevious to 1880 the money order work of the country was carried on by\nthe Government Treasuries, and the procedure was rather cumbersome; in\nthat year it was handed over to the Post Office, with the result that\nin a few months the number of money orders issued and paid quadrupled.\nThe extent to which money order business has increased may be gauged\nfrom the fact that the value of inland money orders in 1880-81 was\n45 millions, and in 1917-18 it had increased to over 617 millions of\nrupees.\nIn 1870 Government Savings Banks were first established in India in\nconnection with District Treasuries, and in 1882 permission was given\nto open savings bank accounts at post offices, but the management\nand control of the funds still remained with the Treasuries. In 1885\nall savings banks at Treasuries were closed and the business was\ntransferred entirely to the Post Office. The general development of\nthis branch will be treated of in the chapter on Savings Banks, but,\nas an example of the growth of business, the figures of 1882-83 and of\n1913-14 are remarkable. In 1882-83 there were 39,121 depositors with\na balance of Rs.27,96,730; in 1913-14 there were 1,638,725 depositors\nwith a balance of Rs.23,16,75,467.\nIn 1883 combined post and telegraph offices were introduced, and it\nis no exaggeration to say that these are solely responsible for\nthe extension of telegraph facilities to the smaller markets and\nrural tracts of India. In 1884 the sale of British postal orders was\nauthorized, and the same year marks the introduction of Postal Life\nInsurance, a measure at first confined to servants of the Department\nbut afterwards extended to all Government servants. In 1890, at the\nrequest of the military authorities, the Post Office undertook the\npayment of military pensioners in the Punjab.\nIn this way the Department has grown. From being a mere agency for the\ncarriage of correspondence and parcels in 1866, the Post Office has\nnow become the poor man's bank; it does an enormous value-payable and\nmoney order business; it is an important insurance agency and pension\npaymaster, and to such an extent have postage rates been reduced in\nIndia that it would be hard to find a man who could not afford to\ncommunicate by post with his friends.\nNeedless to say, the Post Office Act of 1866 was quite unsuited to\nmodern needs, and Act VI of 1898 was framed to deal with the new\nrequirements of postal work. The 1866 Act was amended by Act III of\n1882, which authorized any officer of the Post Office empowered in this\nbehalf by the Governor-General in Council to search for newspapers\nregarding which a notification had been published under the Sea Customs\nAct. By Act III of 1895 powers were provided in accordance with the\ngeneral policy of the Postal Union for dealing with fictitious or\npreviously used postage stamps of other countries found on articles\nreceived from abroad, and by Act XVI of 1896 the Post Office was\nauthorized to collect Customs duty paid in advance in the same manner\nas postage under the Act.\nAct VI of 1898 is to a great extent an Enabling Act which reserves\nto Government the power of dealing by rule with numerous questions\nof postal practice and procedure affecting the public. For the first\ntime legal recognition was given to registered newspapers, and the\nGovernor-General in Council was empowered to make rules for their\nregistration in the offices of Postmasters-General. The acceptance of\nthe official marks of the Post Office on postal articles as prima facie\nevidence that they have been refused, that the addressee cannot be\nfound, or that any sum is due on them, was a principle taken from the\nEnglish Law.\nSection 20 of the Act was quite new and prohibits the sending by\npost of indecent or obscene articles, and the tendency of the age is\nshown by the first mention in this clause of the word \"sedition\" in\nconnection with postal articles. \"Articles having thereon or on the\ncover thereof any words, marks or designs of an indecent, obscene,\nseditious, defamatory or grossly offensive character\" were prohibited\nfrom being sent by post. The wording of this section is interesting\nowing to the difficulty of interpreting the meaning of the word\n\"thereon\"; it would almost seem that the framers of the Act wished to\nwrap this clause in ambiguity. In Section 22 the important principle\nof the English Law is laid down that the Post Office is not bound to\nsend parcels and packets along with the letter mail, but may detain\nthem as long as is necessary. By Section 25 special power is given to\nsearch for goods notified under the Sea Customs Act, and in Section\n26, the Public Emergency section, \"The Governor-General in Council,\nor a Local Government, or any officer specially authorized in this\nbehalf by the Governor-General in Council, may, by an order in writing,\ndirect that any postal article or class or description of postal\narticles in course of transmission by post shall be intercepted or\ndetained.\" Had the framers of this Act any idea of the extent to which\nthis power would have to be used they might have expressed themselves\nin greater detail.[6] Sections 30 to 36 and 43 to 48 of the Act deal\nwith the power of the Governor-General in Council to make rules for\nthe insurance of postal articles and the transmission of value-payable\narticles and money orders by post.\nTo judge from the large number of additional penalty clauses introduced\ninto this Act, postal crime seems to have grown side by side with\npostal development. Every possible misdemeanour and fraud is visited\nwith appropriate punishment; not even the mail runner who fails in his\nduty to appear at the time he is required can escape, while the postman\nwho makes a false entry in his book to show that he has been visiting\na certain village, when all the time he has been loitering in a\nneighbouring bazaar, renders himself liable to six months' imprisonment\nor a fine of one hundred rupees. Sections 62 and 63 are taken from the\nEnglish Post Office Protection Act, 1884, and impose penalties for\ninjuring the contents of any letter-box or for disfiguring any post\noffice or letter-box. To prevent hasty and ill-considered prosecutions,\nit was laid down in Section 72 that no Court should take cognizance\nof any offence under the Act, except with the previous sanction or\non the complaint of the Director-General of the Post Office or of a\nPostmaster-General.\nIn 1898 postage rates on letters were reduced to the following scale:--\n  Not exceeding  \u00bd tola                 \u00bd   anna.\n  For every additional 1\u00bd tolas or fraction\nThe postage on newspapers was fixed at:\n  Not exceeding  4 tolas                \u00bc   anna.\n  For every additional 20 tolas or part\nIn 1905 a still further reduction in letter postage was made, namely:\n  Not exceeding  \u00be tola                 \u00bd   anna.\n  For every additional 1\u00bd tolas or fraction\nIn 1907, after a long discussion, it was decided to make the Indian\nanna rate approximate to the English penny rate. The British Post\nOffice had decided to carry 4 ounces for one penny, and as an ounce\nis roughly 2\u00bd tolas the weight that could be sent for an anna was\nincreased from 1\u00bd to 10 tolas. The \u00be tolas for \u00bd anna was very\nproperly considered absurd, and the weight was raised to 1 tola. The\nrates as revised in 1907 were:\n  Not exceeding 1 tola                  \u00bd   anna.\n  For every additional 10 tolas or fraction\nThis was a sweeping measure which mainly benefited that portion of the\ncommunity which could best afford to pay high rates of postage, and\nthe argument for making the anna rate correspond to the penny rate in\nEngland left out of account the very important fact that in England the\nminimum rate for letters was a penny, whereas in India it is half that\namount. It is difficult to estimate what the loss to the Post Office\nmust have been, but when one considers that a letter of 10 tolas,\nwhich under the previous rates would have had to bear 7 annas postage,\ncould be sent for 1 anna it will be understood that the loss was\nconsiderable. The measure was also one that affected the Post Office\nin two ways, since less revenue was received in postage stamps and the\nincreased number of bulky letters necessitated a larger carrying staff.\nDespite the admitted cheapness of postage in India, some short-sighted\nagitators cry out for a \u00bc anna letter rate; but the Post Office can\nwell afford to disregard their murmurings and may congratulate itself\non having made its services accessible to even the very poorest member\nof the community.\nBy Act III of 1912 the Indian Post Office Act of 1898 was further\namended, and special rules were made to protect postmasters who had to\nsearch or detain articles passing through the post. The public who use\nthe value-payable system have been protected from fraudulent traders\nby a section which provides for the retention and repayment to the\naddressee, in cases of fraud, of money recovered on the delivery of\nany value-payable postal article; at the same time the Post Office is\nauthorized to levy a fee before making any inquiry into complaints of\nthis kind.\n[Illustration: GROUP OF SENIOR OFFICERS IN 1898\n  C. STEWART-WILSON  G. S. CURTIS  W. MAXWELL  C. J. BADSHAH\n  J. CORNWALL  H. M. KISCH  SIR ARTHUR FANSHAWE  A. T.  FORBES\nSince the Great War broke out in 1914 it has been found necessary to\nincrease inland postage rates for both letters and parcels. In 1918 the\nletter rates were fixed as follows:--\n  For letters: Not exceeding 1 tola           \u00bd anna.\n    Exceeding 1 tola, but not exceeding 2\u00bd\n    For every additional 2\u00bd tolas or part\n  For parcels: Not exceeding 20 tolas         2 annas.\n    Exceeding 20 tolas, but not exceeding\n    For every additional 40 tolas or part\nMany complaints were received that the parcel rates were excessive\nand injuring the fruit trade and other local industries, so that with\neffect from the 1st June, 1919, the rates were reduced to 3 annas for\nevery 40 tolas up to 440 tolas, the minimum of 2 annas for 20 tolas\nremaining the same.\nFOOTNOTE:\n[6] The first instance of an article being prohibited from passing\nthrough the post is that of the _Bengal Gazette_ (editor, J. A. Hicky),\nquoted by Dr. Busteed in his _Echoes of Old Calcutta_:\n\"_Order._ Fort William, November 14th, 1780. Public notice is hereby\ngiven that as a weekly newspaper called the _Bengal Gazette_ or\n_Calcutta General Advertiser_, printed by J. A. Hicky, has lately been\nfound to contain several unbroken paragraphs tending to vilify private\ncharacters and to disturb the peace of the Settlement, it is no longer\npermitted to be circulated through the channel of the General Post\nOffice.\"\nCHAPTER V\nPARCEL POST\nThe parcel post in India has its origin in the old \"Bhangy Post,\" a\nname derived from the bamboo stick or bhangy which an Indian carrier\nbalances on his shoulder with the weights slung at each end. The Bhangy\nPost was first used solely for the conveyance of official records\nand articles sent on Government service, and the limit of weight was\n600 tolas (15 lbs.). In 1854 a regular Bhangy Post was established\nand opened to the public. The rates varied with weight and distance\naccording to the scale laid down in the Post Office Act of 1854.\nWhere communication by rail existed, the practice was to hand over\nbhangy parcels to the railway at the latter's risk and to demand their\nconveyance to destination free of charge. This procedure led to a\nseries of those acrimonious disputes which are so characteristic of the\nearly relations between the Post Office and the railway companies. The\ncontention of the Post Office was that the bhangy mail formed part of\nthe regular mail which the railway was bound by law to carry free of\ncharge. The East India Railway, which took up the cudgels on the other\nside, denied this contention and insisted upon charging for parcels\nas goods sent by passenger train. Finally, after much wrangling, the\nmatter was settled by Government in 1855, when it was decided that\nservice bhangy parcels should be carried free and that the rate for\nnon-service parcels should be fixed at 1/3 anna per maund (80 lbs.) per\nmile, which was the existing rate for passengers' luggage. At the same\ntime the Post Office was directed to withdraw from the carrier traffic\nwherever the railway could supply its place, and post offices were\nforbidden to accept non-service bhangy parcels for places situated on\nrailway lines.\nThese rules were not very effective, since it was impossible to\ndistinguish service from non-service parcels or to ascertain the weight\nof the latter when they were both despatched together and lump sum\npayments were accepted. The amounts paid show that the traffic cannot\nhave been very great; for instance, in 1871 the Great India Peninsula\nRailway agreed to accept a monthly payment of Rs.568, the Madras\nRailway Rs.173 and the Bombay, Baroda and Central India Railway Rs.150,\nwhich was afterwards raised to Rs.400 in 1881. The whole question was\nsoon merged in that of general haulage rates for postal vehicles, which\nis discussed in the chapter upon the Railway Mail Service.\nThe statement at the end of this chapter shows the variation in\nparcel rates from 1866 to 1919. The first great step forward in the\nadministration of the parcel post was in 1871, when rates according\nto distance were abolished and a fixed rate of 3 annas for 10 tolas\nwas introduced. The limits of weight were retained at 600 tolas for\nfoot lines and 2000 tolas for railway lines, which were fixed in\n1869. In 1895 rates were reduced and registration for all parcels\nexceeding 440 tolas in weight was made compulsory. In 1907, after a\nstrong representation made by the Railway Conference that the parcel\npost was interfering with the railway parcel traffic, the limit of\nweight was lowered to 800 tolas (20 lbs.). As a matter of fact, after\na careful inquiry it was found that very few parcels above this weight\nwere carried by the Post Office and that these were carried at a loss.\nIn the same year the rates for small parcels were greatly reduced,\nwith the result that the total number carried in 1907-8 increased by\nover 600,000. The railways did not gain much by the concession, as\nthe retail dealers adopted the simple device of packing their goods\nin smaller bulk, which the low rates enabled them to do without any\nappreciable loss.\nThe development of parcel traffic since 1854 is shown by the following\nfigures:--\nThe increase in the last few years is little short of marvellous and is\ndue to the reduction in rates and the growth of the value-payable or\ncash on delivery system so largely adopted by all retail traders, which\nhas diverted the whole of the light parcel traffic from the railways to\nthe Post Office.\nIn 1873 an overland Parcel Post was established between Great Britain\nand India through the agency of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam\nNavigation Company. The British Post Office had no concern with this\narrangement, and in 1885 a direct exchange, which was quite separate\nfrom the P. & O. Company's contract, was introduced between the two\nadministrations for parcels up to a limit of seven pounds in weight. In\n1897, at the Universal Postal Congress held at Washington, India joined\nthe International Parcel Post Union, and since 1899, when the Acts of\nthe Congress came into force, parcels can be exchanged with almost any\ncountry in the world.\nAs already mentioned, nothing has affected the parcel post traffic of\nthe country to such an extent as the value-payable or cash on delivery\nsystem, which was introduced in 1878 and is now used generally by\nall retail firms in India. By this system the Post Office not only\nundertakes to deliver a parcel, but also, for a small commission, to\ncollect the cost of it from the addressee. In India, where there are\nfew large firms outside the Presidency towns, the value-payable system\nhas proved an inestimable convenience to the upcountry purchaser, who\npays the Post Office for his purchases on receipt and is put to no\nfurther trouble. Like everything designed for the good of mankind, the\nValue-Payable Post is not altogether an unmixed blessing, and it is\na source of continual worry to the officials of the Department. The\nweak point in the system is that people have to buy articles without\nseeing them, and if they are disappointed in their purchases they are\ninclined to think that the Post Office is at fault and to demand their\nmoney back. It is customary in India for certain ladies to dispose\nof their garments through the medium of the advertisement columns of\nthe _Pioneer_, one of the leading newspapers. The dresses are always\nby Paquin and quite new; the hats are the latest from Paris. This is\nthe seller's point of view. How different that of the purchaser! As\nPostmaster-General I have received many a bitter complaint of the rag\nwhich has been received under the name of a new Paquin gown and for\nwhich I apparently was held personally responsible. \"I never imagined\nthat the Post Office could lend its assistance to such disgraceful\nswindling,\" once wrote an indignant lady who had suffered in this way\nand who was told that the Department could not possibly adjudicate on\nthe quality of the goods received by her, that the Department was only\nin the position of carriers and that she must settle her dispute with\nthe sender.\nThe value-payable system suffers chiefly from the firm belief in\nProvidence which is so deeply engrained in the Eastern mind. Although\nstrictly forbidden by the rules of the Post Office, the small trader\nsends out numbers of articles by value-payable post to persons who\nhave not given any orders for them, trusting that some of them will\nbe accepted by a confiding public, and, strange to say, he manages to\ndo a certain amount of business in this way. On the other hand, many\npeople are quite ready to order things from shops which they hope to\nbe able to pay for upon arrival, but, unfortunately for the firms that\nsupply them, these hopes are often not fulfilled. The Indian schoolboy,\nwho is very like all other schoolboys in the world in this respect, is\nspecially tempted by the flashy catalogues issued by the cheap Calcutta\nfirms, and when, in the enthusiasm of the moment, he orders a five\nrupee watch, it doesn't follow that he has the money or is even likely\nto have it; but his self-esteem is satisfied by the mere issue of the\norder and, as for his ability to pay when the time comes, it lies on\nthe knees of the gods. The result of this trait in Eastern character\nis that about 20 per cent of the value-payable articles posted are\nreturned to the senders.\nSome years ago a firm of box-makers who wanted to push their business\ndiscovered that the value-payable post, assisted by the national\ncharacter, provided them with a royal road to success, and they set\nto work on the following lines. They issued a large number of tickets\nby post, which were delivered on payment of 1 rupee and 2 annas. Any\nperson who was innocent enough to accept one of these found that the\nticket was composed of six coupons, and that if he could induce six\nof his friends to send the coupons to the firm and each to receive\nin return a similar ticket _and pay for it_, then he as the original\nrecipient would be presented with a steel trunk. The success of this\nscheme was extraordinary, and every post office in India was flooded\nwith these coupon tickets. About 70 per cent were refused, but the firm\nlost nothing by this, as it saved them in the matter of trunks, since,\nif any one of the coupon holders failed to keep faith with his friend\nthe bargain was off. The whole business was a gigantic swindle, and\nit so offended the Director-General's sense of morality that he had\na regulation passed to put a stop to any articles being sent by post\nwhich contained \"coupons, tickets, certificates or introductions for\nthe sale of goods on what is known as the snowball system.\"\nA complete history of the Indian Parcel Post would require the pen\nof a military historian. It is a history of warfare with continuous\nengagements, sometimes regular pitched battles with the railways and\nsometimes small but sharp skirmishes with irate ladies. The latest\nfoes are the municipal councils of certain large towns in which\nthe revenue is raised by an octroi tax upon all imported articles.\nHitherto articles received by post have been exempt from any tax of\nthis kind, and all attempts made by municipalities to be allowed\nto scrutinize the parcel post have been strenuously opposed. The\nthin end of the wedge has, however, been introduced at Delhi, where\nlists of insured parcels are supplied to the municipality, which\nmakes its own arrangements for ascertaining the contents from the\naddressees. The practice is wrong in principle, because it is a\nbreach of the confidence which the public place in the Post Office on\nthe understanding that no information of any kind regarding postal\narticles is imparted except to the persons immediately concerned, and\nany measure which tends to shake the confidence of the public in the\nsecrecy of the Department is to be strongly deprecated. A great deal\nof fuss was made in Simla some years ago about this very matter on the\nground that the local traders suffered from people purchasing goods\noutside the municipality and getting them in by post. When an inquiry\nwas held, it was found that the large majority of parcels received\nby post were addressed to the firms in the town, a discovery which\nput a sudden stop to the agitation. It is very doubtful if the Parcel\nPost at the present rates pays the Post Office, and where places are\nsituated some distance off the line of rail and have to be reached by\nfoot lines it is quite certain that every parcel is carried at a loss.\nUnfortunately these are the very places where people make the greatest\nuse of the Parcel Post; the tea planters of Assam, for example, getting\ntheir whisky, jam and other stores in this way from Calcutta.\nA further agitation is now afoot to have the weight of parcels brought\ndown to eleven pounds, which is the maximum weight for a foreign parcel\nand is also the limit of weight in England. This, on the whole, is as\nmuch as the Post Office can be fairly expected to carry, but whether\nthe proposal will be adopted remains to be seen.\nPARCEL POST RATES\n(1) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 1866 to 31st\nMarch, 1878:\n                   |tolas.|tolas.|tolas |tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.|tolas.\n(2) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 1st April, 1878,\nto 14th August, 1880:\n  Not exceeding 40 tolas in weight        8 annas.\n  Exceeding 40 tolas and not exceeding\n  For every additional 40 tolas           4  \"\n(3) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 15th August, 1880,\nto 31st July, 1895:\n  Not exceeding 20 tolas in weight        4 annas.\n  Exceeding 20 tolas and not exceeding\n  For every additional 40 tolas           4  \"\n(4) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 1st August, 1895,\nto 30th June, 1901:\n  Any parcel not exceeding 20 tolas in\n  Any parcel exceeding 20 tolas, but not\n    exceeding 40 tolas in weight          4 annas.\n  For each additional 40 tolas or fraction\nRegistration fee (optional for uninsured parcels not exceeding 440\ntolas in weight)--\n  For a parcel not exceeding 20 tolas in\n  For a parcel exceeding 20 tolas in\n(5) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 1st July, 1901, to\n30th September, 1907:\n(_a_) Parcels not exceeding 440 tolas in weight--\n  For a parcel not exceeding 20 tolas in\n  For a parcel exceeding 20 tolas, but\n    not exceeding 40 tolas in weight        4  \"\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\n(_b_) Parcels exceeding 440 tolas in weight--\n  For a parcel exceeding 440 tolas, but\n    not exceeding 480 tolas in weight       Rs.3\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\n(6) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 1st October, 1907,\nto 31st October, 1918:\n(_a_) Parcels not exceeding 440 tolas in weight--\n  For a parcel not exceeding 40 tolas in\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\n[Illustration: SIR WILLIAM MAXWELL, K.C.I.E.\nDIRECTOR GENERAL POSTS AND TELEGRAPHS 1913--1918]\n(_b_) Parcels exceeding 440 tolas in weight--\n  For a parcel exceeding 440 tolas, but\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\n(7) From 1st October, 1908, the maximum limit of weight for an inland\nparcel was reduced from 2000 tolas to 800 tolas in the case of a\nprivate (non-official) parcel, and raised from 600 tolas to 800 tolas\nin the case of an official parcel.\n(8) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 1st November,\n  For a parcel not exceeding 20 tolas       2 annas.\n  For a parcel exceeding 20 tolas, but not\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\n(9) Rates of postage on inland parcels in force from 16th May, 1919, up\nto date:\n(_a_) Parcels not exceeding 440 tolas in weight--\n  For a parcel not exceeding 20 tolas       2 annas.\n  For a parcel exceeding 20 tolas, but not\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\n(_b_) Parcels exceeding 440 tolas in weight--\n  For a parcel exceeding 440 tolas, but\n  For every additional 40 tolas or part of\nCHAPTER VI\nTHE RAILWAY MAIL SERVICE\nOne of the most important branches of the Post Office is the Railway\nMail Service, which used to be called the Travelling Post Office. The\nrailways are the arteries through which the very life-blood of the\nDepartment flows, and it is upon the arrangements for the conveyance of\nmails by rail that proper postal administration depends. Before 1863\nthe mail bags were carried in the guard's van if the weight was small,\nbut when the mail was heavy a separate compartment in charge of a mail\nguard was used. As there was no intermediate sorting, every post office\nhad to make up a packet or bag for every other post office in front,\nand these various packets were received and delivered at each station\nby the mail guard. In a short time the number of such packets became\nquite unmanageable, and the inconvenience and delay in disposing of\nthem considerable, so that, in order to make it possible to sort the\nmails between North-West India and Calcutta, long detentions had to be\nmade at Allahabad, Cawnpore and Benares, otherwise letters could not\npossibly be sent direct to their destinations. In 1860 a solution of\nthe difficulty was proposed by Mr. Riddell, Director-General of the\nPost Office, namely, the establishment of a Travelling Post Office\nbetween Calcutta and Raneegunge, but the Government of India refused\nto sanction it. In 1863, however, a sorting section was established\non the Great Indian Peninsula Railway between Allahabad and Cawnpore,\nbut no regular service was organized until 1870, when the frontier\nTravelling Post Office was introduced under a Superintendent with\nhis head-quarters at Allahabad. In 1877 the designation of this\nOfficer was altered to Chief Superintendent, T.P.O., and in 1880\nto Inspector-General, Railway Mail Service. The Inspector-General\nworked as an Assistant Director-General in the Direction until 1890,\nbut in that year he was placed in a much more independent position\nas an administrative officer. Owing to the large increase in the\nmileage of the Railway Mail Service it was found impossible for one\nman to exercise an efficient control over it, and in 1905 a Deputy\nInspector-General was appointed; but even with his assistance the work\nwas too heavy, and in 1907 the whole of India was divided into four\ncircles and each of them placed under the jurisdiction of an officer\ndesignated Inspector-General, Railway Mail Service and Sorting, known\nby the wits of the Department as an Inspector-General of sorts. The\ngentlemen with this sesquipedalian title control the railways or\nportions of railways in their own circles. In 1918 their number was\nreduced to three by the abolition of the Southern Circle, and their\ndesignation was altered to Deputy Postmaster-General, Railway Mail\nService.\nThe main conditions under which a railway should carry mails were laid\ndown in Clause 20 of the contract made with the East Indian Railway in\n1849, and was as follows: \"That the said Railway Company will at all\ntimes during the said determinable term convey on the said Railway the\nGovernment mails and post bags and the guards and other servants of\nthe Post Office in charge thereof free of charge.\" A similar condition\nexisted in the contract with the Great Indian Peninsula Railway, but\nthe Companies contended that the conveyance of mails did not include\nthe haulage of sorting carriages in which sorters were employed. The\nPost Office refused to accept this view and nasty things were said on\nboth sides. The Post Office seemed to think that railways had been\ninvented for the conveyance of mails without any regard to dividends,\nwhile the railways regarded the Post Office as a confounded nuisance\nand its officials as unscrupulous thieves. It was finally settled that\ntwo compartments of a second-class carriage should be set apart and\nspecially fitted for the Travelling Post Office on ordinary mail trains\nfree of charge. If a special carriage was required in addition, then\nthe haulage rate of 1\u00bd annas a mile would be charged, and the rate for\nspecial trains was fixed at Rs.3-8 a mile. With respect to the cost and\nmaintenance of postal vehicles it was decided that, if they were paid\nfor by Government in the first instance, the charge for maintenance\nonly should be incurred, but, if the Companies had to bear the cost of\nconstruction, then the charge should include the cost of maintenance,\nthe interest on capital and the cost of restoring the vehicles when\nworn out.\nThe settlement between the Post Office and the Railways did not last\nlong. Despite their acquiescence in the regulations which had been\nlaid down, the Companies refused to abide by them and repeated demands\nwere made for the cost of hauling postal vans. On the Great Indian\nPeninsula Railway everything possible was done to hamper the work of\nthe Department, parcel bags were deliberately left behind at stations,\npostal vans were cut off at way-side places without any warning and\nthere never was any certainty that the whole mail would reach its\ndestination. In 1879 the nuisance became so intolerable that petitions\nwere made by the public for the interference of Government, and after\nsome deliberation a settlement was made with this Railway on the\nfollowing terms:--\n  (1) The Post Office was to pay Rs.6000 a month for the ordinary\n  services performed for it by the Railway, and for this payment a large\n  fitted van with a well and extra vans for weekly foreign mails would\n  be supplied.\n  (2) The price for additional reserved accommodation was raised from 18\n  to 30 pies a mile on each vehicle.\nIn 1882 the Government of India prescribed definite sizes for\npostal vans and called them standard full and standard half vans,\nand arrangements were made with the East Indian and Madras Railways\nto accept 8 annas a mile as the haulage of a standard van. Various\nagreements were made with the other railways, some of which claimed\npayment not for haulage but for the conveyance of bhangy parcels,\nand in some cases lump sum payments were made annually to cover all\nservices. For instance, the Darjeeling Steam Tramway was given a fixed\nsum of Rs.10,260 annually, which represented exactly the cost of the\nold tonga line between Siliguri and Darjeeling.\nThe question of haulage of postal vans and of payment for the carriage\nof mails was finally settled in connection with State Railways. In 1877\nit was ruled by the Governor-General in Council that the conveyance\nof mails over State Railways should be paid for. The question was\nraised with reference to the conveyance of mails on the Hathras-Muttra\n(Provincial) Railway, and it was decided that the actual cost of\ncarrying the mails on all Imperial and Provincial railways should be\nborne by the Post Office. The rules regarding payment on all State\nlines, both broad and metre gauge, were:\n  (1) Eighteen pies per vehicle per mile to be levied in proportion to\n  the space occupied by the Postal Department.\n  (2) For mail bags and parcels sent in luggage vans in charge of\n  railway guards, the amount to be paid was fixed at 1\u00bd pies per maund\n  (80 lbs.) per mile.\n  (3) Accounts to be settled half-yearly and the space as well as weight\n  charged to be adjusted for the six months on the basis of actual space\n  allotted (as above) and actual weight carried on the 1st June and the\n  1st December of each year.\n  (4) All officers and servants of the Postal Department travelling in\n  the mail compartment to be carried without passes. All officials of\n  the Travelling Post Office not travelling in the mail compartment to\n  be carried free on being furnished with passes under the revised free\n  pass rules. All other officers of the Postal Department to pay usual\n  fares.\n  (5) A list to be kept of all free passes issued.\n  (6) These arrangements to have effect from the 1st April, 1877, and\n  to remain in force until the 1st April, 1884. All claims against the\n  Postal Department to be settled in accordance therewith without\n  delay, and adjusted in the accounts of the current official year. No\n  arrear adjustment to be made in respect of any claims other than those\n  arising out of the vehicle charge at 18 pies a mile.\nSome misunderstanding seems to have arisen on the State Railways\nregarding the half-yearly calculations mentioned in paragraph 3, and\nthe question of ferry charges upon Railway steamers was also raised.\nThere was also a certain amount of disagreement about the construction\nand maintenance of Post Office vehicles, and on the 23rd May, 1884,\nGovernment issued a Resolution to the following effect:--\n  (1) That from the 1st April, 1884, and until further orders the\n  following rules shall determine the payment for the haulage of Post\n  Office vehicles, etc., on State Railways, and for the conveyance\n  of mails by State Railway ferry steamers, and that they shall be\n  applied to the East Indian Railway under the terms of Clause 18 of the\n  Company's contract.\n  (2) With reference to the ruling laid down by the Government of\n  India Public Works Department Circular No. 7R, dated the 3rd April,\n  1877, that the actual expenses incurred for the carriage of mails\n  on all Imperial and Provincial Railways shall be paid by the Postal\n  Department, the charges on all State lines, both broad and metre\n  gauge, for the carriage of mails shall be based on a fixed rate of\n  18 pies per vehicle per mile, and shall be levied in proportion to\n  the space actually allotted to the Postal Department on its own\n  requisition.\n  (3) For mail bags and parcels sent in luggage vans in charge of\n  Railway guards the amount to be paid by the Postal Department shall\n  be 1 pie per maund per mile. Under this rule mails may be despatched\n  either\n  (_a_) as a regular daily service according to lists supplied to the\n  Traffic Managers for each half-year; or\n  (_b_) as occasional despatches not provided for in the list, a voucher\n  being given for each despatch; occasional despatches should be\n  restricted to a weight of 5 maunds for each despatch.\n  (4) In addition to the above, a charge equal to 4\u00bd per cent per annum\n  on the original cost shall be paid by the Postal Department for all\n  vans or parts of carriages, built or altered on its own requisition\n  since the 1st January, 1878, for the exclusive use of the Post Office.\n  (5) In the event of the mileage run on the requisition of the Post\n  Office officials by any special postal vans and compartments specially\n  fitted for Post Office work (so as to be unuseable with convenience\n  for ordinary traffic) being in any half-year greater in one direction\n  than in the other, the charge for haulage shall be made, not on actual\n  distance run, but on double the highest run in one direction. For\n  this purpose the Railway Administration will keep a register of the\n  up and down daily mileage of all special postal vans or compartments\n  as aforesaid, but this mileage is not to be used as the basis of a\n  charge against the Postal Department in supersession of the procedure\n  laid down in paragraph 8 below unless there is a considerable\n  difference between the requisitioned up and down mileages.\n  (6) With respect to the conveyance of mails by State Railway ferry\n  steamers where the distance traversed is 10 miles and less, an\n  addition on account of the ferry should be made to the bill for\n  railway service, calculated at the same mileage rate as the railway\n  charge laid down in paragraph 2, but the addition shall not be less\n  than 8 annas for each trip across the river.\n  (7) When the ferry service is over 10 miles and reserved sorting\n  accommodation is not required or provided on board, the charge shall\n  be separately calculated at the rate of 1 pie per maund per mile. If\n  reserved accommodation is required, the rate of charge will be the\n  same as for a whole carriage, viz. 18 pies per mile.\n  (8) Accounts are to be settled half-yearly, and the space as well as\n  weight to be paid for shall be adjusted for the six months on the\n  basis of actual space allotted (paragraph 2) and actual weight carried\n  (paragraphs 3(_a_) and 7) on the 1st June and the 1st December of each\n  year, or on such other date as may be mutually agreed upon. It is to\n  be assumed that the actual service, inclusive of mileage, rendered\n  on these dates is constant throughout the six months. Payments under\n  paragraph 3(_b_) will be made monthly on bills supported by vouchers.\nRegarding interest on capital outlay (paragraph 4) and the mileage of\nspecial postal vans (paragraph 5), the accounts should be rendered for\nthe half-year ending the 31st May and the 30th November. The bills for\nthe services rendered to the Postal Department by State Railways should\nbe made out as above, submitted for acceptance in the months of January\nand July and adjusted in the accounts for February and August in each\nyear, excepting bills for occasional despatches (paragraph 3_b_) which\nwill be adjusted in the month after presentation of the bills.\n  (9) All officers and servants of the Postal Department travelling in\n  the Post Office vans or compartments shall be carried without passes.\n  All officers of the Railway Mail Service and the officers and employ\u00e9s\n  named in Government of India letter No. 2604R of 16th January, 1879,\n  not so travelling will be carried free on being furnished with passes\n  under the State Railways Free Pass Rules. All other officers of the\n  Postal Department will pay the ordinary fares.\n  (10) A list shall be kept of all free passes issued and periodically\n  recorded in the minutes of official meetings.\nAll the larger railways in their renewed contracts with Government have\nagreed to accept these State Railways Rules for the conveyance of mails.\nIn 1886 the Government of India Public Works Department issued the\nfollowing addenda to the above:\n  (1) In addition to the above the Postal Department shall hereafter\n  pay, in the first instance, the original cost of building or fitting\n  up all vans or parts of carriages required for its use as well as the\n  cost, when no longer required by the Post Office, of reconverting them\n  for railway purposes.\n  (2) The Postal Department shall also pay interest at 4\u00bd per cent on\n  the original cost of all vehicles now in use, built or altered on\n  its own requisition since the 1st January, 1878, for the exclusive\n  use of the Post Office until such time as it may desire to repay the\n  aforesaid original cost.\nThese are the rules that still govern the dealings between the Post\nOffice and railways, and at the risk of being wearisome I have quoted\nthem _in extenso_. In 1910 the Railway Conference Association started\nan agitation that the haulage rates paid were insufficient, and that by\ncomparison with those paid for goods they were performing the work of\nthe Post Office at a considerable loss. The result of an inquiry into\ntheir demands for an increase was an offer from the Director-General\nto increase the rate on broad-gauge lines to 24 pies a mile and to\nretain the existing rate of 18 pies on narrow-gauge lines. This offer\nwas accepted provisionally by the Railway Conference Association in\n1913, but the narrow-gauge railways were not very enthusiastic about an\narrangement which put four hundred thousand rupees annually into the\npockets of their colleagues and gave them nothing but the honour and\nglory of having deprived the Post Office of a portion of its earnings.\nUntil the last few years the Railway Mail Service was by far the most\nunpopular branch under the administration of the Post Office. The\npay was bad, the hours of duty were long, the work was trying and\nthe discomfort of the old postal vans baffled description. In the\nhot weather they were like ovens and, being closed in with sorting\ncases, it was difficult to get a through current of air. The lighting,\nprovided by indifferent oil lamps, was injurious to the sight and\ndid not lend itself to accurate sorting. The sorters started life on\nRs.15 a month; they could not ordinarily hope for more than Rs.60 at\nthe end of thirty years' service, and the result was an inefficient\nand discontented body of men with not a small proportion of rogues.\nSince the beginning of the present century the immense importance\nof the Railway Mail Service to the proper working of the Department\nhas been recognized. Salaries have been greatly increased, and the\nbest sorters are picked for appointments as inspectors and Assistant\nSuperintendents. The vans have been improved, and the bogies in which\nthe large sections work are comparatively comfortable. They are fitted\nwith electric light and fans, and work is carried on in them under\nthe most favourable conditions. In the old days a continuous duty of\ntwelve hours in the train was an ordinary occurrence, and it is not a\nmatter for surprise that men, exhausted by hard work and travel in a\ntemperature of 110 degrees, made absurd mistakes. The length of the\nbeats has now been reduced, rest houses have been provided at the\nout-stations and every man gets a sufficient time off duty upon his\nreturn to head-quarters. The new conditions have attracted men of much\nhigher qualifications and position, and it has now been found possible\nto entrust the R.M.S. with almost the whole sorting of the Post Office.\nIn important offices sorting for the outward mail is usually performed\nin a mail office at the railway station, the great advantage being\nthat skilled men are employed and that, by concentrating the work in\none place, economy both in staff and bags is effected. For instance, if\nthe Calcutta G.P.O. and its sixty-three town sub-offices each perform\ntheir own sorting they must each make up separate bags or bundles for a\nlarge number of important towns and R.M.S. sections with which they are\nin postal communication; but if they despatch their mail to a central\nsorting office, that office, as it deals with a far greater number\nof articles, will be in a position to make up direct bags for a very\nmuch larger number of places, like Bombay, Cawnpore, Agra, Lucknow and\nDelhi, thereby saving labour in handling and sorting articles in the\nrunning sections. It is an axiom of the Post Office that no work should\nbe thrown on a running section which can be performed in a stationary\none, the expense being in the ratio of 3 to 1 in staff alone, not to\nmention the cost of haulage.\nConcentration of sorting, although admirable for large towns, is not\nwithout its drawbacks. Where the system exists, postmasters are no\nlonger answerable for the disposal of the outward mail, and they are\nunable to make any direct inquiry into public complaints regarding\nthe loss or missending of articles. As all the sorting is thrown on\none mail office, it is necessary for the various post offices which\nserve it to close their mails sooner than they would if direct bags\nwere prepared for the travelling sections, so that the latest time of\nposting has to be fixed at an earlier hour and the public suffer some\ninconvenience, especially in places remote from the station. A certain\namount of double handling also occurs in towns with a large local\ndelivery, in which case the mail has to be overhauled before despatch\nin order to pick out the local articles. Despite these drawbacks, the\nsystem is undoubtedly a good one whenever the postings of a number of\noffices can be concentrated in one mail office, but in small towns it\nis preferable for the post office to do its own sorting. Supervision is\nbetter, and the sorters can be used for other work. A solution of the\ndifficulty might be found by placing the control of all the important\nthrough services under one Director of Mails with a few assistants\nto help him in supervision, and it has been suggested that probably\nthe best results would be obtained if the Postmasters-General were\nresponsible for both the sorting arrangements and the discipline of the\nstaff upon all the railways within their circles. The present system\nof having different officers in charge of R.M.S. circles has caused\na great deal of correspondence and not unfrequently means divided\ncounsels. It has estranged the heads of postal circles from one of the\nmost important branches of postal work, namely, the conveyance of mails\nby railway. At the same time, the Railway Mail Service work requires\nexpert knowledge, and it is important that each railway should have\nto deal with only one man in the matter of the conveyance of mails\nwithin its system. This could not be done if Postmasters-General were\nin charge, as many railways pass through several postal circles. The\nquestion is full of difficulties, and after careful consideration it\nhas been decided not to interfere with the existing arrangements, but\nto provide a closer co-ordination between the officers in charge of\nRailway Mail Service circles.\nCHAPTER VII\nMONEY ORDERS\nPrevious to 1880 the Money Order system of India was managed by the\nGovernment Treasuries. Bills of Exchange (Hundis) current for twelve\nmonths were issued by one treasury payable upon another, and as there\nwere only 283 offices of issue and payment in the country the money\norder was not a popular means of remittance--in fact, it failed\naltogether to compete with the remittance of currency notes by post.\nIn 1878 Mr. Monteath, Director-General of the Post Office, proposed to\nGovernment to take over the money order business from the treasuries.\nHe argued that, with the small number of treasuries and the trouble\ninvolved in reaching one of these every time a money order had to be\nsent or paid, the existing system could never become popular. The Post\nOffice was able to provide 5500 offices of issue and payment, and the\nnumber of these would be always increasing and becoming more accessible\nto the people. Mr. Monteath's proposal was strongly opposed by the\nComptroller-General, but was accepted by Government and sanctioned by\nthe Secretary of State on the 27th November, 1879.\nOn the 1st January, 1880, the Post Office took over the whole\nmanagement of issue and payment of money orders, and the audit was\nperformed by the Compiler of Post Office Accounts. For the purposes of\nmoney order work post offices were classified under four heads:\n  (1) Offices of issue.\n  (2) Offices of preparation.\n  (3) Offices of delivery.\n  (4) Offices of payment.\nThe office of preparation was always the head office of the district\nin which the addressee resided, and its duty was to prepare the money\norder in the name of the payee upon receipt of the intimation from\nthe office of issue. The procedure was as follows: An application for\na money order was made at the office of issue and, on payment of the\namount with commission, a receipt was given to the remitter and the\napplication was sent to the head office of the district in which the\npayee resided. This office was called the office of preparation, and\nif the payee resided in its delivery area it would also be both the\noffice of delivery and payment. If, however, the payee resided at a\nsub or branch office, the office of preparation made out a money order\nfor delivery at such sub or branch office and for payment at the post\noffice named by the remitter in his application. It was not necessary\nfor the office of delivery to be the office of payment; the remitter\ncould name any office authorized to pay money orders as the office of\npayment. Upon receipt of the money order by the payee an acknowledgment\nsigned by him was sent to the remitter, and the payee had to make his\nown arrangements for cashing his money order at the proper office of\npayment.\nThe commission charged on money orders was accounted for by postage\nstamps affixed to the back of the application by the office of issue,\nand the rates were as follows:\n  Exceeding     Rs.  10, but not exceeding Rs.  25   0     4     0\nRs.150 was the maximum amount of a money order. Redirection was\npermissible, but such redirection did not affect the original office of\npayment, and this could only be altered by the payee signing the order\nand sending it to the office of preparation with an application for the\nissue of a new order payable to himself or anyone named by him at some\nspecified office. A new order was issued, but a second commission was\ncharged for this service. Money orders lapsed at the end of the month\nfollowing that of issue, but were still payable for two months after\nlapsing if a second commission was paid; upon the expiry of that period\nthey were forfeited to Government.\nCertain special conditions with respect to money orders were (1) that\nnot more than four could be issued to the same person by the same\nremitter in one day, except under special permission from the Compiler\nof Post Office Accounts, and (2) that under special orders the issue\nof money orders could be refused by any post office. Foreign money\norders were granted on the United Kingdom, Canada, Germany, Belgium,\nLuxemburg, Heligoland, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Denmark and\nItaly. The maximum amount was \u00a310, and the rates of commission were:\n  Exceeding     \u00a32, but not exceeding \u00a35      1   0   0\nFor Canada the rates of commission were doubled.\nIn 1884 the Telegraphic Money Order system was introduced, with a\ncharge of Rs.2 for the telegram exclusive of the money order commission\nupon the amount to be remitted. The charge was so high that it was\nthought safe to allow a money order up to Rs.600 in value to be sent\nby this means. The anomaly thus existed of having Rs.150 as the limit\nof an ordinary money order and Rs.600 as the limit of a telegraphic\nmoney order. The rule prohibiting more than four money orders daily\nbeing sent by the same remitter to the same payee, besides being quite\nunnecessary, proved no safeguard whatsoever. In actual practice the\nname of the remitter was not entered in the money order receipt, so\nthat the post office of issue had no means of knowing how many money\norders were sent by the same remitter, unless they were all presented\nat the same time. There was really no necessity to fix a low limit to\nthe amount of a money order, as the whole procedure was quite different\nfrom that previously followed by the treasuries. The old treasury rule\nwas that the amount of money orders issued in favour of one person in\na district treasury must not exceed Rs.500 in one day, but then the\nmoney order was like a cheque payable to bearer and the paying treasury\nhad no knowledge of the time at which it would be presented. The Post\nOffice, on the other hand, carried its own money orders and, if the\noffice of payment was short of funds, it could hold back the money\norder until funds were obtained, and do so without the knowledge of the\npayee. These arguments prevailed, and in 1889 the restrictions were\nremoved. The maximum value of an ordinary money order was raised to\nRs.600, and no limit was placed upon the number which could be issued\nin favour of any one person. At the same time the rates were modified\nas follows:--\n  Exceeding Rs.10, but not exceeding\n  Exceeding Rs.25--4 annas for each\n    complete sum of 25 and 4 annas\n    for the remainder, provided that,\n    if the remainder did not exceed\n    Rs.10, the charge would be 2 annas.\nOn the 1st April, 1902, after a great deal of pressure from all classes\nof the community, Government reduced the commission upon a money order\nnot exceeding Rs.5 to 1 anna.\nThe extension of the money order system to the payment of land revenue\nwas first tried in the Benares Division of the North-West Provinces at\nthe suggestion of Rai Bahadur Salig Ram, Postmaster-General, in the\nyear 1884, and proved an immediate success. In eleven months, 13,914\nland revenue money orders were sent, the gross value of which amounted\nto Rs.3,35,904. The system was a great advantage to small proprietors\nwho lived at a distance from the Government Collecting Stations. They\nfound that the use of the ordinary money order for payment of revenue\ndues was not acceptable to the subordinate revenue officials, who\nsuffered the loss of considerable perquisites thereby. Such remittances\nwere generally refused on some pretext or other, either because they\ndid not contain the correct amount due or else because the exact\nparticulars required by the Land Revenue Department were not given\non the money order form. To meet this difficulty a special form of\nmoney order was devised and the co-operation of District Collectors\nwas invited. In 1886 the system was extended to the whole North-West\nProvinces except Kumaon, and a beginning was also made in ten districts\nof Bengal. The action of the Post Office was fully justified by\nresults, and revenue money orders were quickly introduced into the\nPunjab, Central Provinces and Madras. In Madras they proved a failure,\nand were discontinued in 1892 after a three years' trial. The system\nwas again introduced in 1906, but it still does not show any great\nsigns of popularity, the figures for 1917-18 being 10,293 revenue money\norders for Rs.1,29,400.\nRent money orders were first tried in the North-West Provinces in\nMarch, 1886; an experiment was also made in Bengal in October, 1886,\nand the system was extended to the Central Provinces in 1891. Except\nin parts of Bengal and the North-West Provinces, now known as the\nUnited Provinces, the payment of rent by money orders has never been\npopular, and the reason is not far to seek. Rent in India is usually in\narrears and, whenever a tenant pays money to a zemindar (landholder),\nthe latter can credit it against any portion of the arrears that he\nthinks fit. With a rent money order, the case is different, the money\norder itself and the receipt which has to be signed by the zemindar\nindicate exactly the period for which rent is being paid, and to that\nperiod it must be devoted. This is the ordinary ruling of the rent\ncourts and does not at all meet the wishes of zemindars who want to\nhave their tenants in their power. Besides this important factor,\nthere is the rooted objection of all subordinates, whether they be\ngovernment servants or zemindars' agents, to be deprived of the\ntime-honoured offerings which all self-respecting tenants should make\nto the landlord's servants at the time of paying their rents, and the\nappearance of a postman with a sheaf of money orders, however punctual\nthe payments may be, is hardly an adequate substitute for the actual\nattendance of the tenants themselves.\nIn 1886 the plan of paying money orders at the houses of payees was\nadopted and proved very satisfactory. India was indebted to Germany\nfor the idea, which not only conferred a great boon on the public but\ntended to reduce the accumulations of cash at post offices and to\naccelerate the closure of money order accounts.\nIn Appendix \"E\" is given the number and value of inland money orders\nissued in India from 1880-81 to 1917-18, and the steady increase from\nyear to year is a certain sign of the great public need which the\nIndian money order system satisfies, and of the confidence that is\nplaced in it.\nOn the 1st October, 1884, the public was given the opportunity of\nemploying the telegraph for the transmission of inland money orders,\nand during the first six months of the scheme 5788 money orders for\nRs.3,75,000 were issued. The cost of Rs.2 for the telegram and \u00bd per\ncent for money order commission was a decided bar to the popularity\nof the telegraphic money order, which at first was chiefly used in\nBurma and Madras owing to the isolated positions of those provinces.\nIn 1887 the Post Office relinquished its commission on orders for sums\nnot exceeding Rs.10, and the telegraph charge was reduced to R.1. This\nled to an immediate increase of traffic, the number of such orders\nin 1887-88 being 45,417 compared with 18,540 in the previous year,\nmore than half of which were issued from Burma. In 1917-18 the total\nnumber of telegraphic money orders issued was 875,000 and the value\nRs.6,22,00,000 of which about three-fifths came from Burma. With the\nimprovements in railway communication in India which are continually\ntaking place, the pre-eminence of Burma in the matter of telegraphic\nmoney orders is likely to continue owing to her isolation and the\nlargely expanding trade of Rangoon.\nThe ubiquitous swindler was not long in taking advantage of the\ntelegraphic money order to ply a profitable trade. His chief resorts\nare Benares, Rameswaram, Tripati and the other great places of\npilgrimage in India; his victim is generally some unfortunate pilgrim,\nwho is only too anxious to meet an obliging friend willing to act as\na guide and adviser in one of the sacred cities, and the procedure\nadopted is always the same. The swindler acts the part of the kind\nstranger and finds out all the details of the pilgrim's family. He then\ngoes to the local post office, represents himself to be the pilgrim\nand sends a telegram to his victim's relations to say that he has\nlost his money and wants a certain sum at once. So confiding are the\npeople of India that it is very seldom that a request of this kind does\nnot meet with an immediate response, and the swindler, by waiting a\ncouple of days during which he takes good care to ingratiate himself\nwith the post office officials, walks off the richer by a considerable\namount. The earlier reports of the Post Office on the telegraphic\nmoney order system abound in cases of the kind, and very stringent\nmeasures were adopted to put a stop to the practice. Identification\nof payees by well-known residents of the neighbourhood was insisted\nupon, and a payee of a telegraphic money order had to prove his claim\nand give satisfactory evidence of his permanent address. Despite all\nprecautions, the telegraphic money order swindler is still common\nenough and manages to get away with large sums from time to time.\nProbably in no country in the world is the poor man so dependent upon\nthe Post Office for the transmission of small sums of money as in\nIndia. The average value of an inland money order in 1917-18 was Rs.18,\nand it is not infrequent for amounts as small as Rs.5 to be sent by\ntelegraphic money order. The reason undoubtedly is the facility with\nwhich payment is made and the absolute confidence which the Indian\nvillager places in the Post Office. An Indian coolie in Burma, who has\nsaved a few hundred rupees and wants to return to his village, seldom\ncarries the money on his person, and he has a strange mistrust for\nbanks; they are much too grand places for him to enter. He usually goes\nto a post office and sends to himself a money order addressed to the\npost office nearest his own home and then he is satisfied. It may be\nmonths before he turns up to claim the money, as he frequently gets a\njob on the way back or spends some time at a place of pilgrimage, but\nhe knows that his money is safe enough and he is quite content to use\nthe Post Office as a temporary bank to the great inconvenience of the\nAudit Office. It is not too much to say that the money order system\nof India is part and parcel of the life of the people. They use it to\nassist their friends and defy their enemies. They have in that magic\nslip of paper, the money order acknowledgment, what they never had\nbefore, that which no number of lying witnesses can disprove, namely,\nan indisputable proof of payment.\nCHAPTER VIII\nSAVINGS BANK\nThe first Government Savings Banks were opened at the three Presidency\ntowns of Calcutta, Madras and Bombay in 1833, 1834 and 1835,\nrespectively. These Banks were announced as intended for the investment\nof the savings of \"all classes British and Native,\" the return of the\ndeposits with interest being guaranteed by Government. Between 1863\nand 1865 the management of the Savings Banks was transferred to the\nPresidency Banks, and each Presidency framed its own rules. The first\ndeposits were limited to Rs.500, and upon the balance reaching this sum\nit was invested in a Government Loan. The limit was gradually increased\nto Rs.3000 with interest at 4 per cent, but, as it was found that many\npeople deposited the maximum amount at once, a rule was brought in\nprohibiting the deposit of more than Rs.500 a year in any one account.\nIn 1870 District Savings Banks were instituted in all parts of India\nexcept Calcutta and the Presidencies of Madras and Bombay. The limits\nfor deposits were fixed at Rs.500 a year with a total of Rs.3000 and\ninterest at 3\u00be per cent was fixed. In December, 1879, revised rules\nwere drawn up for District and other Government Savings Banks, the\nmost important change being that the limit of a deposit account was\nraised to Rs.5000 and interest was fixed at 4-1/6 per cent. The result\nof these rules was to attract to the Savings Banks a large number\nof deposits which should have gone to other banks, and in 1880 the\nmonthly limit of Rs.500 with a maximum of Rs.3000 was again imposed and\ninterest was reduced to 3\u00be per cent.\nThe proposal to establish Post Office Savings Banks on the lines of\nthose which existed in England met with great opposition, especially\nfrom the Comptroller-General. The same arguments were brought forward\nwhich the opponents of the Post Office Savings Bank Bill in England\nused when Mr. Gladstone managed to get this wise and beneficial measure\nthrough both Houses in 1861. In 1882 the first Post Office Savings\nBanks were opened in every part of India except Calcutta, Bombay and\nthe head-quarter stations of Madras. In Madras, savings banks could\nbe opened by the Director-General, provided they were not within five\nmiles of a head-quarter station. The immediate consequence of this\nmeasure was an increase in the number of savings banks in the country\nfrom 197 to 4243. The minimum deposit was fixed at 4 annas, and\ninterest was allowed at 3 pies a month on every complete sum of Rs.5;\nit was also arranged to purchase Government Securities for depositors.\nThe end of the first year's working showed 39,121 depositors with a\nbalance of Rs.27,96,796.\nOn the 1st April, 1886, District Savings Banks were abolished and the\nbalances transferred to the Post Office, but the Local Government\nSavings Banks at Calcutta, Bombay and Madras remained in the hands of\nthe Presidency Banks until the 1st October, 1896.\nIn 1904, when the balance at the credit of depositors exceeded 130\nmillions of rupees, the Government of India began to be rather\nnervous of being liable to pay up such a large sum at call without\nany warning. A sudden rush of depositors to withdraw their savings\nwould tax the resources of Government to the utmost and, in order to\nafford some protection, a rule was made that an extra quarter per cent\nwould be paid upon deposits, which were not liable to withdrawal until\nsix months' notice had been given. Needless to say, the bait did not\nprove attractive. The additional interest meant practically nothing to\nsmall depositors and was poor compensation to large depositors for the\ninconvenience of having their money tied up for six months. What the\nmeasure did involve was a great increase of work and account-keeping\nfor little or no purpose, as the number of accounts subject to six\nmonths' notice of withdrawal never exceeded 3 per cent of the total.\nThese accounts were abolished in 1908 and, although the Government of\nIndia does not keep any special reserve against the balance in the Post\nOffice Savings Bank, the depositor has the satisfaction of knowing that\nhis deposit is guaranteed by the whole revenue of the country.\nThe history of the Post Office Savings Bank in India is rather\nmonotonous. With a single exception it has been one of continual\nprosperity and expansion from 1882, the year of its commencement, to\n1914. The balance on the 31st March, 1914, was over 231 million rupees,\nand, as the money belongs very largely to small depositors, who can\ndemand immediate payment, the bank is placed in a very responsible\nposition towards the public. It will, therefore, be of advantage to\nexamine the political and economic crises which have occurred in this\nperiod, and how they have affected the small depositors' confidence in\nthe Government of India.\nIn Appendix D is given the number of accounts and the balance year by\nyear from 1882 to 1914, which shows that in no year have the accounts\nfailed to increase in number and only in 1897-8 has the balance at the\ncredit of depositors declined. Yet during this period three important\ncrises occurred. The first was in 1885, and was known as the Russian\nScare, the second in 1896-7 when India was visited by the worst famine\non record, and the third in 1907-8 when a great wave of sedition and\ndiscontent spread over the country.\nTwo of these crises were political and one economic, and it is a\nremarkable fact that the effect of the former two was felt almost\nentirely, and of the latter very largely, in the Bombay Presidency.\nThis circumstance goes to prove that the inhabitants of Bombay are more\nin touch with the affairs of the world than those in other parts of\nIndia.\nThe Russian Scare of 1885, culminating in the \"Penjdeh Affair,\" led\nto very heavy withdrawals from almost all the more important savings\nbanks on the Bombay side. No less than Rs.2,93,000 were paid out to\ndepositors in the Presidency Savings Bank from the 1st to the 22nd\nApril. The withdrawals in March from Ahmedabad, Kaira, Broach and\nSurat totalled Rs.2,80,000 against Rs.1,10,000 in March, 1884, and\nthe excess of withdrawals over deposits for the whole Presidency in\nJanuary, February and March amounted to Rs.9,50,000. The rest of India\nwas not affected by the scare, in fact the total number of Savings Bank\naccounts increased by 38,000 and the balances by Rs.59,00,000 despite\nthe heavy deficit in Bombay.\nThe crisis of 1897 was purely economic and was due to a widespread\nfamine and abnormally high prices. Its effect was felt in the Savings\nBank for three years, the balance falling from Rs.9,63,00,000 in 1896-7\nto Rs.9,28,00,000 in 1897-8, and not reaching Rs.9,64,00,000 until\n1899-00. The Bombay Postal Circle accounted for Rs.30,50,000 out of the\nRs.35,00,000 deficit in India, the other deficits being in Madras, the\nNorth-West Provinces and Oudh, and Bengal.\nIn 1907-8, as I have already mentioned, the country was full of\nunrest. Leaflets calling on the men to mutiny were being distributed\nbroadcast among the Indian regiments. Several Sikh regiments were\nsupposed to be seriously disaffected. The feeling in Bengal against\nthe British Government was being carefully nurtured, but the real\nhead-quarters of the anti-British movement was Poona. In 1908-9 the\nbalance of the Savings Bank increased by Rs.5,00,000 only, which meant\na serious set-back considering the way in which the Post Office was\ndeveloping, but the figures for the Bombay Postal Circle are peculiarly\ninstructive. The number of accounts actually increased from 264,558\nto 271,604, whereas the balance at the credit of depositors declined\nfrom Rs.4,41,00,000 to Rs.4,30,00,000, the actual decrease being\nRs.11,46,388. Now in this year Bengal showed an increase of nearly\nRs.2,00,000, and the decline in the proportional rate of increase in\nIndia was found to be due to the heavy withdrawals of some depositors\nin Bombay. There is reason to believe that a number of wealthy persons\nbelonging to the commercial class use the Post Office Savings Bank in\nBombay as a convenient place to deposit money. This class of depositors\nnumbered 12,198 in 1907-08 and 12,503 in 1908-09, which is larger\nthan in Bengal. Such people do not deposit their money from motives of\nsaving or thrift, but merely take advantage of the convenience which\nthe Post Office offers as a safe place to keep, at interest, money\nwhich can be immediately realized. The rule which permits a depositor\nto have accounts in his own behalf or on behalf of any minor relatives\nor any minor of whom he happens to be the guardian has opened a way to\ngreat abuse of the system. There is nothing to prevent a man having\nany number of imaginary relatives and opening accounts in all their\nnames. He can deposit the maximum in each account, and naturally in\ntimes of crisis or when money is tight the Savings Bank has to face\nthe immediate withdrawal of all these amounts. As one example of what\nis done, a case came to light some years ago in which a depositor\nat Dharwar was authorized to operate on eighty-three accounts with\na balance of nearly Rs.30,000. He was a broker by profession and it\nwas quite possible for him to control a balance of Rs.2,00,000 in the\nPost Office, if he wished to do so. Further inquiries made at the time\nelicited that one depositor at Bijapur controlled forty-two accounts,\nanother at Surat thirty, and another at Karwar nineteen. Such persons\nare really speculators and are a danger to the Savings Bank, and it\nwould be interesting to know what proportion they hold of the total\ndeposits in the Bombay Circle. These deposits represent a very high\nproportion of the total in India, so that the action of any strong body\nof depositors in Bombay has a very serious effect on the balance of the\nSavings Bank.\nThe examination of transactions for the thirty years previous to\n1914 has this satisfactory result that, with the exception of the\nundesirable element in Bombay, a political crisis, at any rate, seems\nto have no marked influence upon the great mass of depositors in India.\nThe number of depositors on the 31st March, 1914, was 1,638,725 with\na balance of Rs.23,16,75,000. The outbreak of the war with Germany,\nhowever, had a disastrous effect on the Savings Bank balances. When\nthe announcement was made that the German Government had temporarily\nconfiscated the Savings Bank deposits in that country, a regular panic\nensued and within a few months about 100 millions of rupees were\nwithdrawn. The action of the Government of India, however, in meeting\nall claims in full did a great deal to allay public fears, and a\ncertain amount of money came back later in the year, but the balance on\nthe 31st March, 1915, had declined from about 231 to 149 millions of\nrupees. Since then there has been a gradual recovery, and the balance\non the 31st March, 1918, was nearly 166 million rupees. The recovery\nwould have been much quicker but for the large sale of five-year cash\ncertificates in 1917-18 on behalf of the War Loan. The price received\nwas about 100 million rupees, of which a considerable portion was\nwithdrawn from Savings Bank deposits. At the same time the small\ndepositors were busy purchasing cash certificates with money that would\notherwise have been put into the Post Office Savings Bank. Now that the\nWar is over and the rush for cash certificates has ceased, there is\nevery prospect that the Post Office Savings Bank will shortly regain\nits former popularity.\nCHAPTER IX\nTHE PEOPLE AND THE POST OFFICE\nThere is no branch of the Public Service that comes into such close\ncontact with the people as the Post Office. Its officials are consulted\nin all kinds of family troubles, they have to deal with curious\nsuperstitions and beliefs and to overcome the prejudices ingrained by\nan hereditary system of caste. The official measure of the successful\nworking of the Department is gauged by the annual statistics, but the\nreal measure of its success may be learned from the attitude of the\npeople themselves. The Indian villager dreads the presence of the\nGovernment officer in his neighbourhood, but he makes an exception\nin the case of Post Office employ\u00e9s. The postman is always a welcome\nvisitor and, if he fails to attend regularly, a complaint is invariably\nmade.\nIt is in the delivery of correspondence throughout the smaller towns\nand rural tracts in India that the Post Office has to face some of\nits most difficult problems. Towns in India, with the exception of\nthe Presidency and more important towns, are mere collections of\nhouses, divided into \"mohullas\" or quarters. Few streets have names,\nand consequently addresses tend to be vague descriptions which tax\nall the ingenuity of the delivery agents. Among the poorer classes\ndefinite local habitations with names are almost unknown, and the best\nthat a correspondent can do is to give the name of the addressee, his\ntrade and the bazaar that he frequents. Such cases are comparatively\nsimple, as the postman is usually a man with an intimate knowledge of\nthe quarter, and the recipients of letters have no objection to be\ndescribed by their physical defects, such as \"he with the lame leg\" or\n\"the squint eye\" or \"the crooked back\"! Real difficulties, however,\narise when articles are addressed to members of the peripatetic\npopulation consisting of pilgrims, boatmen and other wanderers. There\nis an enormous boat traffic on the large rivers of Bengal and Burma.\nThe boat is the home of a family, it wanders over thousands of miles\nof channels carrying commodities, and letters to the owner rarely give\nanything except a general direction to deliver the article on board\na boat carrying wood or rice from some river port to another. The\npilgrims who travel from shrine to shrine in the country are also a\npuzzle to the Post Office, and in sacred places, like Benares, special\npostmen have to be trained to deliver their letters.\nThe forms of address are seldom very helpful for a speedy distribution\nand delivery of the mail. The following are characteristic of what a\nsorter has to deal with any day:--\n  \"With good blessings to the fortunate Babu Kailas Chandra Dey, may the\n  dear boy live long. The letter to go to the Baidiabati post office.\n  The above-named person will get it on reaching Baidiabati, Khoragachi,\n  Goynapara. (Bearing.)\"\n  \"To the one inseparable from my heart, the fortunate Babu Sibnath\n  Ghose, having the same heart as mine. From post office Hasnabad to\n  the village of Ramnathpur, to reach the house of the fortunate Babu\n  Prayanath Ghose, District Twenty-four Parganas. Don't deliver this\n  letter to any person other than the addressee, Mr. Postman. This my\n  request to you.\"\n  \"If the Almighty pleases, let this envelope, having arrived at the\n  city of Calcutta in the neighbourhood of Kulutola, at the counting\n  house of Sirajudin and Alladad Khan, merchants, be offered to and\n  read by the happy light of my eyes of virtuous manners and beloved\n  of the heart, Mian Sheikh Inayat Ali, may his life be long! Written\n  on the tenth of the blessed Ramzan in the year 1266 of the Hejira of\n  our Prophet, and despatched as bearing. Having without loss of time\n  paid the postage and received the letter, you will read it. Having\n  abstained from food and drink, considering it forbidden to you, you\n  will convey yourself to Jaunpur and you will know this to be a strict\n  injunction.\"\nThe three addresses given below have been taken from letters posted\nby Hindus to Hindus, and it will be noticed that they merely bear the\nnames of persons with no indication of the place of delivery.\n  \"To the sacred feet of the most worshipful, the most respected\n  brother, Guru Pershad Singh!\"\n  \"To his Highness the respected brother, beneficent lord of us the\n  poor, my benefactor, Munshi Manik Chand.\"\n  \"To the blessed feet of the most worshipful younger uncle, Kashi Nath\n  Banerji.\"\nIt is not uncommon for Europeans to receive letters with honorific\ntitles added to their names, in fact it would be considered impolite\nto address an English gentleman in the vernacular by his mere name.\nSuch a thing is never done. Whatever address is given by the writer,\nthe Indian postman has his special methods of noting it. He seldom\nknows English, and when names are read out to him by the delivery clerk\nhe scrawls his own description on the back in a script that can only\nbe read by himself. A well-known judge of the Calcutta High Court,\nSir John Stevens, was much amused to find that the words \"Old Stevens\nSahib\" were constantly written in the vernacular on the back of his\nletters, this being done to distinguish him from his younger colleague,\nMr. Justice Stephens.\nA story recently received from the Persian Gulf explains how it is\nthat letters sometimes fail to reach their destinations despite the\ngreatest care on the part of the Post Office. The incident is worthy\nof the _Arabian Nights_, and I will quote the account given by the\nsub-postmaster of Linga.\n\"On the 8th of December in the year 1912 a well-known merchant of\nLinga, Aga Abbasalli by name, informed me that his agents at Bombay,\nKarachi and other places in India had informed him by telegraph that\nfor the last two weeks they had received no mails from him. He asked\nfor an explanation from me for this, indirectly holding me responsible\nand even threatening to report me to you, for he maintained that the\nletters he sent to the Post for many years past had, at least, always\nreached their destination, if late, and that he could not now for\nhis life imagine as to how it was that the several letters which he\nhimself sent to the Post, by bearer, for the last two weeks, were lost\nduring transmission. As Abbasalli was known to me, I sent word to him\nthrough somebody to the effect that, in the first place, he would do\nwell to examine the bearer with whom he sent his letters to the Post.\nThe bearer was thereupon called by him and confronted with the question\nof his mails; but before quoting the silly dolt's interesting reply it\nwould be better to note the following few points:--\nThere are two identical terms in Persian, the \"Poos\" and the \"Poost,\"\nwhich have three distinct meanings, the word \"Poos\" meaning a dock,\nor, in such a place as the port of Linga, only a shelter for ships'\nanchorage, whilst the word \"Poost\" meaning (1) hides and skins,\nor leather and (2) the Post Office. As far as pronunciations are\nconcerned it has been a very indiscriminate colloquialism at Linga to\npronounce both the above said words alike as \"Poos,\" without any regard\nto the final \"t\" of the word \"Poost\"; and practically, therefore,\nthe word \"Poos\" has three separate meanings as quoted above. The\n\"Poost-e-Buzurg\" or the \"Poos-e-Buzurg,\" literally equal to the big\nPost Office, is used by the mass of people for the British Post Office\nat Linga, as distinct from the Persian Post Office, which is known as\nthe \"Poost-e-Ajam.\" But to many again the \"Poos-e-Buzurg\" is known as\nthe big dock, also styled the \"Poos-e-Aga Bedar\" (Aga Bedar's dock),\nin contradistinction from another which is smaller, and is only known\nas the \"Poos-e-Bazar,\" that is, the Bazar dock. Moreover, both the\nbig dock and the British Post Office are situated somewhere near Aga\nBedar's Coffee shop, the latter being, however, a little farther than\nthe dock.\nHaving noted these points I now beg to revert to the question put to\nhis bearer by Abbasalli and the former's reply thereto. \"What did\nyou do with my mails, that I gave you, for the last two weeks, to\nbe conveyed to the 'Poost'?\" asks Abbasalli in his vernacular, and\nthe bearer replies, \"The first week when you told me to carry your\nletters to the 'Poost' I _went_ to the shoemaker's and was putting them\n_exactly_ amongst the 'Poost' (meaning leather and leather-ware), as\nordered by you, but, he won't let me do so, and said I should carry the\nletters to the 'Poos-e-Buzurg' near Aga Bedar's Coffee shop.\" \"Ah! you\nblockhead, you,\" explained the exasperated merchant, \"but, what did\nyou do with my letters after all when he told you to carry them to the\n'Poos-e-Buzurg'?\" \"Why, rest easy on the point,\" says the bearer, \"I\ncarried them exactly to the 'Poos-e-Buzurg' (meaning the big dock) and\nthrew the letters in. The first time when there was plenty of water in\nthe dock (on account of tide) I had simply to throw your letters in,\nand I am sure they must have reached their destination quite all right;\nbut the next week, when there was but little water in the dock, I had\nto dig a pit in the sand to put the mails in, and perhaps they may not\nhave reached their destination.\"\nPoor Abbasalli was quite perplexed and awfully sorry to know that all\nthe valuable letters written by him for the two weeks, some containing\ncheques even, as I am given to understand, were thus entirely washed\naway by the merciless waves; but, no less embarrassed am I, on hearing\nof the tomfoolery, to think of what blame it may sometimes accidentally\nand unnecessarily entail on a Postmaster, and I therefore venture to\nput this real story before you, with the fullest hope that, in future,\ncomplaints of a like nature may kindly be considered only on their due\nmerits.\nI may be allowed to add that the story was related by me before\nH.B.M.'s Vice-Consul and the small European Community at the Linga\nClub, and they all, while sympathizing with me in my perplexity,\nenjoyed a hearty laugh over the recital.\nOn the 31st March, 1918, there were over 19,410 post offices and 49,749\nletter boxes in India to serve a population of 319 million people in an\narea of 1,622,000 square miles. This gives a post office to about every\n16,000 persons, or to each 83 square miles of country, which seems a\nvery poor service by comparison with Western countries, but, when one\nconsiders that the literate population of India is only 18,500,000,\nthe service is good and the prospect of future development with the\nincrease of education is enormous.\nIt must not be supposed, however, that the Post Office confines its\nenergies to the literate population. It is largely used by people who\ncan neither read nor write, and this is made possible by the existence\nof professional letter-writers, who are to be found in every town\nand village in the country. For a pice (farthing) they will write an\naddress, and for two pice they will write a short letter or a postcard\nor fill up a money order, though slightly higher fees are charged if\nthe letter is very long.\nIn rural tracts where it is not worth while to maintain a post office,\nthe people are served by a letter-box or by a village postman who\nmakes periodical visits and acts as a travelling post office. It is\na wonderful achievement of the Department that there is scarcely a\nvillage in India which does not lie within the beat of a village\npostman. The competition between villages to obtain post offices is\noften very keen, and a Postmaster-General has many a troublesome\ndecision to make, as to which of two or three neighbouring villages\nis to have the honour conferred upon it. While the matter is yet\nundecided the competitors vie with each other in pouring correspondence\ninto the nearest post office in order to show the postal importance\nof their respective villages, an importance which is apt to decline\nsadly when once the post office has been opened. On one occasion, when\nPostmaster-General, I received application from two villages A and B\nfor the opening of post offices. There happened to be an office in a\nvillage C close by, but the applications stated that this village was\nseparated from them by a river, difficult to cross at most seasons\nand quite impossible during the rains. The inspector who visited the\nlocality reported that the river could be crossed dry-shod at most\nseasons and with little difficulty during the monsoon, but that A was\na much more important place than C and that the post office ought to\nbe transferred there. A fresh complication was then started, and the\nindignation of the villagers in C knew no bounds. They threatened to\ncarry the matter up to the Viceroy, and for the time they began to post\nenough letters to justify the existence of an office in the village.\nThe dispute was finally settled by establishing an office at A in\naddition to the one at C, on condition that one or the other would be\nclosed if the postal work done did not justify its continuance.\nOne of the most important duties of a Superintendent is to watch\ncarefully the work of village postmen. Statistics are kept regularly\nof the articles delivered and collected by them, and these statistics\ngive a very true indication of the places where new post offices\nare required in rural tracts. In this way the Department keeps in\ntouch with the whole country, and a special grant has been allowed\nby Government for opening experimental offices in places which show\nsigns of needing permanent ones. An experimental office is opened\nfor a period of six months and, if it leads to a development of\ncorrespondence and pays its way, it is made permanent at the end\nof that time, but unless it is a complete failure the experiment\nis extended up to two years in order to give the people of the\nneighbourhood every chance of retaining the office. This policy has\nbeen most successful and has taught the village people that they are\nlargely responsible for the maintenance of their own post offices. The\npostmaster is invariably a local man, either the village schoolmaster\nor a shopkeeper, who gets a small salary, which, combined with the\ndignity of His Majesty's mails, gives him a direct interest in making\nthe office a profitable concern.\nThe annual statistics of the Post Office serve as a barometer of the\nprosperity of India. The Department has entered into the lives of the\npeople with its lines of communication, its savings bank, money orders,\npayment of pensions and sale of quinine. It has only one aim and that\naim is recognized by all, namely, to do the greatest good for the\ngreatest number.\nCHAPTER X\nTHE INDIAN POSTMAN\nThe conditions under which postal articles in England and India are\ndelivered differ so vastly that a knowledge of Indian life is necessary\nin order to understand the difficulties that lie in the way of good\ndelivery work in this country. The smart official walking four miles\nan hour and shooting the contents of his satchel into every house on\nhis beat with a rat-a-tat is unknown. House doors in India have no\nknockers and no letter-boxes, and among the better class inhabitants,\nboth European and Indian, it is customary to send messengers to the\npost office to fetch the unregistered mail, so that to this extent the\npostman's work is reduced. The balance of the articles received by him\noften forms a strange medley in many languages, of which perhaps he is\nable to read one with difficulty. In a large town like Calcutta letters\nare received addressed in as many as a dozen different languages, and\nspecial clerks versed in the various tongues have to be employed.\nLuckily people of the same race are accustomed to congregate in the\nsame quarters of the town, and the postmen are able to get some of the\nlocal residents to assist them in deciphering many a doubtful address.\nIn Bombay certain private delivery agencies exist, which are recognized\nby the Department and which work very satisfactorily. On the whole\nthe distribution of letters to the public is performed in a leisurely\nfashion which is quite in accordance with the national character. One\nmay often see a postman, with the assistance of a dozen of the literate\ninhabitants of the quarter, spelling out from a dirty piece of folded\npaper an address, which turns out to be one Gunga Din living near the\ntemple of Hanuman in the courtyard of some ancient who has died years\nago, but whose name is still perpetuated in the soil where his house\nonce stood. Gunga Din may be dead or vanished, the quarter knows him\nno more, but his sister's grandnephew arrives to take the letter,\nand after some haggling agrees to pay the 1 anna due on it, for such\nletters are invariably sent bearing. This little episode being finished\nthe postman proceeds on his beat to find another enigmatical addressee,\nand is it any wonder that, although his salary is often a low one, the\nIndian postman is one of the most expensive delivery agents in the\nworld? He seldom delivers more than three hundred articles a day, and\nin the Indian business quarters of the town he gets rid of the majority\nof these at the post office door, since the merchants and others who\nexpect letters always waylay the postman just as he is proceeding on\nhis beat, knowing well that it may be many hours before he will find it\nconvenient to visit them at their houses.\nIn the matter of slow delivery, however, the public are more\nfrequently to blame for delays than the postman, especially in the\ncase of articles which have to be signed for. Parcels, money orders\nor registered letters are taken at the door by a servant and, if the\nsahib is at his bath or busy, there is a long and tedious wait before\nthe signed receipts are brought back. It is extraordinary how callous\npeople are in this respect towards the interests of the Post Office\nand their own neighbours, while they are always ready to complain if\nthe smallest delay or mistake occurs to any articles for themselves.\nIt can be easily understood that where such conditions prevail, and\nthat is all over India, fast delivery is impossible, and the very best\nregulations for getting the men quickly to their beats are useless when\nthey are detained unnecessarily at every house.\n[Illustration: COMBINED PASSENGER AND MAIL MOTOR VAN. KANGRA VALLEY\nSERVICE]\nIn India most money orders are paid at the door by postmen, and in\ntowns, where there are large payments to be made, special sets of\npostmen are employed for the purpose. The rules regarding the payment\nof money orders are very strict and, when the payees are not well-known\npersons, identification by a respectable resident is insisted upon.\nIn large pilgrim resorts, like Benares, where the pilgrims are\ncontinually getting remittances and are necessarily unknown, there is\na special class of professional identifiers, consisting chiefly of the\ninnkeepers. These men for a small fee are always ready to swear to\nthe identity of any pilgrim for whom a money order has arrived, and,\nstrange to say, they are often ready to pay up if it is found that\ntheir identification was incorrect and that the money was paid to the\nwrong person, a not unfrequent occurrence.\nThe postman, however, has to bear the brunt in case of the\nidentification not being complete, and his responsibility in the matter\nis great. The convenience to the public of having their money brought\nto their doors is considerable, but it is a source of continual anxiety\nand expense to the Post Office. Large sums of money are entrusted\ndaily to men on small pay. When the limit, which a postman is allowed\nto take, is exceeded, an overseer has to accompany him on his beat.\nAccounts have to be kept with each of the money order postmen and must\nbe settled before the day's cash can be closed. Complaints of short\npayment are frequent and necessitate detailed inquiries with usually\nvery unsatisfactory results, while the opportunities for blackmail are\nunlimited. Despite these drawbacks, it would now be scarcely possible\nto revert to a system by which everyone who received a money order\nwas obliged to take payment of it at a post office, although greater\nsecurity for both the public and the Department would be gained\nthereby. In certain parts of the country rural delivery is effected\nwith extraordinary difficulty. On the North-West frontier the village\npostman goes in danger of his life from trans-border tribesmen. In the\nforest tracts of Central India the attacks of man-eating tigers are not\nmerely travellers' tales, but grim realities. In the riverine districts\nof Eastern Bengal the postman has to go from village to village by\nboat, and a storm on one of these immense rivers is a bad thing to\nface in a frail canoe. Nor is the boat journey the worst trouble; a\nlong tramp from the bank through swampy rice and jute fields is often\nthe only way to a village which has to be visited twice a week. It is\nno wonder that the village postman sometimes takes the easiest way\nof delivering his letters by going to the most important place in\nhis beat on market day; for, if he cannot find the actual addressees\nthere, he is pretty sure to find some people from the vicinity who are\nwilling to take charge of their neighbours' correspondence, but often\nnot too careful about delivering it. Hence the origin of much trouble,\ncomplaints and hard swearing. Half a dozen witnesses are always\nforthcoming to affirm that the postman visited the village _in propria\npersona_ on that particular day, and to prove it the visit book with\nthe signature of one of the perjurers is produced. How can the mere\nnegative evidence of another half-dozen stand against these convincing\nproofs?\nOn the Malabar side of the peninsula, where a very strict form of\nBrahminism prevails, persons of low caste are forbidden to enter the\nquarters of a town occupied by Brahmins, and care has to be taken to\nplace these quarters in the beats of high caste postmen. In Palghat\nthere was almost a riot on one occasion when a postman of inferior\ncaste attempted to enter a Brahmin street in the performance of his\nduties, and the Postmaster-General was promptly called to order by the\nindignant inhabitants. It was nearly a question whether he should be\nfined and compelled to feed a thousand beggars in accordance with the\ncustom of the caste, but, on proving that he was an indigent member\nof the Indian Civil Service with a wife and family in England, he was\npardoned on admitting his error and promising that no repetition of the\noffence should occur.\nAs a rule the Indian postman is reasonably honest and, if not\ninterfered with at an unseasonable moment by an over-zealous\ninspector, his accounts will come out square in the course of time.\nThe maintenance of a private debit account with the Department at\nthe expense of the payees of money orders is not unknown. The usual\npractice is to withhold the payment of a certain number of money orders\nfor a few days and to use the money for some profitable speculation,\nsuch as cotton gambling or betting on the opium sales. Recently one\nof the most respected postmen in the Big Bazaar of Calcutta was found\nto have overreached himself in carrying out this policy. He was on a\nvery heavy money order beat, and used regularly to keep back a number\nof money orders and forge the payees' receipts so as to satisfy the\noffice that payment had been made. He kept a private account of these,\nand when he decided to pay any one whose money had been withheld he\nfilled up a blank form, of which plenty are always available, and took\nthe payee's signature on this. The practice continued for some time\nand, as everyone got paid in turn and the postman was a most plausible\nfellow, no complaints were made. At last his speculations went wrong,\nhe got into very deep water and an unpleasant person complained to the\npostmaster that he had not received a money order which he knew to have\nbeen sent weeks before. This led to an inquiry, and the postman, being\ncaught unawares, was unable to account for about 17,000 rupees' worth\nof money orders due to various people in the city.\nOne of the great problems of the Post Office in large towns is to\narrange deliveries and beats of postmen so that people will get their\nletters in the shortest time after the arrival of the mail trains.\nIt used to be thought that the best way to effect this purpose was\nto have several delivery centres in order that postmen might be near\ntheir beats and the waste of time in walking to the beats be avoided.\nTo enable this to be done, the Railway Mail Service was expected to\nsort all postal articles into separate bags for the different delivery\noffices. The principle is excellent in theory, but in practice it has\nnot worked well and has led to indiscriminate missending to wrong\ndelivery offices. For instance, Madras at one time had twenty-six\ndelivery offices and, if people could have been induced to address\ntheir correspondence to one of these offices with the word (Madras)\nin brackets underneath, there might have been some hope of it being\nproperly sorted by the Railway Mail Service, but probably 80 per cent\nof articles were simply addressed to Madras with or without the name\nof a street, so that the sorters were set an impossible task and the\nGeneral Post Office had to maintain a special staff for sorting and\nconveying such letters to the offices from which they would eventually\nbe delivered. The present policy is to have as few delivery offices\nas possible, and to have postmen conveyed to more distant beats. This\nhas proved far more satisfactory; it relieves the work in the R.M.S.,\nenables the postmen to be kept under better control and reduces the\npossibility of articles going astray.\nWhile working at the best arrangements for delivery at Calcutta Mr.\nOwens, late Presidency Postmaster, devised the system of what is known\nfor want of a better name as \"continuous delivery.\" Every beat is\nprovided with a locked box placed in a shop or some suitable place\nin the beat, and the letters for delivery are placed in this box by\nmessengers sent direct from the post office. The postman goes straight\nto his beat and remains on duty there for six hours, he finds his\nletters in the box and is supposed to make the complete round of his\nbeat every hour, delivering articles and clearing the pillar boxes _en\nroute_. When he returns to the locked box he finds a fresh consignment\nof letters for delivery, and deposits those that he has collected for\ndespatch, to be taken away by the messenger on his next visit. The\nsystem is a good one and has worked well. It saves labour and, if the\nbeats are properly supervised and the postmen work conscientiously, a\ngreat quickening up of delivery is effected. If, however, supervision\nis at all lax, human nature asserts itself, postmen are inclined to\nloiter and they allow letters to accumulate so that one round can be\nmade to do the work of two. Owing to the difficulty of supervision, the\ncontinuous delivery system has not many ardent supporters in the Post\nOffice at the present time.\nThe postman is, in fine, one of the most important factors in the\nDepartment, and upon his energy and honesty much depends. It therefore\nbehoves the authorities to see that a good class of man is recruited.\nIn addition to being able to read and write the language of that part\nof the country in which he serves, he should know enough English to\nbe able to read addresses easily, but in order to obtain this class\nof man careful recruitment is necessary and a good initial salary\nwith reasonable prospects of promotion must be given. Much has been\ndone in recent years to improve the status of postmen and all branch\npostmasterships, which are not held by extra-departmental agents,\nare now open to them. This is a great step forward. The Department\nused to be very parsimonious in the matter of uniforms, and in many\nimportant offices postmen had to pay for them themselves. Nor was\nthere any uniformity even in each circle about the uniforms supplied\nby Government. In one town red coats and blue turbans were seen,\nin another blue coats and red turbans, in another khaki coats and\nnondescript turbans, while the men who supplied themselves with uniform\npresented at times the most extraordinary appearance. The pattern\nof postmen's uniform has now been standardized for each circle, and\nuniforms are supplied free of cost in all head offices and large\nsub-offices. Warm clothing is also given in all places with a cold\nclimate. There is no doubt about the value of a uniform to a postman.\nIt adds a certain amount of dignity to him and, like the soldier,\nhe is the better man for having a distinctive badge of office. The\npay has recently been greatly improved and much has been done to\nameliorate conditions under which they serve. There are over 27,000\npostmen in India; the interests of these men are identical with those\nof the Department, and their welfare should be the aim of every postal\nofficer.\nCHAPTER XI\nPOST OFFICE BUILDINGS\n\"I don't think\" was the terse though somewhat vulgar reply of a\nwell-known district officer on the western side of India when asked if\nhe would like to have a post office erected in a conspicuous place at\nthe head-quarters of his district. He was willing to give the site in\nquestion for a clock tower, a public library or even a statue of one\nof his predecessors, but a post office, \"No, thank you.\" The reason\nfor this attitude may be easily understood by those who have seen the\nordinary Indian post office of a few years ago. It used generally to\nbe a rented building quite unsuited for the purpose and made perfectly\nhideous by small additions and projections constructed from time to\ntime in order to meet demands for increased space. The windows and\ndoors were used not for light and air nor even for giving access to\nthe interior, but for business purposes. They were blocked up with the\nexception of a small hole just the size of a pane of glass, through\nwhich the members of the public had to try to get a clerk to attend\nto their requirements. When a Government building existed it was very\nlittle better, except in the matter of repairs. The interior of the\nordinary post office was a dreadful sight a few years ago, a mass of\nuntidy tables, a large number of cupboards, known in India as almirahs,\nill-designed sorting cases and dirt, this last article being the most\nprevalent everywhere. Letters were sorted on the floor for convenience,\nand the delivery table with its ragged occupants, who did duty for\npostmen, was a sight for the gods.\nThe position of a post office in a town is a matter of the first\nimportance, but the chief object of the authorities in the early days\nof the Imperial Post Office seems to have been economy. As a building\nin a back street naturally costs less than one in a main street, many\nof the city offices are hidden away in the most inaccessible slums. It\nis, indeed, a case of Mohamed and the mountain, and the Post Office,\nsecure in its monopoly, was not going to afford any unnecessary\nconveniences to its clients. Many of my readers will doubtless recall\nsome of those upstairs offices in big cities, which do an enormous\namount of work, especially in the afternoon, the approach being a\nsingle staircase just broad enough for one person to ascend. Imagine\nthe turmoil at the busy hours of the day. In Bara Bazar, Calcutta, and\nBenares City, two famous instances which come to mind at the moment,\nwhere there is a heavy despatch of parcels, the confined space round\nthe parcel windows was the scene of a petty riot every afternoon. Such\na state of affairs could not exist for a month in a country where\nthe better class of people perform their own post office business;\nunfortunately in India all this kind of work is done by native\nmessengers who are not particular about the surroundings of an office\nand usually have plenty of time to spare. Things, however, improved\nin recent years under the direction of Sir Arthur Fanshawe and Sir\nCharles Stewart-Wilson, both of whom had the critical faculty strongly\ndeveloped. Assisted by the genius of Mr. James Begg, Consulting\nArchitect to the Government of India, they have done much to improve\nthe modern post office, with the result that the Department now has\nsome really fine buildings. For beauty of design the new Bombay General\nPost Office, completed in 1910, is one of the finest in the East. The\nreproduction of it in this book gives but little idea of its splendid\nproportions, and its internal structure has been planned with a view to\nfacilitate postal work and to allow for future expansion.\nThe General Post Office in Calcutta was built in 1868 from designs made\nby Mr. Granville, Architect to the Government of India. The site is of\ngreat historical interest owing to its association with the tragedy\nof the Black Hole of Calcutta. The building is hardly large enough\nnow for the great mass of work which it has to transact and, although\nthe removal of the Postmaster-General's Office and the Sorting Branch\nhas somewhat relieved the congestion, there is already a demand for\nincreased accommodation. The same thing has happened in Madras where\nthere is a large Post and Telegraph Office facing the sea, designed\nby Mr. Chisholm and opened to the public in 1885. The expansion of\nbusiness has outgrown the capacity of the building, and the time has\ncome to construct a new post office and to use the present building as\na Telegraph Office. Most head offices and important sub-offices are now\ndesigned to provide a proper hall for the public who wish to transact\nbusiness, with a counter for clerks and sufficient open space in the\nbuilding to allow each branch to work independently and in comfort\nunder the supervision of a responsible officer. At Lahore, Nagpur,\nPatna, Chittagong, Bareilly, Rawalpindi, Cawnpore, Howrah, Poona,\nAgra, Allahabad, Mandalay, Benares, Sholapur and Mount Road Madras,\nexcellent offices have been recently constructed, and the next few\nyears will see Rangoon, Delhi, Dacca, Darjeeling, Ajmere, Ahmedabad and\nseveral other large towns provided with post office buildings, not only\nscientifically planned, but handsomely designed.\nApart from its architectural features the essentials in a post office\nbuilding are very much those of a bank, namely, space, facility for\nsupervision and an arrangement of the branches dealing with the public,\nso that anyone entering the office to do postal business can find\nhis way immediately to the clerk concerned. Space is most necessary,\nespecially in the sorting and delivery of mails. In crowded offices\nthefts occur, packets of mails get mixed up and shot into wrong bags,\nand proper supervision is almost impossible. The old Indian system of\nletting the public stand in the veranda of the post office and transact\nbusiness through the windows of the buildings has always been fatal\nto good and quick work. In the first place it is not easy to find the\nproper window for the exact purpose one requires, and there are seldom\nsufficient for all the branches. In the second place, when one has\ndiscovered the right window, the clerk is seated inside some distance\naway, and it is often difficult to attract his attention. The only\nsensible arrangement is a hall with a proper counter and screen on\nwhich the departments are clearly indicated, and the clerks sitting\nright up face to face with the public. The postal clerk has the gift\nof complete aloofness when his services are in the greatest request,\nbut it requires extra strong nerves to feign indifference to a man who\nis looking straight at you two feet away and shouting his demands in\nunintelligible Hindustani, especially if he hasn't yet breakfasted and\nthe weather is very hot. The real value of the counter is, in fine,\nthat it enables all work with the public to be performed in half the\ntime.\nExcept in the very largest offices where the postmaster sits in some\nsecluded abode like an Olympian god, the postmaster's seat should be\nin the main office and readily accessible to the public. Deputy and\nassistant postmasters are very fine fellows, but nothing can compensate\nfor the eagle eye of the Head. It is extraordinary how quickly a\ndelivery gets out when he is present to urge it along, and how swiftly\none gets one's money orders or savings bank deposits when he is looking\non. For this reason he should be always within hail and, if he can\naccustom himself to deal courteously with the public and treat his\nstaff with justice and consideration, he will be the man that the Post\nOffice requires.\nThe policy in past years of obtaining rented buildings for post offices\nhas proved a serious misfortune to the Department. They are seldom\nor never suitable for public offices, and the various attempts to\nadapt them for postal purposes have been expensive and unsuccessful.\nEvery addition means an increase of rent and, with each renewal of\nthe lease, the rental is regularly enhanced. I don't think that it is\nan exaggeration to say that throughout India the rents paid for Post\nOffice buildings have increased by 50 per cent in the last twenty-five\nyears. In many instances the total value of the house itself has been\npaid many times over, and the Department still continues to pay an\nexorbitant price for the privilege of occupying the ruins. No more\nmiserable or extravagant policy than this can be imagined, and in large\nstations the Post Office is absolutely in the hands of the landlord who\ncan demand what he likes when a lease expires, a position which he is\ninclined to take full advantage of. In recent years the folly of this\nsystem has become more and more apparent, and efforts are now being\nmade to provide Government buildings for all important offices, but any\nsuch scheme must necessarily take time since good sites in suitable\npositions are seldom available and funds are strictly limited.\n[Illustration: GENERAL POST OFFICE. BOMBAY]\nA far-sighted man who thinks that his business will expand in time will\nprovide for such expansion even as a speculation and, when expansion\nis a certainty as in the case of the Post Office which doubles its\nbusiness in ten years, to provide merely for the needs of the moment\nis the falsest of false economy. The standard rule laid down by Sir\nCharles Stewart-Wilson with respect to new buildings was that, when\na new post office is required, the space necessary for the office at\nthe time should be taken and multiplied by two. Then there would be\nsome hope of the accommodation being sufficient at all events for one\nofficial generation. There is hardly a single office built more than\ntwenty years ago which is not now overcrowded and which will not have\nto be enlarged at considerable expense. If this lesson is taken to\nheart by the designers of our new post offices, they will earn the\ngratitude of future generations of postmasters.\nCHAPTER XII\nTHE POST OFFICE IN INDIAN STATES\nThe continent of India is divided into territory of two kinds, namely,\nBritish India and Indian States. There are 652 States with varying\ndegrees of independence according to the treaties that exist between\nthem and the British Government. Except in three of these, Mysore,\nTravancore and Cochin, no proper postal system can be said to have\nexisted before the Imperial Post Office of India was established.\nIn Mysore the Anche, a local post, was a very old institution, and\nits extension to the whole Kingdom was one of the earliest measures\nof the reign of Chikka Devaraj Wadayar in the year 1672. A similar\nsystem known as Anchel has existed for many years in Travancore and\nCochin, but its origin is not known. Other States had no Post Offices\nin the proper sense of the term, and when the Post Office of India\nwas established it extended its operations to many of these without\nany question. From many of the larger States, however, the Imperial\nPost Office was rigidly excluded, with the result that there was\ngreat difficulty in maintaining any postal communication between them\nand British India. Gradually certain States began to develop postal\norganizations of a distinct and independent character with special\npostage stamps of their own and others had organizations without any\npostage stamps. All kinds of different arrangements existed and the\nposition is well described by Sir Frederic Hogg, the Director-General,\nin his Annual Report of 1878-9:\n  \"In some places the delivery of correspondence proceeding from the\n  Imperial Post is effected by an agency independent of this Department,\n  in other places this agency is subject to Imperial Post control;\n  while sometimes again both descriptions of distributing agencies are\n  employed. There exists an arrangement under which the Imperial Post\n  is subsidized for the delivery of correspondence, and there are some\n  localities in Native territory which are destitute of any postal\n  organization, and where letters cannot be delivered at all. Nor is\n  diversity of method the sole difficulty that has to be met. Beyond the\n  limits of this Department information on postal matters can hardly be\n  obtained. Native States issue no _Postal Guide_, print no lists of\n  post offices and publish no postal matters for the information of the\n  public. Postal information is not available. It is uncertain whether a\n  letter will ever be delivered. Not only is prepayment to destination\n  in many cases impossible, but correspondence is subject on delivery\n  to arbitrary and unknown charges. Registration is often impossible.\n  Postcards don't exist and the inhabitants of Native States, which\n  oppose Imperial Post extensions, are debarred from the benefits of the\n  Money Order, Insurance and Value-Payable systems and other facilities\n  afforded by the Imperial post office to the public. Restrictions of\n  correspondence must be the natural consequence of this diversity of\n  system or absence of system, and the only real remedy lies in the\n  gradual extinction of all post organizations and their supersession\n  by the Imperial Post. Such a measure must entail great expense for\n  several years, but uniformity of postage rates, rules and conditions\n  would result and the cost involved would doubtless ultimately be more\n  than covered by increased revenue.\"\nThe first case that came prominently to notice was that of the\nPatiala State with which there was considerable trouble regarding\npostal exchanges. A proposal was made in 1880 to extend the Imperial\nPostal System to the State, but it was not acceptable to the Council\nof Regency, and after much discussion it was decided to prepare a\nConvention according to which a mutual exchange of correspondence could\nbe arranged. The Convention was ratified in 1884 and similar ones were\nmade with Gwalior, Jhind and Nabha in 1885 and with Faridkot and Chamba\nin 1886, the last four constituting with Patiala the group known as the\nPhulkian States. The Conventions with these States are all similar and\nto the following effect:--\n  (1) There shall be a mutual exchange of correspondence, parcels and\n  money orders between the Imperial Post Office and the post offices\n  of the Native State, this exchange including registered, insured and\n  value-payable articles, and being governed by the rules of the _Indian\n  Postal Guide_, as periodically published.\n  (2) Certain selected post offices in British India and in the Native\n  States shall be constituted offices of exchange, and these offices\n  shall be the sole media of exchange for insured and value-payable\n  articles and money orders, and shall be entrusted with the duty of\n  preparing the accounts arising from the exchange.\n  (3) Indian postage stamps and postal stationery overprinted with\n  the name of the Native State shall be supplied by the Government of\n  India on indent at cost price, and shall be used for the purpose of\n  prepaying inland correspondence posted in the State.\n  (4) The Government of India shall bear the cost of conveying mails\n  over British territory, and the Native State shall bear the cost of\n  conveying mails within the limits of the State.\n  (5) The Imperial Post Office shall establish no new post offices in\n  Native State territory without the permission of the Durbar, excepting\n  at Railway Stations or within British Cantonments, the Durbar\n  undertaking the establishment of any post offices or letter-boxes\n  required in State territory by the Imperial Post Office.\n  (6) On foreign correspondence posted in the State, postage shall be\n  prepaid only by means of Imperial postage stamps not bearing the\n  overprint, postage stamps with such overprint not being recognized for\n  the purpose.\n  (7) Monthly accounts shall be kept of the amounts due to the Imperial\n  Post Office by the Native State and vice versa upon the money order\n  exchange.\nNo sooner had these Conventions been agreed to than Government began\nto regret the step that had been taken, and it was then seen that real\npostal unity in the country could only be effected by the abolition of\nseparate systems in the different States, a policy directly opposed to\nthat which had been adopted towards Gwalior and the Phulkian States.\nWhen, therefore, the Dewan or Prime Minister of Mysore asked for a\nConvention, he was met with a definite refusal, and an alternative\nproposal was made to the Mysore Government that the Imperial Post\nOffice should undertake the postal service of the State. The proposal\nwas accepted in 1887, and the Mysore Anche was abolished at the end of\n1888. This measure of amalgamation, in which the Mysore Darbar rendered\nsubstantial assistance, was carried into effect from the beginning of\n1889. The facilities afforded by the Indian Post Office, which were\nthus extended to the whole of Mysore, were fully appreciated by the\npeople and resulted in a great development of postal business, the\nnumber of articles delivered having increased in the first year by no\nless than a million.\nThe case of Mysore was such a striking example of the benefits arising\nfrom the unification of a State Post Office with the Imperial system\nthat Sir Arthur Fanshawe, the Director-General, used every endeavour\nto extend the policy to other States. The result was that the Kashmir\nState followed suit in 1894, and shortly afterwards Bamra, Nandgaon and\nPudakottah. The efforts to win over Hyderabad, the premier State of\nIndia, were not successful. Although negotiations were extended over\nmany years and every inducement was offered, the Nizam steadfastly\nrefused to surrender the management of his own Posts as a separate\nsystem.\nIn 1906 Mr. Stewart-Wilson, who succeeded Sir Arthur Fanshawe as\nDirector-General, started a fresh campaign for the unification of the\nPost Office all over India, and he succeeded in getting Indore and\nBhopal to join in 1908. Since then Jaipur asked for a Convention, but\nthis was refused in accordance with the policy that Conventions were\nundesirable as only tending to perpetuate the many diversities which\nGovernment were anxious to abolish. The position at present is that out\nof 652 States, 637, including Faridkote which voluntarily abandoned\nits Convention in 1904, have cast in their lot with the Imperial Post\nOffice, The number of outstanding States is thus fifteen, of which\nonly Hyderabad, Gwalior, Jaipur, Patiala and Travancore are of much\nimportance.\n[Illustration: GENERAL POST OFFICE. MADRAS]\nThe policy of the Government of India has been clearly laid down in\nthe correspondence dealing with the unification of the Hyderabad Posts\nwith the Imperial Post Office. The Government is unwilling to take over\nthe postal system of any State without the full consent of the Durbar\nor State Council, but it exercises the right of opening an Imperial\npost office or placing a letter-box anywhere in a State if Imperial\ninterests require it. As a rule such offices are opened at railway\nstations or military cantonments, but they may be opened elsewhere in\ncases of real necessity. The aim of the Government is towards complete\nunification of the Post Office all over the country. The inconvenience\nof separate systems is keenly felt, and the inequality of Conventions\non mutual terms between a great Empire and a small State is obvious.\nThe principle upon which each country of the Postal Union retains its\nown postage on foreign correspondence is based on the theory that for\nevery letter sent a letter is received, and that the transit charges\nare fairly apportioned, and in many cases the difference is slight\nwhen spread over a long period. When the principle is applied to a\nsmall State in a big country like India, the burden of handling\ncorrespondence is very unevenly divided. For every ten miles a letter\nhas to be conveyed within the State, the Post Office of India may have\nto convey it a thousand miles or more at a cost altogether out of\nproportion to the postage receipts for half the correspondence handled.\nThe difference is still more marked in the case of parcels and money\norders and, despite all efforts to make the division of fees correspond\nwith the work done by each administration, the position has never been\nsatisfactory.\nThe postal future of the few States that still refuse to join the\nImperial system is uncertain. All compromises have been rejected, and\nthe arguments of prestige and prejudice are used to contest those of\nuniformity and convenience. As matters stand now the inconsistencies of\nsmall postal systems within the Indian Empire seem likely to continue\nuntil a firm hand on the one part and enlightened opinion on the other\ncombine to abolish them.\nCHAPTER XIII\nTHE OVERLAND ROUTE\nOverland trade between Europe and India has existed from the earliest\ntimes and was fully developed during the Roman Empire. After the\noverthrow of the Western Empire by Odoacer in A.D. 476 and during the\nstruggles with the Persians and Saracens the overland trade with the\nEast languished until the consolidation of the Saracenic power at\nDamascus, Cairo and Bagdad. It was again thrown into disorder by the\nascendancy of the Turkish Guard at Bagdad, and did not revive until the\nthirteenth century, when, as the result of the Crusades, Venice and\nGenoa became the great emporia for Eastern spices, drugs and silks. The\nmerchandise came by land to the ports of the Levant and the Black Sea,\nbut the capture of Constantinople by the Ottoman Turks in 1483 drove\nthe traffic to Alexandria, which continued to be the mart for Eastern\nwares until the discovery of the Cape route to India altered the whole\nconditions of trade.\nThe first historical attempt to reach England from India by the\noverland route was made in 1777 when Lord Pigot, Governor of Madras,\nwas placed in confinement by his own Council. Both parties attempted\nto avoid loss of time in representing their case to the Board of\nDirectors by despatching messengers up the Red Sea and across Egypt.\nThe Council's messenger, Captain Dibdin, managed to land at Tor near\nthe mouth of the Gulf of Suez, to make his way across Egypt and finally\nto reach his destination. Not so Mr. Eyles Irwin, the messenger of the\nGovernor. He sailed in the brig _Adventure_, and after many mishaps\nonly succeeded in reaching Cosseir on the Red Sea in July, where he and\nhis companions were detained by the Turks.\nIn 1778, after the fall of Pondicherry, Warren Hastings was determined\nthat the good news should go home via Suez, and he engaged to send Mr.\nGreuber by a fast sailing packet to that port with the despatches. The\nproposal was strenuously opposed by Francis and Wheler, but Hastings,\nhaving Barwell on his side and a casting vote in Council, was able to\ncarry out his intention. Mr. Greuber managed to get through by this\nroute, but neither Hastings nor the Board of Directors anticipated the\nobjections which the Ottoman Porte had to any navigation of the Red\nSea by the Company's ships. In 1779 the Porte issued a firman putting\na stop to all trade between Egypt and India by the way of Suez and\ndecreed that ships from India could proceed only as far as Jeddah. If\ndespatches were to be sent by Suez, the messenger conveying them had\nto travel from Jeddah by Turkish ship. This was a hopeless arrangement\nand meant endless delay, besides which the fate of messengers or of\nany Europeans crossing the desert between Suez and Cairo was very\nuncertain. The terrible dangers and difficulties of the journey are\ngraphically described in Mrs. Fay's letters. Owing to the opposition of\nthe Turkish Government the overland route was abandoned for some time,\nbut in 1797 an arrangement was made with them and the company's cruiser\n_Panther_, under the command of Captain Speak, sailed in that year\nwith despatches. She left Bombay on the 9th March and reached Suez on\nthe 5th May, where she waited for three months for return despatches;\nbut since these did not arrive she returned to Bombay, and, being\ndelayed by contrary winds at Mocha, finally arrived after an absence of\nthirteen months.\nIn 1798 the Government carried into execution a project which they had\nlong been contemplating, namely, the establishment of a mail route from\nIndia to England by the Persian Gulf and Turkish Arabia. A number of\npacket boats were put on this service which plied between Bombay and\nBasrah once a month. Private correspondence was allowed to be sent by\nthis route upon the following conditions:--\n  1. No letter was to exceed four inches in length, two in breadth, nor\n  to be sealed with wax.\n  2. All letters were to be sent to the Secretary to Government with\n  a note specifying the name of the writer and with the writer's name\n  under the address, to be signed by the Secretary previous to deposit\n  in the packet, as a warrant of permission.\n  3. Postage had to be paid upon the delivery of each letter at the rate\n  of 10 rupees for a single letter weighing one-quarter of a rupee, for\n  letters weighing half a rupee 15 rupees, and for letters weighing one\n  rupee 20 rupees.\nTwo mails were sent by each despatch, one by Bagdad and one by Aleppo.\nWe are not told if many private people were wealthy enough to pay these\noverwhelming rates of postage or were prepared to face the irksome\nconditions imposed upon anyone using this route.\nIn the first quarter of the nineteenth century the East India Company\ncontinued to retain a Resident at Busra long after their trade had\nceased to be of any consequence. One of his principal duties was in\nconnection with the desert post, by which despatches were forwarded to\nEngland from the Bombay Government. Later on the post of Resident was\nabolished, and in 1833 the desert post was closed, as despatches, when\nforwarded overland, were sent in the Company's cruisers via Cosseir on\nthe Red Sea and Cairo.\nOn the 5th November, 1823, a meeting was held in the Town Hall at\nCalcutta to discuss the feasibility of establishing communication with\nGreat Britain by means of steam navigation via the Mediterranean,\nIsthmus of Suez and the Red Sea. A premium of \u00a310,000 was offered\nto the first company or society that would bring out a steam vessel\nto India and establish the communication between India and England.\nThe first steamer to reach India via the Cape was the _Enterprise_,\ncommanded by Captain Johnson, in 1826. She was a vessel of five hundred\ntons burthen with two engines of sixty horse-power each and also built\nto sail, and she performed the journey in fifty-four days. Her great\nfault was want of room for coal, a circumstance which nearly led to a\ndisaster on the voyage, as the coal, which had to be packed on top of\nthe boilers, ignited and the fire was extinguished with difficulty.\nThe credit for establishing the Suez route belongs to Lieutenant\nThomas Waghorn, of the East India Company's Marine. He was the first\nto organize direct communication between England and India by means of\nfast steamers in the Mediterranean and Red Seas. In 1830 the steamer\n_Hugh Lindsay_ made the first voyage from Bombay to Suez, and Waghorn\nfrom that time worked hard at his scheme. He built eight halting places\nin the desert between Cairo and Suez, provided carriages and placed\nsmall steamers on the Nile and the canal of Alexandria, Waghorn's\ntriumph was on the 31st October, 1845, when he bore the mails from\nBombay, only thirty days old, into London. This memorable feat settled\nthe question of the superiority of the overland as compared with the\nold Cape route, but it was not given effect to without great opposition\nfrom the shipping companies.\nIn 1840 the Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company obtained a\ncharter of incorporation, and one of the conditions was that steam\ncommunication with India should be established within two years. This\ncondition was fulfilled by the despatch of the _Hindustan_ to India\nvia the Cape of Good Hope in 1842. The advantages of the route across\nthe isthmus of Suez were, however, too obvious, and the P. and O.\nCompany took up a contract for the conveyance of mails between London\nand Suez, while vessels of the East India Company's navy conveyed them\nbetween Suez and Bombay. The journey from Alexandria to Suez was most\nuncomfortable for passengers. It was made by canal boat to Cairo, and\nthen by two-wheeled vehicles across the desert to Suez. In 1844 a\ncontract was given for five years to the P. and O. Company to establish\na regular mail service in the Indian seas, with a subsidy of \u00a3160,000\na year for the combined India and China services. This contract was\nsubsequently extended, and in January, 1853, a fresh contract was\nconcluded with the Company under which fortnightly communication was\nsecured between England, India and China, with a service once in\ntwo months between Singapore and Sydney. On the 7th July, 1854, a\nsupplementary contract was entered into for the conveyance of mails\nbetween Southampton and Bombay through Alexandria, by which way the\ntransit time was twenty-eight days. The total subsidy under both\ncontracts was \u00a3224,300 a year. The sea postage collected by the United\nKingdom and India was devoted to the payment of this subsidy, and\nany deficiency was borne equally by both countries. In 1867 a fresh\ncontract for twelve years was concluded with the Company for a weekly\nservice to and from Bombay and a fortnightly one to and from China and\nJapan. The annual subsidy was fixed at \u00a3400,000, to be increased to\n\u00a3500,000 if such should be necessary, in order to enable the Company\nto pay 6 per cent dividend upon their capital. This absurd clause was\ncancelled in 1870, and the annual subsidy was fixed at \u00a3450,000.\nThe Suez Canal was opened in 1869, but owing to difficulties with the\nBritish Government it was not used for the passage of the mail steamers\nuntil many years later. In 1880 the Southampton route was abolished,\nand the contract for the weekly service stipulated for a transit time\nof 17\u00bd days between London and Bombay via Alexandria and Suez. It was\nnot until 1888 that the mails were sent by the Suez Canal instead of by\nrail across Egypt.\nDuring the term of the contract 1867-1869, the port for reception and\ndespatch of mails was Marseilles. Arrangements were made in the new\ncontract of 1869 for the substitution of Brindisi for Marseilles on the\ncompletion of the Mont Cenis Tunnel and railway, and Brindisi remained\nthe European port for the reception and despatch of mails until the\noutbreak of war in 1914.\n[Illustration: POST OFFICE. AGRA]\nOn the 1st July, 1898, a new contract was drawn up for a combined\nEastern and Australian service. The transit time between London and\nBombay was limited to 14\u00bd days and the annual subsidy was fixed at\n\u00a3330,000, of which \u00a3245,000 represented the payment for the service\nbetween Brindisi, India, Ceylon, the Straits Settlements and China.\nThe last contract was entered into with the Company on the 1st July,\n1908, for seven years. The transit time between Brindisi and Bombay\nwas reduced to 11\u00bc days with an allowance of thirty-six hours in the\nmonsoon, and the total subsidy was fixed at \u00a3305,000.\nThe present contract with the P. and O. Company expires in 1922, and\nwhat fate the future has in store for the Suez Canal route we cannot\ntell. There has been much talk of a through railway from Calais to\nKarachi, and with the Channel tunnel completed this would mean a\nrailway route from London to India. The cost, however, of transporting\nthe Indian mail, which often consists of more than ten thousand bags,\nover this enormous distance by rail would probably be prohibitive.\nUnder the International Postal Convention each country traversed would\nhave the right to claim a territorial transit charge, and with fast\nsteamers between Marseilles and Bombay the saving in time might not be\nso great as has been anticipated.\nAnother competitor to the steamer service has appeared recently in the\nform of Aviation. Several proposals for an Air Mail Service between\nEngland and India have been made, but the success of long distance\ntransits by air is not yet assured.\nIt has been stated that the old familiar scenes at Port Said and Aden\nwill soon be as unknown to the Eastern traveller as Table Bay and St.\nHelena. The old trade routes are to be revived again, no longer with\nslow and picturesque caravans, but with rushing trains and aeroplanes.\nDespite these prophecies the P. and O. continue to build new ships,\nthey book passages even a year ahead, and are preparing to tender for a\nnew mail contract. Is this mere contempt, is it optimism, or is it the\nadoption of Warren Hastings' motto: \"Mens aequa in arduis\"?\nCHAPTER XIV\nTHE SEA POST OFFICE\nIn 1859 the Postmaster-General, United Kingdom, announced that it had\nbeen determined to open the homeward-bound mails on board the steamers\nbetween Alexandria and Southampton and Alexandria and Marseilles, with\na view to effect a partial or complete sorting of the letters and\nnewspapers. He also suggested that the clerks entertained for this\nservice might during the voyage out be employed in sorting the letters\nand newspapers contained in the mails despatched from England to India.\nAt the same time he inquired whether the Government of India would be\nwilling to bear their proportion of the cost of the scheme. The offer\nwas declined on the ground that English clerks could not sort letters\ncorrectly for stations in India, where there were many places with the\nsame name.\nIn 1860 the Bombay Government reported that on the Europe side of Egypt\nthe former practice of sending an Admiralty Agent with each steamer\nof the Peninsular and Oriental Company in charge of mails had been\nabolished, and instead the Company carried a couple of post office\nclerks to sort the homeward mail. They embarked on the Marseilles boat\nat Alexandria, and before arriving at Malta they sorted all the letters\nfor transmission via Marseilles. At Malta these clerks were transferred\nto the vessel for Southampton, and when the steamer reached that port\nall the heavy mails were sorted. The Bombay Government suggested that\na similar arrangement might be adopted east of Suez, the clerks told\noff for the work being employed in the Bombay post office when they\nwere not engaged on the steamer. The Bombay Government's suggestion was\nnegatived on the ground of expense in view of the unsatisfactory state\nof the Indian finances at the time.\nIn 1864 the subject was revived by Lord Lawrence, The Director-General,\nMr. Monteath, agreed with the objections formerly urged that English\nPost Office clerks could not sort letters for all stations in India,\nbut held that they could sort letters received by the Marseilles route\nonly for Bombay and put up in boxes the letters and papers for the\nseveral Governments or Administrations in the provinces. It was then\ndecided that sorting to the above limited extent might best be done\nin London and that, if it were done by a sorting establishment on a\nsteamer west of Suez, the Indian Government might be reasonably called\nupon for a contribution. Thus the discussion ended for the time and\nnothing was done.\nThe subject was revived in 1868, when weekly communication between\nEngland and India was established. In the new contract with the\nPeninsular and Oriental Company provision was made to accommodate a\npostal sorting office and give free passages to sorters on the vessels\neast of Suez. The Government of India decided to take advantage of this\narrangement and authorized experimental sea-sorting establishments on\nthe scale of six sets of sorters for fifty-two voyages annually in each\ndirection between Bombay and Suez. Each set consisted of a head sorter,\na sorter and two packers. The calculation was based on an allowance\nof fifteen days each way for the voyage to and from Suez, with an\ninterval of from two days to six days between a return from Suez and\nthe next departure from Bombay, Notice was at the same time given for\nthe withdrawal of the Naval Agents employed on board the steamers. One\nof the principal duties of these Naval Agents appears to have been to\nreport whether penalties for delay should be exacted or not according\nto the circumstances in which the delays occurred.\nIn his final report in 1870 on the working of the system, as a\nresult of which the establishment was permanently continued, the\nDirector-General described the work of the sea post office as\n\"embracing the sorting of mails for transmission to the various\nlocalities of a huge continent, as well as the checking of the accounts\nmade out in respect of such correspondence by the various European\noffices from which the mails are received.... It is a work which, in\nan office on shore, would be distributed among a large establishment,\neach member of which would have to learn only a small portion of\nthe business; and it is a work the bad performance of which even\noccasionally will give rise to the most serious consequences.\" The\nexperimental formation of the sea-sorting office had succeeded so well\nthat the inward overland mail was received at Bombay ready for despatch\ninto the interior, instead of having to be detained there for about\nsix hours, which often involved the loss of a whole day for certain\nplaces. The Bombay delivery ticket-holders got their overland letters\nat the post office window about ten minutes after the mail had arrived,\nand the delivery to Calcutta ticket-holders of letters, which had been\nsorted at sea, was similarly expedited.\nThe Indian sea-sorting office sorted letters for the United Kingdom,\nbut the London General Post Office did not reciprocate by sorting the\nmail for India, the latter being done at sea, which enabled London\nto dispense with a large expenditure for Naval Agents. Although the\nrevised contract with the Peninsular and Oriental Company provided for\nproper sorting accommodation on their vessels eastward of Suez, there\nwas no similar provision westward of Suez; on the contrary, it was\nspecially provided that the master or commander of the vessel should\ntake charge of the mails to the west of Suez. The fact was that the\nwork done by the Indian sea-sorting office on the homeward voyage was\nso complete and thorough that the British Post Office was able to\nabolish all its sea-sorting establishments west of Suez.\nThe steady growth in the work to be done and in the number of men\nrequired to cope with it gave rise to many difficulties in connection\nwith the provision of suitable and adequate accommodation on board the\nsteamers, the proper supervision of the staff, and the improvement of\nthe service. The sorting arrangements had to be revised frequently, and\nthe extent of the run, which, as stated above, was originally between\nSuez and Bombay, had in 1890 to be curtailed to the voyage between\nAden and Bombay in consequence of the decision of the Peninsular and\nOriental Company to tranship the outward and homeward mails at Aden\nevery alternate week.\nWith the steady increase in the volume of the mails to be dealt with,\nit was found necessary to add to this staff considerably from time to\ntime. In 1873 the total staff of the six sets comprising the \"Marine\nPostal Service, Suez and Bombay,\" was raised to six mail officers,\nsix assistant mail officers, six supernumerary assistant mail officers\nand twelve packers, i.e. five men for each set. When the journey was\ncurtailed to the Bombay-Aden run the sets were reduced to three, but\nthe number in each set had to be steadily increased until in 1908 it\nreached twenty-nine, consisting of an assistant mail officer, fifteen\nsorters and thirteen packers.\nIn the year 1899 a special inquiry, made in connection with a question\nasked in Parliament as to the effect of the introduction of Imperial\npenny postage on work in the sea post office, revealed the fact that\nthe conditions of the service were very exacting on the staff. The\nextent to which the sorting of the mails could be done at Bombay or in\nthe Railway Mail Service instead of at sea was very fully considered,\nand, although the Committee of postal officers convened at Bombay\nto examine the subject did not recommend the discontinuance of the\nexisting arrangement, its retention was made conditional upon the\nadoption of a number of special measures to reduce the amount of work\nat sea.\nA further inquiry into the conditions of service in the sea post\noffice, instituted in the year 1905 in connection with a representation\non the subject made to the Secretary of State for India by the late\nMr. Samuel Smith, M.P., again brought into prominence the fact that\nthe work had to be performed in circumstances of a peculiarly trying\nnature. It also established that, owing to the rapid increase, at the\nrate of 10 to 12 per cent a year, in the volume of the mails, the\nquestion of arranging for the sorting work to be done on shore instead\nof at sea could not be deferred much longer. This growth was bound to\ninvolve further additions to the staff from time to time, while the\naccommodation which it was possible to secure for the work, especially\non board the through mail steamers, was strictly limited.\nThe subject of abolishing the sea post office altogether, or, at least,\nof restricting it to very small proportions, was again taken up in\n1907, as the Postmaster-General, Bombay, reported that the service\ncould not be placed on a proper footing without the provision of much\nmore accommodation on board the through steamers, and expressed the\nopinion that the time had come for considering whether it was not\npossible to have most of the work of sorting done on shore.\nBy the end of 1908 the volume of the mails had become so large and the\ndifficulty of dealing with them on board so great that a radical change\nwas needed. The question of having the sorting work done on shore was,\ntherefore, fully examined again with the Postmaster-General, Bombay.\nThe position at the time was as follows: The mails for India despatched\nfrom the United Kingdom were received by the Aden-Bombay sea post\noffice partly sorted for the various territorial divisions of India,\nand partly unsorted. The unsorted portion, which amounted to about\n40 per cent of the total, consisted of the articles of all classes\nposted or received in London late on Friday evening, which the London\nGeneral Post Office did not sort before despatch. The Indian mails from\ncountries other than the United Kingdom were received by the sea post\noffice wholly unsorted. With the exception of trade circulars and price\nlists, all the unsorted mails received were dealt with by the sea post\noffice between Aden and Bombay. The average number of the unregistered\nletters, postcards, newspapers, packets of printed papers, and samples\nwhich had to be sorted by the sea post office on each voyage from Aden\nto Bombay was 150,000 and, in addition, some 7000 registered articles\nhad to be specially treated and about 6000 unpaid articles examined and\ntaxed with postage. This work had to be performed under very trying\nconditions and, during the monsoon season especially, the staff was\nhard pressed to finish the sorting before the steamer reached Bombay.\nThe accommodation for sorting the mails provided on the through mail\nsteamers was becoming less and less adequate as the volume of the mail\nincreased and no additional space could be obtained.\nThe proposal to meet the situation by again extending the run of the\nsea post office to Port Said or Suez had to be negatived owing to the\ntranshipment at Aden on alternate weeks. Moreover, it was undesirable\nto resort to a measure of this kind, as, quite apart from the large\nadditional expenditure involved in return for insufficient advantages,\nthe difficulty of keeping the staff under close and constant\nsupervision was becoming more pronounced. In fact, this difficulty of\nexercising proper supervision over the enormous volume of work at sea\nfurnished in itself a very strong argument in favour of having the work\nof sorting and dealing with these important mails done entirely on\nshore.\nIt was estimated that, with the provision of all necessary appliances\nand conveniences for dealing rapidly with the work on shore, a staff of\nabout 150 well-trained and efficient sorters could do within a period\nof two and a half hours from the time of the _landing_ of the mails the\nwhole of the work then done by the sea post office. This number could\nbe easily provided from among the sorters already employed in the sea\npost office, in the Bombay General Post Office, and in sections of the\nRailway Mail Service working into and out of Bombay. The provision of\nsuitable accommodation for the sorting to be done on shore, which was\nformerly a matter of much difficulty owing to the want of space in the\nGeneral Post Office, Bombay, no longer existed as the new General Post\nOffice near the Victoria Terminus, the building of which was then well\nadvanced, had ample room for this purpose.\nIt was unnecessary to enter into any examination of the question in\nrespect of the outward mails from India as the whole of the work done\nby the sea post office in connection with those mails could just as\neasily be performed, without any public or postal inconvenience and at\nvery little extra cost, by the Railway Mail Service and in the various\nlarge post offices in India.\nIn view of the increasingly unfavourable conditions under which the\nsorting had to be performed at sea and of the greater security and\nefficiency that would be secured by having it done on shore, it was\nadmitted that the best course would be to abolish the sea sorting\nservice, but to do so gradually in order to avoid any dislocation in\nthe disposal of the foreign mails. The various Indian Chambers of\nCommerce were consulted in 1911, and the general opinion was that\nno change should be made until the Alexandra Docks at Bombay were\ncompleted. The authorities of the Bombay Port Trust were accordingly\nrequested to provide a sorting hall for the Post Office on the new\npier. On the completion of the new mole in the harbour the mail\nsteamer, instead of discharging its mails in the stream, would be able\nto berth alongside the pier; the delay in transhipment would be greatly\nreduced, and with a sufficient staff of sorters on the spot the mails\nwould be ready for despatch by the special trains due to leave Bombay\nwithin four and a half hours of the signalling of the steamers.\nThe question was finally settled by the outbreak of the War in 1914.\nThe sailings of the mail steamers became very irregular, accommodation\non board could no longer be provided for sorters, and consequently the\nsorting of both the outward and inward mails had to be performed in the\nBombay General Post Office. The sorting of the homeward mail on shore\nwas undertaken from the 15th August, 1914, and the last inward mail\nsorted on board arrived at Bombay on the 27th August, 1914. In spite of\nwar conditions, the first special train usually started within seven\nhours of the steamer having been signalled. In these circumstances the\nsea post office was formally abolished as such, and the Indian share of\nthe Eastern Mail Service subsidy was reduced by a sum of \u00a38800 a year\non account of its discontinuance.\nNo other Postal Administration of the world has ever attempted to\nundertake the task of sorting the foreign mails while in course of\ntransit by sea on anything like the scale on which this work was done\nby the Indian Post Office. A certain amount of sorting of mails was\ndone on the steamers of the White Star Line sailing between Liverpool\nand New York, and on those of the American Line sailing between\nSouthampton and New York, also on board the German steamers sailing\nbetween Bremen or Hamburg and New York. The work done on those lines,\nhowever, was on a very minor scale and a small staff of four men on\nthe White Star and American Line steamers, and of three on the German\nsteamers was employed. The strength of the staff of the sea post\noffice working between Bombay and Aden was, in 1914, one hundred and\nthree men, divided into three sets of one assistant mail officer,\nseventeen sorters and fourteen packers each, with seven probationary\nsorters. The staff was a most extravagant one; the men were not\nemployed for more than half their time. By using a large staff and with\nproper organisation the work that took five days at sea is now being\ndone more efficiently in a less number of hours in Bombay.\nUnder present arrangements the mails are hoisted from the steamer\ndirect into the Foreign Mail Sorting Office on the Ballard Pier. There\nthey are opened and sorted for the various parts of India by about one\nhundred and fifty sorters, and within three hours they are ready for\nthe postal special trains which leave the pier station for Calcutta,\nMadras, Lucknow and the Punjab. Foreign Mail Service sections work in\neach of these trains to deal with the final sorting and distribution of\nthe mails to the various stations _en route_.\nCHAPTER XV\nTHE POST OFFICE IN MESOPOTAMIA AND THE PERSIAN GULF\nThe Great War has thrown such strong light on the countries which\nborder on the Persian Gulf that it may be interesting to record the\nimportant part which has been played by the Post Office of India in\nconnection with imperial policy in Persia and Mesopotamia.\nOwing to political considerations and the necessity of keeping open\nalternative means of communication between Europe and India, the\nimportance of the Persian Gulf and Mesopotamia as a mail route was\nestablished nearly a century and a half ago. The ships of the old\nIndian Navy carried mail packets from Bombay to Basra, which was the\nstarting-point of a regular dromedary post to Aleppo, linked with a\nhorse post from Aleppo to Constantinople, and it is an interesting\npiece of history that Lord Nelson's letter to the Bombay Government,\ngiving the news of the naval victory of the Nile, was transmitted by\nthis route.\nDuring the first half of the last century, as the Persian Gulf and the\nShat-el-Arab were infested with pirates, these waters were avoided by\nBritish trading vessels, so that, when a ship of the Indian Navy was\nnot available to convey mails to Bombay, letters from the Political\nResidents of the East India Company stationed at Bagdad and Basra were\nsent to India by the desert route via Damascus and Beyrout and thence\nthrough Egypt, and correspondence between Bushire and India had to be\ndiverted through Teheran and Alexandria. In 1862 a regular six-weekly\nmail service between Bombay and Basra was undertaken by the British\nIndia Steam Navigation Company, and about the same time the Euphrates\nand Tigris Steam Navigation Company agreed to extend the mail service\nfrom Basra to Bagdad by running their steamers in connection with\nthe ocean line. The postal system at the coast ports, however, was\ndefective owing to the absence of local post offices for the collection\nand distribution of mails, but these were gradually established from\nthe year 1864 onwards at Bushire, Muscat, Bandar Abas, Bahrain,\nMohammerah, and other places under the protection of British Consular\nofficers, and post offices were opened at Bagdad and Basra in Turkish\nArabia in 1868.\nAlthough all these post offices were primarily intended for the benefit\nof political officers of the Government of India, they have proved\njust as useful to the consular representatives of other European\nnations and to the public, and there is no doubt that, by supplying\na commercial want, they gave a great impetus to trade in the Persian\nGulf region. For years there was no other local postal service worthy\nof the name, and intercourse with the hinterland was entirely under\nthe control of the British Consular officers. In 1868 Turkish Arabia\nwas wholly dependent for regular communication with the outside world\non English enterprise. There were two mail routes from Bagdad, one to\nTeheran via Kermanshah, a distance of 480 miles, and the other from\nBagdad to Damascus, 500 miles, in connection with the British Consulate\nat the latter place and the route to England via Beyrout. A monthly\nmail service was also maintained by the Government of India for the\nconvenience of the British Legation at Teheran and the Residency of\nBushire, the route lying through Shiraz and Ispahan, where British\nagencies had been established, but no postage was charged on letters\ndespatched, as the line was kept up purely for political purposes. In\naddition to this post the Indo-European Telegraph Department had a\nweekly service from Bushire to Shiraz. These Persian lines were worked\npartly by runners and partly by horsemen, and continued until the\nPersian Government inaugurated its own service in 1877 and established\na weekly post between Bushire and Teheran.\nThe Turkish representative at the International Postal Congress held\nat Berne in 1878 urged that all foreign post offices in the Ottoman\ndominions should be suppressed, but the demand was rejected as it\ninvolved a diplomatic question outside the province of the Congress.\nIn 1881 the Turkish Government established a dromedary post between\nBagdad and Damascus in opposition to the English consular overland\npost and, after repeated representations on the part of the Ottoman\nGovernment, the latter was abolished in 1886 after having been in\nexistence for upwards of a hundred years. In the following year the\nOttoman Government closed their own line, and the only direct route\nleft open to Europe was the Turkish post via Mosul on the Tigris to\nConstantinople. When reporting the closing of the British desert post,\nthe British Consul-General at Bagdad asked the Postmaster-General in\nLondon to warn the British public not to post anything of value by any\nroute other than the one from London to Bombay and thence by sea to\nBasra and Bagdad, and the numerous complaints of the loss of parcels,\nbooks and letters fully justified his want of confidence in the Ottoman\npost.\nThe British post offices at Basra and Bagdad and the service by river\nsteamer between these two ports were subjected to marked hostility on\nthe part of the Turks, notwithstanding the continued efforts of the\nBritish Consular officer to limit their functions. Competition with the\nlocal Ottoman postal institutions was never aimed at, and Indian post\noffices were primarily and chiefly maintained for Consular purposes\nand located in the Consulate buildings. Local traders, however, were\nnot slow to discover the advantage of the safe transit offered by the\nIndian mail service and the convenience of the parcel post system, but\ntheir efforts to avoid payment of Customs dues on articles imported by\nthis means were frustrated at the outset by the British Consul-General\nof Bagdad, Sir Arnold Kemball, who went so far as to suspend the\nparcel traffic in the interests of the Turkish Government until the\nlatter could make adequate provision for Custom-House examination\nand levying of dues on both import and export parcels. After various\nmethods of detecting and dealing with dutiable parcels had been\ntried for many years, the system of handing over all inward parcels\nreceived from the offices of exchange at Bombay, Karachi and Bushire\nto the Turkish Customs at Bagdad and Basra with copies of the Customs\ndeclarations and invoices received was adopted by the Consular post\noffices, the addressees being required to take delivery at the Customs\nHouse on presentation of a delivery order signed by the British-Indian\npostmaster.\nAnyone who has had experience of the vagaries of Turkish Customs House\nofficials can sympathize with people whose goods fell into their\nhands. The smallest irregularity, however unintentional, detected\nin a declaration or manifest could only be set right by the liberal\ndistribution of bribes. Woe betide the scrupulous owner or consignee\nwho declined to adopt such methods and decided instead to stand by\nhis rights and carry his complaint to higher authorities. The story\nis told of a young missionary lady whose wedding outfit was packed\ninto a box which was taken in custody by a Turkish official and was\ndetained for the ostensible purpose of examination of the contents and\nassessment of duty. The settlement of this knotty point proceeded in a\nleisurely fashion for weeks, because the owner's conscience or purse\nwould not permit of her speedily clinching the matter by a suitable\npayment. When the box was finally delivered the addressee found, to\nher horror, that the wedding dress and other articles of her trousseau\nbore unmistakable traces of having been worn. To add insult to injury,\nthe Customs authorities threatened to confiscate the goods, saying that\nthere was a prohibition against the importation of \"worn clothes\"!\nThere is no doubt that they had been freely used by the harem of some\nOttoman Customs official, as the curiosity of Turkish ladies regarding\nthe latest European fashions was notorious and could usually overcome\nofficial scruples.\nWhen the Inland Insurance system was introduced in India in 1877 it was\nextended to the post offices in the Persian Gulf and Turkish Arabia.\nThe Insured Parcel Post was used largely by traders at Bagdad, Basra\nand Bushire for the exportation of specie, and the total value insured\nin 1882-83 amounted to over twenty-four lakhs of rupees. The pearl\nmerchants at Bahrain, which is the centre of the pearl fisheries in the\nGulf, availed themselves largely of the Insured Parcels Post for the\nexport of valuable parcels of pearls. Protests were soon lodged by the\nBritish India Steam Navigation Company, which held the mail contract,\nagainst this competition on the part of the Post Office on the ground\nthat it infringed their monopoly. They argued that the carriage of\nspecie and pearls was almost the sole source of profit from the Persian\nGulf service, and after a careful review of the whole question it was\ndecided in 1885 to abolish insurance of parcels and letters to and from\nthe British post offices in the Gulf and Turkish Arabia. This measure\nresulted in a heavy loss in postal revenue, but was only fair to a\nCompany which had risked much in maintaining British trade relations\nwith that part of the world, and which has done more than any other to\nthrottle German competition.\nThe steamship companies employed to carry mails have all along had\nto contend with serious difficulties at the Gulf ports. The original\nmail service undertaken by the British India Steam Navigation Company\nbetween Bombay and Basra, and by the Euphrates and Tigris Steam\nNavigation Company between Basra and Bagdad, was a six-weekly one,\nbut a monthly service was arranged in 1866 and a fortnightly service\nin 1870. From 1878 onwards mails were despatched weekly in both\ndirections, and this has been supplemented in recent years by a fast\nservice in connection with the English mail, the steamers calling only\nat the principal intermediate ports. There were many obstacles to\nspeedy transit and delivery of mails, such as absence of lights and\nbuoys, want of harbour facilities at the Persian ports, difficulties\nof navigation in the river Tigris during the dry season, obstruction\non the part of the authorities, especially the Turks, and difficulty\nof obtaining regular labour at the various anchorages. At many places\nthe mail steamers have to anchor far out in the roadstead, and in rough\nweather there is some risk and delay in landing and embarking mails.\nThe mail contract with the British India Steam Navigation Company\nrequired that mails should be exchanged during daylight, and three\nhours were specified for the purpose; but this condition could not\nalways be observed, and it was in the power of the local postmaster to\nupset all arrangements. Unrest was a common feature of the political\nlife of these parts, especially when there was a change of Governors,\nand the authorities were generally too feeble to cope with a rising\namong the Arab or Persian tribes without the assistance of British\nbluejackets or Indian troops, who were not always available on the\nspot. At such times the Indian postmaster used to shut up his office\nlong before darkness set in and barricade himself and his mails in the\ninner rooms of the building, so that the ship's mail officer arriving\nat dusk had no easy task in getting access to him. On one occasion the\nPolitical Resident of the Persian Gulf, whose word is law in these\nregions, was a passenger by the mail steamer which arrived at a certain\nport on a very sultry summer evening. Being anxious that the steamer\nshould sail to Karachi without unnecessary delay, he asked the captain\nto expedite its departure, and the latter, who had previous experience\nof the local post office, said that he had his doubts about receiving\nthe mails before morning, but promised to try his best, and went ashore\nhimself. Two hours later a message came to the ship asking for the\nPolitical Resident's personal assistance, and there was nothing left\nfor the distinguished official to do but to go to the office himself.\nHe found the captain and his second officer pelting the roof of the\npost office with stones, while from inside issued forth the vilest\nabuse of all ships' captains and their relations, with threats to\nreport the attack to the Resident. The matter was eventually settled,\nand the story is still told by all the natives with great gusto, as the\nEastern mind sees a special humour in the setting down of an important\nofficial.\nThe Euphrates and Tigris Steam Navigation Company, owned by Messrs.\nLynch Brothers, during the many years of its existence was never able\nto obtain permission from the Ottoman Government to run more than\ntwo steamers between Basra and Bagdad. The distance is five hundred\nmiles, and, as the paddle-boats had occasionally to tie up during the\nnight when the river was low, it is not surprising that the weekly\nmail service each way had no reputation for regularity. There were\nseveral other causes which contributed to misconnection between these\nboats and the ocean-going mail steamers of the British India Company.\nThe run from Basra to Bagdad and vice versa was usually accomplished\nin five days, which left only two days at either end for loading and\nunloading, cleaning and repairs of engines and other duties. If a\nsteamer reached port towards the end of the week, little or no work\ncould be done. Friday is a general holiday among the Turks and Arabs\nwho are Mohammedans, and the Customs House is kept closed; Saturday\nis the Hebrew Sabbath, when Jews are absent from the wharves; while\nSunday is a _dies non_ with the Armenian Christians, who are among the\nmost important of the shippers. It was hard for an European merchant to\ncontend with such an accumulation of sacred days. He was willing to\nkeep open and work on every day of the week, but the susceptibilities\nof the local population cannot be overridden. The Turkish Government\ntried every conceivable method of hindering the enterprise of Messrs.\nLynch and Company, but their steamers continued to flourish and gain in\npopularity, whereas the Ottoman line of steamers, established in 1867\nunder the auspices of the Government with the avowed object of smashing\nthe British line, failed to justify its existence. The Turkish steamers\nwere badly equipped and inefficiently controlled, and being always in\na state of dilapidation became a byword of reproach even among the\nTurkish subjects of Mesopotamia. It was not surprising, therefore, that\novertures on the part of this Company to obtain the English contract\nfor the carriage of mails were never seriously considered. Apart from\nthe unreliability of the service, there were strong political grounds\nfor supporting the Company which had done so much under the British\nflag to open up the commerce of Mesopotamia.\nOriginally the merchants at the intermediate river ports of Kurnah,\nKut and Amara, on the Tigris, were accustomed to post letters on the\nriver mail boats and the clerk on board acted as a sort of travelling\npostmaster, but it was not long before the Turkish authorities raised\nobjections to this practice as an infringement of their postal rights,\nnotwithstanding that they had a concession of free carriage of\nTurkish official correspondence through the British Post. After much\ncorrespondence and discussion between the Indian Political and Postal\nauthorities it was decided not to allow the mail steamer to be used\nas a post office. Consequently all letters posted on board were made\nover to the Ottoman post offices, and this procedure was also followed\nin respect of local postings in the British post offices at Basra and\nBagdad for all places in Turkish Arabia.\nThe purely Consular status of the Post Office in the Persian Gulf\nregion was shown by the fact that our mail bags for Bagdad were\nalways labelled \"H.M.'s Consul-General, Bagdad,\" and those for Basra\ndirected to \"H.M.'s Consul,\" special seals with the Royal Arms being\nused. The British Indian postmasters at these places held no written\ncommunication with Turkish officials, and the rule was that all such\ncorrespondence should pass through the Consul or Consul-General.\nService privileged correspondence between Turkish Government\ndepartments, if properly franked, was allowed to pass free of postage\nthrough our post offices at Bagdad and Basra, and registered letters\nor packets suspected to contain precious stones, jewellery and other\nvaluables liable to duty were transferred to the local Customs House.\nThe Indian Post Office in Mesopotamia and the Persian Gulf was not\nonly the handmaiden of British commercial enterprise for many years,\nbut also helped in an unostentatious way to consolidate our position\nand influence in those regions. Over thirty years ago a Persian Gulf\ndivision was formed under the control of an European Superintendent\nwho had to supervise and visit the offices regularly. The postmasters\nare either Indian Christians, Mohammedans or Hindus, and they are\ninvested by the backward and unenlightened inhabitants of the remote\nGulf ports with mysterious powers as the representatives of the great\nIndian Government. Wild-looking Central Asian traders armed with dagger\nand pistol, who bring down camel-loads of carpets, dried fruit and\nother merchandise from the interior of Persia and the Mekran; courtly\nand picturesque Arab horse-dealers who ship their thoroughbreds to\nBombay every year; sleek Persians in their sky-blue tunics; emancipated\nnegro slaves--all trust the postmaster in matters relating to their\nprivate business as they would never trust one of their own kind. The\narrival of the weekly mail at a Persian Gulf port is like a festival.\nThe precincts of the post office are thronged with a large and motley\ncrowd drawn from all grades of the populace. Letters are delivered on\nthe premises on this day, and everyone who has any link with the outer\nworld is present on the off-chance of getting a communication through\nthe post. The postmaster or his munshi stands at an open window calling\nout the addresses on the letters, the owners holding up their hands\nwhen they hear their names called. Most letters are prefixed with the\nword \"Haji,\" which denotes that the recipients are good Mohammedans\nwho have made the pilgrimage to the Prophet's tomb at Mecca. The deep,\nguttural Arabic or the soft Persian response is occasionally broken\nby a reply in the more familiar Hindustani or Gujrati, for in each\nGulf port there is a small colony of Hindu traders from the West coast\nof India, easily distinguishable by their alert and business-like\nappearance. Women are conspicuous by their absence--more so, in fact,\nthan in other Eastern countries--but, after the crowd has dispersed, a\nclosely veiled and sheeted figure occasionally glides to the window and\nin plaintive tones asks for some service, the performance of which she\nmust personally see to in the absence of her lord and master from home.\nThe Great War completely altered the conditions in Mesopotamia. In\nconsequence of the Turkish Government having ordered the closure of all\nforeign post offices within their territory, the Indian post offices\nat Bagdad and Basra were closed under protest on the 1st October, 1914.\nThe sub-postmaster, Basra, continued at work settling the affairs of\nhis office until the 27th October, 1914, and left for India next day,\nwhereas the Postmaster, Bagdad, was made a prisoner on the outbreak of\nhostilities with Turkey on the 1st November, 1914, and the post office\nproperty in his charge fell into the hands of the Turks.\nThe formal entry into Basra by British troops was made on the 23rd\nNovember, 1914, and the postal service was undertaken by the Indian\nField Post Office. The service was developed and extended as the troops\nadvanced. A railway was constructed from Basra to Amara and from\nKut-el-Amara to Bagdad, and a regular mail service has been introduced\nby river steamers between Amara and Kut-el-Amara. The transit time\nof mails between Basra and Bagdad has thus been reduced to two days.\nExcellent jetties have now been built at Basra, so that much time is\nsaved in loading and unloading mails, and, with well-equipped post\noffices at all important places, the postal service of Mesopotamia has\nbecome quite efficient.\nSince the Armistice in 1918 the Indian Field Post Offices have been\ngradually withdrawn and have been replaced by civil offices under\na Civil Director of Postal Services. The occupied territory in\nMesopotamia is known as Iraq, and Turkish postage stamps overprinted\nwith the words \"Iraq under British Occupation\" were introduced in 1918.\nOn the 1st May, 1919, the Military Director of Postal Services was\nwithdrawn and the postal administration of the country handed over to\nthe Civil Director, who is now an official of the Local Government.\nA few Indian field post offices are still retained for the troops\nstationed beyond the frontiers of Iraq, but these will be closed as\nsoon as military operations are finished.\nThe first Civil Director of the Post Office of Iraq was Mr. C. J. E.\nClerici, an officer of the Indian Establishment. Almost the whole staff\nconsists of men from the Post Office of India, and will continue to\ndo so until local men have been trained in postal work. Indian inland\npostage rates were at first charged for correspondence exchanged\nbetween India and Iraq, but from the 1st September, 1919, the British\nImperial foreign rates of postage were introduced. With the exception\nof four post offices on the Persian Gulf--namely, Koweit, Abadan,\nMohammerah and Ahwaz, which are being administered by Iraq--the other\nIndian post offices in the Persian Gulf area are still under the\ncontrol of the Post Office of India.\nSuch is the history of the establishment of the Indian Post Office in\nMesopotamia and the Persian Gulf region. It began with the opening\nof small offices for the British Consular Agencies and commercial\nestablishments of the East India Company. The public, however,\nwere not slow to take advantage of the means of communication thus\nprovided, and, despite the strenuous opposition of the Ottoman Empire,\na really efficient postal system was organized. The extension of\nthe Bagdad Railway, the Euphrates Valley irrigation project and the\nopening of the Anglo-Persian oil field, whose pipe-line terminates\non the Shat-el-Arab, are the three great factors in the development\nof Mesopotamia. This country already occupies a prominent place in\nthe affairs of the Empire, and, situated, as it is, on a main highway\nbetween East and West, it is possible that the region, which was the\ncentre and cradle of the earliest civilization of the world, will\nrecover its old importance. When this has been achieved the Post Office\nof India will always be able to look back with pride on the pioneer\nwork which it has done in its quiet, unassuming way during the past\nhalf century.\nCHAPTER XVI\nTHE POST OFFICE DURING THE INDIAN MUTINY\nEvery student of the history of the Indian Mutiny of 1857 knows the\npart played by the Indian Telegraph Department during that great\ncrisis. The famous telegram of warning which was transmitted to the\nprincipal stations in the Punjab by two young signallers of the Delhi\noffice (Messrs. Brendish and Pilkington) upon their own initiative on\nthe morning of the 11th May, 1857, when the Meerut rebels, flushed with\nsuccess, crossed the bridge of boats over the Jumna and entered the\ncity of Delhi to join hands with their comrades there, is a splendid\nexample of an assumption of responsibility followed by prompt action.\nSir Herbert Edwardes refers to the final telegraphic message sent by\nBrendish to Mr. Montgomery, the Judicial Commissioner at Lahore, in\nthese terms:\n\"When the mutineers came over from Meerut and were cutting the throats\nof the Europeans in every part of the Cantonment, a boy, employed in\nthe telegraph office at Delhi, had the presence of mind to send off\na message to Lahore to Mr. Montgomery, the Judicial Commissioner, to\ntell him that the mutineers had arrived and had killed this civilian\nand that officer, and wound up his message with the significant words\n'we're off.' That was the end of the message. Just look at the courage\nand sense of duty which made that little boy, with shots and cannon all\nround him, manipulate that message, which, I do not hesitate to say,\nwas the means of the salvation of the Punjab.\"\nIn the General Report of the Telegraph Department for the year 1857-58\nthe Director-General remarked:\n \"The value of that last service of the Delhi office is best described\n in the words of Montgomery: 'The electric telegraph has saved India.'\"\nExcellent work was also done by Post Office officials during the Indian\nMutiny, but unfortunately it is forgotten owing to its having received\nlittle historical recognition. A perusal of musty records which lie in\nthe archives of the Indian Government reveals a record of duties well\nperformed in the midst of insuperable difficulties and dangers of which\nthe Department may well be proud.\nAt the time of the Mutiny the British Army in India was deficient\nin the organization of two branches indispensable to the success\nof military operations in the field, and it was left to the Post\nOffice to supply the want to a considerable extent. The Intelligence\nand Transport Departments were in their infancy, and the military\nauthorities were not slow to take advantage of facilities afforded by\nthe Post Office. At the commencement of the outbreak it was evident\nthat postmasters in the affected districts were in a position to keep\nthe authorities accurately informed of the direction in which the\nrebellion was spreading and to report the movements of the mutineers as\nlong as the postal lines of communication remained intact, especially\nin the districts where there were no telegraph lines or where the wires\nhad been cut. Many officials--European, Eurasian and Indian--were\nkilled at the outset, post offices being looted and destroyed and mails\nintercepted on the various lines wherever the rebels were in power.\nMuch valuable information regarding such occurrences was collected and\npassed on to the authorities by postal employ\u00e9s in remote places. For\ntransport, the Army had ready at hand, on the trunk roads of India, the\nmachinery of the Post Office horse transit and bullock train, which was\nthen in a high state of efficiency, and was able to render incalculable\nservice in connection with the forward movement of troops and munitions\nof war as well as the despatch down country of wounded officers and\nmen--and of refugees when the campaign was well advanced. After the\nfinal Relief of Lucknow by Sir Colin Campbell many of the ladies and\nchildren of the garrison were conveyed by this means in safety to\nCalcutta.\n[Illustration: GROUP OF SENIOR OFFICERS IN 1907\n  P. ROGERS    H. A. SAMS   C. H. HARRISON    C. H. HOGG   E. R. JARDINE\n    G. R. CLARKE\n  E. A. DORAN  H. N. HUTCHINSON     C. STEWART WILSON     H. C. SHERIDAN\n    W. MAXWELL\nThe Sepoy Mutiny began at Meerut on the 10th May, 1857. From the\n18th May, 1857, onwards telegrams and letters were received at the\nDirector-General's headquarters in Calcutta from the postmasters at\nAllahabad, Benares, Umballa and other stations, reporting the stoppage\nof mail communication with places which had fallen into the hands of\nthe mutineers. News was also thus given of the destruction of post\noffices and plunder of mails at Sitapore, Indore, Hirapore, Cawnpore,\nShahazadpore, Daryabad, Saugor, Segombe, Hamirpur, Jaunpor, Azimgarh\nand many more places. On the 15th May, 1857, the Postmaster-General,\nNorth-Western Provinces, gave instructions to his postmasters to\ncollect waggons and bullocks for the conveyance of troops. On the\n21st May the Postmaster, Agra, reported to the Director-General\nthat Dr. Clark, who had been specially vested with the authority of\nPostmaster-General in a portion of the North-Western Provinces, was\nsafe and well at Muttra, and was trying to open mail communication.\nOn the 26th May, 1857, the Postmaster, Benares, applied to the\nDirector-General for authority to supply horses for conveyance of\ntroops. Mr. H. B. Riddell, Director-General at the time, was fully\nalive to the situation and set a brilliant example to all ranks. He\naddressed the following letter to the Government of India from his camp\nat Sherghotty on the 30th May, 1857:--\n  \"I have the honour to report that arrangements have been made or are\n  in train which will, I trust, enable the Bullock Train establishment\n  to convey daily without interruption one hundred men from Raneegunge\n  to Benares. There will be fifty-six pairs of Bullocks at each stage\n  between Sherghotty and Benares.\n  \"The Bullocks procurable are of the smallest and most miserable\n  description.... A workshop will be established at Dehree and, as the\n  road over the sand of the Soane will be broken up in a day or two, the\n  men of each detachment will be conveyed over in country carts, fresh\n  waggons being ready on the other side. I shall probably have to stay\n  to-morrow and make some arrangements at the Soane, but will, after\n  doing so, move on to Benares and arrange for the despatch of troops\n  from Benares to Allahabad. If the Commissariat bullocks are stationed\n  along the line and they have any covered carts, large detachments can\n  be sent every two or three days, but I will telegraph what can be done\n  when I reach Benares. In the meantime Commissariat Gun bullocks should\n  be stationed along the line.\"\nThe Director-General's efforts were ably seconded by Mr. C. K. Dove,\nPostmaster-General, and Mr. Garrett, Deputy Postmaster-General of\nBengal, both of whom did all in their power to ensure the prompt\ndespatch of troops up country, calling in the aid of the local\nmagistrates to secure the best cattle and the services of the\nEngineering Department to facilitate the passage of carts over\nunbridged rivers along the Grand Trunk Road.\nOn the 2nd July, 1857, it was arranged to place the whole of the\nBullock Train establishment north of Benares at the disposal of the\nmilitary authorities. The transfer was made at the instance of General\nHavelock, who had just assumed command of the troops at Allahabad.\nHe decided to use the Bullock Train entirely for the transport of\nstores and ammunition to the front and, when the rains had broken and\nthe rivers became navigable, to convey troops by river steamers, a\nfar more convenient and expeditious means than road conveyance. When\nit was necessary to use the roads, elephants were provided by the\nCommissary-General at Calcutta and by local zemindars (landholders).\nOn the 29th July, 1857, the Government of India published a\nnotification authorizing the Chief Covenanted Civil or Military officer\nat every station throughout India where there was a post office under\na Deputy Postmaster and no resident Postmaster had been specially\nappointed, to assume the office of Postmaster or to assign the office\nto some other Covenanted Civil or Military Officer at the station,\nreporting the arrangement in each instance for the information of\nthe Postmaster-General of the Presidency. The Deputy Postmaster was\nto perform duties connected with the post office under the orders of\nthe Postmaster so appointed. The functions of Inspecting Postmasters\nremained unaffected by this order, and post offices at places where\nthere was no covenanted Civil or Military Officer were left in charge\nof the Deputy Postmasters. These orders were necessitated by the\ninterruption of mail communication between many post offices and\ntheir head-quarters and the difficulty of control being exercised\nby Postmasters-General who were not always in a position to issue\nprompt instructions to their subordinates in matters of importance\nor emergency. At the same time no general power of censorship over\ncorrespondence was granted to officers, nor was anything done to\ndiminish public confidence in the Government mail service.\nReports regarding the plunder of mails continued to come in from\nplaces as far removed as Kolhapur in the Southern Mahratta country and\nBahraich in the United Provinces. Mails between Bengal and the United\nProvinces on one side and the Punjab on the other had to be diverted\nvia Bombay, the Commissioner of Sind taking the responsibility for\ntheir safe despatch through Hyderabad (Sind). Many of the reports from\npostmasters referred to fresh outbreaks, and the movements of mutineers\nwho did not hesitate to remove dak horses from relay stations on the\nmail routes whenever they had the chance. The information contained in\nthese letters was duly passed on to the military authorities.\nIn connection with the correspondence for the army in the field, post\noffices were organized to accompany the movable columns under General\nHavelock, the Malwa Field Force and later the divisions commanded by\nGeneral Outram and other distinguished leaders. During the campaign\nsoldiers' letters were exempt from forward postage.\nThe large tract of country known as the North-Western Provinces and\nOudh was the focus of the disturbance of 1857, and the strain put upon\nthe postal officials in those provinces was greater than in other\naffected parts of the country. Most of the post offices and mail lines\nhad to be closed at the beginning of the outbreak and were reopened one\nby one, as order was gradually restored by the British forces. A most\ninteresting narrative of the interruption in the mail arrangements in\nthe North-Western Provinces and Punjab subsequent to the outbreak at\nMeerut and Delhi on the 10th and 11th May, 1857, was supplied by Mr.\nPaton, Postmaster-General, and will be found in Appendix G.\nAs might be expected, the outbreak of the Mutiny caused a complete\ndisorganization of postal communications, and the task of restoring\nmail lines in hostile territory was no easy one. The pay offered by\nthe Department was not sufficient to induce men to risk their lives in\nisolated places, which were always open to attacks by the mutineers or\nby bands of armed villagers, and it is characteristic of the Indian\nGovernment at the time that they expected men to serve for salaries\nwhich were admitted to be inadequate even in times of peace. I will\nquote extracts from the reports of the Postmasters-General of the\nNorth-Western Provinces, Bengal and Bombay, which throw an interesting\nlight upon the difficulties with which the Post Office had to contend\nin these troublous times.\nReport of the Postmaster-General, North-Western Provinces, for the year\nending the 31st March, 1858:\n  \"In consequence of the rebellion, the Post Offices and lines of postal\n  communication in the North-Western Provinces and Oudh were closed\n  more or less, nearly throughout the year under review, and many of\n  those in Oude and Bundelkund have not yet been reopened, owing to\n  a portion of the above Provinces being still in the hands of the\n  rebels, so that a report of the transactions of the present year is\n  chiefly a narrative of the effects of the disturbances on the Post\n  Office Department, The results shown herein cannot therefore be fairly\n  compared with those of the previous years.\n  \"The number of complaints of the loss and missending of letters\n  during the year under review is comparatively greater than many of\n  the previous years, which is chiefly owing to the frequent loss of\n  the mails on different lines of road by rebels, their transmission by\n  circuitous routes from the direct lines being closed or unsafe, and\n  their irregular despatch by inexperienced hands employed in the Camp\n  Post Offices.\n  \"The proportion of bearing to paid or stamped letters is 0.974 to\n  1, which shows a progressive increase in the number of the former.\n  This may be fairly attributed to the general habit of the natives,\n  especially those in the army, and also among lower classes to despatch\n  their letters bearing, more particularly at this period, when, from\n  the constant movements of the troops from one place to another and\n  the disturbed state of the country, they are undoubtedly liable to\n  miscarry.\n  \"I may also observe that a very large number of letters posted by the\n  military and lower classes of the people are intended for places in\n  the interior of districts, and, as the District Post establishments\n  have not yet been fully reorganized, there is no guarantee for their\n  punctual or safe delivery. Natives, being real economists, naturally\n  prefer the despatch of their letters bearing, and so prevent any loss\n  from prepayment of postage.\n  \"The staff of the Department was much reduced by casualties during\n  the late mutinies, and much difficulty has been experienced in\n  procuring properly qualified persons to accept employment. A large\n  number of offices having had to be hastily reopened, the demand for\n  English-speaking clerks has been unprecedented, and, without raising\n  the salaries, I could not fill up the vacancies in the Post Office.\n  \"It is not a matter of surprise that extraordinary difficulty has\n  been experienced in reorganizing the Post Office in such a crisis,\n  when it is recollected that the salaries allowed to the officers\n  of the Department are on a scale below that generally obtained in\n  other Departments, that there are no holidays allowed them, and\n  that leave of absence, excepting on medical certificate, is in a\n  measure prohibited, owing to the establishment being generally on\n  such a minimum scale as not to admit of any one being absent without\n  providing a trained substitute.\n  \"But notwithstanding an increase to the salaries of the officials\n  having been generally granted to the extent that I have represented\n  as necessary, I regret to have to record that I have not yet been\n  able to complete the revision of all the office establishments to\n  my satisfaction. There are still many incompetent officials in the\n  Department, whom I am obliged to tolerate, until I meet with better\n  qualified persons to take their places.\n  \"As might be expected from an inexperienced or untrained\n  establishment, working under great disadvantages, a comparatively\n  large number of complaints of the missending and loss of letters have\n  been received during the year under review, and, though every care\n  has been taken to prevent mistakes, yet, from the circumstance of\n  the direction on letters being often hastily and illegibly written,\n  and the army, in numerous detached parties, constantly in the field,\n  without their locality or destination being correctly known to the\n  Post Office, the percentage of missent covers for the troops has\n  unavoidably been great.\n  \"I have again to remark the increase in the number of bearing letters;\n  but considering the unsettled state of these Provinces, it is only\n  what might be expected. I need not here repeat the reasons which\n  induce the non-commercial class of natives to send their letters\n  bearing postage.\n  \"Taking into consideration the variety of languages in which native\n  letters are generally written, and the very careless and illegible\n  manner in which the directions and the names of addressees and senders\n  are given, I am of opinion that the proportion disposed of at my\n  office (being about 33 per cent on the whole number received) is\n  satisfactory.\"\nReport of the Postmaster-General, Bengal, for the year 1857-58:\n  \"The mutinies which broke out in the North-Western Provinces in May,\n  1857, were also felt during the past year in the Bengal Presidency,\n  and parts of the province were more or less affected by them, but,\n  happily for Bengal, the interruptions and disorganization to her\n  Postal Department caused by them were, by the adoption of prompt and\n  vigorous measures, speedily restored. The Post Office Department,\n  however, did not escape--a Deputy Postmaster and an Overseer were\n  killed, a runner was wounded, a number of post offices, especially in\n  Behar, were plundered, and a number of mails and mail packets were\n  seized and destroyed by the mutinous sepoys.\n  \"The rebellion of Koer Sing and the mutinies of the Dinapore sepoys\n  interrupted and closed for a short time a portion of the Grand Trunk\n  Road between Saseram and Benares, and the insurgents carried off some\n  cattle belonging to the Department, and also burnt down some dak\n  bungalows above Sherghotty.\n  \"The revolt of the hill tribes on the southern line in the\n  neighbourhood of Sumbulpore disturbed the communication with Bombay\n  via Sumbulpore, which had been opened after the interruption of\n  communication with Bombay by the Jubbulpore road, and the rebellion\n  of the Ramghur Battalion disorganized the daks for a while in the\n  South-West Frontier Agency between Chota Nagpore and Chyebassa.\n  \"The mutinies of the Chittagong sepoys and the Segowlee insurgents\n  caused only the destruction of some packets that fell into their\n  hands, but passed off without any serious interruption to any mail\n  line in Bengal.\"\nReport of the Postmaster-General, Bombay, for the year 1857-58:\n  \"The mutinies imperilled and interrupted almost every line in the\n  Presidency; the foot lines were obliged to be strengthened, diverted,\n  abandoned and reopened as circumstances required; those most severely\n  tried were in Malwa, Rajpootana, Khandeish, Berar, the Southern\n  Mahratta country and Guzerat, on some of which double pay and double\n  numbers were scarcely sufficient to keep them open, and it was only by\n  the activity, local knowledge, morale and reliance of the inspecting\n  officers (always supported strongly by the Civil officers), whose\n  powers were discretionally enlarged by me, that the lines were\n  sustained.\n  \"It is remarkable that in the midst of universal disturbance\n  (especially in Malwa and Rajpootana), when distrust and confusion were\n  at their height, and opportunities for plunder were frequent, and\n  detection next to impossible, only one case occurred, or rather was\n  brought home, in which the carriers of the mails either personally\n  plundered or wilfully destroyed them.\n  \"Although animosity was directed against the servants of the Post\n  Office in common with every class of persons in Government employ,\n  it was not especially so in this Presidency against the Post Office,\n  unless where the collections offered temptation, as at Indore,\n  Erinpoora, Neemuch and Mundessore, which offices were assailed and\n  gutted.\n  \"The knowledge that other lines of post either existed or would\n  assuredly be established, and that no efforts would be left unemployed\n  to effect free postal intercourse whenever required, possibly\n  pointed to the futility of a general crusade against post runners.\n  Nevertheless, both as a precaution against disappointment and as\n  removing a source of temptation, banghy parcels were discontinued for\n  four months, from July until November.\n  \"The only lines which have been permanently closed are four branch\n  lines in Malwa.\n  \"That no coercion was used, and that the post was kept open (it is\n  true by circuitous routes, but still open) all through this postal\n  range, is strong evidence that the feeling of the country was not\n  unfavourable to British authority; it was found that whenever a road\n  was impracticable, it was rendered so only from fear of the acts of\n  rebels, upon whose departure or overthrow the post line was again\n  opened.\n  \"Exempt as the post carriers have been from concurrence in the\n  general insurrection, the conduct of the other descriptions of\n  postal servants has been not less good, with the exception of those\n  attached to the Indore post office. There the temptation of plunder\n  excited an overseer and peon, and the people of the workshop, to\n  join in plundering the post office and premises, and one kitmutgar\n  (table servant), a Mussulman at Samwere, near Oojein, hounded on some\n  miscreants to murder an European serjeant from Mahidpore, who took\n  refuge in it, for which he was subsequently hanged, and the others\n  transported.\n  \"In the higher grades, the conduct of the postal officers has been\n  very exemplary; no instance has occurred in which a postmaster either\n  deserted his post, or has been suspected of having made use of his\n  position to give information, to open letters, or to favour in any way\n  the rebel cause.\n  \"Ten travellers' bungalows and seven post offices have been burned\n  down, and ten evacuated, of which three only have remained closed.\n  This does not represent the extent of injury done, or loss occasioned,\n  the destruction of stamps, and in other ways by the carrying away of\n  mail carts, destruction of property, and loss in postage collection,\n  and compensation to people in postal employ for good behaviour, or for\n  personal suffering.\"\nThe success of the postal arrangements during the Mutiny is largely due\nto the organization and example of Mr. Riddell, the Director-General,\nwho attended to all important matters personally. He was assisted\nby the loyal devotion of the entire staff, and the men whose names\nmay be mentioned for special services are Mr. Dove, officiating\nPostmaster-General, Bengal; Mr. Bennett, Mr. Wallace and Mr. McGowan,\nof the Bengal establishment; Lala Salig Ram in the North-Western\nProvinces; Dr. Clark and Mr. H. A. Brown in Agra; Captain Fanshawe\nand Babu Eshan Chander Mookerjee in Aligarh; Mr. Taylor in the\nDeccan and Babu Sheo Pershad in Delhi. Where so many did well it\nseems invidious to mention only a few names, and the President in\nCouncil, when thanking the Director-General for the work done by the\nPost Office during the crisis, expressed the high opinion which the\nGovernment entertained of the services rendered by all the officers of\nthe Department, European and Indian, in circumstances of the greatest\ndifficulty.\nEnough has been written to show the nature of the help given to the\nIndian Empire by the staff of the Post Office during the Mutiny. It is\na record of loyalty and devotion to duty of which the Department may\nwell be proud.\nCHAPTER XVII\nTHE INDIAN FIELD POST OFFICE\nIn a country where there is seldom perfect peace it is only natural\nthat the Post Office must accustom itself to war conditions, and the\nField Postal Service has been a feature of the Indian Post Office for\nmore than sixty years. During that period there have been over forty\nwars and expeditions, extending from Burma to the Mediterranean, and,\nas postal arrangements were required for the forces engaged, the Field\nPost Office system in India has been gradually developed and perfected,\nand is now recognized as an important part of the military organization\nof the country.\nField Post Office arrangements used to be in the hands of the\nPostmaster-General of the Punjab, and he maintained lists of men\nwilling to serve. In 1918, however, owing to the wide distribution of\nthe postal staff in various parts of the world, it was found necessary\nto bring the Field Post organization under the immediate control of\nthe Director-General. When an expedition is announced, the forces of\nthe Post Office are immediately mobilized according to the strength of\nthe field army, and, as the staff required for a brigade and division\nhas been settled by long experience, no time is lost in getting the\nnecessary number of men to the assembling stations.\nThe regulations for the working of Field Post Offices are laid down\nin the Indian Field Service Manual and the Postal Manual (War),\ntwo handbooks issued by the Indian Army Department; and a complete\nequipment of tents and furniture, sufficient for three base post\noffices, fifty first-class and twenty second-class field offices,\nand for the use of the supervisory staff, is kept at Lahore ready\nfor immediate despatch. When the Department has to make its own\narrangements for the carriage of mails between the base post office and\nthe field offices, overseers are employed to supervise the transit. The\nestablishment laid down for a base office is one postmaster, two deputy\nor assistant postmasters, fifteen clerks and ten menials, but these\nnumbers must necessarily vary with the number of field offices required\nwith the different units.\nPostal officials in the field are subject to full military discipline\nunder the Army Act. Superior officers wear field service khaki uniform\nwith badges of rank and the letters \"Post\" in brass on the shoulders.\nA Deputy Postmaster-General or Assistant Director-General of the\nPost Office ranks as a Lieutenant-Colonel, and a Superintendent as\nMajor, Captain or Lieutenant, according to his grade and length of\nservice. Subordinate officials, if Europeans, are classed as Assistant\nCommissaries, Sub-Conductors or Sergeants, according to their pay, and\nIndians are given rank as Subadars, Jemadars, Havildars or Naiks. Field\nallowances, in addition to pay, are fixed according to a sanctioned\nscale, the rate for a Director or Superintendent being 25 per cent\nof his pay, subject to a minimum monthly allowance of Rs.100 in the\ncase of the latter. Inspectors and Postmasters draw Rs.90 a month in\naddition to pay, other subordinates being remunerated at a lower rate.\nIn virtue of the military rank held by them, officers and subordinates\nare entitled to all privileges and advantages for service in the field,\nsuch as wound pensions, family pensions, medals and compensation for\nloss of baggage.\nThe officer in charge of field post offices is attached to the\nhead-quarters of an Expeditionary Force as adviser to the Military\nAuthorities on all postal matters; he is required to visit the base and\nfield post offices as frequently as possible, and is responsible for\nthe proper working and efficiency of mail arrangements. He arranges\nwith headquarters for carriage of mails between the base and the\nfield, fixes the hours of despatch of mails from all post offices\nand the hours during which money orders are issued, and also settles\nthe question of making over cash collections to the nearest Field\nPaymaster, Treasure Chest Officer, Regimental Accounts Officer or Post\nCommandant, as the case may be.\nThe development of the Field Postal System has been gradual and has\nundergone many changes. The earliest record of a regular Indian Post\nOffice staff proceeding for active service with a military force is\nin connection with the Persian Expedition of 1856. The establishment\nconsisted of two clerks, an interpreter (moonshee) and four peons,\nand, as no suitable departmental officer could be found to take charge\nof the arrangements, the Government of Bombay appointed the Military\nPaymaster of the Persian Expeditionary Force to take control.\nThe work accomplished by the Post Office during the Indian Mutiny has\nbeen described in a separate chapter. Every office situated within the\nwide area of the disturbances or on the line of march of the troops\nperformed the functions of a field post office, the control of the\narrangements devolving on the chief local civil or military authority\nin places where there was no departmental officer of sufficient\nseniority or rank to hold charge. The great services rendered by the\nPost Office horse transit and bullock train establishments to the\nArmy were a prominent feature of the campaign. Separate field post\noffices accompanied the moving columns under Generals Havelock, Outram,\nCampbell, Hugh Rose, Hope Grant and other leaders. Twenty years later,\nwhen the Afghan war broke out, the Army had again to rely on the Post\nOffice for the transport of mails and military stores for hundreds of\nmiles through the Khyber and Bolan passes into Afghanistan.\nThe extension of the railways to the frontiers of India has put an\nend to this branch of postal enterprise. Mail tonga lines worked by\ncontractors still flourish on routes where there are no railways, but\nthey are being gradually supplanted by motor conveyances.\nA scheme under which the Post Office should maintain a large number\nof motor mail vans, which could be used in time of war for military\ntransport, has already been suggested, and it is one well worth\nconsideration. An arrangement of this kind should go far towards\nsolving the problem of maintaining transport in times of peace, and\nshould prove advantageous and economical to both the Army and the Post\nOffice.\nThe success of the Indian Field Post Office in the numerous wars and\nexpeditions in which it has been employed can be vouched for by the\nreports of commanding officers. Experience has been bought by long\npractice, and the Department never loses an opportunity of training its\nstaff for military service. At the great military manoeuvres which are\nfrequently held during the cold weather in India the troops engaged\nare always accompanied by field post offices fully equipped for war\nconditions, with the result that there is always a large body of men\nin the Post Office thoroughly trained in this kind of work. On field\nservice the postal official is \"Nobody's child.\" He has to fend for\nhimself, and, although transport is told off for the conveyance of camp\nequipment and mails, it is seldom forthcoming when required. The Army\nHead-quarters Staff looks after its own post office, but is inclined to\nregard the others as an encumbrance, and this attitude has developed a\nfaculty of \"slimness\" in the field postal officer, which he uses for\ndefeating military regulations. He has become an expert in stealing\ntransport; a mule, a cart, a few coolies, a motor lorry, even an idle\nrailway train, all serve his purpose as occasion rises, and his motto\nis \"Get there, if not by fair means, then somehow,\" and get there he\ngenerally does. He has an uncanny instinct for finding out the secret\ndestination of his brigade and is often on the ground, sorting the\nmail, before the troops arrive.\nMr. Charles Sheridan, a very well-known member of the Department,\nused to tell an amusing story of the horror of a senior staff officer\nmeeting him one day on a frontier road pronounced absolutely unfit for\nwheeled traffic. Mr. Sheridan was driving along merrily with the mails\nin a two-horsed tonga; it was the shortest road and he took it, and the\nstaff had to reconsider seriously their strategic plans, simply because\nthe Superintendent of the Postal Service would not act according to\nmilitary instructions.\nThe heart of the field postal system in any campaign is the Base\nOffice. It is there that all information concerning the movements of\nregiments and units is carefully recorded. Lists of officers are kept\nin alphabetical order, and these lists are kept corrected from day to\nday on information received from the various field offices. The Base\nOffice controls the main routes of mails to the divisional and brigade\noffices, it issues instructions and is ready to supply reliefs. It\nsearches for missing men, disposes of undeliverable correspondence and\nhas a hospital for repairing articles damaged in transit; in fact, the\nsmooth running of the whole organization depends on the work done at\nthe Base.\nThe arrangements for conveying the mails between the base office and\nthe field offices devolves on the supervising officers, and endless\ndifficulties have to be faced in order to obtain transport. A great\ndeal depends on the personality of the postal officer in charge. If\nhe is a pleasant fellow and popular with the transport staff he can\nget most things done, but, if he is insistent on his rights and has\nnot learnt the meaning of \"give and take\" on a campaign, he will get\nnothing but excuses and regrets, the mail bags will be left behind in\nthe last camp, irate Colonels will write to their personal friend the\nDirector-General and the promising career of a conscientious public\nservant will be seriously injured.\nIn Appendix H is given a list of the most important expeditions in\nwhich field post offices have been employed, with a brief account\nof the arrangements made on each occasion. Most of these were small\nfrontier wars and little difficulty was felt in providing the\npersonnel. The Great War, however, was a very different matter. It\nnecessitated the despatch of large numbers of post offices all over\nthe world, and the demand on the resources of the Post Office of India\nwas on such a vast scale that an account of it has been reserved for a\nseparate chapter.\nCHAPTER XVIII\nTHE INDIAN FIELD POST OFFICE DURING THE GREAT WAR\nIn 1914, when war broke out, a large postal contingent accompanied the\ntroops sent to France. It was under the control of Mr. Pilkington,\nAssistant Director-General of the Post Office, who had the rank of\nLieutenant-Colonel, and it comprised one Base Office and 22 field\noffices, with a staff of 13 supervising officers, 22 field postmasters,\n84 clerks and 78 menials. During the early years of the war the work\nperformed by this staff was very heavy. Frequently over 23,000 letters\nand 2000 parcels would arrive for the Indian contingent in one day,\nwhile newspapers published in England were regularly received for\ndelivery to the troops. At the end of 1916 the Indian field postal\nstaff in France was considerably reduced, as large numbers accompanied\nthe Indian troops transferred to Egypt and Mesopotamia, and at the end\nof the war only one or two field offices remained to serve some Labour\nCorps units which had been left behind.\nAt the end of 1916 Mesopotamia was the most important theatre of\nwar so far as the Indian Post Office was concerned. A small field\npostal contingent was sent in 1914 and was steadily increased as the\noperations extended. Mr. A. B. Thompson, Deputy Postmaster-General,\nwas the first Director of Postal Services. He was succeeded in 1917\nby Mr. A. J. Hughes, who had been Deputy Director in Egypt. By the\nend of 1917 the army was so large and the work of the Post Office\nso extensive that it was decided to place an officer of the rank of\nPostmaster-General in charge, and Mr. H. A. Sams, Postmaster-General,\nCentral Circle, was selected to be Director of Postal Services in\nMesopotamia. By 1918 the staff consisted of 17 superintendents,\n45 inspectors, 2 base postmasters, 7 deputy postmasters, 79 field\npostmasters, 542 clerks and 797 menials. The Field Post Office in\nMesopotamia had not only military work, but also a great deal of civil\nwork. The magnitude of the business may be gauged by the following\nmonthly figures:--\n  Number of letters received and despatched     12,000,000\n  Number of parcels received and despatched         70,000\n  Number of money orders issued and paid            67,000\n  Value of money orders issued and paid       Rs.30,00,000\nLarge numbers of British postal orders were also sold and Savings Bank\nbusiness was freely transacted.\nDuring the year 1916 a great deal of difficulty was experienced in\nMesopotamia in dealing with returned letters, the addressees of which\ncould not be traced. To dispose of these a Returned Letter Office was\nestablished at Basra, for which a staff of 165 permanent base men was\nemployed. Subsequently, as these men were released or recalled to\nmilitary duty, their places were taken by Anglo-Indian boys recruited\nin India. The establishment of the Returned Letter Office put a stop\nto very many complaints regarding loss of letters. The office used to\ndeal with about 200,000 articles a month and worked very efficiently\nunder the supervision of the Base Postmaster, Basra.\nUpon the fall of Kut the field post office there shared the fate of the\ngarrison, and a number of postal officials were taken prisoners of war\nby the Turks.\nFrom the beginning of 1918 to the end of the war the postal service in\nMesopotamia was extremely good, and both in Basra and Bagdad a regular\nlocal post was established and deliveries by postmen were introduced.\nAt the end of 1918 a number of civil post offices were opened and\nsteps were taken to close down field post offices wherever possible.\nFrom the 1st May, 1919, the postal administration of Mesopotamia was\nfinally handed over to the civil authorities and almost all the field\npost offices were withdrawn, but a very large proportion of the Indian\nField staff remained in the country and took service under the new Iraq\nGovernment.\nNext in importance to Mesopotamia came the Indian postal services in\nEgypt, Palestine and Salonika, and in these places the Indian field\npost offices worked side by side with the British Army Postal Corps.\nIn 1915 they were under the control of Mr. A. J. Hughes as Deputy\nDirector, who was succeeded later by Mr. S. C. Sinclair. In 1915\nIndian field post offices were sent to Gallipoli, and the work done\nby them there won the warm appreciation of the military authorities.\nThe extension of operations to Palestine necessitated the despatch of\na number of field post offices to that country. In 1918 it was found\nnecessary to separate the postal contingent at Salonika from the\ncontrol of the Deputy Director in Egypt, and the force was placed in\ncharge of Mr. A. Gillespie as an independent Assistant Director, with\na staff of 1 base postmaster, 2 inspectors, 28 field postmasters and\nclerks and 36 menials. The Salonika postal service extended to Baku and\nConstantinople, where there were Indian field post offices.\nField post offices were sent to East Africa in 1914 under the\ncontrol of Mr. K. A. Appleby, who was subsequently made a Brevet\nLieutenant-Colonel. The organization consisted of a base office, 25\nfield post offices, with a staff of 4 superintendents, 6 inspectors, 1\nbase postmaster, 25 field postmasters, 76 clerks and 67 menials. About\na million letters and parcels were handled monthly by this staff, and\nwork had to be carried on under the most trying conditions, as many of\nthe mail lines traversed country covered with thick jungle. In 1917\nand 1918 the whole postal service of German East Africa was carried\non by the Indian Field Post Office, and the greatest credit is due to\nLieutenant-Colonel Appleby for the excellent arrangements made by him.\nIn 1918 Lieutenant Kilman was sent to take control of the field\npost offices attached to the East Persian Cordon between Meshed and\nDalbandin. The East Persian Cordon was subsequently known as the Force\nin East Persia, and the postal organization consisted of 1 Base post\noffice and 13 field post offices, with a staff of an Assistant Director\nof Posts and Telegraphs, 1 inspector, 1 base postmaster, 13 field\npostmasters, 31 clerks and 54 menials.\nA field post office contingent was also sent to Bushire in 1918 in\nconnection with the operations between Bushire and Shiraz. This was\nplaced under the control of Mr. C. F. Quilter as Assistant Director,\nwho was also given control of the postal arrangements of the British\nMission Escort in South Persia operating from Bunder-Abbas to Kerman\nand Shiraz. The British Mission Escort commenced its operations\nearly in 1916 and its postal arrangements were in charge of Captain\nGreene, R. E., Superintendent of post offices, prior to their being\ntaken over by Mr. Quilter. Up to March, 1919, the postal organization\nof the Bushire Force and British Mission Escort consisted of 2\nBase post offices and 18 field post offices, with a staff of an\nAssistant Director, a Deputy Assistant Director, 2 inspectors, 2 base\npostmasters, 18 field postmasters, 49 clerks and 86 menials. From\nApril, 1919, the Force was considerably reduced and a large portion of\nthe field postal staff was withdrawn.\nThe operations in the neighbourhood of Aden led to the establishment of\na few field post offices under the postmaster of Aden, who carried out\nthis work in addition to his own.\nThe total number of officials of the Indian field post offices serving\nwith the various Expeditionary Forces in 1918 was about two thousand,\nand with this large contingent serving abroad the Department in India\nhad to undertake the difficult task of equipping and despatching\nregular reinforcements to the several theatres of war. In order to deal\nwith the enormous quantity of Army mails, both originating in India and\nreceived from abroad, two special base offices were established, one\nat Bombay and one at Karachi. The Base Office in Bombay was converted\nin 1918 into a Base Postal Depot, and in addition to dealing with the\nmails for the troops it was also assigned the duty of recruitment\nand mobilization of postal reinforcements. The establishment of the\nBase Postal Depot in Bombay solved many of the difficulties which\nattended the organization of field post offices and the disposal of\nmails for armies in the field. The depot was divided into four main\nsections for Enquiry, Sorting, Mobilization and Correspondence. The\nchief duty of the Enquiry section was to ensure the correct delivery of\ncorrespondence for the troops that had returned or had been invalided\nfrom the field. This section was in charge of a lady Superintendent\nwith forty lady clerks, and their duty was to keep up to date a regular\nrecord giving the names, designations and addresses of officers and\nmen who had returned to India. The Enquiry section kept its records\nby means of index cards, of which there were over 133,000 when the\narmistice was declared. About 330,000 letters monthly were disposed of\nin this section.\nIn the Sorting section the average number of postal articles dealt\nwith in a month was about one million. The sorting of mails for all\nthe forces was done by units, separate bundles or packets being\nprepared for the officers and men with each unit. These mails were\nthen forwarded ready sorted to the base offices at the various fronts,\nwhere they were distributed to the field offices serving the units in\nquestion.\nThe Mobilization section dealt with all matters relating to the\nmobilization of the staff recruited in India for service overseas. Only\nmen who had volunteered for field service were taken, and on receiving\norders these men reported themselves to the Officer Commanding, Base\nPostal Depot, Bombay, who arranged for their kit, uniform and transport\nto the force for which they were detailed. The Correspondence section\ndealt with all complaints regarding postal articles for the field\nforces, and, by being in close connection with the Enquiry branch, it\nwas able to dispose of a large number of complaints without delay.\nThe Base Postal Depot, Bombay, was thus the most essential factor\nin the whole postal organization, and the smooth working of mail\narrangements for the Expeditionary Forces depended very largely upon\nits efficiency. The Depot was directly under the control of the\nDirector-General of Posts and Telegraphs and in charge of Captain Love,\na pensioned officer of the Department, who had retired as Presidency\nPostmaster, Bombay.\nTo reward the good work done by the Indian postal staff in the field,\nno less than fifty-two personal distinctions were granted and over\nthree hundred men were mentioned in despatches. The Department may\nwell be proud of its achievements during the war. Volunteers were\nalways ready to come forward for service in the worst places and many\nlost their lives. The best proof of their work, however, is the high\nreputation which the Post Office of India has earned among all branches\nof the Army.\nCHAPTER XIX\nINDIAN POSTAGE STAMPS\nThe first issue of postage stamps in India was made by Sir Bartle\nFrere in the Province of Scinde (now spelt Sind) in 1852. At that time\nthe post offices of Scinde were administered by the Local Government,\nand it was not until 1855 that they were placed under the control of\nthe Postmaster-General of Bombay. The Scinde District dawk stamps\nare very rare. There were three kinds: (1) the design embossed on\nwhite paper without colour; (2) blue embossed on white paper; (3)\nthe design embossed on vermilion wafers. The design is shown in the\naccompanying illustration (Fig. 1), and the central portion consists of\na modification of the broad arrow used by the East India Company. The\nissue was a comparatively small one, and the stamps were withdrawn from\nuse in September, 1854.\nThe early postal system of India was solely used for official purposes,\nand it was not until 1837 that a public post was established. Postage\nrates varied with distance, and the charge was levied in cash, the\nlowest rate being two annas for every hundred miles. For this purpose\ncopper tokens of the value of two annas were struck which were\navailable for the prepayment of postage.\nIn 1850 a Commission was appointed to inquire into the working of the\nPost Office, and among its recommendations were the formation of an\nImperial Post Office of India under a Director-General, the abolition\nof franking and the employment of stamps in prepayment of postage.\n[Illustration: EARLY STAMPS\n[Illustration: SHEET OF FOUR ANNA STAMPS, 1854. PRINTED IN CALCUTTA]\nThere was a great deal of discussion between the Indian Government\nand the Court of Directors in London as to where the stamps should be\nmanufactured; the former desired to procure them from England, but the\nlatter, on the ground of economy, decided that sufficiently good stamps\ncould be made in India. The first effort was a design of the \"Lion and\nPalm tree\" made by Colonel Forbes of the Calcutta Mint. This essay\n(Fig. 2), however, was never used, as the Mint could not promise a\nsufficient supply. Subsequently the manufacture of stamps was entrusted\nto the Survey Office, and after many failures Captain Thuillier, Deputy\nSurveyor-General, succeeded in producing nine hundred sheets of red\nhalf-anna stamps by means of lithography. These stamps are known as the\nred \u00bd anna stamps \"with 9\u00bd arches\" and were printed in sheets of one\nhundred and twenty, consisting of twelve rows of ten labels. They were\nsent to Bombay on the 5th April, 1854, but after despatch it was found\nthat the stock of vermilion was exhausted, and as the same quality of\nink could not be procured in India a new ink was prepared and at the\nsame time a fresh design was made. Owing to the fresh design, it was\ndecided not to issue the \"9\u00bd arches\" stamps. It is disappointing to\nthink that this first and historic set of Indian stamps was never used\npostally; but the omission does not seem to have detracted from their\nphilatelic value. Good specimens are very rare, and command a high\nprice in the market.\nThe design for the \u00bd anna stamp that was finally accepted was one of\neight arches, and it was printed in blue. There are three distinct\nshades of blue in the 1854 issues, varying from deep to pale. These\nstamps were prepared by engraving on copper plate and transferring to\nstones. The sheets consisted of twelve horizontal rows of eight stamps\non paper watermarked with the arms of the East India Company. The\nsheets, dated May and July, 1854, were evidently made up of blocks of\ntwenty-four stamps, repeated four times on each sheet. This is apparent\nfrom the fact that the fifth stamp in each of the third, sixth, ninth\nand twelfth rows is slightly out of alignment, and the sixth stamp in\neach of the first, fourth, seventh and ninth rows has had the chignon\nredrawn (Plate facing p. 180). The sheets are not perforated, and are\nwithout gum: 333,399 sheets were printed in 1854 and 48,831 in 1855.\nThe 1 anna stamp was printed in vermilion-red, and 26,897 sheets were\nready by August, 1854; there were further supplies of 54,961 sheets in\nNovember, 1854, and 15,834 sheets by November, 1855.\nThe colour selected for the 2 annas stamp was green, and the printing\nwas completed in October, 1854. There is no record of the number\nprinted.\nThe need for a 4 annas stamp was badly felt for postage to the United\nKingdom, which cost 1 rupee 4 annas an ounce in 1854. A design was\nprepared in two colours, blue and red, and the first sheets contained\nonly twelve stamps (Plate facing p. 178), and the first supply\nconsisted of 17,170 sheets delivered on 14th October, 1854; in all\n61,580 sheets were printed. In April, 1855, a new setting was adopted\nwith twenty-four stamps on a sheet, and two arrangements of this\nsetting were made, one with the stamps much closer together than the\nother.\n[Illustration: BLOCK SHOWING ONE THIRD OF A SHEET OF BLUE HALF ANNA\nSTAMPS OF 1854. PRINTED IN CALCUTTA]\nAll the stamps referred to above were prepared by Captain Thuillier,\nwho subsequently became General Sir Henry Thuillier, C.S.I.,\nSurveyor-General of India.\nIn November, 1855, stamps of the value of \u00bd, 1, 2, 4 and 8 annas were\nreceived from Messrs. De La Rue & Co. The designs were engraved on\nsteel and the stamps were printed on white wove unwatermarked paper\nwith white gum. The 4 and 8 annas are also found printed on a highly\nglazed thick bluish paper without watermark. These stamps supplanted\nthe old issues manufactured in India, but the stocks of the latter were\nnot finally called in and destroyed until 1858.\nIn 1860 8 pies[7] stamps were on sale in India. These were required for\nprepayment of soldiers' letters to the United Kingdom. Up to August,\n1855, British soldiers' correspondence was carried free of charge, but\nwhen this privilege was withdrawn they had the option of prepaying the\npostage in cash at 9 pies a tola (2/5 of an ounce) or else affixing a\nstamp for 8 pies. Up to 1864 certain changes were made in the colours\nof some of these stamps; the 2 annas green was altered to brown-pink\nearly in 1856, subsequently to buff, and then to yellow. At the end of\n1864 the colour of the 4 annas was changed from black to green, as the\nstamp had been forged.\nThe 8 annas and 4 annas stamps on bluish glazed paper, and the 4 annas,\n1 anna and 8 pies on white paper, have been found cut in halves upon\npostal articles in order to pay half their face value postage. All\ncovers found with these bisected stamps were posted in Singapore, which\nhad an Indian post office at the time.\nThe first issue of Indian postage stamps with the elephant's head\nwatermarked was made in 1866. The values bearing this watermark are \u00bd\nanna, 8 pies, 1 anna, 2 annas 9 pies, 4 annas, 6 annas, 6 annas 8 pies,\n12 annas, 1 rupee.\nThe 6 annas 8 pies stamps were printed as this was the rate per ounce\nfor letters to the United Kingdom via Marseilles between 1863 and 1874.\nThe stamps, however, were not actually issued until 1867, and their\nsale was discontinued in 1874, when the Marseilles route was abandoned.\nUp to 1882 all the Indian stamps printed in London were of smaller\nsize than English stamps, and they bore the inscription \"EAST INDIA\nPOSTAGE.\" In 1882 new dies on a larger scale were prepared by Messrs.\nDe La Rue, and the inscription was changed to \"INDIA POSTAGE.\" The\nvalues issued were \u00bd anna 9 pies, 1 anna, 1 anna 6 pies, 2 annas, 3\nannas, 4 annas, 4 annas 6 pies, 8 annas, 12 annas, 1 rupee. The stamps\nwere printed on medium white wove paper watermarked with a five-pointed\nstar.\nOn 1st January, 1891, the postage to the United Kingdom was reduced\nto 2 annas and 6 pies, and a new stamp was prepared. Until the new\nissue was ready the 4 annas 6 pies stamps were surcharged with \"2\u00bd\nAs.\" Bi-coloured stamps of 1 rupee, 2 rupees, 3 rupees and 5 rupees\nwere also printed and a provisional 3 pies stamp was issued, made by\nsurcharging the \u00bd anna stamp with \"\u00bc\" in black. The stamps of 2, 3 and\n5 rupees were of specially large size and bore a later portrait of the\nQueen (Fig. 3). This portrait was also adopted for the 3 pies carmine\nstamp which was issued in 1899. Owing to the decision of the Postal\nUnion to have uniform colours for stamps representing the initial rates\nof international postages the colours of the \u00bd anna, 1 anna and 2 annas\n6 pies stamps were changed to yellow-green, carmine and ultramarine.\nThis necessitated a change in the 3 pies from carmine to grey and in\nthe 2 annas from ultramarine to mauve.\n[Illustration: SPECIMEN VICTORIAN ISSUES]\nThe King Edward VII issues of 1902-3 were of the same corresponding\nvalues as those of the Queen Victoria stamps 1882-1900. The colours are\n3 pies, grey; \u00bd anna, yellow-green; 1 anna, carmine; 2 annas, mauve; 2\nannas 6 pies, ultramarine; 3 annas, orange-brown; 4 annas, olive-green;\n6 annas, bistre; 8 annas, purple; 12 annas, purple on red paper; 1\nrupee, green and carmine; 2 rupees, carmine and yellow-brown; 3 rupees\nbrown and green; 5 rupees, ultramarine and violet.\nIn 1906 it was decided to abolish the special receipt stamp and to\nuse the \u00bd anna and 1 anna postage stamp for both postage and revenue\npurposes. A new design was therefore prepared for these values with the\ninscription \"INDIA POSTAGE AND REVENUE.\"\nIn 1909 the double-headed telegraph stamps were abolished and it was\ndecided to employ postage stamps in payment of telegrams. The value\nof telegraph stamps extended to fifty rupees, but it was considered\nsufficient to add three new values to the postage stamps for use upon\nthe more expensive telegrams, namely 10, 15 and 25 rupees. These stamps\nare of the same size and design as the 2, 3 and 5 rupees issues, and\nthe colours are 10 rupees, pink and green; 15 rupees, olive-brown and\nblue; 25 rupees, orange and blue.\nThe stamps of George V issued in 1911 were completely re-designed. The\nhigher values with the elephants as supporters are very artistic. In\n1913 the 2 annas 6 pies stamp was re-designed and the colour changed\nfrom ultramarine to bright blue.\nIn 1918 the United Kingdom raised the postage rate to India from 1d.\nto 1\u00bdd., and, to correspond with the increase, the Government of India\nraised the postage to the United Kingdom to 1\u00bd annas. The new stamp was\nintended to be a dark chocolate-brown, but was printed by Messrs. De La\nRue & Co. in a light chocolate.\nIn 1866 service postage stamps first came into use for employment on\nofficial correspondence. The \u00bd anna, 1 anna, 2 annas and 4 annas were\noverprinted with the word \"Service.\" The first supply was overprinted\nin India pending the arrival of the stamps ordered from England. A\nconsignment of 8 annas overprinted was also received from England. In\n1874 the overprint was altered to \"On H. M. S.,\" as shown in Fig. 4,\nand in 1883 the rupee stamp was also overprinted in this way.\nVarious other overprints were used by local bodies in India, but after\na time the practice was forbidden. In 1911 the overprint was again\naltered to \"Service.\"\nThe following overprints were also used for Indian postage in other\ncountries:\n  Straits Settlements               1867-1868, Queen's Head.\n  C.E.F. (China Expeditionary\n  British Somaliland                1903-1904, Queen's and\n  I.E.F. (Indian Expeditionary\n[Illustration: SPECIMEN EDWARDIAN AND GEORGIAN ISSUES]\nOVERPRINTS (INDIAN CONVENTION STATES)\n  Patiala         1884 to present date.\n  Chamba          1896 to present date.\nThere are many varieties of the overprints in the Indian Convention\nStates stamps and many errors, which have led to numerous forgeries of\nthe different overprints.\nA very exhaustive history of the postage stamps of India with detailed\naccounts of errors and provisional issues will be found in _The\nPostage and Telegraph Stamps of British India_, by L. L. R. Hausburg,\nC. Stewart Wilson and C. S. F. Crofton, published by Messrs. Stanley\nGibbons. This is the standard work on the subject, and it contains many\nfine plates and illustrations. Part I, on postage stamps, is written\nby Mr. Hausburg, and no article on Indian stamps can pretend to be\nanything more than a r\u00e9sum\u00e9 of his detailed researches.\nOne merit the Postal Administration of India can justly claim and that\nis the purity of its stamp issues. The simple design of the Sovereign's\nhead has always been maintained and the temptation to issue fancy\npictures for commemoration purposes has always been steadily avoided.\nFOOTNOTE:\n[7] 12 pies = 1 anna = 1 penny approximately.\nAPPENDICES\nAPPENDIX A\nPERSONNEL OF THE POST OFFICE\nThe following table gives the staff of the Department on the 1st April,\n  General Supervising Staff           747\n  Extra Departmental Agents        12,668\n  Clerical and Signalling Staff    24,620\n  Road Establishment               18,467\nThe Audit Staff of the Posts and Telegraphs has not been included as\nthis is under the control of the Finance Department.\nRecruitment for the posts of Superintendent is effected in two ways,\nnamely--\n  (1) by the selection of qualified persons not already in the service\n  of the Department, and\n  (2) by the promotion of officials from the subordinate ranks of the\n  Department.\nIn the former case the person selected is generally required to join as\na probationary superintendent, and is not given a permanent appointment\nuntil he has shown his fitness in every respect for the position and\nhas passed an examination in Post Office work.\nOrdinarily a probationary superintendent is not allowed to act as a\nsuperintendent until he has had a practical training in postal work;\nthat is to say, he performs the duties of a postmaster, accompanies\na superintendent on tour and is given an insight into the general\nworking of the Department in the offices of the Postmaster-General\nand Superintendent. There is no minimum period fixed in which a\nprobationer, when fully qualified, must receive a permanent post.\nIt depends on the vacancies that occur in the sanctioned cadre; but\nexperience has shown that the period seldom exceeds two and a half\nyears, and the average is two years and two months.\nPostmasters are generally recruited from the lower ranks of the\nDepartment, such as sub-postmasters and clerks, who usually start\ntheir careers as probationers. The exceptions to this rule are the\nprobationary postmasters, who are specially selected in order to\nimprove the personnel in the higher appointments.\nAPPENDIX B\nEXTRACTS FROM EARLY REGULATIONS REGARDING THE MAIL SERVICE\nAn extract from the Consultations, 17th January, 1774, gives in detail\nthe arrangement made by Warren Hastings for the improvement of postal\narrangements.\nThe President lays down before the Board the following plan for the\nbetter regulations of the Dauks and for forming a General Post Office:--\n  The present management of the Dauks is attended with many\n  inconveniences. Private letters are exempt from postage and the whole\n  expense of the establishment falls upon the Company. The Dauks from\n  the same cause are loaded with packages of the most frivolous kind and\n  of unreasonable weights. The privilege of sending private letters by\n  the Dauks being confined to the European inhabitants, affords but a\n  partial aid to the necessary intercourse of trade. The establishment\n  is branched out into various departments, all independent and\n  unconnected, the expense partly defrayed by ready-money payments and\n  partly by taxes on the zemindars and farmers, who make an advantage\n  of them in the deductions of their rents. From all these causes\n  the establishment is involved in a labyrinth of obscurity, without\n  checks and without system. The delays on the road are often greater\n  than those of common cossids or couriers without a possibility\n  of correcting them, because it cannot be known by whom they are\n  occasioned. Of these delays the President himself has had repeated\n  proofs insomuch that whenever he has had occasion for extraordinary\n  despatch he has made use of express cossids, and these never failed\n  to exceed the regular Dauks by nearly half the space of time employed\n  by the latter for the same distance. The loose and irregular manner\n  in which the letters are received and distributed exposes the\n  correspondence of individuals and even the public despatches to great\n  delays and to the risk of being lost or intercepted.\nTo remedy these evils, the following plan is submitted to the Board,\nfor the future management of this office, in which it is attempted\nto limit the expense to provide a fund for its support by laying a\nmoderate postage on private letters, to render it of more extensive use\nand to form the different parts into one uniform and general system.\n_Plan of a new Establishment of Dauks and of a General Post Office_\n1. That the Dauks be formed into four divisions as follows:--\n  First Division from Calcutta to Ganjam;\n  Second Division from Calcutta to Patna;\n  Third Division from Patna to Benares and to such farther distance as\n    may be hereafter determined;\n  Fourth Division from Calcutta to Dacca.\n2. That no Dauks be appointed to the cross-roads (excepting Dinagepur)\nas hereafter mentioned, but cossids only occasionally employed by the\nProvincial Councils and Collectors to convey the letters to the nearest\nstages of the Dauks; the pay and other charges of these cossids to be\ntransmitted monthly to the Postmaster-General, whose office will be\nhereafter described.\n3. That as the military operations in Cooch Behar require a constant\nand regular correspondence, a cross-post be established between\nDinagepur and Rajmehal, and that it remains for future consideration\nwhether it will be necessary to establish a cross-post from Burdwan on\nthe assembling of the Council at that place.\n4. That three hercarrahs or dauks, one massalchy[8] and one drum be\nappointed to each stage, viz.:\n                           Miles.  Furl.  Stages.  Harcrs.  Massl. Drum.\n  Cross-road from Dinagepur\n5. That a Munshi be fixed at each capital stage who shall have charge\nof a certain number of stages.\n6. That two gurreewallas or time-keepers be appointed with each Munshi\nfor the purpose of determining the arrival of each packet, which shall\nbe written on the outside of the packet and an account thereof with the\ntime of the last despatch kept by the Munshi.\n7. That a deputy postmaster be appointed with the following\nestablishment of servants at the following stations, who shall have\ncharge of all the stages from the Presidency to the place of his\nresidence, pay the Munshi's charges dependent on him, take an account\nof all letters received and despatched, receive and issue letters,\ntransmit his accounts and reports to the Postmaster-General, and\nreceive his orders:--\n    Establishment at      Deputy.  Peons.\n8. That a Postmaster-General be appointed at Calcutta with one Deputy,\none merda or native assistant, seven sorters, one jemadar and fifteen\npeons for distributing letters. He will have the control of the whole\nestablishment, and all the accounts will be brought into his office.\nBYE-RULES\n1. That all letters shall pay postage, excepting such as are on the\npublic service.\n2. That the postage on inland letters shall be paid when put into the\noffice at the following rates:--\n  Single letters for every 100 miles, 2 annas. Double letters in\n  proportion according to their weight.\n3. That letters coming by sea, or from foreign settlements, shall pay\non delivery and be rated at half postage.\n4. That a table of postage, formed according to the above rules, be\naffixed at the different offices for the public inspection.\n5. That the post office in Calcutta shall be open from 10 o'clock in\nthe morning till 1 for the delivery of letters, and from 6 till 9 in\nthe evening for the receipt of letters.\n6. That a daily account of the number and weight of letters despatched,\nwith the amount of postage, be kept at each office, that a monthly\naccount be transmitted to the Postmaster-General by his Deputies and\nthat a general abstract of the whole receipts and disbursements be laid\nbefore the Board every month.\n7. That the letters when received into the offices shall be sorted and\nput up in separate bags for the different stations, together with a\nnote of the number in each.\n8. That all letters shall be stamped with the day of the month on which\nthey are delivered into any chief office.\n9. That for the facility of paying the postage on letters small copper\ntickets be immediately struck to be received at the rate of 2 annas\neach, but to pass only at the post office.\nFOOTNOTE:\n[8] Torchbearer.\nAPPENDIX C\nMETHODS OF TRAVEL IN EARLY DAYS\nThe dak or travelling system prevailing in India in the year 1857 was\nalmost wholly arranged by the Post Office and was available for private\nindividuals as well as for officials. When a traveller contemplated\na journey he applied to the local postmaster for means of transport,\ngiving, as a rule, two or three days' previous notice. Horse daks,\ni.e. wheeled conveyances drawn by horses, were available only on the\ngreat trunk roads, which were metalled. On other roads, the journey,\nwhen not performed on horseback, was accomplished in a palanquin or\npalkee, a kind of wooden box, about six feet in length by four in\nheight, fitted at the sides with sliding shutters and suspended on two\npoles borne on the shoulders of four men. The pleasures of travelling\nin this fashion have been described by Bishop Heber and other writers.\nThe traveller provided his own palanquin, and the postmaster supplied\nthe palkee-burdars or palanquin-bearers, eight in number, as well as\ntwo mussalchees or torchbearers and two bhangy-burdars or luggage\nporters. The charges, about one shilling per mile for the entire set\nof twelve men, had to be paid in advance, the traveller notifying the\ntime and place of starting and the duration and localities of halts.\nThere was also an extra charge for demurrage or delays on the road\nattributable to the traveller himself. For these charges the postmaster\nundertook that there should be relays of dak servants throughout the\nwhole distance, and, to ensure this, he had to write in advance to\nthe different villages and post stations ordering relays to be ready\nat the appointed hours. The stages averaged ten miles each and were\naccomplished in three hours, at the end of which time the twelve men\nretraced their steps, having been succeeded by another twelve; for\neach set of men belonged to a particular station. The horse daks were\nestablished on the same system, several pairs of horses or ponies\nbeing kept at the different stages as relays. The bullock train, which\nwas intended chiefly for baggage and parcels, was largely used for\nconveyance of troops during the Mutiny. There were one or two private\ncompanies in existence, but the public as a rule preferred to use the\nGovernment vehicles, as they were considered more reliable.\nThere were no hotels or inns on the road, but dak bungalows or rest\nhouses, a convenient substitute, were established at places varying\nfrom fifteen to fifty miles apart, according as the road was much or\nlittle frequented. These bungalows were under Government control, a\nkhidmatgar or servant and a porter being in attendance at each, the\ntraveller paying a fixed sum for the use of his room and making a\nseparate bargain for any few articles of provisions that might be\nobtainable. The building was little more than a thatched house of one\nstory, divided into two or three rooms, to each of which a bathroom was\nattached. The khidmatgar cooked and served the meals ordered, while\nthe porter supplied wood and water. The dak system was perfected by\nLord Dalhousie, during whose administration many fine metalled roads,\nincluding the grand trunk road from Calcutta to the Punjab, were\ncompleted. The new system was a great improvement upon the primitive\narrangements in force during the Punjab campaign of 1846, when, owing\nto the tedious nature of the journey and the slow method of progress,\nout of one hundred officers sent off by palanquin from Calcutta to aid\nViscount Hardinge only thirty arrived at the Sutlej before the campaign\nwas over.\nAPPENDIX D\nSTATEMENT SHOWING THE WORK OF THE POST OFFICE SAVINGS BANK\n   Year.   No. of Banks.    No. of Accounts.       Rs.\nAPPENDIX E\nSTATEMENT OF INLAND MONEY ORDERS ISSUED IN INDIA SINCE 1880\n            amount of Ordinary   Number and amount of   Number and amount of\n               Money Orders      Revenue Money Orders     Rent Money Orders\n             issued in India.      issued in India.       issued in India.\n Year.     Number.       Value.    Number.     Value.      Number.    Value.\nAPPENDIX F\nHISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS OF THE CALCUTTA GENERAL POST OFFICE\nThis handsome building is situated on the west side of Dalhousie Square\nat the corner of Koila Ghat Street, being a portion of the site of the\nold Fort of Calcutta. The removal of the old foundations was a work of\ngreat difficulty owing to the extreme hardness of the masonry, which\nin many cases had to be blasted away. The building was erected from\ndesigns by Mr. Walter B. Granville, Architect to the Government of\nIndia. It was opened to the public in the year 1868 and cost 6,30,000\nrupees. It consists of two lofty storys, the east and south fronts\nbeing faced with tall Corinthian columns flanked by massive piers in\nwhich are the staircases. The south-east angle of the building is\nsemicircular, also faced with Corinthian columns leading to a lofty\ncircular hall in which are the public counters. This is surmounted by a\nlantern crowned by a dome, which forms a conspicuous object in the city.\nThe site of the General Post Office is of great historical interest\nowing to its association with the great tragedy of the Black Hole of\nCalcutta. On entering the Post Office courtyard from Koila Ghat Street\nthere are two tablets with the following inscriptions:--\n[Illustration: GENERAL POST OFFICE. CALCUTTA]\n[Illustration: BLACK HOLE, CALCUTTA. ADJOINING THE GENERAL POST\nOFFICE]\n  I. The brass lines in the stone,\n            on the adjacent ground,\n          mark the position and extent\n            of the South Curtain\n            of old Fort William.\n  II. The two lines of twelve arches\n            to the west of this tablet\n      are all that now remains above ground\n            of old Fort William and\n      originally formed a portion of the arcade\n            within the South Curtain.\n      The Black Hole Prison was a small room\n        formed by bricking up two arches\n          of a similar but smaller arcade\n            within the East Curtain\n            south of the East Gate.\nThe sunken arches, where the Post Office vans were kept, once formed\npart of the arcade within the south curtain, the wall line of which\nis marked out by brass lines let into the pavement. The wall of the\ncurtain, a portion of which was still standing in 1895, backed the old\nexport and import warehouses, and through the arches one would have in\nthe old days looked into the parade ground within the Fort. The export\nand import warehouses were built against the south curtain in 1741 and\nwould have followed the line of Koila Ghat Street.\nThe angle of the south-east bastion and the thickness of its walls\nis indicated by brass lines let into the steps of the Post Office. A\ntablet pointing out this fact is on the adjacent wall, and the entrance\nto the east gate of the Fort is commemorated by a tablet fixed into the\nred building opposite the Holwell obelisk:\n        Sixteen feet behind this wall\n      was the entrance of the East Gate\n      of old Fort William through which\n        the bodies of those who perished\n      in the Black Hole were brought and\n      thrown into the ditch of the Ravelin\nTo the north of the General Post Office building, inside the large\ngateway, is a tablet with the following inscription:--\nTHE BLACK HOLE.\n            The marble pavement below this spot\n      Lord Curzon, Viceroy and Governor-General of India,\n      To mark the site of the prison in Old Fort William\n                  known as the Black Hole.\n      In which 146 British Inhabitants of Calcutta were\n      confined on the night of the 20th June, 1756,\n            and from which only 23 came out alive.\n      The pavement marks the exact breadth of the prison,\n        14 ft. 10 in., but not its full length, 18 feet.\n      About one-third of the area at the north end being\n    covered by the building on which this tablet is erected.\nNear by Mr. Holwell, then Collector of Calcutta, who was one of the\nsurvivors, erected an obelisk at his own expense to the memory of those\nwho perished in the Black Hole on the spot where the 123 killed were\nburied. The tablet bore the following inscriptions:--\n        Edward Eyre, William Bailie, Esqrs.; the Revd.\n      Jervas Bellamy; Messrs. Jenks, Reeveley, Law, Coates,\n    Napcourt, Jebb, Torrians, E. Page, S. Page, Grub, Street,\n        Harod, P. Johnstone, Ballard, N. Drake, Carse, Knapton,\n    Goslin, Dod, Dalrymple; Captains Clayton, Buchanan, and\n    Witherington; Lieutenants Bishop, Hays, Blagge, Simpson,\n      and J. Bellamy; Ensigns Paccard, Scott, Hastings,\n    C. Wedderburn, and Dymbleton; Sea-Captains Hunt, Osburn,\n    and Purnell; Messrs. Carey, Leech, Stevenson, Guy Porter,\n            Parker, Caulkee, Bendal and Atkinson;\n        Who, with sundry other inhabitants, Military and\n        Militia, to the number of 123 persons, were, by\n            the tyrannic violence of Suraj-ud-Dowlah,\n      Suffocated in the Black-Hole Prison of Fort William,\n            on the night of the 20th day of June, 1756,\n              and promiscuously thrown the succeeding\n                      morning into the ditch\n                    of the ravelin of this place.\n      This monument is erected by their surviving fellow-sufferer,\n      This horrid act of violence was as amply as deservedly\n      revenged on Suraj-ud-Dowlah, by His Majesty's arms,\n     under the conduct of Vice-Admiral Watson and Col. Clive,\nThe Marquis of Hastings in 1840 had the monument pulled down, but Lord\nCurzon in 1903 had a replica made and placed in the same spot where it\nnow stands.\nAPPENDIX G\n  Extract from the narrative of the interruption in the mail\n  arrangements in the N.-W.P. and Punjab subsequent to the Mutiny at\n  Meerut and Delhi on the 10th and 11th May, 1857.\n  By MR. G. PATON, Postmaster-General, North-West Provinces.\nOn the mutiny of the native troops at Meerut and Delhi on the 10th\nand 11th May, 1857, the mail communication between Meerut, Delhi and\nAllyghur was interrupted. The eastern mails were then forwarded from\nAllyghur via Anoopshahur and Moradabad to Meerut and thence direct to\nKurnaul or via Seharanpore to Umballa. In like manner the mails from\nthe north-west were forwarded from Kurnaul and Umballa to Allyghur.\nThere was delay by the arrangement, but it was the only one practicable\non the route via Delhi being closed by the mutiny and rebellion there.\n2. After the lapse of a week the mail was reopened between Allyghur and\nMeerut, but by the mutiny of the 9th Regiment N.I. on the 20th June at\nAllyghur all postal communication from the north, the south, the east\nand west of that station was stopped.\n3. Exertions were made to establish communication between Cawnpore and\nMeerut via Futtehgurh, Bareilly and Moradabad. Mails were forwarded\ntowards Bareilly, but none issued from or through that station. This\nexcited much uneasiness for some time, but was explained by the mutiny\nof the troops there and at Shajehanpore on the 30th June. Bareilly was,\nlike Delhi, the scene of the political intrigue, and the suppression of\npostal communication was there, as elsewhere, an object of the first\nimportance with the insurgents.\n4. The post offices and mail lines in Oude, generally, became\ndisorganized about the same time as in Rohilcund, as the troops\nmutinied almost simultaneously in both provinces.\n5. While the Grand Trunk Road between Cawnpore and Agra was open,\narrangements were made to maintain communication between the Punjab and\nCis-Sutledge States with Agra via Kurnaul Hansie and Jeypore, but the\nmutiny of the Hurrianah Battalion and a portion of the 4th Irregular\nCavalry at Hansie and Hissar in the end of May entirely stopped that\nline.\n6. An attempt was made to open communication with Agra and Meerut via\nMuttra and by a line midway between Khoorjah and Secunderabad, but it\nhad to be abandoned owing to the rebel Wulleedad Khan and his followers\nhaving obtained undisputed possessions of the district of Bulundshahur.\n7. But, although Bulundshahur and a large portion of Allyghur were\noccupied by the rebel Wulleedad Khan, a line of runners was established\nbetween Meerut and Agra via Gurhmooktesur Ghat, the left bank of the\nGanges, Anoopshahur and Allyghur. Letters of light weight were managed\nto be conveyed with tolerable safety by that route, notwithstanding\nthat large sums were offered for the murder of those caught in the act\nof conveying English correspondence.\n8. On or about the 5th June the troops at Allahabad, Cawnpore,\nFuttehgurh, Hameerpore, Banda Jansie, Lullutpore and Saugor mutinied;\nand, in consequence, all the post offices and mail lines in the\nDoab and Bundlekund as low down as Mirzapore became disorganized.\nCommunication between Agra, the Cis-Sutledge States and Calcutta was\nthen fairly cut off and could not be re-established by the Grand Trunk\nRoad so long as Delhi remained in the possession of the mutineers. The\nroute via Multan to Bombay was, however, open and instructions were\ngiven for the mails to and from the N.-W.P., Cis-Sutledge and Punjab\nbeing forwarded via Lahore.\n9. Between Agra and Bombay the mail was not interrupted till the mutiny\nof the Gwalior Contingent on the 17th June, and since then up to 1st\nFebruary, 1858, or a period of seven months and thirteen days, the road\nvia Gwalior and Indore to Bombay was closed or not practicable and safe\nfor the mail.\n10. So soon as it was apparent that the mail between Bombay and Agra\ncould not be re-established via Gwalior and Indore, the establishment\nof runners between Agra, Jeypore, Naseerabad, Deesa and Ahmedabad was\nstrengthened, and the mails to and from Bombay, Calcutta, Madras, etc.,\nwere very regularly conveyed by that route.\n11. In the course of the month of August, Dr. Clark managed at\nAgra to organize an establishment of kossids, thence via Etawah to\nCawnpore, and for very light letters not exceeding a \u00bc tola in weight\nthe arrangements, although occasionally interrupted, were generally\nsuccessful excepting for a period of nearly eighteen days in the end\nof November and beginning of December, when the troops of the Gwalior\nContingent crossed the Jumna and invested Cawnpore. On the defeat of\nthe Gwalior Contingent at Cawnpore on the 7th December the kossid dak\nwas again useful in keeping up communication between Agra and Cawnspore\nuntil the 5th January, 1858, when the mail carts were re-established\nafter having ceased to run from the 5th June, or a period of seven\nmonths.\n12. Communication with the province of Kemaon was uninterruptedly\nmaintained by an establishment of runners posted via Sreenugger,\nTeeree, Mussoorie and Deyrah Dhoon.\n13. Between Meerut and the Camp at Delhi runners were posted via\nBagput, but they were frequently cut off, and the communication had to\nbe kept up via Shamlie and Kurnaul or via Seharunpore and Umballa. When\nthe runners between Meerut and the Camp at Delhi were intercepted it\nwas frequently impossible to open direct communication even by kossids,\nso closely was the country infested with insurgents.\n14. The mail cart establishment between the Camp at Delhi and Lahore\nwas steadily kept up. Occasionally it was unsafe to take the carts over\nthe twelve miles leading to and from the Camp, and there the coachman\nrode the horses across country or proceeded on foot and so managed to\nelude the insurgents.\n15. The mail cart establishment was the only available means by which\nofficers could travel to and from the Camp before Delhi, and it\nafforded them an easy and speedy mode of travelling.\n16. Extra horses were posted at each stage between the Jhellum and\nDelhi to admit of express cart daks being laid when necessary for mails\nor passengers.\n17. In the month of August it became necessary to provide means for\nthe removal of the sick and wounded officers from the Camp in Delhi to\nKurnaul or Umballa, and some of the Inland Transit Company's carriages,\nin addition to the palanquin carriages and vans attached to the Post\nOffice, were hired for the purpose. All sick and wounded officers\nwere allowed, at the recommendation of the Brigadier-General, now Sir\nArchdale Wilson, to travel free of expense. Many valuable lives were\nthus saved.\n18. I consider the conduct of the native coachmen beyond all praise\nduring the disturbances. Great temptations to desert us were held out\nto them by the mutineers, but not one of them proved unfaithful to\nGovernment. From the date of arrival of our troops before Delhi on the\n8th June till the 20th of September, the date of the fall of Delhi, the\ncoachmen conveyed the mails to and from the Camp with the same safety\nand the same regularity as before the outbreak.\n19. The public mind of the Punjab and Cis-Sutledge States was at the\nhighest pitch of excitement watching the result of the operations of\nour troops against the mutineers at Delhi, and any interruption of the\nmail would have had a fatal effect on the peace of those States. The\ntelegraph wire connecting the Camp with the Punjab was frequently cut,\nand thus it may be easily understood that the regularity of the mail\nthroughout the crisis was of the most vital importance.\n20. The Commissioner of Scinde, anticipating the possibility of\nthe communication between the Punjab and Scinde or Bombay being\ncut off, organized on his own responsibility a mail establishment\nbetween Bhawulpore and Jaudhpore, and again with Deesa and Hyderabad.\nThis arrangement was useful in conveying intelligence between Agra,\nthe Punjab and Central India, and also as an auxiliary line of\ncommunication between the Punjab and Bombay.\n21. In the middle and end of July the mail cart establishment between\nGoogairah and Mooltan became very clamorous and appeared to be inclined\nto strike. The vital importance of that establishment made me determine\non travelling to Mooltan so as to ascertain whether the contractors\nhad any reasonable grievance. There had been many expresses besides\npassenger daks, and their horses had been perhaps somewhat overworked\nin consequence, and accordingly I authorized an additional horse at\neach stage, which for the time quieted the contractors and they gave\nno more trouble. I was not without some suspicion that there were\npolitical influences exciting dissatisfaction amongst them. This\nimpression was in some degree corroborated by an effort on the part\nof the prisoners of the jail at Googairah attempting to effect their\nescape. Happily, through the prompt and rigorous measures adopted\nby the Deputy Commissioner, Mr. Elphinstone, the _\u00e9meute_ amongst\nthe prisoners was most successfully crushed and the peace of the\ndistrict was not disturbed. Otherwise the mails would have there been\ninterrupted.\n22. On the 14th September insurrection broke out between Googairah\nand Hurruppa. Many horses of the mail cart establishment were carried\noff by the rebels. Several carts were burnt, and communication by the\ndirect route between Lahore and Mooltan was for several days wholly\ncut off. The local authorities of the district had no warning of the\noutbreak till the morning of the night on which it took place. The\nDistrict Officers gave me reason to hope that the insurrection would\nbe instantly put down, but unfortunately, owing to their paucity of\ntroops, the rebels were not overawed sufficiently to admit of the mails\nbeing conveyed by the direct road within fifteen days. In the interim,\nhowever, they were, after several days' stoppage, conveyed via Shahpore\nand Seeah to and from Mooltan and Lahore.\n23. It is here worthy of remark that the successful assault of Delhi on\nthe 14th September by our troops was telegraphed to Lahore, and full\nparticulars thereof were transmitted by the mail of that date from\nLahore to Mooltan, Scinde, Bombay, etc., before the outbreak between\nGoogairah and Humppa. The receipt of the news of the successful assault\nof Delhi was signally opportune in Scinde, as the native troops then at\nKarachi, Hyderabad and Shikarpore were in a state approaching to open\nmutiny.\n24. The route for the mail between Lahore and Mooltan via Shahpore\nbeing very circuitous and also unsafe as the country between the\nSutledge and Ravee and even for some distance west of the Ravee was in\nopen revolt, it became necessary to determine on having a more direct\nline of communication between Lahore, Scinde and Bombay. Accordingly\na camel dak was established by the Chief Commissioner of the Punjab\nbetween Bhawulpore and Ferozepore. The head overseer of the Jullunder\nDivision, Hurdeo Bux, was transferred for the superintendence of this\ndak and managed it most successfully.\n25. The establishment of runners between Ferozepore, Lahore and\nLoodianah was at the same time strengthened in view to provide for\nthe extra weight of the mails in transit via Bhawulpore, and thus the\nstations east and west of the Sutledge were rendered independent of\nthe direct mail line between Lahore and Mooltan in respect to Scinde,\nBombay, Calcutta, etc., etc.\n26. The post offices and mail lines at and above Meerut and throughout\nthe Cis-Sutledge States and Punjab have continued in uninterrupted\noperation excepting those situated on the line of road between\nGoogairah and Humppa, which were for a short time the scene of\ninsurrections in September.\nAPPENDIX H\nTHE WORK OF THE FIELD POST OFFICE BETWEEN 1867 AND 1912\n_The Abyssinian Expedition._\nAt the end of September, 1867, the Postmaster-General, Bombay, reported\nthat a reconnoitring party under Colonel Merewether, Political Agent,\nhad left for Abyssinia and a Field Force was shortly to follow. A\npost office under Mr. J. Gardiner as Inspecting Postmaster sailed for\nAbyssinia on the 25th November along with the second detachment of the\nExpeditionary Force. A portion of the staff was left at Massowah, where\nthe troops disembarked, and the rest was ordered to advance with the\nArmy. Having fallen ill through overwork, Mr. Gardiner was replaced by\nMr. E. de C. Williams on the 1st March, 1868.\nOrdinary postage stamps were used, the denominations of the stamps\nsupplied for the Field Force being \u00bd anna, 1 anna, 2 annas, 4 annas, 6\nannas 8 pies, and 8 annas 8 pies. The postage payable on articles for\nmembers of the Expeditionary Force was as follows:\n  LETTERS--4 annas for every \u00bd oz., 8 annas for 1 oz. and 8 annas for\n  every additional oz. in excess of the first oz.\n  NEWSPAPERS--8 pies for 4 ozs., 1 anna 4 pies for 8 ozs.\n  BOOKS--2 annas for 4 ozs., 4 annas for 8 ozs. and 4 annas for every\n  additional 8 ozs.\nPrepayment in the latter two cases being compulsory. It does not\nappear that parcels or money orders were exchanged or Savings Bank\ntransactions allowed.\nThe postal officials began to return from Abyssinia by the end of June,\n1868, the last batch arriving at Bombay on the 4th July.\n_The Afghanistan Expedition._\nThe war broke out in November, 1878, and Mr. J. H. Cornwall was\nappointed to take charge of postal arrangements with the column under\nthe command of General Stewart, Mr. W. T. van Someren with the column\nunder the command of Major-General F. S. Roberts, and Mr. J. L. Fendal\nwith the Peshawar column. The approximate strength of the whole force\nwas about 45,000 fighting men and 60,000 camp followers. The mails\nbetween Quetta and Kandahar were conveyed under the control of the\nPolitical Agent and the military authorities.\nWhen General Roberts moved out, a hill cart service was opened from\nKohat to Thull, a distance of sixty-four miles, in the Kurram Valley.\nThe principal difficulty was the work of organizing and maintaining the\nmail lines, which were also used for conveying military stores. Apart\nfrom the work done at the Post Office workshops at Aligarh, workshops\nhad to be opened at Rawalpindi, Jund, Thull and other places for the\nconstruction and repair of carts. In this expedition non-commissioned\nofficers were taught to do postal work, and whenever they were required\nto do so they were allowed a postal salary of Rs.30 a month.\nThe control of the whole postal arrangements devolved upon Colonel W.\nM. Lane, Postmaster-General, Punjab, and it was due to his exertions\nthat the arrangements met with success.\n_Malta Expeditionary Force._\nIn April, 1878, it was decided to send an Expeditionary Force to\nMalta under Major-General J. Ross, C.B., and at the instance of the\nmilitary authorities a small postal staff, consisting of a postmaster\n(Mr. Dinshaw Jijibhoy) with a clerk and three peons, was selected to\naccompany the troops. The postal arrangements were made under the\ndirection of the Postmaster-General, Bombay, and the Expeditionary\nForce started from Bombay on the 1st May, 1878.\nWhen the island of Cyprus was ceded to Great Britain by Turkey\nthe Indian Contingent went to occupy it, and the postal staff was\naccordingly ordered to embark for Cyprus. A British post office was\nopened at Larnaka and Mr. Dinshaw was placed in charge of it, and there\nhe worked conjointly with the British postal staff till his return to\nIndia on the 22nd August, 1878. Shortly after Sir Garnet Wolseley came\nout from England as Governor, and the island was then divided into six\nparts, each with a Civil Commissioner and garrisoned by a regiment.\nThe Commissioners were ex-officio postmasters of their respective\ndivisions, and there was no regular arrangement between these divisions\nfor the exchange of mails, which were occasionally conveyed by means\nof Japties or policemen. When Cyprus was first occupied there was only\na fortnightly communication with India by means of the Austrian Lloyd\nSteam Navigation Company's steamers; subsequently a weekly service was\nalso established by the Bells Asia Minor Line of steamers. A small\nAustrian post office at Larnaka was permitted, and this served the\nentire island. The field post office was opened at Malta on the 27th\nMay and closed at Cyprus on the 22nd August, 1878.\n_Egypt Expeditionary Force._\nIn the beginning of July, 1882, the Government of India directed an\nExpeditionary Force of about 7000 men of all arms for service in Egypt\nunder the command of Major-General Sir H. Macpherson, V.C., K.C.B.\nThe postal arrangements were made by Mr. Fanshawe, Postmaster-General,\nBombay, and Mr. J. H. Cornwall, who had special experience of the\nmanagement of field post offices in Afghanistan, was selected as the\nChief Superintendent of Field Post Offices.\nThe Indian field post office establishment started from Bombay on the\n22nd August, 1882, and returned there on the 31st October of the same\nyear.\n_Kalahandi Expedition._\nThe rising of Khonds in Kalahandi, an important feudatory State in the\nChattisgarh Division in Central Provinces, necessitated the despatch\nof troops. In June, 1882, the Deputy Postmaster-General, Central\nProvinces, reported that the rising was of a serious character and\nthat the country was not likely to be quiet for some time. The troops\nmarched from Sambalpur and Raipur, and three field post offices were\nopened to serve them.\nMr. P. Gorman, Superintendent of the Division, was in entire charge of\nthe postal arrangements. The expedition lasted for only a short time,\nbut the communications had to be maintained till about the end of the\nyear.\n_Suakim Field Post Office, 1885._\nIn February, 1885, it was decided to send an Expeditionary Force\ncomposed of Indian troops to Egypt, and the Director-General was asked\nto make arrangements for a field post office to accompany it. Mr.\nO'Shea, as Chief Superintendent, was in charge of the postal staff,\nunder the direction of the Postmaster-General, Bombay.\nThe strength of the Expeditionary Force was 10,517, including\nfollowers, and General Hudson, C.B., was in command of the force. The\npostal staff started from Bombay on the afternoon of the 24th February,\n1885, and on the 7th March, 1885, arrived at Suakim, where the Base\npost office was opened on the 8th current. Mails were exchanged between\nEgypt and India by Government transports and P. & O. packets. Only two\nofficers, Messrs. O'Shea and Lalkaka, received medals, and none were\ngranted to the subordinate postal staff. The field post office was\nclosed in November, 1885.\n_The Upper Burma Expedition._\nOn the 23rd October, 1885, the Government of India asked the\nDirector-General to make the postal arrangements for the Expeditionary\nForce in Upper Burma. The strength of the Force consisted of 10,000\nfighting men and 2000 followers, besides 1000 dhooly bearers and 3000\ncoolies. On the 10th November, 1885, the Expedition, under the command\nof Major-General H. N. D. Prendergast, C.B., V.C., left Rangoon\nfor Upper Burma by steamers up the Irrawaddy river to Thayetmyo and\nthence by the land route to Mandalay. Mr. G. Barton Groves, Deputy\nPostmaster-General, Burma, was called on to organize the service\nand accompany the Force as Deputy Postmaster-General in charge. The\nRangoon, Prome and Thayetmyo post offices were strengthened, and the\nlast-named was converted into a Base office. Five field post offices\nwere also opened on board the head-quarters steamers of each of the\nfive brigades which composed the force.\n_The Pishin Field Force._\nIn March, 1885, the Governor-General in Council decided to increase the\ngarrison in Baluchistan to a strength of three divisions comprising\nabout 25,000 men and 20,000 followers, and the necessary postal\narrangements had to be made. Mr. J. Short, Deputy Postmaster-General,\nSind and Baluchistan, was in charge, assisted by Mr. E. Walker,\nInspector of post offices.\nIn April, 1885, a head office was opened at Rindli, in Baluchistan,\nwhich was designated the \"Pishin Force Frontier Office,\" and the Quetta\npost office was strengthened. Nine camp post offices were also opened,\nand mails were carried to these offices by camels and sowars.\n_Sikkim Expedition._\nThe orders for the despatch of a force for operations in Sikkim were\nnotified in the _Gazette of India_ of the 3rd March, 1888. Shortly\nafter the commencement of hostilities the Government of Bengal\nrequested Mr. H. M. Kisch, Postmaster-General, Bengal, to open a\nrunners' line from Siliguri to Kalimpong, a distance of thirty-seven\nmiles. This line was used only for transmission of letter mails, parcel\nmails being conveyed by the old route from Darjeeling via Ghum and\nPasok. On the 24th March the Padong post office was converted into a\nsub-office, and from that date it was constituted a Base office for the\nexpedition.\nOn the 16th March the force, which concentrated at Padong, moved\nout in two columns, one under Brigadier-General T. Graham, R.A.,\ncommanding the expedition, and the other under Colonel Michel, of the\n13th Bengal Infantry, the former advancing towards Fort Lingtu and the\nother towards the Rhenok Bazar. With the advance of troops the post\noffice opened at Dulapchin was shortly removed to Ranglichu. Other\npost offices were opened at Gnatong, Sedonchin, Gangtok, Rhenok Bazar\nand Pakyong. The mail lines connecting these offices were under the\nmanagement of the Post Office as far as Ronglichu and Pakyong, but the\nlines beyond were under the Political authorities.\n_The Black Mountain or Hazara Field Force._\nTowards the beginning of September, 1888, the Home Government having\ndecided to send a punitive expedition against the tribesmen of the\nBlack Mountain, a Field Force was organized on the Hazara frontier. The\nobject of the expedition was to punish the Khan Khel Hassanzai and the\nAkazai tribes. Brigadier-General J. W. McQueen, C.B., Commanding the\nPunjab Frontier Force, directed the expedition. On the 8th September,\n1888, Mr. W. T. van Someren, Superintendent of post offices, Rawalpindi\nDivision, was deputed to make the postal arrangements with the force.\nHaripur was constituted a Base office for the Derband column, and\nAbbottabad for the Oghi column. The tonga service from Hassan Abdal\nto Abbottabad was strengthened and extended to Mansera, and a mixed\ntonga and horse service was established between Abbottabad and Oghi.\nA runners' line was opened from Haripur to Derband. A railway sorting\noffice, under the supervision of Mr. N. G. Wait, was also opened at\nHassan Abdal for the sorting and onward transmission of articles for\nthe Field Force.\n_The Chin Expedition, Burma._\nIn December, 1888, a small force of about 1200 men, besides civil\nofficers and followers, headed by Brigadier-General Faunce, started for\nthe Chindwin Division to quell a rising of Burmans and to reduce to\norder the country which was then infested with dacoits. The expedition\nwas undertaken very suddenly, and the Quartermaster-General in India\nasked the Deputy Postmaster-General, Burma, to arrange for the opening\nof a field post office at Kalemyo at a distance of twenty-seven miles\nfrom the base of operations at Kalewa. About July, 1889, the country\nwas brought to a normal state and the troops were withdrawn.\n_The Lushai Expedition._\nIn 1888 the Government of India having decided to send a punitive\nexpedition against the Shendus and other tribes in the Chitagong\nHill Tracts, a small force under Colonel V. W. Tregear was organized\nand concentrated at Demagiri. The force was styled the \"Lushai\nExpeditionary Force,\" and consisted of about 1200 men besides followers\nand coolies. An inspector was deputed to make the postal arrangements.\nThe boat line from Rangamati to Demagiri, which was maintained by\nthe Frontier Police, was strengthened, also the post offices at\nRangamati and Demagiri, the latter being constituted a base office,\nand a post office was opened at Barkul--half-way between Rangamati and\nDemagiri--where there was a stockade of military police. The troops\nkept the field for about four months and came back at the end of April,\n_The Chin Lushai Expedition._\nIn 1889 two armies operated in this expedition, one from Burma and\nthe other from Chittagong. The troops in Burma were divided into\ntwo columns, one operating from Fort White as a base against the\nSyins and other tribes, and the other starting from Gangaw as a\nbase and advancing via Yokwa on Haka. The Chittagong force advanced\nfrom Fort Lungleh on Haka. Brigadier-General W. P. Symons commanded\nthe operations on the Burma side, and Colonel Tregear commanded the\nChittagong column. The strength of the force concentrated at Gangaw\nconsisted of about 40 officers, 1200 European and Indian troops and\n2500 followers. The strength of the Chittagong column consisted of\nabout 3500 men besides followers and coolies.\nOn the Burma side much difficulty was experienced by the supervising\nofficers in organizing and maintaining the lines, which lay over sandy\nbeds of rivers, hillocks and jungles and on the Chittagong side, on\naccount of constant illness and the consequent change of officials\ndeputed. Mr. J. W. McCrea, Superintendent of post offices, Burma\nCircle, was deputed to make postal arrangements for the force under\nthe direction of Mr. G. J. Hynes, Deputy Postmaster-General, Burma. On\nthe other side postal arrangements were made by Mr. G. S. Clifford,\nSuperintendent of post offices, under the direction of Mr. G. Barton\nGroves, Deputy Postmaster-General, Eastern Bengal.\n_The Zhob Expedition._\nThe object of the expedition was to explore the borders of the Zhob\nValley and to take steps either to capture the outlaw Dost Muhammad\nor to expel him from the Kakar country and to coerce the Khiddarzai\nShirani tribe into submission.\nTowards the middle of September, 1890, intimation was received from the\nQuartermaster-General in India that a force of about 2000 men, besides\ncamp followers, was about to start for the Zhob Valley, and on the 27th\nof that month a small field post office, consisting of a sub-postmaster\nand two peons, started from Quetta with a portion of the troops for\nHindubagh, which was to be the general rendezvous. The expedition was\ncommanded by Sir George White.\n_The Black Mountain Expedition._\nIn 1891 a force was sent for operations against the Hassanzai and\nAkazai tribes of the Black Mountains. The strength of the force, which\nwas under the command of Major-General Elles, C.B., was about 6800 men,\nand it advanced from Darband in two columns--one marching via Baradar\nand Pailam to Tilli, and the other along the river route via Kotkai\nand Kunhar. The postal arrangements were made by Mr. W. T. van Someren\nunder the direction of Mr. G. J. Hynes, Postmaster-General, Punjab.\n_The Chin Hills Expedition._\nThe Government of India sanctioned military operations in the north\nand east frontier of the Bhamo district and Chin Hills during the cold\nseason of 1891-92. In the Bhamo direction the object of the expedition\nwas to explore the amber and jade mines, the Hukong Valley and the\ncountry on the east and north-east frontier above the Taeping river on\nthe Chinese border. The expedition had a quasi-military character, and\nabout 5000 troops, including police battalions, operated in various\ncolumns, under the direction of Major-General R. C. Stewart, commanding\nthe Burma districts.\nMr. F. McCrea, Inspector of post offices, Eastern Division, was deputed\nto organize and supervise the arrangements.\n_The Manipur Expedition._\nThe outbreak in Manipur in 1891, and the consequent massacre of Mr.\nQuinton, the Chief Commissioner of Assam, and his party, necessitated\nthe despatch of troops to quell the rebellion. The force was designated\nthe \"Manipur Field Force,\" and about 2500 men, including followers,\noperated from the Tammu side and about the same number from Kohima and\nSilchar. Mr. W. Roussac was in charge of the postal arrangements with\nthe Tammu column, and Mr. F. P. Williams, assisted by an inspector,\nwith the Kohima column. All correspondence for the Tammu column was\nsent from India to Rangoon and thence by boats to Kindat. From Kindat\nto Tammu the mails were conveyed by runners, and a runners' line\nwas opened from Tammu to Manipur. These arrangements worked for a\nvery short time on account of the rapid advance of troops and their\nimmediate return.\n_The Miranzai Expedition._\nThe object of the expedition, which was under the command of\nBrigadier-General Sir William Lockhart, K.C.B., was to overawe the\nrecalcitrant Samil clans of the Urakzai tribe in the Miranzai Valley.\nThe force was ordered to the front in January, 1891, and advanced in\nthree columns, the first column having its base at Shahu Khel, the\nsecond at Tog and the third at Hangu. Mr. A. Bean, Superintendent of\npost offices, Peshawar Division, was placed in charge of field postal\narrangements connected with the force in addition to his own duties.\n_The Wuntho Expedition._\nOn the 15th February, 1891, the station of Kawlin was suddenly attacked\nby a party of rebels from the Wuntho State, in Upper Burma, and a few\npolice who formed the garrison of the place had to evacuate it. The\npost office had to be abandoned and the sub-postmaster had to come\naway along with the other officials. A combined force of police and\nmilitary, consisting of about 2500 men, was at once organized and\nadvanced on Wuntho from Shwebo, Katha and Tigyaing to put down the\nrebellion and bring the country under permanent occupation. The troops\nemployed were not designated a Field Force, and the postal arrangements\nwere therefore carried out on ordinary scale and not according to the\nrules of the Field Service Manual.\n_The Isazai Field Force._\nIn September, 1892, the Government of India decided to send out an\nexpedition under Major-General Sir William Lockhart to punish certain\nvillages of the trans-Indus Isazai clans who had harboured Hashim Ali\nKhan of Seri in contravention of their agreement entered into at Seri\nin May, 1891. A force of about 4000 men of all arms concentrated at\nDerband and was styled the \"Isazai Field Force.\" On the 17th September,\n1892, Mr. C. J. Dease, Superintendent of post offices, was deputed to\nmake the special arrangements for the force with the assistance of an\ninspector.\n_Kurram Field Force._\nIn the beginning of October, 1892, the Government of India decided\nto depute a Political officer at the head of a force in the Lower\nKurram Valley. The object was to expel the Chikkai tribes from the\nvalley and to effect a thorough settlement of the country. The force\nwhich accompanied the Political officer, Mr. W. R. H. Merk, C.S.I.,\nconsisted of about 2500 men, including followers. Mr. P. Sheridan,\nPostmaster-General, Punjab, arranged for field post offices, and the\nSuperintendent of post offices, Peshawar Division, was placed in\ncharge. By the end of October the presence of troops in Kurram was no\nlonger necessary, and the field offices were closed with the exception\nof the head-quarters office, which was retained for the use of the\ngarrison.\n_The Wano Expedition._\nIn August, 1892, owing to disturbances in Afghanistan, a detachment\nof troops had to be sent beyond the frontier to take up position at\nKajuri Kuch in the Wano country, thirty miles beyond the Gomal Pass.\nAs there was no post office at the place, arrangements were made by\nthe Superintendent of post offices, Derajat Division, to send and\nreceive mails via Gomal post office. In September, however, owing to\nthe despatch of further troops, the Post Office was called upon to make\narrangements. By the end of April, 1893, the strength of the Kajuri and\nJandola forces was considerably reduced, and the postal establishments\nwere gradually abolished.\n_The Abor Expedition, 1894._\nThe only postal arrangements made in connection with this expedition,\nwhich lasted for a very short time, were the opening of a runners' line\nfrom Sadiya to Bomjur and the strengthening of the delivery staff of\nSadiya post office by an additional postman.\n_The Waziristan Field Force._\nIn August, 1894, the Government of India sanctioned the despatch of\ntroops to accompany the British Commissioner in connection with the\nAfghan boundary demarkation. Pundit Shiv Pal, the Superintendent of\npost offices, Derajat Division, was placed in charge assisted by two\ninspectors, till he was relieved by Mr. W. T. van Someren, who was\nplaced on special duty in this connection. The post office at Tank was\ntemporarily converted into a Base head office, and three field post\noffices were opened to move with the force.\nOn the 3rd November the Mushud Waziri made a determined night attack\non the British camp at Wano, and, although the attack was repulsed, it\nresulted in 120 casualties. In the beginning of December, 1894, the\nGovernment of India having sanctioned active operations in Waziristan,\nLieutenant-General Sir William Lockhart, who was now placed in command,\nasked for an additional Superintendent, and Mr. A. Franks Ryan was\nplaced on special duty with the force.\n_The Chitral Relief Force._\nIn the middle of March, 1895, a scheme was prepared for field\noperations in Chitral, the object of which was to compel Umra Khan of\nJandol to withdraw from the Chitral country, and the Director-General\nwas requested to make postal arrangements for the force, which\nconsisted of about 20,000 troops of all arms and about 30,000 camp\nfollowers. This was the largest force mobilized in India since the\nAfghan War of 1879, and the postal arrangements had therefore to be\nmade on a proportionately large scale. The expedition was titled \"The\nChitral Relief Force\" and was commanded by Major-General Sir Robert\nLow, K.C.B.\nOn the 18th March, 1895, Mr. P. Sheridan, Postmaster-General, Punjab,\nwas requested by the Director-General to arrange field post offices,\nand by the end of the month the postal staff, who were collected at\nNowshera, were in readiness to start. Mr. A. Franks Ryan was the\nsenior Superintendent in charge. In the early stages of the campaign\nconsiderable difficulty was experienced by the supervising officers\nin organizing lines for the conveyance of mails. Mule transport being\nvery limited, pack bullocks had to be used for the first few days, and\nwhen those were withdrawn a temporary runners' line had to be opened.\nInformation, however, was shortly received that the country was open\nas far as Durgai, a distance of forty-one miles from Nowshera, and\narrangements were made with Messrs. Dhanjibhoy to open a tonga line.\nOn the 30th March the force moved out to Mardan and the head-quarters\nfield post office went with it. On the 22nd April, 1895, information\nwas received that Colonel Kelly had succeeded in reducing the Chitral\nfort from the Gilgit side, and a further hasty advance of troops was\ntherefore no longer necessary. With the occupation of the Chitral\nterritory by the 3rd Brigade the expedition practically came to an end.\nThe Abbottabad Force was broken up on the 31st May, 1895.\n_Suakim Expedition, 1896._\nIn May, 1896, under orders from the Home Government, an Expeditionary\nForce, 3000 strong, was sent to Suakim under the command of\nBrigadier-General C. C. Egerton, C.B., D.S.O., and a field post office\nwas ordered to accompany it. The chief of the postal staff was Mr.\nBennett, who, however, did not hold the rank of Chief Superintendent\nas the Force was too small. It started on the 22nd May, 1896, and\narrived on the 1st June at Suakim, where the Base office was opened.\nSubsequently a sub-office was opened at Tokar, and the exchange of\nmails between this office and the Base office was carried on by camel\ndak twice a week. There was fortnightly communication between India and\nSuakim by Egyptian steamers, and parcel and letter mails were conveyed\nby these and by P. & O. steamers. The field post office was closed on\nthe 8th December, 1896.\n_The Malakand Field Force._\nOn the 31st July, 1897, the Adjutant-General in India forwarded to the\nDirector-General a scheme for operations in the Malakand country, and\nMr. P. Sheridan, Postmaster-General, Punjab and N.-W.F., was requested\nto make special postal arrangements for the force. Mr. H. C. Sheridan,\nAssistant Director-General of the Post Office, was placed in charge.\nBy the middle of August all the troops forming the 1st and 2nd Brigades\nwent across the Malakand to the Swat Valley. In the meantime, fresh\ntrouble having arisen round and about Peshawar, the Government of\nIndia issued orders for punitive operations against the Mohmands, who\nhad invaded British territory and attacked the village and fort of\nShabkadar, nineteen miles from Peshawar. Accordingly a strong force\nwas concentrated about the place, and Mr. C. A. Stowell was deputed\nto Peshawar to make special postal arrangements for this force. \"The\nMohmand Field Force,\" under Major-General Ellis, left Shabkadar on\nthe 15th September and returned to Peshawar on the 8th October, 1897.\nDuring the expedition a small force was sent to Abazai to guard the\nworks of the Swat Canal, and a field post office accompanied it.\nOn New Year's day of 1898 orders were issued for an advance to Buner,\nand the 2nd Brigade marched to Katlang, which was at once connected\nwith Mardan by an ekka service, later extended to Sanghao. There\nwere now two ekka services--one from Mardan to Rustam, a distance of\nnineteen miles, and the other from Mardan to Sanghao, a distance of\ntwenty-one miles. On the 9th January the name of the force was changed\nto the \"Buner Field Force.\" The postal arrangements for this force,\nwhich was not in existence for more than a fortnight, were in the hands\nof Mr. N. M. Cama, Superintendent of post offices.\nThe Malakand Field Force began to be demobilized on the 22nd January,\n1898, but only a small portion of the troops returned to India. The\nrest went forward and became part of the Swat garrison. In this\nexpedition arrangements were made for the first time for the sale\nof newspapers by field post offices, a service which was greatly\nappreciated. So efficient were the postal arrangements and the\nregularity of the tonga service that the mails to and from the front\ntravelled with a punctuality which would compare favourably with any\nlong-established line in India.\n_The Tirah Expedition._\nOn the 17th September, 1897, the Director-General was asked to make\narrangements for a postal service for the Expeditionary Force to be\nsent against the Afridi and Orakzai tribes on the Kohat and Peshawar\nfrontier. The Postmaster-General, Punjab and N.-W.F., Mr. P. Sheridan,\nwas immediately communicated with, and Mr. van Someren was appointed\nChief Postal Superintendent with the expedition.\nThe Base post office for the main force was at first situated at Kohat,\nand the Base office for the Peshawar column at Peshawar. When the\ntroops marched through Tirah and took up their position for the winter\nin the Bara Valley, the Khyber Pass and the neighbourhood of Peshawar,\nMessrs. Dhanjibhoy established two tonga services connecting Peshawar\nwith Bara and Jamrud, while beyond these places they arranged for the\ncarriage of mails by a horse post. The mail service for the Peshawar\ncolumn previous to this had been carried on by the Afridi horse\ncontractors, and as the roads were improved the tonga services were\nextended up to Landi Kotal in the Khyber Pass and Gandao in the Bara\nValley.\nThe postal arrangements lasted for a period of six months. On this\noccasion, too, the field post offices were specially authorized to sell\nnewspapers to the troops and were allowed a commission on the sales.\n_The Tochi Field Force._\nThe postal arrangements in connection with the Tochi Field Force lasted\nfor a period of about eight months, from July, 1897, to February, 1898.\nThe base of the operations was Bannu, which is 111 miles away from the\nrailway at Khushalgarh, and, as soon as it was known that a force was\nto be mobilized at Bannu, arrangements were made for the introduction\nof an efficient tonga service from Khushalgarh to that place and for\na proper railway connection between Golra and Khushalgarh. Between\nKhushalgarh and Kohat a feeble tonga service was already in existence\nunder the management of the District Board of Kohat, while for the\nlocal demands an ekka service had been established between Kohat and\nBannu. Neither of these lines could be relied upon to meet the special\nrequirements for mails and passengers caused by the expedition, and\nMr. Dhanjibhoy, the mail contractor of the Rawalpindi-Srinagar line,\nestablished a complete and efficient tonga service over the entire\ndistance.\nThe postal arrangements were carried out very satisfactorily. Mr. W.\nT. van Someren was in charge of the actual arrangements in the field\nfrom the beginning till September, 1897, when he was relieved by Mr. F.\nO'Byrne, who remained in charge during the remainder of the operations.\n_The Tochi Valley Field Force._\nAfter the breaking up of the Tochi Field Force in December, 1897,\nit was decided to retain in the valley a brigade of troops on field\nservice scale under the command of the General Officer Commanding,\nTochi. The troops were quartered in six military posts, and camp post\noffices were opened to serve them. During the Tochi Expedition there\nwas a tonga service between Edwardesabad and Bannu, but this having\nbeen discontinued a new arrangement had to be made for a tonga service\nwith Messrs. Dhanjibhoy and Sons for the conveyance of mails between\nKhushalgarh and Kohat and an ekka service between Edwardesabad and\nMiranshah and Datta Khel.\n_The Swat Valley Column._\nWhen the second division of the Tirah Force was demobilized it\nwas decided to retain a strong column in the Swat Valley to take\nup positions in Dir territory for the protection of the line of\ncommunications and the route of the relieving and relieved Chitral\nForce. The arrangement necessitated the opening of three field post\noffices from the 1st May, 1898, and from the same date the Swat\nSorting Office at Nowshera was strengthened. It was also decided to\nretain the services of a Superintendent to accompany the column up to\nDir territory and return with the relieved troops from Chitral.\nThe postal arrangements had to be maintained till the end of June, when\nthe column having been considerably reduced, two field offices were\nabolished and only one was retained till the 15th July, 1898.\n_The Mishmi Expedition._\nIn November, 1899, the Director-General was requested to open a\nfield branch post office at Bonjur and connect it by a runners' line\n(twenty-four miles long) with Sadiya, where there was a civil post\noffice. This place was made the base of operations of the Mishmi Field\nForce. About 200 military police and 1000 regular troops operated in\nthis expedition, which began in December, 1899, and ended in January,\n1900. The Bonjur office was opened on the 1st December, 1899, and\nclosed on the 9th February, 1900.\n_The China Expeditionary Force._\nAt the request of the Home Government, a force entitled \"The China\nExpeditionary Force\" was mobilized in India for service in China\nunder the command of General Sir A. Gaselee. The first intimation of\nthe despatch of the army was received on the 29th June, 1900. This,\nhowever, referred only to one brigade of troops of all arms; but on\nthe 25th June intimation was received that a force of two brigades\nwith divisional troops were under orders for China. The control of\nthe field postal arrangements was in the hands of Mr. Stewart-Wilson,\nPostmaster-General, Punjab, under whose orders the postal staff was\nmobilized and equipped. At first it was decided to fit out twelve\nfield post offices to accompany the force. Mr. W. T. van Someren was\nappointed Chief Superintendent, and Mr. A. Bean and Mr. A. B. Thompson\nwere selected to work under him.\nBy the end of August, 1900, the force in China was strengthened by a\ncavalry brigade, one infantry brigade and three large coolie corps,\nand the postal staff had to be supplemented. Thus by the end of the\nyear there were in China:\n   1 Chief Superintendent.\n   4 Superintendents.\n   4 Inspectors.\n   1 Postmaster.\n   2 Deputy Postmasters.\n  20 Sub-Postmasters.\n  53 Clerks.\n  76 Followers.\nOn the 29th June, 1900, a notification was issued regarding the\nconditions under which postal articles could be exchanged with the\nChina Expeditionary Force. The Indian Base office was at first opened\nat Linkung-tao (Wei Hai Wei), but was shortly transferred to Hongkong.\nArticles for the force were despatched by the steamers of the B.I.S.N.\nCompany, the Messageries Maritimes and also by the Opium steamers to\nHongkong. The Colonial post office at Hongkong had an arrangement with\nall merchant vessels binding them to carry mails as far as Shanghai,\nand owing to the courtesy of the Postmaster-General, Hongkong, this\nconcession was made use of to carry the mails of the Field Force.\nNorth of Shanghai the mails were carried by transports and men-o'-war.\nLater on the Chinese Imperial Postal Authorities carried our mails\nfrom Shanghai to Taku and back free of charge until the latter port\nwas closed by the winter ice. Another route had then to be chosen for\nthe North China mails, and once more we had to resort to the kindness\nof the Imperial Chinese Post Office, who agreed to supply transport\nfrom Chifu to Chaingwantao twice a week on condition that half the\ncost of the coal used should be paid. Thus the mails were conveyed\nfrom Hongkong to Shanghai, from Shanghai to Chifu and from Chifu to\nChaingwantao and thence to Tientsin. The chief postal land routes were\n(1) Taku to Pekin and (2) Tientsin to Shanhaikwan.\nDollar currency was used in the field offices, the rate of a dollar\nbeing fixed at 1s. 11d., equivalent to Rs.1.7.0. The first postal\ndetachment took with them a full supply of postage stamps, postcards,\netc., but it was found inadvisable to use them owing to the fact that\nit would be impossible to sell them at a price exactly equivalent to\nface value. At Hongkong the postal equivalent for 10 centimes, i.e.\n1 anna, is 4 cents. It followed, therefore, that twenty-five 1-anna\nstamps could be bought for a dollar and that the purchaser would be\nable to make 2 annas for every dollar spent on stamps, and it was\nfeared that advantage would be taken of this to buy up Indian stamps\nwholesale for remittance to India. The postage stamps were therefore\noverprinted with the letters \"C.E.F.,\" i.e. \"China Expeditionary\nForce,\" so that their use would be localized, and the surcharged\nstamps came into circulation about the middle of August, 1900. In\norder to confine the use of field offices to the members of the force,\norders were issued that our postage stamps should not be sold except\nto soldiers and officers in uniform. The rates of postage fixed for\nall purposes were those in force in India, the postage to India being\nreckoned at Indian inland rates.\nDifficulty had all along been felt in supplying postal facilities to\nthe small bodies of troops stationed at or near railway stations where\nthere were no post offices. Mr. van Someren removed this difficulty\nby introducing a combined Post and Railway Mail Service between Pekin\nand Taku and Tientsin and Shanhaikwan, a scheme which was a new one in\nthe history of the field postal service. Postal clerks had not only to\nsort letters in the trains, but also to receive and deliver letters\nand sell postage stamps at each railway station. By August, 1901,\nthere was a reduction of the number of troops in China and fourteen\nfield post offices were closed, the supervising staff being reduced\nto a Chief Superintendent and an inspecting postmaster in North China\nand a Superintendent and an inspecting postmaster at Hongkong. Mr. van\nSomeren left China on the 5th August, 1901, leaving Mr. Thompson in\ncharge.\nThis was the first occasion that a large postal establishment had to\nbe sent out with a military expedition overseas to a foreign country.\nThe force consisted of over 37,000 men stationed at various places\nfrom Shanghai to Taku and Taku to Pekin. The harmonious relations with\nthe Chinese Imperial Postal Administration and the material assistance\nwhich it rendered on every possible occasion greatly helped to the\nsuccess of the Indian Field Post Office administration in China.\n_The Somaliland Field Force._\nThe postal arrangements made to serve the Somaliland Field Force\nextended over a period of nearly two years from January, 1903, to\nNovember, 1904. Mr. Wynch, who was appointed Chief Superintendent,\nremained till June, 1904, when he was invalided and relieved by Mr.\nA. J. Hughes, who held charge until the end of the operations. The\nstrength of the force was 3000, and at first one base office and one\nfield post office, with one postmaster, five clerks and four packers,\nwere provided. Mails were exchanged between India and Somaliland by\nGovernment transports. The field post offices were closed on the 25th\nNovember, 1904.\n_The Tibet Mission._\nIn 1903 the Government of India decided to send a small force to escort\nthe Tibet Frontier Commission. At first a number of temporary post\noffices and lines were opened under the control of the Superintendent\nof post offices, Jalpaiguri Division, to serve the Mission, but it\nwas not until it was decided that the Mission should advance into the\nChumbi Valley that field post offices and lines were required. The\nMission was headed by Colonel Younghusband and the escort was commanded\nby General MacDonald, with Mr. H. Tulloch as Chief Superintendent.\nThe rapid development of field post offices necessitated the\nappointment of a second Superintendent, and Mr. A. Bean was deputed\nto field service. On the 6th January, 1904, Mr. Bean took over charge\nof the Base Division, but shortly after died of heart disease on the\n3rd March, 1904. The entire arrangements then devolved again on Mr.\nTulloch until the 1st April, 1904, when Mr. C. J. Dease took over\ncharge of the Base Division.\nThe Mission advanced on Gyantse on the 4th April. From Tuna to Gyantse\nthe mail arrangements were in the hands of the military authorities,\nand only one postal clerk, whose duty it was to distribute letters,\nwas sent up with the escort. The Mission reached Gyantse on the 14th\nMay, and a field post office had to be opened there and at several\nother places on the lines of communications. The force remained at\nLhassa from the 3rd August to the 23rd September and returned to\nGyantse on the 6th October, 1904. There was by this time at Gyantse\nan accumulation of over 1100 parcels addressed to the members of the\nLhassa column, but Mr. Angelo, who was then placed in charge of the\nadvance division, disposed of them in three days before the troops left\non their return march. The demobilization of the force began by the end\nof October, and the postal officials were ordered to leave Chumbi on\nthe 26th and to close the field post offices between Chumbi and Gangtok\non their way down. Mr. Tulloch relinquished charge of the F.P.O.'s on\nthe 28th November, 1904.\n_The Bazar Valley Field Force._\nThe postal arrangements made to serve the Bazar Valley Field Force\nextended over a period of twenty-five days, from the 13th February\nto the 8th March, 1908. On the night of the 12th February the Chief\nof the Staff informed the Postmaster, Peshawar, that the force would\nleave the station the next morning. A base office, four first-class\nfield post offices and three second-class field post offices were\nsent to the front, and on receipt of the scheme for the organization\nand mobilization of the force on the 14th February this establishment\nwas reduced considerably. The work of the field post offices on this\noccasion was limited almost entirely to the disposal of articles of the\nletter and packet mails.\n_The Mohmand Field Force._\nThe postal arrangements made to serve the Mohmand Field Force extended\nover a period of thirty-eight days, from the 28th April to the 4th\nJune, 1908. The first intimation that an expedition would take place\nwas received on the 23rd April, and the Postmaster-General, Punjab and\nN.-W.F., was at once directed to make all arrangements to serve the\ntroops that were concentrating on the frontier. Mr. McMinn, who was\nChief Superintendent of post offices with the Bazar Valley Field Force,\nwas placed in charge.\n_The Abor Expeditionary Force, 1911-12._\nThe postal arrangements made to serve the Abor Expeditionary Force\nextended over a period of about one year, from May, 1911, to May,\n1912. A temporary post office was first opened on the 15th May, 1911,\nat Saikwaghat, a terminus of the Dibru-Sadiyah Railway, to serve the\ntroops making preparations there for the expedition. The office was\nunder the control of the Superintendent of post offices, Upper Assam\nDivision. It was not until September, 1911, when the force advanced\ntowards Kobo, that the Department was called upon to organize a field\npostal service. The arrangements were placed under the control of the\nPostmaster-General, Eastern Bengal and Assam, and for the supervision\nof the work in the field Mr. A. J. Faichnie, Superintendent of post\noffices, Upper Assam Division, was, in addition to his own duties,\nappointed Superintendent of Field Post Offices, assisted by an\ninspector.\nAPPENDIX J\nTHE POST OFFICE INSURANCE FUND\nThe suggestion to establish a State Life Assurance was first made in\n1872 by Sir Richard Temple, the Finance Member of Council. After a\ngreat deal of discussion it was dropped in 1873, but was revived again\nin 1881 by Mr. Hogg, the Director-General of the Post Office, when it\nwas accepted by the Viceroy's Council and finally by the Secretary of\nState.\nThe principal features of the scheme which was actually introduced on\nthe 1st February, 1884, were:\n  (1) For the time the Fund was confined to the employ\u00e9s of the Post\n      Office.\n  (2) Provision was made for effecting life insurance in three ways,\n        (i) By a single payment.\n       (ii) By monthly payments until the person insured attained the\n      (iii) By monthly payments during life.\n  (3) Provision was also made for two classes of monthly allowances, viz.\n  \"Immediate\" or \"Deferred.\"\n  (4) One life could be insured for any sum which was a multiple of Rs.50\n  up to the total of Rs.4,000, and the monthly allowance granted on any\n  one life might consist of any sum which was a multiple of Rs.8 up to\n  the limit of Rs.50.\n  (5) Medical examination of proposers for insurance was made free.\n  (6) Arrangements were made for the deduction of the monthly premia from\n  the insured person's salary except the first premium or premium paid\n  during leave without pay.\n  (7) Policies and contracts issued under the scheme were exempt from\n  stamp duty.\nThe scheme worked smoothly, and, taking into consideration that many\nemploy\u00e9s of the Post Office are poorly paid officials, a fair measure\nof success was attained during the first few years except in the\nMonthly Allowance branch and in the system of Life Insurance by single\npayment. The following figures show the proportion of officials who\navailed themselves of insurance during the first three years:--\n  1884-85       1\u00b705% of the whole Post Office establishment.\nIn 1887 the rule under which one-half surrender value could be allowed\non all policies and contracts when payment had been discontinued was\nmodified so as to exclude from this privilege policies and contracts\non which three years' premia or subscriptions had not been paid. In\nSeptember, 1887, the Fund was opened to the Telegraph Department,\nand in 1895 to employ\u00e9s of the Indo-European Telegraphs and to women\nemployed in all the departments.\nWith effect from the 1st February, 1898, the benefits of the scheme\nwere extended generally to all permanent Government servants whose pay\nwas audited in Civil or Public Works Account offices and all members of\nestablishments of the Military Department, under audit of the Military\nAccount offices, who were subject to Civil rules. From the same date a\nsystem of Endowment Assurances providing for payment at any age between\n45 and 55 was introduced. With this general extension of the scheme it\nwas decided that the medical examination of proposers for insurance\nshould be more stringent and that medical officers, who had until then\nbeen examining proposers for insurance free of any charge, should be\nallowed a fee of Rs.4 for each examination, as their insurance work\nwould be substantially increased. In the same year (1898) the system of\nLife Insurance by a single payment which had proved to be a failure,\nwas abolished.\nIn 1899, Temporary Engineers and Temporary Upper Subordinates of the\nPublic Works Department were allowed by Government to be admissible to\nthe benefits of the Fund, provided that the Chief Engineer declared\nthat they were eligible for admission. In 1903 it was extended to\npermanent Government servants in foreign service in India, and in the\nsame year Life Insurance policies were allowed to be converted into\nEndowment Assurance policies.\nIn 1904, the following relaxations of the rules were sanctioned with a\nview to meet the convenience of Government servants.\n  (1) Insured persons who had retired from the service and whose\n  pensions were paid in India were allowed the option of deducting their\n  premia or subscriptions from their pension bills instead of being\n  compelled to pay them in cash at a post office.\n  (2) When there was any difficulty in the way of a proposal being\n  signed by the proposer in the presence of his immediate superior,\n  this duty might, with the permission of the Postmaster-General,\n  be performed in the presence of the local postmaster or any other\n  responsible officer who had to sign the certificate.\n  (3) The table of subscriptions for \"Immediate Monthly Allowance,\"\n  which contained rates up to the age of sixty, was extended so as to\n  provide for contracts with persons above that age.\nIn the same year the benefits of the Fund were extended to Temporary\nLower Subordinates, clerks of the Public Works Department and to clerks\nof the Punjab University on the same conditions as to Temporary\nEngineers and Temporary Upper Subordinates.\nThe year 1907 witnessed several important changes in the Post Office\nInsurance Fund made on the recommendation of the Government Actuary.\nThese were:\n  (1) That the sums eventually payable in respect of policies in\n  existence on 31st March, 1907, in the Life Branch of the Fund were\n  increased by 10 per cent and that the premia payable in respect of\n  sums assured in that branch after that date would be correspondingly\n  reduced. The rates of premia for Life Insurance were revised\n  accordingly.\n  (2) That a life policy, with monthly payments payable till death,\n  was allowed to be converted into a life policy with monthly payments\n  payable to a specified age or into a fully paid up policy payable at\n  death.\n  (3) That an endowment policy might be converted into a paid-up policy\n  payable at some anterior date or at death, if earlier.\n  (4) That insurants could reduce their monthly premia to any desired\n  extent from any specified date.\n  (5) That when a policy of either class was surrendered the policy\n  holder should be given the full surrender value which on an actuarial\n  calculation could be paid without loss to the Fund, instead of half\n  that amount as hitherto given.\n  (6) That the surrender value of a lapsed policy was payable at any\n  time after default, on application being made for the same.\n  (7) That the period up to which payment of arrears of premium or\n  subscription was allowed for the revival of a policy of less than\n  three years' duration was extended from three to six months.\nThe tables of premia, introduced at the time the Fund was started,\nas already stated, were calculated on the mortality rates which had\nbeen deduced from the experience of the Uncovenanted Service Family\nPension Fund, Bengal--a Fund which was confined to Europeans resident\nin India--there being no more reliable mortality statistics available\nfor the purpose at the time. In 1909 the India Office Actuary, in his\nreview on the operations of the Fund for the year 1907-08, noticed\nthat, in view of the rapid growth of the scheme, it was necessary to\nrevise the tables according to more accurate mortality statistics. In\nhis review on the work of the Fund for 1908-09 the Actuary asked for\ndetailed particulars of all the policies issued by the Fund since its\ninstitution in the form of statements, in order to enable him to deduce\ntherefrom the necessary mortality rates, and thus prepare fresh tables\nof premia. These statistics were submitted with the Director-General's\nAnnual Report on the operations of the Fund for the year 1910-11.\nIn the meantime it was brought to notice in 1909 that, under the\nexisting method of calculating surrender values of Life policies, the\nvalues in certain cases were found on calculation to be considerably\nin excess of the total amount of premia paid on the policies. Taking\nadvantage of this, insurants began to surrender their policies in\nlarge numbers. The matter was referred to the Secretary of State. As\na result, the Actuary at the India Office forwarded revised tables\nfor the calculation of surrender values of Life policies, to be used\nuntil the general revision of the Mortality tables and of the tables of\npremia, which had been under contemplation, was effected. In 1909 an\nimportant concession was sanctioned regarding the payment of premia by\ninsured persons while on leave or suspension or when retiring. It was\nlaid down that an insured person should not be considered as in arrears\nof premium or subscription for any month so long as he has not drawn\nany pay, pension or suspension allowance.\nIn 1910, with a view to afford greater facilities to the lower grades\nof postal servants to insure their lives and to popularize the Fund,\nsanction was obtained to grant to these officials from the Post Office\nGuarantee Fund travelling expenses actually incurred by them in their\njourney for examination by the medical officer for insurance, provided\nthe proposer actually took out a policy and paid the premium for not\nless than twelve months. In 1912 Mr. Ackland, the Actuary at the India\nOffice, made a thorough investigation into the past experience of the\nFund from the statistics furnished to him. He drew up a report showing\nthe results of the investigation and prepared fresh tables of mortality\nstatistics, as well as new tables of premia for both Life Insurance and\nEndowment Assurance. He also prepared new formul\u00e6 for the calculation\nof paid-up policies, surrender values, etc., and recommended the\nfollowing further concessions and changes:--\n  (1) The grant to all policy holders on the 31st March, 1912 (the\n  valuation date), of a bonus at the rate of 2 per cent per annum in\n  the case of Whole Life Assurances, and at 1 per cent in the case of\n  Endowment Assurances in respect of each month's premium paid since\n  31st March, 1907, up to 31st March, 1912.\n  (2) The grant of an interim bonus at half of the above rates in\n  respect of the premiums paid since 31st March, 1912, in the case of\n  policies which became claims by death or survivance between 1st April,\n  1912, and 31st March, 1917, provided that premiums have been paid for\n  at least five years and up to date of death or survivance.\n  (3) \"Age next birthday\" should be taken as the age at entry for all\n  classes of Assurances.\n  (4) An integral number of years' premia should be charged on Endowment\n  Assurance policies and Life policies with limited payments.\n  (5) Transfers from the Whole Life to the Endowment Assurance class or\n  vice versa should be allowed only after any number of complete years'\n  premia have been paid.\n  (6) When surrender values were granted in the Monthly Allowance class,\n  medical examination at the policy holder's expense should be insisted\n  on and payment should in no case exceed 95 per cent of the present\n  value of the monthly allowance.\n  (7) Policy holders should be allowed to commute future premia by\n  payment either of a lump sum or of an increased monthly premium\n  ceasing at age 50 or 55.\n  (8) Transfers from the Endowment Assurance to the Whole Life\n  class should be allowed only on the production of a fresh medical\n  certificate obtained at the policy holder's expense.\n  (9) The valuations of the Fund should be made at quinquennial\n  intervals.\nIt was also decided that, as an Actuary had been appointed by the\nGovernment of India, all questions relating to the administration of\nthe Fund, as well as future valuations of the Fund, might be dealt with\nby that officer instead of being submitted to the Secretary of State.\n  Abolition of District Post, 20\n  Abolition of Sea Post Office, 135\n  Abolition of unpaid postcards, 7\n  Abor Expedition, 1894, 220\n  Abor Expeditionary Force, 1911-12, 231\n  Abyssinian Expedition, 210\n  Accounts, Postal, 36\n  Act, Post Office. _See_ Post Office Act\n  Address, Forms of, 89, 98\n  Aden, Military operations in neighbourhood of, 175\n  Aden, Transhipment of mails at, 130, 133\n  Admiralty Agents, 127, 129, 130\n  Afghanistan Expedition, 168, 211\n  Anchel, The, 112\n  Aviation, 125\n  Bagdad Railway, 148, 149\n  Baku, Field service in, 174\n  Bank, Savings, 81\n  Base Postal Depot, 175\n  Bazar Valley Field Force, 230\n  Beadon, Mr., 21\n  \"Bearing\" correspondence, 7, 25, 34, 158, 160\n  Black Hole of Calcutta, 108, 200\n  Black Mountain Expedition, 217\n  Black Mountain or Hazara Field Force, 215\n  Bombay G.P.O. building, 108\n  Bombay Regulation XI of 1830, 26\n  Branch office, 4\n  Brindisi as European port for Indian mails, 124, 182\n  British India Steam Navigation Company, 138, 142\n  British Mission Escort in South Persia, 175\n  British postal orders, 42\n  Buildings, Post Office, 106\n  Bullock train, 154, 168, 196\n  Buner Field Force, 223\n  Bungalows, Dak or Travellers', 17, 196\n  Burlton, Mr. S. P., 14\n  Burma, Chin Expedition, 215\n  Bushire Force, 174\n  Calcutta, Black Hole of, 108, 200\n  Calcutta G.P.O. building, 108, 200\n  Camel dak, 209\n  Cape route to India, The, 118, 123\n  Cash certificates, Five-year, 87\n  Cash on Delivery system, 40, 46, 50, 51\n  Caste, 101\n  Centres, Delivery, 102\n  Chin Expedition, Burma, 215\n  Chin Hills Expedition, 218\n  Chin Lushai Expedition, 216\n  China Expeditionary Force, 226\n  Chitral Relief Force, 221\n  \"Clubbing,\" 24\n  Combined post and telegraph offices, Introduction of, 41\n  Compiler of Post Office Accounts, 36, 72\n  Compulsory prepayment of postage in all cases, Rejection of, 25\n  Constantinople, Field service in, 174\n  Construction and maintenance of postal vans, 63\n  Consultations of 24th March, 1766, Minutes of, 12\n  Consultations of 17th January, 1774, Extract from, 191\n  Continuous delivery system, 103\n  Control of the Department, 2, 30, 31\n  Conventions with Indian States, 114\n  Copper tickets, or tokens for postal purposes, 14, 178, 194\n  Cost of carrying mails on railways, 62\n  Counterfeit stamps, 39, 42\n  Courtney, Mr., 21\n  Crises in the Savings Bank, 84\n  Custom-House, Turkish, at Bagdad and Basra, 140, 146\n  Customs regulations, 36\n  Cyprus, 211\n  Dak bungalows, 17, 196\n  Dak system, 195\n  Dead Letter Office, 26\n  Delivery centres, 102\n  Delivery of mails, 102\n  Delivery system, Continuous, 103\n  Department, Control of the, 2, 30, 31\n  Department, never regarded as revenue-producing, 9, 22\n  Department, Organization of the, 3, 30, 31\n  Depot, Base Postal, 175\n  Deputy Postmaster, 155, 193\n  Direction, Organization of the, 2\n  Director-General of the Post Office, First, 36\n  Distance, Uniformity of postage irrespective of, 24, 32, 39, 49\n  District dawk stamps, Scinde, 31, 178\n  District Post, 16, 17\n  District Post, Abolition of, 20\n  District Savings Banks, 81\n  Dromedary post, 137, 139\n  Early Postal Regulations, 26\n  East Africa, Field service in, 174\n  East Persian Cordon, 174\n  Egypt during the Great War, Field service in, 171, 173\n  Egypt Expeditionary Force, 212\n  Encouragement of prepayment of postage, 34\n  England, Parcel post with, 39, 50\n  Euphrates and Tigris Steam Navigation Company, 138, 142, 144\n  European port for reception and despatch of Indian mails, 124, 182\n  Experimental post offices, 20, 96\n  Ferry charges upon Railway steamers, 63, 65\n  Field Post Office, The, 165\n  Field post offices, 166\n  Field Service Manual, 166\n  Field service, Military rank on, 166\n  Field service uniform, 166\n  Fines incurred under Post Office Acts, 29\n  Fining, 37\n  First appointment of a Postmaster-General, 14\n  First Director-General of the Post Office, 36\n  Five-year cash certificates, 87\n  Forbes, Mr., 21\n  Force in East Persia, 174\n  Foreign money orders, 73\n  Foreign parcel post, 51\n  France, Field service in, 171\n  Franking, 35\n  Free postage, Abolition of privilege of, 35\n  Free postage, Grant of privilege of, to certain persons, 27\n  Gallipoli, Field service in, 173\n  Great War, Effect of, upon savings bank balances, 87\n  Guarantee Fund, Post Office, 236\n  Haulage charges, 60, 67\n  Hazara Field Force, Black Mountain or, 215\n  Head Office, 3\n  Horse transit and bullock train, 153, 168, 196, 206\n  Identification of payees of money orders, 79, 99\n  Imperial Penny Postage Scheme, 40\n  Imported and locally produced printed matter, Differentiation between, 32, 38\n  Indian Convention States, 114, 185\n  Indian Mutiny, The Post Office during the, 151, 167, 196, 204\n  Indian States, The Post Office in, 112\n  Insurance fee, 41\n  Insurance system in the Persian Gulf and Turkish Arabia, 141\n  Introduction of first regular postal system by Lord Clive, 12\n  Introduction of postage stamps, 31, 32, 178, 179\n  Introduction of postcards, 7\n  Introduction of railways, 30\n  Isazai Field Force, 219\n  Kalahandi Expedition, 212\n  Kurram Field Force, 219\n  Land revenue money orders, 75\n  Later Postal Regulations, 38\n  Letter-writers, Professional, 94\n  Life Insurance policies, Surrender values of, 236\n  Life Insurance, Postal, 42, 232\n  Loan, War, 87\n  Lord Clive, Regular postal system introduced by, 12\n  Lushai Expedition, 216\n  Mail runner, 4\n  Malakand Field Force, 222\n  Malta Expeditionary Force, 211\n  Malwa Field Force, 156\n  Manipur Expedition, 218\n  Manual, Post Office, 2, 36\n  Manual (War), Postal, 166\n  Marine Postal Service, Suez and Bombay, 130\n  Marseilles as European port for Indian mails, 124, 182\n  Mesopotamia and the Persian Gulf, The Post Office in, 137\n  Mesopotamia, Field service in, 171\n  Methods of travel in early days, 195\n  Military pensioners, Payment of, 42\n  Military rank on field service, 166\n  Minors' accounts, 86\n  Minutes of Consultations of 24th March, 1766, 12\n  Miranzai Expedition, 218\n  Mishmi Expedition, 226\n  Mohmand Field Force, 1897, 223\n  Mohmand Field Force, 1908, 231\n  Money order work transferred to Post Office, 41, 71\n  Money orders, 71\n  Money orders, Foreign, 73\n  Money orders, Inland, Statement of issues since 1880, 198\n  Money orders, Land revenue, 75\n  Money orders, Rent, 76\n  Money orders, Telegraphic, 74, 77\n  Monopoly, Postal, 26, 31\n  Mosul, Turkish post to Constantinople via, 139\n  Mounted post, First employment of, 11\n  Mutiny, The Post Office during the Indian, 151, 167, 196, 204\n  Newspapers, Registered, 43\n  Newspapers, Sale of, by field post offices, 223, 224\n  Non-postal work, 9\n  Octroi Tax, 53\n  Official articles, Special postage rates for, 40\n  Official marks of the Post Office, Acceptance of, as evidence, 43\n  Organization of the Department, 3, 30, 31\n  Organization of the Direction, 2\n  Origin of the Post Office, 10\n  Overland Route, The, 119, 137\n  Overprinted postage stamps, 115, 148, 182, 184, 228\n  Overprinted Turkish postage stamps, 148\n  Overprints, Indian Convention States, 115, 185\n  Overseer, 99, 166\n  Palestine, Field service in, 173\n  Parcel post, 48\n  Parcel post, Foreign, 51\n  Parcel post rates, Statement of, 55\n  Parcel post with England, 39, 50\n  Parcels and packets liable to be detained, 43\n  Payment of money orders at houses of payees, 77, 99\n  Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company,\n    Charter of incorporation of, 123, 127\n  Penjdeh Affair, 84\n  Penny Postage Scheme, Imperial, 40\n  Persian Expedition, 167\n  Persian Gulf and Turkish Arabia, Insurance system in the, 141\n  Persian Gulf, The Post Office in Mesopotamia and the, 137\n  Personnel of the Post Office, 189\n  Phulkian States, Conventions with, 114\n  Pishin Field Force, 214\n  Polymetrical tables, 33\n  Post, District, 16, 17\n  Post, District, Abolition of, 20\n  Post Office Act--\n  Post Office, Branch, 4, 94\n  Post Office buildings, 106\n  Post Office, Experimental, 20, 96\n  Post Office, Field, 166\n  Post Office, Head, 3\n  Post Office Manual, 2, 36\n  Post Office, Origin of, 10\n  Post Office, Sub, 3\n  Post Office, Travelling, 58\n  Post free, Grant to certain persons of privilege of sending and\n    receiving correspondence, 27\n  Postage rates, 28, 38, 55\n  Postage stamps, Introduction of, 31, 32, 178, 179\n  Postal Life Insurance, 42\n  Postal Manual (War), 166\n  Postcards, Abolition of unpaid, 7\n  Postcards, Introduction of, 7\n  Postcards, Unpaid, 7\n  Postman, 97\n  Postman, Village or rural, 4, 94, 100\n  Postmaster, Deputy, 155, 193\n  Postmaster, Probationary, 190\n  Postmaster-General, First appointment of, 14, 193\n  Prepayment of postage, Encouragement of, 34\n  Prepayment of postage in all cases, Compulsory, Rejection of, 25\n  Presidency Postmaster, 16, 30, 31\n  Private posts, 17\n  Probationary Postmaster, 190\n  Probationary Superintendent, 189\n  Professional letter-writers, 94\n  Public Proceedings of 7th July, 1766, Extract from, 13\n  Quinine, Sale of, 4, 96\n  Railway Conference Association, 49, 67\n  Railway Mail Service, 58\n  Railways, Introduction of, 30\n  Rates of postage, 28, 38, 55\n  Receipt stamp, Abolition of special, 183\n  Redirected letters, Abolition of charge on, 39\n  Registered newspapers, 43\n  Registration, 35\n  Registration fee to be prepaid in postage stamps, 39\n  Regular postal system introduced by Lord Clive, 12\n  Regulations, Early Postal, 26\n  Regulations, Later Postal, 38\n  Rent money orders, 76\n  Rented buildings for post offices, 106, 110\n  Returned Letter Office at Basra, 172\n  Revenue-producing, Department never regarded as, 9, 22\n  Runner, Mail, 4\n  Rural postman, 4, 94, 100\n  Russian Scare, 84\n  Salonika, Field service in, 173\n  Savings bank, 81\n  Savings bank balances, Effect of Great War upon, 87\n  Savings bank, statement showing work from 1882 to 1918, 197\n  Savings bank work transferred to Post Office, 41, 82\n  Scinde District Dawk stamps, 31, 178\n  Sea Customs Act, 43\n  Sea Post Office, 127\n  Sea Post Office, Abolition of, 135\n  Seamen's letters, Soldiers' and, 40, 181\n  Service stamps, 35, 40, 184\n  Ship postage, 26, 34, 37\n  Sikkim Expedition, 214\n  \"Snowball\" system, Sale of goods on the, 53\n  Soldiers' and seamens' letters, 40, 181\n  Somaliland Field Force, 229\n  Sorting, Concentration of, 69\n  Sorting offices, Introduction of, 37, 58\n  South Persia, British Mission Escort in, 175\n  Southampton route, 123, 124\n  Special postage rates for official articles, 40\n  Stamps, Employment of postage stamps in place of telegraph, 183\n  Stamps, Overprinted or surcharged postage, 115, 148, 182, 184, 228\n  Stamps, Service, 35, 40, 184\n  Standard vans, 61\n  Suakim Expedition, 1896, 222\n  Suakim Field Post Office, 1885, 213\n  Sub-office, 3\n  Suez Canal, Opening of, 124\n  Suez Canal route, Future of, 125\n  Superintendent, 189\n  Superintendent, Probationary, 189\n  Suppression of foreign post offices in Ottoman dominions,\n    Turkish demand for, 139, 147\n  Surcharged postage stamps, 182, 184\n  Surrender values of Life Insurance policies, 236\n  Swat Valley Column, 225\n  Taylor, Captain, 17\n  Telegraph stamps, Employment of postage stamps in place of, 183\n  Telegraphic money orders, 74, 77\n  Thuillier, General Sir Henry, 179, 181\n  Tibet Mission, 229\n  Tirah Expedition, 224\n  Tochi Field Force, 224\n  Tochi Valley Field Force, 225\n  Transhipment of mails at Aden, 130, 133\n  Travel in early days, Methods of, 195\n  Travellers' bungalows, 17, 196\n  Travelling post office, 58\n  Turkish Arabia, Insurance system in the Persian Gulf and, 141\n  Turkish Customs House at Bagdad and Basra, 140, 146\n  Turkish post to Constantinople via Mosul, 139\n  Turkish postage stamps overprinted, 148\n  Unification of Indian State Posts with the Imperial Post Office, 115\n  Uniform, Field service, 166\n  Uniform, Postmen's, 104\n  Uniformity of postage irrespective of distance, 24, 32, 39, 49\n  Unpaid correspondence, 7, 25, 34, 158, 160\n  Upper Burma Expedition, 213\n  Value-payable system, 40, 46, 50, 51\n  Vans, Construction and maintenance of postal, 63, 66\n  Vans, Standard, 61\n  Village postman, 4, 94, 100\n  Waghorn, Lieutenant Thomas, 122\n  Wano Expedition, 220\n  War Loan, 87\n  Watermarks, 180, 182\n  Waziristan Field Force, 220\n  Wuntho Expedition, 219\n  Zhob Expedition, 217\nTranscriber's Notes\nObvious punctuation errors repaired.\nHyphen removed: missending (p. 69), upcountry (p. 30).\np. 25: \"addresses\" changed to \"addressees\" (read by the addressees).\np. 55: Last column of third row of table changed from \"41\" to \"14\".\np. 91: \"seldoms\" changed to \"seldom\" (He seldom knows English).\np. 205: \"Bolundshahur\" changed to \"Bulundshahur\" (although Bulundshahur\nand a large portion of Allyghur).", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Post Office of India and Its Story\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\n[Illustration: _Blake made a lightning snatch at a tentacle with both\nhands._]\nZehru of Xollar\nBy Hal K. Wells\n  Three Earthlings are whisked on an\n inter-dimensional journey to the den\n      of the Scientist Zehru.\nWhen the rolling thunder of infra-bass first came to their ears, Robert\nBlake and Helen Lawton were standing on the platform of a New York\nsubway station waiting for the arrival of an uptown express to bear them\nto their homes.\nThey made a strikingly attractive couple as they stood there. New York\nhad not had time as yet to remove the bronze tan of an outdoor life from\nBlake's ruggedly good-looking face. His tall athletic figure was still\nconspicuous for the lithe strength that had made him an All-Western\ntackle less than two years ago.\nStanding beside Blake's husky figure, Helen Lawton looked like a tiny,\nvery perfect, blonde doll, with an exquisitely molded face framed in\ncurly bobbed hair that was the clear golden-amber hue of orange honey.\nThere was a diamond sparkling on the ring finger of the girl's slim left\nhand, placed there by Blake.\nIt was well after midnight, and the only other passenger waiting on the\nstation was a burly chap leaning against one of the white pillars on the\nother side of the platform. After a casual glance at the fellow, with\nhis derby hat shoved far back from a low forehead, his blatantly\nconspicuous clothing, and the suspicious bulge under one arm-pit, Blake\nhad mentally set him down as a minor gangster, probably a strong-arm man\nfor some beer mob.\nBlake and Helen had been standing there but a few minutes when the\nstrange sound first became audible. For a moment Blake thought it was\nmerely the rumbling roar of an express approaching far down the tunnel.\nThen he realized that no subway train could possibly produce a sound\neffect so oddly disturbing and strangely alien.\nIt was like no sound that Blake had ever heard before. Vibrant with\ncolossal power, it suggested a sustained note struck from a giant organ,\na note so low in pitch that it seemed a full octave below the lowest\nbass note ever struck. Whatever it was, the thundering vibration of\ninfra-bass was coming nearer with startling swiftness.\nIt was impossible to locate the source of the mighty pulsing note. It\nseemed to be coming simultaneously from all directions, like a great\nhollow sphere of invisible sound waves closing in with the station\nplatform as its central focal point.\nHelen's face was white with dread as she shrank closer into Blake's\nembrace. Blake noted that the gangster across the platform was standing\ntensely at bay with his back against the pillar and his right hand\nthrust under his coat as he stared wildly about him in an effort to\ndiscover the cause of the disturbance.\nThe rolling thunder closed in upon them with a final rush that brought\nit so near that their very bodies seemed to vibrate in harmony with that\nmighty note of shuddering bass. Then with startling abruptness the green\nnet came.\nOut from the walls and down from the roof spurted scores of quivering\nribbons of blinding green flame. Swiftly the radiant tendrils rushed in\nupon the shrinking three from every side, while the infra-bass thundered\nin mighty crescendo.\nBlake instinctively swept Helen close within the shelter of his arms in\nan effort to protect her with his own body against the searing menace of\nthose onrushing green flames. The next moment the fiery ribbons were\nupon them, lashing about their bodies, crossing and crisscrossing in the\nair above and around them in a great tangled web of interlacing lines of\nflame that filled the entire platform.\nWith a shock of relief Blake found that there was no heat in those\nstrange flames, but his relief was short-lived as the next second\nbrought him realization of the real menace of the radiant ribbons. There\nwas a solidity and strength in those glowing streamers that held them as\nhelplessly captive as though they were gripped in ribbons of steel.\nDazed and helpless, the three struggled for a moment in the meshes of\nthe weird net of flame like fish caught in the strands of some giant\ncosmic seine.\nThe trembling thunder of infra-bass abruptly changed to a thin whining\nnote so high in pitch that it seemed the nearly soundless ghost of a\nmetallic scream. With the change in sound Blake became aware of a new\nand astounding change in his surroundings.\nThe walls and roof of the station seemed closing in upon him as though\nhe were growing in size at an incredible rate. The next moment he shot\nthrough the roof, hurtling on and upward with the velocity of a rocket.\nThe sensation was one that his reeling brain could not even grasp. His\nbody seemed to be inside every stone, iron bar, and lump of earth, yet\nat the same time every exterior object seemed _within_ his body. It was\nan eery chaos of a dozen different dimensions blending to form a Space\nin which there was no known dimension.\nAs they flashed on out to the surface Blake had one hazy glimpse of\nManhattan's glowing lights spread all about them. Then the speed of\ntheir progress leaped into a new and terrible acceleration that blotted\nout every tangible sensation from Blake's brain.\nTime and Space alike seemed to vanish as their hurtling flight sent them\nrocketing on for distances inconceivably vast through a bleak and\nappalling Nothingness, where neither sight nor sound existed.\nThen abruptly the speed of their flight seemed to be lessening.\nSensation returned to Blake. He again heard the thin high-pitched\nmetallic wail, now swiftly deepening to the familiar growl of rolling\nbass. He again noted the presence of the glowing green ribbons of the\nnet that still encircled them.\nA blindingly brilliant purple mist was now closing in upon them from\nevery direction, bringing with it a nameless and agonizing force that\nseemed to be shaking the very atoms in Blake's body asunder. Then they\ndropped swiftly down out of the purple mists, and the strange agony at\nonce vanished. Blake felt their downward progress come to an end with\nthe gentle arrival of his feet upon firm ground.\nThe encircling net of green flame glowed dazzlingly brighter for a brief\nmoment, then swiftly vanished into thin air, while the mutter of bass\nvibrations simultaneously died away into silence. Blake staggered and\nnearly fell as the sudden release from the net's strands again left his\nbody free.\nHe looked down at Helen as she stood huddled close beside him, still in\nthe shelter of his arms. The girl's face was white with terror as she\nlooked back up at him.\n\"Bob, what happened--and where on earth are we?\" Her voice trembled a\nlittle in spite of her plucky effort to keep it steady.\nBlake's bewildered gaze was already roving around them trying to\ncomprehend the incredible details of their surroundings. \"I've no idea\nwhat happened, dear,\" he answered slowly. \"As to where we are now, I'm\nvery much afraid it's nowhere on Earth!\"\n\"Then where is this hopped-up layout anyway, fellah, if it ain't on\nEarth?\" broke in a voice with a decided East Side twang. Blake quickly\nturned and saw that the gangster had remained with them in that eery\nflight in the green net. There was an expression of dumfounded amazement\nupon the man's heavy face, and he was obviously anxious to be friendly\nwith the two who now represented the only link with the familiar world\nhe had known.\n\"Gee, for a minute I thought they had me on the spot in some new way,\nsure!\" he chattered excitedly as he came quickly over to join Helen and\nBlake. \"There's plenty of guys wantin' to turn the heat on me there in\nthe Big Town. I'm Gil Mapes, see? But this ain't no frame-up like any I\never heard of. What happened anyway, fellah?\"\nFor the moment Blake did not answer. The three of them were silent as\nthey stared about them with eyes that were dazed by the startlingly\nunfamiliar aspect of every detail in their surroundings.\nFrom the twin purple suns that blazed down through the tenuous mists\noverhead to the barren blue-gray ground underfoot, there was not a\nsingle object familiar to Earthly eyes. The huge enclosure in which the\nthree of them stood was obviously the work of intelligent beings of some\nkind, but its mechanical details were products of a science different\nfrom any known to Blake.\nThe purpose of the enclosure seemed to be to maintain an area of clear\nair in the midst of the swirling purple vapors that pressed in against\nit from the top and from every side. In shape it was a great oblong\ncell, some fifty feet high, two hundred yards long, and about one\nhundred yards wide. The three captives stood near the center.\nFencing in the enclosure at twenty-yard intervals and reaching upward to\nthe ceiling were slender posts of some lusterless black metal. Between\nthese posts streamed unbroken, nearly transparent sheets of some unknown\nforce, the only visible sign of which was the presence of countless\nmillions of tiny shimmering golden flecks which danced like dust motes\nin a ray of sunlight. It was obviously this thin sheet of unknown force\nthat was keeping the purple mists at bay, for fan-like antennae at the\ntop of each post spread a similar shimmering sheet that formed a ceiling\nfor the clear-aired area.\nThe three Earthlings were facing one of the side walls of the big\nenclosures. The purple mists outside made it hard to see clearly for\nany distance, but Blake had an impression that the surrounding terrain\nwas featured by the same barren, nearly desert bleakness that\ncharacterized the interior of the enclosure, where scattered clumps of\ndead, spiky black branches of shrub-like vegetation were the only sign\nof plant life.\nJust within the distant end wall at their right there was a low platform\nsurmounted by a wide arch some ten feet in height, both constructed of\nsilver-colored metal. There was nothing between them and the end wall to\ntheir left, but they could see that the ground sloped sharply upward\nfrom the barrier-sheet, and on the crest of the ridge a gigantic\ncone-shaped structure of solid black could be seen dimly through the\nintervening mists.\nThe cone-building seemed to be the source of the power that kept the\nenclosure intact. Slender cables of black metal ran down the slope from\nit into the clear-aired space, spreading out over the dusty gray-blue\nground to the base of each of the tall posts, with a heavier\ncopper-colored cable running on the silver arch. From within the\nwindowless interior of the cone there was audible a low hum as of\ntremendous power being generated there.\n\"Gee, what a rummy joint this place is!\" There was frank awe in the\ngangster's voice as he at last broke the silence. \"That guy with the\ngreen net sure took us for one sweet ride. Mebbe we're on the Moon now,\nor on Mars, huh?\"\nBlake shook his head. \"No, we're completely out of our entire solar\nsystem. Those twin purple suns up there prove that. We may even be in\nanother universe, or another dimension from our own. A piece of\napparatus that could whisk us up through fifty feet of earth and masonry\nas that green net did obviously works in dimensions of which we've\nnever dreamed. The only thing we're sure of is that we were brought to\nthis purple world deliberately and intentionally by an intelligent being\nof some kind, scooped up like tadpoles from a mud-puddle and dumped here\nin this elaborate enclosure It had already prepared for us.\"\nBlake nodded to where the black cone-building loomed through the purple\nmists outside the end wall. \"Whoever or whatever the thing was that\nbrought us here, I have a hunch It's there in that power-house watching\nus. I'd suggest that we walk down toward that end of the enclosure for a\ncloser look. We may at least find out whether we're guests or\nprisoners.\"\n\"Listens good to me, fellah,\" agreed Mapes, sliding a hand up to his\nshoulder holster and bringing out a squat black automatic pistol of\nheavy caliber. \"We'll do a prowl, over that way, and if His Nibs tries\nany more funny business mebbe a few slugs outta this rod will change his\nmind for him.\"\n\"Better go easy with the gun, Mapes,\" advised Blake as the three of them\nstarted slowly toward the cone-building. \"From what we've already seen,\nthere must be weapons in this world that would make your pistol look\nlike a kid's pop-gun. We'd better go easy till--wait, what's that?\"\nThe thin high-pitched whine, followed promptly by the familiar growling\nthunder of infra-bass, had again become audible. At the same moment a\nlong pencil-like beam of green light glowed into visibility, extending\nfrom the tip of the cone to a point high within the enclosure just back\nof them. As they halted abruptly and watched, they saw the interlacing\nmeshes of the green flame-net materialize suddenly at the end of the\nbeam.\nThe beam curved into an arc that dropped the net swiftly to the ground\nsome thirty yards from them. Its meshes were packed nearly full of dark,\nwrithing figures.\n\"Looks like some more tadpoles arriving for our pond!\" Mapes exclaimed.\n\"I wonder what part of N' Yawk His Nibs yanked these babies from?\"\nBlake's answer died on his lips as the net and beam glowed blindingly\nbrighter for a brief second, then disappeared, leaving the dark figures\nin full view. Helen choked back a gasp of horror. Mapes swore in\nconsternation and hurriedly swung his pistol into line with those\nwrithing shapes.\nThe net's latest captives were not from New York, nor were they from any\nother part of the planet Earth. Hideous spawn of some unknown world out\nin the black void of Space, they writhed for a moment in a nightmare\nchaos of countless brown-furred bodies, then swiftly disentangled\nthemselves before the staring eyes of the three Earthlings.\nThe things were apparently too low in the mental scale to have any\nreaction to their situation other than a blind instinct to attack any\nother living being within reach, for they promptly headed for the three\ncaptives from Earth.\nAs the creatures came shambling rapidly forward on powerful bowed legs,\nand with the tips of their long hairy arms brushing the ground, they\nlooked like grotesquely distorted apes. The crowning horror of those\nshambling figures, however, lay in the fact that they were completely\nheadless!\nEven when the things approached to a distance of less than ten feet\nbefore halting in momentary indecision, Blake could detect no sign of\nany normal skull in the blunt space at the top of the powerful hairy\ntorso. There was a furry-lipped mouth opening of some kind in the hollow\nbetween the bulging shoulders, but of eyes, ears, nose, or brain cavity\nthere was no discernible trace.\nFor a long moment the headless ape-things and the three human beings\nstood silently facing each other. Mapes' pistol was leveled pointblank\nat the nearest of the creatures, but their overwhelming numbers made the\ngangster hold his fire.\nThere were two distinct groups of the things. At least twenty members of\neach group were in the crowd facing the Earthlings. To the rear of these\nattackers two oddly repulsive objects were carried and carefully\nshielded by picked guards of four unusually large and powerful\nape-things.\nThe nature of those two guarded objects puzzled Blake. They looked like\nlarge eggs of dirty-gray jelly, about a yard in length. They were\nobviously alive, for their gelatinous masses quivered and trembled in\nconstant activity. Blake noted that there seemed to be a curious\nconnection between the ebb and flow of pulsations in the egg-masses and\nthe movements of the ape-things.\nHis attention was abruptly recalled to the headless things in front of\nhim as they suddenly began shambling forward again. There was no\npossible mistaking the intention of those advancing horrors. They were\nmoving to the attack.\nThey reached barely to Blake's shoulders, but he realized that their\nenormous numbers and hook-taloned hands would make the result of the\nbattle almost a foregone conclusion. The fact that the headless things\nwere without eyes was no handicap to them. The swift certainty of their\nmovements proved that they had a sense of sight of some kind that was in\nevery way as efficient as eyesight.\nBlake looked hurriedly around him, seeking a place where they might be\nat the best possible advantage in the impending battle. There was a\nsmall dense thicket of the spiky dead branches half a dozen yards to\ntheir right. At Blake's low command, the three made a dash for the\nthicket. Arriving there, they ranged themselves against it, with their\nbacks at least partially protected from attack.\nThe maneuver seemed to puzzle the ape-things for a moment. They stood\npassively watching the retreat of the three until they had reached the\nthicket. Then the creatures again began slowly closing in upon them.\nBlake snatched up a dead branch from the ground near the thicket, and\nwas delighted to find that its weight and tough fiber made it an\nexcellent club.\nHe stripped off his topcoat and passed it back to Helen. Its tough\nfabric, heavily rubberized for proof against rain, might guard her head\nand face at least momentarily from those ripping talons if the headless\nattackers came to close quarters. With Helen safely behind them, Blake\nand Mapes turned grimly to face the enemy.\nThe attack was prompt in coming. Moving with the perfect synchronization\nof a single unit, one of the main groups came shambling in, followed an\ninstant later by the other group. Mapes' pistol sent a bullet crashing\nsquarely into the nearest attacker. The creature staggered momentarily,\nthen came lurching on again, apparently not even crippled. Blake swung\nhis heavy club in a whistling arc that sent two of his adversaries\nbroken and writhing to the ground.\nHe heard Mapes' pistol bark four times more as the things closed in.\nThen the gun was knocked from the gangster's grip by a groping\ntalon-armed hand. Mapes tried to batter back his assailants with his\nnaked fists, but the flailing arms of the horde knocked him from his\nfeet. His limp body was promptly tramped into unconsciousness by the\nmilling feet of the close-packed group.\nBlake lashed the heavy club about him with a burst of savage fury that\nfor the moment sent the furred horrors reeling backward. Their retreat\nended after a scant two yards. Reforming their ranks, they again began\ncautiously shambling forward in a new attack that Blake realized would\nprobably mean the end.\nIt was easy enough to batter the things to ground, but it seemed\nimpossible to seriously hurt them. Their incredible vitality and their\noverwhelming numbers made them almost invincible. Grimly Blake set\nhimself to battle as long as he could in that last desperate effort to\nkeep the hordes at bay.\nHe noticed idly that the two groups still kept their oddly separated\nformation. Behind them the two egg-masses of jelly were now seething in\nnew activity after a brief lessening of their gruesome shivering. Blake\nnow saw that there was a direct and unmistakable connection between the\nactivity of the jelly and the corresponding activity of the ape-things.\nRealization of the fact sent a sudden flash of inspiration flaming\nthrough Blake's weary brain, correlating the real significance of a\ndozen different things he had been subconsciously noting ever since the\nfirst appearance of the weird beasts.\nThose attacking things were not hordes of individual animals. They were\nmerely two complete organisms, with the members of each organism\ncontrolled by its nucleus through invisible lines of nervous force as\nthe various individual cells of the human body are linked by nerve\nfibers. No wonder the creatures themselves were blind. The egg-mass that\nwas the nucleus of each of the two groups was eyes, brain, and seat of\nlife for every ape-thing in the group.\nWith a swift surge of hope Blake realized the way to conquer the things.\nIf he could only shatter those flaccid masses of jelly, he would destroy\nthe swarming dozens of beasts at the same time.\nReaching the jelly ovoids seemed at first consideration to be an\nimpossible task. They were carefully guarded far in the rear of the\nattacking groups. Blake knew that he had scarcely a chance in a hundred\nof battering his way through the intervening ape-things.\nThen he remembered the gangster's pistol. His searching eyes found it\nimmediately, there on the ground nearly under the feet of the ape-things\nas they again shambled forward to the attack.\nBlake staked everything upon a last desperate sortie against the\nadvancing things. With his club whistling around his head in crashing\nblows that wrought murderous havoc in the close-packed hordes, he drove\nthem back for one breathless moment that gave him time to leap forward\nand snatch up the pistol.\nThe ape-things were already springing back upon him as he swung the\npistol into line with one of the jelly-masses. He barely pressed the\ntrigger before the charging brutes knocked him from his feet.\nAs he went down he flung his arms over his head to protect his face from\nthe expected attack of those hooked talons, but none came. A body\nthudded down upon him, then slid limply off again without making any\nmove to attack. Blake scrambled to his feet.\nWrithing upon the ground all around him were ape-things in their death\nagonies. On the ground beyond them, quivering and broken in the midst of\nits dying guards, was a viscid mass of loathsome gray jelly. Blake's\nshot had apparently struck home squarely in the center of that\nvulnerable blob. Even as he watched, the gelatinous mass shuddered in a\nlast convulsion, then became quite still. At the same instant the last\nsign of life vanished from the writhing ape-things on the ground.\nA good half of the attacking creatures were included in the dead bodies.\nThe other half, Blake now saw, had retreated to cluster in wild panic\nabout the remaining blob of jelly. Realizing exultantly that his single\nshot had slain one of the two weirdly disassociated organisms, Blake\nwith pistol in hand advanced toward the other, trying to get a clear\nshot at the jelly through the furry bodies clustering around it.\nThe group promptly turned and fled in blind panic. Blake sent the\npistol's last shot crashing into the mass without any appreciable\neffect. Then the things' stampede carried them hurtling on through one\nof the gold-flecked side walls out into the swirling purple mists.\nThe gold-flecked sheet flowed together again so swiftly behind the\nthings that a fraction of a second later there was not even the\nslightest indication in its shimmering unbroken surface to show that it\nhad ever been pierced.\nFor thirty yards the fleeing ape-things sped on into the purple vapors.\nThen disaster struck them with bewildering swiftness. They stopped in\nfull flight, shuddered for a moment, then slumped to the ground with\ntheir limbs writhing in agony. In their center the jelly ovoid quivered\nmadly in the same strange torture.\nTiny patches of vivid purple appeared at a hundred different points upon\nthe dying creatures. The patches spread and merged with lightning\nrapidity until a solid sheet of livid purple covered the writhing mass.\nSwiftly that mass lost both movement and shape as it melted down into a\npool of turgid purple slime. Then the slime vaporized into purple mists\nthat blended into the surrounding vapors, and all trace of the\nape-things and their jelly nucleus had vanished.\nStunned by the incredible speed of this general dissolution, Blake\nrealized for the first time the real reason for the presence of the\ngold-flecked walls of force. Without those shimmering walls the captives\nwould not have lived for a minute in the deadly purple atmosphere of\nthis weird world beneath the twin suns. The gold-flecked walls were both\ntheir protection and their prison. The swirling purple mists outside\nthose walls held the Earthlings as effectively and hopelessly prisoners\nin their enclosure as gold-fish in a bowl of water.\nBlake turned back to the thicket to see how Helen and Mapes had fared in\nthat terrific battle with the headless things. He was relieved to see\nthat the girl had apparently escaped without even a scratch. She was\nkneeling beside Mapes' prone figure, doing what she could to revive him.\nThe gangster was badly battered, but he seemed to have no serious\ninjuries. He was already beginning to stir weakly and show signs of\nreturning life.\nBlake started to step over to the two. Then he stopped abruptly as he\nheard a sharp metallic clang from the cone-building out in the purple\nmists beyond the end wall. He looked quickly up and saw that an oval\nwindow had opened in the structure near its tip. Framed in the opening\nwas what seemed to be a large concave mirror. At one side of the mirror\nwas a living being of some kind, but the intervening mists prevented\nBlake from making out any details beyond a hazy glimpse of a cluster of\nwhat seemed to be long slender snake-like black tentacles.\nThe next moment there spurted from the mirror a broad and swiftly\nspreading beam of red light so brilliant that it glowed clearly even in\nthe bright purple rays of the twin suns. Before Blake could shout a\nwarning to Helen the racing flood of ruddy radiance was upon them. The\nscene reeled in a blurred kaleidoscope of flaming colors before Blake's\neyes for a brief second, then complete oblivion swept over him.\nAfter an interval that seemed hours, consciousness returned to him as\nsuddenly as it had left him. His first bewildered look around him\ndisclosed the fact that startling changes had occurred in his\nsurroundings during the period while he was under the anesthesia of the\nred ray.\nHis first effort at movement brought realization that he was in the grip\nof a strange paralysis. His head and neck seemed quite normal in every\nway, but from the throat downward his body was completely dead as far as\nany power of voluntary movement was concerned.\nHe twisted his head stiffly to one side, and saw that Helen was standing\nthere beside him. Just beyond her was the motionless figure of Gil\nMapes. Both the gangster and the girl were in the grip of the same\nstrange paralysis. Like Blake, they were standing there rigidly\nmotionless, facing the gold-flecked barrier wall just in front of them.\nA moment's painful scrutiny of their position showed Blake that the\nposts forming the wall of the enclosure at the end toward the cone had\nbeen brought in nearly a hundred yards toward them while they slept. The\nshimmering barrier sheet was now scarcely a yard from their faces, yet\nthey still stood near the thicket where they had battled the headless\nhorrors. Blake saw his coat half-buried in the blue-gray dust near his\nfeet where Helen had discarded the garment to minister to Mapes.\nTheir unseen captor had obviously made definite preparations for\nwhatever his next purpose with them was to be, for a long wheeled\nplatform had been brought to a position opposite them just outside the\nshimmering gold-flecked sheet. Blake noted the shattered remains of\nMapes' pistol on the ground at one side of the platform. It had\napparently been fished from the enclosure and rendered harmless after\ntheir captor had seen the weapon's efficient use against the headless\nape-things.\nClustered upon the wheeled platform was an assemblage of intricately\nwinding coils, glowing tubes, and other apparatus that conveyed no more\nmeaning to Blake's bewildered gaze than a sight of the interior of a\nmetropolitan power-house would to a Congo savage.\nThere was only one piece of the apparatus regarding whose probable\nfunction Blake could even guess. This was a pair of long slender arms\nthat projected through the shimmering walls into the enclosure,\nsupporting at their end a large thin metal plate located just over the\nheads of the three Earthlings. Blake was willing to wager that it was\nthis overhead plate that was responsible for the odd paralysis that held\nthem helpless.\nThen a figure came slowly into view from where it had been concealed by\nthe apparatus, and Blake forgot all thought of the strange mechanisms as\nhe watched the monstrous thing clamber stiffly from the platform and\nhalt squarely in front of the captives to stare at them through the\ntransparency of the intervening force sheet.\nThe thing was a curious blending of human and bestial features. It stood\nbarely five feet in height, yet its great scale-armored skull was at\nleast three times as large as that of a grown man. There was colossal\nmental power and nameless evil glowing in the dark depths of the two\nabnormally large eyes that stared fixedly out from under the heavy\nforehead. The thing had no nose. The mouth opening, surrounded by a\nrosette of flabby gray skin, was a mere slit. The entire skull and face\nwere covered with small, closely overlapping scales of lusterless gray.\nThe head merged directly into a short black torso nearly as wide as the\nskull itself. From this trunk there writhed a score of long black\nsnake-like tentacles, each terminating in a flexible three-fingered\n\"hand.\" The trunk was supported by two short thick legs, armored with\ngray scales, and ending in broad three-toed feet.\n\"Greetings, Earthlings!\" The voice that emanated from the grotesque\nmouth was surprisingly resonant in tone. \"Allow me to present myself. I\nam Zehru, imperial scientist of Xollar.\"\nThe monstrosity seemed amused at the expressions of blank surprise upon\nthe faces of his captives. \"I learned your crude language from your\nbrain cells while you slept under the red ray,\" he explained. \"Also I\nlearned many other things regarding your planet, Earth. I am glad to\nfind your world so well adapted to my purpose. Within a few years after\nmy arrival there I shall be its unquestioned ruler.\"\nBlake started to voice the many questions that were surging through his\nmind, but an imperious gesture of an outflung tentacle stopped him.\n\"Silence, Earthling!\" There was tolerant contempt in Zehru's ringing\nvoice. \"I will explain some of the things that puzzle you. There is no\nreason why I should trouble myself to do so, yet it may while away the\ntedium of the short wait yet remaining before my apparatus becomes\ncharged to the required point. Listen carefully, Earthling, for at best\nyou will find many of my thoughts beyond the feeble limits of the word\nforms with which you have provided me.\n\"The world of Xollar, where you now are, is a planet in the island\nuniverse known to your astronomers as the Great Nebula of Andromeda.\nUntil a short time ago I was one of its ruling scientists. Then I\nsinned, and so grave was my sin according to the laws of this planet\nthat the Council of Three decreed my death. That death sentence upon\nXollar is irrevocable, and no man has yet escaped it no matter where\nupon the planet he may be when the appointed time for his execution\ncomes. I was given the usual period of grace in which to put my affairs\nin order. Instead, I have labored unceasingly here in my laboratory, and\nmy labors have borne fruit. I am the first man in Xollarian history to\nfind a means of escaping the dread death penalty.\n\"Briefly, I discovered a way by which I can flee to your far-distant\nuniverse, where not even the powers of the Council of Three can follow\nme. That way lies through the door of inter-dimensional Space. In Space\nas you know it, the almost unthinkable distance of a million light years\nseparates Xollar from the dwarf star you call your Sun. Yet, traveling\n_between_ Space, the two planets nearly touch each other. The same\nsituation of being near neighbors in inter-dimensional Space holds true\nwith Xollar and at least seven other planets located in widely separated\nparts of your universe.\n\"Let me try to illustrate what I mean by traveling between Space. We\nwill assume a nearly two-dimensional universe in the form of a circular\npiece of paper three feet in diameter. There is a dot in the exact\ncenter of each side of this paper. To a two-dimensional creature, forced\nto travel only on the surface of the paper, the distance between the\ntwo dots can never be less than thirty-six inches. Yet by cutting\n_between_ the two surfaces and going directly through the paper the dots\nare less than one-hundredth of an inch apart.\n\"Such is the case with Xollar and the planets in your universe which are\nour immediate neighbors in inter-dimensional Space. In order to reach\nthose planets I had only to develop a method of using sufficient force\nto cut _between_ the three dimensions of intervening Space. In solving\nthis problem I developed both an inter-dimensional net to bring beings\nfrom your universe to mine, and an inter-dimensional gate to permit\nbeings to pass from here back to worlds in your galaxy.\n\"You have already seen the workings of the net. It was the device of\ngreen fire that brought you here. The use of the net was a vital part of\nmy plans, for without the use of a physical body from some world in your\nuniverse I could not hope to live longer than a few minutes after\nleaving Xollar via the inter-dimensional gate. The inherent\ncharacteristics and basic elements of your galaxy and the Andromedan\nuniverse are so different in every way that an inhabitant of either\nstar-group cannot exist in the other. Xollar's purple atmosphere is\ncharacteristic of Andromedan worlds. Your oxygen-saturated air is\ntypical of worlds in your galaxy. Just as Xollar's purple mists would be\nimmediately fatal to you, so would your clear oxygen-tainted air be\nquickly fatal to me.\n\"Accordingly, my only chance of surviving in one of your worlds is to\nfirst transfer my Intelligence to the body of one of the dwellers upon\nthat planet. Of the seven planets within reach of my net I found only\ntwo that promised to be at all suitable. One was your Earth, the other\na minor planet circling the star you call Vega. I brought both you and a\nnet-load of Vegans here to this oxygen-filled enclosure I had already\nprepared.\n\"The Vegans were the headless things with the jelly nuclei. I watched\nyour battle with them, and waited to choose as my vehicle the planetary\ntype that proved the stronger. You vanquished the Vegans, so it is in\nthe body of an Earthling that I shall leave Xollar, and it is to the\nplanet Earth that I shall be hurtled through the inter-dimensional gate.\n\"Aside from the slight difficulty caused by having to keep my body and\nyours each in its proper element during the operation, the matter of\ntransfer into one of your bodies is a simple one. It involves none of\nthe clumsy brain surgery of your Earthly science. We of Xollar have\nfound that the real Intelligence of a being is an invisible force not at\nall dependent for existence upon the protoplasm through which it\nmanifests. My Intelligence can function quite as well in your brain\ncells as in my own.\n\"I require no assistant in the transfer.\" Zehru indicated an intricate\npiece of apparatus on the platform behind him. It was a massive cylinder\nof fluorescent metal, with two long metallic cables running from its\ncenter, each cable ending in a saucer-shaped disk.\n\"I have only to thrust one cable through the force-wall into your\nenclosure and place its disk upon one of your heads, then place the\nother disk upon my own head. The apparatus is entirely automatic. Three\nseconds after both disks are in place my Intelligence will course into\nthe Earthling brain, driving out his Intelligence and destroying it as\nmine enters.\n\"I will, of course, remove the selected body from under the paralyzing\nplate before I attach the disks. Then when I am safely transferred to\nthe Earthling body I will have only to walk on through the enclosure to\nthe silver arch at the far end and leave Xollar forever.\n\"That silver arch is the inter-dimensional gate to your Earth. Its\noperation is slightly different from that of the net. Where the net was\ncapable of reaching under the surface of your planet, a proceeding I\ntried when two attempts upon the surface proved fruitless, the gate is\nso adjusted that it will place its passenger exactly upon the surface of\nyour world. It requires no cooperation from this end. When I step under\nthe arch I merely close a black lever there. Inter-dimensional force\nimmediately catapults me to your Earth. Then the automatic mechanism of\nthe gate will within half a minute of my departure release an explosion\nthat will shatter everything within a radius of a mile here, and so\nprevent the Council of Three from even guessing the method of my\nescape.\"\n\"But what of the two of us whose bodies you do not need?\" Blake\nprotested. \"Can you not at least take them through the arch-gate with\nyou back to their home world?\"\n\"Why should I do anything so foolish as that?\" Zehru answered callously.\n\"They might easily be a menace to my first attempts to establish myself\nupon your planet. Far better to leave them here in their present state\nof paralysis to be safely destroyed in the explosion of the gate.\"\nZehru now thrust three of his tentacles into a vat of milky fluid, and\nwithdrew them coated with a silver sheen on the black flesh. The silver\nglaze seemed to be an insulation against both the oxygen of the\nenclosure and the paralyzing force of the overhead disk, for the\nXollarian promptly thrust the three silver-coated arms through the wall\nand began handling the bodies of Mapes and Blake in a painstaking\nprocess of examination.\nAgain Blake noted that the shimmering gold-flecked wall closed quickly\nin and kept its surface unbroken no matter how often objects were thrust\nthrough it.\nCompletely ignoring Helen, Zehru lifted first Mapes, then Blake, his\ntentacles probing, fingering, exploring. There was enormous power in the\nXollarian's grotesque body. He lifted the men as though they were wooden\ndolls, bringing them close to the shimmering wall to peer at them, then\nsetting them carefully down again on their feet under the disk. Blake\nwondered idly why their stiff bodies did not topple over when they were\nleft unsupported, then decided that the paralyzing force of the disk\nprobably left the automatic muscular balancing movements unimpaired,\naffecting only the powers of voluntary movement.\nThen, as Zehru set him down after one of the periods of examination,\nBlake noticed a new and startling change the moment his feet touched the\nground. His right leg and right arm were no longer dead!\nHe hurriedly glanced down at the ground at his feet, and promptly found\nwhat seemed to be the reason for his partial freedom from the paralysis.\nIn setting his body down the last time Zehru had moved Blake slightly.\nHis right foot now rested upon a corner of the discarded topcoat lying\nhalf-buried there in the blue-gray dust.\nThe heavily rubberized cloth apparently acted as an insulating sheet\nthat prevented the effective grounding of the paralyzing force that\nstreamed down through Blake's body from the overhead disk. Consequently\nall portions of his body between the coat and the disk were free from\nthe paralysis. For a moment Blake wondered at Zehru's carelessness. Then\nhe realized that the insulating qualities of rubber would naturally be\nunknown to a Xollarian.\nNoting that Zehru was busy at the moment with his work upon Mapes, Blake\nquickly grasped at the faint chance the presence of the rubberized cloth\noffered him. Working with infinite slowness and caution, he edged his\nright foot over an inch at a time, dragging the rest of his body with\nit.\nLuck was with him. Zehru continued, absorbed in his work upon Mapes. The\nXollarian's telepathic powers apparently functioned only with the aid of\nthe red ray, for he remained oblivious of Blake's actions. One final\ncautious dragging movement, and Blake's entire body was upon the cloth,\nwith every muscle again vibrantly alive.\nBlake stood there motionless, faking paralysis, while his brain raced in\nan effort to figure the best use to make of his present advantage. He\nwas still trapped, not daring to reach even a hand beyond the protection\nof the cloth underfoot. The first essential of any effort at escape\nwould have to be a lunge of sufficient power to take him safely beyond\nthe area of the disk's influence.\nBlake's first thought was to hurl himself through the barrier wall upon\nZehru, trusting to sheer surprise to overwhelm the Xollarian, but he\nquickly dismissed that plan. It left too many elements in Zehru's favor.\nThere was a tube-like weapon thrust in a belt around Zehru's middle and\nthere were probably a dozen other different weapons lying handy to his\nreach among the apparatus on the platform. The deadly purple mists\nbeyond the wall would alone in all probability overcome Blake before he\ncould batter Zehru down.\nBy far the best plan was to stage the battle inside the enclosure where\nBlake would be in his own native element. If he could yank Zehru inside\nthe wall he would have him away from contact with his mechanical weapons\nand battling in an atmosphere inherently poisonous to him. Under those\ncircumstances, Blake felt that he might have an even chance in a\nhand-to-hand combat with the powerful but slow-footed Xollarian.\nOnce Zehru was eliminated, escape back to Earth should be a simple\nmatter. The silver gate, with its automatic mechanism needing only the\nclosing of a lever, was ready and waiting there in the enclosure behind\nthem.\nFor long tense minutes Blake forced himself to remain rigidly motionless\nwhile Zehru labored over Mapes. Then finally the Xollarian turned his\nattention briefly back to Blake, and thrust two tentacles in to grip his\nbody. No sooner had the tentacles crossed above the border of the cloth\nthan Zehru realized that something was wrong. He tried to whip his arms\nback again but too late.\nBlake made a lightning snatch at a tentacle with both hands, and in the\nsame lithe movement turned from the barrier wall and flung himself\nheadlong toward the center of the enclosure. Zehru had no time to brace\nhimself. He was jerked bodily through the shimmering wall and on after\nBlake's lunging body.\nOne of the Xollarian's waving tentacles grasped wildly at the overhead\ndisk in an effort to stay his flight. The only result was to bring the\nentire disk and its supports crashing in ruins to the ground upon the\nstruggling figures of Blake and himself.\nBlake was upon his feet again instantly. Snatching up a yard-long scrap\nof metal from the wreckage of the disk, he flung himself upon Zehru.\nThe Xollarian seemed for the moment too dazed by his fall to fight back.\nWith tentacles raised to guard his head, he staggered backward in\nretreat, every step taking him farther away from the wall and the purple\nmists.\nBlake was vaguely aware that Helen and Mapes, freed by the wrecking of\nthe disk, were scrambling to their feet. Mapes was already running\ntoward the combatants. Blake was glad at the prospect of an ally.\nZehru's dazed condition was swiftly passing. He had now stopped his\nretreat and was already fumbling a tentacle toward the tube-weapon in\nhis belt.\nBlake flung himself upon Zehru in another effort to beat him down before\nhe could draw that weapon, but his metal club glanced harmlessly off the\ntentacles Zehru raised to shield his head. Then beyond Zehru Blake saw\nsomething that made him stop his assault.\nIt was Mapes, sprinting toward the silver arch-gate at the other end of\nthe enclosure. Blake's heart sank as he realized the gangster's\ntreachery. If he once reached that arch he could send himself safely\nhurtling back to Earth, while Blake and Helen would be left to perish\nwith Zehru in the explosion that would immediately follow. It was too\nlate for Blake to head the gangster off. He had already covered half the\ndistance to the arch.\nZehru noted Mapes' fleeing figure almost as quickly as did Blake.\nSwiftly the Xollarian swung his tube-weapon into line with the fleeing\ngangster. A thin pencil of dull yellow light of a peculiar density\nspurted from the tube toward Mapes. There was a flash of blinding flame\nas the light beam met the gangster's body; then Mapes' figure seemed to\nliterally explode, as though blasted by dynamite from within. So\ndevastating was the force of that explosion that nothing remained of\nMapes' body beyond a few scattered fragments of shoes and clothing.\nBlake was still dazed at the cataclysmic suddenness of Mapes' death as\nZehru swung the tube around to train it upon him. Only a last-minute\ndesperate effort upon Blake's part saved him. His wildly thrown metal\nclub made a lucky hit on the tube itself, knocking it, shattered and\nuseless, out of Zehru's grasp.\nUnarmed, Zehru faced Blake with his face contorting in agony. For a\nmoment the Xollarian swayed there, apparently trying to gather his\nfailing strength for the next move. The deadly air of the enclosure was\nalready taking hideous toll. The scaly flesh of his head and face was\ndissolving like melting butter.\nZehru's strength was ebbing too swiftly for him to have any chance of\ngaining safety through either of the distant side walls. His only hope\nof fighting back to the purple mists was to pass Blake and go through\nthe nearby end wall through which he had originally been drawn.\nHe came lunging forward in an attack whose sheer fury made Blake give\nground before the menace of the lashing tentacles.\nBlake took another backward step, then staggered as his foot struck a\nrough spot in the ground. Zehru's tentacles were upon him before he\ncould recover himself. His club was jerked from his fingers and sent\nhurtling far out of reach. Half a dozen of the tentacle-arms lashed\naround his throat in a strangling grip.\nHe clawed wildly at the choking coils, but they failed to loosen even a\nfraction of an inch. Desperately Blake sent his fists smashing into the\ngray face. The scale armor of Zehru's skull, fast weakening in the\nliquefying influence of the oxygen, gave way beneath that battering\nattack. He staggered, and his coiling tentacles relaxed slightly.\nBlake tore himself free. A final smashing blow, with every ounce of his\none hundred and ninety pounds behind it, sent Zehru crashing to the\nground. The Xollarian tried to rise, then feebly slumped back, his\nstrength spent. Blake leaped forward to finish his opponent, but stopped\nas he saw that his efforts were not needed.\nThe deadly air of the enclosure was now overwhelming Zehru with swift\nand hideous death. He was literally rotting before Blake's horrified\neyes, the gray-scaled skin sloughing off in streaming rivulets of pallid\nooze, and the entire body contorting in what was obviously a death\nagony.\nSickened, Blake stepped back a pace or two. Zehru's tentacles feebly\nbeat the ground around him, then suddenly one of the writhing arms\nblundered upon a thin cable running along the ground. Before Blake could\nspring forward to stop him, Zehru with a last surge of power ripped the\nfragile metal strand completely in two.\nIt was the Xollarian's dying effort. He slumped in a motionless, nearly\nliquescent heap. But that last blind blow at the Earthlings threatened\nto be a deadly one. The severed cable led to one of the black posts\nsurrounding the enclosure. With the cable's parting an entire section of\none of the gold-flecked barrier walls vanished. Xollar's deadly purple\nmists were already surging in.\nSpeed was the Earthlings' only chance now. Helen was as quick to realize\nthe danger as was Blake. Side by side they started their mad race toward\nwhere the silver arch-gate loomed nearly a hundred yards away.\nThey had covered barely half the distance when the air around them\nbegan to show a definite tinge of purple. With the appearance of the\npurple hue there came a strange and swiftly increasing agony, a\ntorturing vibration that seemed to be tearing every atom in their bodies\nasunder.\nThey were within ten yards of the arch when Helen fell. Blake grabbed\nher up in his arms and stumbled on. There was no longer enough oxygen in\nthe air to even breathe. Blake's lungs were on fire. Every cell in his\nbody seemed vibrating in unbearable torment.\nIt was all that he could do to struggle up on the low platform. He\nstaggered across the space and under the arch. It took the last shred of\nstrength in his tortured body for him to lift his hand and pull the\nblack lever down into place.\nIts action was instantaneous. The agony of the purple mists was blotted\nout in a surging wave of mighty force that swept Blake and Helen up and\naway through a Spaceless universe where black chaos reigned awesomely\nsupreme. There was a long terrible moment of hurtling through distances\ninconceivably vast. Blake's brain reeled in nausea.\nThen suddenly all motion ceased and everything was normal again. There\nwas firm grassy ground under his feet and a cool breeze was blowing in\nhis face.\nHe opened his eyes and saw the gray half-light of early dawn. After the\nfirst swift look around him he sighed in mighty relief. To his left was\nthe familiar skyline of Fifth Avenue. To his right was Central Park\nWest. They were somewhere in Central Park, safe again in their own\nworld.\nAnd somewhere in that other world beneath the twin purple suns, the time\nmechanism of the silver gate should even now be releasing the explosive\nthat would forever blot out all trace of the evil handiwork of Zehru,\ncosmic fisher of Xollar.\nTranscriber's Note:\n    This etext was produced from _Astounding Stories_ February 1932.\n    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\n    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and\n    typographical errors have been corrected without note.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Zehru of Xollar\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\n                        with the Mounted Police\n                      \u201cDick Kent in the Far North\u201d\n                      \u201cDick Kent with the Eskimos\u201d\n                   \u201cDick Kent and the Malemute Mail\u201d\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                 _Made in the United States of America_\n  XXI The Man From Crooked Stick River                               184\n                   DICK KENT WITH THE MOUNTED POLICE\nDick Kent tossed aside the wolf trap he had been trying to repair, and\nturned to his chum, Sandy McClaren.\n\u201cLet\u2019s go back to your Uncle Walter\u2019s at Fort Good Faith,\u201d said Dick\nrestlessly. \u201cIt\u2019s getting too quiet around here.\u201d\nSandy McClaren\u2019s big blue eyes turned from the marten pelt he had been\nscraping. \u201cI\u2019m with you, Dick. Uncle Walt needs us, too. He\u2019s still\nhaving a lot of trouble with that outlaw, Bear Henderson.\u201d\nFor a year after finishing school in the United States, Dick Kent and\nSandy McClaren had been pursuing adventure two hundred miles north of\nHay River Landing, Canada, where they had gone to visit Sandy\u2019s uncle.\nLately they had come to Fort du Lac at the invitation of Martin MacLean,\nthe factor there. The savage northland already had woven its spell of\ndangerous adventure about them, but Fort du Lac had proved dull after\nthe excitement of the more lawless trading post supervised by Sandy\u2019s\nuncle on the northern fringe of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s territory.\nDick and Sandy had turned toward the big log store building where Martin\nMacLean bartered for furs, when they stopped dead, looking northeast\nalong the trail that curved about a high headland of pine forest.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d cried Dick suddenly.\n\u201cLooks like an Indian runner!\u201d Sandy exclaimed.\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell Mr. MacLean,\u201d Dick stretched his athletic legs toward the\nstore.\nThe fur trader came out on Dick\u2019s heels a moment later, his broad, bony\nframe and bearded face tense at the hint of trouble.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a runner all right,\u201d confirmed the trader, watching the distant\nfigure, which was rapidly approaching.\nPresently a swarthy faced Indian, his coarse black hair streaming about\nhis haggard features, fell almost exhausted into their arms.\n\u201cHelp me carry him in,\u201d Martin MacLean commanded. \u201cHe\u2019s tuckered out.\nWe\u2019ve got to get him to talk. There\u2019s trouble somewhere.\u201d\nThey tugged the limp body of the runner into the store and lay him on\nseveral bales of fur. The trader hurried for stimulant, which he forced\nbetween the Indian\u2019s teeth. The runner soon opened his eyes. All three\nbent over him as he spoke:\n\u201cHim Bear Henderson take um post\u2014from Mister McClaren,\u201d gasped the\nrunner. \u201cTie um up. Kill all good Injuns!\u201d\nDick Kent\u2019s face paled as he turned to Sandy. \u201cHenderson has captured\nyour Uncle Walter!\u201d\n\u201cWell, he\u2019ll get his when the mounted police get there,\u201d flared Sandy,\nhis Scotch temper showing itself.\nThe factor of the post turned to them. They fell silent. \u201cBoys, I can\u2019t\nleave the post,\u201d he said, \u201cand I don\u2019t trust any of the Indians around\nthe store. Can I depend on you to go down the river and get Malcolm\nMackenzie?\u201d\n\u201cCan you!\u201d Dick and Sandy chorused, \u201cI should smile.\u201d\n\u201cYou know what this means,\u201d the trader went on sternly. \u201cBear Henderson\nis a powerful man. There isn\u2019t a doubt this runner was followed here.\nThere may be men right here at Fort du Lac who are in sympathy with the\noutlaw. Henderson is plotting against the whole northern frontier held\nby Hudson\u2019s Bay Company. It\u2019s life or death.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll do it!\u201d Dick cried eagerly. \u201cTell us what to do.\u201d\n\u201cAll right then. You go by canoe down the river to Mackenzie\u2019s Landing.\nTell Mackenzie I asked him to go with you to the mounted police post at\nFort Dunwoody. You know the trail that far. Malcolm knows it from the\nlanding on. There\u2019s a grub cache he might have forgotten. In case he\nhas\u2014\u2014\u201d the boys followed MacLean behind the counter. From the strong box\nthe trader drew a map. \u201cNow here is our post,\u201d the trader continued,\nindicating a dot on the rough map with a match end, while Dick and Sandy\nfollowed him attentively; \u201cThere\u2019s Little Moose Portage, and further\ndown Mackenzie\u2019s Landing, the free trader\u2019s post. Twenty miles further\nthe river swings north and you leave the water and go by land. Then\nhere\u2019s where you strike the cache of food\u2014\u2014\u201d\nDick\u2019s sudden, startled cry interrupted. \u201cWhat was that at the window!\u201d\n\u201cI didn\u2019t see anything,\u201d whispered Sandy.\n\u201cSure you weren\u2019t imagining something?\u201d said the trader.\n\u201cI know I saw a face right there a moment ago,\u201d Dick insisted, pointing\nto a window in the rear of the long store. \u201cIt seemed to be an Indian\u2019s\nface which was covered with hideous scars.\u201d\nMacLean walked back and pulled the curtains shut over the window. He\nreturned and went on explaining the location of the cache and the route\nto be taken to Fort Dunwoody.\nOnce started, Dick and Sandy were not long in preparing for the trip\ndown the river to Mackenzie\u2019s Landing. They cleaned and oiled their\n30.30 Ross rifles, packed a canoe with flour, beans, bacon, coffee,\nsalt, sugar and camp utensils, and saw that they were well supplied with\nammunition.\nOn their last trip to the canoe from the storehouse, Sandy, too, had a\nsingular surprise. But he did not cry out. Instead, he called softly to\nDick, who was a little ahead of him.\n\u201cI saw the same face you saw behind those boxes over there on the\nlanding,\u201d Sandy said tensely. \u201cMake believe we didn\u2019t notice anything.\nThen we\u2019ll pick up our rifles and walk down the river till we get where\nwe can see behind the boxes.\u201d\n\u201cAll right,\u201d Dick replied cooly, his dark eyes gleaming as they always\ndid at the promise of excitement.\n\u201cDon\u2019t shoot. Capture him,\u201d Dick added, as they deposited their packs\ninto the canoe, picked up their rifles and started off down the river\nbank, their eyes bent to the left.\nWhen they had advanced far enough to see behind the boxes, they turned\nand looked. The face was gone! There was no one behind the packing\nboxes.\nSandy scratched his head. \u201cBlame it, I know I saw somebody watching us.\u201d\n\u201cCome on, we\u2019ll look closer.\u201d Dick led the way forward and they examined\nall the boxes, but found each one empty.\n\u201cLooks queer,\u201d Dick admitted.\n\u201cThose Indians can disappear mighty suddenly,\u201d Sandy said. \u201cLet\u2019s tell\nMr. MacLean.\u201d\nThey hurried back to the store. The trader plainly was deeply concerned\nover what they had to tell. \u201cI tell you, boys, I hadn\u2019t ought to let you\nmake this trip,\u201d he said, pacing back and forth. \u201cHenderson has men here\nthat I know nothing about. They say he has secret operatives all over\nthe northern frontier. Sandy\u2019s uncle never would forgive me if anything\nhappened to you fellows. But I don\u2019t see what else I can do. The mounted\npolice must be notified.\u201d\n\u201cWell, Sandy and I aren\u2019t men,\u201d Dick replied modestly, \u201cbut you know\nwe\u2019ve been in the north country for a year now and so far we\u2019ve taken\npretty good care of ourselves. Sandy\u2019s Uncle Walter will tell you that.\u201d\nThe trader surveyed Dick Kent\u2019s stalwart figure and Sandy\u2019s more stocky\nframe with a renewal of confidence. \u201cYes,\u201d he concluded, \u201cI believe you\nfellows will come out all right. Shake.\u201d\nDick and Sandy gripped Martin MacLean\u2019s hard hand. They felt a glow of\nadmiration for the big \u201csourdough\u201d who had so complimented two\n\u201cchechakos,\u201d or tenderfeet. The trader drew from his pocket a wallet of\nmoney and thrust it into Dick\u2019s hand, with the remark it might come in\nhandy for expenses.\nAn hour later the boys were gliding down the river, Dick in the stern\nsteering, Sandy in front on the lookout for snags. The dark walls of\nspruce forest on either side closed in on them with a mysterious\nsilence. They seemed to feel malevolent eyes watching them as they\nsheered the oily surface of the stream. The strange face both had seen\nat Fort du Lac remained in their memory and made them silent as they\nforged along with the current. It was the last warm days of fall;\nalready a hint of winter was in the air, and with the threat of danger\nhovering about was combined another feeling of dread, as if the very\natmosphere of the vast, lonely land heralded the approach of mercilessly\ncold weather.\n\u201cYou watch the south bank, and I\u2019ll watch the north,\u201d Dick broke the\nsilence when the landing at Fort du Lac had faded from view around a\nbend. \u201cI think we\u2019ll be followed by land if our suspicions are correct\nand there\u2019s really some one on our trail.\u201d\n\u201cThey\u2019ll have to follow by land for a ways anyway,\u201d rejoined Sandy. \u201cMr.\nMacLean will see them if they use one of the canoes at the landing. But\nI suppose they have a canoe hidden somewhere along the river.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s about it,\u201d Dick agreed. \u201cWe\u2019ll keep sharp watch and be ready to\nduck if there\u2019s any shooting.\u201d\nThey paddled on silently for a quarter of an hour, making good time and\nkeeping to the center of the stream. They were just passing a large heap\nof driftwood, lodged in an eddy near the north shore, when Sandy called\nDick\u2019s attention to something under the brush.\n\u201cWhat do you make of that light brown object just the other side of the\nlittle sand point sticking out into the river?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cI was looking at it myself,\u201d responded Dick. \u201cI thought it was a log\nwith the bark off it at first, but it might be a canoe.\u201d\n\u201cIt looks a lot like a canoe\u2014as if they tried to hide it under some\nbrush but the brush sprung up after they left and exposed it.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll turn in and see,\u201d Dick plied his paddle lustily, and the light\ncraft swerved toward the shore.\n\u201cAren\u2019t we taking an awful risk?\u201d Sandy was cautious. \u201cSuppose they\u2019re\nclose to us.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll take a chance,\u201d Dick returned. \u201cBetter take a chance now than\nhave them catch up with us in that canoe. It\u2019s plain they\u2019re not here\nyet.\u201d\nNerves keyed high at thought of the peril they might be floating into,\nDick and Sandy bore swiftly into the sand point, and presently the\nbottom of the canoe grated on the gravel. Dick leaped out into the\nshallow water and beached the canoe, Sandy following closely.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a canoe sure enough!\u201d Dick exclaimed when they reached the spot\nwhere they had seen the suspicious object.\n\u201cAnd they tried to hide it,\u201d Sandy came back, as they drew nearer. \u201cSee\nthe tracks in the mud? Say! That canoe hasn\u2019t been there a day, if\nthat!\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right!\u201d Dick cried, \u201cand right here and now we\u2019re going to see\nthat nobody chases us in this canoe.\u201d\n\u201cBe careful,\u201d Sandy cautioned.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll set her adrift,\u201d Dick went on, unheeding Sandy\u2019s precautions.\n\u201cHere, Sandy, you grab the bow and I\u2019ll get around behind and push. Soon\nas we get it out in the current it\u2019ll float down where they can\u2019t find\nit. We might sink it, but we\u2019d have to tow it into the river and we\nhaven\u2019t time.\u201d\nSandy fell to work with a will. The canoe was lodged in the mud rather\nsecurely and they strained for some minutes before it at last came loose\nwith a suck and splash that nearly tumbled Sandy over. An instant later\nthey had shoved the canoe out into the stream, where the current caught\nit and carried it past the sand point.\nThe young adventurers paused to gaze with satisfaction upon this blow\nthey felt they had dealt the enemy, when a sound from the shore drew\ntheir startled attention.\n\u201cListen,\u201d whispered Dick.\nThey could hear a crashing among the trees. Looking toward the forest\nthey could see nothing at first. Then suddenly, into a small clearing\nthat led down to the river bank, burst three men, running and waving\ntheir rifles menacingly.\n\u201cQuick! The canoe!\u201d cried Dick hoarsely. \u201cDon\u2019t stop to shoot. We\u2019ve got\nto get away. They\u2019re after that canoe. It\u2019s the Indian with the scarred\nface!\u201d\nSandy tumbled into the stern of the canoe in one flying leap, and as\nDick shoved on the prow, he picked up his paddle and stroked backward.\nThe canoe left the beach with a lunge, and Dick was nearly precipitated\ninto the water as he leaped into his position in the bow. As they\ncrouched to paddle, three shots sounded and bullets cut the water about\nthem.\n\u201cDownstream fast,\u201d shouted Dick. \u201cStay low, Sandy.\u201d\nRifle balls were flying thick and fast as they rounded the sand point,\npaddling frantically after the canoe they had set adrift.\n\u201cDiable!\u201d they could hear an enraged cry in French, as their pursuers\nfound the canoe gone and the boys escaping.\nDick turned and looked back. All three of the men were kneeling with\nrifles leveled. \u201cDuck!\u201d he shouted to Sandy just in time.\nThe rifles cracked almost as one and two bullets ripped through the\nbottom of the canoe, plowing up splinters in their wake.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve sprung a leak,\u201d called Sandy almost immediately. \u201cThose shots\nhave put the canoe out of commission!\u201d\nDick glanced about at the bottom of the canoe. Sandy was right. The\nbullets had struck below the waterline and the river was gurgling in\naround the packs and blankets.\n                        AT LITTLE MOOSE PORTAGE\nDick Kent thought swiftly. There was no time to lose. The canoe was\nfilling fast. Already it was growing perceptibly heavier. Ahead he could\nsee the canoe they had set adrift. It was a long chance, but it was the\nonly thing to be done, aside from swimming to the other shore and\nabandoning all their packs and camp equipment.\n\u201cSandy!\u201d\n\u201cWhat?\u201d panted his chum.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to switch our packs into that empty canoe.\u201d\n\u201cCatch it first, I\u2019ll say!\u201d cried Sandy.\nThey redoubled their efforts on the paddles. The drifting canoe was\nspinning slowly in the stream. Waterlogged as they were, they yet were\nslowly gaining on the empty craft. Out of rifle range from the sand\npoint, the bullets of their pursuers no longer endangered them as they\nskipped across the water yards short of their mark.\nSlowly they overhauled the empty canoe, and at last Dick reached out and\ngrasped the prow, hauling it to the side of their own sinking craft.\nDropping their paddles then, they straddled the two gunwales and with\ntheir legs held the canoes together while with all haste they\ntransferred their dunnage. Working grimly and silently they had almost\nfinished when the canoes began to whirl slowly in the current. Sandy\nlost his balance and toppled into the water, his hoarse shout of\nsurprise muffled as the river closed over his head.\nSandy came up from the cold bath. Dick shouted encouragement, extending\na paddle to his chum while he alone held the canoes together. In a\nmoment, spluttering and shivering, Sandy crawled back into the loaded\ncanoe.\nThe leaking canoe was rolling on its side when the last blanket was\ntaken from it. The young men picked up their paddles and struck out with\nall speed. They feared their pursuers, since they no longer appeared on\nthe sand point, had run back into the forest and were coming along the\nriver bank into rifle range.\n\u201cB-r-r-r, that sure was no warm bath,\u201d chattered Sandy.\n\u201cKeep paddling, and warm up,\u201d Dick called over his shoulder. \u201cWe\u2019ll go\nashore and dry your clothes when we\u2019re sure we\u2019ve got away from them.\u201d\nNo sooner were the words out of his mouth when a rifle shot sounded from\nthe shore some distance behind them. A bullet whined over their heads\nand plunked into the river.\n\u201cThere they go again!\u201d cried Dick. \u201cLet\u2019s bear toward the other shore\nand see if we can\u2019t get out of range.\u201d\nCrouching over their paddles they swerved to the right and gradually\npaddled out of range once more.\nUntil late in the afternoon the boys kept up a killing pace with the\npaddles. Sandy, warmed by the stiff exercise, would not permit Dick to\ngo in shore on his account, and so they drew into the swift current\nabove Little Moose Portage.\nThe canoe was beached on the shore opposite the one where the enemy had\nput in an appearance miles behind. It was an excellent camp site. They\nwere only about three hundred yards above the rapids, whose swift\ncurrent, filled with sharp stones, made it necessary to go on by land to\na point where the river was less dangerous. They could hear the sound of\nthe rushing water.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll keep sharp watch while we make camp,\u201d said Dick. \u201cThose fellows\nmay have found another canoe and caught up with us.\u201d\n\u201cEven if they come on by land they can\u2019t be so very far behind,\u201d Sandy\nadded, shivering a little now that the warming work on the paddle was\ndiscontinued.\nDick and Sandy had paddled many miles that day and they were very tired.\nA year before they could not have kept on that far. But the north\ncountry had hardened their already healthy bodies, until they laughed at\nthe exertion that would have put a southland boy flat on his back.\nA campfire of pine cones and dead wood soon was crackling cheerily. Dick\nset on the coffee pot and mixed up some flapjacks while Sandy took off\nhis moccasins and sox by the fire. By the time Sandy was fairly dry the\nmeal was ready, and the boys fell to ravenously. Now and again they were\nstartled by some sound from the forest, but each time the noise proved\nto be only that made by a wild animal investigating their campfire.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll take turns on watch tonight,\u201d Dick said, sipping his last cup of\ncoffee.\n\u201cLet\u2019s draw straws for the first trick,\u201d Sandy suggested.\n\u201cNo,\u201d Dick objected, \u201cthat ducking you had gave you the hardest day.\nI\u2019ll take the first watch.\u201d\nSandy wanted it otherwise, but Dick insisted.\n\u201cWell, if you\u2019ll be sure to wake me up when my turn comes,\u201d Sandy was\nalready yawning, \u201cit\u2019s all right with me.\u201d\nSoon Sandy was rolled in his blankets, close by the fire, which was\nwelcome indeed in the chill of the autumn evening.\nDick took a position in the shadow of a clump of willows where the\nfirelight would not reveal him to any prowlers of the night that might\ninvestigate too closely. Here he squatted Indian fashion, his rifle\nacross his knees. Many thoughts passed through his mind as the time\nslowly passed. That Sandy and he were on the most perilous mission of\ntheir lives he knew. But contrary to being frightened by impending\ndanger, he was overjoyed. It was what he and Sandy had come north\nfor\u2014adventure. And they were getting it.\n\u201cWe ought to get to Mackenzie\u2019s Landing day after tomorrow,\u201d he mused,\ntalking low to himself to keep from going to sleep. It was too dangerous\nto walk about. \u201cThat means three or four more camps before we get a\nguide. Gee, I wish we could go on by ourselves. If Sandy or I only knew\nthe country around Fort Dunwoody\u2014but we\u2019d get lost, and we can\u2019t afford\nto lose any time with Sandy\u2019s uncle in Bear Henderson\u2019s hands. Wonder\u2014\u2014\u201d\nDick sat up suddenly, listening. It seemed to him that above the ripple\nof the river water and the low rumble of the distant rapids he heard the\nscrape of a canoe bottom on the gravel. His heart leaped and beat on\npainfully. What if some one stole their canoe, or crept up and attacked\nthem! The thought galvanized him into action.\nHe dropped to his hands and knees, his rifle clutched in his right\nfingers. It was only a short distance to that part of the beach where\nthey had dragged the canoe up out of the water. Dick crawled quietly\nalong among the shadows to the fringe of undergrowth bordering the\nbeach. At first the glare of the firelight in his eyes made all appear\nvery dark by contrast, but gradually his vision was adjusted, and he\ncould make out the vague form of the canoe.\n\u201cWonder if it was only my imagination,\u201d he mumbled, not seeing anything\namiss. \u201cBut\u2014\u2014\u201d he caught his breath. The canoe had moved!\nSure enough, difficult as it was to see distinctly, he knew the canoe\nhad rocked from side to side.\n\u201cWhat could it be?\u201d he whispered, straining his eyes.\nIt seemed now that he could see a darker blot of darkness moving above\nthe rim of the canoe, but he was not sure. There was but one thing to\ndo\u2014crawl out of the sheltering bushes and across the sand to a point\nfrom which he could ascertain just what was moving the canoe.\nThe decision made, Dick did not hesitate a moment. Half way to the\ncanoe, he stopped and lay prone on his stomach, listening and watching.\nWhat little breeze there was blew from the canoe toward him, so that an\nanimal would not easily detect his approach unless it heard him.\nFaintly, Dick could hear a scratching sound, as if some sharp instrument\nagitated the sand and gravel. He was more puzzled than ever.\nHe moved on again, drawing one knee cautiously after the other, careful\nthat his rifle was ready for instant firing. Ten feet further and the\nscratching sound ceased suddenly. Dick was now within a few feet of the\nprow of the canoe. He stopped dead still, and, resting on his knees,\nraised his rifle.\n\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d he called sternly.\nA sudden commotion followed. Around the prow of the canoe flashed two\nround glowing eyes, and a bearded, tuft-eared cat face. Dick\u2019s rifle\ncrashed. There was an inhuman squall of pain; a ball of fur and fury\nbounded high into the air and fell writhing, spitting and snarling\nwithin three feet of Dick, who leaped to one side.\n\u201cHi! Hi! Dick, where are you?\u201d It was Sandy calling from the campfire.\nHe had been awakened by the gun shot.\n\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Sandy,\u201d Dick called back, stooping over the animal he\nhad killed. \u201cOnly a lynx scratching around the canoe. Come and take a\nlook. Gosh! I must have hit him right between the eyes.\u201d\nSandy came running up, and bent over the dead lynx. When the cat\u2019s last\nstruggles ceased, the boys hauled it into the firelight.\n\u201cI was scared half to death,\u201d Sandy grinned sheepishly. \u201cI was dreaming\nwe were in Fort Good Faith with Uncle Walter and about a million wild\nIndians were whooping and shooting at the stockade.\u201d\n\u201cYou can bet your bottom dollar I didn\u2019t feel so calm about the time\nthat lynx came around the canoe and looked me in the eye,\u201d Dick\nconfessed. \u201cI never took aim at all\u2014just blazed away. Lucky shot I call\nit. I thought it was some one trying to steal our canoe.\u201d\n\u201cWhat time is it?\u201d Sandy inquired, getting up and stretching.\nDick drew out a fine watch which had been a graduation present. \u201cOnly\nten o\u2019clock,\u201d he reported. \u201cYou can go back to bed, Sandy. My watch\nisn\u2019t half done.\u201d\nThe young adventurers talked a few minutes after Sandy was back in his\nblankets. But Sandy soon fell asleep. In spite of the excitement brought\non by the killing of the lynx, Sandy was so tired that he went back to\nsleep almost immediately.\nDick looked down at the lynx. \u201cHe\u2019s sure a beauty,\u201d he whispered\nproudly. \u201cI kind of wish I hadn\u2019t killed him now. It\u2019s a shame to kill\nanimals when a fellow can\u2019t use their fur or meat.\u201d\nHe returned to his position in the shadow of the willows and sat there\npatiently until midnight, when it was time to awaken Sandy. The fire had\ndied down and he heaped more wood on it. He never felt more wide awake\nin his life. Sandy was sleeping soundly.\n\u201cSandy, you\u2019re pretty tired,\u201d Dick murmured, looking down at his chum,\n\u201cand I feel just about as fresh as when we pitched camp. Guess I won\u2019t\nwake you up\u2014just let you sleep until morning.\u201d\nThere was an affection like brotherhood between the two boys, who had\nbeen neighbors and chums from infancy up. And since Dick was two years\nolder than Sandy, he often felt somewhat like an older brother would\nfeel toward a younger. Perhaps this induced Dick to resume his watch\nwithout awakening Sandy.\nWhen Dick sat down again he was sure he could stay awake all night, but\nthe flicker of the firelight, the whispering silence of the forest, and\nthe ripple of the river were like a pleasant lullaby. Before he knew it\nhe was nodding, and presently he fell sound asleep. Head drooping over\nhis knees, Dick slept unknowing, while the fire died down and the deep\nblackness of the northland night crept over the silent camp.\nSandy awakened with a start at four o\u2019clock. It still was dark, as the\ndays were shortening with the approach of winter. He did not know why\nDick had not awakened him, and he was at first fearful that something\nhad happened to his chum.\n\u201cDick, Dick,\u201d he called softly, sitting up in his blankets, trying to\npierce the gloom with his eyes.\nThere came no answer. Quietly Sandy reached out and one hand closed on\nhis rifle. The feel of the cold steel comforted him. He had begun to\nlearn what an encouraging companion a firearm can be in those lonely\nclimes where they are necessary if one would live long.\nArising, Sandy began a search of the camp and quickly came upon Dick,\nsound asleep a little way off.\n\u201cHo, ho,\u201d laughed Sandy mischievously, \u201cI\u2019ve got one on you now, old\nboy. Asleep on watch, huh. I\u2019ll fix you.\u201d\nHis fears relieved, Sandy\u2019s sense of humor cropped out. He could not\nresist playing a good joke on his chum.\nSandy thought a moment, then hit upon an idea, which he quickly put into\nexecution. The fire had gone out, and Sandy\u2019s scheme was no other than\nto rebuild it so close to Dick that it would sizzle the sleeping lad\u2019s\nchin.\nSoon Sandy had the fire crackling and snapping within two feet of Dick\u2019s\nface, as he lay on the pine needles where he had fallen over during the\nnight.\nSetting about breakfast, Sandy chuckled as he watched Dick begin to\nsquirm and mutter in his sleep as the heat reached him.\nAt last Dick turned over, and flinging out one hand, almost plunged it\ninto the fire. Sandy cried out sharply, and jumped forward to keep\nDick\u2019s hand out of the fire, when his chum leaped up wide awake.\n\u201cWhat! How\u2014\u2014\u201d Dick stammered, blinking his eyes.\nSandy doubled up with laughter. Dick soon saw the joke and joined Sandy\nin a hearty laugh. Then he quickly grew serious.\n\u201cThat\u2019s the worst thing I could have done,\u201d Dick accused himself.\n\u201cSuppose Henderson\u2019s men had crept up on us while I was asleep. Sandy,\nI\u2019ll never forgive myself for this. I can\u2019t blame them for shooting\nsoldiers that sleep on guard duty\u2014after tonight.\u201d\n\u201cOh, never mind,\u201d Sandy\u2019s optimism came to the front. \u201cWhat\u2019s the\ndifference. We\u2019re safe and sound, aren\u2019t we?\u201d\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t excuse me for neglecting my duty,\u201d Dick insisted. But as\nhe reached for the tin plate of bacon and camp bread that Sandy handed\nhim, Dick cheered up. \u201cWhat beats me,\u201d he concluded, \u201cis that I was\ngoing to let you sleep till morning, Sandy. Guess I wasn\u2019t as tough as I\nthought I was.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s just like you,\u201d Sandy retorted. \u201cJust because you\u2019re a couple of\nyears older than I you think you ought to do all the heavy work.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll see that you do your night watching after this,\u201d Dick\npromised. \u201cAnd now we\u2019d better get started. If those fellows kept on\nafter us they\u2019ve had just about time enough to catch up.\u201d\nIt did not take the boys long to break camp. The trail that led along\nthe bank past the dangerous Little Moose Rapids to safe water was on the\nother bank of the river, and Dick and Sandy prepared to paddle across.\nOnce on the trail, they planned to shoulder their packs and the canoe\nfor the jaunt over the portage. They shoved out the canoe without mishap\nand were cutting across the swift current of the Big Smokey river above\nthe rapids, when on the other shore, at the point where they intended\nlanding, Dick thought he saw a wisp of smoke ascending, as from a\ncampfire recently extinguished.\n\u201cSandy, do you see any one over there?\u201d Dick called.\n\u201cI see a kind of smoke haze among those little spruce trees,\u201d Sandy\nreplied.\n\u201cYou know what I think?\u201d Dick went on, sturdily plying his paddle, \u201cthat\ngang is waiting for us over there. They\u2019re in ambush. As soon as we get\nclose in they\u2019ll open fire. I\u2019ll bet I\u2019m right. If I am we don\u2019t dare\ntry to land.\u201d\n\u201cWell, there\u2019s no trail around the rapids on the side we camped,\u201d Sandy\nreturned. \u201cWe\u2019d have to detour about twelve miles that way to get back\nto the Big Smokey.\u201d\nThey were slowly drawing closer to the opposite bank, the swift current\npulling them downstream a little in spite of their efforts. The boys\nwere silent as they drew closer, undecided which way to turn, almost\ncertain now that a warm reception awaited them on the portage trail\nlanding. Suddenly Dick spoke cooly, but tensely:\n\u201cBackwater, Sandy. Don\u2019t act excited. We don\u2019t dare go on. I just saw\ntwo rifle barrels thrust over a hump of moss on a fallen tree.\u201d\nSandy did not falter at the warning. He reversed his paddle, as Dick was\ndoing, and the canoe came almost to a standstill.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to shoot the rapids!\u201d Dick\u2019s voice was like the snap of a\nwhip as he made known his daring resolve.\n                         DICK SHOOTS THE RAPIDS\nAt Little Moose Rapids the Big Smokey river plunged through a gorge\nnearly a half mile long before it finally came once more to a gentler\nincline where canoeing was safe. Only the most daring of canoeists ever\nrisked piloting a frail craft through this treacherous stretch of water,\nand many who had dared had been drowned. Dick\u2019s last minute resolution\nwas one of desperation. Though he and Sandy were experts with the\npaddle, yet they never would have considered attempting to shoot any\nrapids had death or capture not threatened them.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll never make it!\u201d the optimistic Sandy was shaken from his\ncheeriness by Dick\u2019s desperate resolve.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to!\u201d shouted Dick, as with one strong stroke of his paddle he\nswerved the canoe head on with the current, and they sped straight\ntoward the gorge.\nAt the maneuver they heard an angry shout from the shore that had been\ntheir destination. Even at that distance they could detect the menace in\nthat cry, and with added zeal they bent to their paddles.\nThen a rifle cracked and a ball whistled across the water behind them.\nAnother and another shot was fired while they sped on swifter and\nswifter.\n\u201cWe\u2019re getting out of range!\u201d Dick cried.\n\u201cI hope so,\u201d panted Sandy.\n\u201cThey\u2019re poor marksmen, anyhow,\u201d Dick returned.\nThey both fell silent as they left one danger behind, only to face one\nalmost as threatening.\nThe river swiftly narrowed and deepened as they swept down between the\nhigh walls of the gorge. A sullen roar of the water against the numerous\nrocks and against the solid walls could be heard. The canoe seemed to\nshoot ahead like a leaf on the wind. Louder and louder grew the sound of\nrushing water. Then the boys saw the first wave of foam and spray where\nthe water whirled among several huge boulders.\nSandy was in the bow, Dick in the stern when they struck the first angry\nwhirlpool.\n\u201cUse your paddle to push off the rocks,\u201d shouted Dick above the rumble\nof the water.\nThey scudded past a huge, wet boulder, seemed almost flung against\nanother, only to be whisked into a deep pool where it was all Dick and\nSandy could do to keep the canoe from turning clear around. Out of the\npool, they danced on once more. The rapids were clear of rocks for a\nspace, but they were moving so fast that it seemed no time before they\nreached a giant buttress of stone that seemed to bar the way.\n\u201cPush off,\u201d cried Dick. \u201cI\u2019ll backwater. Heave now. Here we go!\u201d\nThey shaved the bluff so closely that the grind of the canoe upon the\nrock could be heard. The dash of water against the cliff showered down\nupon them, and the canoe took in a bucketful.\n\u201cDip the water out!\u201d shouted Dick, while they spun into another deep\npool, the cliff behind them.\nSandy began frantically bailing out the water with his hat, while Dick\ndesperately held the canoe bow against the current.\nThe gorge was deeper now, almost shutting out the early morning\nsunlight. All about spray flew in the air, like driving mist, and the\nroar of rushing water was almost deafening. The canoe was holding up\nwell, yet its two occupants realized its frail shell would be shattered\nto atoms if but once it was thrown upon one of the countless rocks they\nseemed to miss by inches.\n\u201cI hope we don\u2019t hit a waterfall,\u201d shouted Sandy as he ceased bailing\nwater and drew a long breath.\n\u201cLet \u2019er come,\u201d responded Dick daringly, swerving the canoe this way and\nthat with a lusty stroke of his paddle.\n\u201cLook out, another rock!\u201d\nSandy turned from his bailing and grasped his paddle just in time. In a\ncrouch he met the boulder with the end of the paddle and pushed. The\ncanoe forged off to the left, dodged in between two other rocks, and\nonce more they reached a space comparatively straight and free from\nobstructions. Like an arrow they shot onward.\nThe noise of the foaming water was fast increasing in volume. Dick\nfeared a waterfall, and silently he nerved himself for it, and none too\nsoon. Dashing down a narrow channel and bobbing around a curve like a\ncork on ocean waves, he saw ahead a mist of spray and the rumble of\nfalling water burst upon his ears.\nSandy could not suppress a cry of terror, but white-lipped Dick managed\nto hold his breath for what was to come. \u201cHold tight!\u201d he shouted to his\nchum. \u201cI\u2019ll hold her straight, and we\u2019ll dive over. We\u2019ve a chance. It\u2019s\nnot high.\u201d\nStraight toward the edge of the waterfall the canoe shot with terrific\nspeed. The rumble of the water was frightful. Then they went over. One\nglimpse they had of the whirlpools boiling below the falls as the prow\nof the canoe swept over and the light craft leaped into the misty air,\nlike a ski jumper.\nIt was only a short drop of about five feet, but when the canoe struck\nthe churning water, it spun and spun about, wallowing in the foam. Dick\nand Sandy were drenched to the skin in a moment. All they could do was\ncling to the canoe, hoping against hope.\n\u201cHang to that rock ahead, if we go under!\u201d Dick cried, above the thunder\nof the falls.\n\u201cI can\u2019t see!\u201d Sandy shouted back, rubbing the water from his eyes and\ncoughing.\nThen the canoe struck something submerged, and turned over on its side,\ntipping Dick and Sandy into the boiling whirlpools.\nDick clung to the side of the canoe as the water washed over him. For an\ninstant Sandy disappeared, then Dick saw him come up, also clinging to\nthe canoe, which had not entirely turned over, but had shipped so much\nwater that it was sinking.\nPresently, canoe and swimmers were whipped into a deep pool below the\nfalls, and Dick and Sandy began desperately flinging water out of their\ncraft. A little later they crawled back into their canoe, wet as half\ndrowned rats, and Dick pushed off into the center of the stream.\nThe worst was over. Below the falls the gorge widened out slowly and the\ncurrent grew more sluggish. For a quarter of an hour they glided on\nsilently without need of their paddles, except to keep the craft in the\ncenter of the stream.\n\u201cWhew! I hope we don\u2019t run into any more rapids,\u201d Sandy breathed more\nfreely.\nDick emphatically agreed. \u201cNext time,\u201d said he, \u201cI\u2019ll prefer facing the\nbullets, I think. Gee, if the fellows back in the U. S. A. knew what\nwe\u2019d just gone through they\u2019d have a fit.\u201d\n\u201cThey\u2019ll never believe it,\u201d Sandy opined.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll make \u2019em believe it if we live to tell it,\u201d vowed Dick, pulling\nextra hard on his paddle and making the canoe leap forward like a live\nthing. \u201cBut, to change the subject, I guess we left the enemy behind\nthis time.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll say so,\u201d Sandy came back, \u201cbut two duckings in two days isn\u2019t\nfair. Where can I stop off and get dry?\u201d\n\u201cI think we\u2019d better keep moving till noon,\u201d Dick advised. \u201cThen we can\nkill two birds with one stone\u2014eat and dry off too.\u201d\nSandy saw the wisdom of this and fell silent, bending his energies to\nthe paddle. They made good time until about noon, when they espied a\nsandy shoal ahead of them that promised plenty of dry firewood for a\ncampfire. They drew in, beached the canoe and made camp. An hour later,\ndry again and in good spirits, they pushed off and went on down the\nriver.\n\u201cSeems as if I smell burning wood in the air,\u201d Dick remarked a couple of\nmiles further on.\n\u201cI do too,\u201d Sandy replied, \u201c\u2014\u2014must be a forest fire somewhere near.\u201d\n\u201cHope it\u2019s not too near,\u201d said Dick, \u201ca forest fire would hold us up a\nwhile even if we are on the river. I\u2019ve heard my father tell about the\nfires they used to have in Oregon. They\u2019re no joke.\u201d\nSandy was about to add what he knew of forest fires when they both\nsighted another canoe toiling upstream. At that distance they could not\nat first distinguish whether there was more than one in the canoe.\nHowever, they held any stranger they might meet a possible enemy, since\nMartin MacLean had told them how far-reaching was the hand of Bear\nHenderson, and so they prepared for hostility.\nSlowly the two canoes drew together. Sandy quietly picked up his rifle,\nwhile Dick continued paddling. They could now see there was but one man\nin the canoe.\n\u201cHello there,\u201d Dick hailed.\nThe stranger waved a hand, ceased paddling, except to hold his canoe\nagainst the current, and waited for the boys to glide up. He was a tall\nman, with long, dark hair and a leathery face.\n\u201cWhere you goin\u2019?\u201d he asked as the canoe prows touched.\n\u201cMackenzie\u2019s Landing,\u201d Dick replied, seeing nothing hostile in the\nother\u2019s demeanor, and seeing no reason why he should not reveal his\ndestination, if not his errand.\n\u201cI got my grub stole back river a piece,\u201d the stranger said, pointing\nover his shoulder with one thumb. \u201cHave you fellers got plenty of grub?\u201d\n\u201cSure,\u201d Dick answered. \u201cWant to eat with us? Our grub\u2019s a little wet,\nbut it swallows all right.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d be obliged,\u201d the stranger returned, \u201cbut mebbe you wasn\u2019t figgerin\u2019\nto stop jest now.\u201d\n\u201cWe just had a snack,\u201d Dick admitted, \u201cbut if you\u2019re hungry we\u2019ll split\nwhat we have.\u201d\n\u201cI jest need enough to get me to Fort du Lac.\u201d\n\u201cFort du Lac!\u201d Dick and Sandy chorused. \u201cWe just came from there!\u201d\n\u201cSo? Wal, it\u2019ll be nigh three days canoein\u2019 up river, an\u2019 I\u2019ll need\ngrub. No time to hunt. You fellers didn\u2019t happen to run across an Injun\nwith a heap of scars on his face?\u201d the man asked, searching their faces.\n\u201cA scar faced Indian!\u201d Sandy exclaimed. \u201cWhy\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cWell, yes,\u201d Dick broke in with a warning look at his chum. \u201cWe noticed\na fellow of that description at the fort. Didn\u2019t think much about him,\u201d\nDick was cautious.\n\u201cYou fellers needn\u2019t be afraid to tell me all you know,\u201d the stranger\nhad noticed Dick\u2019s reserve and his interruption of Sandy. \u201cI ain\u2019t\npublishin\u2019 my business but my name\u2019s Slade.\u201d\n\u201cNot Malemute Slade, the scout for the mounted!\u201d Dick exclaimed, for the\nman\u2019s reputation as a scout was a fable in the north country, and many\ntimes he had heard it spoken with awe and admiration.\n\u201cThere\u2019s them call me Malemute Slade,\u201d admitted the tall man cooly, \u201cbut\nwhat was that about this here scar faced Indian?\u201d\nDick then related the queer experiences at the fort.\nThe canoes were permitted to drift on down the river while they talked.\nMalemute Slade listened attentively.\n\u201cHis name\u2019s Many-Scar Jackson,\u201d Slade told them when they had finished\nwith their story. \u201cHe\u2019s wanted for murder down the river a piece. But\nthat\u2019s nothin\u2019 to this Henderson breakin\u2019 loose. That\u2019s news to me, an\u2019\nit\u2019ll be news for the mounted maybe. I\u2019ve heard rumors f\u2019r a long time,\nbut didn\u2019t think much of it. A tough customer, Henderson. You fellers\nwants to watch y\u2019r step. If I seen any of the gang that was foller\u2019n you\nI\u2019ll square up with \u2019em.\u201d\nIn the keen eyes and the lean jaw of the far-famed Malemute Slade the\nboys saw that which made them confident that Slade could \u201csquare up\u201d\nwith most any one or any number.\n\u201cTell the factor you saw us and that we\u2019re all right\u2014only got a ducking\nwhen we shot Little Moose Rapids,\u201d Dick said.\nMalemute Slade\u2019s eyes lighted up. He looked with new respect at Dick\u2019s\nwiry figure. \u201cSo you fellers shot the Little Moose an\u2019 come through\nalive\u2014wal, I swan. You must have toted a dozen rabbit\u2019s feet.\u201d\n\u201cNot a one,\u201d Dick replied modestly, while Sandy grinned with pride.\n\u201cY\u2019r apt to have somethin\u2019 worse on your hands afore you get to\nMackenzie\u2019s,\u201d Malemute surprised them. \u201cThere\u2019s a forest fire whoopin\u2019\nit up back a piece, an\u2019 it\u2019ll maybe hit the river afore you pass it.\nThere\u2019s a bit of smoke in the air now. Hey!\u201d\nDick and Sandy started up and looked where Slade pointed.\nNearly four hundred yards down the river a stag had come down to drink\nand was standing half in and half out of the water. The canoes were\nslowly drifting down upon it.\n\u201cYou fellers want a fresh haunch o\u2019 venison f\u2019r tonight?\u201d queried\nMalemute.\n\u201cYou bet!\u201d Dick and Sandy chimed, \u201cbut the deer\u2019s seen us and we can\u2019t\nget close enough for a shot.\u201d\n\u201cReckon I can drop him from here,\u201d Malemute Slade replied cooly.\n\u201cWhat!\u201d Dick exclaimed incredulously.\nMalemute\u2019s only reply was slowly to raise his 45.70 lever action rifle\nto his shoulder. Dick and Sandy watched breathlessly. Motionless as a\nstatue, the big man took aim before his rifle crashed. As the echo of\nthe shot sounded in the silent forest, the stag leaped upward and fell\ninto the river with a soundless splash.\n\u201cNow you fellers split your grub with me, an\u2019 I\u2019ll be goin\u2019 on. If I had\ntime I\u2019d paddle down an\u2019 cut a hunk off that deer. But I\u2019ll have to be\nmoochin\u2019.\u201d\nMalemute Slade thought nothing of the wonderful exhibition of\nmarkmanship he had just made, and Dick and Sandy were awed to silence as\nthey undid their packs and transferred half their food into the scout\u2019s\ncanoe.\nMalemute Slade paid them in king\u2019s coin for the provisions.\n\u201cYou\u2019ll probably see me again afore this Henderson business is over, but\nit\u2019s hard tellin\u2019,\u201d was Malemute\u2019s parting prophecy. \u201cAu revoir.\u201d\n\u201cAu revoir,\u201d the boys sang out the French \u201cso long,\u201d and started on to\nwhere the stag had fallen.\nLate that evening, making camp at a point they judged somewhere within\nfifty miles of Mackenzie\u2019s Landing, the smoke of the forest fire was so\nstrong it made them cough. They had paddled a little way up a small\ncreek for the night, thinking to make themselves more secure from a\npossible night attack from Henderson\u2019s men, who seemed so determined\nthey should not get to the mounted police.\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid we\u2019re in for it,\u201d Dick shook his head concernedly.\n\u201cIt sure feels as if we were close to a fire,\u201d Sandy agreed dubiously.\n\u201cWell, we\u2019ll need all the sleep we can get at any rate,\u201d Dick concluded,\nas he rolled into his blankets, and Sandy prepared for the first watch.\nThat night Dick slept fitfully. The place where they had camped was in a\ndeep coulee, unwooded except for a few clumps of red willow. Straight\nabove them, at the top of an almost perpendicular wall of red shale and\ncrumbling sandstone, was a dark fringe, which marked the beginning of a\nmighty forest of spruce and jack pine. Moaning in his sleep, Dick sat up\nand commenced rubbing his eyes. Then he paused to stare in open-mouthed\nwonder.\nThe coulee was full of smoke. It floated around them in a ever\nthickening cloud, while above, plainly visible in the glare of the\nconflagration, sweeping down from the north, he beheld a thick, dense\ncolumn of smoke, which seemed to span the coulee like a black bridge.\nTen feet away, Sandy, on sentinel duty, coughed and dug at his eyes. In\nalarm, Dick threw aside his blankets and crawled hurriedly forward to\nconsult with his chum.\n\u201cSandy!\u201d he shouted, \u201cthe fire is all around us. We\u2019ll die like rats in\na trap if we stay here. Why didn\u2019t you awaken me before? Let\u2019s hurry\nback to the river and our canoe.\u201d\n\u201cCan\u2019t,\u201d said Sandy laconically, \u201cI\u2019ve been watching that. There\u2019s a\nbelt of fire between us and the river. We should never have camped so\nfar away from it.\u201d\n\u201cWell, you know we thought we\u2019d be safer from Henderson\u2019s men up here,\u201d\nDick replied.\nThe boys could hear plainly the howling of the wind and the distant,\nthunderous roar of the fire. Accustomed as he had become to danger since\nhis sojourn in the north, Dick could not overcome a sudden feeling of\nfear and apprehension.\n\u201cWhere will we go?\u201d shivered Sandy. \u201cIt seems to be all around us.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to go through it somehow,\u201d Dick answered, not altogether\nsure, himself, what ought to be done. \u201cIt\u2019s dangerous to remain here any\nlonger. What do you think is best?\u201d\nSandy, eyes running water, scratched his head in perplexity.\n\u201cIf we could get to the river,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019d be safe. I don\u2019t see any\nother way.\u201d\nA few moments later, two disconsolate figures clambered up the side of\nthe coulee and struck off hurriedly at right angles with the fire. With\na catch in his throat, Dick perceived the huge walls of flames bearing\ndown upon them. For several miles, at least, they were cut off from the\nriver. Even the sky glowed dully like a large orange disk through a\nthick blanket of smoke.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that!\u201d exclaimed Sandy, suddenly starting back.\nSomething had shot past them through the underbrush\u2014a heavy body,\nhurtling along in mute terror. Almost immediately came other bodies,\nsmall and large\u2014rabbits scurrying almost between their legs; deer,\njumping past in a wild stampede; bear and moose, crashing their way\nforward in a cumbersome, heart-stirring panic, as they ran from the\nfire.\n\u201cIf they\u2019re afraid, it\u2019s about time we were,\u201d Sandy declared grimly,\nthrough set teeth. \u201cIf this smoke gets any worse we\u2019ll be suffocated in\nanother ten minutes. My throat feels as if I had been drinking liquid\nfire for a week.\u201d\nTwenty feet away a flying ember settled down on the dry grass and\nimmediately burst into flames. With the ever increasing velocity of the\nwind, similar patches of fire sprang up around them on every side.\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid,\u201d said Dick, fighting bravely against mounting despair,\n\u201cthat we\u2019ll never make it. I never saw such a wind.\u201d\nSandy did not reply. With handkerchiefs pressed to their noses and\nmouths, the boys struggled forward for another quarter of a mile.\nBy this time the heat had become terrific. Dick\u2019s face felt as if it had\nbeen washed in a bucket of lye. Sandy\u2019s cheeks were streaked with tears,\nnot tears of grief, but tears of misery from smoke-tortured, bloodshot\neyes.\n\u201cNo use,\u201d choked Sandy, plunging down a short embankment with Dick at\nhis heels. \u201cI\u2019m about ready to quit. You see,\u201d he explained, struggling\nwith the lump in his throat, \u201cI\u2019m getting dizzier and dizzier every\nminute. This heat and smoke is getting me.\u201d\nDick put out his hand with an assurance he did not feel, and patted his\nchum on the shoulder.\n\u201cBuck up,\u201d Dick encouraged, \u201cwe\u2019ll get out of this somehow. I tell you,\nSandy, we\u2019ve got to do it. Maybe this\u2014\u2014\u201d\nDick never finished what he was about to say. His foot slipped, and with\na startled exclamation, he pitched forward, completely upsetting Sandy.\nIn a moment both boys had rolled and slid down a steep bank. It seemed\nthere was no end to the fall, and Dick\u2019s heart almost failed him as he\nthought of what fate might meet them below. Perhaps they were rolling\ntoward the brink of a cliff hundreds of feet high, perhaps they would\nfall into some rock cluttered canyon, or again, they might be drowned in\nsome deep lake at the bottom of the bank.\nThen they reached the bottom with a jarring impact that shook the breath\nfrom their bodies. When they recovered enough to look each other over,\nDick was sitting upright, astride of Sandy, who lay in a crumpled,\ngroaning heap under him. Dick heard, or thought he heard, the trickle of\nrunning water. His right foot felt pleasantly cool. When he put out his\nhand to investigate his fingers encountered water.\nSandy was half submerged in a tiny pool, and was sinking fast, before\nDick could pull him back to safety. Dazed from the fall, Sandy sputtered\na moment, then inquired excitedly:\n\u201cHave we got to the bottom?\u201d\n\u201cI guess so,\u201d replied Dick. \u201cAt any rate there seems to be a sort of\ncreek running along here. Are you all right, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cWell, if I\u2019m not, I soon will be,\u201d answered Sandy, more cheerfully.\n\u201cWait till I get a drink of this water. Boy, I\u2019m dry. Do you think we\u2019ll\nbe safe here?\u201d\nBy way of answer, Dick pointed up to the wide belt of fire. \u201cIt\u2019s closer\nthan it was before. We\u2019re protected down here from the heat and smoke,\nbut that won\u2019t last long. In two hours this place will be as hot as a\nstove. Our only chance is to keep on moving.\u201d\n\u201cI hate to leave this water,\u201d said Sandy, gulping large mouthfuls of it.\n\u201cI don\u2019t intend leaving the water,\u201d Dick assured him. \u201cIt\u2019s just\noccurred to me that our best plan will be to follow this little creek.\nIt\u2019s probably fed from a spring and will eventually run either into a\nlake or river. Once we get into more water we\u2019ll be pretty safe.\u201d\nSandy thought Dick was right, and a few minutes later, greatly\nrefreshed, they set out again, following the creek downstream.\nTwo miles further on the creek ran into a larger stream, and a little\nlater as they hurried around a curve, Sandy, who was in the lead, gave\nvent to an exclamation of despair.\n\u201cLook at that!\u201d he shouted. \u201cThe fire has cut in ahead of us.\u201d\nSandy was right. Not more than a quarter mile downstream, the fire was\nraging on both sides of the creek, and even as they looked, a large jack\npine, flaming to the top of its highest branches, swayed suddenly in the\nwind and went crashing forward in a shower of sparks and burning embers.\nSick at heart, the two young adventurers stood for a short time,\nscarcely daring to think of their predicament. Apparently there was\nlittle chance of escape, the main body of the fire behind them, another\nfire sweeping ahead.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to get through,\u201d Dick muttered. \u201cWe\u2019ll have to take a chance,\nSandy. The fire ahead hasn\u2019t been burning long and it\u2019s not as far\nthrough it\u2014maybe not more than a hundred yards. Somehow, I feel certain\nthat this creek will take us straight on to the Big Smokey where we left\nthe canoe.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s face brightened a little. \u201cI believe you\u2019re right, Dick. If a\nburning tree or branch doesn\u2019t fall on us, we can make it. We\u2019ll have to\nwade right down through the center of the stream. If it gets too hot we\ncan dive under the water. I\u2019m going to take off my shirt, soak it in\nwater and breathe with it around my head.\u201d\n\u201cA good idea,\u201d approved Dick. \u201cI\u2019ll do it too.\u201d\nA half hour later, two boys emerged, wet and blackened, from a cloud of\nsmoke and flame and advanced painfully along the creek to a point where\nit emptied into the Big Smokey river. Behind them thundered the terrible\nconflagration, getting closer every moment. Moose, deer and caribou\nstood trembling at the river\u2019s edge, or struck boldly out into the\nstream. The boys turned north and followed the river for a mile before\nthey discovered the object they sought. It was daylight now, though the\nsmoke made it difficult to see far. Yet the light, graceful Peterboro\ncanoe, loaded with supplies, did not miss their searching eyes. As they\npushed it into the river and climbed in, Dick Kent gave voice to a\nfervent exclamation.\n\u201cWe made it, Sandy!\u201d he exulted, as he dipped his paddle once more into\nthe bosom of the Big Smokey.\nSandy was about to share Dick\u2019s rejoicing, when the movements of a huge\nbrown bear, which had splashed into the water behind them, attracted his\nattention. The bear was swimming straight for the canoe.\n\u201cShove out quick!\u201d cried Sandy suddenly, but too late.\nThe brown bear, blinded by smoke, and thinking the canoe some log to\ncling to, clawed at the rim of the frail craft and pulled down. The\ncanoe went over, spilling its contents into the river, while the bear,\nfinding the craft unstable, swam on out into the river.\nThe plunge into the river revived both Dick and Sandy. Gasping, they\ncame up for air, only to breathe the choking smoke and gases of the\nburning forest. They knew that the canoe was upside down and that their\npacks were in the bottom of the river. The bear was nowhere to be seen.\n\u201cAre you all right, Sandy?\u201d called Dick, hoarsely.\n\u201cYou bet,\u201d Sandy replied, a bit faintly.\nAmong the burning brands sizzling in the water, and the flying sparks,\nthey struggled with the canoe. In a few minutes they had righted it,\nthough it was half full of water. The paddles, they could see, had gone\nwith the packs.\n\u201cLook for a paddle!\u201d shouted Dick. \u201cThey must be floating around\nsomewhere.\u201d\n\u201cThere! I see one,\u201d Sandy dived off as he spoke, and swam back quickly\nwith a paddle in one hand.\nBut look as they did they could not locate the other paddle.\n\u201cWe can\u2019t look any longer. We\u2019ll have to change off with one paddle,\u201d\nDick called a little later.\nDick paddling, they started on. The heat still was stifling, but they\nfelt that the air was growing cooler. The wind seemed in their faces,\nwhich would tend to bear the fire back along the river. Wild animals of\nall kinds still could be seen in the water, wallowing along the shore or\nswimming the stream. But they had no more dangerous encounters with the\nfrightened beasts.\nTwo hours of paddling, shifting the paddle back and forth between them\nas soon as one grew tired, and they came to a comparatively clear\nstretch of water. Here the fire was deeper in the forest, and had not\neaten out to the bank yet. In greedy gasps, Dick and Sandy drew in the\ngusts of cool, pure air that were wafted over them.\n\u201cLook back, Sandy,\u201d Dick called.\nThe whole sky was a mass of red flames behind them, and an ocean of\nsmoke was rolling ceaselessly upward.\n\u201cMackenzie\u2019s Landing can\u2019t be much further,\u201d Sandy said when they had\nlooked their last upon the great fire.\n\u201cNo, we ought to make it by night. We\u2019ll have to make it or camp without\ngrub or blankets. I prefer going on,\u201d Dick stated.\n\u201cSo do I,\u201d Sandy rejoined.\nSome distance further on, as they rounded a huge bend in the stream,\nthey could not suppress a cheer. In the distance they could see the\nshoulder of a high, barren bluff which was the ten-mile landmark on the\ntrip to Mackenzie\u2019s Landing.\nIt was late in the afternoon when in the distance they at last viewed\nthe stockade and roofs of Malcolm Mackenzie\u2019s trading post. Blackened\nand disheveled, nearly exhausted, they guided their canoe to the pier,\nwhere three half-breeds were watching them curiously. The half-breeds\nhelped them secure their canoe, and listened without comment to some of\ntheir story of the eventful journey.\n\u201cMalcolm Mackenzie, he sick,\u201d one of the half-breeds told them. \u201cNo can\ngo. Him burned bad when fight with fire.\u201d\n\u201cDid you hear that?\u201d Dick turned to Sandy.\n\u201cYes\u2014just our luck. Now what?\u201d Sandy returned, a little disheartened, as\nthe half-breeds led the way into the stockade.\n\u201cWe can talk to Mr. Mackenzie, can\u2019t we?\u201d Dick asked one of the men, as\nthey entered the post.\n\u201cYah, I guess.\u201d\nPresently, they were ushered into a room smelling of liniment and\narnica. On a bunk lay Malcolm Mackenzie, his head and one arm swathed in\nbandages. Evidently he was suffering considerably from serious burns. He\nturned his head as the boys came in.\n\u201cBear Henderson has captured Fort Good Faith,\u201d Dick blurted out. \u201cMy\nfriend\u2019s uncle has been imprisoned. Mr. MacLean sent us to you. He said\nyou would lead us to the mounted police post at Fort Dunwoody.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve feared this,\u201d Malcolm Mackenzie\u2019s eyes narrowed, \u201cbut you see how\nit is with me, boys. I can\u2019t travel. Got some bad burns while fighting\nthat forest fire. But I can send an Indian who knows the trail.\u201d He\nturned to one of the half-breeds, who was standing behind Dick and\nSandy. \u201cSend in Little John Toma,\u201d he commanded.\nA little later Dick and Sandy saw a young Indian enter. He was handsome\nin a dark, inscrutable way, and though not very tall, was powerfully\nbuilt. He stood respectfully at attention, seeming more intelligent than\nmany of his kind.\n\u201cToma,\u201d Mackenzie spoke, \u201cI want you to lead these young men to Fort\nDunwoody as fast as you can. Travel light. You ought to make it in four\ndays if everything goes right.\u201d He turned back to the boys. \u201cDid MacLean\nsay anything about a cache of grub along the way?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d Dick reached into his pocket and drew out the map the trader had\ndrawn indicating the position of the cache of food on the trail to Fort\nDunwoody.\nMackenzie took the map, glanced at it and handed it to Toma. \u201cIt\u2019s on\nLimping Dog Creek,\u201d said Mackenzie, \u201cjust where that gorge you follow\nintersects the stream. You know the place.\u201d To Dick and Sandy:\n\u201cIntroduce yourselves and get acquainted. Toma will get everything ready\nfor you to go on. Take a rest as soon as you eat. Oh, Calico, Calico!\u201d\nhe called to some one.\nAs the boys and Little John Toma passed out, a large, waddling Indian\nwoman came in. They heard Mackenzie instructing her to get a meal ready\nfor his visitors before the bear-skin curtain dropped behind them and\nthey found themselves in the spacious living room of the post.\nDick and Sandy awkwardly introduced themselves to the young Indian who\nwas to be their guide.\n\u201cGlad to meet,\u201d Toma surprised them by saying, his teeth flashing\nwhitely in a smile.\nDick and Sandy quickly felt that they were going to like Toma.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet he\u2019s the son of a chief,\u201d Sandy said to Dick, when the young\nIndian had gone, and they were busy at the wash bench, scrubbing off\nsome of the smoke and ashes of the forest fire.\nThe boys ate heartily of the food the Indian woman placed before them on\nthe rough board table. As soon as they were through they were shown to a\ncomfortable bunk behind moose-hide curtains. Scarcely had they lay down\nwhen they fell into sound slumber.\nIt seemed to Dick Kent that he had only been asleep a moment when a\nhand, gently shaking his shoulder, awakened him. He looked up into the\nsmiling face of Toma, the young guide.\n\u201cTime to go,\u201d said Toma. \u201cYou wake up other fella.\u201d\nAs the curtains fell, and Toma disappeared, Dick turned and shook Sandy.\nAn hour later they bid goodbye to Malcolm Mackenzie and wished him\nspeedy recovery from his burns. The canoe lay ready packed with\nprovisions at the landing when they arrived there. Toma was starting to\npush off. Dick and Sandy hopped in, and Toma sprang lightly into the\nbow.\n\u201cNow for Fort Dunwoody,\u201d Dick breathed a sigh of relief.\n\u201cIf I wasn\u2019t an optimist,\u201d Sandy added, \u201cI\u2019d say we aren\u2019t there yet by\na long shot.\u201d\nToma silently sculled the craft into the center of the river, and they\nwere once more floating down the stream. The boys marveled at Toma\u2019s\ndeftness with the paddle, though they themselves were experts. The young\nIndian seemed able to make the canoe fly with his quick, powerful\nstrokes.\nA half hour of paddling and the roofs of Mackenzie\u2019s Landing had\ndisappeared in the haze of the morning, and once more the walls of the\nsilent spruce forest closed in on either side of them.\nLate that night they camped some twenty miles from the trading post, in\na little clearing at the river\u2019s edge. Toma mentioned \u201cbear sign,\u201d and\nso they hung up their flour and bacon on a tree bough for fear a bear\nmight get it.\nSandy kept first watch while Toma and Dick slept.\nIt was a dark night. Only the stars were out, and when the fire died\ndown Sandy scarcely could see a dozen paces from the camp. Occasionally\nhe glanced into the shadows, listening to the mysterious sounds of the\nforest, and starting up at each crackle of a twig or rustle of\nundergrowth.\nSandy wondered if the men on their trail had been thrown off, and\nimagined what he would do if they would suddenly attack. As he thought\nof the dangers threatening Dick and him, his hand tightened on his\nrifle.\nIt was nearly eleven o\u2019clock, the time he was to call Toma for the\nsecond watch, when Sandy became conscious of some sinister presence.\nBefore he really saw or heard anything, he shivered and looked fearfully\nabout into the gloom of the forest.\nA scratching and grunting noise attracted his attention to the tree\nwhere they had hung up the flour and bacon. It seemed he could hear the\nshuffle of heavy feet and the wheeze of giant lungs as he listened\nintently.\n\u201cI won\u2019t call Dick and Toma,\u201d thought Sandy. \u201cIt may be only my\nimagination. I\u2019ll go see what it is.\u201d\nHeart beating wildly, Sandy commenced to creep toward the point he had\nheard the noises. He could see nothing in the dark, yet as he strained\nhis eyes it seemed to him that one portion of the blackness was blacker\nthan the rest.\nSuddenly, he heard the crashing of a splintered tree bough. A low,\nvibrating growl followed, and Sandy dropped upon his stomach. There came\na slapping, thumping sound, then an angry growling and tussling. The\ndark blot lurched downward. Sandy raised his rifle and blazed away at\nthe shape. A rambling roar rose in the night.\n\u201cDick! Toma!\u201d cried Sandy, as he turned about and fled, hearing behind\nhim the rush of a heavy body pursuing him.\nToma and Dick were already on their feet when Sandy rushed toward them\nout of the gloom.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a bear, a giant bear!\u201d cried Sandy. \u201cRun! I\u2019ve wounded him!\u201d\nThe angry roar behind Sandy was all that was needed for Dick and Toma to\ntake to their heels with alacrity.\n\u201cGet up tree, get up tree!\u201d Toma called to them.\nFaster than they ever before had climbed a tree, Dick and Sandy shinned\nup one in the dark. The bear charged beneath them in the underbrush. The\nhuge beast wheeled on finding his prey had taken to the trees and\ncircled the trunk which supported Dick and Sandy. Toma\u2019s calm voice came\nthrough the gloom from a near-by tree:\n\u201cHim grizzly all right,\u201d Toma told them. \u201cYou stay in tree. I get down\nto rifle pretty quick.\u201d\n\u201cYou surely must have wounded the bear,\u201d Dick whispered to Sandy. \u201cI\u2019ve\nheard they won\u2019t attack unless they\u2019re wounded.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what I did,\u201d Sandy came back breathlessly. \u201cI just blazed\naway and ran. Believe me, I don\u2019t want to go down there again while that\nmonster is wandering around looking for me. He\u2019d chew us up in about two\nbites and a half.\u201d\nDick knew that Sandy\u2019s caution bump was working again, and he smiled in\nthe dark. He did not intend to let Toma go down after the bear alone.\nYet he believed the young Indian would protest if he revealed his\nintentions.\n\u201cGot your rifle?\u201d Dick called to Toma, not intimating his resolution.\n\u201cI got gun,\u201d Toma called back.\n\u201cI wish I\u2019d thought to bring mine along,\u201d Dick muttered, \u201cbut then it\ntakes an Indian to shin up a tree with a heavy rifle in his hand I\nsuppose. Anyway I have my knife.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t go down, Dick,\u201d whispered Sandy, as the bear crashed about in the\nbrush below them.\n\u201cNonsense, Sandy, I\u2019ve got as much chance as Toma. We can\u2019t let that\nbear wreck our camp. That\u2019s what he\u2019s up to.\u201d\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll go down too,\u201d Sandy stubbornly decided.\nThey could not hear Toma\u2019s movements with the bear making so much noise,\nbut Dick suspected the guide already had slipped down from his tree and\nwas stalking the wounded grizzly, perhaps close enough to get in a fatal\nshot.\nPresently, they could hear the bear make off into the gloom toward the\ncampfire. When Dick and Sandy dropped down out of the tree, the bear\nseemed to be on the other side of the campfire, clawing and mouthing\nover their dunnage.\n\u201cYou better stay up in the tree,\u201d Dick said.\n\u201cNot on your tintype,\u201d Sandy snapped. \u201cIf you go, I go.\u201d\n\u201cWell, then, we\u2019ve got to get our guns,\u201d said Dick. \u201cMine\u2019s right where\nI got out of my blankets.\u201d\n\u201cSeems to me I dropped mine just before I started climbing the tree,\u201d\nSandy was feeling around in the dark. \u201cYes, here it is,\u201d was his\ntriumphant call.\nToma seemingly had vanished. Since his last words, they had heard\nnothing more from him. Dick judged the guide was stalking the bear from\nsome other direction. At any moment he expected to hear the report of\nthe Indian\u2019s rifle, and see the flash of it in the gloom.\nSandy alone armed, save for Dick\u2019s hunting knife, the boys began a\nstealthy advance toward the camp where they could hear the bear slashing\nand groveling about, evidently in some pain, for they were sure now that\nSandy\u2019s shot had taken effect.\nThe coals of the campfire shed a faint glow. As the boys drew nearer, on\nhands and knees, they could see the bulk of the grizzly outlined. He\nseemed a mammoth of his kind, and indeed was a fearful beast to meet in\nthe forest.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet he\u2019s wrecked our camp outfit,\u201d Dick muttered. \u201cCareful, Sandy,\ndon\u2019t get too close. Let\u2019s wait till he gets away from the fire a little\nfurther, then I can get my rifle.\u201d\nScarcely were the words out of his mouth, when Toma\u2019s rifle crashed in\nthe dark on the left, and Dick and Sandy saw a streak of flame, and\nheard the roar of the bear, plainly hard hit. The grizzly rose upon his\nhind legs and turned toward the spot he believed his enemy was hidden.\nThen Sandy leveled his rifle and fired, drawing bead as best he could\njust under the huge beast\u2019s forelegs.\nAt this second shot, the bear seemed undecided just which way to charge.\nHe stopped, his head turning from side to side, growling horribly, not\nhit hard enough to fall.\nToma shot again, then Sandy. The grizzly dropped to all fours, and began\nclawing at his breast. Toma shot again from another position. The bear\nrose up again with a roar of pain and rage and started for Dick and\nSandy, who turned to flee. Then the big beast, without any apparent\nreason whatsoever, wheeled about and made off into the forest in the\nopposite direction.\n\u201cHe\u2019s hit hard!\u201d cried Dick, hurrying forward.\nToma came out of the gloom like a shadow. \u201cHe go off die,\u201d said the\nIndian. \u201cBe careful he no come back. I go see where he go.\u201d Toma\ndisappeared after cautioning the boys to stay where they were until he\nreturned.\nThe minutes passed slowly while Dick and Sandy waited the return of\nToma. Finally Dick grew impatient and was about to go on to the campfire\nfor his rifle, when Toma appeared again, as if he had risen out of the\nearth.\n\u201cShe all right,\u201d Toma reported. \u201cHim keep going. Him die somewhere.\u201d\nRelieved, Dick and Sandy approached the campfire. Toma already was\nheaping on more wood. As the flames leaped upward, and the light chased\naway some of the surrounding shadows, Dick and Sandy breathed freely\nonce more. However, sleep was far from them after the narrow escape from\nbeing clawed by the wounded bear. They ventured about to see what damage\nthe big grizzly had effected.\nThey found Dick\u2019s and Toma\u2019s blankets torn to shreds. The coffee pot was\ncrushed flat and the sugar sack broken open, its contents scattered.\nDick hurried to the bough where they had hung the flour and bacon. \u201cHey,\nlook here\u2014Sandy, Toma!\u201d\nThey joined Dick. The bough had been broken down; the flour was\nscattered about as if the sack had exploded; the bacon was gone.\nSearching about in the gloom they found hunks of chewed rind among the\npine needles. Only one small chunk of bacon was left, and this they\npreserved in one of their knapsacks.\n\u201cHim no hungry,\u201d Toma grunted, \u201chim play. Him chew bacon up, spit him\nout.\u201d\n\u201cWell, he did us plenty of damage all right,\u201d Dick said ruefully.\n\u201cLooks like we were in for a hungry spell,\u201d Sandy added, resignedly.\n\u201cHumph! We have bear steak for breakfast,\u201d Toma exclaimed significantly.\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I call justice,\u201d Dick laughed.\nAll three went back to the campfire then and squatted around the\ncrackling flames. The excitement had loosened Toma\u2019s tongue, it seemed,\nand he began telling stories of other bears he had known, and whom his\nfather had known. Dick and Sandy listened with rapt interest to the\nsimple tales of the young Indian.\nAlmost the balance of the night passed with Toma\u2019s droning voice\nrelating thrilling adventures among the tribes in the far north. Toward\ndawn Sandy turned in for an hour or so of rest, but Toma and Dick\nremained awake.\nThe sun had scarcely topped the distant forest skyline when Dick and\nToma awakened Sandy, and all three gathered up what they could of the\nwreckage remaining of their provisions.\n\u201cNow we gettum bear steak,\u201d Toma said.\nIn single file they followed the gliding figure of the guide, as he set\noff on the trail of the grizzly.\n\u201cSee that track!\u201d Dick exclaimed presently, pointing with his rifle at a\nspot of soft leaf-mold.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a bear track, all right,\u201d conceded Sandy, \u201c\u2014and look! There\u2019s\nblood on that bush.\u201d\n\u201cWe sure hit him a lot of times\u2014I mean you and Toma,\u201d Dick corrected. He\nfelt disappointed that he had not actually been in on the killing of the\nbear, since he had had no rifle. But the thrill of trailing a wounded\ngrizzly made him forget.\nToma seemed to follow the trail as if by instinct. Where Sandy and Dick\ncould see no sign whatever, Toma went unerringly forward, always with\nthat gliding, noiseless, pigeon-toed pace, that seemed tireless, though\nit was kept up with an ease and speed that made Dick and Sandy run.\nFor a half mile they wound among the trees, beginning to come upon spots\nwhere the bear had dropped down to rest. At these points the blood was\ndrying in large clots. Finally, approaching a fallen tree, they came\nupon the grizzly, stone dead!\nDick and Sandy were about to cheer, yet the actual sight of the bear\nmade them a little sad. The great monarch of the forest never again\nwould proudly tread the forest aisles. Yet the boys felt a certain\nsatisfaction in having won in a battle with such a powerful foe.\nToma immediately began skinning one haunch of the great bear. \u201cHim old\nand tough,\u201d grunted Toma, \u201cbut we cook um long time. That make um\ntender.\u201d\nDick laughed. \u201cThe old boy will make stringy eating.\u201d\n\u201cI wish we could take his hide,\u201d Sandy sighed.\n\u201cIt sure would knock the eyes out of the fellows back home,\u201d Dick said.\n\u201cNo time to skin,\u201d Toma interrupted. \u201cHide too heavy carry. Mister\nMackenzie say mus\u2019 travel light.\u201d\n\u201cYes, it\u2019s impossible for us to have the old fellow\u2019s hide, but that\u2019s\nno reason why we can\u2019t have his scalp.\u201d Suiting his action to his words,\nDick drew his sharp hunting knife and stooped over the head of the\nwilderness king. With Sandy\u2019s help they took the old grizzly\u2019s scalp,\nears and all, as a trophy.\n\u201cIt\u2019s yours and Toma\u2019s,\u201d Dick smiled, when they had finished. He held\nthe scalp out to Sandy.\nSandy\u2019s eyes lightened. \u201cLet Toma have the scalp. I\u2019ll take the claws.\u201d\nDick\u2019s hunting knife once more came into play. The bear\u2019s claws measured\nas long as five inches, and Sandy was exceedingly proud as he at last\npushed them into a side pocket of his leather coat.\nToma was waiting when they had finished. The guide had his knapsack\nfilled with the tenderest steaks he could cut.\nAt a jog trot they set out for the river and their campsite, and soon\nthey were grilling bear steaks over the fire.\nWhen they broke camp they had provisions for two scanty meals, including\nsome of the bear steaks which they saved from breakfast. The canoe\npacked, they once more set out down the river.\n\u201cWe make um grub cache tomorrow,\u201d Toma encouraged them. \u201cGet um plenty\ngrub there.\u201d\nLate that afternoon, without mishap they reached a point where Toma said\nthey must abandon their canoe and go on by land, since the river swung\noff in another direction. They carefully hid their canoe in some\nunderbrush along with two others left by a party that had recently gone\non ahead of them, and started out on foot.\nDick and Sandy were very tired long before Toma showed signs of slowing\nup, but they gamely stuck to the pace without complaint.\nThey were angling down the side of a long ravine, toward a spring, which\nToma muttered would be a good place to camp, when of a sudden, the guide\nstopped dead.\n\u201cHide quick!\u201d Toma whispered, with a significant gesture of one sinewy\nbrown hand.\nDick and Sandy crouched.\n\u201cThink um bad fellas ahead,\u201d Toma explained. \u201cYou stay here. I go ahead;\nlook um over.\u201d\nDick and Sandy were glad to sink down and rest their weary legs. But the\nwarning in Toma\u2019s voice did not escape them. They were keyed to sharp\nwatchfulness as Toma dropped to his hands and knees and disappeared\nsilently among the bushes.\nDick and Sandy had crouched in hiding for upwards of a half hour before\nToma returned. He came as he had gone, silently, like a ghost almost, so\nstealthy were his movements, so clever his woodcraft.\n\u201cWhat did you find?\u201d whispered Dick, anxiously.\n\u201cTwo, t\u2019ree\u2014five bad fellas,\u201d Toma counted on his fingers. \u201cOne Pierre\nGovereau lead um. They got um spring for tonight. We go round um. Got\nto. Them fellas friends Bear Henderson. They watch um trail for police.\n\u2019Fraid police go to Fort Good Faith.\u201d\nDick and Sandy exchanged glances. Their weariness was temporarily\nforgotten in this new peril. They began to understand the far-reaching\npower of the man who had captured Sandy\u2019s uncle and had taken possession\nof Fort Good Faith on the edge of the northern wilderness.\n\u201cWe go,\u201d Toma urged, his only excitement revealed by the swift movements\nof his eyes as they roved this way and that.\nSilently the Indian guide melted into the underbrush, Dick immediately\nbehind him, Sandy in the rear. For nearly two hundred yards they went\nonward, almost at snail\u2019s pace. It was twilight now. Long shadows of\ntree and bush stretched everywhere.\nAt last Toma signaled for them to stop. Dick and Sandy dropped flat. Not\nmore than three hundred feet ahead a campfire twinkled through the\ntrees, and, motionless, between them and the fire, stood a silent\nfigure, with rifle on his shoulder. It was a guard. Dick divined the\nfigure, so like the tree trunk against which it stood, had even escaped\nthe sharp eyes of Toma at first.\nFour men were sitting around the campfire, and they could hear the\nmutter of gruff voices. Once or twice a louder than usual exclamation in\nFrench arose above the other sounds. It seemed the leader of the party\nwas haranguing his men, or disciplining one of them.\nSuddenly Dick started and clutched Sandy\u2019s arm.\n\u201cThat guard!\u201d he exclaimed under his breath. \u201cIt\u2019s the scar faced\nIndian!\u201d\nSandy paled a little. It seemed almost impossible that the Indian could\nhave gotten ahead of them. His appearance was as mysterious as had been\ntheir glimpses of him at Fort du Lac and along the Big Smokey river.\nToma was motioning for them to bear to the right. They crawled off after\nthe guide in that direction.\nNeither Dick nor Sandy knew which of them made too much noise, or\nrevealed some part of his body, yet they had crawled no further than a\ndozen paces when the guard moved, turned and looked straight at them.\nToma, watching over his shoulder, fell flat, Dick and Sandy following\nhis example. Had they been seen?\nThe guard, his rifle ready for use, started slowly toward them. Tensely,\nDick and Sandy watched Toma for a sign as to what course to take. They\nsaw Toma slowly turn to his side. The guide swung his rifle to his\nshoulder as he lay.\nJust as the guard cried out, Toma fired.\nThe scar faced Indian whirled, dropped his rifle and fell to his knees,\nclutching at one shoulder. Dick and Sandy got a glimpse of the men at\nthe fire leaping up and snatching their rifles, as they took to their\nheels after Toma.\nFor several minutes they sprinted in the wake of the young Indian\u2019s\nflying heels, hearing behind the crash of their pursuers through the\nunderbrush, and their cries to one another.\nThen, before a hollow tree, half covered by the dead branches of a\nlightning-blasted pine tree, Toma halted suddenly. He motioned to them\nto follow and disappeared into the half-obscured hole in the tree. Dick\nand Sandy slipped in after him. There was barely enough room in the tree\nfor three to stand upright, but they managed to crowd in, while Toma\nquickly arranged the dead branches over the hole until their hiding\nplace was entirely covered from view.\nThe distant shouts grew louder, as the men beat the brush looking for\nthem. Two came closer and closer, until at last they stopped before the\nhollow tree, so near that the three hidden feared their heavy breathing\nmight be heard.\n\u201cI thought I saw \u2019em go this way,\u201d one said, in a harsh voice.\n\u201cMebbe so,\u201d the other, apparently an Indian, answered. \u201cIt look like\nthey jump in air an\u2019 fly away.\u201d\n\u201cPierre sure will give us the devil if we let \u2019em get away,\u201d said the\nfirst. \u201cCan\u2019t blame him. Henderson will skin him alive if these trails\naren\u2019t kept clean of Hudson\u2019s Bay men and mounties.\u201d\n\u201cI see bush move over d\u2019er!\u201d the Indian ejaculated.\nThe two men moved off in another direction, and the boys in the hollow\ntree breathed easier.\n\u201cNo go yet,\u201d Toma advised. \u201cWait till all quiet.\u201d\nThe minutes passed slowly while they waited in their cramped position.\nThe shouts of the searchers grew fainter as they apparently abandoned\nthe chase. Presently all was still. Toma peeped out through the branches\ncovering the entrance to the hollow tree. After looking carefully about,\nthe guide pushed back the branches and stepped out. Dick and Sandy\nfollowed. They were learning lessons in woodcraft every hour from this\nchild of the forest.\n\u201cI think we ought to go back to the camp, steal up close and see if we\ncan\u2019t learn something of your Uncle Walter, Sandy,\u201d Dick announced.\n\u201cIs it worth the risk?\u201d Sandy came back. \u201cCan\u2019t we do better by hurrying\non to Fort Dunwoody?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s true we can\u2019t do much without the aid of the mounted police,\u201d Dick\nstudied. \u201cYet I\u2019d like to know, if it\u2019s possible, just what has been\ndone with your uncle\u2014how they\u2019re treating him.\u201d\nDick asked Toma what he thought of trying to learn something by\neavesdropping. \u201cIf you think um best thing do,\u201d Toma replied. \u201cThat scar\nface got best ears of all. He wounded now. Not much good; what say I\ntry?\u201d\n\u201cNo, you\u2019ve done plenty of this already, Toma,\u201d Dick was firm. \u201cI\u2019ll go\nthis time. You wait here where you can cover me with your guns if I am\ndetected.\u201d\nToma, assured Dick was determined to go, grunted his assent, and a\nmoment later Dick disappeared into the bushes on his perilous venture.\nSandy and Toma crawled back to within gunshot of the camp, where the men\nhad gathered again, gesticulating to one another, plainly undecided what\nto do.\nWhen Dick left his chum and the guide he realized the danger he faced.\nYet he knew any information he might gain would be more than valuable to\nthe police when once he got in touch with them. Govereau\u2019s men were\ntalking so loudly that he had little trouble in overhearing them. The\nleader\u2019s heavy voice broke out in French, which disappointed Dick, for\nhe knew very little French. Then Govereau changed to broken English,\nevidently for the benefit of a member of his band who did not understand\nFrench.\n\u201cWe go on queeck, ketch them,\u201d Govereau was saying. \u201cSure t\u2019ing them\nfella are zee ver\u2019 ones come from Fort du Lac. That devil Many-Scar an\u2019\nthem others\u2014they let zem get through Little Moose, I bat. We go.\u201d\nThe four began breaking camp hurriedly. The scar faced Indian was\nreclining with one arm in a crude sling. He arose with the others and\nrolled up his blanket with one hand, as if nothing were wrong with him.\nDick was disappointed in not hearing anything regarding the situation at\nFort Good Faith. But, as he could think of nothing to do about it, he\nedged about and crept back to Sandy and Toma.\n\u201cThey\u2019re breaking camp,\u201d he told his companions. \u201cThey think we\u2019ve gone\non ahead. Suppose we fool them and camp right here after they leave.\u201d\nToma\u2019s face lighted up and Sandy was jubilant at the chance to rest his\nweary legs. A few minutes later, hidden in the bushes, they watched\nGovereau and his four men string out on the trail and quietly disappear\ninto the forest. They got a close look at the leader of the band as he\npassed, and Dick and Sandy could not suppress a shiver of dread. The man\nhad an exceedingly evil and cruel face.\nDick hid his disappointment in learning nothing of Henderson\u2019s movements\nand of Sandy\u2019s uncle in his elation at this opportunity to camp where\nToma had planned. They would be fresh for a long hike next day, which\nwould take them to the hidden cache of provisions.\nToma said little while they prepared their scanty meal, which was for\nthe most part, bear steak. Every now and then the guide looked up at the\nsky and sniffed the air.\n\u201cStorm pretty soon. Winter come. Heap big blizzard few days,\u201d he finally\nconfided to Dick and Sandy.\n\u201cThat means we\u2019ve got to make a raise of a dog team,\u201d Dick said, tearing\noff a huge hunk of cold bear meat.\n\u201cGood thing Mr. MacLean gave you that money,\u201d Sandy observed.\nDick agreed with his chum, stifling a yawn. Already his eyes were\nclosing. Toma consented to take the first watch, and in a few moments\nDick and Sandy were sound asleep in their blankets.\nThe night passed without incident, Dick and Sandy taking their turns on\nwatch. At dawn they were on the trail again, leaving camp hungry. They\nhesitated to shoot at any small game for fear Govereau\u2019s men might be\nnear. Toward noon, however, Dick\u2019s gnawing stomach got the better of his\ncaution, and he knocked over a partridge. They made a short stop,\nbroiled the partridge and divided it.\nAppetites a little appeased, they were off again, hoping to make the\ncache of provisions on Limping Dog Creek by nightfall. Late in the\nafternoon they trudged down into the canyon designated by MacLean on the\nmap.\nIt was twilight when the canyon walls widened and grew less precipitous.\nToma said they were nearing Limping Dog Creek. Sandy was hobbling from a\nslight sprain received when he tripped over a root, and Dick was far\nfrom fresh.\n\u201cFlapjacks will sure taste good,\u201d Dick murmured.\n\u201cAmen,\u201d Sandy groaned in answer.\nWhen at last they came in sight of the creek, Toma stopped to compare\nlandmarks with the map.\n\u201cThere um three trees,\u201d Toma pointed to some huge balmagiliad trees that\nstood out from the smaller jack pines like giants.\nThey hurried forward. Martin MacLean had said the cache was in the third\nof the three big trees nearest the creek. They speedily reached the tree\nand Toma climbed it. He was gone for some time, Dick and Sandy straining\ntheir eyes upward through the dark foliage.\nToma came down much slower than he had gone up. As he dropped to the\nturf, Dick and Sandy awaited anxiously his report.\n\u201cHim gone,\u201d said Toma briefly. \u201cCache not there!\u201d\nDick\u2019s eyes narrowed, and Sandy\u2019s countenance grew glum indeed.\n\u201cMaybe this isn\u2019t the tree,\u201d Dick ventured.\n\u201cHim right tree,\u201d Toma was certain.\n\u201cIt must have been Govereau\u2019s men,\u201d Dick spoke, after a short silence.\n\u201cMebbe so,\u201d Toma grunted.\nThe loss of the cache, more than anything else, had cast its shadow of\ngloom over the spirits of Dick and Sandy. Toma, however, who had made\nthe discovery, seemed not so deeply concerned.\n\u201cWe catch um meat,\u201d Toma attempted to cheer the boys. \u201cMebbe bye an\u2019 bye\nwe eat.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not so sure about that,\u201d declared Sandy, thinking of the lonely\nstrip of bacon and the one handful of flour, which were all that\nremained of the provisions the grizzly had destroyed. \u201cTo tell you the\ntruth, I haven\u2019t seen very much game lately. Have you, Dick?\u201d\nDick shook his head, forced to acknowledge the truth of Sandy\u2019s\nstatement.\n\u201cWhen a fellow\u2019s hungry,\u201d Sandy complained, rubbing his lame ankle,\n\u201che\u2019s hungry, that\u2019s all, and a mouthful of bacon is about as much good\nto him as a drop of fresh water in the ocean.\u201d\n\u201cMe no eat one time for whole week.\u201d Toma reminded them.\nBoth boys looked up in astonishment.\n\u201cA whole week!\u201d gasped Dick, \u201cgreat guns! I hope we don\u2019t come to that.\u201d\n\u201cMebbe set snare for rabbit tonight,\u201d encouraged Toma. \u201cToma good ketch\num rabbit.\u201d\n\u201cI could eat two or three rabbits,\u201d Sandy grumbled, taking up the slack\nin his belt.\nAs they made their way onward, Dick seriously considered their plight.\nThoughts of the ruthless, cold-hearted rifling of the cache by Bear\nHenderson\u2019s men filled him with an anger that was difficult to suppress.\nBut anger or resentment could not help them now. The thing to do was to\nabandon any attempt at further progress that day and put in a few good\nhours hunting while it was yet daylight.\n\u201cBoys,\u201d he decided, \u201cwe\u2019d better pitch camp here for a while, until we\ncan bag some game. My suggestion is that each of us start off in a\ndifferent direction. We must keep track of the time and be sure to get\nback to camp by dark. The chances are that at least one of us will be\nsuccessful.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s hunt or starve,\u201d agreed Sandy. \u201cWhich way do you want me to go?\u201d\n\u201cToma had better try his luck here in the creek valley,\u201d said Dick,\n\u201cbecause game is apt to be more plentiful here and he\u2019s the best hunter.\nYou and I can make our way into the hills, keeping about half a mile\napart. Shoot anything at all that has meat on its bones,\u201d and he winked\nslyly at Toma.\n\u201cI could eat a skunk and like it,\u201d groaned Sandy. \u201cBy the way, before we\nstart don\u2019t you think we\u2019d better divide that bacon?\u201d\nWith a queer, inexplicable feeling, Dick produced the last morsels of\nfood from their packs and divided them carefully. If he gave Sandy a\nlittle more than an equal portion, no one, with the possible exception\nof a tiny sparrow perched on a branch overhead, could have noticed it.\nThey ate in silence, and in silence they arose immediately after their\ninadequate meal and started off for the hunt.\n\u201cI don\u2019t think I\u2019ll ever see anything,\u201d Dick muttered to himself, \u201cor if\nI do the chances are that the pesky thing will get away. Hang it all,\nwhy did Govereau, or whoever it was, have to find that cache?\u201d\nDick\u2019s mood brightened a few minutes later as he came up through the\nautumn sunshine to the foot of a slope, thickly covered with stunted\npine. It looked like a very good hiding place for ptarmigan, or possibly\neven deer. He unslung his rifle and went forward as cautiously as he\ncould, one finger hovering close to the trigger of his gun.\nBut, after an hour\u2019s slow progress, Dick had begun to lose hope. He had\nseen nothing. Apparently the forest was as devoid of all animal life as\na city street. Except for a hawk, circling lazily about high overhead,\nthere was neither bird nor beast anywhere in that lonely stretch of\nwilderness.\nMopping his perspiring brow, the young hunter finally sat down for a\nmoment\u2019s rest, before continuing his course to the top of a high ridge.\nThen an abrupt, totally unexpected crackling in the heavy Saskatoon\nthicket ahead caused him to start\u2014almost in wonderment. His breath came\nquickly. He half rose, then fearing, that even his slightest sound might\nspoil everything, he sank down again, his left hand nursing the cold,\nblue barrel of his Ross rifle.\nMore crackling, a sudden parting of the bushes, and Dick\u2019s heart almost\nstood still. A large bull moose, majestic in his stature, crashed into\nview.\nBy this time Dick was fairly trembling with excitement. Twice he\nendeavored to raise his rifle to his shoulder. His arm shook so much\nthat he knew it would be worse than useless to attempt a shot while his\nnerves were in such a condition.\n\u201cI can\u2019t do it,\u201d thought Dick, then across his mind flashed the mental\npicture of a cache, broken into and robbed, and the sneering face of\nPierre Govereau mocking him. Then his rifle went to his shoulder, and\ntwo loud reports rang out in quick succession. The moose stumbled, but\ndid not fall. Dick heard quite plainly its sudden snort of alarm and the\ncrash of underbrush as it struck off at terrific speed directly down the\nslope in the direction from which he had but recently come.\nThe moose was wounded, he knew, but he also was well aware from previous\nexperience that a wounded moose will often travel for miles before it\nfalls. Galvanized into action, Dick was off, following the blood-stained\ntrail, hoping against hope that either Sandy or Toma might intercept the\nanimal before it had become lost in the intricate tangle of brush and\nwoodland that lay to the south.\nSliding down a particularly treacherous part of the trail, Dick\u2019s foot\ncaught in an exposed root and he fell heavily. As he bounded to his feet\nagain, he thought he heard a distant shout\u2014but he was not entirely sure.\nFor twenty minutes more, he pushed forward rapidly, sometimes almost\nlosing the trail of the moose. Then finally he did lose it altogether.\nSearch as he would, the telltale tracks had disappeared as magically and\nas unaccountably as if the animal had leaped into the air and flown away\nto a place of safety.\n\u201cIt\u2019s the most unusual thing I ever heard of,\u201d Dick commented aloud,\nracing about in a vain effort to discover some sign that would point out\nagain the trail that had so suddenly vanished.\nIn despair his eyes fell upon a level formation of rock not more than\nthirty feet away. Could it be that the moose had passed that\nway\u2014scrambled over the level rock floor in its mad race with death? If\nso, it would explain the mysterious disappearance of the tracks; but\nthere must be blood-stains somewhere.\n\u201cWhoop-ee!\u201d he shouted as his quick eyes made out the signs he\nsought\u2014small splotches of red scattered across the smooth surface of\nsandstone. And shortly thereafter, he hurried on again, like a young\nbloodhound finding fresh scent along the path ahead.\n\u201cI\u2019ll be more careful next time,\u201d he assured himself. \u201cIt would be a\npity if this moose got away. I\u2019d have been ashamed to show my face in\ncamp.\u201d\nTwo miles further on he almost forgot about the moose. Through a screen\nof willows, skirting a small creek, he caught the faint movement of some\nliving thing\u2014something that stood concealed and which watched him\nfurtively as he made his way along through the dead and matted grass of\nthe little valley.\nDick felt instinctively that some danger threatened. What this was he\nhad no way of finding out, yet the feeling persisted that he was being\nwatched, spied upon by an enemy more terrible than any wild denizen of\nthe forest. As he advanced swiftly on his way, he was conscious of a\nstrange tingling of nerves, as if he half expected at any moment to be\npounced upon and overcome by an unknown assailant.\n\u201cI\u2019ve never felt so queer about anything in my life,\u201d he confided to the\nsilent trees, as he hurried quickly along. \u201cI\u2019m sure that I saw\nsomething move there in the bushes, and I\u2019m positive that it wasn\u2019t an\nanimal that walks on four legs.\u201d\nJust then, an object lying on the ground, immediately ahead, drove every\nother thought from his mind. With a glad cry he sprang forward, and, a\nshort time later, stood looking down at the prostrate body of the bull\nmoose, majestic even in death.\nA lump arose in Dick\u2019s throat as he stood there silently regarding it.\n\u201cPoor old fellow,\u201d he breathed, \u201cit was a shame to do this. But perhaps\nyou saved us from starving. Maybe\u2014\u2014\u201d\nA shout close at hand roused Dick from his musings. Wheeling about his\neyes lighted with pride and happiness, as he espied the approaching\nfigures of Sandy and Toma.\n\u201cGood for you!\u201d Sandy exclaimed, as he strode up to where his chum was\nstanding. \u201cI just knew you\u2019d do it. Say, I believe it\u2019s the biggest\nmoose I ever saw.\u201d\n\u201cYou ketch um big fella,\u201d complimented Toma. \u201cIt is good.\u201d\nTogether the three young adventurers stood admiring the moose. So\ninterested had they become that not one of them caught the sound of\nstealthy footsteps until a heavy, threatening form, followed by three\nothers, pushed its way within the circle of admiring eyes.\nWith a cry of warning, Dick sprang back, clutching his rifle tightly.\nThen he looked at the man.\nIt was Pierre Govereau!\nGovereau advanced menacingly. Backed by the rifles of the three\nvillainous looking men with him, the three boys could do nothing.\n\u201cWhat you do wiz my moose?\u201d Govereau snarled.\n\u201cDo you mean to say you shot that moose!\u201d Dick exclaimed angrily.\n\u201cIt iss so,\u201d Govereau avowed brazenly.\n\u201cYou lie!\u201d Dick exclaimed hotly. \u201cI shot that moose. I can prove it.\nWhat do you mean by holding us up this way. We have done you no harm.\u201d\n\u201cIt iss Henderson bizness\u2014zat.\u201d Govereau turned and signaled his men to\nbind the three young men.\n\u201cYou\u2019ll sweat for this,\u201d Dick gritted.\n\u201cNot so much as you,\u201d Govereau taunted. \u201cYoung fellas like you should\nstay home wiz zee mamma.\u201d\nDick gritted his teeth again, but resolved to keep his mouth shut. He\nmust save his breath to get Sandy and Toma out of the mess. It must have\nbeen Govereau\u2019s men watching him when he had felt so queer on the trail\nof the wounded moose.\nDick did not resist the moose-hide thongs as they were bound mercilessly\ntight about his wrists. Sandy and Toma followed his example. There were\nother ways of getting the better of Govereau, and it might be easier if\nthey submitted, or seemed to submit, mildly to capture.\nThey could see one of the men slicing steaks from the moose haunch\nbefore, at a guttural command, they were started off into the woods,\nnorthward along Limping Dog Creek.\nAn hour\u2019s tramping brought them to Govereau\u2019s camp, four miles up the\ncreek. The scar faced Indian was there to greet them. He leered at the\ncaptives hatefully. Dick felt that the Indian knew one of them had shot\nhim at the camp forty miles away, and that the savage would do anything\nin his power to wreak vengeance.\nGovereau had made his headquarters in an old cabin, deserted by some\ntrapper. There were two rooms, and the three young captives were shoved\ninto the smaller of them, their hands still bound behind them. Probably\ntheir captors realized they would soon untie themselves, but since with\nthe huge oaken bolt shot on the door, there was no way of getting out of\nthe room, they did not bother themselves about it.\n\u201cWell?\u201d Dick turned to Toma and Sandy, when at last they were left\nalone.\nToma\u2019s face was as stolid as ever. Sandy had nothing to say. He sat down\non the bunk at one side of the room.\n\u201cI guess we\u2019re in a pickle, all right,\u201d Sandy said at last.\nDick paced back and forth twice, then stopped before the door, which he\ncarefully inspected. The door seemed heavy enough to repel the attack of\na battering ram, say nothing of three boys. Dick turned back to Sandy\nand Toma. \u201cGovereau will question us now, I suppose,\u201d Dick spoke\nrapidly. \u201cAnd he\u2019ll probably take us out separately to see if our\nstories are the same. He\u2019ll want to know just how much we know of\nHenderson\u2019s movements and what we are trying to do against him.\u201d\n\u201cWhat shall we say?\u201d Sandy scratched his head. Toma said nothing. The\nyoung Indian seemed to feel that the situation was beyond his ability to\nhandle.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll tell Govereau that we have been visiting the factor at Fort du\nLac\u2014spending our vacation there, and that we were on our way south\u2014to\nreturn home. How\u2019s that?\u201d\n\u201cThat sounds all right,\u201d Sandy responded, a little dubiously.\n\u201cNo go so far east if go south from Fort du Lac,\u201d Toma\u2019s dark eyes\nblinked rapidly.\nDick thought a minute. \u201cThen suppose we have some one at Fort Dunwoody\nthat we want to see before we leave for home\u2014a cousin.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s the trick,\u201d Sandy agreed enthusiastically.\n\u201cThen we all understand what we\u2019re to tell,\u201d Dick resumed. \u201cToma, how\nabout it?\u201d\n\u201cI tell um,\u201d was the taciturn reply.\n\u201cIf Govereau believes our story he may let us go,\u201d Dick concluded. \u201cIf\nhe learns the truth he may do something worse than just hold us behind a\nlocked door.\u201d\nAll three were silent for a time while Dick paced back and forth. Upon\nhis shoulders he realized was now the bulk of responsibility. Toma might\nexcel him on the trail, where native woodcraft and instinctive stealth\nwas the chief requirement, but in the present situation Toma was at best\nonly a willing servant. And it was Sandy\u2019s nature to depend upon his\nchum, himself only offering what suggestions occurred to his lower mind.\n\u201cI\u2019ve a plan to escape, if this first scheme fails!\u201d Dick suddenly\nstopped his pacing and looked about him.\nSandy jumped as if shot, so sudden was Dick\u2019s exclamation. \u201cLet\u2019s hear\nit,\u201d the young Scotch lad cried eagerly. Toma brightened.\nDick turned to Toma. \u201cSandy or I would be glad to do this,\u201d he addressed\nthe young guide, \u201cbut it\u2019s just about impossible for us. Can I depend on\nyour support, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cI do my best; what you say I do?\u201d Toma promised sincerely.\n\u201cMy plan is this: when Govereau questions you, Toma, you are to express\na desire to join him\u2014to turn against us. See? With you on the outside\nthere\u2019s much more chance of escaping than with all three of us in here.\nCan you do it, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cI try.\u201d\n\u201cThen I\u2019ll leave everything to you once you get outside. Of course,\nGovereau may get wise to what you are up to. But, again, he\u2019s no doubt\npretty anxious to get more men in his band.\u201d\nAs Dick concluded his instructions, there came a noise at the door, and\nthe bolt was shot back. A sharp, rat-like face, that of a half-breed,\nwas pushed in. \u201cYou come,\u201d said the man, indicating Dick.\nDick and Sandy both realized that a crisis was at hand. If they revealed\ntheir real mission to Govereau they would without doubt never reach the\nmounted police. Perhaps they would not reach them anyway, yet there was\na good chance that Govereau might let them go if they convinced him of\ntheir ignorance of any of Henderson\u2019s business.\n\u201cGood luck, Dick,\u201d Sandy\u2019s voice was a little husky.\n\u201cNever mind, old boy, I\u2019ll make out,\u201d Dick cheered him.\nToma was visibly affected, and Dick reassured him also. Short as the\ntime had been that Toma had been with them, there seemed already a\nstrong bond of friendship between the young Indian and the two young\nadventurers.\nDick squared his shoulders and followed the rat-faced half-breed into\nthe other room. Dick now faced Pierre Govereau. The Frenchman was seated\nat a board table across from the door which just had been closed after\nDick. At one side of the room a huge fireplace roared and crackled. The\nrat-faced half-breed went over and squatted before the fire, picking up\na red-hot iron in a pair of tongs. Dick Kent shivered as he saw what the\nman was doing. But he met Govereau\u2019s eyes unflinchingly.\n\u201cWhat iss zee bizness you bean on when you make for zee Fort Dunwoody?\u201d\nGovereau came straight to the point.\n\u201cMy friend and I are visiting in Canada,\u201d replied Dick cooly. \u201cThe\nfactor at Fort du Lac was an old friend of my chum\u2019s father. I have a\ncousin in Fort Dunwoody that we wanted to call on before we went home.\u201d\n\u201cI zink you lie,\u201d growled Govereau. He sat silent for a moment, glaring\nat Dick as if he would hypnotize the young man with his snake-like eyes.\nBut Dick\u2019s gaze did not falter.\n\u201cWhy you fear my men?\u201d Govereau\u2019s voice cracked like a whip.\nDick hesitated a moment. Sandy\u2019s uncle\u2019s welfare might depend upon his\nmisleading the villainous Govereau. \u201cWe had been told there were bandits\nalong the trail to the fort,\u201d Dick replied in a clear voice.\n\u201cHaw!\u201d scoffed Henderson\u2019s lieutenant, and wheeled to the half-breed at\nthe fireplace. \u201cNapio, zee iron now. We make zee young upstart talk\nright.\u201d\nDick recoiled slightly as the Indian arose and came forward with a short\npiece of iron, red hot and smoking in the tongs. Govereau came out from\nbehind the table. Dick\u2019s hands were still tied behind him. The Frenchman\nseized Dick in an iron grasp and tore away his shirt front.\n\u201cYou tell zee truth now,\u201d Govereau hissed. \u201cQueeck, Napio!\u201d\nThe iron was pushed close to Dick\u2019s naked breast. He could feel the heat\nof it already searing his skin.\nThen the door opened and the half-breed hesitated. Govereau turned,\nsnarling at the interruption. An Indian stood in the door.\n\u201cMen all go way,\u201d said the intruder. \u201cThey drink firewater. M\u2019sieu\nGovereau, you come bring them back.\u201d\n\u201cThrow him back in. We finish wiz him tonight,\u201d Govereau ordered the\nhalf-breed. \u201cBring zee young white one. I come soon,\u201d he waved away the\nIndian at the door.\nDick reeled into Sandy\u2019s arms a minute later as he was roughly pushed\ninto the back room. \u201cHe\u2019ll call you next, Sandy,\u201d Dick gasped a little\nweakly. \u201cIf he asks you why you feared his men, say you thought they\nwere bandits.\u201d\nSandy pressed Dick\u2019s arm to signify he understood and followed the\nrat-faced half-breed out into the front room. Dick and Toma waited only\na few minutes before the door opened and Sandy was pushed in once more.\nGovereau had not attempted to torture Sandy. He seemed in a hurry to go\nafter his men. They could hear him cursing through even those thick, log\nwalls, for Sandy\u2019s story had tallied with Dick\u2019s.\nIt was Toma\u2019s turn next, and Dick talked earnestly with the guide as to\nthe method he was to use in convincing Govereau of his desires to be a\ntraitor to his white friends. Dick was now certain that Govereau would\nnot believe their story. Toma was their last chance.\nThey waited for some time before Toma was called. Then the half-breed\ncame again, and beckoned to the guide. In high suspense Dick and Sandy\nwatched him disappear through the door.\nIn a half hour they took courage. Toma had not come back. They waited an\nhour and still Toma was not thrown back among them. Their spirits rose.\nToma had then convinced Govereau of his sincerity.\nIt was growing dark now, and at any moment Dick expected Govereau to\ncall for him again. The Frenchman seemed to have a personal enmity for\nDick, perhaps because of the young man\u2019s refusal to be cowed by\nbrowbeating.\n\u201cWhat if Toma really does turn traitor?\u201d Sandy broke a long silence. \u201cI\nheard Uncle Walter say these Indians couldn\u2019t be trusted too far.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know why, but I trust Toma absolutely,\u201d Dick replied\nconfidently, \u201cthat Indian is smarter than we think. If Govereau really\nis convinced that Toma is going in with him we\u2019ll soon be out of here.\nWhen I think what your uncle may be going through up there, I can\u2019t sit\nstill.\u201d\n\u201cWell, he couldn\u2019t get much worse than we have already,\u201d Sandy returned\ngrimly. \u201cGee, I never thought we\u2019d come to this when we left Fort du\nLac.\u201d\n\u201cI could stand it better if I wasn\u2019t so hungry and thirsty,\u201d Dick\ndeclared.\n\u201cYou said it,\u201d Sandy heartily sanctioned. \u201cI guess they\u2019re going to\nstarve us too.\u201d\n\u201cDo you notice it\u2019s growing colder?\u201d Dick asked presently.\n\u201cI thought maybe it was because we didn\u2019t have any fire.\u201d\n\u201cI remember Toma said we were due for a blizzard,\u201d Dick recalled.\n\u201cFunny why Govereau doesn\u2019t call one of us out again,\u201d Sandy mused.\n\u201cHe\u2019s after his men I expect. An Indian reported they were drinking\nwhile I was being questioned. The fellow saved me from being tortured.\u201d\nEngaging in a wandering conversation, Dick and Sandy whiled away two\nmore long hours, in which they managed to untie each other\u2019s wrists, and\nkept warm by walking back and forth and swinging their arms. They were\nalmost certain now that Govereau had gone. If so, then if Toma hadn\u2019t\nbeen forced to go with the Frenchman, he would be more able to help\nthem.\nIt was along toward morning when Dick started up out of a doze to hear\nthe sound of a blow and the muffled fall of a body in the front room.\nThere was a sharp stifled cry. Then Dick shook Sandy to wakefulness.\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d whispered Sandy, leaping to his feet.\n\u201cS-s-sh,\u201d Dick cautioned.\nThrough the darkness in the room they could hear the heavy wooden bolt\non the door of their prison sliding backward.\nWith bated breath Dick and Sandy awaited some sign of the identity of\nthe person who was entering so stealthily. Was it the scar faced Indian\ncoming for vengeance, or was it\u2014the warmth from the other room was\nrushing in. It was Toma\u2019s voice that came to them.\n\u201cQuick! Come! Govereau gone long way.\u201d\nHearts leaping with joy, Dick and Sandy joined the young guide in the\ndarkness. He led them out into the larger room, picking his way with a\ncertainty that revealed he could see in the dark.\n\u201cWatch for one fella on floor. I hit him on head with rifle,\u201d Toma\nwhispered. \u201cGovereau\u2019s men all go to post ten miles south where they\ndrink fire-water. Govereau heap mad. Him after them. They come back\nanytime. He take me long with um. I run away. He know what I do now. You\nbet he know.\u201d\nToma swung open the cabin door, and Dick and Sandy followed him out. It\nwas so cold their teeth commenced chattering almost immediately. They\nbuttoned up their jackets and hurried off into the night.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll make Fort Dunwoody yet,\u201d Dick shivered, almost gladly.\n\u201cI\u2019ll say we will,\u201d Sandy came back.\nThen they fell silent as they took Toma\u2019s tireless, jogging pace,\nbeneath a cloudy sky. Again the Indian\u2019s trail wisdom came in like a\nGod-send. Dick and Sandy did not know where they were going, but they\nhad a feeling that Toma certainly did.\nHow long they ran they did not know when they began to feel damp spots\non their cheeks and hands.\n\u201cIt\u2019s snowing,\u201d Dick panted over his shoulder.\n\u201cI know it,\u201d wheezed Sandy.\n\u201cOught to cover our trail,\u201d Dick came back.\n\u201cI guess so, but I can\u2019t talk. I\u2019ve got to save my wind. You must be\nmade of iron.\u201d\nDick said no more, and presently Toma slowed down. It was snowing\nheavily now, and with the going getting harder underfoot, Dick and Sandy\nwere grateful for the slackening of the pace. Yet they sensed something\nunusual ahead had been the cause of it, and were not perfectly at ease\nby any means.\nFinally Toma came to a dead stop at the edge of a clearing. Peering\nahead through the gloom and the falling snow, they could see the lights\nof a cabin twinkling.\n\u201cYou stay here; I go on,\u201d Toma instructed in a low voice. \u201cMy brother\nlive here. Him give us warm clothes. I see if all right first. Wait for\nme.\u201d\nDick and Sandy hovered in the undergrowth and watched Toma\u2019s figure melt\naway into the gloom in the direction of the cabin.\n\u201cI hope he gets some clothes for us,\u201d Sandy chattered.\n\u201cAnd I\u2019m glad Govereau didn\u2019t take my wallet,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWe can pay\nfor what we get now.\u201d\n\u201cThe Frenchman didn\u2019t think we had any money, I suppose,\u201d Sandy opined.\nThey fell silent then, for against the lighted window they could see a\nhead silhouetted through the falling snow. Toma was peering in at the\nwindow. For an instant the guide\u2019s head was outlined there, then it\ndisappeared. Presently a shaft of light shot out over the snow as the\ndoor opened and closed. A moment later the door opened again, though the\nboys could not see who entered.\nDick and Sandy expected Toma to come back for them almost immediately,\nor at least signal that all was right. But the minutes passed and the\nguide did not return nor make a sign. The boys began to worry.\n\u201cWhat do you suppose is keeping him?\u201d Dick wondered.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Sandy replied, \u201cbut I do know I can\u2019t stand still in\nthis cold much longer.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll circle around the cabin and come in closer,\u201d Dick directed. \u201cIf\nsomething has happened we want to be sure we don\u2019t get into trouble,\ntoo. Toma\u2019s brother may have been killed by Henderson\u2019s men. The country\nseems to be alive with the villains.\u201d\nSilently they started around the cabin. Half way around, Dick stumbled\nand fell over something in the snow. Sandy stopped dead and a gasp of\nhorror came from his lips.\n\u201cDick!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cYou\u2019ve fallen over a dead man!\u201d\nDick got up, more shaken by the identity of the thing he had fallen over\nthan by the fall.\nCovered by the light film of snow that had fallen, and which was\nsteadily growing heavier, was the body of a man. In the gloom they could\nnot distinguish his features, but they were put on their guard. Armed\nonly with their hunting knives, they felt that the utmost caution must\nbe exercised in further advances.\n\u201cToma\u2019s in trouble. I know it now!\u201d Dick ejaculated.\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s up to us to get him out,\u201d Sandy retorted.\nDrawing their knives they started stealthily for the cabin. They could\nhear no sound of life, and the knowledge of what was lying behind them\nunder the snow made the atmosphere doubly fearsome.\nAt last they reached the single window through which they had seen Toma\nlook into the cabin. Dick cautiously raised his eyes over the sill. He\nlooked only an instant, then he quickly ducked downward.\n\u201cIt\u2019s the scar faced Indian!\u201d he made the astounding disclosure to\nSandy. \u201cAnd there\u2019s another with him. They have Toma bound. He\u2019s lying\non the bunk. I could see his eyes. They\u2019re playing cards and talking.\nHow in the world did they ever catch Toma?\u201d\n\u201cThat Indian again,\u201d muttered Sandy. \u201cHow the deuce did he get here\nanyway. We saw him last at Govereau\u2019s camp. It\u2019s ghostly the way that\nfellow shows up everywhere.\u201d\n\u201cGovereau must have sent him here on some dirty business,\u201d Dick decided.\n\u201cPerhaps Toma\u2019s brother had valuable furs stored here.\u201d\nWith mutual consent they crawled away from the cabin and hid in the\ntrees at the edge of the clearing, where they tried to decide on a plan\nby which to rescue Toma. That they had a good chance of success they\nwere sure. The scar-faced Indian had the use of but one arm since the\nwound Toma had given him, so they had but one real man to deal with.\nStill they were as well as unarmed. What could they do?\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you what,\u201d Dick was speaking fast. \u201cYou go out into the woods\nand begin calling for help, anything to get one of them out of the\ncabin. Then I\u2019ll slip in and see if I can\u2019t take care of the other one\nand get hold of a rifle. The Indian will probably stay inside, and\nwounded as he is I\u2019m sure I can handle him.\u201d\n\u201cGee! That\u2019s a ghostly job you have for me to do,\u201d Sandy whispered\nruefully.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to do it, Sandy,\u201d urged Dick. \u201cIt won\u2019t hurt to try. You keep\nhidden, and when one of them comes out to see what\u2019s wrong, keep quiet.\nI\u2019ll do the rest.\u201d\nDick and Sandy gripped hands, then parted. Dick crept around to a point\nopposite the door of the cabin, waiting tensely until Sandy began his\npart of the ruse. He did not have to wait long. Presently, from afar in\nthe forest, a shriek as of some one in mortal agony, arose. Sandy was\ndoing well.\n\u201cH-e-l-p, oh, h-e-l-p,\u201d his voice rang out, high and shrill.\nSandy repeated his call several times, then the cabin door opened, and\nas Dick had hoped, the scar faced Indian\u2019s companion came out. He had a\nrifle in his hands.\nAgain Sandy\u2019s cry rang out from a little further off. The man hesitated\nno longer, but stepped from the cabin door and walked across the\nclearing into the trees to investigate. He disappeared in the direction\nof Sandy\u2019s unearthly wailing.\nDick ran forward across the clearing, his moccasins making no noise in\nthe snow. He remembered that the scar faced Indian had been sitting at\nthe table facing the window. Therefore, if he had not changed his\nposition, his back would be to the door.\nPausing before the door, Dick found it open a crack. Cautiously he\npushed it open a little more and peered in. The Indian still was sitting\nwith his back to the door. He was idly shuffling the cards. Against the\nbunk where Toma lay bound, Dick could see a rifle leaning. One leap\nacross the floor and he would have this rifle. It was a desperate\nchance, but he must make the best of it.\nSwift as a panther, Dick threw open the door and leaped in. The\nastonished Indian was scarcely half out of his chair when Dick had the\nrifle in his hands.\n\u201cHands up!\u201d he cried.\nWhether the Indian understood English or not, Dick did not know, but his\nwords had the required effect. Slowly the scar-faced Indian turned his\nugly face upon his captor, his mouth twisted into an evil, smirking\ngrin. Dick stepped forward and drew the revolver from his captive\u2019s belt\nand tossed it into a corner. Then he backed toward the bunk with the\nrifle still trained on the Indian. Quickly, he drew his knife and\nslashed Toma\u2019s bonds.\n\u201cHa! Now we got um!\u201d Toma tore the gag from his mouth, leaned up and\npicked up the revolver Dick had thrown away. In a trice, then, Toma had\nlashed the scar-faced Indian to his chair.\nDick already was expecting the return of the Indian\u2019s companion. With\nthe Indian secured, both Toma and he turned their attention to the door.\nWith bated breath they waited and listened for approaching footfalls.\nToma and Dick no longer could hear Sandy hallooing, and Dick judged that\nhis chum was safely in hiding. Yet, as they waited, guns trained on the\ndoor, a rifle shot shattered the silence. It came from the direction\ntaken by the man who had gone to investigate the calls for help. Dick\u2019s\nface paled. What did it mean? Had poor Sandy fallen? Had the man found\nhim?\n\u201cI\u2019m going out,\u201d Dick said tensely to Toma a moment later.\nWhatever Toma\u2019s reply was Dick did not hear it, for with an impatient\nleap he flung open the door and disappeared. Toma remained behind, not\nsure that his young white friend\u2019s move had been wise, yet believing he\ncould do more to help if he stayed in the cabin.\nWhen Dick left the cabin he made straight for the point from which he\nthought the rifle shot had come. It was growing lighter. In the east a\nfaint gray fan of light showed over the forest\u2014dawn. He ran on for a\nlittle way, then he came upon tracks. Pursuing these at a run, he came\nin sight of the man who had left the cabin an hour before. The meeting\nwas a surprise for both.\nDick dodged behind a tree as the other fired from his hip. The ball\nwhizzed harmlessly over Dick\u2019s head, and he shot hastily. His shot also\nwent wild, but the other took to his heels. Dick did not pursue him, but\nbegan calling for Sandy. Presently he was rewarded by a distant shout\nand in a few minutes the chums were reunited.\n\u201cDid he shoot at you?\u201d Dick queried anxiously.\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t know what he shot at. Maybe he thought it was me,\u201d Sandy\nreplied. \u201cI\u2019m half frozen. Gosh, it seemed hours out here.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s hurry back to the cabin,\u201d Dick hastened. \u201cToma is there, and\nwe\u2019ve captured the scar faced Indian.\u201d\nSandy was too cold to care how many Indians had been captured, and he\nhobbled along after Dick like a stiff, old man.\n\u201cI hope Toma is all right,\u201d Dick said anxiously as they neared the\ncabin.\nOn the threshold of the cabin they stood a moment later in stark\namazement. Toma lay bleeding and silent on the floor, and the scar faced\nIndian was gone!\n\u201cWell, if that doesn\u2019t beat anything!\u201d Dick ejaculated, rushing to Toma.\nThe young guide came to at the application of a little water. His head\nhad been struck with something; an overturned chair revealed what the\nescaped Indian had probably used.\n\u201cHe slip out ropes some way,\u201d Toma explained when he could sit up once\nmore. \u201cI watch door when him jump on me. That all I know.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you\u2019re alive\u2014that\u2019s all I can say,\u201d Dick said thankfully.\n\u201cHello, what\u2019s this?\u201d Sandy hurried from the fireplace where he had been\nwarming himself to the crude wooden table. A slip of paper with writing\non it lay among the scattered playing cards. Dick also hastened forward\nand read the roughly scrawled words:\n  Pierre Govereau:\n  Send Many-Scar Jackson and Swede to Big John Toma\u2019s cabin. We want the\n  black fox fur he has hidden there.\nDick and Sandy read it aloud to Toma.\n\u201cThis my big brother\u2019s cabin,\u201d Toma explained simply. \u201cLast night I see\nno one when look in window. I go in. That Many-Scar and other fella come\nin, ketch me. I not know where Big John is. They not find um black fox.\nBig John sell um black fox t\u2019ree weeks go by.\u201d\nDick and Sandy dropped their eyes. They now felt sure who the man was\nthat Dick had fallen over\u2014the dead man. How could they tell Toma? At\nlast Dick took the guide\u2019s arm. Silently they went out, Sandy following.\nToma showed no emotion as they showed him the body partly covered with\nsnow. He might have been a wooden image as he said quietly:\n\u201cHim Big John Toma; I know before I see. I feel he dead. That\nMany-Scar\u2014\u2014\u201d something choked off his voice. His dark eyes suddenly\nflashed and glowed like coals of fire.\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t give ten cents for Many-Scar\u2019s life, slick as that Indian\nis,\u201d Sandy whispered.\nDick nodded.\nThough all felt they had no time to lose, since Govereau\u2019s men might be\nexpected to follow them, they could not leave Toma\u2019s brother without\nburial.\nAll three set to work under the spruce trees, hacking through the frozen\nsoil with axes. In a half hour they had dug a shallow grave. Wrapped in\nblankets, they gently lowered the body of Big John Toma to its last\nresting place.\nDick fashioned a rude cross from two saplings, which he showed to Toma.\nThe young Indian nodded. \u201cGood; him Christian\u2014me too,\u201d said the guide.\nWhen they had placed the last sod on the mound, Dick and Sandy left\ntheir friend alone by the grave and went to the cabin to prepare for\ncontinuing their journey. They found much pemmican and dried fish, upon\nwhich Big John Toma had existed, but nowhere any flour or coffee. By the\ntime they had arranged shoulder packs and had donned whatever warm\nclothes they had found, Toma had joined them. He seemed his old self\nonce more, though Dick and Sandy knew that behind his mask of\nindifference was deep sorrow and a mighty resolve for the redskin\u2019s\nrevenge upon the murderer of his brother. The guide refused to take the\nmoney Dick offered him for the food and clothing they had taken from Big\nJohn\u2019s cabin.\n\u201cWe three days from Fort Dunwoody now,\u201d Toma told them when they were\nready for the trail. \u201cNot sure we make um three days. Big blizzard come\npretty soon now. Mebbe tomorrow. We get um dog sled then. Need um bad.\u201d\nAll that day Toma led them due southeast, across higher ground, where\nvegetation was sparse. They crossed one shallow valley where there were\nno trees at all, and upon a ridge at the other side made camp. It was an\nadvantageous spot from which to watch the back trail, and before they\nstarted on they were disturbed by the sight of three tiny figures. The\nmen were undoubtedly on their trail. Straight across the valley they\ntoiled and they were coming fast.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet it\u2019s Govereau!\u201d Dick exclaimed in alarm.\n\u201cYes, and it looks as if we were only about three miles ahead of him,\u201d\nSandy declared. \u201cLet\u2019s get a move on. I don\u2019t want to get mixed up with\nhim again.\u201d\n\u201cNeither do I,\u201d Dick heartily agreed.\nToma was of the same mind, and they all set off at a fast pace when once\nmore they took to the trail. They felt confident they could lengthen the\nlead on their pursuers, but two hours after noon, when they paused to\nrest on a high ridge, they looked back and were astounded to see the\nthree men not more than a mile behind them.\n\u201cThem best trail men Govereau got,\u201d Toma protected his own prowess on\nfinding that he had been outpaced.\nThey started on again, doubling their former speed. A half hour more\nbrought them to the banks of a river.\n\u201cHim Saskatoon River,\u201d Toma told them. \u201cHim full slush ice. We make um\nraft in hurry; get over, then we safe from Govereau.\u201d\nDick and Sandy looked off across the sullen expanse of the Saskatoon. As\nToma had said, it was filled with a slow-moving mass of slush, formed by\nnight freezes and day thaws.\nThey fell to work like Trojans on a raft, lashing dead logs together\nwith tiny saplings and tough vines. It was a cumbersome raft that they\nat last shoved out into the icy stream. With poles to propel the\nunwieldy craft, they began the perilous trip across the river. The delay\ncaused by the building of the raft had given their pursuers time to\novertake them, and at any moment they expected to hear a shout or rifle\nshots from the shore they were slowly leaving behind.\nOne side of the raft was heavier than the other, and out in the current\nthey came near being spilled off, before they followed Toma\u2019s example\nand balanced the logs by shifting their weight from side to side.\nPushing on desperately, they reached midstream, when their pursuers\nreached the river. But the few shots that were fired fell short. The\nboys had poled the raft out of range. Waving their hands to the\nchagrined men they reached the other shore and, abandoning their raft,\nhastened on.\nOnce more snow was spitting out of the gray heavens, and it was growing\nsteadily colder. They hiked for three miles, then Toma advised a halt\nThe guide began immediately throwing up a shelter of boughs. Dick and\nSandy helped with a will, and they finished none too soon. With the fall\nof night the blizzard Toma had prophesied swept down upon them like a\nthousand, shrieking demons.\nWhen the boys awoke on the following morning, numb and stiff from cold\nin spite of the protection of their crudely constructed shelter, a full\nsix inches of snow covered the surface of their blankets.\n\u201cSnow make um much warmer to sleep,\u201d Toma explained to them, as he\ncrawled out of his bed, very much as a husky gets out of a snowdrift.\nDick turned his eyes towards the open door of the shelter and shivered.\nContrary to his expectations the storm had not abated during the night.\nA shining, white wall of snow almost shut out any view of their camp\nsurroundings, while the wind continued to howl furiously.\nTo all appearances, the boys were shut in by the high, white walls of a\nsnow prison. Snow sifted in the door of their shelter and through the\nnumerous cracks in the walls.\n\u201cI\u2019m not crazy about getting up,\u201d Sandy observed, with a seriousness\nthat brought a laugh from Dick and Toma. \u201cAnyhow, nobody can get\nanywhere in a storm like this.\u201d\n\u201cThe wind, she blow from northwest,\u201d Toma cut in. \u201cNo get lost when wind\nblow hard like that. Keep wind on left side. No like\u2014but better than\nstay here.\u201d\nThe young guide counted slowly on his fingers, and went on:\n\u201cMe know place where young Indian live. Him called Raoul Testawich. Got\num cabin nice and warm, an\u2019 mebbe we ketch um good dog team there.\u201d\n\u201cFine!\u201d exclaimed Dick, \u201cwe\u2019ll make a try for it. Sure you won\u2019t get\nlost?\u201d\nToma shook his head.\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the guide, with assurance. \u201cI find way all right. Best thing\nwe go.\u201d\nSomewhere in the back of Dick\u2019s mind there was some doubt as to the\nadvisability of facing such a storm, yet he had implicit faith in the\nprowess of Toma, and he did not question the young Indian\u2019s ability.\n\u201cIt\u2019ll be great to get near a warm fireplace again,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWhat do\nyou say, Sandy?\u201d\nSandy\u2019s answer was to spring up out of his blankets and commence\nimmediate preparations for breakfast. A fire was started with\nconsiderable difficulty, and less than an hour later the three boys were\non the trail again, walking Indian file with Toma in the lead.\nBut the storm was worse even than they had anticipated. It was fury\nunleashed, it sucked the very breath out of their mouths and blew\nthrough their mackinaws as if they had been cheesecloth. Dick imagined\nthat the weight of the snow-laden air alone was sufficient to prevent\nany long continued trek across that blinding field of white.\nTaking turns breaking trail, they proceeded at a slow pace, puffing with\nexertion. And always they kept the wind on their left, Toma calling out\nencouragement from time to time to keep up the spirits of his\nless-hardened and less-experienced comrades.\nMoisture froze on their coat collars, formed by the warmth of their\nbreath against the freezing wind. Breathing became more and more\ndifficult, and Sandy, the weaker physically of the three, began to\ncomplain of aching muscles and finally stopped short, panting heavily.\n\u201cI\u2019m tired out,\u201d he gasped, \u201c\u2014\u2014all in. Dick, I don\u2019t believe I can go a\nstep further. Can\u2019t we sit down and rest?\u201d\nDick was on the point of acceding to Sandy\u2019s request, when Toma, several\npaces in the lead, came back, crying out his disapproval.\n\u201cNo! No!\u201d shouted the guide above the howling of the wind. \u201cNo do that;\nget um legs all stiffened up. Bye an\u2019 bye can\u2019t move. Mebbe we better go\nslower, but no sit down.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll try to go on,\u201d declared Sandy bravely, \u201cbut you fellows better\nstop now and then to give me a chance to breathe. I tell you I\u2019m all\nin.\u201d\nAnd so they went on, bracing themselves against the fury of the wind,\nshuffling forward through mounting drifts, in places piled waist high,\nas if to block their progress. On several occasions, so violent was the\nstorm that it was impossible to see anything. Once, fighting their way\nthrough a smothering fog of white, Toma shouted out a warning.\nThey were traveling down a sharp incline at the time, attempting to\nreach a river bottom, where towering cliffs would protect them somewhat\nfrom the force of the wind. Toma shouted to them. His keen ears had\ndetected a sound other than that made by the blizzard. It was a\ndifferent sound, and he had heard it before\u2014a queer rumbling, followed\nby a mighty roar.\nWith a quickness born of desperation, the guide seized Dick and Sandy by\nthe arms and pulled them out of the path of an almost certain death.\nAs the boys stood trembling and appalled at the deafening tumult about\nthem, what seemed at first a vast mountain of snow, went shooting past,\ncarrying everything before it. The snowslide left in its wake nothing\nbut a wide belt of barren ground\u2014even huge rocks had been torn away from\nthe earth and hurtled on into the storm.\n\u201cThat was close enough to suit me,\u201d declared Sandy in a tragic whisper,\nas the boys continued their descent. \u201cI\u2019ve never seen a snowslide\nbefore, and I don\u2019t wish to see another one. Do you feel shaky, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I do,\u201d admitted Dick, his cheeks slightly pale. \u201cI thought the\nentire upper part of the valley wall was falling in on us.\u201d He turned to\nToma. \u201cDo you suppose,\u201d he inquired, \u201cthat it\u2019ll be safe to go down?\u201d\nThe Indian lad shook his head thoughtfully.\n\u201cMe no can tell. Mebbe more snowslide after while. We take chance\u2014that\u2019s\nall.\u201d\nDick and Sandy hesitated.\n\u201cPerhaps we\u2019d better not go down to the river,\u201d said Dick. \u201cIt may be a\nwiser plan to keep up above, where there isn\u2019t the danger from these\navalanches. No use to risk our lives needlessly,\u201d he pointed out.\nTheir guide grunted something under his breath, then looked up, his\nsober, dark eyes twinkling.\n\u201cSnowslide catch us in the valley,\u201d he pronounced. \u201cBig blizzard catch\nus on top. Which way you like die best?\u201d\nAt any other time the two boys would have seen the humor in the\nsituation, but at that particular moment neither Sandy nor Dick felt\nthat there was anything funny about it. For a brief interval they stood,\ndeep in thought, their two youthful faces clouded with apprehension.\n\u201cIt makes no difference to me which way I die,\u201d declared Sandy at\nlength, kicking disconsolately at the trunk of a small tree, which had\nbeen uprooted by the force of the snowslide. \u201cWe\u2019re more than half way\ndown to the river now, so what\u2019s the use of turning back. My choice is\nthe valley. At least, we can travel faster down there, with more\nprotection from the storm.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d agreed Dick, \u201cI choose the valley, too. Do you think we\ncan reach your friend Raoul\u2019s place before dark?\u201d\n\u201cBest we can do it take three hours from here,\u201d replied Toma, \u201can\u2019 night\ncome early. One hour more mebbe an\u2019 then we no see at all. Dark all\n\u2019round. Travel very slow then. Raoul him live on top of river bank ten,\nfifteen miles from here.\u201d\nWithout further word, the three boys made their way quickly down to the\nfloor of the valley and proceeded on their way. Beneath their feet was\nthe frozen course of the Bad Heart River, winding forth through a white\nworld of weird, irregular cliffs, now deeply mantled with snow.\n\u201cThis is better,\u201d Sandy growled, looking up to where the storm broke\nabove their heads. \u201cI never would have thought it would make so much\ndifference being down here. You can actually see a little and hardly\nfeel the wind at all.\u201d\n\u201cFine!\u201d answered Dick. \u201cBut save your breath, Sandy. You\u2019ll need it.\u201d\nMonotonously, heavily, the moccasined feet of the three snow-covered\nfigures crunched along the unbroken trail. In the lead, Toma glided\nahead with an untiring energy that filled Dick with admiration. He\nwondered what the young half-breed was thinking about. Was he, too,\nsecretly fearful of some new impending danger lurking in their path?\nHe noticed presently that the shadows, flung across the floor of the\nvalley, were gradually becoming darker and darker, a heavy dusk had\nsettled around them. Toma, barely four feet away, was a vague,\nindistinct blur, completely shutting off his view of the trail in front\nof him.\nThat the fury of the blizzard had not abated, was easily apparent. He\ncould still hear the wind howling above their heads, and feel the snow\nas it sifted quietly down. At every step his feet sunk into the soft,\nyielding surface, and his heart pounded like a trip-hammer from the\ncontinuous, never-ending exertion.\n\u201cHow much farther?\u201d Sandy demanded, a note of despair in his voice. \u201cHow\nmuch farther, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cNo can tell.\u201d\nSandy mumbled and complained to himself. He came stumbling and panting\nbehind Dick, keeping up an incessant babbling or muttering that filled\nhis friend with alarm.\n\u201cHow much farther?\u201d he asked again.\nToma grunted.\n\u201cNo can tell.\u201d\nA snort of fury seized upon Sandy. With a strangled, despairing cry, he\nsprang forward past Dick and seized Toma by the shoulder.\n\u201cListen to me you, you\u2014Indian. I\u2019ve got a right to know how far we\u2019ve\ngone. Come on, now\u2014out with it!\u201d\nToma turned as if to brush off the detaining hand, when Sandy struck out\nwith all the force of his right arm. It was an unexpected blow which\nsent the young Indian guide staggering to his knees. Aghast, scarcely\nbelieving his senses, Dick stood in bewilderment for a moment unable to\nmove. With incredible speed, his companion had sprung forward again, his\nfumbling, eager hands encircling Toma\u2019s throat.\n\u201cStop it!\u201d shrieked Dick.\nA shrill, unearthly shout, terrible in that utter desolation, seemed to\nfreeze Dick\u2019s blood. Toma and Sandy were at grips, struggling, rolling\u2014a\ndark, almost indistinguishable ball against the gray background of\nbillowing drifts.\n\u201cStop it!\u201d roared Dick again, and, jumping in, endeavored to separate\nthem. He was still somewhat dazed over the sudden, unexpected turn\nevents had taken. What had happened to Sandy? What was the meaning of\nthat unwarranted attack upon the kindly young Indian guide? Had the\nhardship and severe nervous strain of the past few days, proved too much\nfor his friend? Desperately he tugged and pulled at the two combatants,\nfinally breathing a sigh of thankfulness as Toma rolled on top,\nsuccessfully pinning the arms of his assailant.\n\u201cFight all gone,\u201d declared the victor between gasps of exhaustion,\nraising one hand to wipe away the blood trickling from a cut over his\nleft eye. \u201cHm, poor fellow go sleep bye an bye. Trail too much. Worry\ntoo much. All make him mad like grizzly caught in trap, an\u2019 fight like\ngrizzly till strength all gone.\u201d\nToma arose, brushing the snow from his clothing, then placed a still\ntrembling hand on Dick\u2019s arm.\n\u201cHim lay there all night\u2014huh?\u201d he inquired. \u201cWhat you think we do next?\nWhat you think?\u201d\nDisconsolately, Dick gazed out into the black pall of darkness which had\ngathered around them.\n\u201cToma,\u201d he inquired presently, \u201cdo you believe Sandy will feel better\nafter a while? Will he be able to get up and walk again?\u201d\n\u201cHim walk no more tonight,\u201d stated Toma with conviction.\n\u201cIn that case, there\u2019s only one thing to do. I\u2019ll camp here with Sandy\nwhile you go on to your friend\u2019s house for help. Do you think you can\nmake it, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cYou start \u2019em fire here,\u201d instructed the Indian. \u201cMe make it all right.\nGet back two, three hours, mebbe, with dog team and take poor Sandy to\nwarm bed. Please no worry if I be little late.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered Dick, gulping down a hard substance in his throat.\n\u201cGood-bye and good luck to you, Toma. I\u2019ll be here when you return.\u201d\nNot a suspicious moisture, but real tears were standing in Dick\u2019s eyes a\nfew minutes later as he and the young half-breed separated over the\nrecumbent body of Sandy. A single, warm hand-clasp, then Toma was away,\nhis footfalls sounding faintly through the dark.\nSeveral hours had passed since Toma\u2019s departure, and the fire Dick had\nkindled had burned down to a mass of glowing, red embers. The still\nfalling snow hissed and sputtered over the coals. Off in the distance a\nfew wolves howled. Sandy lay stretched out at Dick\u2019s feet and the owner\nof the feet himself drowsed and nodded in a futile effort to keep awake.\nHe recovered consciousness a few moments later, however, when a\nhalf-burned stick, lying on the outer edge of the fire, crackled forth\nsuddenly like a cap in a toy pistol. In an instant he was wide-eyed and\nalert, his eyes straining towards the outer rim of darkness. He could\nsee nothing.\n\u201cDreaming again,\u201d he grumbled to himself, looking down at Sandy, and\nwondering how much time had elapsed since the young Indian guide had set\nout on his perilous journey through the storm. Then his thoughts turned\nto the happenings of the day.\nOne thing that bothered Dick, and which he had not yet explained\nentirely to his own satisfaction, was Sandy\u2019s strange behavior a few\nhours previous. The young Scotchman\u2019s violent and unwarranted attack\nupon Toma was not in the least like the usual happy-go-lucky conduct\nthat Dick had ascribed to his friend. Of course, he had heard many times\nbefore, of similar cases where men, driven to the limit of physical\nexertion, had acted queerly. It was a sort of temporary mental breakdown\npreceding physical collapse. What Sandy needed was a good sleep,\nfollowed by a day or two of complete rest. He\u2019d probably feel better in\nthe morning.\nFor the next few minutes Dick busied himself in gathering more wood for\nthe fire. His first duty was to keep himself and Sandy warm, as warm as\npossible in their hastily improvised camp there in the inadequate\nshelter of the river bottom.\n\u201cToma will be back in an hour or two,\u201d he thought to himself, \u201cand then\neverything will be all right.\u201d\nHe looked down at Sandy, whom he had bundled up in their two blankets\nand hoped devoutly that nothing had happened which might delay the young\nIndian\u2019s safe return. Although not in the least doubting the guide\u2019s\nprowess, Dick had learned to his sorrow that Govereau\u2019s opposition was\nnot the only factor to be considered in the successful carrying out of\ntheir plans.\n\u201cThere is always this blamed wilderness to contend with,\u201d ruminated\nDick. \u201cTreacherous rivers, forest fires, wild beasts, the danger of\nfreezing to death in the extreme cold or getting lost in a blizzard.\nSometimes I think\u2014\u2014\u201d\nExactly what Dick thought will probably never be recorded. He woke\nsuddenly from his preoccupation, a look of fear in his eyes, every nerve\ntingling as if tiny electric wires ran close to the surface of his skin.\nA slight sound somewhere out there in the enveloping darkness had caught\nhis attention. In addition, there had quickly come over him a vague\nfeeling that he and Sandy were not alone, that an actual presence,\neither an animal of some sort or a human being, had intruded within the\ncircle of their campfire and was ready to pounce down upon them.\nFor a brief second Dick could scarcely suppress the cry of terror that\nhad sprung to his lips. He wanted to turn his head to look at the thing\nhe knew to be immediately behind him, but, for some unknown reason, his\nbody seemed incapable of action. Instead he sat there, weak and\ntrembling, the blood pounding in his throat with a force almost\nsuffocating.\nWith a truly mighty effort he contrived finally to twist and squirm\naround so that his gaze could discern the thing that menaced him, and in\nthat instant he caught wildly at the trunk of the up-rooted tree upon\nwhich he sat, so frozen with horror, that the person who stood\nimmediately opposite\u2014probably no more than ten or twelve feet away\u2014might\neasily have advanced and overpowered him without encountering even the\nslightest resistance.\nIn all his life, Dick had never seen so strange an apparition. His first\nsickening impression was that he was confronted not by a man at all but\nby a real ghost, fashioned out of a substance as hard and unyielding as\na block of ice. In the glare of the campfire, the person\u2019s body gave\nforth a peculiar gleam or sparkle that so amazed and confounded Dick\nthat he found himself putting up his hands to his eyes in an effort to\nshut out the unusual sight.\n\u201cToma, he tell me come,\u201d issued a friendly voice from the ghost-like\nfigure, standing there in front of him. \u201cYou no \u2019fraid me.\u201d\nDick came to with a start.\n\u201cNo,\u201d he mumbled weakly.\n\u201cToma one mile down river,\u201d continued the voice. \u201cHim stuck in ice with\nhuskies. Mebbe no get sled out.\u201d\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that!\u201d demanded Dick. \u201cI don\u2019t think I understand you.\u201d\n\u201cIce thin where river runs quick. Toma, me, drive on river too close to\nrapids. Hurry up get back here for sick fella. We go fast. Toma, me, sit\nin sled. All at once ice break. Toma, huskies, me, sled\u2014everybody fall\nin river.\u201d\nDick sat and stared incredulously at the speaker. He understood now.\nThis was Raoul Testawich, Toma\u2019s friend, who, in his broken English, was\ntrying to describe what had taken place that night farther up the river.\nDick shivered at the thought of that unexpected, icy-cold plunge when\nthe sled with its two occupants had broken through into the river. No\nwonder that young Testawich looked like a ghost, his clothing a\nglistening ice and snow-covered mantle of white.\n\u201cIs Toma safe?\u201d he questioned eagerly.\n\u201cYes,\u201d nodded the half-breed, \u201cToma all right, but sled gone. Cut\nharness away from sled to save huskies. Toma stay back there now and\nwatch dogs. What you think; you, me take sick fella along that far?\u201d\n\u201cWe can try,\u201d answered Dick in an awed voice. \u201cHow far did you say it\nwas?\u201d\n\u201cAbout one mile,\u201d said Raoul.\n\u201cWe can do it!\u201d Dick stated with conviction. \u201cI know we can\u2014even if we\nare compelled to drag and carry him all the way.\u201d\nThere was admiration and wonder in Dick\u2019s eyes now as he looked at the\nice-clad form of the half-breed. What tremendous endurance Toma and this\nman must have. It seemed almost incredible.\nHe rose quickly, fired with new determination, walked over to the spot\nwhere Sandy lay and, as gently as possible, attempted to arouse him.\n\u201cWake up! Wake up, Sandy!\u201d he called.\nSeveral minutes elapsed before Dick succeeded in dragging his friend to\nan upright position. Sandy swayed on his feet, mumbling incoherently,\nglaring about him with blood-shot, unseeing eyes. Supported by a\nfriendly arm on either side, he moved forward, almost a dead weight\nbetween them.\n\u201cWe get there sooner you think,\u201d encouraged Raoul. \u201cBye an\u2019 bye we turn\nbend in river an\u2019 then you see Toma\u2019s campfire. Little fella pretty\nsick.\u201d\nThey mushed on in silence. Step by step, slowly, at what seemed to Dick\na snail\u2019s pace, they plodded through the darkness towards the place\nwhere the courageous young half-breed guide awaited them. The snow had\nceased to fall. The roar of the storm above their heads had died down to\na faint murmuring. Presently Raoul spoke:\n\u201cI see light now. Pretty soon we get to campfire. Then dogs pull sick\nfella rest of way to my home.\u201d\n\u201cBut we haven\u2019t any sled,\u201d interposed Dick.\n\u201cToma tie poles together for sled by time we get there. Make \u2019em pole\nsled for sick fella.\u201d\nAgain they went on in silence. The light of Toma\u2019s campfire gradually\ngrew brighter as they advanced. Presently Dick discerned the lonely\nfigure of the Indian guide and after a time, five blotches in the snow,\nfive furry forms that snarled and howled as they waited impatiently for\nthe return of their master.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve made it!\u201d howled Dick, unable to suppress his exultation. \u201cWe\u2019ve\nmade it, Toma, old boy. Yip! Yip!\u201d\nToma\u2019s answering shout was drowned out by a deafening chorus from the\nhuskies.\nThe cabin of Raoul Testawich, which stood in a sheltering grove of\nspruce a few miles back from Bad Heart river, loomed up through the\ndarkness several hours later as Toma, Raoul and Dick, with the team of\nhuskies in the lead, crossed a narrow coulee about thirty yards away\nfrom the house and plunged on through heavy drifts to the narrow,\ncleared space immediately in front of the door.\nWrapped in blankets, Sandy still lay on the hastily improvised sled. As\nhis three comrades gathered about him, a heavy door squeaked open and a\nsleepy voice, in Cree, called out a welcome. In an incredibly short time\nthey had lifted Sandy from the sled and had carried him within, gently\nplacing him in a bunk at one end of the room.\nA young Indian girl, whom Dick judged to be Raoul\u2019s wife or sister,\nclosed the door after them and advanced swiftly to the mud fireplace\nwhere, over crackling spruce logs, a heavy iron pot sent forth the\npleasant aroma of steaming moose meat. Close by, with growing interest\nand enthusiasm, Dick beheld a small table laden with food.\n\u201cWe eat this time for sure,\u201d grinned Toma, nudging Dick\u2019s arm. \u201cMebbe\nyou no want eat now.\u201d\n\u201cLike fun, I don\u2019t,\u201d laughed the other. \u201cThere are two things I\nwant\u2014food and sleep. I\u2019m so blamed tired that Raoul will have to wait\nuntil sometime tomorrow before I buy his dog team. I believe I could\nsleep for three days.\u201d\n\u201cYou sleep long you like,\u201d conceded Toma, as Raoul left the room to look\nafter the dogs. \u201cHim, Raoul, my very good friend. Fine fella. Like \u2019em\nsister, too. Mebbe some day marry girl.\u201d\nThe far away expression in the young half-breed\u2019s eyes drew a laugh from\nDick.\n\u201cI\u2019m glad to hear that,\u201d he said, \u201cand I want to congratulate you. When\ndo you expect to get married?\u201d\n\u201cFour\u2014five\u2014six years,\u201d he answered, counting laboriously on his fingers.\n\u201cFather Girard he tell \u2019em me at mission too young yet. No marry till\nget older. Get older very slow,\u201d he concluded, casting woebegone eyes in\nthe direction of the young lady of his choice.\nThe re-entrance of Raoul cut short any further reference to the subject\nof Toma\u2019s tender affair of the heart. It was well, too, for the face of\nthe owner of the huskies wore a look of concern as he strode forward and\ncommenced to remove his outer garments, still thickly encrusted with ice\nand snow. As he fumbled with the buttons of his moose-hide coat, he\nbroke forth excitedly in Cree, pausing now and again to make quick,\nexplanatory gestures with his hands.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the trouble?\u201d demanded Dick, who though not understanding one\nword that had been spoken, could tell from the Indian\u2019s expression that\nsomething out of the ordinary had taken place. \u201cWhat did he say, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cHe say,\u201d interrupted the guide, \u201cthat he no like way huskies act.\nHuskies tired but no want to lie down and make bed in snowdrift. Huskies\nafraid of something, very much afraid.\u201d\n\u201cThat not all,\u201d Toma continued as a relieved expression brightened\nDick\u2019s eyes. \u201cRaoul him not sure, but see track mebbe made by snowshoe.\nLook like snowshoe track only wind blow snow over it. Raoul think\nGovereau\u2019s men come here tonight and look for us. What you think? Mebbe\ncamped not far away.\u201d\nFor a brief moment, a look of apprehension, of fear, swept through Dick.\nThe supposition was not entirely impossible. Experience had taught him\nthat Govereau was both an experienced woodsman and an implacable enemy,\na man who had the disconcerting habit of putting in an appearance at\ntimes when one least expected him. On the other hand, Dick could not\nhelp but believe that the hated French half-breed had not yet succeeded\nin catching up with them. The incident at the river when he, Sandy and\nToma had crossed through the ice floe successfully, must have delayed\nhim considerably.\n\u201cI don\u2019t think he has had time to overtake us yet,\u201d said Dick. \u201cIf any\none has been here today, it must be someone else.\u201d\nToma shook his head.\n\u201cMebbe you right. I like think so. All same Govereau make you surprise\nonce in a while. Fool ever\u2019body.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d rejoined Dick, \u201cbut if Govereau really is here, he\u2019s here\nand that\u2019s an end to it. There\u2019s nothing that we can do except to fight\nhim and take our own risks. I think that you and Raoul had better get\ninto some dry clothes as quickly as possible. A good supper and a sound\nsleep afterwards are the first things to be considered. I wonder if I\u2019d\nbetter wake Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cHim better sleep long time an\u2019 wake up himself. Him be all right then.\u201d\nDick heeded this advice from Toma and a few minutes later sat down to\none of the most enjoyable meals he had eaten in weeks. Then he and the\nyoung Indian guide tumbled into the bunk above Sandy and were almost\ninstantly fast asleep, their weary limbs stretching out in the luxurious\nsoftness of a white rabbit sleeping-bag.\nThey woke on the following afternoon and clambered down from their\nperch. To his amazement, Dick beheld Sandy, somewhat pale but otherwise\nquite his usual self, sitting at the table, opposite their host. He was\neating gruel from a bowl and conversing in low tones to Raoul.\n\u201cWhy, Sandy!\u201d exclaimed Dick, unable to conceal his delight. \u201cWhat has\nhappened?\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re up.\u201d\n\u201cSure I\u2019m up,\u201d the voice of the young Scotchman rose in jovial good\nhumor as he glanced across at his two friends, who were dressing\nhurriedly. \u201cDidn\u2019t expect me to lie in bed all night and all day too,\ndid you?\u201d\n\u201cYes, but how do you feel?\u201d\nSandy put down his spoon and swung round to meet Dick\u2019s inquiring gaze.\n\u201cA little shaky, I guess, but otherwise about the same as usual. By the\nway, Dick, what happened yesterday? When I woke up this morning, I\ncouldn\u2019t imagine where I was. And funny thing\u2014I can\u2019t remember very much\nof what took place on the trail. Did I get hurt?\u201d\n\u201cDidn\u2019t Raoul tell you?\u201d\n\u201cNot yet.\u201d\nDick picked up his moccasins and began absently to turn them in his\nhands. For Sandy\u2019s benefit, it had occurred to him to gloss over the\nevents of the previous day, to give his friend as little information as\npossible. It was not that Sandy\u2019s breakdown was anything to be ashamed\nof, considering what he had been through. It was not that, Dick told\nhimself. It was the possible effect the news might have on him. For\nSandy was proud, and the knowledge of even a temporary weakness on his\npart would be sure to cause him a good deal of humiliation.\n\u201cYou played out on the trail, Sandy,\u201d Dick stated evenly. \u201cI was all in\nmyself. I hope we never again have so many obstacles and difficulties to\ncontend with. I can\u2019t imagine what would have happened to us if Toma\nhadn\u2019t gone for help. We have Toma and Raoul to thank for getting\nthrough safely yesterday.\u201d\n\u201cToma is always doing remarkable things,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cI can\u2019t help but\nadmire the way he broke trail through that storm. Wish I had half his\nendurance.\u201d\n\u201cYou no talk about me so much,\u201d Toma broke forth, pretending to be\nangry, but grinning in spite of himself. \u201cMe no like \u2019em all big words.\nMebbe make fun of me.\u201d\n\u201cYou hurry up dress,\u201d interposed Raoul. \u201cMy sister wait in next room to\nbring something to eat. Pretty soon we have breakfast middle of the\nnight.\u201d\n\u201cAll right,\u201d laughed Dick, \u201cwe\u2019ll hurry. I\u2019ll be ready as soon as I put\non these moccasins.\u201d\nHe was looking at Raoul as he spoke, but was hardly prepared for what\nsuddenly ensued. The young Indian was abruptly on his feet and had\ndashed forward to one side of the room, where he caught up a rifle,\nwhich had been leaning there against the wall. Amazed at first, Dick\nquickly caught the significance of Raoul\u2019s actions, as there came to his\nears the dull tromping of feet outside, followed quickly by a loud\nthumping at the door. A moment later, a towering, heavy form broke into\nthe room and stood blinking across at them.\n\u201cWhat you want!\u201d demanded Raoul, flourishing his rifle.\nThe intruder closed the door behind him, his shifting eyes regarding\neach of them in turn. He was a big man, clothed almost entirely in fur,\na parka concealing the lower part of his face. As the four other\noccupants of the room stood or sat watching him, he shook off his heavy\nmitts, kicked the snow from his feet and removed his parka. His general\nappearance, Dick observed, was far from prepossessing.\n\u201cWhat you want!\u201d repeated Raoul.\n\u201cYou don\u2019t need to be afeered o\u2019 me,\u201d finally grumbled their unexpected\nguest, rubbing one burly hand against his bearded cheek. \u201cPut down yer\ngun, brother, I ain\u2019t gonna hurt nobody. I jes\u2019 came in to get warm an\u2019\nask fer something to eat. Been hoofing it all the way from Twin Brothers\nCreek, near the Big Smokey. Left there this morning. Stranger in these\nparts. My name\u2019s Bill Watson. Guess you don\u2019t know me.\u201d\nDick was conscious of a feeling of relief to learn something of the\nintruder\u2019s identity. At least, he was not one of Govereau\u2019s men. Then\nDick felt Toma\u2019s face brushing close to his own.\n\u201cNo like him,\u201d breathed the guide in a scarcely audible whisper.\n\u201cEver\u2019body watch out. See him one time before with Govereau. He come to\nfind out if you and Sandy here.\u201d\nToma drew back quickly as the stranger\u2019s gaze turned again in their\ndirection.\nDick Kent had no reason to doubt that Toma\u2019s stealthily imparted\ninformation concerning the true identity of Bill Watson was correct. The\nman had been sent by Govereau. His story of the long trek from Twin\nBrothers Creek was a deliberate falsehood intended to deceive Dick and\nhis friends. He was here as a spy to carry out certain instructions from\nGovereau, the accomplishment of which would probably result disastrously\nto their expedition.\nIn a few minutes following Toma\u2019s whispered warning, Dick thought\nswiftly. Their safety and the success of their plans depended upon\nimmediate action. Something had to be done before Watson became aware\nthat anyone suspected him.\nThe first step, of course, was to discover some way to acquaint Sandy\nand Raoul with the stranger\u2019s duplicity. This, of course, must be\naccomplished secretly, and in a manner that would not arouse Watson\u2019s\nslightest suspicion.\n\u201cIf only on some pretext I could get the two of them outside,\u201d thought\nDick, \u201cthe rest would be easy. Four of us would have no difficulty in\ntaking him prisoner. We would bind him hand and foot and then Raoul\ncould keep him here several days while Sandy, Toma and I continued our\njourney with the dog team.\u201d\nAnnette entered from the adjoining room at Raoul\u2019s summons and began\nremoving the dishes from the table, in preparation for the meal for\nWatson, Toma and Dick. Watson now occupied a chair at one side of the\nroom, and sat directly facing Sandy. Raoul had moved forward and was\nassisting his sister with her task, while Toma, like a restless spirit,\nremained unseated, occasionally changing his position from sheer\nnervousness.\n\u201cI ain\u2019t had very much to eat today,\u201d Watson informed them, producing an\nevil-smelling pipe and lighting it with the stub of a match. \u201cBeen too\nbusy mushing to think about it. Trail heavy all the way, too.\u201d\nA strained silence followed. It was evident that Watson intended to make\nhimself perfectly at home, for, a moment later, he stretched out his\nburly legs, and, to Dick\u2019s disgust, spat on the floor.\n\u201cWhere you fellows bound for?\u201d he demanded suddenly of Sandy.\n\u201cNowhere in particular,\u201d replied the young Scotchman non-committally.\n\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d\nWatson\u2019s face darkened with a scowl.\n\u201cI ain\u2019t a goin\u2019 to tell neither if that\u2019s the way you feel about it.\nGuess you never was taught no manners, young man.\u201d\nSandy turned his head slightly and winked covertly at Dick.\n\u201cNo offense intended, I\u2019m sure.\u201d\nThe man from Govereau\u2019s camp grunted something under his breath.\n\u201cLittle boys ain\u2019t got no business on the trail anyway,\u201d he began again,\nthis time in a scoffing tone that caused an angry red to mount suddenly\nin Sandy\u2019s cheeks.\nIn his restless moving about, changing positions often, Toma had\npresently come to a pause close to Sandy and now stood absently tossing\na small object in his hand, his gaze directed toward Annette and Raoul,\nwho were completing preparations for supper. Looking at him, no one\nwould have suspected that any thought, out of the ordinary, lay at the\nback of the young half-breed\u2019s mind. His face was expressionless, yet as\nDick watched him, there flashed from them unexpectedly a look that could\nnot be mistaken.\nIt was as if Toma had sent him some sort of a signal. What was its\nmeaning Dick could not possibly imagine until, apparently by accident,\nthe small object, which looked like a brass buckle, fell from the\nguide\u2019s hand and rolled under Sandy\u2019s chair. As he stepped forward and\nstooped to get it, Dick knew from the expression on Sandy\u2019s face that\nhe, too, had been warned.\n\u201cSupper all ready,\u201d Raoul announced.\nWatson bounded to his feet and was the first to reach the table. Without\nwaiting for further permission he pulled out a chair and slumped into\nit. Dick followed more leisurely, with Toma bringing up the rear. As\nthey approached directly behind Watson\u2019s chair, Toma\u2019s hand shot out,\npoking Dick in the ribs. Half-turning, the recipient of the blow emitted\na startled gasp as he perceived Toma\u2019s long arms steal out and encircle\nthe unsuspecting guest.\nWatson and the chair swayed backward, then toppled over, striking the\nfloor with a resounding crash. The heavy, powerful form rolled to one\nside, endeavoring to break the iron grip of the young half-breed. For a\ntense second Dick stood inactive, then leaped to his friend\u2019s\nassistance. Attempting to pinion Watson\u2019s arms, to his horror Dick saw\ntheir opponent had actually succeeded in pulling a dangerous looking\nautomatic from his pocket and was grimly endeavoring to use it.\nDick seized Watson\u2019s wrist in his two hands, putting forth his last\nounce of strength in an effort to force the gun from the man\u2019s grasp. In\nquick succession three ear-splitting reports rang out. Annette screamed.\nAfter that Dick was not quite sure what was taking place during that\nconfused wild scramble on the floor until he felt the heavy body under\nhim relax and a voice triumphantly proclaim:\n\u201cWell, I guess that ought to settle him for a while.\u201d\nWith perspiration trickling down into his eyes, Dick looked up. Raoul\nstood with a small stick of wood in his hands and close beside him\nSandy, a look of triumph on his face, each surveying their now helpless\nfoe.\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t hit him half hard enough, Raoul,\u201d Sandy protested. \u201cIt was a\ngood thing for him that I didn\u2019t have that club, myself. I might have\nkilled him.\u201d\n\u201cHit \u2019em plenty hard,\u201d Raoul confessed, tossing the stick back toward\nthe fireplace. \u201cTie him up easy now. I go get rope.\u201d\nDick and Toma rose to their feet and a moment later Raoul returned with\na rope. Bound hand and foot, Watson was lifted bodily and carried across\nthe room, where he was deposited not unkindly in the selfsame bunk\noccupied by Sandy on the previous night. Dick breathed a sigh of relief.\n\u201cI\u2019m glad that\u2019s over with,\u201d he declared thankfully. \u201cAll things\nconsidered, we\u2019ve been pretty lucky so far. We\u2019ve beaten Govereau at\nevery turn.\u201d\n\u201cBeaten but not licked,\u201d Sandy reminded him. \u201cI\u2019ll have to admit right\nhere that he\u2019s a mighty tough customer. It\u2019s a good thing Toma saw this\nman, Watson, before. Otherwise things might have turned out\ndifferently.\u201d\n\u201cWe must get an early start in the morning,\u201d said Dick, as he moved back\ntoward the supper table. \u201cI\u2019d hate to meet any more visitors from\nGovereau\u2019s camp. If Raoul is willing, I\u2019ll pay him tonight for the team\nof huskies. What do you think would be a fair price for them, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cRaoul say he willing to sell for two hundred dollars,\u201d answered the\nguide. \u201cThat very cheap for good team like that.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll make it two hundred and fifty. The additional amount wouldn\u2019t\nbegin to pay him for all the kindness he has shown us.\u201d\nAs he spoke, Dick reached in his pocket and pulled out the roll of bills\nFactor MacLean had given him on the day of their departure from Fort du\nLac, and, counting out the sum mentioned, passed it over to Raoul.\n\u201cI hope I\u2019m not cheating you.\u201d\n\u201cYou buy best dog team in the country,\u201d Toma stated enthusiastically.\n\u201cMounted police use \u2019em last winter to carry mail. Govereau go fast to\ncatch us now.\u201d\n\u201cHow long will it take us to reach mounted police headquarters?\u201d\ninquired Sandy.\n\u201cThree, four day if nothing happen,\u201d their guide answered. \u201cFirst day\nsnow too heavy to make trail good. After that mebbe get better.\u201d\nA short time later, a low groan from Watson attested to the fact that\nthat gentleman was slowly regaining consciousness. After considerable\ntossing and rolling about, their captive finally opened his eyes and\npresently called for a drink of water.\n\u201cFeeling better now?\u201d Dick inquired solicitously, when he complied with\nthe request.\n\u201cYeah, I\u2019m feeling better,\u201d came Watson\u2019s smothered retort as he glared\nup angrily at his questioner. \u201cI\u2019m feelin\u2019 a blamed sight better than\nyou\u2019ll be feelin\u2019 in another day or two, I can tell you that.\u201d\n\u201cYou brought it all on yourself,\u201d Dick reminded him. \u201cYou had no\nbusiness coming here to play the part of a spy, in the first place. If\nyou got hurt, it\u2019s your own fault. All I\u2019m sorry about is that the\nunpleasant little blow you received on top of your head wasn\u2019t given to\nthe man who sent you.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d bluffed Watson.\n\u201cI guess you know what I mean,\u201d Dick spoke coldly, \u201cand please get the\nidea out of your mind that we don\u2019t know who you are, and where you came\nfrom.\u201d\n\u201cWhere did I come from?\u201d their prisoner blustered.\n\u201cFrom Govereau.\u201d\n\u201cWell, what are you gonna do about it?\u201d\nThere was defiance in Watson\u2019s voice.\n\u201cIf you mean, what are we going to do with you,\u201d Dick answered, \u201cI might\nas well tell you that we haven\u2019t decided yet. A good deal depends upon\nthe way you behave yourself.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019re thinking seriously of taking you outside and putting a bullet in\nyou,\u201d chimed in Sandy.\n\u201cYuh better not, if you know what\u2019s best for you,\u201d stormed Watson. \u201cIf\nyuh try that, Govereau\u2019ll come down here and make mince-meat out of\nyuh.\u201d\n\u201cHe might walk into the same kind of trap you did,\u201d grinned Sandy.\n\u201cWhere is Govereau now?\u201d asked Dick, shaking his head at Sandy in an\neffort to check the useless controversy. \u201cIf you answer my questions\ntruthfully, we\u2019ll let you off a whole lot easier than we would\notherwise. We might even be induced to give you something to eat.\u201d\n\u201cHe ain\u2019t very far from here.\u201d\n\u201cHow far?\u201d\n\u201cAbout two miles away. We\u2019re camped in the heavy timber jus\u2019 back from\nthe river.\u201d\n\u201cHow did he find out that we are stopping here for the present with\nRaoul?\u201d\n\u201cOne of our men seen a dog team come up here early yesterday morning.\nGovereau thought it might be you, so he sent me over to find out.\u201d\n\u201cIs that all he told you to do?\u201d\nFor a few minutes Watson lay, staring about him, apparently quite\noblivious of his surroundings. He paid no attention to the last question\nput to him. Finally he turned his head, his gaze meeting Dick\u2019s\nsquarely.\n\u201cYou fellows are in a mighty bad position, if you want to know it,\u201d he\nsuddenly blurted out. \u201cThere ain\u2019t one chance in ten thousand that\nyou\u2019ll ever get through alive. Your only hope is to go back to the place\nyou come from.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not asking you for advice,\u201d said Dick angrily.\n\u201cJes\u2019 the same, I\u2019m tellin\u2019 yuh. I wouldn\u2019t take the whole of upper\nCanada to be a standin\u2019 in your shoes just now. You\u2019re only a kid an\u2019\ndon\u2019t realize how bad a mess you\u2019re in.\u201d\nSandy strode forward and put a hand on Dick\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cNo use to bother with him, Dick,\u201d he exclaimed in disgust. \u201cWe\u2019re just\nwasting time. He\u2019d keep us talking here all night. Our best plan is to\nget out of here as quickly as possible. Govereau may be along any time\nto find out what has happened to him.\u201d\n\u201cI think same, too,\u201d Toma cut in. \u201cWhat you say I hitch up huskies, and\nwe start right away?\u201d\nDick glanced from one to the other.\n\u201cI guess you\u2019re right. We can\u2019t any more than lose our way in the dark,\nand we\u2019ve been lost before.\u201d\n\u201cBut what are we going to do with him?\u201d Sandy wondered, pointing at\ntheir prisoner.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to leave him here with Raoul,\u201d Dick replied. Then he turned\nto Toma\u2019s friend.\n\u201cDo you object?\u201d he asked. \u201cYou can release him sometime tomorrow. That\nwill give us a chance to be well on our way before Govereau learns what\nhas become of us.\u201d\nRaoul nodded his head, grinning.\n\u201cAll right, me keep \u2019em big fellow in bed. Bye an\u2019 bye feed him with\nspoon like little baby. How you like that?\u201d he asked, turning to Watson.\nThe only reply from the man in the bunk was a snort of rage as he\ntwisted to one side and glared helplessly about him.\n                      A JOURNEY THROUGH THE NIGHT\nThe lonely journey through the dark proved to be not nearly as difficult\nas Dick had expected. An hour after their departure from Toma\u2019s cabin,\nthe little party emerged from the shelter of spruce and pine, skirting\nthe river, and drove forth upon a comparatively open prairie, piled high\nwith drifts.\nHere the snow had been packed down by the wind and the huskies were able\nto trot across its surface without breaking through. They went forward\nat such a brisk pace that Dick, running behind, was forced to admit,\nbreathlessly, to Toma:\n\u201cI can\u2019t keep this up all night. Can\u2019t you slow down once in a while,\nand give me a chance to catch my breath?\u201d\n\u201cWe all ride now,\u201d the guide answered, motioning Dick to a place on the\nsled in front of Sandy, who, because of his weakened condition, had been\nriding most of the time since they had left the cabin.\nA moment later, sitting at his friend\u2019s feet, Dick was conscious of a\nnew experience. He had never ridden behind a team of huskies before.\n\u201cThis is wonderful,\u201d he remarked as the dogs sprang forward at Toma\u2019s\nsharp word of command. \u201cHow easy they pull us, Sandy. If we keep on at\nthis rate, it won\u2019t take us long to reach mounted police headquarters.\u201d\nToma, who was standing behind, with one hand on the gee-pole, laughed\ngood-naturedly over Dick\u2019s enthusiasm.\n\u201cThey go fast tonight,\u201d he admitted, \u201cbut mebbe tomorrow we come to soft\nsnow in woods. No go fast then.\u201d\nSomewhere, close at hand, there broke forth a weird, unearthly noise, a\nsound that echoed across the stillness, causing both Dick and Sandy to\nsit up very straight, hearts thumping excitedly.\n\u201cWhat was that?\u201d they demanded in chorus.\n\u201cWolves,\u201d came the ready response. \u201cWe see plenty of wolves from now on.\nRabbits very few this year and wolves always hungry.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t want \u2019em to feed on me,\u201d shivered Sandy. \u201cWhat would we\ndo if they should happen along and suddenly decide to make a meal on\nus?\u201d\n\u201cShoot,\u201d answered Dick, one hand stealing back in the sled to make sure\nthat in the hurry of their departure they had not forgotten their\nrifles.\n\u201cThey not come yet,\u201d Toma reassured them. \u201cBye \u2019n\u2019 bye weather get more\ncold, snow more deep, wolves more hungry. Then we watch out. No travel\nlike this at night then. Me \u2019fraid wolves too.\u201d\nDick laughed. \u201cI\u2019m glad to hear that there\u2019s something you\u2019re really\nafraid of, Toma. I\u2019d begun to think that nothing could frighten you.\u201d\nAnother howl from the wolf pack, and Sandy\u2019s mittened hand was pawing at\nDick\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cHonestly, Dick, I don\u2019t like this. Just listen to that! Isn\u2019t it awful?\nToma, are you sure they won\u2019t come over here and try to gobble us up?\u201d\n\u201cPlenty sure,\u201d answered the guide.\nSandy slouched back in his seat again, not entirely convinced in his own\nmind that Toma was right.\n\u201cI hope so,\u201d he grumbled, \u201cbut why in the dickens did the rabbits have\nto get scarce this year. I suppose they heard we were coming along and\njust to make our bad luck complete, hopped off to another part of the\ncountry. I wonder why the wolves didn\u2019t follow them, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cWolves no follow rabbits \u2019cause rabbits all dead,\u201d patiently explained\nthe half-breed.\n\u201cWho killed \u2019em?\u201d Sandy wanted to know.\nToma\u2019s whip cracked forth over the boys\u2019 heads, and the huskies sprang\nforward with redoubled effort.\n\u201cRabbits no get killed\u2014they sick an\u2019 die,\u201d he answered. \u201cWhen you live\nin this country long time you find out queer thing. Ever\u2019 six, seven\nyears see many rabbits\u2014like mosquitos in spring. Wolves an\u2019 coyotes all\nvery fat then. Almost step on rabbits when you walk through woods. When\nrabbits many like that, one fellow him get sick, bye \u2019n\u2019 bye another\nrabbit him sick, too. Pretty soon no rabbits left\u2014all dead. No tell you\nwhy.\u201d\nFollowing this explanation, Sandy lapsed into silence for many moments.\nThere was no sound at all except that made by the pattering feet of the\nhuskies, and the crunching of the sled under them. A belated moon had\nrisen slowly from the distant horizon, and in its pure, white light, the\nboys could now discern objects, which a few hours before had remained\nhidden. Looking about him, Dick saw that the comparatively open space\naround them extended southward for many miles, a vast, snow-covered\nfield, dotted here and there with small patches of poplar.\nThey were passing one of these tree clumps a short time later when,\nplainly discernible, not more than fifty or a hundred yards to their\nright, Dick perceived the huge body of a wolf gliding quickly along,\nalmost abreast of them. The boy\u2019s startled exclamation drew the\nattention of Sandy and Toma.\n\u201cFollow us like that all night, mebbe,\u201d Toma stated indifferently, \u201che\nno come any closer. He \u2019fraid us like we \u2019fraid him.\u201d\n\u201cHe doesn\u2019t appear to be very frightened,\u201d came Sandy\u2019s dry comment,\n\u201cand if he comes one step nearer, I\u2019m going to teach him a few manners.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwe\u2019ve got to save our ammunition. We may need it badly\na little later on. Besides, I doubt very much whether one wolf would\ndare to attack us. It\u2019s a full pack that I\u2019d be afraid of.\u201d\n\u201cIf there were more than one,\u201d rejoined Sandy, peering fearfully across\nat the subject of their conversation, \u201cI think I\u2019d be inclined to pull\nthis blanket over my head. I simply wouldn\u2019t want to see \u2019em.\u201d\nDick\u2019s amused laugh was broken short by a sudden snarling from the\nhuskies. This continued until Toma cracked his whip and shouted out a\nsharp word of command.\n\u201cNo like \u2019em wolves either,\u201d he explained. \u201cYou promise no be afraid if\nI tell you something.\u201d\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d answered Dick. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d\n\u201cYou look on other side.\u201d\nSandy and Dick, following directions, drew in a quick breath of alarm.\nTwo more wolves, equally as large as the one on their right, trotted\nalong unconcernedly across the drifts, their furry forms plainly\ndistinguishable in the moonlight.\n\u201cLord help us!\u201d exclaimed Sandy, with no thought of irreverence.\n\u201cCan you beat that?\u201d Dick wanted to know.\n\u201cNo see wolves any more when morning comes,\u201d Toma attempted to cheer\nthem. \u201cYou wait.\u201d\nAfter that the hours seemed interminable. Both Dick and Sandy had\nforgotten about the novelty of their ride. Intermittently Toma\u2019s whip\ncracked; the huskies moved on; there was no sound except the slight\nnoise of their progress across the field of white. On either side\ntrotted the wolves, three dark shapes, moving like ghosts, never once\nquickening or slackening pace. It was with a sigh of relief that Dick\nfinally perceived the first faint glow of morning across the eastern\nsky.\n\u201cWe stop pretty soon and have something to eat,\u201d announced Toma,\nbreaking the long silence.\nAnd a few minutes later, when they drew up before a small log cabin,\nstanding at the edge of a narrow sheltering woodland, their companions\nof the night\u2014the three wolves\u2014were nowhere in sight.\n\u201cWhat I tell you,\u201d their guide reminded them.\n\u201cRight, as usual,\u201d grumblingly admitted Sandy. \u201cBut tell me, Toma, whose\nplace is this?\u201d\n\u201cAnother friend\u2014him live here,\u201d answered Toma. \u201cWe have breakfast, sleep\ntwo, three hours, then go on some more. No like to travel night.\u201d\nIt took but a few moments to unhitch and feed the huskies. Dick looked\non with interest as Toma threw each one of the dogs its ration of frozen\nfish. Then the three boys strode forward toward the cabin, upon the door\nof which the young half-breed knocked loudly. But no answer ensued.\n\u201cGuess him gone away,\u201d Toma stated, and pushed open the door. \u201cHe no\ncare if we stay here for little while. Mebbe out on trap line.\u201d\nAfter a fire was started in the fireplace, Dick and Toma proceeded to\nget breakfast, while Sandy carried in armloads of wood from the big pile\noutside. They ate in front of a crackling flame, joking and laughing\namongst themselves.\n\u201cWith the help of the huskies,\u201d exulted Sandy, \u201cwe\u2019ll soon leave Pierre\nGovereau so far behind he\u2019ll never catch up. Won\u2019t he be wild when he\nhears how we\u2019ve outwitted him?\u201d\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t be too sure about that if I were you,\u201d Dick cautioned.\n\u201cGovereau isn\u2019t the only man we\u2019ll have to fear either. You know\nHenderson has accomplices all along the line.\u201d\nSo it proved.\nIn spite of their good intentions, their determination to sleep only a\nfew hours, it was morning of the following day when Dick and Sandy awoke\nto find their new team gone and Toma hunting around in the underbrush\nsome distance from camp.\nThe dogs were gone, and that was all there was to it, Dick decided a\nmoment later, after a shouted conference with Toma. They would have to\ngo on on foot. It was discouraging, but it made Dick more determined\nthan ever.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll never get to the fort now,\u201d Sandy grumbled.\n\u201cWell, we\u2019re a darn sight closer than we were,\u201d Dick tried to be\ncheerful.\nThey watched Toma circling the camp, looking for tracks. Presently he\ncame in.\n\u201cSome fella steal dogs all right. Mebbe Henderson\u2019s men; mebbe just\nplain thief. Who know?\u201d\n\u201cWell, they\u2019re gone anyway, and it\u2019s up to us to make the best of it,\u201d\nDick resigned himself. \u201cIt\u2019ll be slow work hauling this sled.\u201d\nToma had nothing more to say. His only answer was to slip the breast\nband of a dog harness over one shoulder and start the sled. Dick and\nSandy followed his lead and presently they were mushing slowly out on\nthe trail.\nIt was exceedingly tiresome business, and within an hour all were leg\nweary. The snow had begun to thaw a little, and was soggy underfoot. The\nsled runners cut down deeply, making it exceedingly hard pulling, even\nwith so light a load as they had.\nLong before noon they were resting frequently. And it was with great\nthankfulness that they at last made camp.\n\u201cPhew! That was a stiff jaunt,\u201d Dick panted, lying flat on his back,\neven his iron endurance tested to the utmost. Sandy was too winded to\nreply. Toma alone seemed to make no note of it. Long since the boys had\nceased being surprised at any of Toma\u2019s feats of muscular endurance.\nThey were about ready to dine on cold baked beans and coffee, when Toma\ncalled their attention to a movement ahead of them from the direction of\nFort Dunwoody. It proved to be a man and a dog team.\n\u201cHonestly, we\u2019re going to meet somebody!\u201d Sandy exclaimed incredulously.\nFor days they had seen few save enemies.\n\u201cWell, maybe this isn\u2019t a friend,\u201d said Dick, dubiously.\nToma studied the man intently as he drew nearer. Finally they could hear\nthe cries of the driver to his dogs and the occasional cracking of his\nlong whip. It was a white man; they could tell even at that distance by\nthe tail to tail hitch of the dogs. Most of the Indians drove in fan\nformation, each dog attached to separate tugs of varying lengths.\nThe stranger stopped some distance from them, and came on more slowly.\nEvidently, he himself was not too certain whether or not he was meeting\na hostile party.\nThey hailed each other.\n\u201cI\u2019m Corporal Richardson of the Mounted,\u201d called the lone driver of the\ndog team. \u201cWho are you?\u201d\n\u201cHurrah!\u201d cheered Sandy.\n\u201cDick Kent and Sandy McClaren with a guide from Fort du Lac,\u201d Dick\ncalled back through cupped palms.\nThe policeman seemed satisfied. Cracking his whip over the dogs, he\nspeedily joined the young travelers.\nCorporal Richardson was dressed in a heavy fur coat and parka. When near\nthe campfire he pulled open his great coat, disclosing the scarlet of\nhis uniform coat. He listened attentively to Dick\u2019s story of their\nadventures, and he seemed favorably impressed with both Dick and Sandy,\nthough at first he was somewhat suspicious of Toma.\n\u201cI left Fort Dunwoody a week ago,\u201d the policeman told them, his steely\neyes unwavering. \u201cWe\u2019ve been hearing rumors of Bear Henderson\u2019s\noutbreak, and I was sent up here to clear some of these trails. Of\ncourse Henderson is rather foolish to think he can whip the Mounted and\nthe Hudson\u2019s Bay Company, but he\u2019s made rather a good try at it already.\nLast report we had he\u2019d burned two trading posts, and had captured three\nmore. Mackenzie\u2019s Landing has fallen to him, I understand. They say his\nnext move is Fort du Lac.\u201d\nDick and Sandy gasped at the revelations of the policeman.\n\u201cDidn\u2019t you know about the capture of Fort Good Faith, and the\nimprisonment of Walter MacClaren, my friend\u2019s uncle?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cWe did not,\u201d replied Corporal Richardson. \u201cThat is news. But of course\nHenderson has made a lot of moves we know nothing of. I suppose you\u2019re\nafter help. It was nervy of you young fellows to break through\nHenderson\u2019s lines. You know he isn\u2019t letting any one in or out of the\nfar north. A man\u2019s life isn\u2019t worth a cent who isn\u2019t hand in glove with\nthe outlaw. I\u2019m detailed to scout the trail to Mackenzie\u2019s Landing\u2014clear\nthings up there if possible. I wish I could go with you fellows, but\nyou\u2019ll have to go on alone and talk to the Inspector. I doubt if you get\nhelp right away. Every officer is out on the trail now, except the bare\nfew that guard the post. It looks like reserves might be called out in\nspite of the fact that we don\u2019t like to do it.\u201d\n\u201cThen you think we may even have to go on to Fort Good Faith alone?\u201d\nDick spoke concernedly.\n\u201cOh, no, but you may have to wait for a constable.\u201d\n\u201cBut we can\u2019t wait!\u201d Dick cried desperately. \u201cWe\u2019ve been delayed a week\nas it is. Sandy\u2019s uncle must have help.\u201d\nCorporal Richardson sympathized with them, but he said he would not\nbuild up false hopes. \u201cI suggest you ask the Inspector for a special\ndeputization. In times like these every man will be forced into the\nservice who isn\u2019t an enemy of the crown.\u201d\nDick and Sandy thrilled at this possibility. To think of being for even\na brief period a member of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police was almost\nbeyond their dreams.\n\u201cI\u2019ll have to be mushing,\u201d announced the policeman. \u201cToo bad you lost\nyour dogs. I passed a team about ten miles back. I thought the driver\nlooked rather sneaky. It\u2019s pretty hard to describe ordinary huskies. All\nI remember unusual about the team was that the leader, an exceptionally\nbig fellow, limped with his left forefoot. Not much, just a little.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s our team, sure enough!\u201d Dick cried. \u201cRemember, Sandy, how that\nleader limped?\u201d\n\u201cI wish we could catch up with the fellow,\u201d Sandy gritted.\n\u201cIt\u2019s too late now,\u201d Corporal Richardson shook his head. \u201cI wish I could\nsplit my team with you, but you see I\u2019ve only four and with two I\u2019d be\nslowed up considerably. What you\u2019d better do is leave your sled, and\ntake what you need by shoulder pack. If\u2014\u2014\u201d\nCorporal Richardson did not finish the sentence. He seemed to start, and\nhis eyes widened. His hand flew to his chest. Across the snow came the\nringing crack of a distant rifle. The mounted policeman dropped upon one\nelbow, as his startled companions hastened to him.\nDick shook his fist at the hills in the direction the shot seemed to\nhave come from.\n\u201cI guess I\u2019m hit pretty bad,\u201d the corporal revived and whispered. Toma\nhad thrown up the sled as a sort of barricade, if any more shots were\nfired, and Dick and Sandy commenced administering first aid to the\nwounded policeman. The bullet had struck under the shoulder blade at the\nback, and had come out the right side.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a nasty wound,\u201d Dick said grimly\u2014\u201cmaybe a lung is touched.\u201d\n\u201cRather lucky for you fellows at that,\u201d the corporal smiled gamely. \u201cNow\nyou can use my dog team to tote me back to the fort.\u201d\n\u201cDo you have any idea who shot you?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cOne of Henderson\u2019s men without a doubt,\u201d was the faint reply, \u201cthe\ncountry\u2019s alive with them. But we\u2019ll beat \u2019em yet.\u201d\nDick grimly agreed with him.\nStrangely enough, no more shots were fired. Dick judged the reason for\nthis was that a single man had attacked them and had lost courage after\nseeing he had drawn blood in a party too strong for him. Yet he could\nnot be sure. At any moment they might expect the sharpshooter lurking in\nthe wooded hills to drop one of them. If they were to move on to the\nfort they could not remain sheltered from attack.\nThe limp body of the corporal was speedily transferred to his sled,\nafter some of the packs had been thrown aside. Dick picked up the\ngee-pole, Toma took the lead, and Sandy cracked the long whip.\n\u201cMush!\u201d\nThey were off, the dogs yelping eagerly down the back trail, overjoyed\nat hitting the home trail so soon.\nFor nearly an hour they advanced at a fast rate of speed, Sandy and Dick\nchanging off advance guard with Toma. Then they entered a long ravine,\ncrested with spruce and jackpine. As yet no sign of the man who had shot\nthe corporal appeared. Then, without warning, from the brow of the\nravine, puffed the smoke of a rifle. A bullet fanned Dick\u2019s cheek, and\nhe paused and fired at the distant smoke at the top of the ravine.\n\u201cMush! Mush!\u201d shouted Sandy to the dogs, cracking the long whip.\nThe dogs responded nobly, drawing the sled, carrying the wounded\nofficer, so fast that the boys could hardly keep up.\nAgain the hidden rifle cracked from the top of the ravine. This time one\ndog gave a sharp yelp, leaped into the air and fell kicking his last in\na tangle of harness.\n\u201cHe\u2019s killed a dog!\u201d cried Dick angrily. \u201cQuick, get him out of the\nharness so we can go on.\u201d\nThe three remaining huskies were growling and snarling in a mess, and it\nwas some minutes before Sandy and Toma could straighten them out, cut\nthe dead dog from his harness and start on again. Meanwhile Dick emptied\nhis rifle at the brow of the ravine, taking a chance on hitting whoever\nwas skulking there with such deadly intent.\nOn their way again, the fast moving sled proved an elusive target for\nthe sharpshooter. He shot three times without effect. Swiftly they\nneared a point where the ravine widened out into a low walled valley,\nwhich was almost barren of vegetation. Once on this clear space they\nwould be safe, for there was no cover within rifle range for the man who\nwas dogging them.\nDick and Sandy were almost on the point of giving a shout of triumph\nwhen the hidden rifle cracked again and another dog dropped in the\nharness. The sled stopped, and once more the excited dogs got themselves\nin a bad mix-up. At the mercy of the mysterious and deadly rifle, the\nboys attacked the tangled harness and dogs.\nScarcely had they cut loose the fallen dog when the rifle sounded again\nand the lead dog dropped to his haunches, failing to rise again. Dick\nput the dog out of misery with a shot from his rifle, then turned to\nToma and Sandy.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to get that fellow out of his nest. He\u2019s playing with us. As\nsoon as he finishes with the dogs he\u2019ll start in on us. We might as well\ndie fighting. Follow me.\u201d Dick wheeled and started up the hill, firing\nhis rifle as he went, Sandy and Toma not far behind.\nThe man on the rim of the ravine seemed taken by surprise. His shots\nwent wild. Only one came close, and that tore through Sandy\u2019s mackinaw.\nShouting at the top of their voices, the boys reached the top of the\nravine. A running figure was just disappearing over a knoll ahead of\nthem. Dick paused a moment, levelled his rifle and fired quickly. The\nfigure, some hundred yards distant, leaped high, as if hit, and ran on\nlimping. Toma and Sandy also fired, but did not hit. They ran on after\nthe man a little way, then fearing to leave the wounded officer too long\nalone, they hurried back, certain they had routed the sharpshooter.\n\u201cWe\u2019re lucky,\u201d Dick said, as they trotted down the slope of the ravine,\n\u201c\u2014not a scratch and he was sure shooting close.\u201d\n\u201cI kind of wish I was in Corporal Richardson\u2019s place when I think of\ngoing on with one dog,\u201d Sandy changed the subject, making light of his\nnarrow escape. \u201cMeans we\u2019ve got to buckle into the harness again.\u201d\nToma paused as they reached the sled. They could see him looking up at\nthe sky.\n\u201cHeap snow come soon,\u201d the imperturbable weather prophet announced.\n\u201cMake um wolves hungry.\u201d\nDick and Sandy did not think seriously of Toma\u2019s prophecy, for they were\nintent on the hard work ahead, and already were stepping into the places\nvacated by the dead dogs.\nAgain they toiled out on the trail to Fort Dunwoody, hauling the wounded\nman, who was muttering to himself now in a delirious state brought on by\nrising fever.\nIn an hour it had begun to snow, but the boys kept on. Thicker and\nthicker fell the soft, white flakes, until they could see no more than\ntwenty feet ahead. It was a wet snow, and made pulling the sled harder\nthan ever. The runners seemed to drag like lead upon the aching\nshoulders of the three. They were glad when darkness fell and they were\nforced to camp.\n\u201cWe\u2019re in for an all-night snow storm, I guess,\u201d Dick observed, as the\nfire he was trying to start went out for a third time, and he had to\nenlist the aid of Toma.\n\u201cI\u2019d like to sleep for a week,\u201d said Sandy, from where he was trying to\nmake the wounded officer more comfortable. \u201cThat falling snow is just\nlike a bedtime story that really does put a fellow to sleep.\u201d\nThey rolled into their sleeping bags as soon as they had appeased their\nappetites, not troubling to keep watch. All night the snow fell, and in\nthe morning they awakened almost smothered with the wet drifts. The\nworld was all fresh and white like a new blanket, but they had not taken\nten steps before they knew they would make little progress that day.\n\u201cIf a crust would only freeze over the snow we could get along faster,\u201d\nDick bewailed.\nCorporal Richardson seemed a little better after the night\u2019s rest. His\nfever had gone down and an examination of the wound showed it to be\ncoming along as well as could be expected. He was very weak, however,\nfrom loss of blood.\n\u201cWhere are we?\u201d the officer asked Dick.\n\u201cAbout fifty miles north of Fort Dunwoody with only one dog,\u201d Dick\nreplied. \u201cYou were unconscious yesterday during the scrap we had with\nthe same fellow who hit you.\u201d\n\u201cYes, I seemed to have had delirium,\u201d replied the corporal. \u201cI imagined\nI heard shooting.\u201d\n\u201cWell, you didn\u2019t need your imagination to hear that yesterday,\u201d Dick\nassured him.\n\u201cIt\u2019ll be a wonder if you get through,\u201d the officer said, \u201cbetter leave\nme along the trail somewhere. There\u2019s an abandoned cabin a few miles\nthis side of Badge Lake. You\u2019ll strike it if you follow the long ridge.\nPut me off there with some grub and then have Inspector Dawson send a\nman out after me.\u201d\n\u201cNo, we couldn\u2019t do anything like that,\u201d Dick returned firmly. \u201cIn your\ncondition you need medical care as soon as you can get it. As long as we\ncan stand you\u2019re going to stay on this sled.\u201d\nAs if to bear out Dick\u2019s words, the officer fainted dead away.\nAlarmed, Dick put a cup of melted snow to the pale lips. The corporal\nhad just aroused enough to drink when a sound from across the snow\nstartled Dick so that he spilled the water.\n\u201cListen to that!\u201d ejaculated Sandy.\n\u201cI heard it,\u201d Dick replied.\nLong, weird, mournful, the howl of a wolf rose and fell in the distance.\nIt was the hunger cry of the most savage denizen of the northland wilds.\nDeep snow had made hunting hard for the wolves, and they were beginning\nto take notice of the man prey of the land.\n\u201cHim hungry,\u201d grunted Toma.\nThey set off on the trail once more. A half mile they struggled along\nwith the sled, when another wolf howled from a different quarter. This\ntime the cry was answered.\n\u201cWolves come together for big hunt,\u201d Toma explained, with his usual\nabsence of emotion.\n\u201cHere\u2019s hoping they don\u2019t pick on us,\u201d Sandy remarked.\nDick was silent. His face was haggard. The troubles of the trail were\nweighing heavily on his sturdy shoulders, and this new danger of the\nnorthland taxed his courage to the utmost. Yet he did not falter.\nInstead, his words were cheerful, though they came from drawn lips.\n\u201cI guess we have a few shots left in our rifles,\u201d said Dick meaningly.\n\u201cThose wolves better not come too close.\u201d\n\u201cFew shots is right,\u201d Sandy came back dishearteningly. \u201cDick, do you\nknow we have only about ten shots left for each of the rifles? And we\nhad the hard luck to unload Corporal Richardson\u2019s ammunition when we put\nhim on the sled. All he has is a belt full of revolver cartridges.\u201d\nDick\u2019s hands clenched on the strap with which he was helping pull the\nsled. \u201cMakes no difference, Sandy. After we\u2019ve escaped all these human\nwolves that have been after us, I guess we can handle the animals all\nright.\u201d But he was not quite so sure as he tried to make Sandy believe.\n\u201cWolves eat um dead dogs back trail,\u201d Toma called from the rear of the\nsled, where he was following up after a stiff job of breaking trail.\nAll afternoon the cries of the gathering pack could be heard, now near,\nnow far. Once it seemed they were all around them. Then the boys\nredoubled their efforts on the heavy sled.\n\u201cWe ought to pull into that cabin the corporal mentioned before long,\u201d\nDick said worriedly, as he changed places with Sandy.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know about that,\u201d Sandy replied. \u201cThe corporal was probably\nestimating the distance if we made time with a good dog team\u2014but we\nhaven\u2019t gone more than five miles today.\u201d\nThey made no stop for a mid-day meal, chewing raw bacon while toiling on\nthe trail. The fear of the wolves had entered their hearts yet they\nwould not let one another feel that fear by any spoken word.\nNear nightfall they were certain the wolves were trailing them, and they\ncould not hide it from one another. Far in the rear they could hear the\nhunting cry of the pack, and it was blood-curdling.\nWhile the sun still shone over the western skyline, the first of the\nwolf pack appeared behind, and the boys knew that they were in for\ntrouble.\nThe leader of the wolves was old and wise. For a time he held the pack\nof nearly thirty gaunt, gray wolves out of rifle range, waiting for\ndark. But hunger could not be denied. The less wise of the pack forged\nahead, and the rifles of the three boys spoke with deadly effect.\nDick\u2019s toll was three wolves before he emptied his magazine. Sandy shot\none and thought he had killed another, but the animal seemed only\nstunned, and after a minute leaped up and came on again at a swinging\nlope, to be dropped by a shot from Dick, who had reloaded.\nToma did not fire, however. Instead, without any orders from Dick or\nSandy, he made camp in a patch of scrub pine and spruce, where there was\nplenty of dead wood. Speedily he made a fire. When Dick and Sandy had\nexhausted their ammunition, and had gone for Corporal Richardson\u2019s\nrevolver, a huge fire was roaring and crackling before the upturned\nsled, in whose shelter rested the corporal.\nThe wolves had drawn off out of gunshot now. Some of them were devouring\ntheir comrades that had fallen. When darkness crept over the little camp\nthe wolves had completely surrounded it.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to save our cartridges,\u201d Dick said at last. \u201cToma, how many\nhave you left?\u201d\n\u201cJust gun full up,\u201d replied Toma, which meant he had the magazine of his\nrepeater full\u2014eight shots.\nDick was fingering Corporal Richardson\u2019s revolver. He was unaccustomed\nto handling a revolver and comprehended he could do little real damage\nwith the small arm, having always used a rifle. Sandy was no better than\nhe, and when Dick asked Toma if he could shoot with a revolver with\naccuracy, the guide shook his head.\n\u201cThey\u2019re slinking around us in a circle now,\u201d Sandy reported fearfully,\nas the shadows deepened.\nAs he had said, now and again a dark, sinister form glided across the\nsnow from shrub to shrub, skirting the firelight. Here and there, one of\nthe pack sat on his haunches, his beady eyes fixed on the camp, while\nhis mouth slavered. Frequently one of the number raised his nose to the\nsky and sounded the hunger howl.\nThe wolves feared the campfire, and Toma explained that as long as they\ncould keep the fire going they need not fear any very dangerous attack.\nAnd even if the wolves did rush them they could be repelled by fire\nbrands.\n\u201cI\u2019m going to see what they do when I throw fire,\u201d Dick said presently.\nHe picked out the nearest shadowy form, and drawing a flaming stick from\nthe fire, threw it at the wolf. His aim was good and the animal snarled\nhorribly as the fire fell within a few feet of its feet.\nIt was close to midnight when Toma confided to Dick and Sandy what they\nboth feared. The wolves were gaining in number as wanderers joined the\npack surrounding them. The places of those they had killed earlier in\nthe day, and the few they had managed to pick off after dark were being\nfilled by other ravenous beasts.\nThere would be no sleep in the camp that night.\nToma had cut a huge stack of wood, and it was well he did, for the\nmoment the fire died down the wolves drew closer. In fact they seemed to\ntaunt the boys into using the last of their ammunition in firing at the\ndifficult targets they made.\nThe one dog was whimpering with fear and cowering under the legs of his\nmasters in abject fear. Sometimes, however, a low whine sounded among\nthe wolves, at which the husky pricked up his ears and did not seem so\nfrightened. Toma tied the dog to the sled with a thong of moose-hide.\nAs the night wore away, Dick and Sandy risked shot after shot at the\nwolves, and now and again they dropped a skulking shadow. But usually\nthey missed, since Toma objected to giving up his rifle, and they were\nforced to use the corporal\u2019s revolver.\n\u201cHow long do you suppose we can hold out?\u201d Sandy asked in a strained\nvoice.\n\u201cI see no reason why we can\u2019t hold out until they leave,\u201d Dick replied\nwith more confidence than he felt. \u201cWe\u2019ve plenty of firewood. As long as\nwe have fire to fight with we\u2019re safe.\u201d\n\u201cHow do we know they\u2019ll leave?\u201d Sandy wanted to know.\nDick shuddered a little, and did not answer. He saw a gray shape loom up\nat the edge of the firelight, and raising the revolver, fired quickly.\nHe gave a cry of satisfaction as he saw the gaunt beast leap into the\nair and fall, kicking its last.\nThere followed a rush of hungry wolves for their fallen companion.\nHorrified, the boys watched the dead wolf torn to pieces by the pack.\nDick emptied his revolver into the writhing mass. He could not help but\nhit, and he killed another wolf, wounding two others, which the pack\nfinished.\nSandy began throwing burning brands at the wolves, and they drew off\nonce more into the darkness, where they paced nervously back and forth,\ngrowling and snarling.\nThe boys decided that one of them should try to sleep while the other\ntwo watched. Dick arranged three twigs in one hand for Sandy and Toma to\ndraw from. The one with the shortest twig, after the draw, was to be the\nlucky one. Sandy drew the shortest. But after a half hour of futile\ntossing about, he gave it up.\n\u201cNo use,\u201d Sandy joined the haggard watchers at the fire. \u201cOne of you\nfellows try it. I couldn\u2019t sleep in a million years with those devils\nout there waiting to gobble me up.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t think I can either,\u201d said Dick. \u201cToma, you\u2019d better try it. One\nof us had better get some rest.\u201d\nThe guide grunted assent, and rolled into his sleeping bag, which once\nhad been his brother\u2019s. In a few minutes Toma was breathing steadily in\nsound slumber. His calmness gave the boys courage.\n\u201cIf he can sleep I guess we hadn\u2019t ought to feel so nervous,\u201d Sandy\nobserved.\n\u201cI\u2019ve heard old sourdoughs say an Indian never lets the nearness of\ndeath trouble him when he can\u2019t get away from it,\u201d Dick related, trying\nto get his own mind and Sandy\u2019s off their perilous predicament.\n\u201cWell, I wish I was an Indian then,\u201d Sandy sighed, \u201c\u2014for the present\nanyway.\u201d\nThe renewed and increased restlessness of their dog attracted their\nattention then, and they watched him straining at the moosehide leash.\nDick caught the dog trying to chew through the thong and spoke sharply.\n\u201cFunny why he wants to get away,\u201d Dick mused aloud. \u201cOne would think the\ndog would realize his danger and want to stay near the fire.\u201d\nCorporal Richardson\u2019s voice sounded from his blankets. The officer had\nawakened and had overheard Dick\u2019s remark.\n\u201cThere\u2019s a female wolf out there\u2014several of them,\u201d the veteran\nnortherner answered Dick. \u201cShe\u2019s calling to the dog. It\u2019s the mate call\nof the wolf and the dog understands it. But only the wisest of\nshe-wolves understand how to use the call to lure meat for their\nstomachs. That dog wouldn\u2019t last three minutes once he left the fire.\u201d\n\u201cHow do you feel now?\u201d Dick asked, going to the wounded man\u2019s side.\n\u201cMuch better,\u201d answered the officer, \u201cbut my side is stiff and mighty\nsore. I\u2019ll be flat on my back for a couple of weeks yet. Couldn\u2019t be\nworse luck now that the Inspector needs every man of us.\u201d\n\u201cThen you really think we have a good chance escaping from the wolf\npack?\u201d Dick eagerly seized at a grain of encouragement.\nThe corporal did not answer immediately. \u201cYou\u2019d have a lot bigger chance\nif you left me here in the morning,\u201d said the corporal steadily.\n\u201cLeave you here!\u201d Dick exclaimed. \u201cWhat do you think we are\u2014cowards?\u201d\n\u201cI should say not, Dick Kent,\u201d replied the policeman. \u201cBut that doesn\u2019t\nmake me any less a burden. With this wolf pack surrounding you you\u2019ll do\nwell to get away from camp at all, say nothing of hauling me along.\u201d\n\u201cBut we\u2019re with you anyway,\u201d Dick concluded decisively.\n\u201cOh, well,\u201d the officer turned a little, stifling a groan at the\nmovement, \u201cthe wolves may scare up moose or caribou before morning. If\nthey do they\u2019ll soon leave us alone.\u201d\nThe conversation had weakened the corporal, and Dick soon left him to\nrest, joining Sandy. The boys discussed the situation, listening to the\nfearful howls of the wolves, hoping against hope that as Corporal\nRichardson had said, they might find other game before morning.\nAfter two hours of sound slumber, Toma quietly arose and joined the two\nat the fireside. He said little, but set to work cutting down more wood,\nand breaking it up into firewood lengths.\nMorning dawned, cold and gray. Dick and Sandy were worn from loss of\nsleep. Silently they waited for the wolves to depart. But with the sun\nan hour high the pack still circled the camp, tongues lolling, jaws\nslavering.\n\u201cWill they never leave!\u201d Sandy\u2019s voice faltered.\n\u201cWolf much hungry!\u201d Toma grunted. \u201cMaybe um leave, we start. Sometime\nthey do.\u201d He looked at Dick to see what he thought.\nDick surveyed the menacing circle of wolves. They had grown bolder as\ntheir hunger increased. Could they hitch up the dog and break out of\nthat circle of death?\n\u201cIf you think we have a chance to get out of here, Toma, we\u2019ll try it,\u201d\nDick grimly returned a moment later. \u201cAnything but this suspense suits\nme.\u201d\nAs the boys packed up the wolves grew more uneasy and shifted closer.\nToma scarcely could manage the husky as he hitched it to the sled. The\nyoung guide held his rifle in one hand, working at a disadvantage so\nthat he might be prepared to shoot at a moment\u2019s notice. Toma\u2019s was the\nonly rifle left in which there was ammunition, and Dick had shot away\nall the revolver cartridges during the night.\nIt was with many misgivings that a few minutes later they took their\nplaces for the dash through the wolves.\nToma took the lead, with the rifle, Sandy held the dog, while Dick took\nup the rear, swinging the camp axe.\nSlowly, in grim silence, they pulled away from the fire.\nA hundred feet away they discovered they never would get through the\ncircle. For, instead of retreating, the wolves dashed this way and that,\nthen rushed them in a body. Sandy\u2019s cry of terror was drowned by the\ncrack of Toma\u2019s rifle and Dick\u2019s hoarse shout:\n\u201cBack to the fire! We can\u2019t make it!\u201d\nThen Toma\u2019s rifle was empty, and with clubbed rifle and axe they were\nleft to fight their way back to the campfire. Slashing with razor fangs,\nthe wolves leaped in and out. Dick wrought havoc with the axe, and Toma\nploughed his way through the snarling, writhing mass like a Hercules.\nWhen the guide broke through he ran to the fire and commenced throwing\ncoals and burning sticks with his mittens, until the air was filled with\nflying embers. Howls of pain followed as the hot coals burned the\nwolves. The scent of singed hair and burning flesh arose.\nAt last the wolves drew off reluctantly, leaving behind them a trail of\nwounded and dying. In the repulsion of the attack the boys had slain\nnine wolves and wounded seven. They could see the hairy bodies of the\ndead lying scattered all the way from where the fight had begun.\n\u201cWood not last much longer,\u201d Toma\u2019s voice startled Dick.\nDick hastily inspected the patch of wood in which they had camped. As\nToma had said, they soon would be out of firewood. And the nearest wood\nwas three hundred yards away\u2014outside the circle of death.\nDick and Sandy shuddered; Corporal Richardson stirred and moaned; Toma\nbegan quietly gathering the chips and twigs; half buried in the snow.\nSitting by the fire, conscious presently of a light step at his side and\na friendly hand on his shoulder, Dick turned and looked up into Sandy\u2019s\nface, as his chum spoke in a voice husky with emotion.\n\u201cI guess we\u2019ve about played our last card,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cRight now it\ndoesn\u2019t look as if Fort Dunwoody was very close, does it?\u201d\n\u201cNo, not very close,\u201d Dick was obliged to answer, as his tired eyes\nswept the narrowing circle of timber wolves.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve done the best we could anyway,\u201d Sandy went on dejectedly. \u201cI\nguess my Uncle Walter won\u2019t receive a whole lot of help from us.\u201d\n\u201cSandy, I used to think you were an optimist,\u201d declared Dick, \u201cbut now I\nknow you\u2019re a born pessimist. Why don\u2019t you try to cheer up?\u201d\nSandy glanced about at the wolves. A scowl puckered his usually placid\nbrow. \u201cCan\u2019t be very cheerful with those fellows waiting for us,\u201d he\nsaid shortly. \u201cDo you know I sometimes think that big one with the\nshaggy head actually grins at me? If he thinks he\u2019s going to pick a\nwhole lot of meat off my bones he\u2019s badly mistaken.\u201d\nDick grinned in spite of himself. \u201cExactly what do you mean, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m a whole lot thinner than I was. Toma would make better\neating.\u201d\nAt this juncture, Toma, who had been cutting what little wood remained,\nstrode forward with an almost excited look on his face. \u201cI know what do\nnow,\u201d he announced. \u201cWe no got firewood; plenty over by trees.\u201d\n\u201cWe know that,\u201d Sandy responded impatiently, \u201cbut we\u2019re a long ways from\nbeing over there.\u201d\n\u201cMe ketch um good idea. No can go to wood with wolves there. We move\nfire to wood; move um little at time, one feet, two feet\u2014bye and bye we\nget there\u2014mebbe by night we travel fast.\u201d\nToma was right. At nightfall they had accomplished the unusual feat of\nmoving the fire to another patch of wood. And with the first snarling\napproach of the ravenous wolves a replenished fire sprang up to beat\nthem back. The boys, in exuberance, piled more and more wood on the fire\nuntil it leaped five feet into the still, frosty air, and grew so hot it\nmelted a circle of snow about it.\nDick breathed a sigh of satisfaction as he crawled into his blankets\nhours later. It had been decided that Sandy was to stand first watch\nwith Toma. Tonight, Dick decided grimly, he would make the most of the\nhours allotted him for sleep. He intended to follow Toma\u2019s example and\nforget everything in the complete relaxation of weary mind and muscles.\n\u201cGot to fight this thing through,\u201d he reminded himself, stretching his\nlong legs out before the campfire and composing himself for sleep. A few\nminutes later, while watching Sandy nervously pacing to and fro, he\nforgot all his troubles in a happy loss of consciousness that carried\nhim away to a land where wolves, blizzards and scar faced Indians did\nnot once trouble him.\nHe was awakened by Toma shaking him by the shoulder. \u201cBig wolf eat you\nup if sleep like that,\u201d declared the young guide goodnaturedly.\nDick jumped up, once more mentally alert, and shortly piled more wood on\nthe fire, commencing his lonely vigil. He scanned the fringe of the\nfirelight for the skulking shapes, which had become so dreadfully\nfamiliar, but he could see none\u2014not a single prowling form anywhere. He\ndecided that the wolves had moved further back from the fire. Several\ntimes he believed he heard a deep-throated snarl, but he was not sure.\n\u201cI hope they\u2019re gone,\u201d he breathed fervently, \u201cso that we can continue\non our way to Fort Dunwoody. We\u2019ve lost too much time already.\u201d\nOff to his right a faint glow suffused the east. In another hour, if the\nwolves really were gone, they might continue their slow progress, and,\nbarring emergencies, might reasonably expect to arrive at the mounted\npolice barracks in about three days.\nWith the first grin in hours brightening his face, Dick set about\npreparing breakfast. He had a frying pan over the fire and was melting\nsnow for coffee. It was so quiet around him that he imagined he could\nhear the low, irregular breathing of Corporal Richardson. Then,\npresently Toma stirred, stretched out one arm and yawned:\n\u201cGuess I get up,\u201d the guide announced.\n\u201cWhen you do,\u201d Dick replied, \u201cI wish you\u2019d go over and wake Sandy. I\u2019ve\nkept his watch for him, and if I wasn\u2019t so busy getting breakfast I\u2019d go\nover myself.\u201d\nDick was adding coffee to the boiling water when Toma returned.\n\u201cWell, did you wake him?\u201d\nThe half breed endeavored to speak, but no sound came from his trembling\nlips.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d Dick inquired, trying to be calm.\n\u201cSandy, him gone!\u201d\n\u201cGone!\u201d Dick\u2019s heart took a sickening plunge.\nThe light was strong enough now so that they could see that the wolves\nwere gone, but this happy discovery was not so encouraging with the\ndisappearance of Sandy.\nHorrified at first, at the thought that Sandy must have been eaten by\nthe wolves, Dick and Toma began a minute search of the vicinity. They\nfound tracks, but no sign of Sandy. If the departed wolves had slain\nDick\u2019s chum there would have been traces left, at least bits of\nclothing.\n                    THE MAN FROM CROOKED STICK RIVER\nIf, as Dick suspected possible, Pierre Govereau had overtaken them again\nand somehow made off with Sandy, what then could they do? Corporal\nRichardson must go on to the post at all hazards. The infection in the\nofficer\u2019s wound would kill him unless medical aid were procured soon.\nYet Dick could not leave without knowing what had happened to Sandy, and\nmaking a sincere effort to find his chum. And in that strange country he\ncould not find his way without the aid of Toma.\n\u201cI\u2019ve a good idea what might have happened to Sandy,\u201d Dick mused aloud a\nlittle later.\n\u201cWhat you say?\u201d Toma eagerly asked.\n\u201cHe\u2019s walked in his sleep two or three times in his life that I know\nabout, and last night he must have done it again. Now I\u2019m sure he left\nthe fire after the wolves were gone. If he did then he might have fallen\ninto Govereau\u2019s hands.\u201d Dick strode back and forth in the snow, almost\nbeside himself.\n\u201cOh! if some friend would only come along on the way to Fort Dunwoody,\u201d\nDick exclaimed aloud.\n\u201cWe take um sick fella to cabin,\u201d Toma suggested. \u201cWe leave um there\nwhen go look for Sandy.\u201d\nAt his wit\u2019s end Toma\u2019s suggestion seemed the only way out. Dick felt\nhis duty to Sandy even greater than that to the minion of the northland\nlaw, and he would not exactly be deserting the policeman if he left him\nwith food and firewood.\n\u201cThat\u2019s the thing to do,\u201d Corporal Richardson spoke up from his\nblankets. \u201cThe Indian has it right. The cabin is between six and eight\nmiles from here. You can take me there and come back and take up young\nMcClaren\u2019s trail.\u201d\nDick was glad to hear the officer\u2019s voice, and to learn that he was once\nmore rational, with abated fever.\n\u201cIf it\u2019s all right with you, corporal, that\u2019s what we\u2019ll do. Toma, let\u2019s\nhurry.\u201d\nIn a few minutes the camp where they had been held up a day and two\nnights had been deserted and out across the vast, endless expanse of\nsnow, Toma and Dick toiled in the dog traces, dragging the wounded\npoliceman.\nThey had gone some two miles and were resting when suddenly they were\nstartled by the sound of a dog driver\u2019s voice from over the knoll they\nhad just coasted down. Was it friend or enemy? Dick prayed it was a\nfriend as he hurried to the top of the little hill and looked.\nA team of eight dogs, followed by a lone man, swinging a long whip, was\ncoming along the trail they had made in the snow. Dick waited till the\nman had come a little nearer. Then he revealed himself. The man saw him\nalmost immediately, and drew his dog team to a slower pace. The stranger\nseemed suspicious as to Dick\u2019s identity, but the evident distress of the\nyoung man on the hill reassured him. He came on to within hailing\ndistance, and stopped his team, raising his rifle.\n\u201cIf you\u2019re one of that Henderson gang,\u201d called the man threateningly,\n\u201cI\u2019ll plug you where you stand.\u201d\nDick breathed a sigh of relief. \u201cWe\u2019re bound for Fort Dunwoody,\u201d he\nreplied. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a wounded policeman on our sled and have only one\ndog.\u201d\nSatisfied that Dick was telling the truth, the shouted to his dogs and\ncame on. A moment later he joined Dick and Toma alongside the sled.\n\u201cBy gar, I tink I never get out of dat country.\u201d the newcomer, appearing\nto be a French-Indian, mopped his brow. \u201cThat Pierre Govereau one tough\ncustomer. Yah!\u201d\n\u201cYou came in a nick of time,\u201d Dick returned.\n\u201cOne of our party has disappeared, we think he\u2019s been captured. Now\nwe\u2019re trying to get a wounded policeman to a place of safety while I and\nmy guide take a look for my chum. My name\u2019s Dick Kent,\u201d he held out his\nhand.\n\u201cMe, I\u2019m Gaston Leroi,\u201d announced the stranger, shaking with French\nwarmth, \u201cthat Henderson\u2019s man Govereau kill my partner up on Crooked\nStick River. I get away pretty lucky.\u201d\n\u201cAnd it\u2019s lucky for us you got away,\u201d Dick replied with spirit. He\nstepped to the sled and stopped over the wounded officer. \u201cCorporal\nRichardson, here\u2019s a man who can help us out,\u201d Dick told the officer.\n\u201cThank God,\u201d murmured the policeman. \u201cWhat\u2019s his name?\u201d\n\u201cGaston Leroi.\u201d\n\u201cGaston Leroi!\u201d exclaimed the corporal with more strength in his voice\nthan had been there for hours. \u201cNot the trapper Leroi. Hey! Bring him\naround where I can see him.\u201d\nAt the sound of the wounded man\u2019s voice the French trapper had leaped\nforward where he could see the officer\u2019s face.\n\u201cBy gar!\u201d exclaimed Leroi. \u201cGeorge Richardson! What them fellers do to\nyou, George?\u201d\nDick was overjoyed to discover the men were old friends.\n\u201cGaston, you won\u2019t mind doing something for me?\u201d he heard the corporal\nsaying.\n\u201cSacre diable! Do I mind!\u201d Gaston exclaimed.\n\u201cIt\u2019s like this,\u201d the corporal went on, \u201cthese young fellows want to go\nback and look for their partner, but they won\u2019t leave me. Could you haul\nme to the fort?\u201d\nThe trapper vociferously expressed his willingness to do this for his\nfriend, Constable Richardson.\n\u201cThey\u2019re out of ammunition too,\u201d revealed the corporal. \u201cJust had a long\nfight with a pack of hungry wolves. Can you spare some ammunition,\nGaston?\u201d\n\u201cWhat kind of gun you got?\u201d the trapper turned to Dick.\n\u201cRoss 30.30,\u201d Dick replied anxiously.\nLeroi\u2019s face fell. He turned to Toma.\n\u201cI got um 45.70 Winchester,\u201d Toma anticipated the trapper\u2019s question.\n\u201cMe, I use 45.70!\u201d Gaston Leroi exclaimed with pleasure and turned back\nto Dick, saying: \u201cI use revolver. Like heem better dan rifle. I take\nyour gun. You take mine. Huh?\u201d\n\u201cSuits me,\u201d replied Dick gratefully.\nLeroi dived into his packs and soon brought out several boxes of\nammunition, with which Dick and Toma filled their pockets.\nA half hour later Dick and Toma bid goodbye to Gaston Leroi, and watched\nhis dog team, hauling the wounded corporal, disappear over a long hill.\nThen the two boys set out over the back trail at a jog trot. They were\ndetermined not to rest their heads until they had discovered what had\nbecome of Sandy.\n\u201cDo you think it was Govereau?\u201d Dick asked Toma as they hurried along.\n\u201cI not know,\u201d replied Toma, who was slightly in the lead. \u201cTracks show\nonly two fella keetch Sandy. Hope snow no more; if not we trail um\neasy.\u201d\nThey did not speak again until they had reached the scene of their\nbattle with the wolves, where they picked up the trail.\n\u201cThey\u2019re going north,\u201d Dick spoke, after studying the tracks. \u201cIt must\nbe some of Henderson\u2019s men, though it seems queer Govereau would come\nthis far south.\u201d\n\u201cThat Govereau, he bad fella; he go everywhere. No \u2019fraid anybody. Mebbe\nI see that Many Scar.\u201d\nDick fell silent at the mention of the scar faced Indian. He knew Toma\nwas thinking of his dead brother, and was planning revenge if he met the\nmurderer, who he believed to be the scar faced Indian. Dick knew nothing\nto say which would change Toma\u2019s mind in this respect, so he said\nnothing as they forged onward at a mile-eating pace.\nThey had traveled nearly ten miles into a deeply wooded vicinity, when\nthe tracks began to grow fresher, and they slowed their pace. Presently\nthey rounded a bend, and in a tiny valley, drained by a winding, frozen\ncreek, they came upon an Indian village of a dozen tepees.\nToma seemed as surprised as Dick at the discovery.\n\u201cUm war party,\u201d Toma replied immediately. \u201cNo good Injun if um fight\nWhite Father.\u201d\n\u201cHow can you tell they\u2019re a war party?\u201d inquired Dick.\n\u201cNo squaws, no papooses,\u201d replied Toma abruptly.\nAs Toma had said there were no women or children to be seen in the camp.\nAnd at different points along the fringe of trees around the clearing,\nDick made out dusky sentinels, armed with long rifles, with feathers in\ntheir beaver bonnets.\n\u201cThe tracks lead down into the village, so Sandy must be there\nsomewhere,\u201d Dick mused aloud.\nThe larger portion of the party of Indians who had thrown up their\ncaribou hide tepees in the valley, seemed to be absent. Here and there a\nwarrior squatted before a cooking fire, his rifle leaning close beside\nhim.\n\u201cLook!\u201d Dick suddenly pointed.\nA white man had come out of one of the tepees and was walking slowly\ntoward the creek.\n\u201cI see um,\u201d said Toma. \u201cGuess him one Govereau\u2019s men. Huh? Him Henderson\ngot plenty bad Indian work for him.\u201d\n\u201cThen Govereau has joined forces with these Indians,\u201d Dick\u2019s spirits\nfell. \u201cIt will be one big job getting Sandy away from him now. I wonder\nwhich tepee he is in\u2014er\u2014\u201d he was about to wonder if Sandy was alive, but\ndared not trust the words on his tongue. It was too horrible to speak\nof\u2014that Pierre Govereau had murdered his chum.\n\u201cWe wait till dark,\u201d Toma voiced the resolve of both.\nAt twilight the boys saw a large party come in from the north, in which\nthere were a number of whites. They were loaded down with furs, which\nthey probably had stolen. Dick thought he recognized the figure of the\nhalf-breed Pierre Govereau, but could not be certain at that distance.\nSlowly darkness fell and the campfires flung out flickering shadows on\nthe sloping walls of tepees and over the figures of the warriors\nsquatted around them.\n\u201cI make believe I one of them,\u201d Toma whispered presently. \u201cI go\ndown\u2014find out where Sandy is.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s an awful risk,\u201d Dick tried to object, \u201cand you aren\u2019t dressed like\nthey are.\u201d\n\u201cI fix that. You wait here\u2014no, you come down closer. Be ready to shoot,\nyou hear trouble. Jump \u2019round when you shoot. Make um think you whole\narmy. I ketch um Sandy.\u201d\nThough Dick feared Toma would come to grief, he could do nothing but let\nthe courageous young guide take the chance, hoping, if worst came to\nworst, and Toma was discovered, that he might draw the attention of the\nIndians long enough for his red friend to escape.\nToma crawled off down the slope toward the camp, Dick followed him for a\nlittle way, until he reached a heavy copse of brush where he felt he was\nwithin good rifle range of the camp. Toma went on and disappeared,\nDick\u2019s whispered wish of \u201cgood luck\u201d following him.\nAs Dick lay there waiting he could see on the side of the camp nearest\nhim, the shadowy figure of a warrior sentinel, standing motionless by a\ntree, silhouetted by the light of one of the fires. Dick raised his\nrifle and drew bead on the guard. It was this warrior who would discover\nToma, if any did, and Dick watched intently for a motion that would\nindicate the guard had seen something unusual.\nHe watched for possibly five minutes, when of a sudden another figure\narose between him and the shadowy guard. There was a swift movement of\nthe two shadows; they swayed violently, then the guard fell and the\nother stooped over him. Then both disappeared in the dark underbrush.\nDick held his breath. Toma had attacked the guard and knocked him down.\nIn a flash Dick saw Toma\u2019s plan\u2014the young Indian would change clothes\nwith the warrior and creep into the camp, casually joining the others.\nGripping his rifle, Dick awaited developments. What would happen in the\nnext hour he did not know, but he hoped for the best.\n                        A SKIRMISH IN THE NIGHT\nDick waited what seemed to him several hours, though it could not have\nbeen more than thirty minutes, before he saw a sign of Toma. Then, in\nalmost the exact position the guard had held, he saw a figure rise up\nwhich he was almost certain was Toma, though the firelight revealed that\nthe young guide now wore the clothes and head-dress of the sentinel.\n\u201cGood for you, Toma,\u201d Dick whispered. \u201cNow if you can only get in among\nthem without them recognizing that you\u2019re not really a member of their\nband.\u201d\nToma did not enter the camp from that side, however. Once more he\ndisappeared.\nA patch of brush to the left caught Dick\u2019s roving eyes, and this he\nwatched, believing Toma would take this means of getting into the camp\nwithout attracting attention, since the bushes led up to a point very\nnear one of the tepees.\nDick was right. A few minutes later the bush tops waved a little at the\npassage of a creeping body. Presently in the shadow of the tepee nearest\nthe bushes, Toma rose and walked slowly toward one of the campfires,\nwhere he joined a group. Dick feared Toma might see the scar faced\nIndian, and that the guide\u2019s desire for revenge might cause him to\ndestroy all his chances for the rescue of Sandy. But as time passed and\nall went well, Dick felt that Toma must be making good progress in the\ndangerous mission he had set out on.\nA little later Dick saw a figure, which he took to be Toma, break away\nfrom a group of natives and saunter toward one of the tepees. Evidently\nthe guide now was either looking for Sandy, or had learned the captive\u2019s\nexact position from the conversation of the warriors.\nToma stooped into the opening of the tepee and disappeared. Holding his\nbreath, Dick watched. Toma was gone some time, then in the flickering\nlight he appeared again. Would Sandy follow? Dick\u2019s heart beat\npainfully.\nThen he could not suppress a low cry of exultation as Sandy\u2019s bare head\ncame out next and the two slipped into the deep shadows of another\ntepee. For minutes they did not move, then they suddenly dashed for the\npatch of brush that had covered Toma\u2019s entrance into the camp. Dick\u2019s\nfinger tightened on the trigger.\nThere was a commotion among one of the groups about the campfires. A\nshout sounded, then a rifle shot. The Indians began to run; they had\nseen Toma and Sandy!\nDick took quick aim and fired. The crack of his rifle in the silent\nforest startled the camp. Dick shot again, hurrying to another position\nas Toma had advised. He could see that Toma and Sandy had reached cover,\nand that the guide was firing on his pursuers.\nThe whole camp was in a turmoil now; Indians and whites hurrying hither\nand thither, shooting at the flashes of Dick\u2019s rifle. He could not hear\nwhat they were shouting to each other, but he divined they thought he\nwas quite a number of men, so fast was he firing and from so many\npositions.\n\u201cI\u2019ll hurry along toward Toma and Sandy,\u201d Dick muttered to himself,\n\u201cthey\u2019ll know where I am by the sound of my rifle.\u201d\nTwenty yards further on Toma and Sandy reached him.\n\u201cThank God you\u2019re safe at last!\u201d Dick embraced Sandy, while Toma kept up\nrifle fire on the Indians and whites, who were now charging after them.\nWith a parting salvo at their pursuers, the three made off into the\nnight toward Fort Dunwoody. All night they hurried on, hungry and tired,\nyet determined to elude Govereau if they dropped in their tracks.\n\u201cHim Govereau with Indians,\u201d Toma revealed to Dick. \u201cNo see um Many-Scar\nJackson. I hear um talk much. Bear Henderson, him make north country big\nnation all his own. Give Indians back their land. Humph! Bear Henderson\ncrazy\u2014him thief, outlaw. That Govereau bad fella too; keep um police\nfrom come up from south.\u201d\nIt did not take Sandy long to tell Dick and Toma how he had been\ncaptured by two scouts of Govereau\u2019s band, who had lain in hiding,\nlooking for a chance to attack. It had been their approach and the\nappearance of a herd of caribou going south that had frightened away the\nwolves. Dick had been right in suspecting that Sandy had walked in his\nsleep. It was almost funny to hear him tell how he had awakened,\nstruggling in the hands of his captors, dreaming they were wolves\ndevouring him.\nAt dawn the travelers reached the shores of a large lake, whose snow\ncovered ice stretched for leagues and leagues ahead.\n\u201cHim Badge Lake,\u201d Toma told them. \u201cWe cross um ice, make journey\nshorter.\u201d\nThey stopped long enough to steep coffee and make some flapjacks. Dick\nand Toma had taken very few provisions with them when they left Gaston\nLeroi, and they now could see that they would have barely enough for\nanother meal.\nStill hungry, they set off across the frozen lake with many a backward\nglance to see if they were followed. But if they were, they saw no sign\nof Govereau\u2019s band. The silent forest, fading from view as they forged\nout farther and farther over the ice, disclosed no running figures on\ntheir trail.\n\u201cWe cross um lake when sun set,\u201d Toma said. \u201cMaybe see moose when other\nside. We eat then.\u201d\nIt was a long jaunt across the lake. At noon they could see the other\nshore, dim and hazy to the south. With hunger gnawing at their vitals\nthey trudged the last miles across the ice, hearing now and again, a low\nrumbling roar as the lake ice cracked open for hundreds and hundreds of\nyards. Once they were held up by one of these cracks, wider than the\nrest, which they could not leap over. They had to follow this until it\ngrew narrower. Sandy slipped when they finally jumped the crack, and\nfell into the niche. At the bottom the fissure came together, and was\npartly filled with slivers of ice. Dick and Toma pulled Sandy out on the\nend of a rifle.\nDarkness was just falling when they reached the other shore of the lake.\nIt was with groans of thankfulness that they built a fire and dropped\ndown to rest for the night.\n\u201cI\u2019m all in,\u201d Sandy sank upon his back by the fire.\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t have gone much further,\u201d Dick admitted.\nEven Toma seemed tired. They did not bother to get supper, but rolled\ninto their sleeping bags, and fell into heavy slumber, not even keeping\nwatch.\nDawn found them awake. They finished their provisions for breakfast, and\nagain took to the trail on the last lap to Fort Dunwoody. They had no\ntime to hunt, but kept watch among the trees for a ptarmigan or\npartridge, or bigger game if they ran across it. But they had bad luck\nand the entire day passed with no more than two ptarmigan to show for\ntheir pains.\nThe birds made a slender meal for the three hungry young men. Toma\nchopped out some roots that proved succulent when stewed, and they\nmanaged to fill their stomachs with this, though within an hour\nafterwards they were as hungry as ever.\nTwenty miles from Fort Dunwoody, at noon of the third day since the\nrescue of Sandy, they came abruptly upon a friendly Indian village at\nthe edge of a tiny lake.\n\u201cNow we\u2019ll eat!\u201d cried the haggard Sandy.\nAnd eat they did, in preparation for the last lap of their eventful\njourney, for they felt it would be a hard day on the trail.\n\u201cThe fort! The fort!\u201d cheered Dick, as the following evening they came\nto the edge of a vast plain.\nSandy was overjoyed, so much so that he could not speak.\nSure enough, a half mile ahead frowned the stockade of Fort Dunwoody,\nunder the rippling flag of the king. Toma did not express himself in\nwords, but hastened his tireless pace.\nDick and Sandy hurried after the guide, curiously gazing at the fort.\nAlong the top of the stockade they could see a red-coated policeman\npacing slowly back and forth.\n\u201cWho goes there?\u201d the sentry above the gate called when the worn\ntravelers appeared.\n\u201cFriends,\u201d cried Dick. \u201cWe\u2019re from Fort du Lac\u2014looking for help at Fort\nGood Faith.\u201d\n\u201cYou the lads that helped bring in Corporal Richardson?\u201d the sentry\ngruffly asked.\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nThe huge gate swung back immediately, and the young adventurers passed\nthrough. The police guard met them as the gate was closed.\n\u201cYou\u2019ll want to see Inspector Dawson?\u201d asked the guard.\n\u201cI think he\u2019s the man we should see,\u201d Dick replied.\nPresently they were ushered into the presence of Inspector Dawson, whose\ngrim face, under a thatch of iron gray hair, broke into a smile, meant\nto be kind.\nDick and Sandy gave the scout salute.\n\u201cAh, ha!\u201d said the Inspector, \u201cI see you\u2019ve been members of the Boy\nScouts.\u201d\n\u201cYes sir, first class, both of us,\u201d replied Dick, a little abashed in\nthe presence of so distinguished a man as Inspector Dawson.\n\u201cCorporal Richardson told me about you,\u201d went on the Inspector.\n\u201cThen the corporal got in all right,\u201d Dick exulted.\n\u201cYes, thanks to you boys and Gaston Leroi,\u201d Inspector Dawson said.\n\u201cHe\u2019ll be up and around in a few days now. I\u2019ve already sent relief to\nFort Good Faith,\u201d he concluded.\n\u201cOh!\u201d Dick was both glad and disappointed at once. He had hoped to join\nthe expedition.\n\u201cHowever, an Indian runner came in today saying that Sergeant Brewster\nand Constable Marden, the two I detailed for Fort Good Faith, were held\nup at Gray Goose Lake by one of Henderson\u2019s lieutenants and about thirty\nrenegade Indians. I believe the man\u2019s name is Pierre Govereau. He has a\ncriminal record here.\u201d\n\u201cGovereau!\u201d ejaculated Dick and Sandy in one voice.\n\u201cYou seem to have met him before,\u201d the Inspector continued briskly. \u201cBut\nthe point I\u2019m getting at is this; I have no men to send on as relief to\nGray Goose Lake. I expect one of my scouts, Malemute Slade, in tomorrow\nmorning from Fort du Lac where he has cleared things up.\u201d\nAt mention of Malemute Slade, Dick and Sandy exchanged significant\nglances.\n\u201cYes,\u201d the inspector continued. \u201cAnd I suppose you follows want to go on\nto Fort Good Faith. You seem to be able to take care of yourselves.\nWould you like to be special deputies?\u201d\n\u201cWould we!\u201d Dick exclaimed.\n\u201cHurrah!\u201d shouted Sandy.\nInspector Dawson could not forbear a smile at the boys\u2019 exuberance. \u201cAll\nright, step forward,\u201d he commanded, arising from his desk.\nDick and Sandy lined up like soldiers while they repeated the oath of\nallegiance to the law on specials duty for the duration of the Henderson\noutbreak.\nThe Inspector made Toma an official scout.\n\u201cNow good day, boys,\u201d the Inspector said dismissing them. \u201cReport to me\ntomorrow morning early. I expect Slade in then.\u201d\nDick and Sandy followed Toma out of headquarters seething with\nexcitement. They felt themselves full-fledged mounted policemen now,\nand, too, they were to take the trail with Malemute Slade, the famous\nscout they had met on the Big Smokey. Their only regret was that they\ncould not don the beautiful uniforms they saw everywhere about the post.\nThey inquired as to the quarters of Corporal Richardson, and had a long\nchat with the convalescent officer. They secured arrangements to pass\nthe night in the barracks, and once more toasted their shins before a\ngenuine stove.\nBright and early next morning, Dick and Sandy rolled out of their bunks\nand pulled on their clothes.\n\u201cIt hardly seems possible we\u2019re at Fort Dunwoody,\u201d Dick declared when\nthey attacked the ample breakfast set before them by the post cook.\nSandy shivered in recalling the narrow escapes they had had and agreed\nwith Dick.\nToma, who had slept before the fire on a bearskin rug, was as silent as\nhe always was when off the trail, but his moon face was split by a\ncontinuous smile.\nMalemute Slade was waiting at headquarters when the boys reported as\ninstructed. His dog team of six huge huskies stood in front of the\nInspector\u2019s office, harnessed to the sled, ready for the trail.\nDick and Sandy were pleased to find that Malemute Slade remembered them.\nHis dark, wind-hardened face lighted up pleasantly, as he shook hands\nwith his future trail mates.\n\u201cWal, I swan,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cI guess we\u2019ll do some tall fightin\u2019 now.\u201d\nDick and Sandy assured him they were with him with all they had to\noffer, and after Inspector Dawson had wished them good luck, they mushed\nacross the parade square to the stockade gate, which swung slowly open\nfor them.\nHour after hour the relief detachment from the post traveled northward.\nMalemute Slade would not permit the boys to sleep longer than five\nhours. Long before dawn they were up, had eaten a hasty breakfast, while\nthe dogs wolfed their daily frozen fish, and had hit the trail again.\nDick and Sandy had grown almost as trail hardened as Toma on their long\ntrip from Fort du Lac to Fort Dunwoody, and they did not complain at the\nterrific pace set by Malemute Slade.\nOn the afternoon of the third day, more than a hundred miles north of\nFort Dunwoody, they saw from the top of a ridge the white, level expanse\nof Gray Goose Lake. They had not been molested along the way and they\ndecided that Govereau was doing all his fighting at Gray Goose Lake.\nAround the lake they broke into rough and serrated country, through\nwhich they proceeded cautiously. Soon they heard the faint report of\nrifles, by which they located the scene of combat.\nMalemute Slade led the way up a long ravine where they left the dog team\nin charge of Toma and went on under cover of whatever they found.\n\u201cFollow me, lads, an\u2019 don\u2019t fire till I give the word,\u201d Malemute Slade\nordered.\n\u201cLook! There they are!\u201d whispered Dick a moment later as they reached\nthe top of the ravine.\nOn a rocky knoll, overlooking Gray Goose Lake, they could see the\noccasional puff of two rifles. All around the bottom of the little hill\nwere hidden Govereau\u2019s men, flanked by a deep gorge on their left.\n\u201cNow, lads, we\u2019ll take \u2019em on the run. Shoot an\u2019 holler all you can,\u201d\nMalemute Slade\u2019s drawling voice calmed them.\nDick and Sandy tensed for the coming skirmish, tightening their grips of\ntheir rifles.\n\u201cReady,\u201d called Malemute Slade. \u201cHere we go.\u201d\nThey broke from cover and ran yelling like an army across the space that\nseparated them from Govereau\u2019s party. The Indians turned and shouted,\nseeming paralyzed with surprise. The besieged policemen, on the hill,\nseeing reinforcements, also charged, leaping from their hiding place and\nfiring as they came.\nAttacked from two sides, Govereau\u2019s band broke and fled.\n\u201cThere\u2019s Govereau!\u201d cried Dick.\n\u201cAn\u2019 here\u2019s where one dirty skunk cashes in,\u201d shouted Malemute Slade,\nraising his high-powered rifle. At the report of the rifle, Govereau\nfell, Dick and Sandy rushing past his body in pursuit of the others.\nDick barely had witnessed the fall of Govereau before he caught sight of\nToma stalking an Indian, who was trying to crawl away among the bushes.\n\u201cHalt, in the king\u2019s name!\u201d commanded Dick, as he recognized the skulker\nto be no other than Many-Scar Jackson.\nBut the scar faced Indian did not halt. He broke into a run toward the\ndeep gorge on the left, Toma in hot pursuit, and Dick and Sandy close\nbehind.\nSuddenly Dick stopped dead in his tracks, Sandy almost falling over him.\n\u201cToma!\u201d he called, but the guide did not seem to hear.\n\u201cHe\u2019s going to avenge his brother\u2019s death,\u201d Sandy exclaimed, pushing\nahead.\n\u201cStop!\u201d Dick hauled his chum back. \u201cToma doesn\u2019t want us to interfere.\nIt\u2019s his fight. If we see he\u2019s getting the worst of it, then we\u2019ll\nhelp.\u201d\nSandy drew back and with pale faces they watched the two Indians come\ntogether and draw their knives in a duel to the death.\nAround and around they circled before Toma darted in like a flash and\ndrew blood. But Many-Scar made a stab in return, and they saw Toma reel\na little. Then the two clinched, staggered this way, then that, their\nknife blades locked.\n\u201cMany-Scar has him!\u201d Sandy suddenly exclaimed, raising his rifle.\n\u201cWait!\u201d Dick cried.\nFor a moment it had seemed as if the scar faced Indian would plunge his\nknife into Toma\u2019s breast, but the agile young guide twisted suddenly,\nlike a snake, and Many-Scar was tripped to his knees.\nThen as Toma leaped in to follow up his advantage, Many-Scar whirled\naway, leaped to his feet and once more they circled.\n\u201cMany-Scar is getting the worst of it,\u201d Dick breathed a few moments\nlater.\n\u201cHe sure is,\u201d agreed Sandy exultingly.\nToma\u2019s enemy plainly was weakening. Dick and Sandy prepared to see the\nfinal thrust, when of a sudden the scar faced Indian broke away and ran\nlike the wind straight toward the gorge.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll fall into the gorge!\u201d Dick cried, starting to run toward them.\nBut Many-Scar Jackson and Toma, too, seemed uncognizant of any immediate\ndanger from a fall. Many-Scar ran like a deer, and as he reached the\nedge, he leaped into the air. Like a bird he soared across the space\nbetween the two cliffs, landing safely on the other side, where he\nvanished into the bushes.\n\u201cWhat a jump!\u201d exclaimed Dick.\n\u201cI can\u2019t believe it,\u201d Sandy said amazedly. \u201cWhy, it was a broad jump\nrecord. It\u2019s nearly thirty feet between the cliffs.\u201d\nToma had halted on the brink of the cliff and the boys saw him raise\nclinched fists to the sky. Toma had failed this time, but, somehow, the\nboys felt sure there was another time coming.\nBehind them Malemute Slade was calling. They rejoined the victorious\nmounted police, Toma tardily returning.\nPresently they were behind the dogs on the trail to Fort Good Faith,\ntheir party now increased to five with Sergeant Brewster and Constable\nMarden.\n\u201cI hope Uncle Walter has been able to hold out this long,\u201d Sandy\nwhispered to himself as he ran after the waving tails of the huskies.\n                        CHIEF BLACK DOG\u2019S SCHEME\n\u201cWe\u2019re coming into an Indian village,\u201d Dick called to Sandy, when the\nparty reached the top of a long ridge.\nSandy, who was some distance in the rear, hurried up and joined Dick. A\nvillage of nearly a score of tepees lay ahead, the smoke of a number of\ncampfires rising here and there.\nSergeant Brewster, who had taken command, explained that he was about to\nenlist the tribe\u2019s aid in an effort at retaking Fort Good Faith.\n\u201cChief Black Dog is a good friend of the mounted,\u201d said Sergeant\nBrewster, \u201cand he\u2019ll let us have a few warriors. I suppose Henderson has\ntried to get the old fellow on his side, but chief is loyal.\u201d\nThey entered the village, and had some trouble with the numberless\nIndian dogs that rushed out savagely from behind the tepees and attacked\nthe huskies. Presently several Indians came and called off the dogs,\nthrowing stones and sticks at them.\nSergeant Brewster addressed one of the braves: \u201cTell Chief Black Dog a\nman from the Great White Father has come to see him.\u201d\nThe buck hurried away, and soon returned, saying the chief would be glad\nto see him, in fact had invited them all to his council tepee.\nLeaving Toma to look after the dogs, Dick and Sandy followed Malemute\nSlade and the policemen to a tepee much larger than the rest. The\nentrance was so high that even Malemute Slade entered erect.\n\u201cGosh, it\u2019s dark,\u201d whispered Sandy, when the tepee flap closed behind\nthem.\nThe only light in the tepee was a tiny fire glowing in the center.\nBefore this Dick and Sandy could make out three shadowy figures. The one\nin the center was an aged Indian with snow white hair. He was Chief\nBlack Dog.\n\u201cThe white brother comes from the Great White Father. It is good. Peace\nwith white brother,\u201d the old chief spoke.\n\u201cWe bring presents from the great chief to the big chief,\u201d Sergeant\nBrewster announced, drawing from his mackinaw pockets a fine pocket\nknife and a shining tobacco box.\nDick and Sandy could see the old chief\u2019s eyes glitter as they fell upon\nthe gifts.\n\u201cIt is good,\u201d said Chief Black Dog, accepting the presents.\nThe sergeant also gave something to each of the two chiefs seated on\neither side of Chief Black Dog, for which they muttered thanks.\n\u201cWhat will the white brother have?\u201d the chief spoke again.\n\u201cWe wish help to fight the bad outlaw, Bear Henderson,\u201d answered the\nsergeant. \u201cHe has taken Fort Good Faith from the good factor Walter\nMacClaren.\u201d\n\u201cIt is good. My warriors are brave. They go with you.\u201d\nSergeant Brewster thanked the old chief, then waited for dismissal.\nChief Black Dog sat looking into the fire for a time, his deep eyes\nmeditative. The boys watched curiously. The chief seemed to be thinking.\nAt length he spoke:\n\u201cThe red man would know how many braves the bad chief Henderson fights\nwith. Some my warriors, young and foolish, with Henderson. I send\nwarrior in night. He go make believe join Henderson. He find his\nbrothers there. He find out how many braves hold fort. Come tell me. He\nfind where big chief MacClaren in prison. We know how to fight better\nthen.\u201d\n\u201cThe red man\u2019s words are wise,\u201d replied the sergeant.\n\u201cIt is good,\u201d the chief said, turning to the chief on his left and\nspeaking swiftly in his native tongue.\nThe other chief rose and quietly left the tepee.\n\u201cWhite brother\u2019s men stay, wait for spy, when he come back. One night\nmaybe. Then we know all.\u201d He waved a withered hand in dismissal.\nDick and Sandy welcomed the open air, when once again they stepped into\nthe sunlight. At the sergeant\u2019s orders they helped Toma unharness the\ndogs.\nChief Black Dog assigned two tepees to the party from Fort Dunwoody.\nDick, Sandy and Toma took one, the mounted policemen the other. An hour\nlater the boys watched the spy leave for Fort Good Faith, while the war\ndrums of the tribe summoned the braves to battle.\nIt was an exciting evening the boys passed, watching the warriors in\ntheir fantastic dances. When at last they went to their tepee to rest,\nthey were tired, but could not sleep. The wait for news from Fort Good\nFaith was proving to be a trying one. So near Sandy\u2019s uncle, yet under\norders to remain idle, the boys chafed and worried.\n\u201cI can\u2019t stand it,\u201d Sandy cried. \u201cI want to get there and have it over\nwith.\u201d\n\u201cI know just how you feel,\u201d sympathized Dick. \u201cI want to smell powder\ntoo. But I believe the chief made a wise move, at that. What do you\nthink, Toma?\u201d\nToma\u2019s dark face, lighted by the fire, brightened. \u201cHim wise chief,\u201d\nsaid Toma. \u201cMy father know him long ago when they hunt on Saskatchewan\nRiver.\u201d\n\u201cTell us a story about the old days, Toma,\u201d Dick pleaded, as he squatted\nby the fire, \u201c\u2014an Indian story.\u201d\n\u201cYes, do,\u201d Sandy chimed in.\nThe young guide seemed to be looking far away as he stared into the\nglowing coals. Outside, the war drums and the cries of the dancing\nwarriors echoed in the forest aisles.\n\u201cI tell story my father tell me long ago, when I little boy,\u201d Toma\nbegan. \u201cBig medicine man tell my father. It is story of Saskatchewan\nRiver and Great Bear, mighty hunter of the Crees.\n\u201cLong ago, by Saskatchewan live big tribe. One hunter, one Great Bear,\nhe mightier than all big hunters. Him not like Saskatchewan country. Him\nwant travel far, far\u2014where sun goes down.\n\u201cBig medicine man, one Two-Horns-in-the-Bone not want lose Great Bear,\ngreat hunter. Him try keep Great Bear home. But Great Bear don\u2019t care.\nHe go anyway, he say.\n\u201cThen Great Bear get ready go far away. When start,\nTwo-Horns-in-the-Bone go \u2019long little way with Great Bear, so Great\nSpirit be with him in far lands. They stop on bank of Saskatchewan,\nmighty river. Great Bear, lie thirsty. He kneel down, fill up with\nwater. Two-Horns-in-the-Bone make sign over him, big medicine sign. When\nGreat Bear get up, medicine man say:\n\u201c\u2018They who drink waters of Saskatchewan shall return before they die.\u2019\n\u201cGreat Bear, him laugh. Him think Two-Horns-in-the-Bone make fun. Great\nBear young, strong; he laugh at Great Spirit, like him laugh at grizzly.\nHim leap in Saskatchewan an\u2019 swim across. Him wave spear goodbye to\nmedicine man, an\u2019 turn back on Saskatchewan.\n\u201cTwo-Horns-in-the-Bone go back to tepee. Say nothing. Him very wise.\n\u201cMany moons pass. Great Bear go far, far away\u2014to Big Sea, to desert, to\nother side of sunset. He fight many battles, always win.\n\u201cMedicine man by Saskatchewan, him wait an\u2019 smoke long pipe. Twenty\nwinters gone by, then spring come. Two-Horns-in-the-Bone walk down to\nSaskatchewan. He wait all day. When sunset come he see old man walking.\nOld man all bent over, white hair, hobble on stick.\nTwo-Horns-in-the-Bone watch. Old man come down to edge of water. Him\nkneel down and drink. Then he go back and lay down.\n\u201cTwo-Horns-in-the-Bone go to old man. Him speak, him look in face. Old\nIndian, him Great Bear. Old medicine man raise face to sky. \u2018The Great\nSpirit has spoken,\u2019 say Two-Horns-in-the-Bone. \u2018They who drink waters of\nSaskatchewan shall return before they die.\u2019\u201d\nToma\u2019s voice died out. The young Indian seemed to be in another land, as\nhe thought of his father\u2019s people. Dick and Sandy sat spell-bound.\n\u201cIt is the Legend of the Saskatchewan,\u201d Dick said in a hushed voice.\n\u201cIt sure was a good story,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cTell us another one, Toma.\u201d\nBut Toma shook his head. Dick and Sandy saw a certain sadness in his\nface, that the legend had aroused, and they did not urge him. Presently\nthey rolled into their blankets. Once asleep, they did not awaken until\nsummoned by Sergeant Brewster.\nAs they hurried from the tepee on the morning of that day which was to\nmean so much, an inspiring sight greeted their eyes.\nThe tepees of the Indian village were arranged in a hollow square, and\nin the midst of this were gathered more than fifty warriors, arrayed for\nbattle.\n\u201cIsn\u2019t it a fearful sight!\u201d exclaimed Sandy.\n\u201cI\u2019d hate to have them catch me alone in the forest,\u201d Dick responded.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll help us do for Henderson,\u201d Sergeant Brewster remarked at their\nelbow. \u201cThe spy came in an hour ago. He reports that Henderson has about\nten half-breeds and thirty Indians holding the fort. They don\u2019t dream of\nan attack. Henderson thinks Govereau is taking care of the police.\u201d\n\u201cDid the spy find out anything about Uncle Walter?\u201d Sandy queried\nanxiously.\n\u201cI was coming to that,\u201d continued the sergeant. \u201cIt seems that Henderson\nhas imprisoned him in a cave about a mile from the fort. The spy\nbelieves he can find the cave from what he overheard while inside the\nstockade. I\u2019ll detail you fellows to go after the factor. But don\u2019t\nleave until we\u2019re sure we\u2019ve taken the fort\u2014that comes first. Toma and\nMalemute Slade will accompany, with the spy as a guide.\u201d\nThey were interrupted by Malemute Slade and Constable Marden driving up\nwith the dog team.\n\u201cWal, boys,\u201d grinned Malemute Slade, \u201cwe\u2019re off for another tussle. As\nf\u2019r me I can\u2019t get to it too soon.\u201d\nDick and Sandy laughed and fell into line. The band of Indians already\nhad started out. They left the village amid the lamentations of Indian\nwomen and the loud barking of the dogs.\nThey traveled slowly, Sergeant Brewster explaining that they must not\nreach Fort Good Faith until nightfall, if they were to surprise\nHenderson. Scouts were sent on ahead to report any appearance of\nHenderson\u2019s men.\nJust before dark the war party came to a halt on the slope of a hill,\nfrom the top of which they could see Fort Good Faith not far away. Dick\nand Sandy gazed upon the stockade in awe. They had traveled more than\nsix hundred miles since leaving Fort du Lac, and at last within sight of\nthe post, they felt rewarded for all the hardships they had gone through\nin an effort to rescue Sandy\u2019s uncle.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to keep out of sight till after dark\u2014that\u2019s all that bothers\nme,\u201d chafed Sandy. \u201cI wish we were climbing the stockade right now.\u201d\nSergeant Brewster called to them just then. \u201cHere\u2019s the spy,\u201d he\npresented a somber Indian. \u201cHe\u2019ll stay close by you until it\u2019s time for\nyou to go after your uncle. Take your orders from Malemute Slade.\u201d\nWorked up to a frenzy by their war dances, the warriors were eager to\nattack, and it was all the policemen and the chiefs could do to hold\nthem back until nightfall.\nThe minutes seemed like hours. But darkness slowly fell, and the hour of\nthe attack approached. The Indians grew quieter then. At a word from the\nsergeant the war party started on toward the fort.\nAll was silent until they were under the very walls of the stockade,\nthen the Indians gave vent to a horrible war cry, and like so many\nchipmunks clambered over the stockade. The first inside rushed the guard\nat the gate and swung it open for the rest of the party. Rifles and\nrevolvers flashed in the darkness everywhere, and combined with the\ncries of the Indians, made a deafening racket.\nDick dropped down from the top of the palisades on the heels of Malemute\nSlade, Sandy and Toma following him. Suddenly he heard Sandy cry out:\n\u201cHelp, Dick!\u201d\nDick turned and ran toward the sound, his rifle clubbed in his hands. In\nthe gloom he could see Sandy struggling in the grip of a brawny\nhalf-breed, Dick\u2019s gun stock swept down, and Sandy\u2019s adversary rolled\nover and lay still.\n\u201cCome on, Sandy. Let\u2019s not lose Malemute,\u201d Dick called.\nThey could see the policemen concentrating their attack on the door of\nthe post residence, which had been hastily barricaded.\n\u201cUp an\u2019 at \u2019em,\u201d Malemute bellowed as he rushed to join the mounted\npolice. Three half-breeds leaped out of the shadows and barred the big\nscout\u2019s way. Malemute fired once, swung his fists twice, and the\nhalf-breeds were trampled underfoot.\nThe surprise attack was over as quickly as it had begun. Dick and Sandy\nsaw a huge, long-haired man come to the door in answer to the sergeant\u2019s\ndemand for surrender, and watched the handcuffs snapped upon the\noutlaw\u2019s wrists. It was the first look at the man behind all the\ntrouble. Henderson\u2019s name fitted him, they decided. He looked much like\na grizzly in man\u2019s clothing.\n\u201cThat wasn\u2019t half a fight,\u201d Malemute Slade complained. \u201cNow if that\npesky spy would show up we\u2019d skip out for the prisoner.\u201d\n\u201cThere he is!\u201d Dick exclaimed.\nThe Indian spy and Toma both were approaching at a run.\n\u201cLead on there,\u201d Malemute sang out to the spy. \u201cWe\u2019ll be a\u2019ter the\nfactor now\u2014double quick.\u201d\nLed by the spy, the five left the stockade in the hands of the mounted\npolice, and hurried off into the night.\nIt was hard going through the deep snow, but the spy seemed to be sure\nof the way. Only once did the Indian seem confused. Then he paused while\nthe rest waited impatiently. Then they were off again.\nPresently they came to a narrow canyon. Dick, Sandy and Toma were\nrunning close together. Malemute Slade and the Indian spy were slightly\nin the lead.\nSuddenly the spy stopped dead, emitting a guttural exclamation.\n\u201cDown!\u201d cried Malemute.\nScarcely had all five dropped flat when a hoarse voice sounded,\nseemingly out of the wall of the canyon:\n\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019ll shore find out in a minute,\u201d retorted Malemute boldly. \u201cJest\ncome out where we can see the color o\u2019 y\u2019r whiskers.\u201d\n\u201cIf you think much of y\u2019r hide you better skidaddle,\u201d replied the voice,\nthreateningly.\n\u201cHaw, haw,\u201d called Malemute. \u201cYou\u2019ll be the one to do the skidaddlin\u2019\nwhen we finish with yuh.\u201d\nSilence followed, while Dick strained his eyes to see from whence the\nvoice came.\n\u201cIt\u2019s from the cave,\u201d Sandy whispered.\nNerves at snapping pitch, the young adventurers awaited the orders of\nthe scout, who was mumbling to himself. Malemute was about to order a\nblind advance, when four dark forms leaped out of the rocks behind them.\nDick Kent had a momentary vision of Malemute Slade pinned under two men,\nthen something crashed down upon his head and all went black.\nDick Kent regained consciousness slowly. His head pained severely, and\nas he passed his hand through his hair his fingers encountered something\nwarm and sticky. All was silent in the canyon. He sat up with a start,\nall coming back to him\u2014the mysterious voice from the canyon wall, the\nsurprise attack, the blow that had felled him.\n\u201cSandy! Sandy!\u201d he shouted hoarsely. But the dark canyon gave back his\nvoice in a hollow echo. There was no answer.\n\u201cWhere have they gone?\u201d Dick wondered. \u201cHave they been killed or\ncaptured?\u201d\nHe got dizzily to his feet and stumbled along the canyon, feeling his\nway. Almost immediately, he felt a depression in the rock. In the\nstarlight a dark hole yawned in the wall.\n\u201cThe cave!\u201d he exulted.\nJust then he stumbled over something solid, yet yielding. Groping about\nhis feet, he recoiled in horror. It was the face of a man! In the\nstarlight he finally made out the body, and saw that it was not one of\nhis party.\nAgain Dick called out Sandy\u2019s name, but only the echo of his voice from\nthe yawning cavern answered him.\nDick\u2019s head was clearing now. He thought swiftly and concluded his\ncompanions must have gone into the cavern in search of Walter MacClaren.\nHe turned in and groped his way along, calling every now and then. Once\nhe thought he heard a shout and stopped, but all was silent.\nHe had a few matches in his pocket and he drew one out and lighted it.\nHe found himself in a large cave, evidently formed by the erosion of\nwater. The roof of the cavern was some six feet higher than his head.\nWhere he was standing there seemed but one passage.\n\u201cWell, I can\u2019t get lost if there\u2019s only the main passage,\u201d Dick decided,\nand started on boldly, feeling his way in the blackness.\nThe cavern slanted downward slightly, and leading forward fairly\nstraight, Dick made good time, though he tested every bit of footing to\nmake certain he did not step off into a hole, or run into an\nobstruction.\nPresently he could hear running water, and as the sound grew louder, he\nlighted another match. There was no disturbance of air and the flame\nburned steadily. Dick could see that the cavern branched at this point.\nDown one passage a swift stream of dark water flowed; the other was dry.\nAbout to take to the cavern that was dry underfoot, Dick heard a shout\nsomewhere in the cave before him. He thrilled as he recognized Sandy\u2019s\nvoice.\n\u201cSandy, Sandy, here I am!\u201d he answered at the top of his lungs, hurrying\ndown the cavern from which he believed the voice had come. Once more he\nheard Sandy\u2019s shout, but this time it was fainter. Then he heard it no\nlonger.\n\u201cThere must be tracks if anyone has passed here,\u201d Dick thought, and\nstriking a match, stooped down. Plainly, in the moist floor of the\ncavern, were the tracks of moccasins. But they were directed both\nforward and back, and meant very little.\nThinking to catch Sandy before he was too far away, Dick hastened\nforward with less caution. He had advanced some fifty yards, when of a\nsudden the earth gave way under him. His cry of terror was drowned by\nthe sound of falling stones and gravel, as he pitched downward. His\nclutching hands encountered a rim of solid rock. With a painful jerk he\nstopped his fall, dangling there by his fingers over a chasm he knew not\nhow deep.\nOnce he regained his breath and sense, he endeavored to pull himself up.\nBut he could not quite make it. The hole bulged outward under his feet\nand, kick and thresh as he would, he could not get a foothold anywhere.\nThe rim he was clinging to was so narrow that it was impossible for him\nto hold his body up on it even if he pulled himself up by the hands. He\nrealized that he was part way down the hole, hanging to the conical\nwall.\nDick\u2019s struggles slowly weakened. His head was paining him severely. He\nrealized that he could not hang on much longer, yet gritting his teeth,\nhe clung on while his muscles burned and his fingers grew numb.\nWith his last remaining strength, he shouted. But it seemed that his\nvoice was deadened by the formation of the hole, as if he had shouted\ninto a barrel. But again and again he raised his voice, though it grew\nweaker and weaker.\nHe did not know whether he imagined it or not, but he thought his last\noutcry received an answer. Slowly he was losing consciousness. It seemed\nthat he could hear the pad, pad of moccasins and more voices. A hand\ngrasped his wrists, then he gave out.\nWhen once more Dick awakened he found himself in a dimly lighted\nunderground room. Some one was pouring something hot between his teeth.\n\u201cSandy!\u201d he started up, looking into his chum\u2019s happy face.\n\u201cGreetin\u2019s, lad,\u201d called Malemute Slade, smiling down from the other\nside of him, \u201cyou\u2019ve had a tough time of it.\u201d\n\u201cI thought it was all over with as far as I was concerned,\u201d replied\nDick.\n\u201cUncle Walter is here, but he\u2019s pretty sick,\u201d Sandy was telling him. \u201cWe\nfound him in this room, almost dead from starvation. He seems to be a\nlittle better since we fed him some hot broth.\u201d\nDick raised up, his aching head swimming. Across the room, watched over\nby Toma, on a heap of balsam boughs, he saw a bearded man, haggard of\nface. It was Walter MacClaren.\n\u201cI guess I can stand on my pins now,\u201d declared Dick. \u201cBut where did you\nall go right after I was knocked out?\u201d\n\u201cThe devils drove us right into the cave,\u201d volunteered Malemute Slade.\n\u201cIt was a running fight till I climbed on a shelf of rock an\u2019 dropped\ndown on the beans of a couple of \u2019em. I cracked their pates, then we\nchoked the other one till he told us where the lad\u2019s uncle was. Me\u2014I\nguess I\u2019ve got about all I want of fightin\u2019 for today.\u201d\n\u201cI heard you shouting,\u201d Sandy explained, \u201cbut you were in the wrong\nbranch of the cavern. I had to go clear down to the fork before I found\nwhere you were. You had just about let go of the rock. I was scared to\ndeath when I had pulled you out. I struck a match\u2014and say!\u2014that hole\ndidn\u2019t seem to have any bottom.\u201d\nDick shuddered, but smiled grimly. He had had a close shave\u2014they had all\nhad a close shave\u2014but things had come out right in the end.\nMalemute Slade had located the store of food kept by MacClaren\u2019s guards,\nand they sat down and had a bite to eat. Then, they all gathered\nanxiously around Walter MacClaren. With eyes shining, Sandy stooped\nforward and patted his uncle\u2019s hand.\n\u201cEverything is all right now,\u201d the youth muttered happily. \u201cI\u2019m sure\nthat Uncle Walt will get better.\u201d\nFor several minutes they stood there in the half-light, looking down at\nthe recumbent figure of the man, whose life they had saved barely in the\nnick of time. Except for their quiet breathing and the low trickle of\nwater in an alcove close at hand, the deep hush remained unbroken. Then,\nunexpectedly, MacClaren stirred, muttering in his sleep. His eyes\nblinked open.\nHis gaze wavered from one to the other of the little company gathered\naround him, and slowly a smile played across his lips.\n\u201cUp in a few days,\u201d he managed to articulate weakly. \u201cThanks\u2014everyone of\nyou! I\u2019ll be feeling fine in the morning.\u201d\nThen, with another smile, he rolled over on his side and went back to\nsleep. In a surge of new-found happiness, Dick nodded significantly at\nSandy, and, arm-in-arm, they turned quietly and tip-toed out of the\nroom.\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and\n  dialect unchanged.\n--Added a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.\n--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the\n  HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dick Kent with the Mounted Police, by \nMilton Richards\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK KENT WITH THE MOUNTED POLICE ***\n***** This file should be named 50431-0.txt or 50431-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\n                  \u201cDick Kent with the Mounted Police\u201d\n                      \u201cDick Kent with the Eskimos\u201d\n                   \u201cDick Kent and the Malemute Mail\u201d\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                 _Made in the United States of America_\n                       DICK KENT IN THE FAR NORTH\nThree persons plodded along the snow-piled floor of a tiny canyon in the\nheart of the northern Canadian wilderness. The broad snow-shoes on their\nfeet made their progress like that of so many huge crabs on a sea shore.\nIn the fore was a tall, well-knit young man, whose weather-tanned face\nwas that of Dick Kent, who for more than a year had sought and found\nadventure in the vast land where the sole guardians of the peace are the\nRoyal North West Mounted Police.\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be very far from here,\u201d he turned and spoke, his breath\npuffing out in white vapor.\nSandy MacClaren strained his eyes ahead. His stocky frame, no less\nhardened than that of his older chum, Dick Kent, seemed to bend forward\nwith a little more eagerness as he replied:\n\u201cI hope we don\u2019t pass it by.\u201d\nThe man in the rear laughed. He was Sandy\u2019s uncle, Walter MacClaren, an\nold Scotchman, and factor at Fort Good Faith for the Hudson\u2019s Bay\nCompany.\n\u201cI hardly think I could miss the cave,\u201d he spoke. \u201cI spent too many\nunpleasant hours in there without anything to eat.\u201d\nDick Kent was about to respond to this, when he caught sight of what\nthey were seeking, the mouth of a large cave in the wall of the canyon.\n\u201cThere it is!\u201d he cried, quickening his pace.\n\u201cNow for the map!\u201d exulted Sandy.\nAll three removed their snowshoes at the mouth of the under-ground\npassage, which seemed to have been formed by the erosion of water in\nages gone by, and, in moccasined feet, went along the dark corridor,\nlighting candles which they had brought with them from Fort Good Faith,\nnot far south.\n\u201cRemember it\u2019s the left branch when we get to the fork,\u201d Sandy called to\nhis chum.\n\u201cYes, I guess I won\u2019t forget that.\u201d\nDick recalled a particularly exciting incident in that same cave, which\nwould indelibly impress upon his memory the correct passage to the\nunderground chamber, which was their destination.\nThe three hurried on down the main passage until ahead, in the dim glow\nof the candles, they could see where the main cavern branched. Almost\nthere, Dick in the lead, paused.\n\u201cWait,\u201d he whispered.\nSandy and his uncle drew back.\n\u201cI thought I heard a sound in the passage to the right,\u201d Dick said in a\nlow voice.\nThey listened for a few seconds, but heard nothing.\n\u201cProbably some animal who has come in here out of the cold,\u201d Sandy\u2019s\nuncle observed.\n\u201cIt sounded like footsteps,\u201d Dick replied dubiously. \u201cAnd you know we\u2019ve\nplenty of reason to believe we\u2019re not the only ones after what\u2019s in this\ncave.\u201d\nSandy agreed, but was anxious to go on, and since whatever sound had\nbeen detected by Dick\u2019s sharp ears was not repeated, they continued down\nthe passage to the left.\nFor several minutes they wound downward before they reached the widening\nof the passage and abruptly entered an underground chamber which seemed\nto have been fashioned by the tools of man.\n\u201cAt last,\u201d whispered Dick.\nThere was no sign of life evident, except those a week or so old, as\nthey hurried to a particular portion of the rock wall and bent over it\nwith their candles. What the light revealed was a confusing tracing of\ncharcoal lines and crosses. It was the map of the location of the lost\ngold mine, and had been the purpose of their visit.\n\u201cI\u2019ll copy it on this sheet of paper I\u2019ve brought, so it will be clear\nto you boys,\u201d Sandy\u2019s uncle spoke, his voice sounding hollow in the\nsilent, damp place.\nHe had just placed the paper on a smooth portion of the rock and touched\nthe pencil to it, when a sound brought them to their feet. Somewhere\nalong the passage they had come a stone had fallen. Someone was\nfollowing them!\nFor the benefit of those readers who did not follow the adventures of\nDick Kent and his chum, Sandy MacClaren, in the first volume of this\nseries, a few explanations may clear up many obscure points. Several\nmonths before, they had with the aid of the mounted police, rescued\nWalter MacClaren from the control of Bear Henderson, an unprincipled\nenemy of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company, who had tried and failed to gain\ncontrol of all the far north trading posts. In the incidents leading to\nthe rescue they had met a particularly mysterious enemy, whom they\ncalled the Scar-Faced Indian.\nAt Fort Good Faith\u2014when as a reward for their help during the Henderson\ntrouble, Sandy\u2019s uncle had consented to let them hunt for the lost\nmine\u2014the scar-faced Indian had been detected eavesdropping at the door\nby Toma, a young Indian guide, who had accompanied the boys on many of\ntheir adventures. Toma had sworn vengeance against Scar-Face, since he\nbelieved his brother, Big John Toma, had been killed by the Indian. But,\nwith his usual elusiveness, Scar-Face had escaped Toma, and the boys\nwere left to wonder just what steps the Indian would take to thwart them\nin their attempt to find the mine.\nThe sound that had startled the three in the cavern chamber immediately\nbrought before the minds of Dick and Sandy a vision of the evil face of\nthe Indian.\n\u201cShall we go back and chase whoever it is out of the cave?\u201d Sandy\nqueried tensely.\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t do anything like that,\u201d Dick shook his head. \u201cIf it\u2019s the\nscar-faced Indian he\u2019ll have a trap set for us. We\u2019ll just watch the\nentrance while your uncle copies the map. When that\u2019s done, all three of\nus will be ready for trouble.\u201d\nFactor MacClaren considered Dick\u2019s plan wise and went ahead with his\nwork, while Dick and Sandy turned their attention to the entrance of the\nchamber.\nFearfully they waited, wondering just what might appear. It was very\nnearly an hour before Walter MacClaren finished copying the map, yet no\none had come. Out of the corner of their eyes, Dick and Sandy watched\nthe factor erase the charcoal tracings on the rock and turn to them.\n\u201cWe\u2019re ready to go back to the fort now,\u201d he said.\n\u201cIf we ever get back,\u201d Sandy rejoined.\n\u201cOh, I don\u2019t think there\u2019s much danger with the three of us,\u201d Dick\nencouraged.\n\u201cYes, but that scar-faced Indian is apt to have some one with him, and\nif they jump down on our heads from one of the ledges in this cave,\nwe\u2019ll have small chance of getting away.\u201d\n\u201cWell, we\u2019ve got to hope for the best and be prepared to fight with all\nthere is in us,\u201d Dick responded grimly, gripping his rifle, a 45.70\nWinchester, and starting into the cavern.\nTensely Sandy followed, the factor taking up the rear with the precious\nmap stuffed under his heavy bearskin overcoat.\nSlowly they progressed back along the dark passage, scanning the shadows\nahead and overhead for a sign of whatever had made the noise. A hundred\nfeet from the chamber, a pair of eyes glowed out of the darkness. Dick\nraised his rifle, aiming at the gleaming points ahead. His sights came\ninto line squarely and he fired.\nThe crack of his rifle was almost deafening.\n\u201cI got him!\u201d shouted Dick, hurrying forward. \u201cA bear!\u201d\nSandy and his uncle had joined Dick over his kill. The large black body\nquivered under the candle light.\n\u201cI hated to do it,\u201d Dick was sorry. \u201cPoor old fellow!\u201d\n\u201cHe was probably wintering here somewhere,\u201d Sandy\u2019s uncle put in. \u201cI\nwonder if he made that rock fall which we heard.\u201d\n\u201cProbably did,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cWell, I hope so,\u201d the factor declared earnestly. \u201cMy old bones won\u2019t\nstand much excitement. I\u2019m not the tough customer I used to be when I\nwas your age.\u201d\nAll three went on, a little more confident that no danger lay ahead.\nDick alone, had his suspicions of what lay before them, and he was about\nto advise the factor to walk between him and Sandy, when of a sudden,\nthere sounded the fall of a body directly behind them. There came a\ngrunting shout and Sandy\u2019s candle was knocked from his hand, and the\ncavern plunged in darkness.\n\u201cHey!\u201d Dick whirled, his gun clubbed. The sound of scuffling was heard,\nand blindly he plunged back.\n\u201cHere he is,\u201d Sandy\u2019s muffled shout directed him. \u201cHe\u2019s got Uncle Walter\ndown, trying to take the map away from him.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s voice died away with a sudden _umph!_ Dick\u2019s rearward leap was\nstopped by a heavy body. The shock almost knocked the breath out of him,\nbut he clung on to the person he had collided with, feeling that it was\nneither Sandy nor the factor.\n\u201cHere, here! I\u2019ve got him!\u201d cried Dick, panting. Then he was overpowered\nand thrown heavily down. The sound of retreating footsteps sounded along\nthe cavern in the darkness. Sandy\u2019s candle flared up under a match.\n\u201cAre you all right, Dick?\u201d was Sandy\u2019s question.\nDick picked himself up and replied that he was. \u201cQuick, find out if he\ngot the map from your uncle!\u201d\nFactor MacClaren himself replied: \u201cLuckily he didn\u2019t, though he thinks\nhe did. He got an old letter out of my inside breast pocket. The map is\nsafe. Wonder who it was?\u201d\n\u201cIt must have been the scar-faced Indian,\u201d Dick guessed the identity of\ntheir unknown assailant. \u201cSay, he didn\u2019t work slow, did he?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll say he didn\u2019t,\u201d rejoined Sandy, rubbing one eye, which was already\ncommencing to blacken from a blow received at the hands of the man in\nthe dark.\n\u201cLet\u2019s hurry and get out of this hole and back to the fort,\u201d said Dick\nhastily.\nAll three hurried on and reached the blinding sunlight of the canyon\nwithout further mishap. An hour later they were in the big log house of\nthe factor, gathered around the map, listening to Walter MacClaren\u2019s\ndirections regarding it. Toma, the young Indian guide who was to\naccompany them on the trail to the lost mine, had joined them. His dark,\nimmobile face was over the table with the rest, when a tall, long-haired\nman entered. They looked up.\n\u201cHello, Malemute,\u201d Dick greeted the newcomer. \u201cWhat\u2019s the news?\u201d\n\u201cReckon we\u2019re goin\u2019 to have company on this here trip,\u201d said the big\nman. \u201cA constable of the mounted from Fort Dunwoody has just come in\nwith instructions to capture a party of fur thieves, hidin\u2019 in the\nterritory you\u2019re goin\u2019 into.\u201d\n\u201cGood! We may need him badly before we get through,\u201d Dick replied.\nMalemute Slade, an official scout for the mounted police, who through\nthe effort of the factor had been detailed to accompany the boys on\ntheir trip northward, agreed with Dick, and ushered in a scarlet-coated,\nbrisk-looking officer, at sight of whom both Dick and Sandy emitted\nexclamations of delight. It was no less than Corporal Richardson, an old\nfriend, whom they had aided when he was wounded on the trail from Fort\ndu Lac to Fort Dunwoody.\nCorporal Richardson was as pleased as they at this reunion, and, at\ntheir invitation, joined them around the big table in the post living\nroom.\nThat night, after a brain-taxing afternoon, following the factor\u2019s\ninstruction regarding the location of the lost mine, Dick lay wide awake\nuntil very late, thinking over the happenings of the day. He had a bunk\ncurtained from the living room, not far from the entrance to MacClaren\u2019s\nprivate sleeping room. He realized that Sandy\u2019s uncle had taken the map\nwith him, and half that kept him awake was a fear that another effort\nmight be made to steal it. Lying there, looking up into the impenetrable\ndarkness, it seemed that a hundred suspicious sounds were audible. But\nat last he fell fitfully asleep.\nIt seemed to Dick that he had slumbered for only a moment, when suddenly\nhe was wide awake, his skin prickling as if some unknown presence were\nin the room. Quietly he lay there, listening in the darkness, forcing\nthe dullness of sleep from his senses. What had awakened him?\nThen his hand crept slowly to the head of his bunk where a rifle leaned.\nSome one was fumbling at Factor MacClaren\u2019s door. As he strained his\neyes in the dark, he could distinguish a shadowy figure crouching there.\n                     A MESSENGER FROM HEADQUARTERS\nIn the breathless interval that followed, Dick Kent was unable to decide\nupon a definite course of action. The figure of the man still crouched\nbefore Factor MacClaren\u2019s door but Dick, rifle in hand, felt that under\nno circumstances could he bring himself to fire point-blank at the\nshadowy form, even if the entire success of their expedition depended\nupon it. He could hear the slight rattle of the door, and the faint\nshuffle of the intruder\u2019s moccasined feet. Momentarily, he awaited the\ncrash that would follow the man\u2019s efforts to break in.\nThe rifle lay like a dead weight in Dick\u2019s hands. The suspense and\nexcitement of the moment seemed unendurable. His limbs had commenced\nunder the strain to shake and quiver, as if afflicted by some deadly\nmalady. If he fired, he would kill the man, and if he cried out, as he\nvery much wanted to do, the man would probably kill him. It was the sort\nof predicament with which Dick had no desire to cope, and yet here he\nwas, in spite of himself, at the very beginning of their adventures,\nplaced in a position that might have daunted a much older person.\nWhile he still hesitated, there fell suddenly across the deep quiet of\nthe room the smashing sound of the door breaking in, and through the\ndark shadows Dick perceived, as he sat there, wide-eyed with\napprehension, the intruder thrown into Factor MacClaren\u2019s room with a\nforce that carried him half way to the sleeping man\u2019s bed. He knew\nimmediately what had happened. Shoulders hunched, the man had employed\nwhat, in school circles, would have been called football tactics. From a\nposition about ten feet from the door, he had charged forward, breaking\nthrough the heavy obstruction and gaining access to the room.\nHe had picked himself up from the floor, as Dick sprang to the\nassistance of the factor, shouting as he went. By the time Dick had\nentered the chamber itself, a furious struggle was in progress\u2014a wild\ntossing and tumbling about of two scarcely distinguishable forms. A\nchair crashed to the floor. Some heavy object whirled past Dick\u2019s head,\nstriking the wall with a thudding impact, before it dropped clattering\nalmost at his heels. No sooner had he started forward to give his\nassistance to Factor MacClaren in the unequal struggle, when he was\nthrown back again violently, as the two men, locked in each other\u2019s\narms, swayed into him. Dick sat down with a thump, the corner of the\nheavy table cutting the back of his head.\nThe fall had dazed him and his recovery was slow. From this point on\nDick was unaware of the events that followed in rapid succession. His\nfirst really clear impression was that of a blinding glare of light in\nhis eyes, and the voice of Malemute Slade raised in alarm.\n\u201cThis boy\u2019s hurt a\u2019right. Bad cut on the back of his head. Move back,\ncorporal, while I lift him up.\u201d\nThe mounted police scout stooped forward and Dick felt himself being\nraised bodily, swung up in the powerful arms of his friend. Then\nRichardson spoke:\n\u201cI\u2019ll attend to MacClaren\u2019s bruises while you put this lad to bed. We\u2019re\nlucky in one way that no one was seriously hurt. Mighty lucky!\u201d\n\u201cExcept for that map, I\u2019d call this night\u2019s business more than lucky,\u201d\naffirmed Malemute Slade. \u201cBut it\u2019s too blamed bad he got that.\nMacClaren\u2019ll feel worse about the loss of the map than the trummeling he\ngot. Still as you say, corporal, we\u2019re all of us mighty fortunate that\nnothin\u2019 worse happened. Ol\u2019 Scar-Face ain\u2019t usually so keerful \u2019bout\nthings.\u201d\nThe scout continued talking to himself as he carried his bewildered\nburden into the adjoining room.\n\u201cSo the map\u2019s gone,\u201d Dick quavered a moment later. \u201cAre you sure,\nSlade?\u201d\n\u201cYou sit here an\u2019 keep your trap shut,\u201d Slade ordered, not as gruffly as\nhis manner indicated. \u201cYou\u2019re hurt, boy, an I\u2019m goin\u2019 to fix you up.\nI\u2019ll fetch some bandages right quick.\u201d\n\u201cBut the map\u2014\u2014\u201d Dick sat straight up, not in the least heeding Slade\u2019s\ncommand. \u201cDid he really get it? I tell you, I must know.\u201d\n\u201cHe sure did. Broke the window an\u2019 made good his escape. I don\u2019t want to\ndiscourage nobody, but you an\u2019 Sandy had better say good-bye to your\nchances of ever finding that mine. Jes\u2019 forget it.\u201d An interval of\nsilence ensued. The mounted police scout stroked Dick\u2019s hand.\n\u201cPlucky little savage\u2014you!\u201d he grinned. \u201cBut you better forget it. Sandy\nan\u2019 you can have lots of fun anyway. Couldn\u2019t keep you out of mischief\nvery long, I guess. Not you two, I reckon!\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t care so much about losing the map or our chance of finding the\nmine,\u201d declared Dick manfully, smothering what sounded very much like a\nsob, \u201cbut I hate to give up before we\u2019re really licked\u2014especially by\nthat\u2014that\u2014\u2014\u201d He paused, searching for the word that would most aptly\ndescribe the person he had in mind, \u201cby that tripe,\u201d he concluded.\n\u201cYeah, it does seem bad,\u201d Slade reflected. \u201c\u2019Course, we\u2019ll try to get\nthe map back again. I didn\u2019t mean to sit with our arms folded, or\nanything like that. Scar-Face ain\u2019t through with us yet, an\u2019 the mounted\npolice\u2019ll have a nice string of crimes chalked up to his credit when we\ndo get him. But this here map is a different matter, if you can follow\nme, son. They\u2019ll be sure to hide or destroy it when they are in danger\nof being captured. It stands to reason that if they can\u2019t have the pesky\nmine themselves, they won\u2019t let you have it.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d admitted Dick.\n\u201c\u2019Course I am. An\u2019 now for those bandages. No sense in sittin\u2019 here\nyapping like this anyway. We can\u2019t help ourselves by talking, can we?\nThe thing to do is get goin\u2019\u2014quick!\u201d\n\u201cYou mean follow Scar-Face?\u201d\n\u201cYep. That\u2019s exactly what I do mean. A light snow has fallen an\u2019 he\nwon\u2019t be so hard to track. Corporal Richardson an\u2019 I\u2019ll be on the trail\nin less than an hour. How does that strike you?\u201d\n\u201cSplendid!\u201d exclaimed Dick, unable to conceal his enthusiasm. \u201cSandy and\nI will follow along in the morning. We\u2019ll catch up to you, won\u2019t we,\nSlade?\u201d\nThe mounted police scout laughed as he strode away. When he had returned\na short time later with his first-aid emergency kit tucked under one\narm, a basin of water in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other,\nhe was still grinning broadly.\nFor several minutes Slade was too busily occupied with his task of\ndressing Dick\u2019s wound, to find time to talk. Having finished, however,\nhe sat down on the bed beside his young charge and playfully poked that\nyoung man in the ribs.\n\u201cSo you an\u2019 Sandy are goin\u2019 to catch up to us,\u201d he chuckled. \u201cSon, I\nlike your spirit. It\u2019s boys like you that grow up to be men like\u2014well,\nsay like Corporal Richardson.\u201d\n\u201cOr Malemute Slade,\u201d suggested Dick.\nA tiny scowl flickered between Slade\u2019s eyes.\n\u201cNo\u2014not me. I\u2019m nobody. I ain\u2019t ever had a chance. I can\u2019t even read or\nwrite. A good mounted policeman has education, brains and nerve. I ain\u2019t\ngot nothin\u2019 except nerve.\u201d\n\u201cAnd a heart as big as a house,\u201d added Dick. \u201cNot to mention other\nthings like woodcraft and knowledge of birds and animals and men. You\nknow the location of most of the trails, lakes and portages in this\ncountry. Corporal Richardson told me that you were a crack shot. He said\nthat you could shoot faster and hit oftener than any person he had ever\nknown. You\u2019re the best marksman in northwestern Canada.\u201d\nMalemute Slade flushed to the roots of his hair.\n\u201cLook here,\u201d he began gruffly, \u201cyou keep your trap closed.\u201d\n\u201cI know now why you laughed when I said Sandy and I would overtake you\nand Corporal Richardson on the trail,\u201d grinned Dick. \u201cWhat I meant, of\ncourse, was that we\u2019d follow along and join you later.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019ll stay right here until we get back,\u201d ordered Slade. \u201cThat\u2019s\nfinal. There\u2019s goin\u2019 to be some trouble up the line. We\u2019re risking our\nown lives\u2014not yours.\u201d\n\u201cHe\u2019s right, Dick,\u201d broke in the heavy, though not unmusical voice of\nCorporal Richardson. \u201cNeither you nor Sandy can come along this time.\nYou must wait here until we return.\u201d\nDick choked back his disappointment, looking up at the stalwart figure\nof Corporal Richardson through a blur of tears. He turned his head and\nstared miserably across at the room which had almost been wrecked in the\nrecent encounter between Factor MacClaren and the scar-faced Indian. A\nwhirl of conflicting thoughts flashed through his mind.\n\u201cAll right,\u201d he said dully, \u201cbut\u2014\u2014\u201d\nHe was interrupted by the appearance of an Indian servant, upon the\nheels of whom came a tall young man with flashing eyes, clad in a heavy\nfur coat and parka. For a brief moment the young man stood, surveying\nthe three occupants of the room. Then, without further preliminary, he\nadvanced shyly toward Corporal Richardson, fumbling in the pocket of his\ncoat.\n\u201cFor ze mounted police,\u201d he said, presenting Richardson with a long\nofficial-looking envelope. \u201cInspector Cameron he tell me take eet to\nyou. To be queek. To be very careful. I have been on the trail eight,\nten hours, monsieur.\u201d\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said Corporal Richardson simply. He tore open the envelope,\nproduced the letter and read its contents. Except for a slight pucker on\nhis brow, there was no change in his expression.\n\u201cIt will be necessary,\u201d he said, turning to Slade, \u201cto change our plans\ncompletely. I must ask you to go on alone in pursuit of the scar-faced\nIndian. It will be my duty to proceed elsewhere. I\u2019m sorry, Slade.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t you worry about that, Corporal. Orders is orders. I\u2019ll go alone.\u201d\nA moment of silence, then: \u201cWhen do you think I\u2019d better start?\u201d\n\u201cRight away,\u201d answered Corporal Richardson.\nDick grunted and rolled back into bed, thoroughly disgusted with the\nwhole world in general, but particularly with a certain body of men\nknown as the Royal North West Mounted Police. They had commanded him to\nremain at the post, while glorious adventure stalked valiantly along the\nsnow-white trail just beyond. He and Sandy were not babies to be petted\nand pampered in this manner. He\u2019d show \u2019em. He\u2014\u2014\nWith rebellion in his heart, Dick rolled over presently, thumped down\nhis pillow, and, in a very short time, fell fast asleep.\nDick awoke on the following morning to find Sandy stooping over him,\nregarding him silently with eyes from which shone sympathy and deep\nconcern. As a matter of fact, Sandy was seriously alarmed over his\nfriend\u2019s appearance. Dick\u2019s bandaged head and somewhat pallid face gave\nhim the look of one who hovers close to death\u2019s door. There was an\nunmistakable catch in the young Scotchman\u2019s voice as he leaned forward\nstill closer to the recumbent form and inquired solicitously:\n\u201cAre you feeling any better, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m feeling fine,\u201d came the surprising answer, \u201cand I\u2019m going to get up\nin about three minutes and fight it out with Corporal Richardson. I have\nno intention of being treated like a child.\u201d\nThe angry wave of color that swept into Dick\u2019s cheeks, coupled with the\ndark frown and resentful eyes, so astonished Sandy that he sat down on\nthe edge of the bed and gasped weakly:\n\u201cYou don\u2019t really mean that. Why, Dick, you\u2019re no match for Corporal\nRichardson. Besides, it\u2019s a criminal offense to assault a mounted\npoliceman.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not going to assault a mounted policeman,\u201d Dick petulantly\nexplained. \u201cI think too much of Corporal Richardson for that. What I\nintend to do is to find out why he intends to keep us here until\nMalemute Slade returns. My contention is that as long as we obey the\nlaws and conduct ourselves like honest citizens, no person has the right\nto interfere in our business.\u201d\nSandy sat for a long time before answering. Here was a problem that\nrequired a good deal of careful thought and attention. On the face of\nit, Dick\u2019s grievance seemed pardonable, and yet common sense told him\nthat Corporal Richardson was fair and just, not at all the sort of\nperson to take advantage of his authority. If the mounted policeman\ninsisted upon Dick and him staying here, there must be a good reason for\nit.\n\u201cDidn\u2019t Corporal Richardson tell you why he wanted us to stay here?\u201d\nSandy asked.\n\u201cHe and Malemute Slade thought we would be risking our lives if we\nfollowed Scar-Face.\u201d\n\u201cWell, perhaps they\u2019re right.\u201d\nDick sat up and put one hand on his friend\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cListen to me, Sandy. Listen to me and then, if you wish, form your own\nopinion. The mounted police insist upon our remaining here at the post\nbecause if we undertake to follow old Scar-Face we may be risking our\nlives. They may be right. I haven\u2019t the least doubt but that we\u2019ll\nencounter certain dangers. Possibly we\u2019ll be risking our lives but,\u201d\nDick paused and waved one hand dramatically, \u201cwhat else have we been\ndoing except just that: Risking our lives every day, running into\ndangers and difficulties with the consent of everybody, including the\nmounted police. Now, suddenly, for no reason at all, we\u2019re asked to be\ngood little boys, to remain indoors for fear we may catch a bad cold. I\ntell you, Sandy, it sounds fishy to me.\u201d\n\u201cDick, I think you\u2019d make a great orator,\u201d said Sandy admiringly.\n\u201cAnd a poor soldier,\u201d chimed in a voice. \u201cPardon me for eavesdropping,\ngentlemen, but the fact is I couldn\u2019t help overhearing a part of your\nconversation.\u201d\nFaces red with shame, the two boys turned in the direction of the\nnewcomer, Corporal Richardson himself, who stood just inside the door.\nDick could have bit out his tongue or, better still, hid his head under\nthe pillow while some friendly magician transported him\u2014bed, blankets\nand all\u2014to some remote place, thousands and thousands of miles distant.\nFor the first time he realized what a fool he had been\u2014a miserable young\nfool with a wagging tongue in his head. He hadn\u2019t the courage to look\nCorporal Richardson in the face.\n\u201cYou\u2019d make a poor soldier,\u201d continued the corporal, calmly surveying\nthe two culprits. \u201cYou see, Dick, a soldier\u2019s first duty is obedience.\nWhat do you suppose would happen to me if I questioned my superior\u2019s\ncommands, if I didn\u2019t do what I was told to do even if, deep down in my\nheart, I believed or knew that my superior was in the wrong?\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019d be placed under arrest,\u201d surmised Sandy.\n\u201cRight! That\u2019s exactly what would happen to me. And I\u2019d deserve the\npunishment I got.\u201d\nCorporal Richardson ceased speaking for a moment, strode forward and\nplaced a kindly hand on Dick\u2019s bandaged head.\n\u201cNow don\u2019t feel badly about this, Dick, and when I go out of the room I\nwant you to try and forget the reprimand. Dismiss the whole incident,\njust as I propose to dismiss it. We\u2019re all friends, I owe you boys a\ndebt of gratitude. I admire you both very much. As a general thing, I\u2019m\nnot usually one to hand out compliments or bestow praise, but I\u2019ll say\nthis: You and Sandy are as rough a pair of young vagabonds as it has\never been my experience to meet.\u201d\nA roar of laughter greeted this amusing sally, and for a moment Dick\nentirely forgot his discomfiture.\n\u201cSeriously now,\u201d Corporal Richardson continued, \u201cI want both of you to\nunderstand my position in this matter. Remember this: It is one thing to\nrisk your life, but quite another to risk your life needlessly. That\u2019s\nexactly what you\u2019d be doing if you went out on the trail with Malemute\nSlade. Your chance of stopping a bullet would be exceedingly good.\nScar-Face would lead you into a trap before you had gone thirty miles. I\ntell you Henderson\u2019s gang of cut-throats and ruffians has become a\nterrible menace to the entire western portion of this north country.\nConditions have never been worse since the Riel Rebellion. If things do\nnot improve shortly, I\u2019m afraid the Royal Mounted will be compelled to\ncall in outside aid.\u201d\n\u201cBut what will happen to Malemute Slade?\u201d questioned Sandy in awed\ntones.\n\u201cTo be perfectly frank, I\u2019ll be worried about him and won\u2019t know a\nsingle moment\u2019s peace until he returns. However, Slade can look after\nhimself much better than he could if you boys went with him. He\u2019s the\nbest scout in the mounted police service.\u201d\n\u201cDo you think he has any chance of recovering the map?\u201d Dick asked.\nCorporal Richardson shook his head.\n\u201cI doubt it very much. I do not believe any of us will ever see the map\nagain. But that does not mean that you need give up hope altogether.\nYour chance of finding the mine and eventually getting it into your\npossession is almost as good now as it ever was.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d both boys shouted out in unison.\n\u201cHenderson and his gang will be apt to find it, won\u2019t they? Well if they\ndo, we\u2019ll take it away from them. Could anything be simpler? It sounds\neasy but, of course, it isn\u2019t. Just the same, I really do think the\nthing could be managed.\u201d\n\u201cA sort of roundabout way of gaining possession,\u201d laughed Dick.\n\u201cAny way is a good way, especially in their case,\u201d grinned Sandy. \u201cBut\nif you\u2019ll excuse me, I\u2019m going to see Uncle Walter. He\u2019s covered with\nbruises from head to foot. Painful, of course, but not serious. I can\u2019t\nimagine how I managed to sleep through all that uproar last night.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not at all surprised,\u201d rejoined Dick, who well knew his friend\u2019s\npropensity in this regard, and never lost an opportunity of chiding him\nabout it.\nWhen Sandy had hurried away, Corporal Richardson turned to Dick.\n\u201cWe\u2019re friends, aren\u2019t we?\u201d\n\u201cYou bet!\u201d came the answer unhesitatingly. \u201cCorporal, I owe you an\napology. I can see now what a fool I was.\u201d Impulsively he extended his\nhand.\n\u201cNow that that\u2019s settled,\u201d said Richardson, \u201cI have a job for you. Do\nyou happen to remember the messenger, who came last night?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cIf you saw him again would you know him?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d stated Dick positively.\n\u201cHow did he impress you?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, favorably, I guess.\u201d Dick wondered what the policeman was driving\nat.\n\u201cThat was my first impression too,\u201d Corporal Richardson resumed, \u201cbut I\nhave since had occasion to alter it considerably. I don\u2019t mind telling\nyou that I nearly made a very fatal error of judgment. That\nFrench-Canadian messenger was a fake, and he brought me a fake message,\nsupposed to be from Inspector Cameron. I was fooled last night and\npermitted my man to escape. This morning a careful scrutiny of the\nmessage proved that the signature affixed was a forgery. In other words,\nthe letter did not come from headquarters at all, although the\nstationery upon which it had been penned must have been stolen from the\nInspector\u2019s office.\u201d\n\u201cWhat did the letter say?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cIt instructed me to proceed, not later than the morning of March\n2nd\u2014which is today\u2014to a place called Little Run River and there place a\ncertain person under arrest for the theft of valuable furs.\u201d\n\u201cBut what would be the purpose of such a hoax?\u201d Dick wanted to know.\n\u201cSimply to get me out of the way. For some reason, not yet quite\napparent, my presence here at Fort Good Faith is not wanted. For some\nreason, my presence here interferes with the carrying out of important\nplans of certain unscrupulous persons; which, of course, makes it all\nthe more necessary why I should remain and why you should go on to Run\nRiver in my place.\u201d\nDick would not have jumped to his feet any quicker if he had been\npricked by a pin.\n\u201cIn your place!\u201d he gasped. \u201cWhy, corporal, I don\u2019t understand! No one\ncould mistake me for you!\u201d\n\u201cWhen I get through with you,\u201d calmly smiled the mounted policeman,\n\u201canyone will be very apt to be fooled by the resemblance. The main thing\nis, you\u2019re about my height.\u201d\nAt that moment Dick was too excited to grasp fully what the corporal was\ntelling him. Presently, however, he was enlightened.\n\u201cFor the first time in your life, Dick,\u201d declared Corporal Richardson,\nstill smiling, \u201cyou\u2019re going to don the uniform of his majesty\u2019s Royal\nNorth West Mounted Police.\u201d\n                        DICK MAKES A SUGGESTION\nA very serious but elated young man, no other than Dick himself, strode\ninto the room occupied by Corporal Richardson and proceeded to put on\nthe scarlet and gold uniform of the Royal North West Mounted Police. At\nthat particular moment his mind was in a whirl of conflicting emotions.\nHe still possessed a somewhat hazy idea of what was expected of him,\nalthough he knew that when the time came Richardson would give him\ncomplete and painstaking instructions.\nThat he was embarking upon an important and mysterious errand, there\ncould be no doubt, and it thrilled him to know that the mounted\npoliceman had sufficient confidence in his ability to give him this\nchance to be of real service. As he pulled on the blue breeches with the\nwide yellow stripe and later the scarlet tunic, resplendent with braid\nand shining brass buttons, he made a solemn resolution to be worthy of\nthe trust imposed in him.\n\u201cSandy will laugh when he sees me,\u201d he told Corporal Richardson, \u201cand I\nmust say that I feel awkward and out of place.\u201d\n\u201cIt fits you remarkably well,\u201d smiled the corporal, \u201cconsidering how\nmuch heavier I am. I think I\u2019m inclined to be proud of your appearance,\nand perhaps just a little bit jealous.\u201d\n\u201cWhen do you want me to start?\u201d Dick asked. \u201cIn about an hour. But\nfirst, there are a number of things I want to discuss with you. So, if\nyou\u2019ll just sit down in that chair over there and listen attentively,\nI\u2019m sure there\u2019ll be no question about the ultimate success of our\nplan.\u201d\n\u201cAs I explained to you before,\u201d continued Corporal Richardson, \u201cthe\nFrench-Canadian messenger, who came here last night with the forged\nletter, is an agent or emissary of a band of crooks. Who these crooks\nare, I\u2019m not altogether sure. My belief is that they\u2019re the fur thieves\nMalemute Slade and I have been trailing for the last three weeks.\u201d\nSitting very still and rigid in his chair, Dick followed closely every\nword spoken. Richardson\u2019s face had become serious, even stern in its\nexpression.\n\u201cI\u2019ve nothing very tangible to go on, of course, but during the past few\nhours I\u2019ve given a good deal of thought to this case. I\u2019m convinced of\none thing. I\u2019m positive that the fur thieves and Henderson\u2019s gang are\none and the same. I believe it was Henderson who sent the messenger last\nnight. Henderson is the author of this strategy or hoax, just as surely\nas he is the person directly behind the effort to secure possession of\nyour lost gold mine.\u201d\n\u201cYou really think so?\u201d Dick interrupted.\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nFor a short interval the mounted policeman sat without speaking. The\nroom had become almost intolerably silent. Turning towards the window,\nDick looked out across a vast snow field, dotted here and there with the\ndark green of spruce and jackpine.\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d suddenly resumed Richardson, \u201cwe\u2019ve come to the very serious\npart of this whole business. I must confess to you that I\u2019m worried\nand\u2014you may be surprised at this admission\u2014afraid!\u201d\n\u201cAfraid!\u201d Dick gasped. \u201cWhy, corporal, I can\u2019t believe that anything\nwould ever frighten you.\u201d\n\u201cSomething has,\u201d confessed Richardson, \u201cand right now I\u2019m frightened so\nbadly that I\u2019m almost inclined to tell you to take off that uniform and\ngo and hunt up your friend, Sandy, for a game of cards.\u201d\nDick started to laugh, but a second look at the brooding, troubled eyes\nof the man opposite, choked his untimely mirth.\n\u201cThis is a serious moment for you, my boy, and I\u2019ll tell you why. The\nmessage received last night was sent to me for a purpose. For reasons,\nas yet not quite clear to us, my presence at Fort Good Faith constitutes\na hindrance to certain plans of Henderson. Henderson wants me to clear\nout\u2014to go away. Why?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m sure I can\u2019t answer that question,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cNeither can I; but I\u2019ve a pretty fair hunch. Fort Good Faith is on the\nonly direct, open, well-travelled trail, leading south to civilization.\nHenderson, let us say, has a valuable shipment of stolen fur. He wants\nto dispose of it. He\u2019s in a hurry to get it south before the spring\nthaw. Every day that he is forced to wait, is time and money lost. He\u2019s\nanxious to start right away, sending out his fur by dog teams, but he\ncan\u2019t do that because I\u2019m here at Fort Good Faith and will be sure to\nseize his shipment.\u201d\n\u201cWhew!\u201d whistled Dick. \u201cHow did you ever contrive to figure that all\nout? It sounds very plausible.\u201d\n\u201cNevertheless,\u201d said Corporal Richardson, \u201cit\u2019s entirely supposition and\nmay be absolutely wrong. I\u2019m hoping that it\u2019s right, because if it\nisn\u2019t, the only other motive that I can think of for inducing me to go\nto Run River is a very sinister one.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cA trap for me to fall into. Somewhere between here and Run River an\nambush\u2014a slinking half-breed or Indian lying in wait to pop me off. A\nscore of mounted policemen have gone that way. It\u2019s an old trick. That\u2019s\nwhy I\u2019m shivering clear down to the bottom of my feet for fear that I\nmay be sending you out to your death. Before God, I wish I had detected\nthat forgery before I ordered Slade to set out in pursuit of the\nscar-faced Indian.\u201d\nDick caught at the side of his chair, his cheeks deathly pale. The room\nseemed to be spinning around in a sort of dark haze, through which he\ncould see the distorted face of Corporal Richardson opposite. When he\nhad recovered somewhat, he observed that the mounted policeman had\nsprung to his feet and was pacing abstractedly back and forth.\n\u201cI can\u2019t\u2014I can\u2019t do it, Dick,\u201d he was muttering. \u201cIt isn\u2019t fair.\nNo\u2014there must be some other way.\u201d\n\u201cBut I want to go,\u201d Dick insisted. \u201cI\u2019ll take good care of myself and\nI\u2019m sure nothing will happen. Anyhow, I\u2019m convinced that your first\nguess was right, that Henderson and the fur thieves are planning to send\nthat shipment.\u201d\n\u201cAnd, on the other hand,\u201d pointed out Corporal Richardson, \u201cboth guesses\nmay be right. It would be a feather in Henderson\u2019s cap if he could\ndispose of the furs and have me put out of the way at one and the same\ntime.\u201d\nFor several moments the two stood, facing each other, both deep in\nthought. Suddenly, Dick\u2019s face lighted and he clapped his hands together\ngleefully.\n\u201cCorporal Richardson, I think possibly I may have hit upon a rather\nsensible plan,\u201d he cried out enthusiastically. \u201cWhy not follow the trail\nto Run River only a short distance, then strike off in an entirely\ndifferent direction, make a wide detour, and come back here to the post.\nHenderson will naturally suppose that I have gone on to Run River. If\nyour first supposition is correct, the dog teams with the fur will start\nto move down this way at once. If your second guess is right, I won\u2019t\nrun into an ambush because I won\u2019t be travelling where they expect me to\ngo.\u201d\n\u201cGood!\u201d exclaimed Richardson. \u201cDick, you\u2019re a young man after my own\nheart. Why in the Dickens didn\u2019t I think of that myself.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019ve done well enough for one day as it is,\u201d Dick rejoined. \u201cAll I\nhope is that you won\u2019t have any trouble capturing the men with the fur\nshipments. Aren\u2019t they apt to put up a fight?\u201d\n\u201cI expect that,\u201d answered the corporal, \u201cbut I\u2019ll have Sandy, young Toma\nand Mr. MacClaren to give me a hand if necessary.\u201d\nBreakfast, a few minutes more of preparation, and Dick and the mounted\npoliceman, the latter now clothed in ordinary civilian garb, slipped\nquietly out of the room and hurried down a long hall in the direction of\nthe side entrance. As they went, the corporal was speaking in hushed\nundertones:\n\u201cIt\u2019s just as well that Sandy doesn\u2019t see you before you go. We haven\u2019t\ntime now for explanations or further delays. Good luck, and God be with\nyou.\u201d\nThey paused for a single hand-clasp before Dick turned to close the door\nafter him, which action Corporal Richardson prevented by sticking out\nhis foot.\n\u201cStraight ahead until you cross the river, then take the first trail to\nyour right,\u201d he called out. \u201cBe careful!\u201d\n\u201cGood-bye,\u201d said Dick without turning his head.\nHis eyes were moist and a sticky lump reposed in his throat. Chin out,\narms swinging at his side, who, indeed, might detect anything amiss\nhere? The trail was ahead, a glimmering stretch of snow, dazzling in the\nearly morning light. Behind him were friends, comfort and a good fire.\nDick plodded on.\nThree hours after he had left Fort Good Faith, Dick Kent, still on the\nRun River trail, had become conscious of an increasing nervousness. The\nsection of country through which he now passed was densely wooded,\nrugged and broken, a treacherous, uninviting prospect. Dick estimated\nthat he had travelled about twelve miles from the post. To continue much\nfarther might prove to be a dangerous business. Even now, as he went\ncautiously forward, he could almost persuade himself that behind every\nclump of bushes, behind almost every tree, there crouched the leering,\nskulking form of one of Henderson\u2019s men.\nIf he followed his original plan, the thing to do presently was to\nstrike off, either to the right or left, and proceed on his way back by\na circuitous route. Tonight he would camp somewhere in the open,\nbuilding himself a shelter of spruce boughs. Tomorrow morning he would\nset out again, moving slowly, making a wide detour, always bearing in\nmind that he must not, under any circumstances, return to Fort Good\nFaith before two days had elapsed. The fur thieves, both he and Corporal\nRichardson had conjectured, would be sure not to delay more than two\ndays before commencing the trek southward with their valuable loot. So\nDick had a good deal of time to waste, before he might hope to rejoin\nhis friends.\nA hundred yards farther on, a turn in the trail brought Dick to a small\ncreek. Frozen, and covered deeply with snow, it traced its way through\nthe dark green of the forest. From where he stood, Dick thought that it\nlooked very much like a white snake, twisting through the trees. It\nwould be great fun, he decided, to leave the trail at this point and\nfollow the creek on a little voyage of exploration, later leaving it, if\nhe found that the general course of the stream ran too far in the wrong\ndirection.\nAlso, by following the creek, there would be a certain advantage to\nhimself, well worth considering. It offered a smooth, hard trail to his\nfeet, with no obstruction from rocks, bramble and bush, as the case\nwould be if he chose to strike out in a more haphazardly course through\nthe forest.\nTurning to the left, Dick slid down the small embankment and commenced\nleisurely to walk along the creek bottom. The snow-crust was so heavy\nthat he paused, kicked off his snowshoes and went forward again,\nwhistling happily. It was a great relief to leave the Run River trail.\nHe would have no fear now of a deadly ambuscade. His heart had ceased\nits disconcerting flip-flops every time he went past a dark screen of\nbrush or a heavy clump of trees. It now functioned in a more healthy\nmanner.\nThe weather was mild, a stream of warm sunshine lighting the open forest\nspaces with a dazzling radiance. The glare of snow was hard on the eyes,\nbut by keeping in the shadow of the large trees, bordering the creek,\nDick contrived to overcome this difficulty.\nIn another hour or two he would pause for his midday meal. The long walk\nhad given him an appetite. He was sorry that Sandy hadn\u2019t come along to\nenjoy the fun. On a day like this it was good to be alive. He grinned as\na rabbit whisked across his path, boy-fashion stooping to pick up a\nchunk of ice to hurl after it. As he straightened up, eyes on the trail\nahead, he was startled by the sight of a thin, white spiral of smoke\ncurling up from the trees, not more than two hundred yards distant.\nDick stopped dead in his tracks, scarcely believing the reality of the\nthing he saw. He was totally unprepared in the emergency and for a\nmoment stood, with bated breath, debating whether he ought to go on or\nturn tail, like a frightened husky, and scamper for cover.\nCorporal Richardson had warned him to keep away from all human kind.\nBefore the experienced eyes of the average frontiersman Dick\u2019s\nmasquerade would be useless. And once the deception had been laid bare,\nno one might tell how soon the news would reach Bear Henderson and his\ngang of outlaws.\nTo add to Dick\u2019s discomfiture, there emerged unexpectedly in plain view\nahead the figure of a man. Half way across the creek the man paused,\nperceiving Dick, and one arm went up in a gesture of friendly\nsalutation.\nIn chagrin, Dick bit his lips. His chance now to get away undetected had\nbeen lost. In less than four hours from the time he had left Fort Good\nFaith, he had committed a most unpardonable blunder. All very well for\nspying eyes to follow his progress along the Run River trail, and Indian\nmessengers to report the news later to Henderson\u2014that was playing the\ngame correctly; but to be discovered here, four miles off the prescribed\nroute, calmly throwing chunks of ice after scurrying rabbits, was an\nentirely different matter. If word of it ever reached the suspicious\noutlaw, Corporal Richardson\u2019s chances of capturing the fur thieves was\nvery slim indeed.\n\u201cThe only thing about me worthy of the name of a mounted policeman is\nthis uniform,\u201d Dick lamented to himself. \u201cI\u2019ve messed up everything.\nI\u2019ll be ashamed to go back and look Corporal Richardson in the face.\nHang the luck!\u201d\nWith a snort of disgust, he strode forward again to meet the waiting\nfigure. There was no turning back now. The thing to do was to swallow\nhis disappointment and endeavor to make the best of it.\nIn a few minutes more he had approached to within twenty feet of the\nman. His moccasins crunched lightly over the snow, but the blinding\nglare of sun in his eyes, together with the dazzling reflection of\nmillions of white crystals underfoot, made it difficult to see. He heard\na voice announce:\n\u201cAh, et eez ze Corporal Richardson himself. I bid you ze welcome,\nmonsieur. You come to ze house. You come\u2014\u2014\u201d\nThe words trailed off suddenly, culminating in an exclamation of\nsurprise. Dick stopped.\n\u201cMy mistake. Et ees not ze good Corporal Richardson at all. Mon Dieu! A\nboy!\u201d\nA prickling sensation ran up and down Dick\u2019s spine. He could see more\nclearly now, and one good look at the man in front of him was more than\nsufficient. Who could mistake those snapping eyes, or that tall, lithe,\nathletic figure? It was the messenger of the night before\u2014the man who\nhad brought the forged letter to Corporal Richardson!\nDuring the first few minutes of bewilderment and surprise, Dick found it\nimpossible to think clearly, but as this feeling wore off, there flashed\nthrough his mind the thought that perhaps this messenger of Henderson\nhad not yet discovered his true identity. The man had seen him only\nonce. Dick presented an entirely different appearance now than he had on\nthe evening before in the poorly lighted room at the post.\n\u201cWhat ees your name, monsieur?\u201d demanded the Frenchman.\n\u201cCorporal Rand,\u201d Dick lied deliberately. \u201cRecently from the mounted\npolice training school at Regina. This is the first time I\u2019ve ever been\nsent out on actual service. I arrived at Fort Good Faith a few hours ago\nto relieve Corporal Richardson, but I discovered he had left under\ninstructions just a few minutes before for a place called Run River.\u201d\nThe Frenchman, to judge from the relieved expression on his face,\nactually believed the story.\n\u201cAnd so you already start on ze friendly patrol?\u201d he inquired politely.\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the quaking young counterfeit, \u201cat first that really\nwasn\u2019t my intention. I had hoped to overtake Corporal Richardson before\nhe had gone very far, but I guess I wasn\u2019t swift enough. There is no\ncatching him!\u201d\nThe messenger grinned at this admission. He surveyed the lanky young\ntenderfoot, bethought him of the prowess of Corporal Richardson on the\ntrail, and doubled up in a paroxysm of mirth. Dick joined willingly in\nthe laugh on himself.\n\u201cMonsieur will become swift himself if he continue to stay in zis\ncountree,\u201d came the encouraging assertion.\n\u201cConditions here are much different than they were in the south,\u201d\nexplained Dick, \u201cbut I imagine that in time I\u2019ll get used to them.\u201d\n\u201cTrue, monsieur, an\u2019 now you are veree tired, I expect.\u201d The messenger\u2019s\ngestures were expressive. \u201cSo you will come with me to my house. You\nwill honor me, monsieur. You will stay an\u2019 rest an\u2019 forget about ze\nhardness of ze trail. Baptiste La Lond ees a veree good friend to ze\nmounted police.\u201d\nDick guessed at the motive underlying the messenger\u2019s efforts at\nhospitality. La Lond was afraid that Dick might decide to return at once\nto Fort Good Faith. It would never do, of course, after getting rid of\none policeman, to have all their plans spoiled by the sudden advent of a\nsecond.\n\u201cI really must return to Fort Good Faith at once,\u201d stated Dick, by way\nof a feeler. \u201cI\u2019ll be stationed there for several days, I imagine.\u201d\n\u201cNo! No! No!\u201d protested La Lond, throwing up his hands in protest. \u201cEt\nees unthinkable. Monsieur is tired after ze hard trek. He must rest an\u2019\neat at my house.\u201d He paused, a smile of eagerness lighting his face. The\ndark eyes snapped. \u201cAn\u2019 now I will tell you ze beeg news, monsieur.\nTonight my veree good friend, Pierre Chapelle, ees hold a dance at hees\nhouse. We will go. What you say, monsieur?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll think about that later,\u201d Dick answered, deciding to play into the\nother\u2019s hands. \u201cI\u2019ll stay here for a while, if you insist. I really am\nvery tired.\u201d\nLa Lond kept up a continuous chatter as he quickly led the way to the\nhouse\u2014a small cabin, nestling in the woods. His host threw open the door\nto permit him to enter a tidy room, at one side of which Dick perceived\na young man of about his own age.\n\u201cMy brother, Phellep,\u201d explained the messenger, pushing his way in and\nclosing the door. \u201cWe live here together. Phellep, take monsieur\u2019s\ncoat.\u201d\nPhillip La Lond rose stiffly, a look of fear on his face. Evidently he\nwas not accustomed to entertaining members of the Royal Mounted and was\nprobably trying to figure out the reason for Dick\u2019s unexpected visit.\nBut if Phillip experienced fear, he was not without company. Dick also\nwas afraid. It had just occurred to him that perhaps the wily messenger\nhad not been in the least deceived by the story, which he, Dick, had\nrelated. Perhaps La Lond had recognized him at the very beginning and\nwas now planning some devilish method of getting rid of him.\nDuring the preparation of the midday meal and for several hours\nafterward, Dick sat, shivering with apprehension. La Lond\u2019s continuous\nflow of conversation fell on unheeding ears. The pressure of the\nrevolver in its holster at Dick\u2019s side was somewhat reassuring, yet what\nmatch was he, a single inexperienced youth, against a seasoned criminal\nlike La Lond. He had probably made a serious mistake in coming here. No\ndoubt, he would be made to pay dearly for his blundering. But in any\nevent, it was up to him now to play the game in a way that would be a\ncredit to the faith imposed in him.\nAnd so with this grim resolve, Dick straightened in his chair,\nendeavoring to conquer the quailing spirit within. La Lond was still\nspeaking:\n\u201cPerhaps monsieur ees veree tired an\u2019 would like to lie down an\u2019 rest,\u201d\nhe inquired solicitously. \u201cWhile you have your leetle nap, Phellep will\ntake ze run out to ze trap-line.\u201d\n\u201cWhat you mean, you deceiving scoundrel,\u201d Dick thought to himself, \u201cis\nthat you are sending Phillip over to Henderson\u2019s camp with the news of\nmy coming.\u201d Then aloud:\n\u201cNo, I\u2019m not as tired as you think. Let\u2019s sit here and rest for a few\nminutes more, then all three of us will go out to examine your traps.\u201d\nThe appearance of animation and the smile of good fellowship suddenly\nand inexplicably disappeared. In their place a dark frown settled over\nthe face of the messenger. For one brief moment he glared at Dick.\n\u201cAll right, eet will be as you wish,\u201d he snapped. Then his eyes met\nDick\u2019s in a look that could not possibly be misunderstood.\nUnconsciously, Dick stiffened in his chair as he read the challenge.\n                     IN THE HOUSE OF THE MESSENGER\nIt was a trying ordeal. Never before, in all Dick\u2019s experience, had time\nseemed to pass so slowly as it did upon that fateful afternoon. The\nmessenger had thrown aside all further attempts at conversation. Head\nbent forward, fingers locked, he feigned a drowsiness, which did not\nfool Dick in the least. Phillip, on the other hand, had grown restless,\ncontinually fidgeting about, or pacing up and down the room like a caged\nlion.\nOccasionally Dick would catch a glimpse of a furtive, frightened glance\ncast in his direction. The younger La Lond, less adept in the school of\ndeception, could not conceal his real feelings.\n\u201cHave you many traps out this winter?\u201d Dick inquired, looking across at\nPhillip.\nThe other mumbled something in reply and went on with his pacing.\nEvidently, he had no desire to commit himself. In the cabin were no\nevidences of traps or trapping, and Dick would have been willing to\nswear on oath that the brothers La Lond not only did not possess such a\nthing as a trap-line, but had other and more profitable ways of making a\nliving.\nTo all appearances, the two brothers lived a life of ease and\nindulgence. The room was nicely furnished, the cupboards were stocked\nwith food, two bottles of Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s rum peeped from behind\nan inadequate curtain. But the thing which struck Dick\u2019s gaze most\nforcibly of all, was a queer-looking object which stood near the\nfireplace. It was a sort of rack, cleverly constructed out of wood, upon\nwhich fairly bristled a miniature arsenal of guns, rifles, knives and\nbelts\u2014the last bulging with cartridges.\nTime and time again, Dick\u2019s eyes returned to a fascinated scrutiny of\nthat rack. There were weapons enough here to supply a small army. Deadly\nlooking revolvers and automatics, shot-guns, 45 and 30-30 caliber\nrepeating rifles, with here and there a long-bladed knife to add\ninterest to the general effect.\nOn the floor, close to the rack, were several packing cases, as yet\nunopened, which probably contained a more complete supply of ammunition.\nThe brothers La Lond might boast of possessing a different weapon for\nalmost every day of the month. So complete were their requirements in\nthis respect, that Dick very quickly jumped to the conclusion that no\ntwo men could possibly find use for them all. It was much more\nreasonable to believe that others, beside the two brothers, had an\ninterest in them, and that this cabin was used as a meeting place\u2014if not\nfor Henderson\u2019s gang itself\u2014for another band equally as bad.\n\u201cI\u2019m about as safe here,\u201d Dick grimaced to himself, \u201cas I would be\nsitting on a case of nitroglycerine. The best thing for me is to get\naway from here as quickly as possible.\u201d\nFrom under his lowered brows, Baptiste La Lond, still feigning sleep,\nwas secretly watching him. Dick felt the scrutiny through some intuitive\nsense, and became more and more uncomfortable. Another worry was caused\nby the younger La Lond, who, during his restless pacing to and fro,\noften passed behind Dick\u2019s chair. It would be very easy, Dick thought,\nfor Phillip to spring forward and pinion his arms behind him. In fact,\nchancing to look across at the former messenger he intercepted a signal,\na sly wink which might, had Dick been less on guard, easily have passed\nunnoticed. Dick turned almost completely around, just as Phillip came\nstealthily forward, preparing for a spring.\n\u201cWhen are we going to visit the trap-line, Phillip?\u201d Dick inquired\nmockingly.\nPhillip stopped suddenly, his face red with anger and embarrassment. He\nturned and beat a hasty retreat, glowering from his corner as Dick rose\nand moved back his chair.\nThen, as never before, Dick realized fully the seriousness of his\nposition. Not for one moment could he relax his vigilance. His life\nitself depended upon extreme caution and, when it became necessary,\nswift action. But even by exercising the utmost care, sooner or later a\nlittle slip on his part might give the treacherous brothers the\nadvantage they craved.\nDick rose to his feet, finally, and addressed the still drowsing\nmessenger.\n\u201cLa Lond,\u201d he stated in a clear, steady voice, \u201cI\u2019ve decided to go at\nonce. I\u2019m afraid it will be impossible for me to neglect my duty. It is\ntoo late in the afternoon to go back to Fort Good Faith, but I think\nI\u2019ll continue on my patrol, returning to the post late tomorrow\nafternoon or the morning following.\u201d\nBaptiste, apparently, was sleeping with one ear open. Almost immediately\nhe sprang to an upright position.\n\u201cNo! No, monsieur!\u201d he protested, waving his arms wildly about. \u201cYou\nmust not go, I beg of you. Stop here for a time longer, monsieur.\u201d\nBut Dick shook his head.\n\u201cI must go,\u201d he declared firmly.\n\u201cBut think, monsieur, eet will be veree late by ze time you get back to\nFort Good Faith.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll not go there tonight, as I just explained to you, and probably not\ntomorrow. I must finish my patrol.\u201d\nLa Lond\u2019s eyes blinked.\n\u201cWhere do you go then?\u201d he asked, evidently much relieved.\n\u201cThat is a matter I have not yet decided,\u201d answered Dick. \u201cI\u2019m not very\nwell acquainted with the country hereabouts, and I\u2019ve been wondering if\nyou\u2019ll be kind enough to direct me to the nearest dwelling.\u201d\n\u201cYes, certainly, monsieur, I will be veree glad.\u201d\nHis sudden great eagerness to assist him did not escape Dick\u2019s\nattention. He knew very well what Baptiste would say, and he had no\nintention of following any suggestions of the bandit as to where he\nshould go. It was easy to guess where the wily messenger would send\nhim\u2014to Henderson\u2019s camp probably, or, if not there, to the house of some\nother crook in the outlaw\u2019s employ.\n\u201cI have a friend who live seex miles from here,\u201d said La Lond. \u201cZe trail\nees veree easy to his house. You must go zere.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, I\u2019ll do as you say,\u201d agreed Dick, \u201cbut first you must be\nvery careful in directing me so that I do not get lost.\u201d\n\u201cEt ees easy to tell, monsieur. You will not get lost,\u201d the messenger\nshrugged his shoulders expressively. \u201cTwo mile down ze leetle creek to\nze first turn to ze right, zen four mile straight ahead to my friend\u2019s\nhouse. Not possibly can you miss et, monsieur.\u201d\n\u201cSo that is where Henderson is camped,\u201d exulted Dick to himself. \u201cThe\ninformation may be valuable to Corporal Richardson.\u201d\n\u201cThank you very much,\u201d he said to Baptiste.\n\u201cEt ees nothing,\u201d La Lond blinked wickedly.\nPhillip had suddenly come to life again and was treading soft-footed\nacross the floor. From the corner of one eye, Dick watched him. Then\nBaptiste shuffled farther to one side, probably with the intention of\npreventing Dick from observing his brother\u2019s sly movements. Not to be\noutdone in this clumsy fashion, Dick took a step in the opposite\ndirection, just in time to see Phillip approach the fireplace and the\nrack of guns close by.\n\u201cYou will find ze place without difficulty,\u201d declared Baptiste in a loud\nvoice, attempting to attract attention to himself. \u201cI tell you,\nmonsieur, my friend he ees veree good host. So joll-ee, so kind,\nmonsieur. You will not regret.\u201d\nDick whipped his revolver from his holster and sprang back just in time.\n\u201cPut down that gun,\u201d he shouted to Phillip. \u201cPut it down, I say!\u201d\nPhillip\u2019s weapon clattered to the floor, and his hands clawed at the\nempty air above his head. At that particular moment he was a very much\nfrightened and surprised young man. His cheeks were white as the drifts\nof snow outside. Baptiste turned, his face crimson with fury.\n\u201cFool! Fool!\u201d he screamed, rushing forward and cuffing the shivering\nculprit about the face and head. Then he turned apologetically to Dick.\n\u201cPardon, monsieur,\u201d he whimpered. \u201cMon Dieu! I am stricken! Ze boy ees\nmad. Perhaps you notice et before, monsieur. I intend to tell you ze\ntruth when first you came, but there ees always ze shame an\u2019 ze pride.\nYou understand me, monsieur.\u201d\n\u201cYes, I understand you,\u201d Dick replied coldly. \u201cBelieve me, I\u2019ll know\nexactly what to expect from you in future. One false move from either\none of you, and I won\u2019t hesitate about using this nice little plaything\nhere in my hands. Stand aside!\u201d\nBaptiste obeyed quickly as Dick backed slowly to the door, opened it and\nwent quickly out. His pulses were pounding and his hand trembled as he\nreturned the gun to its holster.\n\u201cClose shave!\u201d he muttered to himself. \u201cI guess I was pretty lucky that\ntime.\u201d\nAt a dog trot, he hurried along the foot-path, leading to the creek.\n                        FLIGHT THROUGH THE WOODS\nA very alert and still somewhat frightened young man in the person of\nDick Kent hurried across the small creek he had commenced following a\nfew hours before, and struck off through the heavy forest of spruce and\npoplar, which lay between him and Fort Good Faith.\nIn spite of the fact that travelling was now more difficult, Dick made\nremarkably good time. The thought uppermost in his mind was to put as\nmany miles between him and the treacherous Baptiste as possible, to go\non with undiminished speed until darkness came to prevent further\nprogress.\nPursuit would be almost certain, Dick reasoned. The two brothers,\nsmarting under their recent thwarted attempt to take Dick prisoner,\nwould be anxious to even the score.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll be wild,\u201d Dick grinned to himself, \u201cand angry enough to boil me\nin oil if ever I fall in their hands again.\u201d\nHe chuckled as he visualized the picture of Baptiste and Phillip,\nquarreling amongst themselves over the miscarriage of their plans. By\nthe time they had fought out the verbal battle and had got down to the\nreal business of recapturing their slippery guest, Dick hoped he would\nhave several miles to his credit, and would be able to retain the lead.\nHe had been unwise in accepting the hospitality offered by Baptiste, yet\nin so doing he had made several important discoveries. One was that the\ncabin, occupied by the two brothers, afforded a meeting place for the\nband of criminals, then infesting the country, and a second, that either\nHenderson himself or other members of the band could be found in the\nplace to which Baptiste had directed him.\nDick pondered over this information as he hurried on. He recalled what\nCorporal Richardson had told him regarding the operations of a large\ncriminal organization there in the North, and he was quite sure the\nmounted police would welcome any news of their movements or places of\nabode. He remembered also what Richardson had said about the connection\nbetween the fur thieves and Henderson\u2019s outlaws. The corporal believed\nthat they were one and the same\u2014all under the leadership of Henderson.\nIf this supposition were correct, then the La Lond cabin was just as apt\nto be a meeting place or rendezvous for the men who had stolen the map\nof the lost mine, as for the fur thieves themselves.\nSooner or later, reasoned Dick, the scar-faced Indian would show up at\none or the other of the two places of which he, Dick, had knowledge.\nProbably right now the possessor of the map was somewhere in that very\nneighborhood. Having escaped Malemute Slade, what would be more natural\nthan that he should immediately proceed to Henderson\u2019s camp to report\nhis good fortune.\nDick paused abruptly at the thought, his pulses pounding with\nexcitement. In a high state of tension he strode forward, brushed the\nsnow from a small, broken stump, and sat down to think it all out.\n\u201cI\u2019ve a good notion to throw caution to the winds,\u201d he confided to\nhimself, gulping a handful of snow, \u201cand go right back at once. They\nwon\u2019t be expecting me. Anyway, it\u2019ll be dark by the time I return to the\nLa Lond cabin. It will be comparatively safe then. I\u2019ll reconnoitre a\nbit, find out if Baptiste and Phillip are still there, and, if they\u2019re\nnot, I\u2019ll slip over to Henderson\u2019s. I\u2019ve just got a hunch that the\nscar-faced Indian has returned.\u201d\nDick had never been placed in a similar position, and found it very\ndifficult to decide. Reason told him that it would be the height of\nfolly to embark upon any such enterprise. But in Dick\u2019s veins was the\nhot, adventurous blood of youth. Here was a chance in a thousand to win\nback the ground which had been lost. He would find the scar-faced Indian\nand endeavor to recover the map.\nHe had risen to his feet for the express purpose of proceeding to carry\nout his foolhardy plan, when quite unexpectedly there rang in his ears a\nformer statement of Corporal Richardson:\n\u201cYou\u2019d make a mighty poor soldier, Dick.... A soldier\u2019s first duty is\nobedience.\u201d\nWas this obedience? He had been warned to keep away from all human\nhabitation, to be careful not to expose himself needlessly\u2014to shun men!\nAnd now\u2014\u2014 A slow flush of shame mounted to his forehead. Hang it all,\nwhat an imbecile he was. So far he had obeyed none of the commands of\nhis superior. He had\u2014or very nearly had\u2014violated them all. At every\nturn, instead of doing the right thing, he had done the wrong thing. He\nwas not worthy of Corporal Richardson\u2019s or any other man\u2019s trust. Even\nSandy, younger than he, nor half as strong physically, would never have\nbeen guilty of such willful disobedience.\nIt was a more sober and earnest young man who faced resolutely about and\ncontinued the trek eastward towards Fort Good Faith. The silence of the\ngreat forest lay about him. Shadows had lengthened, the sun had slipped\ndown out of sight, the cooler breath of evening stung color in his\ncheeks and tickled his nostrils with tiny particles of frost.\n\u201cI\u2019ll go on for an hour before stopping to make camp for the night,\u201d he\ndecided.\nHe felt more tired now as he resumed his lonely and monotonous journey.\nCrossing a narrow valley, thickly studded with clumps of red willow and\nsaskatoon, he commenced scrambling up a sharp incline, until finally he\nreached a wide plateau. Here, except for an occasional stunted\njack-pine, there were no trees. Huge boulders and queer looking rocks,\nmost of them covered thickly with snow, gave a weird appearance to the\nplace.\nThe wind had full sweep across the plateau. It was bitterly cold here,\nso cold indeed that even the heavy fur jacket and parka, worn by the\nmounted police, failed to keep out the insidious penetrating frost. Dick\nbeat his arms against his shivering body and stumbled on across that\ndesolate plain, anxiously scanning the darkening prospect ahead. He\nhoped that he would come soon to the more friendly forest, where, when a\nstop became necessary, he could gather wood and kindle a fire. But out\nthere ahead he could see nothing except a long and weary stretch of\ncountry covered with snow and bristling with rocks, a land indescribably\nlonely and terrible just then in the rapidly gathering darkness.\nFully an hour passed before he had traversed the plateau and had come\nagain to the welcome woodland. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started\ndown the slope, faintly outlined in the gloom ahead. It was so steep\nhere that Dick had difficulty in keeping his balance. He slid, stumbled,\nnow and again reaching out for a young sapling to aid him in his\nsomewhat precipitous descent. He had almost reached the bottom when he\nfelt himself being thrown violently forward, falling in a crumpled heap\nat the foot of a large spruce. A stab of pain in his right ankle, and\nDick momentarily lost consciousness.\nHe realized presently what had happened. The thong of the snowshoe on\nhis right foot had become caught in a snag of brush and had tripped him.\nHis fall had been heavy, but Dick did not become aware of the full\nextent of his injury until he attempted to rise.\nIt was useless. His right ankle throbbed with a sickening pain. A bad\nfracture or torn ligaments\u2014he was not sure which\u2014made it absolutely\nimpossible for him to put any weight at all upon that foot.\nA sudden, horrible fear overcame him. In the first moment of weakness, a\nterror-stricken sob broke from his lips. Here he was absolutely\nhelpless, without wood, water or fire, without shelter of any kind, in\nweather so bitterly cold that in a few hours time, lying there inactive,\nhe would be frozen as stiff as a block of ice.\nNot entirely to Dick\u2019s discredit, he cried like a child, one arm flung\nout, the other pillowed under him. He lay there, his body shaking with\nill-suppressed grief. Face blanched with terror, he sat up finally\nstaring about him with tragic eyes. Everywhere around was deep and utter\nsilence. To all appearances, there was no life anywhere in that dead\nwaste of snow, in that land of bitter, penetrating cold.\nAnd then, suddenly, far away, he heard the familiar wolf-cry. Long and\nmournful it was, and Dick shivered, remembering a former occasion when\nhe, Sandy and Corporal Richardson and Toma had very nearly given their\nlives to a hungry pack in the vicinity of the Big Smoky. If there was\nanything on earth which Dick feared, hated and despised, it was a wolf.\nWhenever he heard the eerie cry of this species of human hunters in the\nNorth, his hair fairly bristled from panic and indignation. In his\npresent predicament, it was the very thing required to put strength and\ndetermination in his heart. Groaning in the effort, he rose dizzily to\nhis knees and commenced to scoop away the snow with his hands.\nBy dint of hard work, he had soon cleared a fairly wide space around\nhim. The exercise had warmed his body and kept his mind from dwelling\ntoo much on the seriousness of his plight. From a bush nearby, he\ngathered an armful of twigs, and from a dead, fallen tree, just beyond\nthe big spruce, sufficient dry bark and moss to start his fire. In an\nhour\u2019s time, considerably cheered and comforted, he was brewing tea over\na roaring blaze.\n\u201cThings are not as bad as I thought,\u201d Dick was forced to admit to\nhimself a few minutes later as he gulped down a cup of hot tea and ate\nsparingly from his supply of emergency rations. \u201cAs long as I can crawl\naround on my hands and knees, I can manage somehow to gather enough wood\nto keep myself from freezing. By eating very little and drinking plenty\nof snow water, I can stay here for a week if necessary. After that\u2014\u2014\u201d\nWhat would happen after that, Dick did not dare even to conjecture. The\nthought was too appalling. But surely his ankle would become strong\nagain before a week had elapsed.\n\u201cIt\u2019s only a bad sprain,\u201d he endeavored to reassure himself. \u201cPerhaps\neven by tomorrow I\u2019ll be able to hobble around.\u201d\nHe settled back with a smile on his face and stretched out full length\nbefore the blaze. Worn out, mentally and physically, he soon drowsed\nlightly, only to be awakened by the wolf-cry again, a bloodcurdling\nhowl, which pierced the deep silence in the forest space around him.\n\u201cGreat Caesar!\u201d sputtered Dick, sitting bolt upright and staring out\nbalefully in the intense darkness. \u201cTroubles never come singly. If I had\nmy hands on the neck of that brute, I\u2019d choke him into silence and\ninsensibility.\u201d\nFor a brief space he stared, then abruptly his eyes opened wide in\nastonishment. Out of the velvety blackness, beyond the circle of light\nmade by his campfire, there emerged two fur-coated figures carrying\nrifles. Slowly, confidently, they came on\u2014in their approach exercising\nnot even the slightest caution.\nDick turned his head indifferently and gazed quietly into the fire. What\ndid he care for the brothers La Lond now? As well die at their hands as\nto stay here to be eaten by wolves. He did not even look up as the\ntreacherous pair stepped forward within the narrow space he had cleared\nwith his own hands.\n\u201cDick!\u201d shouted a familiar voice.\nIn wonderment, almost in a stupor, Dick looked up into the smiling,\njoyful faces of Sandy and Toma.\n\u201cHow,\u201d inquired Dick in bewilderment, \u201cdid you ever manage to find me\nhere?\u201d\nSandy sat down and put one arm around Dick\u2019s shoulders.\n\u201cYou miserable, deceiving old rascal,\u201d he threatened, \u201cif I could have\ngot my hands on you this morning, when I discovered the scurvy trick you\nand Corporal Richardson had played upon me, you\u2019d never be able to walk\nover another trail again. I really mean it, Dick. I think it was the\nmost unfriendly act you have ever committed. If I wasn\u2019t just naturally\npatient and forgiving by nature, you and I would never have seen each\nother again.\u201d\n\u201cWhat would have happened to you?\u201d grinned Dick.\nBefore replying, Sandy winked broadly and good-humoredly at Toma.\n\u201cI had a blamed good notion to go right out and join forces with the\nHenderson gang. They need a lot of new blood now that Corporal\nRichardson has taken so many of \u2019em into camp. Four dog teams and eight\nmen! Just think of it, Dick! He captured the whole outfit\u2014lock, stock\nand barrel\u2014single-handed.\u201d\n\u201cAnd the stolen fur?\u201d Dick questioned breathlessly.\n\u201cHe got that too,\u201d answered Sandy, glad of the chance to tell the story.\n\u201cBut first of all, I\u2019m going to start at the beginning. Three hours\nafter you set out over the Run River trail, Toma and I, who were looking\nout of the window and suspecting nothing, saw the four dog teams coming\ninto view. There is nothing unusual about a dog team up here in this\ncountry, so we weren\u2019t much interested. I had just turned away from the\nwindow to start another search for you and the corporal\u2014somehow, I\nhadn\u2019t gotten over the idea that you were skulking somewhere about the\nplace\u2014when Toma poked me in the ribs. Dick, I wish you could have seen\nit. It all happened so suddenly that no one knew just what was up.\u201d\n\u201cYes! Yes!\u201d said Dick a little impatiently. \u201cGo on, Sandy. What\nhappened?\u201d\n\u201cThey were just opposite us, travelling along merrily, when a man\nslipped out of the brush on the far side of the trail, holding something\nin each hand. They must have been startled all right. Corporal\nRichardson told me afterward that they were taken completely by\nsurprise. At any rate,\u201d Sandy went on, \u201cthe dog teams stopped and eight\nmen stepped forward with their arms in the air. It was a regular\nhold-up.\u201d\nSandy paused for breath.\n\u201cBoth Toma and I very naturally jumped to the conclusion that the person\nwho had committed the hold-up was a bandit, probably in the employ of\nHenderson. So we grabbed our rifles and hurried out to help. We ran\nstraight over in the direction of the dog teams, firing our rifles as we\nwent and yelling like mad.\u201d\n\u201cYou see,\u201d explained Sandy, \u201cwe thought that the bandit would become\nfrightened and start running away. But,\u201d admitted the young Scotchman, a\nlittle shamefacedly, \u201che didn\u2019t run. He stood right there like a statue,\nkeeping those men covered. All the time we kept getting closer and\ncloser, until finally Toma poked me in the ribs again and told me to\nstop firing\u2014that the bandit was Corporal Richardson himself.\u201d\nIn spite of the discomfort and pain he endured, Dick roared with\nlaughter.\n\u201cWhat did Corporal Richardson say?\u201d he asked.\nSandy smiled at the recollection.\n\u201cWhen we came up, he stared at us coldly.\n\u201c\u2018If you two young fools have finished with your celebration,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018you\u2019ll please take charge of these dog teams while the rest of us\ngentlemen retire to the post.\u2019\n\u201cThat\u2019s all there is to tell you, I guess, except that Corporal\nRichardson locked the men up in a big room at Fort Good Faith and that\nwe stored all the stolen fur in the company\u2019s warehouse. Afterwards,\nwhen the corporal had cooled off and was a little more friendly towards\nme, he told me where you had gone and about the plan you had employed to\ndeceive Henderson\u2019s spies.\u201d\n\u201cI tell you, Dick,\u201d Sandy went on, \u201cyou can\u2019t imagine how much the\ncorporal likes you. He seemed worried stiff for fear that something\nmight happen to you. Finally, after we had bothered him a lot, he gave\nus permission to go out and try to find you.\u201d\n\u201cYou found me all right,\u201d Dick was forced to admit, \u201cbut I don\u2019t see how\nyou ever managed to do it.\u201d\n\u201cIt was easy enough\u2014for Toma. He found your tracks where you left the\nRun River trail and we followed them up to a house.\u201d\n\u201cThe house of La Lond,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know whose house it was. It was almost dark when we got there.\nMy plan was to walk right up, knock at the door and ask for you, but\nToma thought differently.\u201d\n\u201cBad men him live there,\u201d interrupted Toma, moving closer to the fire.\n\u201cI know him Baptiste for bad fellow. Me see that man many times an\u2019 no\nlike at all. I \u2019fraid mebbe he kill you an\u2019 hide body. So I listen at\ndoor. I find out something.\u201d\n\u201cWhat did you find out?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cMe find out you been there an\u2019 go \u2019way again. Baptiste very mad an\u2019\ntalk in loud voice. He say I kill him that fellow bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye. Drink\nmuch rum an\u2019 shout all time. No have trouble to listen.\u201d\nSandy started to speak but Dick motioned to him to be silent. He was\nanxious to learn what the young Indian had found out, and wanted to hear\nthe story from the lips of Toma himself.\n\u201cDid he mention the name of Henderson at all?\u201d he inquired.\nToma nodded. \u201cYes,\u201d he answered, \u201chim talk about Henderson too. Him say\nhe go see Henderson pretty soon. Then get scouting party an\u2019 find you\nwhere you hide in the woods. Talk like Henderson no live very far away.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what I wanted to make sure of,\u201d Dick explained to Sandy,\n\u201cand I\u2019m almost certain that I know where the outlaw\u2019s camp is.\u201d\n\u201cDid you see the camp?\u201d asked Sandy.\nDick shook his head. \u201cNo, I didn\u2019t see it. Baptiste told me where it\nwas.\u201d\n\u201cBut why did he do that? I should think he\u2019d want to keep its location a\nsecret.\u201d\n\u201cHe wanted me to go there and directed me to the place because he knew\nthat the moment I walked into the outlaw\u2019s camp Henderson would either\nkill me at once or make me his prisoner.\u201d\nIn a few words Dick related his experiences at the house of the Brothers\nLa Lond, of his escape, and, finally, of the accident that had befallen\nhim.\n\u201cYou\u2019re hurt!\u201d cried Sandy, suddenly jumping up. \u201cWhy, Dick, you should\nhave told us before.\u201d\nThe faces of Sandy and Toma were very grave as they stooped to untie his\nmoccasin and examine the injured foot.\n\u201cVery bad sprain,\u201d said Toma, straightening up. \u201cI help you fix him, so\nafter while you feel very much better. Sandy,\u201d he ordered, turning to\nhis still gaping companion, \u201cyou start build shelter right away. You, me\nwork all night mebbe to make nice warm place. Dick stay here with bad\nfoot one, two days, I think.\u201d\nIn less than an hour, his foot properly attended to, Dick was resting\nmore easily. Around him a shelter was being hurriedly constructed. He\ncould hear Sandy and the young Indian guide walking back and forth,\ngathering huge arm-loads of brush, spruce boughs and moss, occasionally\ncalling out to each other in bantering tones. The fire, which had been\nreplenished, blazed brightly in front of the opening of the shelter. Its\nwelcome heat succeeded in making Dick drowsy and presently he fell\nasleep.\nWhen he awoke on the following morning, he rubbed his eyes in\nastonishment. All about him was the green, circular wall of a large\ntepee, so closely woven together with spruce boughs and moss that it was\nimpossible to see even the faintest shaft of light coming through from\nthe outside. The opening had been hung with a small blanket, but, what\nastonished Dick more than anything else, was that the fire, which had\nformerly been outside, was now inside the shelter. Smoke from an\narm-load of burning branches rose straight up, escaping through a vent\nat the top of the tepee.\nThe shelter was warm and cozy, fragrant with the smell of spruce. Over\nthe fire a small kettle of snow water was bubbling merrily. Dick threw\nback the four-point Hudson\u2019s Bay blanket, which covered him, and clapped\nhis hands with delight. What a miracle Toma and Sandy had wrought during\nthe night! They had worked like Trojans to make things pleasant and\ncomfortable for him.\nHe wondered where they were now. Except for the crackling of the fire\nand the sound of the water boiling in the kettle, there was nothing\nwhatsoever to break the deep hush of that winter morning. He sat up and\nendeavored to examine his ankle. It felt better, he thought. There was\nno pain worth mentioning, and he was quite sure the swelling had gone\ndown.\n\u201cI don\u2019t mind staying here in the least,\u201d he informed himself, twisting\naround and making his way over to the inviting blaze. \u201cIt will be great\nsport to live in a green wigwam like this with Sandy and Toma for\ncompany.\u201d\nA dull tramping in the snow outside, caused him to raise his head and\nturn his eyes toward the opening. The blanket was pushed aside and Sandy\nappeared, crawling on hands and knees, trailing his rifle and a large\nrabbit. Toma, who entered immediately behind, had two rabbits and a\nptarmigan. The eyes of the two youthful hunters glowed from the\nexcitement and pleasure of their successful foray.\n\u201cWe eat good breakfast,\u201d Toma announced, holding out the rabbits and\nptarmigan for Dick\u2019s inspection.\n\u201cWhen did you wake up?\u201d Sandy wanted to know. \u201cThought you\u2019d sleep for\nan hour yet.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s wonderful!\u201d Dick voiced his appreciation and nearly choked in the\neffort. \u201cYou fellows are certainly two good pals. When I woke up I could\nscarcely believe my eyes.\u201d\n\u201cIt took us nearly all night,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose I could ever\nhave done it alone. Of course, I don\u2019t need to tell you that Toma was\nthe architect.\u201d\n\u201cMy people build \u2019em like that many times,\u201d Toma modestly explained.\n\u201cPlenty warm even when weather very cold. See many like that on Indian\ntrap-line.\u201d\n\u201cHow long were you away hunting?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cAbout an hour, I think. Game seems to be fairly plentiful around here.\nAnd, O Dick!\u2014\u2014\u201d Sandy paused as he turned somewhat eagerly toward his\nfriend, \u201ca mile from here, just across a narrow ravine, Toma came across\nsnowshoe tracks. He says they were made by a white man.\u201d\n\u201cBaptiste or Phillip,\u201d guessed Dick, shivering a little.\nToma shook his head.\n\u201cMe no think so. Tracks at least two days old. Some white man he go by\nhere day before yesterday.\u201d\n\u201cBut how,\u201d sceptically inquired Dick, \u201cdo you know it was a white man?\nSurely you\u2019re not able to tell that. Are the tracks so very much\ndifferent?\u201d\nThe Indian guide laughed as he nodded his head in the affirmative.\n\u201cEasy to tell. White man no use \u2019em snow shoes same like Indian. Tracks\nturn out. Indian tracks go straight ahead.\u201d\n\u201cI think there\u2019s something in it,\u201d Sandy volunteered, \u201cbecause after\nToma had told me, while we were still out there on the trail, I noticed\nthat Toma\u2019s tracks were different from mine.\u201d\nAlthough still a little sceptical, Dick was sufficiently well acquainted\nwith Toma and his ability and prowess, not to doubt that the Indian lad\nmight be correct in his surmise. Very rarely, indeed, did Toma err in\nmatters of this kind. A natural-born tracker and scout, versed in the\nways of the wilderness, he had often startled his two young friends by\nhis almost unlimited knowledge of wood-lore.\n\u201cAnd that isn\u2019t all,\u201d Sandy\u2019s voice broke the lull in their\nconversation. \u201cWe discovered something else besides those tracks. I\nalmost hate to tell you, Dick.\u201d\n\u201cWhat was it?\u201d his friend asked wonderingly.\n\u201cBlood stains!\u201d Sandy enlightened him. \u201cThe man\u2019s tracks were sprinkled\nhere and there with tiny red spots. He must have been hurt or wounded,\nDick. It makes me shiver to think about it.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps he was carrying some animal he had killed,\u201d suggested Dick.\nAgain Toma shook his head.\n\u201cNo,\u201d he stated with conviction, \u201cman hurt very bad. Him not go many\nmiles like that. Toma feel plenty sorry for that man.\u201d\nIn alarm, Dick looked from one to the other of his two friends. A hurt\nor wounded man out there on the trail alone\u2014it made him feel weak and\nsick himself. He recalled his own helplessness and horror on the\nprevious night, when he had fallen and sprained his ankle.\n\u201cIsn\u2019t there something we can do?\u201d he finally blurted out. \u201cJust think\nwhat it may mean, Sandy.\u201d\nSandy did not answer. Neither did Toma. The three boys were looking at\neach other now in a gloomy silence.\n\u201cYou mustn\u2019t forget your own condition, Dick,\u201d Sandy reminded him. \u201cWe\ncan\u2019t leave you here alone, can we?\u201d\n\u201cOne of you could go after we\u2019ve had breakfast. Why couldn\u2019t you, Toma?\u201d\nHe turned appealingly to the Indian guide. \u201cWhat do you say?\u201d\nTo Dick\u2019s surprise, Toma drew back and raised one arm in a gesture of\nprotest.\n\u201cWhat you think poor Toma make crazy altogether?\u201d he inquired. \u201cSandy\nan\u2019 me both stay here to fight \u2019em Henderson\u2019s men when they come. What\ngood you think just one against two, three, four\u2014mebbe six, ten men?\u201d he\ndemanded hotly.\nIt was, indeed, a poser. Dick sat with his head in his hands and Sandy\nturned wearily away to commence the preparation of breakfast.\nBreakfast was over and three very sober young men sat down to what Sandy\ndescribed as a council of war.\n\u201cWe must make some sort of a plan right away,\u201d he stated. \u201cFirst thing\nwe know Henderson will be here to catch us napping.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s brow wrinkled at the very unpleasant thought.\n\u201cNow my proposal is that each one of us make a suggestion. Then the\nthree of us will consider these suggestions one by one and try to pick\nflaws in them. Maybe out of the three suggestions we can build some sort\nof working plan.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, you\u2019re number one,\u201d smiled Dick. \u201cWhat is your plan?\u201d\nSandy flushed with embarrassment.\n\u201cLook here, Dick, not so fast. Give me a little time please. You know\nblamed well that I haven\u2019t had an opportunity to think yet.\u201d\n\u201cWhat about you, Toma?\u201d\nThe Indian guide stirred uneasily and licked his dry lips. From his look\nof detachment, it was quite evident that he had been deeply engrossed in\nhis own thoughts for quite a long time. He stared blankly at Dick.\n\u201cWhat you mean?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cWe\u2019re trying to think of some way to fool Henderson,\u201d Dick patiently\nexplained. \u201cWhat are we going to do, Toma? We can\u2019t sit here all day\njust waiting for something to happen.\u201d\n\u201cOnly way I think of is for me go down trail in direction La Lond\u2019s\nhouse. Bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye when Henderson come, I hide in bush and shoot rifle.\nHenderson stop. He not know what to do. Mebbe he think man in bush is\nyou, Dick. He come after me an\u2019 I keep shoot all time, but all time me I\nrun very fast. No can catch. I keep lead him away more all time from\nthis camp.\u201d\nDick and Sandy clapped their hands enthusiastically.\n\u201cVery good,\u201d Dick complimented Toma. \u201cYour plan\u2019s so original that I\ndon\u2019t think we can improve on it.\u201d\n\u201cI can improve on it,\u201d boasted Sandy. \u201cYou see, Dick there is one weak\nspot in his plan. Henderson will be sure to catch sight of Toma, no\nmatter how careful he is about hiding and shooting from cover. And once\nhe sees him, he\u2019ll know right away that it isn\u2019t you\u2014because you\u2019re\nwearing the uniform of the mounted police.\u201d\n\u201cYou right,\u201d admitted Toma. \u201cI never thought of that.\u201d\n\u201cAnd so you think that Henderson will realize right away that Toma isn\u2019t\nthe man he wants, and will keep right on coming?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cThat\u2019s it,\u201d Sandy answered. \u201cToma may check him, but he won\u2019t stop him.\nHenderson will very likely divide his force, sending part of his men\nafter Toma and the rest down here. It won\u2019t be very difficult for him to\nfollow the trail the three of us have made.\u201d\n\u201cNo, of course, it won\u2019t,\u201d agreed Dick.\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one way to make Toma\u2019s plan absolutely water-tight and\nfool-proof,\u201d continued Sandy, \u201cand it\u2019s as simple as A, B, C.\u201d\n\u201cProve it,\u201d challenged Dick. \u201cI guess I don\u2019t understand you.\u201d\n\u201cEasy enough,\u201d Sandy enlightened him. \u201cPut your uniform on Toma. That\nlittle trick will work just as well now as it did in the case of the fur\nthieves.\u201d\n\u201cWhew!\u201d Dick whistled. \u201cHonestly, Sandy, there are moments when you show\nindications of real genius. At other times you\u2019re so hopelessly imbecile\nthat it makes me tremble to think what will become of you.\u201d\n\u201cEasy there!\u201d ordered the person both complimented and accused, throwing\na chip at Dick\u2019s head. \u201cYou and Toma are nearly the same size. The\nuniform will fit well enough for our purposes. If there aren\u2019t any more\nsuggestions, we\u2019d better get busy.\u201d\nIn a few minutes more the uniform had again changed hands. Toma put it\non with a feeling of awe and reverence, that was only natural in one\nwho, since infancy, had been taught to respect and revere the men who\nwore it.\n\u201cYou look fine, Toma,\u201d said Dick, \u201cand I haven\u2019t the least doubt but\nthat you\u2019ll make a much better mounted policeman than I did.\u201d\n\u201cI try be better,\u201d Toma stated simply, which assertion brought a laugh\nfrom Sandy.\n\u201cBefore you go,\u201d smiled Dick, \u201cI think we\u2019d better have some sort of an\nunderstanding. How far are you going down the trail before you stop to\nwait for Henderson, and how long will you wait there if he doesn\u2019t come\nalong right away?\u201d\n\u201cI go down trail about four miles,\u201d answered the guide, \u201can\u2019 wait until\ndark. Him no come at all if no come by dark, I think.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t think so either,\u201d Sandy cut in. \u201cYou\u2019d better not stay out too\nlate, Toma. Return as quickly as you can after night comes.\u201d\n\u201cAnother thing,\u201d Dick spoke again, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t fire at Henderson\u2019s men\nuntil after they had fired at you. Show yourself from a safe distance\nand let them do most of the shooting. Besides, you know as well as I do,\nToma, that a real mounted policeman never fires from ambush.\u201d\nWith the words of his friends still ringing in his ears, Toma crawled\nthrough the narrow opening and a moment later was gone. Dick and Sandy\nsat motionless.\n\u201cI\u2019d like to be in his shoes,\u201d Sandy finally broke forth, \u201cand I\u2019m sorry\nnow that I didn\u2019t go along.\u201d\n\u201cThat would be foolish. Toma can look after himself.\u201d\n\u201cBut I feel like a fool sitting here and doing nothing.\u201d\n\u201cGo out and hunt for some more rabbits,\u201d suggested Dick. \u201cYou don\u2019t need\nto bother about me. I feel that I am perfectly safe here now. I have a\nlot of confidence in Toma and the plan he and you so cleverly worked\nout. Why don\u2019t you go, Sandy?\u201d\nSandy opened his clasp-knife and commenced to whittle on a stick.\n\u201cI would, only I hate to leave you here alone. It would be pretty\nlonesome for you just sitting or lying here with nothing to occupy your\nmind.\u201d\n\u201cI have plenty of things to think about,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cSo don\u2019t let\nthat worry you. Why don\u2019t you go?\u201d he repeated.\n\u201cIf I do go, it won\u2019t be on a hunting trip.\u201d\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\nSandy threw down the stick and put away his hunting knife. He rose to\nhis feet.\n\u201cDo you know, Dick, I keep thinking about that man out there\u2014the one who\nwas hurt. Do you suppose that\u2014that something has happened to him?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about him too,\u201d Dick confessed. \u201cIt\u2019s terrible,\nisn\u2019t it, Sandy?\u201d He paused as he drew himself to a more upright\nposition. \u201cBut I imagine,\u201d he continued hopelessly, \u201cthat he\u2019s beyond\nhelp now. Toma said that he wouldn\u2019t go very far.\u201d\nSandy strode forward and put one hand on Dick\u2019s head.\n\u201cDo you suppose, Dick\u2014\u2014\u201d he began, then paused abruptly.\nSmiling, Dick looked up.\n\u201cI know what you are going to say, Sandy. You feel that it\u2019s our duty to\ntry and do something. But you are hesitating on my account. You\u2019d like\nto follow those tracks and see if you can find the man.\u201d Dick seized\nSandy\u2019s hand and gave it a re-assuring squeeze. \u201cIt\u2019s exactly what I\nhoped you\u2019d want to do. Hop to it, Sandy.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll return before dark,\u201d promised the other, his face lighting up with\npleasure.\n\u201cDon\u2019t get lost,\u201d cautioned Dick.\n\u201cOf course, I won\u2019t. I have a better sense of direction than I used to\nhave, and I\u2019m a lot more careful too.\u201d\nSandy stooped down and picked up his shoulder-pack. He was eager now and\nworked hurriedly assembling his kit.\n\u201cTake two or three days\u2019 rations with you,\u201d Dick ordered. \u201cYou never can\ntell what will happen.\u201d\nSandy complied willingly enough. He turned to bid Dick good-bye.\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry about me,\u201d he said cheerfully. \u201cI\u2019ll be all right. I\u2019ll\nreturn safe and sound, depend on that.\u201d\nThen, almost before he realized it, Dick was alone. He sat staring at\nthe green, thatched walls of his little prison, disconsolately kicking,\nwith his uninjured foot, at the tangled mat of moss and dead leaves at\nthe side of his bed. Hours would pass before either of his two friends\nwould return. The day would drag itself along, seeming never to come to\nan end. If there was only something he could do to make time slip away\nmore quickly.\nFor an hour or more, he cleaned and polished his rifle, pausing now and\nagain to crawl over and put a stick of wood on the fire. By carefully\nconserving the wood, which Toma and Sandy had gathered on the previous\nnight, there would be sufficient to last for quite a long time.\nA little later, putting down his rifle, his gaze fell upon the two\nrabbits and ptarmigan Toma had brought in. The one rabbit, which Sandy\nhad killed, they had eaten for breakfast. Securing his hunting knife,\nDick worked his way across the tepee and commenced to skin and dress the\ngame they had been so fortunate in obtaining.\nHaving completed this task, Dick went to the opening for snow, which he\nmelted in a kettle over the fire. It was necessary to make many of these\ntrips before he had sufficient water for drinking purposes and for the\nrabbit-stew he had decided upon. Thus occupied, he contrived to keep\nhimself in a cheerful frame of mind. Staying here alone was not really\nas monotonous as he had expected.\nAfter he had prepared a light lunch and had drunk several cups of tea,\nhe retired to his bunk and soon fell asleep. When he awoke, it was with\nthe consciousness of being chilly and uncomfortable. Turning his head,\nhe perceived, with a start, that the fire had gone out. It was now quite\ndark inside the tepee, and looking up he was astonished to see several\nstars peeping down at him through the smoke-vent.\n\u201cI must have slept a long time,\u201d thought Dick, scrambling to a sitting\nposition and preparing to crawl over to rekindle the fire.\nIn a few minutes a bright blaze sprang up under his hand and in a few\nminutes more, piling on brush and sticks, he had driven the chill from\nthe room. He was in the act of placing the rabbit-stew over the fire,\nwhen the blanket, covering the opening, was pushed unceremoniously aside\nand Toma entered.\n\u201cHello, you old rascal!\u201d shouted Dick. \u201cThis is luck. You made a quick\ntrip of it.\u201d\nToma grinned broadly as he approached the fire and commenced to remove\nhis parka and coat.\n\u201cPlan work fine,\u201d he informed him. \u201cMe fool Henderson good an\u2019 plenty, I\nguess. Make \u2019em run all through woods try and catch me. Shoot plenty of\nrifles an\u2019 make big noise. Bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye I give \u2019em slip an\u2019 come back\nhere.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re a trump!\u201d exulted his hearer. \u201cI knew you could do it.\u201d\n\u201cHenderson him plenty sick by now,\u201d chuckled Toma. \u201cGo home like mad\ngrizzly \u2019cause he no find mounted police.\u201d\nThe Indian guide stood for a moment, warming his hands over the fire.\n\u201cWhere Sandy go?\u201d he suddenly asked.\nDick flushed slightly under the direct, searching scrutiny. The truth\nwas, he felt a little guilty about Sandy. After all, perhaps, he should\nnot have permitted his friend to go.\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you about it,\u201d said Dick, which he proceeded to do, wondering\nwhat Toma would say.\nWhen Dick had concluded, the guide stood for several minutes silently\ncontemplating the leaping flames at his feet. His face was\nexpressionless\u2014neither sober nor gay.\n\u201cNo like,\u201d he declared finally, shaking his head. \u201cNo like Sandy go away\nalone. Him more young me an\u2019 you. Him little fellow. No stand much.\nMebbe get lost.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Dick, endeavoring to reassure the young Indian and likewise\nhimself, \u201cSandy will be perfectly all right. We don\u2019t need to worry.\u201d\nBut, as a matter of fact, both of them did worry. They ate supper in a\ngloomy mood, straining their ears for the sound of a familiar step. The\nhours passed, and still Sandy did not appear. When midnight came, Dick,\nnearly frantic, raised his head from his pillow, deciding to sit up.\n\u201cHe no come yet,\u201d said Toma in a hushed voice.\nSomewhere, fairly close at hand, they heard the howling of a wolf.\nIt was the only sound which, for many long hours, had broken the deep\nsilence of the forest.\n                        SANDY PLAYS A LONE HAND\n\u201cWake up! Wake up!\u201d\nA light was shining in Dick\u2019s face and he was being shaken roughly by\nthe shoulders. Something had fallen near the bed\u2014a dull clatter of some\nsort. Then a voice raised slightly, then more voices, and, presently, as\nDick half-sat, half-reclined on his spruce couch, endeavoring to rub the\nsleep from his eyes and collect his befuddled senses, he perceived what\nseemed to be at first a miracle.\nThe tepee was full of people. It seemed incredible, but true it was. The\nnarrow confines of the room, in which he had spent the previous\nthirty-six hours, most of them alone, now fairly bustled with life. To\nhis great amazement, he saw Sandy, Toma, Corporal Richardson, Factor\nMacClaren and two half-breeds, employed as servants at Fort Good Faith.\nThey were all standing or sitting about, everyone, apparently, talking\nat once.\nDick made another quick dab at his eyes to make sure that his vision had\nnot suddenly played him false. Was he suffering from some sort of a\ndelusion? Was he seeing and hearing things? What did it all mean?\n\u201cThat boy could sleep through an earthquake,\u201d Sandy\u2019s uncle declared,\ndetaching himself from the little group and walking over beside Dick.\n\u201cMy boy,\u201d he inquired, placing a solicitous hand on Dick\u2019s head, \u201chow\nare you feeling? Sandy tells me that you have been quite seriously\nhurt.\u201d\nFor the third time, Dick rubbed at his eyes.\n\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d he cried in a hollow, unnatural voice.\nA general laugh followed this plaintive inquiry.\n\u201cIt means,\u201d Corporal Richardson enlightened him, \u201cthat everything is all\nright, Dick. We\u2019ve come to take you back to the post.\u201d\n\u201cBut how\u2014\u2014\u201d began Dick.\n\u201cSandy brought the news to us last night.\u201d\nDick turned reproachful eyes in the direction of his chum.\n\u201cI like your nerve,\u201d he said coldly, \u201cand that\u2019s no joke either. You\nsaid you\u2019d come back before dark, and all the time you were scheming and\nplanning to sneak back to the post. I suppose it didn\u2019t matter to you\nhow much Toma and I worried.\u201d\n\u201cNo such thing,\u201d Sandy retorted hotly. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t have gone back to the\npost at all if I hadn\u2019t come across Malemute Slade. I thought he was\ndying.\u201d\n\u201cMalemute Slade!\u201d Dick stared incredulously.\n\u201cI think,\u201d Factor MacClaren broke in, \u201cthat you\u2019d better let me\nstraighten out this tangle.\u201d\n\u201cNo, Uncle Walter,\u201d Sandy protested, \u201cI can do that better myself.\u201d He\nwalked over and sat down on the bed beside Dick.\n\u201cWhen I left here,\u201d he commenced, \u201cyou know what my intention was: to\nfollow the tracks of the man who had been hurt and, if possible, to find\nhim. Well, I had no difficulty in getting back to the place where Toma\nand I had been. The trail wasn\u2019t very hard to follow. There were\nblood-stains in the snow, and here and there, I could tell where the man\nhad sat down to rest.\n\u201cI had been out on the trail\u2014well, it couldn\u2019t have been much more than\nan hour\u2014when the tracks led me to an old dilapidated-looking cabin.\nRight away, I had a feeling that the man would be there, and I had a\nhorrible suspicion that I would find him dead.\n\u201cI knocked at the door,\u201d Sandy continued breathlessly, \u201cbut there was no\nanswer. So I went in. I couldn\u2019t see anything at first, it was so dark\ninside. There was only one small window. But pretty soon my eyes became\naccustomed to the light. There was a bunk, stove and two wooden benches\nin the room. A man was lying in the bunk with some blankets pulled\naround him.\n\u201cThe wounded man had started a fire, but it had gone out and it was\nquite cold in the room. At first, I just stood there looking around,\nalmost too frightened to move. When I walked over to the bunk, I was\ntrembling all over. I had scarcely strength enough to pull down the\nblankets, which were tucked around the man\u2019s head.\u201d\nSandy paused and looked around him. His face was gray and drawn.\nEvidently, the memory was not a very pleasant one.\n\u201cThe man,\u201d he resumed in a low voice, \u201cwas Malemute Slade.\u201d\nDick jumped.\n\u201cSandy!\u201d he cried in a stricken voice. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me he\u2019s dead!\u201d\n\u201cOf course not,\u201d smiled the speaker. \u201cWe wouldn\u2019t all be so blamed\ncheerful if he was. But when I found him, he was delirious, and I don\u2019t\nmind telling you that I was nearly frightened stiff.\n\u201cI was so excited, that I don\u2019t know exactly what I did. I remember\nstarting the fire and trying to bathe his wound in some warm snow-water.\nHe was wounded in his right arm, which was badly swollen and almost\nblack from infection.\u201d\n\u201cDid Malemute Slade recognize you?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cNo, he was too sick for that. But he kept asking for water, sometimes\nsitting up and staring wildly about him. I gave him all the water he\nwould drink, and late in the afternoon his fever subsided and he fell in\na deep sleep.\n\u201cYou can bet,\u201d Sandy went on, \u201cthat I had been doing a lot of thinking.\nI couldn\u2019t let him stay there like that. I was afraid he was going to\ndie. I decided that the best thing I could do was to go back to the fort\nfor help before it was too late.\n\u201cShortly before dark, I banked my fire and started out. I knew I\ncouldn\u2019t be very far from the Run River trail, probably not more than\ntwo miles west of it. I found the trail, after a good deal of trouble,\nand reached Fort Good Faith soon after midnight.\u201d\n\u201cWhere is Malemute Slade now?\u201d Dick wanted to know.\n\u201cHe ought to be at the post by this time,\u201d Corporal Richardson replied.\n\u201cAs soon as Sandy appeared and told us the news, I called for a little\nparty of volunteers and we started out. The cabin, where Malemute Slade\nlay wounded, is between here and the Run River trail, so, of course, we\nstopped there first, bundled him up and sent him back in a hurry. Then\nwe came on here for you, Dick. There is a dog team and sleigh waiting\nfor you outside.\u201d\n\u201cI wonder how Slade happened to get wounded?\u201d came Dick\u2019s next question.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d the corporal replied. \u201cWe won\u2019t be able to find that out\nuntil Slade is sufficiently recovered to tell us. However, I know this:\nIt\u2019s a bullet wound, and the weapon his assailant used was fired at\nclose range. The hole in his arm is a large one. I\u2019m afraid the bone is\nshattered.\u201d\n\u201cWill he get well again?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cYes; I think so. With proper care and attention, he\u2019ll be around again\nin a few weeks, although I doubt very much whether he\u2019ll be able to use\nhis right arm for a long, long time.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d like to get my hands on the man who shot him,\u201d Sandy stated\nbelligerently.\nEverybody laughed at this assertion except Toma, who had good cause to\nremember a certain experience only a few months before, when he had been\nsomewhat roughly treated by the young Scotchman.\n\u201cWell, there\u2019s no use of wasting any more time here,\u201d said Factor\nMacClaren. \u201cI suggest that we roll our friend, Dick, up in a nice little\nbundle and proceed on our way. Averse to a sleigh-ride, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cNot at all.\u201d\n\u201cYou may change your mind before we reach the Run River trail,\u201d the\nfactor warned him. \u201cIt\u2019s pretty rough in places.\u201d\n\u201cMy foot\u2019s better, and I won\u2019t mind it at all,\u201d said Dick cheerfully.\nThe sun had just slipped up over the horizon when the small cavalcade,\nwith Corporal Richardson in the lead, set out. In a short while, a\nbrilliant flood of sunshine lay over the land. Out of the west came a\nwarm chinook, stirring the spruce and pine branches over their heads.\n\u201cSpring is coming,\u201d rejoiced Sandy, sniffing the air and prancing about\nDick\u2019s sleigh like a young colt. \u201cWon\u2019t it be glorious, Dick, when the\ngrass and flowers start to grow?\u201d\n\u201cAnd the rivers and streams commence running again,\u201d Dick added. \u201cWe\u2019ll\ngo fishing then, won\u2019t we, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cYou bet!\u201d\nSandy appeared to be so happy, indeed, that it occurred to Dick\npresently, watching him gamboling about, that there must be some other\nexplanation for his friend\u2019s high spirits than the mere fact that Spring\nwas approaching.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s up, Sandy?\u201d he inquired a moment later as the young man came\ncavorting back to the sleigh. \u201cAnyone would think that you\u2019d just been\nelected King of Scotland.\u201d\n\u201cNothing like that, Dick, on my word. I\u2019m just feeling fine.\u201d\n\u201cSandy, you\u2019re lying to me.\u201d\n\u201cNot I.\u201d\n\u201cYou might as well tell me,\u201d persisted Dick, \u201cbecause I\u2019ll be sure to\nfind out anyway. I can tell by the way you act and by the expression on\nyour face that something out of the ordinary has happened. Out with it!\u201d\nSandy hesitated, then moved closer to his friend.\n\u201cIt\u2019s not exactly a secret, but we thought we wouldn\u2019t tell you until we\ngot back to the post. However, now that you\u2019ve become so suspicious, I\ndon\u2019t see any harm in it. Are you prepared for a shock?\u201d\n\u201cCertainly. Go right ahead.\u201d\nSandy looked about him to make sure that they were not overheard, then\nleaned forward, as he walked beside the sleigh, and fairly hissed the\nwords in Dick\u2019s ear:\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got back the map of the lost mine!\u201d\n\u201cNo!\u201d shouted Dick.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a fact. Corporal Richardson found it this morning on the body of\nMalemute Slade.\u201d\nFor a brief second, Dick stared incredulously, wonderingly at his\nfriend, then removed his parka and threw it high in the air.\nOn a bright Spring morning, nearly a month after the recovery of the\nmap, a small but enthusiastic party of young prospectors left Fort Good\nFaith, and started north on its exciting quest. In the lead went Toma,\nthe young Indian guide, and Dick Kent, now fully recovered from his\nrecent injury. Sandy MacClaren and two Indian packers, Lee and Pierre,\nbrought up the rear.\nThree pack-horses, carrying supplies, blankets and equipment, trudged\nalong behind the packers. They were heavily laden and, considering the\nfact that they had but recently come off the winter range, were in\nexcellent condition.\nThe route Dick and his friends followed was a narrow trail, which\nthreaded its way north by a little west through a practically unexplored\nand uninhabited country. By following the trail, the party would, in a\nfew days, cross a low range of hills and emerge upon a trackless, broken\nplain. This plain, according to the map, sloped away in a northwesterly\ndirection to Thunder River.\nThunder River, although not the boys\u2019 final objective, was yet not very\nfar away from the location, presumed or real, of the lost mine. The map\nwas not very clear on this point. The small \u201cX,\u201d indicating the position\nof the mine, had been placed the fractional part of an inch on the west\nside of Thunder River. Whether the distance between the river and the\nmine was one mile or ten, there was no way of ascertaining.\nThe boys conversed animatedly as they proceeded slowly along the trail.\nThe weather was mild. Here and there, were a few discolored patches of\nsnow. The ground was moist and cold, dotted with pools of water or\nstreaked with tiny rivulets that trickled audibly away to join other\nstreams in the steaming forest spaces beyond.\nAt exactly twelve o\u2019clock by Dick\u2019s watch, the party came to a halt for\nits midday meal. After consulting the two packers, Dick had chosen a\nsmall bluff, thickly covered with dry grass and almost devoid of trees,\nas the best spot for the picketing out of the ponies. They could feed\nand rest here for an hour.\n\u201cI\u2019ve an appetite myself,\u201d Sandy declared. He stood, watching the two\nIndian boys, Pierre and Lee, remove the packs from the hungry little\nsteeds and stake them out near the top of the bluff.\nDick and Toma had already started a fire. The latter was carrying an\narmful of brush, considerably larger than himself, and Dick, squatting\non his haunches, hunting knife in hand, was carving thick slices of\nsteak from a hind-quarter of moose he had fetched from the unloaded\npacks. He looked up at Sandy\u2019s approach.\n\u201cHere you, old lazybones, get a stir on if you expect to eat with the\nrest of us. Just now I require two frying-pans, salt, kettle and a\nliberal supply of water from that creek over yonder. You\u2019ll find bannock\nin the large canvas bag, tied with the yellow string.\u201d\n\u201cI was just planning to put myself to work when you mentioned it,\u201d Sandy\nretorted. \u201cGee, but I\u2019m hungry. I know blamed well from the way I feel\nthat our four-months\u2019 supplies won\u2019t last us more than a week.\u201d\nHe trotted away without waiting to hear what Dick\u2019s answer might be, and\nin considerably less than half an hour the boys were seated around the\ncamp fire, eating their savory meal. At its conclusion, Dick stretched\nhimself out at full length, basking in the warm noonday sun.\n\u201cWell, Sandy,\u201d he exulted, \u201cwe\u2019re away to a start at last. Aren\u2019t you\nglad?\u201d\n\u201cYou bet I am,\u201d came the hearty answer as the youngest member of the\nexpedition sprawled down beside his friend. \u201cThe only thing I\u2019m sorry\nabout is that Uncle Walter couldn\u2019t come along with us. He\u2019s taking\ninventory at the store, and it\u2019ll be several weeks before he\u2019ll be ready\nto start.\u201d\n\u201cA good thing in one way,\u201d commented Dick. \u201cWhen he comes he\u2019ll bring\nanother string of packhorses and more supplies.\u201d\n\u201cCorporal Richardson and Malemute Slade promised to pay us a visit too,\u201d\nSandy reminded him. \u201cWhat were you three doing together last night?\u201d he\nsuddenly demanded, sitting up and glowering down at the other.\n\u201cYou think I\u2019m secretive and selfish, I suppose,\u201d Dick replied, \u201cbut\nreally there wasn\u2019t anything so very mysterious about our little\nmeeting. You could have come into the room where we were if you had\ncared to. I motioned to you when you passed down the hallway, but you\npretended not to see. You\u2019re terribly stubborn at times, Sandy.\u201d\n\u201cNot at all,\u201d Sandy protested. \u201cBut I feel like this: I wouldn\u2019t for the\nworld attempt to intrude where I\u2019m not wanted. You and Corporal\nRichardson and Malemute Slade went into that room without saying a word\nto me. Not a word!\u201d\nThe aggrieved young man carefully broke off the brown stem of a withered\npea-vine and crumpled it between the palms of his hands.\n\u201cAs usual you weren\u2019t around when we wanted you,\u201d explained Dick. \u201cI\nlooked everywhere. But as I said before, there was no particular secret\nbetween us except\u2014\u201d Dick lowered his voice\u2014\u201cexcept that, at Corporal\nRichardson\u2019s suggestion, we made a second copy of the map. He took the\ncopy and put it in the inside pocket of his coat. In a day or two, when\nhe returns to headquarters, he\u2019s going to hand it over to the Inspector\nfor safe-keeping.\n\u201cYou can see for yourself,\u201d Dick resumed, \u201cthat it was a wise\nprecaution. If the map we have with us should be lost or stolen, we\u2019ll\nstill be able to find the mine.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d agreed Sandy, now fully recovered from his pique, \u201cthe plan was a\ngood one. The Inspector will give us the other copy if we lose ours. A\nlittle delay, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n\u201cJust the same, I hope we don\u2019t lose the map again. I\u2019ll be pleased if\nnothing happens this time. I\u2019d like to make good time getting over to\nthe mine.\u201d\nThat Dick\u2019s wish gave every promise of being fulfilled, became more and\nmore apparent as the days passed. So far the little cavalcade had not\nbeen molested. Through deep forests and across broad, seemingly endless\nmeadows they plodded hopefully, making very good progress. It seemed to\nDick that one rare and glorious day followed another. The sun shone\nalmost incessantly\u2014a great, yellow, burning disc,\u2014that had begun to work\nmiracles in the land, which only a few weeks before had been gripped in\nthe mighty hand of an implacable winter.\nContinuing north and west, the country through which they passed became\nmore rugged and difficult. The trail they had followed came to an end.\nThere was no track, no outstanding landmark of any kind to guide them.\nFor five dismal days, consulting their compass from time to time, the\nthree boys with their packers and ponies struggled on over the scarred\nand battered face of a land of utter desolation. Gray, towering,\nmisshapen rocks, rising up on every side, seemed to offer them mute\ndefiance.\n\u201cIt\u2019s as if they dared us to go on,\u201d Sandy remarked. \u201cI\u2019m getting so I\nhate the sight of them. I wonder, Dick, if we\u2019ll ever manage to get\nthrough?\u201d\n\u201cOf course, we will,\u201d Dick replied cheerily enough, although at heart he\nwas troubled. They could get through all right, they themselves, but the\npackhorses\u2014\u2014\nHe looked around at the struggling little beasts, who were slipping and\nsliding over the treacherous slate and granite formation underfoot.\nTheir hoofs had been worn smooth as glass. One of them had become lame\nand part of its burden had been transferred to the other ponies and to\nthe weary, chafed shoulders of the boys.\nSince morning the two packers, Lee and Pierre, had shown the first\nsymptoms of open rebellion. Neither one could speak English, so their\ncomplaints came to Dick and Sandy through the medium of Toma, who acted\nas interpreter.\n\u201cThem fellows say ponies die if no find grass pretty quick. Ponies so\nweak now can hardly stand up.\u201d\nIt was true. There was no grass, or so very little, that it provided but\nscant nourishment for the plodding, overworked animals. The soil was not\nproductive. Indeed, so far as the boys could determine, there was no\nvegetation at all in that bleak and unfriendly waste. Dick and Sandy\npitied the horses but were powerless to do anything.\n\u201cBefore long we\u2019ll come to a place where the grass grows,\u201d Dick stated,\nattempting to cheer the packers.\nToma conveyed this message to the glowering pair but without result.\n\u201cThey say no think so. Many, many miles yet before we reach \u2019em place\nwhere grass grows.\u201d\n\u201cThe fools! The fools!\u201d stormed Sandy, stamping his feet and glaring\nabout him. \u201cWhat do they expect us to do: shoot the horses or\nmanufacture a lot of grass. The horses would surely starve if we turned\nback now. Ask them what they want us to do, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cThey say go on no good,\u201d Toma replied patiently, after he had put the\nquestion. \u201cFellows say we must go back or pretty soon we all die.\nFellows say this bad medicine land.\u201d\n\u201cBad medicine or not, I\u2019m going to take it,\u201d exploded Sandy. \u201cYou tell\nthem, Toma, that if they don\u2019t like our company or the place we\u2019re\ngoing, they\u2019re at perfect liberty to quit, like the miserable cowards\nthey are, and return to the post.\u201d\n\u201cNo! No! Don\u2019t tell them that,\u201d Dick quickly interposed. \u201cAsk them to\nremain with us for a day or two longer. We\u2019ll be sure to find forage for\nthe ponies before long.\u201d\nThe packers protested but finally consented to remain. The little party\npushed forward. On and on It went through the glaring sunlight that fell\nacross that indescribable waste, Lee and Pierre shaking their heads and\nmuttering to themselves. Just before nightfall, Dick and Toma, who were\nwell in advance of the others, led the way down to a deep gulch, a sort\nof miniature canyon, that stretched away before them as far as the eye\ncould see.\nA few miles farther on, a tiny stream of pure, cold water gurgled down\nfrom a cleft in the rocks.\n\u201cGrass here!\u201d Toma shouted. \u201cPlenty grass here for many horses.\u201d\nDick breathed a sigh of relief as he unslung his shoulder-pack. The\nhorses came up at a brisk trot. Sandy, foot-sore and weary, the last\nperson to reach the friendly oasis in that desert of rocks, grinned at\nsight of the green velvety strip that carpeted the entire floor of the\ngulch.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll gorge themselves and die of colic,\u201d he predicted. \u201cJust look at\nthem, Dick!\u201d\nDick laughed as he looked, then stepped back quickly, every ounce of\nblood gone from his face. A strange whirring sound through the air, and\nsomething had whisked past his head, striking the ground not more than\nten feet behind him. One of the ponies had snorted in sudden fear, and\nLee, the packer, reached out, plucking the still quivering shaft from\nthe ground at his feet.\nToma, ever on the alert, was the first to take the queer missile from\nthe packer\u2019s trembling grasp.\n\u201cLook!\u201d he said, holding it up. \u201cAn arrow!\u201d\nAn arrow it was\u2014a yellow arrow with a long shaft and a sharp head. Dick\nand Sandy regarded it for a moment in blank amazement. Then both of the\nboys jumped as a sudden, deafening report rang out.\nToma had fired his rifle. It lay now in the crook of his arm, and Toma\nhimself, one hand shading his eyes, scanned the rugged cliffs on the\nopposite side of the ravine.\n\u201cDid you see something?\u201d Dick quavered.\n\u201cMe not sure,\u201d Toma spoke calmly. \u201cOne time I thought see something\nmove. Mebbe only sun shining on rocks. Anyway,\u201d he paused, smiling a\nlittle, \u201chim fellow shoot arrow be frightened now at big noise an\u2019 run\naway, I think.\u201d\n\u201cI hope so,\u201d said Dick, endeavoring to control the tremor in his voice\nand trying to appear unconcerned.\nSandy\u2019s face was pale but he said nothing as he walked over to the\nsupply packs and commenced to haul them out in preparation for supper.\nOn the following morning, when Dick awoke, there was no sign, no\nindication anywhere of their mysterious enemy of the night before. In\nthe bright presence of a new day, it seemed scarcely possible that the\nthing really could have happened. The fear and dread he had experienced\nbefore retiring for the night, was gone. The bright rays of the sun were\nfriendly and reassuring. There was something peaceful and comforting in\nthe sight of the green strip of grass growing there in the ravine, and\nin the sound of the water tumbling down from the rocks.\nLighted-heartedly, he threw back his blankets and jumped up, only to\nmeet the troubled gaze of Toma, who sat, fully dressed, a few feet away,\nhis rifle in his lap.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, Toma?\u201d Dick cried jovially. \u201cYou look as if you\u2019d\nlost your best friend.\u201d\nThe guide replied by pointing in the direction of the pack-horses. Dick\nturned his head quickly. A few feet away, two of the ponies were\nmunching the grass, straining at their picket ropes.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the other one?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cIt go along with Lee and Pierre sometime last night,\u201d Toma answered\ndisconsolately. \u201cThem fellows \u2019fraid like coyotes. Take supplies along\ntoo\u2014nearly half. What you think about that?\u201d\nWhat Dick thought was best expressed in his sudden exclamation:\n\u201cThe miserable, cowardly thieves! Toma, I\u2019ve a mind to go and fetch \u2019em\nback.\u201d\n\u201cNo catch \u2019em now,\u201d pointed out the more practical Toma. \u201cI no feel\nsorry very much they go. But the supplies\u2014I no like that.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right! Good riddance!\u201d Dick walked over to the small stream of\nrunning water and commenced washing his face and hands. \u201cWe\u2019ll make out\nvery well without them.\u201d\n\u201cI hate wake Sandy,\u201d said Toma. \u201cHim get so mad mebbe no stop talking.\u201d\nDick laughed, not so very heartily, and went on with his task.\n                      A MYSTERIOUS TEN DOLLAR BILL\nOn the afternoon of the day following the disappearance of the two\npackers, the ravine narrowed down to a mere gully, and the three boys,\nleading the pack-horses, scrambled up the precipitous slope to find\nthemselves looking out across a broad and fertile meadow.\nOff in the northwest, a low-lying haze or ribbon of mist indicated the\npresence of a body of water.\n\u201cIt\u2019s probably Thunder River,\u201d Dick surmised. \u201cAccording to the map,\nthere\u2019s no other stream of any importance we have to cross. That means,\nSandy, that we must be very close to the end of our journey.\u201d\nSandy raised one hand and clapped Dick on the back as he spoke.\n\u201cI\u2019m glad for all of us. But I must say, Dick, that this trip hasn\u2019t\nbeen so unendurable after all. On the whole, I\u2019ve rather enjoyed it.\u201d\n\u201cWith the exception of the arrow and the disappearance of those cowardly\npackers, I\u2019ve enjoyed it too,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cQueer about that arrow,\u201d mused Sandy, as they started off again. \u201cYou\nknow, Dick, I\u2019ve been thinking a good deal about that ever since it\nhappened. It\u2019s so terribly mysterious. I wonder who shot it?\u201d\nHe paused for a moment as he hurried forward to keep abreast of his much\nswifter companion.\n\u201cDo you suppose,\u201d he resumed, \u201cthat the person who shot the arrow\nintended to kill one of us, or merely wanted to give us a good fright?\u201d\n\u201cI hold to the former view,\u201d Dick answered a little grimly. \u201cI don\u2019t\nthink there\u2019s the least doubt on that score. The arrow missed my head by\nless than a foot, and nearly caught Lee in his right leg.\u201d\n\u201cA good shot all right,\u201d Sandy mumbled, half to himself. \u201cWhoever fired\nit, was a marksman. He knew his business. It was an Indian, of course.\u201d\n\u201cYes, it must have been.\u201d\nSandy raised his voice so that the guide, who was leading the\npack-ponies, could hear.\n\u201cToma, how does it happen that some of the Indians around here still use\na bow and arrow. I thought that all of them went to the trading posts\nnow to buy rifles. How do you account for it?\u201d\n\u201cNot all buy rifles,\u201d Toma enlightened him. \u201cOnce in a while far away\nfrom trading post like this, you find wild people, mebbe not more than\nonce or twice see white men. These Indians very much afraid white man\u2019s\nguns. No come very close to settlements or trade at post. These people\nnot many\u2014only few tribes left.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Dick, \u201cI remember hearing something like that before.\nPossibly, it was from Corporal Richardson.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I know this much,\u201d Sandy broke in, \u201cI\u2019d much rather have them to\ncontend with than the outlaws under Henderson.\u201d\n\u201cMebbe have both very soon,\u201d predicted Toma.\n\u201cGreat Guns! I hope not!\u201d Sandy\u2019s alarm was genuine. \u201cI\u2019ve had enough of\nHenderson to last me all the rest of my days. I\u2019m really beginning to\nbelieve, though, that we\u2019ve seen the last of him. At any rate, I don\u2019t\nthink he\u2019s going to bother us any more about the mine.\u201d\n\u201cIt has commenced to look that way,\u201d Dick agreed. \u201cBut I think we can\naccount for it. Corporal Richardson and Malemute Slade are keeping them\nso busy, they haven\u2019t time to come up here to worry us.\u201d\n\u201cStill,\u201d Sandy reflected, \u201cI don\u2019t believe Henderson will give up so\neasily. They know about the mine and will do everything possible to gain\ncontrol of it. The outlaws will be in a dangerous mood now after losing\nthe fur.\u201d\nToma did not, as a general thing, enter into the discussions Dick and\nSandy so often indulged in. But he was an attentive listener at all\ntimes, very rarely failing to understand what was being said. In the\npresent instance so interested had he become, that he quite forgot his\nusual taciturnity.\n\u201cWhat you think, Dick,\u201d he suddenly broke forth, \u201cif I tell you\nHenderson\u2019s men him close to us all the time since we left post? You\nbelieve me crazy fool, eh?\u201d\nDick was so startled by the question that he stopped dead in his tracks\nand stared curiously at the young Indian.\n\u201cWhy\u2014why,\u201d he stammered, \u201cI don\u2019t know. I don\u2019t know what to think. But\nyou\u2019re spoofing me, Toma. It isn\u2019t reasonable, of course.\u201d\n\u201cI think,\u201d Toma was in deadly earnest, \u201cthat Henderson send men to\nfollow us when we left post. Right now, Henderson\u2019s men in hiding close\nby. You see if Toma not speak you the truth.\u201d\nSandy laughed in derision.\n\u201cThat\u2019s a good one! If Henderson is within fifty miles of us right now,\nI\u2019ll undertake to eat our two pack-horses for supper.\u201d\nToma flushed with embarrassment, but still held stubbornly to his\nbelief. Sandy\u2019s laughter and Dick\u2019s sceptical smile had not influenced\nhim in the least.\n\u201cYou see if Toma not speak the truth,\u201d he said doggedly.\n\u201cWhat I want to know,\u201d Sandy taunted him, \u201cis if a change in the weather\nwouldn\u2019t make you feel better. Perhaps a little rain would freshen your\nmind, Toma. This everlasting sunlight is getting the better of you.\u201d\n\u201cIf the outlaws have really been following us,\u201d inquired Dick, scowling\ndarkly at Sandy, \u201cwhy haven\u2019t we heard from them before? Why haven\u2019t we\nbeen attacked? If what you say is true, Toma, Henderson has decided to\nbe a good man instead of the rascal we have always known.\u201d\n\u201cHenderson him bad, but very smart fellow,\u201d said the guide. \u201cHe shoot\nyou, me, Sandy, in one minute if he like. But he no like because if he\nshoot us he mebbe lose mine.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cMuch more easy, much better for him to follow along \u2019till we find mine\nourselves. Then he take it away from us. More sense do thing like that\nthan kill you, me, Sandy, when not know for sure if we have map.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s smile suddenly faded away.\n\u201cBy George, you\u2019re right! Toma, I\u2019ll take back everything I just\nsaid\u2014with some interest added.\u201d\n\u201cThen, according to your belief,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwe have nothing to fear\nuntil we have located the mine?\u201d\n\u201cNo. Only men with arrows bother us now. Me pretty sure Henderson keep\nout of sight. He no want us suspect anything when he get ready take\nmine.\u201d\n\u201cHow long have you had this suspicion in your mind,\u201d quizzed Dick, \u201cand\nwhy didn\u2019t you tell us before?\u201d\n\u201cI think same as you an\u2019 Sandy until last night,\u201d came the startling\nrevelation. \u201cThem fellow, Lee an\u2019 Pierre, go off like that make me\nworry. First I think all same you an\u2019 Sandy. I say to me: \u2018Toma, them\nfellow run away because this bad medicine land an\u2019 because they \u2019fraid\nget killed Indian arrows.\u2019\n\u201cBut more I think like that the more not sure I get all the time. Lee\nan\u2019 Pierre have \u2019em more sense mebbe. Not so crazy fool after all. Both\nthem packers I know for long, long time. Lee pretty good fellow, but\nPierre get drunk, gamble\u2014not so good like Lee.\u201d\n\u201cWhat in Sam Hill are you driving at?\u201d interrupted Sandy impatiently. \u201cI\nfail to see what they have to do with it. We were talking about\nHenderson\u2014not about the packers.\u201d\n\u201cYou understand pretty quick,\u201d said Toma, reaching in his pocket and\nbringing forth a crisp ten-dollar bill. \u201cI find that in the grass next\nmorning Lee an\u2019 Pierre run away.\u201d\n\u201cOne of them lost it,\u201d reasoned Sandy, \u201cbut I fail to see\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cI find the money an\u2019 pick it up,\u201d Toma went on, ignoring Sandy\u2019s\nremark. \u201cThen I forget all about it, because I get me so excited they\nsteal supplies an\u2019 run away. But bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye, I start think about that\nmoney. I remember Pierre he say to me one day: \u2018Toma,\u2019 he say, \u2018me, Lee\nlike play poker some night but no got money.\u2019 He ask me lend him money\nso him an\u2019 Lee play poker.\u201d\n\u201cHe must have lied to you,\u201d said Dick.\nToma shook his head.\n\u201cMe no think so. He no lie that time. Pierre an\u2019 Lee get money from\nsomewhere else.\u201d\nDick jumped.\n\u201cFrom Henderson!\u201d he exclaimed.\nThe Indian nodded in the affirmative.\n\u201cMe pretty sure Henderson man come during night, wake up Lee an\u2019 Pierre\nan\u2019 give money so they run away. In the dark, they drop money in grass\nan\u2019 no find this one.\u201d\nSandy turned mournful, accusing eyes upon Toma. Dejectedly, he kicked\nthe turf at his feet.\n\u201cThat\u2019s always the way,\u201d he lamented. \u201cThe minute I begin to feel happy\nand contented, something like this comes along to upset me. I believe\nToma now. This business about the money has so thoroughly convinced me,\nDick, that I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if Henderson himself should step out\nof that clump of bushes over yonder and tell us to throw up our hands.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll keep guard every night now,\u201d Dick decided. \u201cWhatever happens,\nwe\u2019ll be ready for them.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps we ought to camp here and wait for Uncle Walter,\u201d Sandy\nsuggested. \u201cI don\u2019t mind confessing to both of you that I\u2019m scared\nstiff. Between the Indians and their arrows and Henderson and his guns,\nI predict that we\u2019re going to have a hot time of it.\u201d\n\u201cI think we be all right \u2019till we get to mine,\u201d said Toma. \u201cNo use stop\nhere.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you propose, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what to say,\u201d Dick confessed. \u201cThree or four weeks is a\nlong time to wait for reinforcements. Even then we\u2019ll probably be\noutnumbered. It\u2019s rather difficult to decide. Perhaps you\u2019d like to give\nup altogether, Sandy, and return to the post.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s face flamed a bright crimson.\n\u201cAre you trying to insult me\u2014or what!\u201d he demanded hotly.\n\u201cOf course not. I mean it. It\u2019s no crime to run away if the job is too\nbig for us. I\u2019m not doubting your courage.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll die and rot in my tracks before I go back to the post. If that\u2019s\nwhat you\u2019re figuring on doing, go ahead.\u201d\nFor a full minute the two boys stood, face to face, breathing heavily.\nThere was a gleam of defiance in Sandy\u2019s eyes, while Dick\u2019s face had\nbecome overshadowed with anger. Toma dropped the end of the lead-rope\ncarefully on the ground and placed one foot on it. Then he straightened\nup, putting a hand on the shoulder of each one of the young\nbelligerents.\n\u201cNo fight here,\u201d he grinned. \u201cDick, Sandy, you come with me. Toma show\nyou nice place where fight all time, day an\u2019 night. Mebbe you like that\nbetter.\u201d\nDick and Sandy glared at each other for a moment, then grinned\nsheepishly. The matter was settled. They would go on to the mine.\nThunder River at last! Like most northern streams it had cut its channel\ndeeply into the earth, through soil, rock and sandstone, and the result\nnow, after ages of this corrosive action, was a deep canyon at the\nbottom of which roared and tumbled the mighty river.\nSpring floods, caused by melting snow and ice in the hills and mountains\nto the west, had made a veritable torrent of the river, and Dick, Toma\nand Sandy, looking down at the racing, foam-capped waters, were a little\ndubious about crossing it.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll never get the horses over at any rate,\u201d Dick decided. \u201cThere\u2019s no\nanimal living that can swim against that current. It simply can\u2019t be\ndone.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d agreed Sandy, \u201cit can\u2019t. And I very much doubt whether we can get\nacross ourselves. It looks to me as if the strongest raft in the world\nwould be dashed to pieces against those rocks in a very few minutes.\nWhat do you think, Toma?\u201d\nFor once, apparently, their guide was at a complete loss to know what to\nsay. He frowned as he looked down below.\n\u201cI never see river so bad like that before,\u201d he admitted, shaking his\nhead.\n\u201cIf Toma thinks it\u2019s bad, it must be pretty bad indeed,\u201d laughed Dick.\n\u201cHow are we going to cross it, I wonder?\u201d\n\u201cWe no cross here,\u201d said Toma, \u201cbut mebbe we find better place somewhere\nelse.\u201d\nActing upon this suggestion, they started out. They followed the river\nfor several miles, making their way along the comparatively level ground\nthat skirted the edge of the canyon. At the end of an hour, they paused\nin dismay.\n\u201cIt seems to be getting worse instead of better,\u201d complained Sandy.\n\u201cIt\u2019s hopeless. I don\u2019t believe we\u2019re going to get over.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to do it somehow,\u201d Dick gritted his teeth. \u201cLet\u2019s make camp\nhere, stake out the ponies and go after this thing systematically. Sandy\nand I will return to the place we just came from and scout further up\nthe river, while you, Toma, go on in the other direction. We\u2019ll meet\nback here sometime before evening.\u201d\n\u201cAll right,\u201d said Toma, \u201cI think that good idea. We pretty sure find\nsome place not quite so bad. Then we build raft.\u201d\n\u201cBut what about the ponies?\u201d Sandy wanted to know.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll be safe enough here.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t mean that, Dick. What are we going to do when we build the\nraft? We can\u2019t take pack-horses along with us.\u201d\n\u201cWe can take the packs along,\u201d reasoned Dick, \u201cand that\u2019s almost as\nimportant. We\u2019ll turn the ponies loose and let them shift for\nthemselves.\u201d\n\u201cBut we can\u2019t carry all our supplies with us when we do get over. It\u2019s\nimpossible. We can\u2019t do it.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d admitted Dick, very much perplexed. \u201cWe can\u2019t.\u201d\n\u201cWe make \u2019em cache for supplies,\u201d Toma suggested. \u201cWe carry \u2019em over to\nmine, little at a time.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s the only solution, I suppose,\u201d said Sandy, \u201cbut it\u2019s sure to be\na whale of a job. How\u2019ll you like to climb up those slippery rocks with\na hundred pounds on your back? Another thing, how far do you think it is\nfrom the other side of the river to the mine?\u201d\nDick produced the map, while Sandy and Toma gathered around him.\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t say how far it is,\u201d Dick stated, as he unfolded the now\nsoiled piece of paper. \u201cBut it isn\u2019t so very far because the cross,\nindicating its position, is very close to the river.\u201d\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t mean anything,\u201d Sandy turned away in disgust. \u201cHow do we\nknow at what point along the river the mine is? We may be fifteen or\ntwenty miles out of our course, for all you know. The place where we\ncross may be miles and miles away from the mine.\u201d\nDick placed an agitated finger on the map and bit his lips in vexation.\nSandy was right. How could they possibly find the mine unless they knew\nat least approximately at what point along the river it was situated?\nAnd then, suddenly, staring at the paper in his hand, he became aware of\nsomething he had not noticed before. Across the upper portion of the\nmap, Thunder River was indicated by a line, a fairly straight line\nthroughout its entire length. A casual or fleeting look at the line\nbrought out nothing of importance, but a close and careful examination\nshowed that, midway between the source and mouth of the river, there was\na tiny loop or bow. Within this bow, on the opposite or upper side of\nthe line, was the \u201cX,\u201d which showed the location of the mine.\n\u201cI\u2019ve got it!\u201d Dick shouted. \u201cThere\u2019s an abrupt curve in the river at\nonly one place\u2014opposite the mine. When we find that curve, we\u2019ll know\nwhere to cross.\u201d\nSandy took the map from his friend and inspected it closely, silently.\n\u201cYes, the curve is there,\u201d he was forced to admit. \u201cAnd it ought to\nsimplify matters, too. The next thing on our program is to find it.\u201d\n\u201cWhy not do as I just proposed,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWhile we\u2019re hunting for a\nplace to cross, we may find the bow.\u201d\nIt seemed about the only thing to do under the circumstances. In a short\ntime the boys had staked out the ponies, and had picked up their rifles\nin preparation for departure. Toma, who had been looking about, suddenly\nexclaimed:\n\u201cI have good idea. I climb big, tall tree over there an\u2019 mebbe I find\nout where river makes turn. I go up see.\u201d\nHe crossed over to the tree at a brisk trot and commenced climbing up.\nIt was a huge, towering spruce, and it was several minutes before he\nreached the top.\n\u201cDo you see anything?\u201d shouted Sandy.\nToma clung to the topmost branches, swaying there nearly seventy-five\nfeet above their heads, a dark blur against a background of blue sky. He\nmade no answer to Sandy\u2019s shouted inquiry, in fact refusing to divulge\nany information until he had clambered down again and stood there on the\nknoll beside them.\n\u201cI find \u2019em curve all right,\u201d he announced gleefully, brushing away the\nfragments of bark which clung to his clothing. \u201cYou laugh when I tell\nyou only two miles down river. I see very plain from top of tree. River\ncome out on this side nearly quarter-mile before it turn go back again.\u201d\nSandy clapped his hands joyfully.\n\u201cWhat luck! Toma, you old rascal.\u201d\n\u201cI find out something else too,\u201d continued the guide, pleased at the\nimpression he was making. \u201cIn place where river turns, I see another big\nravine where river flow long time ago. Mebbe it just about place where\nyou find \u2019em mine.\u201d\nWaiting to hear no more, Sandy, overcome with a fever of excitement,\nrushed over to the pack-horses again.\n\u201cLet\u2019s hurry,\u201d he called, beginning to gather up their supplies.\n\u201cCome on, Dick, get a move on! Toma, you\u2019ll have to pack these brutes\nyourself. I never could throw a diamond hitch. Gee, but I\u2019m excited.\u201d\nDick had never seen Sandy quite like this before. His chum\u2019s face was\nflushed; his eyes glowed brightly.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll get to the mine tonight,\u201d he exulted. \u201cThrow on these packs,\nToma. If we can\u2019t cross the river any other way, I\u2019m going to swim.\u201d\nThe contagion had caught Dick, too. His own hands were trembling as he\nstooped down to untie the picket-rope from the stake he had driven down\nonly a few minutes before.\n\u201cThis is great!\u201d he mumbled to himself. \u201cWe\u2019re almost there. I can\nhardly believe\u2014\u201d\nThe pony, only a few feet away, reared suddenly on its hind legs,\nscreaming in pain. The stake snapped under Dick\u2019s hands and the rope\nswished away in the grass as the stricken little beast leaped forward a\nfew feet, then fell headlong.\nCompletely taken aback, Dick raised his head. Sandy and Toma had\nflattened themselves out on the ground and were reaching for their\nrifles. A series of sounds very much like small rocks thudding around\nthem, was followed soon after by a deep, resounding crash from the\ndirection of Toma and Sandy. A few more reports from Toma\u2019s gun, and the\ndeep, brooding hush of the wilderness became suddenly intensified\u2014a\nsilence that seemed to wall them about, to encompass them.\nThree startled, white-faced youths crawled on hands and knees to the\nprotection of a large rock and squatted down in mute terror. By some\nwonderful miracle, each had escaped injury. A score or more of\nyellow-plumed shafts; the arrows of the invading party, projected here\nand there above the green grass, like so many tiny sentinels of death.\n\u201cA close call,\u201d breathed Dick, \u201cand may God help us if they come back.\u201d\n\u201cThey were all in hiding over there on that ridge,\u201d Sandy volunteered\nthe information, pointing out the place with a finger that still shook.\n\u201cI didn\u2019t see one of them\u2014not one! Did you, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\u201cCracky! but how those arrows came,\u201d Sandy shivered. \u201cWell, our pony\u2019s\ngone.\u201d\n\u201cWe go too,\u201d said Toma, \u201cunless we be more careful. Crazy, them fellows!\nWhat harm we do them?\u201d\n\u201cNo harm,\u201d answered Dick, \u201cunless they feel we\u2019ve no business here on\ntheir hunting ground. We _are_ trespassing, when it comes right down to\nit.\u201d\n\u201cThis bad medicine land,\u201d Toma asserted. \u201cThat\u2019s why free traders no\ncome here. Once in a while mebbe come but never go back.\u201d\n\u201cBe quiet!\u201d Sandy expostulated. \u201cI\u2019m feeling creepy enough now. Those\nIndians steal up on us and disappear again like ghosts. It takes the\nnerve right out of me.\u201d\n\u201cMe too,\u201d said Dick, \u201cbut hereafter I, for one, intend to be ready for\nthem. At least, I don\u2019t purpose to be asleep when they come over for\ntheir next raid. And I\u2019m going to keep my eyes open as I never kept them\nopen before.\u201d\n\u201cWell, we weren\u2019t exactly asleep,\u201d objected Sandy.\n\u201cWe might just as well have been. I\u2019ll bet that any one of their party\ncould have walked over here and taken a scalp before we would have\nnoticed him.\u201d\nToma rose warily and went over to the packs.\n\u201cI think no more danger now,\u201d he called. \u201cWe better hurry before dark\ncomes. Lots of work build raft over at river.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to make two trips down there,\u201d Dick suddenly remembered.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve only one pony now.\u201d\nThe remainder of the afternoon was passed in getting their supplies to\nthe river. This task was accomplished with the greatest care possible.\nSandy led the pack-horse, while Dick and Toma went forward, rifles in\nhand, ever on the alert. In dead silence, they scanned the woods to the\nright and left for a possible sign of their recent enemy.\nOne piece of good fortune came with the discovery of a safe crossing\nplace in the river. Toma had found it after a half hour of\nreconnoitring, while Dick and Sandy awaited his return on the steep\nslope, near the top of the canyon.\n\u201cMebbe we swim pony across in the morning,\u201d he confided, smiling for the\nfirst time in several hours. \u201cRiver wide an\u2019 very few rapids. Find \u2019em\nplenty easy for raft.\u201d\nWith Dick standing guard, the raft was built that same night, and, on\nthe following morning, supplies and equipment aboard, they were ready\nfor the crossing.\n\u201cThe thing to do first,\u201d said Sandy, scratching his head, \u201cis to get our\nlittle playmate, Sir Bucking Broncho, into the water. How do we go about\nit, Toma?\u201d\nToma led the pony down to the water\u2019s edge and coaxed and cajoled the\nlittle beast but to no avail. The horse sniffed, snorted, swung around\nthis way and that, but refused stubbornly to do more than wet his front\nfetlocks at the brink of the running stream. He was a good pony, but he\nwas taking no chances.\nDick laughed in spite of himself, although the delay was irksome.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know as I blame him very much. The water does look cold and\nit\u2019s a long way across. Perhaps, we\u2019ll have to leave him on this side\nafter all. Do you suppose the three of us could push him in?\u201d\nThe pack-horse not only refused to be pushed, but resented the liberty\ntaken. A glancing blow sent Sandy reeling back and deposited him, none\ntoo gently, in the exact center of a willow copse, where he sat for a\nmoment with a surprised look on his face. The look of surprise changed\nto one of anger as there came to his ears the loud guffaws of Dick and\nToma.\n\u201cLaugh if you want to,\u201d said the aggrieved young man, rising and\nbrushing his clothing. \u201cIt may interest you to know that I\u2019m through.\nYou fellows can do your pushing alone.\u201d\nThe merriment subsided presently and Dick turned to Toma.\n\u201cI guess we\u2019ll have to give up,\u201d he decided, wiping the tears of\nlaughter from his eyes. \u201cYour friend, has plainly indicated his\nintention of remaining on this side. Perhaps he doesn\u2019t like your\ncompany, Sandy.\u201d\n\u201cAnd perhaps he does,\u201d Sandy retorted promptly. \u201cI\u2019m blaming you, not\nthe pony. Any idiot ought to know that that\u2019s no way to treat a horse.\u201d\n\u201cIf you like, you can coax him over with a lump of sugar,\u201d Dick grinned.\nSandy turned his back upon his tormenter.\n\u201cGo ahead and don\u2019t mind me. Why don\u2019t you put your own vast\nintelligence to work in some practical way? I wouldn\u2019t give up if I were\nyou.\u201d\n\u201cI try once more,\u201d Toma suddenly announced. \u201cI think this time I make\npony swim across. You, Dick, Sandy, stand on raft ready push off jes\u2019 so\nsoon as I get in water.\u201d\n\u201cGet in water!\u201d cried Dick in alarm. \u201cWhy you\u2019re not going to swim, are\nyou?\u201d\n\u201cWatch!\u2014See!\u201d\nToma walked back, leading the horse. Thirty feet from the shore he\nbolted to the pony\u2019s bare back, wheeled the animal abruptly about, and\ncame forward at a brisk trot. Dick and Sandy jumped aboard the raft,\npoles in hand, ready to push off. At the river\u2019s edge the pony\nhesitated, but a quick pressure from Toma\u2019s heels sent him plunging into\nthe water. A second later steed and rider struck out boldly for the\nopposite shore.\nAs the raft came abreast of the two swimmers, Toma released his hold of\nthe pony\u2019s mane and, lead-rope in hand, scrambled aboard.\n\u201cLike clock work,\u201d exulted Sandy, slapping Toma\u2019s dripping shoulders.\n\u201cYou\u2019re a wonder, Toma, and there\u2019s no mistake about that. Even Dick\nwould never have dared to pull a stunt like that.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d Dick returned good-naturedly, \u201cI never would.\u201d\nThe crossing was made without mishap. As the craft glided up to the\nrocky shore, Dick and Sandy cheered lustily.\n\u201cBefore we do anything more,\u201d said Dick a few minutes later, when they\nhad unloaded the raft, \u201cI think we had better decide upon some definite\ncourse of action. Unless this map and everything connected with it is a\nhoax, we are now within a few miles of the mine.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cWell,\u201d Dick continued, \u201cwe are all very anxious to find it. From now on\nour search must be painstaking and we musn\u2019t waste any more time than is\nabsolutely necessary.\u201d\n\u201cOf course,\u201d Sandy agreed, \u201cbut where are we going to look first?\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s a question we\u2019d better decide right away. The place where we\u2019re\nstanding now,\u201d Dick made a sweeping gesture with his arm, \u201cseems to form\none end of a more or less oval space, which lies between the river on\none side and the dry canyon or ravine on the other.\n\u201cThe mine,\u201d he went on slowly, \u201cmay be located in any one of a number of\nlikely places. It may be in the oval, stretching away behind us, or in\nthe ravine, or somewhere on the other side of the ravine. In which of\nthese places are we going to search first?\u201d\n\u201cThe ravine,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cI believe we\u2019ll be more apt to find the mine\nthere.\u201d\n\u201cI think ravine too,\u201d Toma agreed with him. \u201cWhat you say we make camp\nhere while we look for mine? No use take supplies an\u2019 pony along\neverywhere we go.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s a good suggestion. This will be our base, which we can always\ncome back to. Anyway, it won\u2019t take more than an hour or two to travel\nthrough the ravine from one end to the other. If the mine\u2019s there, we\u2019ll\nbe sure to find it in a very short time.\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s one thing I don\u2019t like about this arrangement,\u201d Sandy pointed\nout. \u201cIf we make our base here\u2014which seems a pretty good idea\u2014aren\u2019t we\nrunning the chance of losing everything? In our absence the Indians\ncould easily slip down here and steal it all. Put us in a nice pickle,\nwouldn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\u201cIt would!\u201d Dick declared most emphatically. \u201cOne of us will have to\nremain here, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n\u201cWhich one of us?\u201d\nThe three boys looked at each other. It was quite apparent from the\nexpression on the face of each, that none of them wished to remain\nbehind. To go and look for the gold mine was much more interesting and\nexciting.\n\u201cI guess we\u2019ll have to draw straws,\u201d Dick grinned.\n\u201cThat\u2019s fair enough,\u201d Sandy broke off a twig as he spoke.\nHe divided the twig in three small pieces\u2014one shorter than the rest. He\nturned his back as he arranged them in his hand.\nThe unpleasant choice of remaining to guard the camp fell to Dick. For a\nmoment his face clouded with disappointment as he gazed at the tell-tale\nstraw.\n\u201cO well,\u201d he comforted himself, \u201cI\u2019ll have my chance later on.\u201d\nSandy and Toma rose joyfully to their feet, slung on their\nshoulder-packs and otherwise prepared for an immediate departure.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll be back before lunch time,\u201d Sandy sang out, as the two made their\nway across the comparatively level piece of ground, and headed for the\nravine.\n\u201cGood luck!\u201d shouted Dick.\nA few moments later they had disappeared.\n\u201cI hope they find it,\u201d Dick mused, turning away. \u201cSandy will be\noverjoyed.\u201d\nHe walked back to the packs, his thoughts in a whirl of excitement. A\nfew feet away the packhorse grazed contentedly. The camp, since the\ndeparture of his two friends, had become strangely quiet. There was only\nthe sound of the river to break the heavy, all-pervading silence.\nDigging down in one of the packs, Dick brought forth presently a hook\nand line and afterward, cutting a pole from a clump of bushes and\nprocuring a small piece of moose meat for bait, he turned his attention\nto the river.\nDick loved to fish and on this particular morning luck was with him. The\nwater swarmed with trout. In less than twenty minutes he had pulled out\na good two-days\u2019 supply of them.\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t require a great amount of skill to do this,\u201d he informed\nhimself, throwing out his line for the last time. \u201cIf I had a hay fork,\nI believe I could pitch \u2019em out by the ton. Great Caesar! What\u2019s that!\u201d\nA quick splashing in the water on the opposite shore had drawn his\nattention, caused him to straighten up in sudden alarm.\n\u201cA moose!\u201d he ejaculated, breathing his relief. \u201cI thought maybe it was\nsomething else.\u201d\nHe stood perfectly still as the majestic swimmer came on.\n\u201cI can\u2019t shoot him\u2014I can\u2019t!\u201d decided Dick, his admiring gaze on the\nmonarch of the northland forests, watching with bated breath as the\nsplendid beast continued its course across the murky, discolored stream.\n\u201cAnyway,\u201d he continued, \u201cit wouldn\u2019t be fair to take an advantage like\nthat. Our larder is full of meat now.\u201d\nHe actually turned his back a moment later as he rolled up his line,\npicked up the fish he had caught and walked back to the packs. Yet he\nswung about again when the moose plunged to shore, scarcely more than a\nhundred feet away. Head raised high, the magnificent animal struck out\nat a brisk trot and was soon lost to view.\n\u201cI\u2019m glad I didn\u2019t take a shot at him,\u201d Dick breathed thankfully. \u201cHe\nwas too wonderful.\u201d\nThe morning wore on. It was eleven o\u2019clock when Dick consulted his\nwatch, and only a few minutes after when Toma and Sandy appeared.\nHaggard-eyed, faces gray with dust, they loped into camp and threw\nthemselves down, gasping for breath.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to get out of here quick!\u201d Sandy wheezed, turning a\nterror-stricken gaze upon his chum. \u201cI\u2019m fagged out.... Crawled a\nhundred yards on our bellies before we dared to get up and run.... We\nhaven\u2019t a moment to lose.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, Sandy, what do you mean?\u201d\n\u201cThey\u2019re coming now!\u201d\nSandy staggered to his feet; Toma raced to get the pony. It was not\nuntil the packs had been lifted and tied into place, that Dick was made\naware of the danger which threatened them.\n\u201cIndian encampment over there in the ravine. Ran right into it. Dick,\nI\u2019m afraid they saw us.\u201d\nDick\u2019s pulses quickened perceptibly as he received the disconcerting\nnews.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll cross the river. Better there. Don\u2019t bother with the pack-horse.\u201d\n\u201cNo, Toma thinks we\u2019ll be safer among those high rocks behind us.\u201d\nAs Dick paused for a brief space undecided, Toma seized the lead rope,\nmotioning frantically.\n\u201cI see \u2019em first fellow already. Look out!\u201d\nHe raced forward, pressed the lead-rope in Dick\u2019s hands, then fell back\nto cover their retreat. His rifle roared intermittently as they made\ntheir way up the slope.\n\u201cOur chance is slim, but we may make it,\u201d Sandy breathed in his chum\u2019s\near. \u201cYou see, Dick, there\u2019s the danger of being cut off. We may walk\nstraight into a trap.\u201d\n\u201cYou think they may climb up from their side of the ravine and head us\noff.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d shuddered Sandy. \u201cIt will be sure to happen if we don\u2019t hurry.\u201d\n\u201cEncumbered as we are with this pony, I don\u2019t see how we can hurry. The\nfarther we go, the harder it\u2019s going to be. We\u2019ll never reach that high\npoint of rocks up there at this rate.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s wait here until Toma catches up with us. I think myself we\u2019re\nrisking our lives needlessly by taking the pony along. He\u2019s too much of\na hindrance.\u201d\nToma came up and the situation was explained to him.\n\u201cAll right, we unload pony,\u201d he said tersely, suiting the action to the\nword. \u201cSandy, you, Dick stand by ready with guns.\u201d\nThe task took but a moment. They were off again at a dead run, while the\npack-horse stood gazing reproachfully after them.\nToma poked out his head from behind a gray pile of rocks and looked\ndown. Far below him, at the bottom of the ravine, he beheld a sight\nwhich caused his hands to clinch involuntarily and his heart to quicken\na beat or two in righteous indignation.\nIn the Indian encampment, there was a very noticeable flurry and bustle\nof excitement as a small party, headed by an exceedingly atrocious\nindividual, made its way into camp. With the exception of the leader,\nToma had never seen any of them before. Also, with the exception of the\nleader, every man was weighted down with a load of what\u2014even at that\ndistance\u2014Toma recognized immediately as being the supplies he, Dick and\nSandy had discarded at the beginning of their hasty retreat.\nEven the pony, which brought up the procession, was the self same\npack-horse he had ridden into the river that morning. Their supplies and\ntheir horse were gone, but it was not this loss alone which had been the\ndirect cause of Toma\u2019s anger.\nThe young guide flashed one more look of resentment in the direction of\nthe encampment, then turned quickly and made his way back to Dick and\nSandy, who were crouched within a natural rock barricade, about one\nhundred yards distant.\n\u201cWhat did you find out?\u201d Sandy demanded as Toma rejoined them.\n\u201cIndians get our supply an\u2019 pony,\u201d came the prompt answer.\n\u201cWell, that was to be expected,\u201d said Dick. \u201cIt can\u2019t be helped now. Did\nyou find out anything else?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cWhat was it?\u201d\n\u201cToma see scar-face Indian.\u201d\n\u201cWhat!\u201d exclaimed Dick and Sandy in one voice.\n\u201cScar-face Indian him there all right. Make himself big fellow. What you\nthink about that?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s an outrage!\u201d stormed Dick. \u201cNo wonder we\u2019re having trouble. So\nHenderson is at the bottom of this after all.\u201d\n\u201cIf scar-face Indian here, Henderson not very far away,\u201d speculated\nToma.\n\u201cOld Scar-Face must have discovered the mine before this if it\u2019s located\nin the ravine,\u201d Sandy suddenly spoke up.\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter much now where the mine is,\u201d Dick stated\ndespondently. \u201cWe can\u2019t do anything anyway. Our cause is pretty nearly\nhopeless.\u201d\n\u201cUncle Walter is coming,\u201d Sandy reminded him. \u201cDon\u2019t forget that.\u201d\n\u201cTwo or three weeks from now. We may all be dead before then.\u201d\n\u201cWe can defend ourselves here for a day or two,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cIn the\nmeantime maybe something will turn up.\u201d\n\u201cWhat about food and water?\u201d\n\u201cDick!\u201d exclaimed Sandy, moving over and placing one arm affectionately\nabout his chum, \u201cYou\u2019re not your usual self. It\u2019s not like you to give\nup so easily.\u201d\nDick received the gentle rebuke with calm indifference. He stared\nsoberly out across the desolate, sun-filled space without speaking.\n\u201cIndians make night attack mebbe,\u201d Toma suddenly broke the silence.\n\u201cLet \u2019em come,\u201d growled Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll be ready. All I hope is that\nScar-Face leads the attacking party and that I can get a shot at him.\u201d\n\u201cThey\u2019ll probably be in no hurry about that attack,\u201d Sandy sagely\nremarked. \u201cThey know we\u2019re up here somewhere and practically helpless.\nIt would be a whole lot simpler and easier to starve us out.\u201d\n\u201cThat sounds reasonable,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWe\u2019re trapped and they know it.\u201d\n\u201cI tell you something,\u201d Toma rose and began pacing back and forth across\nthe narrow, confining space within the barricade. \u201cWe have good chance\nnow to make \u2019em Indians all look foolish. Place over\nthere\u201d\u2014pointing\u2014\u201cwhere look down camp. You, me, Sandy go over there an\u2019\nstart shoot rifles. Kill \u2019em plenty men in very few minutes. We drive\n\u2019em all bad fellows out of ravine.\u201d\nDick and Sandy stared at each other aghast.\n\u201cWhat you say?\u201d inquired Toma.\n\u201cNever!\u201d shuddered Dick.\n\u201cMurder!\u201d shivered Sandy.\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d the tone was plaintive. \u201cToma not understand.\u201d\n\u201cYou poor devil,\u201d Sandy commenced grimly, but checked himself. \u201cWhat\nquarrel have we with those people down there, Toma? It\u2019s not their\nfault\u2014it\u2019s Henderson\u2019s and the scar-face Indian\u2019s.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, I go shoot him\u2014that fellow.\u201d\nDick\u2019s sudden laugh relieved the tension.\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t come out here to kill anyone,\u201d Sandy attempted to explain.\n\u201cWe came out here to find the mine. It\u2019s wrong to take any human life.\u201d\nToma shrugged his shoulders.\n\u201cYou mean you sit here an\u2019 no shoot if attack come?\u201d he asked in\namazement. \u201cYou sit here an\u2019 let bad fellow kill you without so much\nraise up your rifle?\u201d\n\u201cIf I\u2019m cornered, I\u2019ll fight, of course. But not until then.\u201d\nThe guide shook his head and subsided into a puzzled silence.\n\u201cWhat we do then?\u201d he asked presently.\n\u201cWhat I\u2019d like to do,\u201d Dick cut in sharply, \u201cis to run away\u2014get out of\nthis mess somehow.\u201d\n\u201cHow we swim river?\u201d Toma wanted to know. \u201cNo chance build raft.\u201d\n\u201cWhat about our own raft?\u201d Sandy wondered. \u201cDo you suppose they\u2019ve\noverlooked that?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll give them more credit for brains than that,\u201d was Dick\u2019s opinion.\n\u201cI don\u2019t think we ought to consider it.\u201d\nHe paused for a moment, his brow wrinkling in thought.\n\u201cThe only other way of escape is across the ravine, and I\u2019m willing to\nbet they have sentries posted every hundred yards.\u201d\n\u201cVery probably,\u201d Sandy agreed, \u201cbut even at that there\u2019s a possibility\nthat we could make it. After dark there might be a chance. It\u2019s better\nthan staying here.\u201d\n\u201cIn our present hopeless position,\u201d said Dick calmly, \u201cI\u2019ll try\nanything.\u201d\n\u201cWhat about you, Toma?\u201d\nThe young Indian drew himself up proudly.\n\u201cI go too,\u201d he stated simply.\n\u201cWell, then, it\u2019s decided.\u201d Sandy arose and gazed out across the rough,\nbroken strip of land to the south, conscious of a sinking feeling\nwithin.\nTo attempt to escape by way of the ravine was, as he well knew, a\ndesperate hazard. Their chance of getting through safely was slim\nindeed\u2014with every advantage in favor of their ruthless enemy.\n\u201cIt\u2019s the only thing we can do,\u201d he declared, turning again toward his\ntwo companions and speaking in a low, trembling voice.\nDick evaded Sandy\u2019s direct gaze and he, too, looked out upon that weird,\ndesolate view. The afternoon sun was very bright and the rocks, gray and\nwhite and brown, were like blinding mirrors to his eyes. Somewhere, deep\ndown within his breast, he could feel the beginning of a sob\u2014a choking,\nhelpless feeling difficult to express.\n\u201cMy throat\u2019s dry,\u201d said Sandy, \u201cand I\u2019d like to have a drink.\u201d\n\u201cI go for water,\u201d volunteered Toma.\nDick wheeled about quickly.\n\u201cNo! No! Don\u2019t be a fool, Toma. We\u2019ll have to stand it. You can\u2019t risk\nyour life now.\u201d\nIn dull, aching monotony, the afternoon passed. The sun slipped down\nthrough a bank of clouds to a flaming northwestern sky. Innumerable\nshadows, spreading grotesquely about them, grew dark, then velvet-black,\nmerging finally into one complete inky blot.\n\u201cThere aren\u2019t a hundred stars out tonight,\u201d Dick whispered to his two\ndelighted companions. \u201cConditions couldn\u2019t be better.\u201d\n\u201cIt has clouded over,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cThank God for that.\u201d\nOut of the west had come a cool, moist breeze. If it rained, so much the\nbetter. Since their departure from Fort Good Faith, three weeks\nprevious, the days and nights had succeeded each other with no hint of\nrain, a seemingly endless procession of sunlit and starlit hours.\n\u201cWe ought to start pretty soon,\u201d said Dick, as he paced uneasily,\nrestlessly about.\n\u201cI\u2019m ready any time you fellows are,\u201d Sandy replied.\nTen minutes passed. The wind seemed stronger now and was blowing more\nfrom the south. Unable longer to endure the suspense, Toma plucked at\nDick\u2019s arm.\n\u201cCome,\u201d he whispered.\nSlowly, cautiously, three figures worked their way up and over the rough\nbarricade of rocks and headed for the ravine.\n\u201cKeep close together,\u201d cautioned Dick in a low voice. \u201cWhatever happens,\nwe mustn\u2019t become separated.\u201d\nIn a few minutes they had reached the edge of the ravine and prepared\nfor the perilous descent. They had to feel their way now. Every step\nforward was tedious, conscious effort. The moisture-laden wind,\nbreathing over the warm rocks, had produced a wet, slippery surface\nunder foot. Careful as the three boys were, one of them slipped or fell\noccasionally, producing a sound which caused them to pause in\nconsternation in the belief that the noise must have carried to the\nsentries below.\nAbout half way down, a most disconcerting thing occurred. In attempting\nto recover his balance, Sandy dropped his rifle. It slid out of reach as\nhe made a wild lunge for it, and a moment latter dropped twenty feet to\nthe ledge below. The loud metallic clatter resulting, broke across the\nsilence\u2014so it seemed to Sandy\u2014with a force and noise as terrifying as\nthat made by a derailed express train dropping over a cliff.\nThe three boys stood huddled together in speechless dismay. Had they\nbeen heard? Would the sentries know now for a certainty that an effort\nwas being made to escape?\nSandy recovered his rifle and, following a whispered consultation, it\nwas decided to make their way along the slope of the ravine before\ndescending further. They had succeeded in covering a distance of perhaps\nthree hundred yards, when they paused again\u2014this time in absolute\nterror.\nUp along the ridge, not far from their previous barricade, there arose a\nmedley of demoniacal shrieks and yells that would easily have struck\nfear in the bravest heart. So suddenly and unexpectedly had it come,\nthat the three boys, white-faced and trembling, shrank back against the\nside of the ledge too frightened even to move.\n                        A PATH THROUGH THE ROCKS\nFollowing the first shock of surprise and terror, Dick reached out and\nclutched Sandy\u2019s arm.\n\u201cNow is the time to cross the ravine,\u201d he whispered tersely. \u201cOur best\nchance. Come!\u201d\nThe remainder of the descent to the floor of the ravine was made at the\ncost of bruised bodies and torn garments, but with a speed and dispatch\nthat made caution utterly impossible. Dick\u2019s shins and knuckles were\nbleeding as he helped Sandy to his feet and spoke again in a low voice.\n\u201cAre you there, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, we\u2019ll make a bee-line for it. Ready!\u201d\nThree shadowy forms moved out to the level floor of the ravine,\nhesitated a split-second, then bolted for the opposite side.\nCrash!\nThe report thundered in Dick\u2019s ears. His own gun flamed into the night\nwith a loud, reverberating roar. Four or five wavering figures, who had\nattempted to check their flight, fell back suddenly, making a path for\nthem. First Sandy, then Dick, then Toma\u2014each in turn fired his rifle\ninto the air as he sprinted for the safety of the rocks.\nThey were clambering up presently, side by side, in the first flurry of\na drenching Spring rain. The wind whipped about them, tearing fitfully\nat their soiled and rent clothing. Somewhere, miles up the river valley,\na crooked flare of light lit up the sky.\nIt was a smothering downpour long before they had reached the top. It\nseemed now as if the earth was slipping under their feet. Water and\ngravel! Curious little patches of sliding wet clay! In places, thick\nmud, ankle deep, oozing out of crevices in the rocks! Yet they went on\nsomehow through a breath-taking torture of exhaustion, contriving\nfinally to pull themselves up over the edge of the canyon wall to the\nfirm, grass-grown space beyond.\nThey had struggled to safety and were, for the present, at least, beyond\nthe fear of immediate pursuit. Something very much like a prayer\nbreathed from Dick\u2019s lips. Sandy had thrown himself to the ground, his\nbody shaking with sobs. With the exception of Toma, who, even in this\nextremity, possessed the untamed, unbeaten spirit of the wild, the\nlittle party had spent its last ounce of endurance and its last spark of\ncourage.\nYet, they had made good their escape. They had come through the Indian\nlines, less than a quarter of a mile from the main encampment. It was an\nachievement worth while. Dick, recovering his breath, sat perfectly\nstill, thrilled and happy as he looked out into the storm.\nHe was recalled from his abstraction by Toma\u2019s voice, almost at his ear.\n\u201cWe go pretty soon an\u2019 find dry place to sleep. What you think?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d he answered, \u201cbut let Sandy rest for a while. This warm rain\nwon\u2019t hurt us.\u201d\nThe youngest member of the trio rolled over, propping himself up on one\nelbow.\n\u201cI\u2019m all right now. I\u2019m ready to go on. I\u2019m so happy I can\u2019t think. If\nthere was ever a time to feel glad for the sparing of three no-account\nlives, it\u2019s tonight.\u201d\nNot long afterward, they crawled into a dense thicket which, though far\nfrom dry, afforded some protection from the steadily falling rain.\n\u201cWake me up early,\u201d Sandy muttered sleepily, as he snuggled down like a\nyoung lynx and closed his eyes.\nDick had started to follow his example, when he noticed that Toma still\nsat like the graven statue of a Hindu god.\n\u201cAren\u2019t you going to lie down?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cNo,\u201d came the rather startling answer, \u201cToma no sleepy tonight.\u201d\nDick stared his unbelief.\n\u201cHow can that be?\u201d he asked incredulously. \u201cToma, if it wasn\u2019t so blamed\ndark, I could look into your face and convince myself you\u2019re lying.\u201d\n\u201cNo dare go sleep tonight.\u201d\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n\u201cForget to wake up. First thing we know Indian come. Just so soon get\nlight, Scar-Face send out party look everywhere. He try find us. We too\nclose encampment yet.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, you deceiving old rascal\u2014\u2014\u201d Dick choked, deeply impressed by the\nother\u2019s unselfishness. \u201cDo you mean to tell me you\u2019d sit here all night\nand keep watch alone?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Toma, \u201cI sit here so I wake you and Sandy before it get\nlight. Then we travel fast. When Indian start look for us we be many\nmiles away.\u201d\n\u201cSo you intend to sacrifice your own comfort for us?\u201d\n\u201cToma no understand.\u201d\nDick crawled over and put his arms about the statuesque figure.\n\u201cLie down, you miserable deceiver,\u201d he purred. \u201cLie down before I pull\nout my hunting knife and scalp you. No wonder we hate you\u2014Sandy and I.\u201d\n\u201cStinging rattlesnakes!\u201d gasped a sleepy voice. \u201cHave you gone suddenly\nmad, Dick? What was that you just said to Toma?\u201d\nDick laughed.\n\u201cListen, Sandy, do you know what this lump of uselessness purposes to\ndo?\u201d\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\u201cStay up all night so he\u2019ll be sure to wake us before dawn.\u201d\n\u201cBut what\u2019s the big idea?\u201d\n\u201cHe doesn\u2019t think we\u2019re safe here, so close to the Indian encampment. He\nthinks Scar-Face\u2019ll send out a scouting party at daybreak.\u201d\n\u201cI never thought of that. Of course, he will,\u201d Sandy had become\ngenuinely alarmed.\n\u201cSo Toma is going to watch while we two lazybones sleep,\u201d Dick\nconcluded.\n\u201cLike fun he is.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve come to the conclusion,\u201d Dick commented dryly, \u201cthat Toma is\ntaking too much responsibility upon himself. He\u2019s not satisfied with\ndoing most of the work; he must do most of the thinking too.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s a terrible state of affairs,\u201d Sandy growled. \u201cWhat will we do with\nhim?\u201d\n\u201cAs duly appointed judge sitting on this case, I propose to make an\nexample of you, John Toma. Prisoner before the bar, with malice\naforethought, I do hereby sentence you to four hours of solitary\nslumber.\u201d\n\u201cWithout benefit of clergy,\u201d supplemented Sandy.\n\u201cWithout benefit of clergy and with his boots on.\u201d\n\u201cMoccasins, your honor,\u201d corrected the prosecuting attorney.\n\u201cAll right,\u201d Dick laughed, \u201cwithout clergy and with moccasins tightly\nstrapped about his ankles. Take him to his cell, sheriff.\u201d\n\u201cI no understand what you try say me,\u201d said the prisoner, a little\nbewildered.\n\u201cYou\u2019re to sleep four hours without stopping while Dick and I keep\nwatch,\u201d Sandy explained.\nIt was exactly three o\u2019clock by Dick\u2019s watch when the three boys emerged\nfrom the thicket to continue their interrupted flight. The rain had\nceased falling and a few stars peeped out from between dark clouds,\nscudding before the wind.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll make a nice wet trail through the wet grass,\u201d Sandy grumbled\nsleepily. \u201cAlmost anybody could follow us.\u201d\n\u201cIt may be more difficult than you think,\u201d Dick was of the opinion. \u201cThe\nsun will be up in an hour, and it won\u2019t take long to dry things off.\u201d\nTheir course away from the river\u2014almost due west\u2014led them across a\nrolling plain in the direction of a high range of hills, beyond which\nwere the mountains. With the coming of daylight, they discerned the gray\noutline of the nearest hill, not more than two miles away.\nThe hill was steep and wide, more like a lofty plateau than a hill.\nTrees and vegetation covered its lower portion, but towards its summit\nthe earth and rocks were perfectly bare.\n\u201cWe\u2019re going to have a good, stiff climb,\u201d Dick remarked. \u201cDo you feel\nequal to it, Sandy?\u201d\nThe person addressed shifted his pack over chafed and burning shoulders.\n\u201cIf I had something to eat, I could make it better.\u201d\n\u201cNo eat \u2019till we get to top,\u201d said Toma. \u201cWe hide better up there.\nIndians see where we are if stop here.\u201d\nIt took an hour of exhausting effort to make the ascent. Very much out\nof breath, limbs shaking with weariness, they stumbled forward a few\npaces, then threw off their shoulder-packs and proceeded to bring forth\nthe meagre store of food that remained to them. Dick divided a bannock\nand a small chunk of bacon.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to eat the bacon raw,\u201d he declared, a slight quaver in his\nvoice. \u201cThere\u2019s no firewood here.\u201d\n\u201cOr water either that I can see,\u201d added Sandy. \u201cIt\u2019s a good thing we\nfilled our water bottles on the way over.\u201d\nTowards the close of the inadequate, barely satisfying meal, Dick, who\nhad been gazing curiously about him, pointed to an opening in the rocks\na few yards away.\n\u201cIt looks as if a sort of path runs through there,\u201d he remarked.\n\u201cDeer-run,\u201d suggested Sandy.\n\u201cWhat would deer be doing up here?\u201d Dick wanted to know.\n\u201cMebbe salt-lick somewhere,\u201d Toma bore out Sandy\u2019s conjecture.\nInvestigation proved that there was a path, clearly defined and\nwell-beaten, a path which wound away towards the center of the plateau.\nFollowing it for a while, the three weary explorers passed through a\nnarrow, broken defile and emerged at length to an opening amongst the\nrocks. They paused in wonder.\nImmediately ahead sparkling like a jewel under the bright rays of the\nmorning sun, was a pool or small lake. A perpendicular wall of sandstone\nrose sheer on one side, but on the other, a little to the right of where\nthe boys were standing, the shoreline was practically unbroken and\nlevel, sloping slightly upward over a grass- and tree-grown space to\nanother wall of sandstone. The whole effect was that of a huge hole or\ndepression sunk into the earth: The small lake occupied one-half of this\ndepression and the green slope the remaining half.\nThe boys stood for several minutes, struck with the beauty and novelty\nof the scene.\n\u201cI don\u2019t care whether that pond\u2019s a thousand feet deep and cold as a\ncake of ice,\u201d Sandy suddenly decided. \u201cI\u2019m going to have a swim in it. A\ncool plunge right now would make me feel like a million dollars.\u201d\nHe laughed as he spoke, but a surprised grunt from Toma quickly drew his\nattention to another quarter. As the guide pointed out the cause of his\nstartled ejaculation, both Dick and Sandy gasped in wonder.\nTwenty feet to their right, a heavy wooded cross reared its awesome\nshape above a mound of earth and rocks.\n\u201cA grave!\u201d whispered Sandy.\n\u201cI\u2019m not sure it is a grave,\u201d said Dick a moment later, as they\napproached to examine the cross.\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cBecause,\u201d Dick looked about carefully, \u201cthere\u2019s no indication of one.\nThe mound and pile of rocks support the cross.\u201d\n\u201cIf that\u2019s the case,\u201d argued Sandy, \u201cwhat was it put here for? People\ndon\u2019t build crosses just for the fun they get out of it.\u201d\n\u201cI realize that. But where\u2019s the grave?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s here somewhere. I feel sure of it.\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s no name carved on the cross,\u201d Dick pointed out. \u201cAnd it isn\u2019t a\nregular cross either. Look here,\u201d he indicated one of the arms. \u201cThe end\nof this is pointed; the other isn\u2019t. It looks like a marker or sign of\nsome sort.\u201d\nSandy stood perfectly still, head on one side, and examined the cross\nspeculatively.\n\u201cDo you suppose\u2014\u2014\u201d he began.\nDick jumped.\n\u201cA marker for the mine! Good heavens! I never thought of that!\u201d\n\u201cIt might be,\u201d said Sandy in an awed, breathless tone.\n\u201cYes, it might.\u201d\n\u201cIt points over there at that perpendicular wall on the other side of\nthe lake.\u201d\n\u201cThe mine couldn\u2019t be under water,\u201d protested Dick.\n\u201cNo, of course not. But it could easily be off somewhere in that general\ndirection.\u201d\n\u201cOver on the other side of the cliff, you mean?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cTell you what,\u201d Dick had become heir to a strange excitement, \u201clet\u2019s\ncontinue following the path up out of this hole and see what we can see.\nWe\u2019ll skirt around to the back of the lake.\u201d\n\u201cIt certainly wouldn\u2019t do any harm.\u201d\nThe path led away across the slope, swerved sharply to the left and came\nto an abrupt stop at the foot of a wall of solid sandstone, more than\nforty feet in height. Cut into the sandstone, to the boys\u2019 utter\namazement, was a rough flight of steps.\n\u201cMay wonders never cease!\u201d gasped Sandy. \u201cWho do you suppose did this?\u201d\n\u201cA path leading down to the water,\u201d cried Dick. \u201cSandy, we\u2019re closer\nnow. I\u2019m convinced of it.\u201d\n\u201cDick, I\u2019m shaking like a leaf.\u201d\nThey went up the steps slowly, Sandy in the lead. Reaching the top, they\npaused again, looking carefully about them.\nWith a wildly beating heart, Dick noticed that the path still threaded\nits way through a veritable graveyard of broken rocks and tomb-shaped\nridges of sandstone.\n                        SANDY EXPLORES THE MINE\nSandy\u2019s whoop of joy was the first intimation Dick had of the actual\ndiscovery of the mine. Unable to suppress his excitement and eagerness,\nthe young Scotchman had loped down the path well in advance of his two\nfriends, and had reached the coveted goal at least five minutes before\nToma and Dick put in their belated appearance.\nSandy was gibbering inanely as Dick stepped up and clapped him on the\nback. They shook hands all around, and then even Toma so far forgot his\ndignity and reserve as to join in an impromptu dance that would have\nshamed a drink-crazed party of South Sea Islanders. Presently Dick held\nup one hand.\n\u201cEnough of this, Sandy. Let\u2019s cool off. We\u2019re actually here at last. But\nwe musn\u2019t take leave of our senses altogether, or play the part of\nfools. I propose that we make a careful inspection of the mine.\u201d\nThe mine proper consisted of a single shallow shaft cut down into the\nrock and shale to a depth of about eight feet. Over the top of the shaft\nstood a windlass, a huge cumbersome affair made out of spruce logs.\n\u201cOur mine is more than half full of water,\u201d laughed Dick, looking down\ninto the shaft. \u201cIt\u2019ll take us a day or more to bail the thing out.\u201d\nFollowing a cursory look around, Dick led the way to a small log cabin,\nwhich stood a short distance back from the mine. It was old and\nconsiderably out of repair. The door had been nailed shut and the\nwindows sealed from the inside. A mud chimney, projecting through the\nroof, had crumbled to decay; and a good deal of the chinking between the\nlogs of the house had dropped out, leaving gaping holes behind.\n\u201cIt\u2019s very nearly useless now,\u201d Sandy observed, shaking his head, \u201cbut I\nhave no doubt we could make it habitable.\u201d\nDick and Toma attempted to pry open the door. They had no tools at their\ndisposal except a small hatchet, the guide always carried with him. By\nusing the blade as a wedge and then hammering upon it with a rock, they\ncontrived finally to force their way into the dark, musty interior.\nEven with the light streaming in from the open doorway, it was at first\nvery difficult to see very clearly to every part of the cabin. A mud\nfire-place, a rough bench and table comprised the furnishings of the\nroom. Propped against the wall on one side were a few mining tools,\nincluding a small pick, a coil of rope and a shovel. A large bucket\nwhich, judging from its shape and general appearance, had been carved\nout of a pine log, stood in one corner.\nFurther examination on the part of the three boys proved unavailing.\nLittle more of interest was found until Toma, prowling about, discovered\na trap door, which had been cut through the scored logs in the floor.\nThe trap was ponderous and heavy, stubbornly refusing to come up. It was\nraised, at length, through the combined efforts of the excited trio, who\npeered down into the dark hole, faces alight with interest.\n\u201cLooks very much like a deep cellar,\u201d said Sandy, with a sharp intake of\nbreath. \u201cBut what was it used for?\u201d\nDick lit a match in an effort to see below. The tiny flame flared up for\na moment, then went out. A second, third and fourth match\u2014\u2014\n\u201cNo use!\u201d impatiently Dick threw the box to the floor and sat down with\nhis feet dangling through the trap. \u201cThere\u2019s a draft coming up out of\nhere. Wish I had my old pocket light.\u201d\n\u201cMove aside,\u201d ordered Sandy. \u201cI\u2019m going down.\u201d\n\u201cIt may be deep,\u201d objected Dick. \u201cLet\u2019s get a pole and find out.\u201d\nHe had risen to go outside for the pole, when Sandy pushed quickly\nforward, swung out over the trap and let himself down to his full\nlength, holding on by his hands.\n\u201cDon\u2019t let go!\u201d warned Dick, swinging around abruptly. \u201cYou don\u2019t know\nwhat\u2019s down there. Be careful, Sandy!\u201d\nSandy grinned up provokingly, like a young ape bent on mischief,\nreleased his grip on the floor and disappeared forthwith. A low thud,\ncoming up from below, attested to the fact that he had reached bottom.\nToma\u2019s annoyed grunt and Dick\u2019s terrified exclamation, preceded a short\nbut oppressive silence.\nWas Sandy hurt? Pale and trembling, Dick stared into the black pit\nbeneath and attempted to call out. His breath seemed to rattle in his\nthroat.\n\u201cAre you hurt?\u201d he finally contrived to squeak.\nNo answer.\n\u201cAre you there, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cHeigh ho up there!\u201d came a firm and confident voice. \u201cThrow down that\nbox of matches.\u201d\nToma and Dick breathed a sigh of relief. The matches were dropped down.\nIn an incredibly short space, a small flame partially lit up the dank\ninterior and soon after began flickering and bobbing about like a large\nfirefly.\n\u201cWhat luck?\u201d Dick called out.\nSandy, bent on exploration, was too busy to reply. Match after match\nflared brightly, burned down to a stub, and was swallowed up in the inky\nmaw of the hole.\n\u201cCan you pull me out of this?\u201d Sandy asked finally, when Dick\u2019s patience\nhad been worn to a shred. \u201cI figure I\u2019m about fourteen feet down. Didn\u2019t\nI see a coil of rope up there?\u201d\nSandy was pulled up through the trap a short time later, blinking as his\neyes met the glare of light from the doorway. In spite of his effort to\nappear unconcerned, it was apparent that he was gripped in some strong\nemotion.\n\u201cWhat did you find, Sandy?\u201d\nThe eyes of the young Scotchman gleamed queerly.\n\u201cThere\u2019s gold down there,\u201d he exploded. \u201cLoads of it! Sacks and sacks of\ngold, Dick, piled up down there in moose-hide sacks, waiting to be\ncarried away!\u201d\nFor a brief interval Dick was incapable of speech.\n\u201cGo-o-ld!\u201d he stammered.\n\u201cYes, gold!\u2014thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars worth, I\nguess.\u201d\nDick\u2019s eyes were popping.\n\u201cSo they hid it there.\u201d\n\u201cHid nothing!\u201d Sandy was pacing back and forth in his excitement. \u201cThe\nreal mine\u2019s down there, I tell you. Right under our feet.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t believe it.\u201d\n\u201cGo down and see for yourself,\u201d shrieked Sandy. \u201cIt\u2019s there,\u2014it\u2019s there,\nI tell you! Passages lead out three ways from that main hole or shaft. I\ncould see them.\u201d\n\u201cAnd those moose-hide sacks?\u201d\n\u201cAt one side of the shaft, directly under this room.\u201d\n\u201cBut where did they dump the rock and gravel that came out of those\npassages?\u201d Dick asked incredulously. \u201cIt didn\u2019t just disappear, did it?\nTons and tons of earth and rock must have been moved in order to get the\ngold.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t explain it,\u201d Sandy admitted, somewhat defiantly. \u201cAll I know is\nthat it was moved somewhere. The real mine is down there.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll start exploring it at once,\u201d Dick decided. \u201cI\u2019ll make some sort\nof miner\u2019s lamp and we\u2019ll all go down. What do you say?\u201d\nA fever of excitement had seized upon them. Hunger and weariness, the\nfear of pursuit\u2014everything was forgotten in the obsession of the moment.\nSandy moved about with an accustomed lightness in his step; Dick had\nbecome over-eager and impatient. Of the three, Toma alone remained\nunshaken and indifferent.\n\u201cWhy you so hurry go see mine?\u201d he demanded of Dick, during a lull in\ntheir preparations. \u201cYou think mine run away, eh?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, no.\u201d\n\u201cHow you feel if Indian come pretty soon an\u2019 no ready for him?\u201d\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d\n\u201cIndian pretty sure come bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye.\u201d\n\u201cWell, what of it?\u201d\n\u201cDick,\u201d admonished the guide, \u201cyou, Sandy no think today. No think at\nall. Crazy like fool. What good is mine today if get killed tomorrow?\u201d\n\u201cLook here, old Trouble-Face,\u201d Sandy sang out, \u201cyou\u2019re a joy killer. I\ndon\u2019t think there\u2019s the least bit of danger.\u201d\n\u201cDanger all time,\u201d stubbornly persisted Toma.\nDick\u2019s eyes wandered back to the trap in the floor. He visualized the\nmoose-hide sacks, bulging with gold. He wondered if Sandy had not been\nmistaken about those three passages.\n\u201cThe Indians won\u2019t come today,\u201d he decided.\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Toma. Besides\u2014\u2014\u201d\nHe paused to watch Sandy throw the coil of rope into the shaft and then\nwalk back and tie the end, still in his hands, to a large iron hook in\nthe wall\u2014a hook that had, apparently, been put there for that express\npurpose.\nHe turned again to Toma.\n\u201cCome on, let\u2019s go down. It\u2019ll take only a few minutes.\u201d\nTo his surprise, the guide shrugged his shoulders and turned away. As\nDick lowered himself through the trap, Toma strode to the doorway and\nstood looking out across the shimmering, sunlit vista of rocks and\nsandstone.\n                       IN THE TOILS OF HENDERSON\nReturning to the main shaft, following a tour of exploration through the\nmine, Dick and Sandy were staggered by the discovery that during their\nabsence some one had removed the rope and had closed the trap. Darkness\nenveloped them. The stream of light, which had poured through the wide\nopening in the floor of the cabin, had been cut off. The shock of the\ndiscovery for a moment unnerved the two young adventurers. The thing was\nincredible\u2014almost past belief! Sandy raised his candle aloft and stared\nup through its flickering light. Dick smothered a cry, then stood\nmopping his perspiring face, too dumbfounded for words.\nAfter the first shock of surprise, it occurred to Dick that Toma was\nplaying a joke upon them. Piqued and resentful because of his and\nSandy\u2019s refusal to postpone the exploration of the mine, their guide had\nprobably decided to teach them a lesson. No doubt, he wanted to frighten\nthem a little in his effort to revenge his wounded feelings. Such an\nexplanation seemed reasonable enough. It caused Dick to smile to himself\nand presently to chuckle aloud:\n\u201cToma\u2019s done this, Sandy. The old boy\u2019s a little peeved because we\nwouldn\u2019t listen to him. If we wait here a few minutes, he\u2019ll relent and\nopen the trap.\u201d\nThey waited in silence. Sandy nudged Dick and laughed. In order to pass\nthe time quickly, they went over and commenced to examine the sacks of\ngold, piled against one side of the shaft.\nTen, fifteen, twenty minutes\u2014and no sound from Toma! Dick sat down and\nbegan mopping his face again. Sandy blew out his candle, grumbling to\nhimself.\n\u201cA joke has its limits,\u201d he sputtered. \u201cIn about two more seconds\u2014\u2014\u201d\nFootfalls sounded overhead. A low rumble of voices, a clatter of\nsomething on the floor\u2014and the trap came open. Light streamed down,\nlighting up the shaft.\n\u201cBear!\u201d exclaimed an unfamiliar voice. \u201cBetter keep back. They\u2019re\narmed!\u201d\n\u201cNo, I tell yuh, we got their rifles. Fink,\u201d the tone was overbearing\nand threatening, \u201cget a move on an\u2019 throw down that rope.\u201d\nThe rope came down with a dull thud. Then the voice:\n\u201cGet out o\u2019 that. Scramble up that rope. You\u2019re both down there\u2014we know\nit.\u201d\nA string of blasphemous oaths accompanied the sharp command. Sandy\nshrank back close to Dick. They were both shaking with terror.\n\u201cDo yuh hear!\u201d screamed Henderson, enraged at the delay. \u201cYour game\u2019s\nup, I tell yuh. I\u2019m givin\u2019 yuh just five minutes to come outta that\nhole.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t,\u201d moaned Sandy. \u201cI can\u2019t, Dick!\u201d\nWith difficulty, Dick was gaining control of himself.\n\u201cWe must, Sandy,\u201d he quavered. \u201cThere\u2019s no help for it. They have the\nupper hand now. Let me help you to your feet.\u201d\nSandy could scarcely stand. He trembled, and raised a white, pathetic\nface to the opening.\n\u201cWe\u2019re coming, Henderson,\u201d Dick called out, his voice ringing\ntragically.\nSlowly, tremblingly, they went up. Dick\u2019s head, then his shoulders\nprojected through the opening. Strong, rough arms yanked him forward\nwith a force so violent that his jaws snapped. He was lying on the floor\nnow, Sandy beside him. The leering, uncouth faces above were faces\nwithout pity. A circle of eyes, like those of hungry wolves, glared down\nat them. Big, powerful\u2014a tower of brute strength and wickedness\u2014Bear\nHenderson stormed through the group of men, cursing roundly.\n\u201cTruss \u2019em up! Truss \u2019em up, you fools. Think we got all day to stand\naround in. Flick\u2014bring that rope!\u201d\nThe boys were bound hand and foot, then dragged across the floor and\nkicked into a corner. Through a smother of dust, Dick perceived that the\nparty of outlaws were preparing to make a descent into the mine. Above\nthe din and confusion, came the hoarse, bellowed orders of Henderson.\nOne by one, the moose-hide sacks, containing the gold stored in the\nshaft, were lifted up through the trap. A perfect bedlam of cries and\nshouts arose. Order was forgotten. Sweating men, their faces distorted\nwith greed and passion, clawed over the precious metal, snarling like\nbeasts.\nFor a time it looked as if Henderson might lose control of the outlaws.\nWith one exception, every man cursed and fought around the moose-hide\nsacks, turning deaf ears to their leader. This rebellion against\nauthority transformed Henderson from the brute he was to a glaring-eyed\nmadman. Never before in all his life had Dick seen anything to equal the\nawful fury of the man, as he leaped here and there through that pack of\nhuman wolves and beat them into submission.\nIn less than five minutes, the man, called Flick, was the only one left\nof the cowering band who dared to dispute its leader\u2019s authority. Flick\nhad backed away, nursing a cut over his right eye, blood trickling down\nhis face. His cheeks were livid. As Henderson rushed towards him, a\nknife gleamed and whirred through the air, missing the outlaw by a scant\ntwo inches. A short time later Baptiste La Lond, the only one of the\nparty who had shown little interest in the sacks of gold, proceeded to\nremove the unconscious body of Flick. He accomplished this task by the\nsimple expedient of dragging it out by the heels, yanking it brutally\nalong the floor, through the doorway and thence outside.\nImmediately the room became more quiet. With a jerk of his head,\nHenderson tossed back his mop of yellow hair and wiped his face with the\nback of one hairy hand.\n\u201cAny more o\u2019 yuh devils lookin\u2019 fer trouble\u2014step out!\u201d\nNo one moved. Sulky faces, many of them battered almost to a pulp, were\ncast down; shoulders drooped in dejection. Not even the breath of a\nmurmur stirred through their broken ranks.\n\u201cYuh got us licked, Bear, an\u2019 yuh know it,\u201d trembled one of the outlaws.\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t mean no harm jes\u2019 lookin\u2019 at that gold. There ain\u2019t a nugget\nmissin\u2019.\u201d\n\u201cNo, I suppose not,\u201d snarled their chief. \u201cCouldn\u2019t see nothin\u2019, could\nI? Empty yer pockets fer I knock yuh all down again!\u201d\nHastily, they complied. In spite of the torture of the rope that bound\nhim, Dick choked back a laugh as each one brought to light handful after\nhandful of the tell-tale nuggets and passed them over to their brutal\nmaster.\nReturning from his gentle mission, Baptiste La Lond sauntered through\nthe door and made his way unhesitatingly over to the corner where Dick\nand Sandy lay.\n\u201cAh, ze pretty mounted police boy,\u201d he chortled, prodding Dick with his\nfoot. \u201cWhere is ze fine uniform now?\u201d\nDick stared back in defiance, but made no answer.\n\u201cPardon, monsieur!\u201d Mockingly, La Lond bowed low before him. Then he\nturned to the outlaws with what he considered to be a humorous gesture.\n\u201cZe leetle boy ees feel sick now\u2014so veree sick. He not feel lak talk\ntoday.\u201d\nOne or two of the outlaws guffawed loudly.\n\u201cCome out o\u2019 that!\u201d growled Henderson. \u201cLeave that boy alone. We got\nwork to do.\u201d\nBaptiste cringed and slunk away from the corner. Turning upon his men,\nHenderson raised his voice: \u201cListen tuh me, yuh yellow skunks\u2014I\u2019m boss\no\u2019 this party. If yuh don\u2019t believe it, jes\u2019 try some more o\u2019 your funny\ntricks. None o\u2019 this gold ain\u2019t gonna be divided \u2019til we get back. The\npolice won\u2019t find much when they come. Do yuh understand?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d came the cowed answer.\n\u201cAll right!\u201d The outlaw glared about him threateningly before he\nproceeded: \u201cNow, I\u2019ll tell yuh somethin\u2019: We got jes\u2019 five days to get\nwhat we can outta this mine. I\u2019m gonna strip it. These few sacks here\nain\u2019t all we\u2019re gonna get.\u201d\n\u201cHow do yuh figger yer gonna do it?\u201d inquired the man who had previously\nspoken.\n\u201cWork!\u201d boomed Henderson. \u201cWe\u2019re gonna work this mine four days an\u2019 four\nnights like it\u2019s never been worked before. Not countin\u2019 them two boys\nover there, there\u2019s ten o\u2019 us. Scar-Face\u2019ll bring up a few Indians an\u2019\nI\u2019m gonna make them get busy too. I\u2019m plannin\u2019 to run two shifts fer\neach one o\u2019 the shafts. Any o\u2019 yuh got any objections?\u201d he inquired\nbelligerently.\n\u201cZe more we get, monsieur, ze more we divide,\u201d Baptiste pointed out.\n\u201cSure! That\u2019s what I\u2019m tryin\u2019 to tell yuh. Now, as I said before, the\npolice is comin\u2019. One o\u2019 my Indian runners was here last night with the\nnews. We gotta work fast an\u2019 we gotta work sure. If there\u2019s any way o\u2019\nwreckin\u2019 the mine before we go, I\u2019m gonna do it.\u201d\n\u201cWe ought to be able to stop the police, Bear,\u201d one of the men declared.\n\u201cWhat for? There ain\u2019t no sense to it. If yuh devils is willin\u2019 to work,\nwe can clean up plenty in a few days.\u201d\nGreed and avarice was without doubt the only real bond that held the\noutlaws together. Even the domineering force and brutality of Henderson\nwould have been inadequate to cope for any length of time with so\nmurderous a crew. At thought of the great wealth lying in store for\nthem, the sulky, glowering looks, that were cast in the direction of\ntheir leader, faded. The tension slackened. In a very few minutes the\nroom was noisy again\u2014the scene of bustling and excited activity.\nThe afternoon and evening wore on. In their corner, Dick and Sandy\npassed through an ordeal of suffering that had sapped even their rugged\nendurance. They lay now with closed eyes, moaning in their sleep. The\nlips of each were dry and cracked. Dust choked their nostrils. Ankles\nand wrists throbbed and pained from the constant friction and pressure\nof the rope with which the outlaws had bound them.\nIt was not until the following morning that Henderson deigned to notice\nthem. Nor was it pity that prompted him to bellow out at the top of his\nvoice:\n\u201cBaptiste, untie them two young swine an\u2019 put \u2019em to work. We need ever\u2019\navailable man. You can take charge of the outfit that\u2019s workin\u2019 outside\non that new shaft.\u201d\nThis was the sort of thing that Baptiste did well. He pounced down upon\nthe benumbed and thirst-crazed pair with a whoop of delight. He untied\ntheir bonds and kicked them to their feet, grinning in derision as they\nswayed there, totally unable to stand. He shook them roughly, leering\ninto their bloodshot eyes.\n\u201cAh, ze pretty boys,\u201d he crooned, \u201czey will wake up to come with their\nveree good friend, Baptiste. What you think about that, eh?\u201d\n\u201cStop it!\u201d thundered Henderson, as he turned to go down through the\ntrap. \u201cThere ain\u2019t no time to fool. Them boys\u2019ll be all right in a few\nminutes. Rub their legs. Go an\u2019 fetch \u2019em some grub.\u201d\nBy the time Baptiste had returned, the blood had commenced to circulate\nin Dick\u2019s and Sandy\u2019s swollen limbs, but it was nearly two hours before\nthey were able to stagger forth to join the party of Indian workers, who\nwere engaged at that particular moment in bailing water from the shaft\nsituated about one hundred yards from the cabin.\nIn the group, very much to the boys\u2019 surprise, was Toma. Their guide\nstood turning the handle of the windlass as they approached, and, except\nfor a faint flicker in his eyes, one might have thought that the tall,\nlithe Indian lad looked upon the two newcomers for the first time in his\nlife. Impassively he went on with his work when Dick and Sandy took\ntheir places with the rest and were given instructions by Baptiste.\n\u201cI\u2019ll be here to watch you veree close,\u201d he warned them. \u201cEt ees a good\nthing for you ef you move veree quick when I say.\u201d\nConcluding this threatening speech, he pushed them roughly in the\ndirection of two wooden buckets, and bade them commence at once. Dick\nwas raging with suppressed anger; Sandy was furious. They picked up the\nbuckets, nevertheless, and walked back to the shaft. Greatly pleased\nwith himself, Baptiste sat down on a flat rock and puffed contentedly on\nhis pipe.\nIn the very next moment, the boys were given their first opportunity to\nlook directly into the eyes of Toma, and were rewarded with a sly wink.\nPretending to brush the perspiration from his face, Toma\u2019s finger stole\nto his lips.\nEither Dick or Sandy would have given a good deal just then to have been\nable to speak to their guide. But they realized that this was\nimpossible. Baptiste\u2019s duty it was to see that the work progressed\nrapidly and Henderson had given strict orders that there was to be no\ntalking. To disobey this ironclad rule would result in swift punishment,\neither at the hands of La Lond or some other person equally as brutal.\nIt did not take the boys long to discover that Baptiste was a hard\ntaskmaster. He was continually among them, exhorting them to redouble\ntheir efforts and speed up the work, bullying and tormenting them in\nevery way possible. On one occasion he jabbed Toma in the ribs with the\nmuzzle of his revolver and threatened to throw him down the shaft if he\ndidn\u2019t step more lively.\nToma blinked, but held his peace. In a few minutes his face was as\ninscrutable as ever.\nThe work party at the new shaft consisted of four persons besides Dick,\nToma and Sandy. These four were Indians recruited for the purpose from\nthe tribe with whom Scar-Face had aligned himself. They were all tall,\nswarthy young men of about Dick\u2019s own age. They had entered upon their\nduties with a good deal of enthusiasm, but at the end of an hour or two,\nthe uninteresting, monotonous work palled upon them. Shortly after\nDick\u2019s and Sandy\u2019s arrival, they had begun to regret their promises to\nScar-Face and slackened down on the job.\nThis action on their part placed Baptiste in a rather peculiar position.\nNeither could he speak their language, nor dare to employ the brutal\nmethods he did not hesitate to use in the case of the three prisoners.\nTime and time again, he strode forward with grim purpose in his eyes,\nonly to check himself, growl out a burning oath and return sullenly to\nhis seat on the rock. A climax was reached finally when Henderson, on\nhis regular round of inspection, paused to peep down in the shaft.\nHis sudden, violent verbal explosive caused every member of the work\nparty, including Baptiste, to jump.\n\u201cThis water ain\u2019t goin\u2019 down a danged inch,\u201d he snarled. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d\n\u201cAh, monsieur\u2014\u2014\u201d La Lond wrung his hands in desperation. \u201cAh, monsieur,\nzer ees a veree great trouble. Ze Indians, ze Indians, monsieur!\u201d\n\u201cWell, what about \u2019em?\u201d\n\u201cZey will not hurry one leetle bit. Zey are veree slow, veree slow,\nmonsieur.\u201d\nHenderson flung himself away with a torrent of oaths.\n\u201cMake \u2019em work!\u201d he bellowed over his shoulder. \u201cIf there ain\u2019t more\ndone when I come back next time\u2014look out! I\u2019m holdin\u2019 yuh responsible,\nLa Lond. Get busy!\u201d\nBaptiste proceeded to get busy with a vengeance. Smarting under the\nrebuke, he advanced savagely upon his unsuspecting workmen, brandishing\nhis gun. Before his furious advance, three of the Indians scrambled back\nto their buckets in alarm. The fourth, Dick observed, was not so easily\nfrightened. He stood his ground calmly, drew himself to his full height\nand folded his arms. Dick\u2019s heart beat with admiration\u2014but only for a\nmoment; for La Lond\u2019s hand went back, revolver clubbed, then forward\nwith a sickening thud.\nThe blow had caught the Indian squarely on the side of the head,\nknocking him flat. At sight of such inexcusable brutality, something\nwithin Dick seemed to snap. Leaping across the space that separated him\nfrom the outlaw, he struck out with all the force of his right arm.\nBaptiste sat down with a grunt.\nHe was still sitting there when Henderson, drawn by the commotion and\nthe loud screech from Sandy, came hurrying up.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong here?\u201d he thundered.\nBaptiste was too dazed just then to make a very satisfactory reply.\nHolding his chin in his hands, he mumbled incoherently. Dick looked up\nsquarely into the eyes of Henderson.\n\u201cI struck Baptiste myself,\u201d he acknowledged.\n\u201cWhat fer?\u201d\n\u201cBecause he clubbed the Indian with his gun.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll settle with yuh later,\u201d Henderson scowled, making a sudden swipe\nat Dick with his open hand. \u201cGet back to work. Get back to work all o\u2019\nyuh. Hereafter, I\u2019m runnin\u2019 this little show.\u201d\nIt was several minutes before the Indian recovered consciousness and\nstaggered to his feet, his three comrades gathered about him. The four\nof them glared at Baptiste, who stood cowering in front of Henderson.\n\u201cBaptiste,\u201d roared the outlaw, \u201cgo and fetch Scar-Face. Tell him I want\nto see him. Tell him that I want to see him blamed quick. Either these\nIndians is gonna start to work or I\u2019ll know the reason why. Yuh shore\nmade a pretty mess o\u2019 things, ain\u2019t yuh?\u201d\n\u201cEt ees impossible, monsieur. Scar-Face has gone to ze Indian village.\u201d\n\u201cFind some other breed then what can talk to these Nitchies. Get!\u201d\nBaptiste had no sooner slunk out of sight, than the four Indians,\nfavoring Henderson with a few chilling glances, started off across the\nrugged slope toward the footpath, supporting their injured companion. In\nvain did Henderson call out, entreating them to return. The four figures\ndid not hesitate, did not once look back until they had gained the more\neven ground on the slope beyond. Then one of them turned, waving his\narms defiantly in the air.\nA flood of abusive oaths broke forth from the lips of the exasperated\noutlaw.\n\u201cGo on! Go on!\u201d he screeched after them. \u201cYuh, ain\u2019t no good anyway. Yuh\nain\u2019t no good fer nothin\u2019, yuh yellow scum!\u201d\nWith a final livid oath, he turned quickly and strode away in the\ndirection of the cabin.\n                       HENDERSON\u2019S PLANS MISCARRY\n\u201cHe doesn\u2019t seem to care whether we run away or not,\u201d observed Sandy,\nwhen the outlaw had passed out of hearing. \u201cShall we make a try, Dick?\u201d\nDick shook his head.\n\u201cWe wouldn\u2019t go far. I\u2019d rather stay here and take my chances.\u201d\nToma dropped the handle of the windlass and walked over to his two\nfriends. His eyes were shining.\n\u201cYou think I play mean trick when I drop trap yesterday,\u201d he began. \u201cI\nthink mebbe you feel mad at Toma.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d protested Dick, \u201cbut tell us how it all happened. What did they\ndo, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cI stand look out door mebbe not more than ten minutes, when I see\nplenty men come along ridge. No time to do much. Henderson close\nalready. No good shoot; no good run away. First thing I think about you\nan\u2019 Sandy. I try shout down hole, but you no hear. Men come closer all\ntime. I run to door then back to hole. I shout once more, but you no\nhear. Pretty soon I have good idea. I think mebbe I close trap and\nscrape dust over it. Henderson him not find where you, Sandy are. By\ntime I pull up rope and close hole bad fellows just outside cabin. When\nthey come in, I give up. Fellows take our guns. Henderson speak out:\n\u201c\u2018Where other fellow go?\u2019\n\u201cI tell him lie. I say you, Sandy run away. He no believe that. He see\nyou, Sandy gun an\u2019 shoulder-pack. He ask me many, many times where you\ngo, but always I tell him same thing. Bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye one bad fellow pull\nknife an\u2019 prick me three, four, five times so it hurt very much. He keep\non until I stand it no longer, so I tell him where you, Sandy go, an\u2019\nwhere he find \u2019em plenty sacks of gold.\u201d\nAs proof of the truth of his story, Toma opened his shirt, exhibiting\nhis bare, scarred breast. Sandy turned away, a mist filming his eyes.\nHere indeed was conclusive proof of the terrible ordeal through which\nToma had passed.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll pay for this all some day,\u201d Dick prophesied. \u201cThey can\u2019t keep\non doing these awful things and expect never to be punished for them.\u201d\nIt was late that night before they were relieved from their arduous\nlabors and were permitted to eat or rest. Accompanied by one of the\noutlaws, they were sent back to an opening among the rocks, where a camp\nhad been erected during the afternoon. At one side of the camp was a\nlarge tepee, which served as a sort of mess-hall for the men, while on\nthe opposite side, flanked by rocks and somewhat sheltered by them, was\na level strip of ground which afforded ample room for sleeping.\nThey ate supper in the tepee with several of the other men and when they\nhad finished their guide led them over to the space reserved for\nsleeping quarters.\n\u201cYuh can roll out your blankets here,\u201d he said gruffly. \u201cBut yuh better\nkeep your traps closed if yuh don\u2019t want to get in trouble.\u201d\nAlthough it was not yet dark, Dick\u2019s watch showed that it was after\neleven o\u2019clock. Northern twilight, brooding across the land, lent a\ncertain weirdness and eeriness to the camp. Here and there, beyond the\nsleeping forms of Henderson\u2019s first shift, blinked the red embers of\nseveral campfires. Around one of these were three outlaws, drinking from\na large bottle. Their coarse voices and loud disputes could be plainly\nheard by the boys. As Dick lay watching them, unable to sleep, he\nobserved the approach of two other men, whose figures seemed somehow\nvaguely familiar. Passing by, on their way over to the three tipplers,\nhe recognized them immediately. They were Lee and Pierre, the two\npackers, who had deserted his own party less than a week before.\nDick was on the verge of waking Sandy to inform him of this discovery,\nwhen a third person, no other than Henderson himself, made his way\nhastily forward and paused just a few feet away from where the three\nboys lay.\n\u201cAre yuh there, Brennan?\u201d he called out.\n\u201cYep,\u201d one of the men answered from the campfire.\n\u201cCome here!\u201d\nBrennan lost no time in obeying the summons.\n\u201cYes, Bear, what is it?\u201d\n\u201cScar-Face jes\u2019 got back to camp from the river,\u201d Henderson informed\nhim. \u201cHe tells me that we\u2019d better watch out fer the Indians tonight.\nThey\u2019re gettin\u2019 dangerous. The hull outfit is buzzin\u2019 around like a\nswarm of mad hornets. He thinks they\u2019re comin\u2019 over.\u201d\n\u201cWhat fer?\u201d\nHenderson cleared his throat.\n\u201cAll on account o\u2019 that Indian kid La Lond cracked over the head this\nafternoon. He\u2019s the chief\u2019s son.\nBrennan laughed. Alcohol had given him unlimited courage\u2014of a sort. Just\nthen he was worried more about the diminishing contents of the bottle\nthan the chance possibility of an attack by Indians.\n\u201cLet \u2019em come,\u201d he declared drunkenly. \u201cWhat do we care? You ain\u2019t\nafraid of a few Nitchies with bows an\u2019 arrers, are yuh, Bear?\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s close to two hundred of \u2019em, not countin\u2019 a few strays they may\nbe able to pick up. We ain\u2019t got fifteen men.\u201d\n\u201cWell, what do yuh think we\u2019d better do?\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t think\u2014I know. That\u2019s what I came all the way over here fer.\nWake up all the men, except them three kids, an\u2019 give \u2019em rifles. Tell\n\u2019em to be ready an\u2019 waitin\u2019 in case the Indians decide to come over. I\ngotta supply of guns an\u2019 ammunition over at the cabin, an\u2019 I\u2019ll look\nafter that end if you\u2019ll look after this.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s no danger,\u201d argued Brennan. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you send\nScar-Face back to sorta quiet \u2019em down?\u201d\n\u201cScar-Face has got a broken arrow in him already. He won\u2019t live \u2019til\nmornin\u2019.\u201d\nBrennan considered this startling news for a brief space.\n\u201cAll right, I\u2019ll do as you say, Bear.\u201d\nWhen Brennan and Henderson had left, Dick lay quietly, pondering over\nthe information. Were the Indians really planning an attack? Would they\ndare to do such a thing, fearful as they were of the white man\u2019s guns?\nHe sat up, blankets tucked around him, and listened intently, half\nexpecting to hear the sound of the invaders prowling around in the rocks\nabove. Brennan had returned to his cronies and regaled them with the\nconversation he had had with Henderson. Loud bursts of drunken laughter\nfollowed the recital.\n\u201cThe ol\u2019 man\u2019s gettin\u2019 so he\u2019s afeared of his own shadow,\u201d chortled one\nof them. \u201c\u2019Magine them Nitchies tryin\u2019 to attack us. It don\u2019t make\nsense. Why I ain\u2019t a bit scairt to fight the hull blamed outfit alone.\nPah!\u201d\n\u201cHe told me to wake up ever\u2019body an\u2019 give \u2019em guns,\u201d giggled Brennan.\nAnother roar of laughter greeted this remark. When it had subsided,\nPierre, amid wild shouts of approval, produced a second bottle from\nsomewhere about his person, took a long draught himself, and passed it\naround.\nIt was the beginning of a mad debauch. In disgust, Dick turned his head\nand silently regarded the forms of his two sleeping companions. Should\nhe awaken them? For a moment he hesitated. He put out one hand toward\nSandy, gently touching the face of his chum, smoothing back the lock of\nhair that had fallen over the tired forehead.\nAn outlandish yowl sounded from the direction of the campfire. The noise\nhad disturbed Toma, for he stirred restlessly and finally sat up.\n\u201cWhat I hear?\u201d he demanded sleepily.\n\u201cA few drunken fools\u2014\u2014\u201d began Dick.\nHe did not complete the sentence. A concerted, nerve-wracking screech\nbroke across the area above them. Its echo trembled for a moment in the\nstill air, then suddenly the camp filled, as if by a miracle, with\nscores of hideous forms, darting here and there through the gathering\ndarkness.\nIt was an avenging red fury that swept down upon them.\nHuddled in his blankets, Dick beheld a sight that caused him to shrink\nback in mute terror. The camp was alive with invaders. Hideous shouts\nrose on all sides. Rifles crashed. Through the gray twilight, appearing\nlike scurrying phantoms from another world, the attacking party had\nhurled itself upon the outlaws\u2019 encampment.\nBrennan and his four companions had been among the first to attempt\nflight. In desperation, reeling drunkenly as they hurried along, they\nstruck out in the direction of the cabin three hundred yards away. As\nthey passed opposite the three boys, four grisly forms leaped out from\nthe rocks just ahead and darted towards them. Dick could hear the\ncourageous Brennan squeaking like a rat before he turned again to make\noff. Without thought of the possible consequences, they had swung about\nand raced wildly back, screaming at the top of their lungs.\nThe din and commotion increased. Over at the mine a furious fusillade of\nrifle shots attested to the fact that Henderson and the other outlaws,\nwho occupied the cabin, were resisting stubbornly every effort on the\npart of the Indians to storm the stronghold. The shouting had become\ndeafening. Pine torches in the hands of scores of the besiegers began\nfluttering across the slope, thence up to the cabin. In an incredibly\nshort space of time a dense cloud of smoke enveloped the low structure.\nWide tongues of flame leaped up, mounting quickly to every part of the\nbuilding.\nSince the beginning of the attack, the three boys had made no effort to\nescape. Sandy, weak with terror, clung to Dick while Dick himself,\nnearly as badly frightened, sat shivering close to Toma. On several\noccasions Indians had passed within a few feet of them, but had gone on.\nIt occurred to Dick that the reason their presence had not yet been\ndiscovered was because they had pitched their blankets at the very foot\nof the cliff, where the shadows were deepest. This thought gave birth to\nan inspiration. A ray of hope flashed into Dick\u2019s mind. Would it not be\npossible, keeping within the dark shadow of the cliff, to creep along to\nthe far side of the encampment undetected, thence make their way up\nthrough the sheltering rocks to the top of the plateau? It was perhaps a\nforlorn hope, yet it offered possibilities.\nIn a low whisper, Dick told of his plan. A moment later the three boys\ncrept stealthily forth with wildly beating hearts. Inch by inch, they\nwormed their way over the uneven ground. It required a full half hour of\nceaseless, uninterrupted crawling to negotiate the eastern side of the\nwide, natural opening among the rocks. Scarcely daring to breathe, they\ncommenced the ascent. It was darker now, but the glaring reflection from\nthe burning cabin fell across their path directly above.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll see us up there,\u201d Sandy panted. \u201cWe can\u2019t make it.\u201d\n\u201cOur only chance,\u201d returned Dick. \u201cCome on!\u201d\nThey reached the top of the plateau in a panic of fear. Had they been\nseen? Dick put one shaking hand on Sandy\u2019s shoulder and pointed to a low\nbarrier of rocks.\n\u201cMake for it!\u201d he quavered, gulping at the lump in his throat.\nThey broke into a run. Thirty, forty, fifty yards\u2014they were tearing\nalong now at top speed, hurdling the low obstructions, darting around\nthe higher slabs of sandstone that stood in their road. Madly they raced\nfor another twenty yards\u2014and stopped!\nThey had run straight into the arms of two powerful Indians. It had been\nimpossible to see them coming. Dick checked himself so suddenly that he\nnearly fell. Sandy emitted a startled, agonized shriek, while Toma,\nunable to stop, plunged ahead, colliding with the foremost of their\nadversaries and sent him reeling back with crushing force against a\nrock.\nDick and the second Indian came to grips a moment later. A\nmurderous-looking knife flashed down in a short half-circle, but Sandy\nseized the hand that held it and clung grimly there until Dick had\ncontrived to tear himself away from the smothering embrace. He was\ngasping for breath as he drew back. Encumbered with Sandy, the Indian\nshook himself like a huge mastiff, but Dick\u2019s clinched fist drove\nforward with telling effect. Seeing their temporary advantage, the boys\nwere away again in a rush, Toma\u2014somewhat dazed by the collision\u2014bringing\nup the rear.\nAs they raced farther and farther away from the encampment, hope mounted\nin their breasts.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll get away yet,\u201d Dick puffed. \u201cWe\u2019ll make it, Sandy. Don\u2019t lose\nheart.\u201d\nThey crossed a narrow swale, still running at top speed, and, continuing\neastward, came at length to a small meadow which extended to one side of\nthe plateau. The thickening dusk had become darkness. Far behind them\nthey could hear only faintly the noise of the attack. The red glow of\nthe burning cabin had almost subsided. The three boys tumbled in the\ngrass and lay still. Their breath came in choking gasps. Perspiration\noozed out from every pore in their bodies.\nPausing only for a short rest, they hurried on again, turning more to\nthe northward. Once or twice Dick or Sandy stopped to listen, fearful\nlest the two Indians they had encountered might be following them.\n\u201cI can\u2019t believe we\u2019ve managed to get away so easily,\u201d Dick declared.\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t seem possible,\u201d replied Sandy. \u201cThey\u2019ll be sure to follow\nus.\u201d\nThey struggled on. It was difficult now to pick their way without\nstumbling into ruts and slipping over rocks. They had left the meadow\nbehind. On every hand, boulders, stones, tall jagged cliffs surrounded\nthem. Their brisk walk had changed to a mere snail\u2019s pace.\n\u201cWe no get on very fast,\u201d complained Toma at the end of another half\nhour. \u201cI think mebbe we made mistake come this way. Take all night to go\none, two miles.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s turn more to the left,\u201d suggested Dick. \u201cThat may lead us out of\nhere.\u201d\nToma\u2019s keen sense of hearing was responsible for their next full stop a\nfew minutes later. Groping out with his two arms he caught Dick by the\nsleeve and Sandy by the back of his coat. Frantically, he pulled them\nback.\n\u201cI think I hear someone.\u201d His whispered warning was scarcely audible.\n\u201cDon\u2019t move unless want to die. Somebody come.\u201d\nA small stone rattled down the sharp incline immediately ahead of them.\nA guttural voice broke across the stillness.\n\u201cIndians!\u201d breathed Sandy. \u201cQuick!\u201d\nWith alacrity, the three quaking refugees pivoted about. For a few paces\nthey hurried forward. Another stone rattled down almost at their feet.\nIn dismay, they came to a sudden halt.\n\u201cTrapped!\u201d gurgled Dick.\nHis legs were growing limp under him. Fearfully, his eyes endeavored to\npierce the surrounding darkness. Was it illusion, or did he actually see\nsomething?\nVague shapes took human form. Dick had barely time to reach out and draw\nhis two companions closer to him, to squeeze Sandy\u2019s hand, and brace\nhimself for the final shock\u2014when the blow fell. One long, piercing,\nfiendish scream cut the silence. A wild scramble, hideous faces leering\nout of the dark, the sensation of being pummelled, struck, thrown back;\nthe faint memory of a strangled sob\u2014then complete oblivion!\nWhen he woke to consciousness, Dick was being bounced and jerked about\nin a most unusual and disconcerting way. He tried to raise his arms\nabove his head, but the effort proved futile. His wrists were bound.\nAcross his chest and around his legs he could feel the pressure of\ntightly drawn rope. By turning his head slightly and squinting down\nalong the curved surface of the object under him\u2014to which he had been\ntied\u2014he discovered the cause of his trouble.\nHe was strapped to a horse. The horse was slipping and sliding over\ntreacherous underfooting, and was one in a long string of similar pack\nanimals. The pack-train was advancing through the uncertain light of\nearly morning, moving very slowly to the accompaniment of hoarse,\nguttural shouts.\nIn a sudden flash, the memory of the events of the preceding night came\nback. Up to a certain point he retained a vivid, clear-cut impression of\neverything that had passed\u2014the Indian attack at Henderson\u2019s encampment,\nthe flight across the plateau and finally the harrowing experience among\nthe rocks. What had happened afterwards he did not know. Had Sandy and\nToma been killed? Why had the Indians taken him prisoner? Where were\nthey going now, and what did they purpose to do with him, when they got\nthere?\nBut whatever fate lay in store for him\u2014it mattered little. Just then\nDick was not particularly concerned with worry over himself. His mental\nimages had taken a gruesome and awful shape. Before his eyes he could\nsee the bruised and lifeless bodies of his two chums\u2014Sandy and Toma. A\nburning sob escaped him. He turned his head again, gazing up in the\ngray, shadowy vault of the sky.\nWith the coming of the morning light Dick saw that the country around no\nlonger possessed the aspect of grim, forbidding desolation. The plateau\nhad been left far behind. They were now winding their way over a\nbeautiful rolling woodland, whose varied scenic effects were pleasing to\nthe eye. At one place the ponies forded a shallow creek and a little\nfarther on skirted the shore of a lovely lake. This lake was narrow and\nlong, sparkling like an emerald in the slanting rays of the morning sun.\nAnd then Dick perceived, with a sigh of relief, the Indian village.\nScores of brown tepees nestled among the trees on the north side of the\nlake. Blue pinions of smoke floated lazily through the still air above\nthe pines.\nDick could scarcely believe that the howling demons of the night before\ncould in any way be associated with this pastoral scene. A drowsy peace\nlay over the village. Men and women sauntered here and there. Children\nplayed in the white belt of sand that sloped gently away toward the\nlake.\nThe pack-train turned quickly to the right and threaded its way along a\nnarrow path through the trees and a few minutes later drew up in a\ncleared space at one end of the village. Their approach had been\nheralded by an ear-splitting yowling of dogs and the noisy clamor of a\nsmall regiment of half-naked children. During the general excitement\nfollowing their arrival, Dick began to believe that his own existence\nhad been entirely overlooked. Did they intend to leave him strapped to\nthe pony all day? Was it some new brand of torture devised for his\nparticular case?\nHe was still brooding, when three particularly ferocious-looking\nwarriors drew away from the noisy hubbub and approached. Without a\nmoment\u2019s hesitation, they proceeded to untie the moose-hide thongs and\ndrag him down from his perch. In an incredibly short time, he was lying\nin the grass at their feet, the cynosure of hundreds of curious eyes.\nDick sat up and rubbed his wrists and ankles. He wriggled his toes. He\nmade an unsuccessful effort to rise. His legs were as numb and useless\nas those of a paralytic.\nTwo of the Indians who had released him helped him to his feet and, thus\nsupported, he was taken through the gaping crowd to a tepee nearby. Here\nhe was given food and water, one of the Indians remaining behind to\nguard him.\n\u201cI suppose they\u2019ll keep me confined here for the rest of the day,\u201d\nthought Dick. \u201cThey\u2019re probably holding a council of war right now to\ndecide what\u2019s to be done with me.\u201d\nAs the hours passed, Dick\u2019s guard sat stoically watching him. There was\nno expression in the calm, deeply-lined face. Except for an occasional\nflutter of his eye-lids, one might have thought that the silent,\ntranquil figure had been carved out of stone.\nWhen the numbness had left his legs, Dick rose to his feet, and, as the\ninactivity was unendurable, he began pacing back and forth across the\nnarrow, confining space. The exercise succeeded in restoring his\nsluggish circulation. He felt so much better that he wished he might be\npermitted to go out and walk along the shore of the lake. The flap of\nthe tepee had been pulled back, revealing an inviting prospect of cool\nblue water and green trees.\nFrom time to time, visitors came to glance in at the prisoner.\nOccasionally these were women and children, but more often dark-visaged\nwarriors, clad in moose-hide jackets and trousers that had been\nbeautifully embroidered in some kind of brightly-dyed fiber thread. Dick\nbecame greatly absorbed in noting the various designs. There were totem\npoles, bears, caribou, and animals of all descriptions. One Indian had a\npicture of the sun emblazoned across his wide chest.\nHe was occupied on one occasion in admiring a particularly interesting\nsample of this native handiwork when he was startled by an explosive\ngrunt. When he looked up quickly, it was to meet the gaze of a young\nIndian, whom he had seen somewhere before. He was probably one of the\nmen who had conducted the pack-train, Dick thought. Then, suddenly, he\nremembered. An involuntary cry of recognition escaped from his lips. It\nwas the son of the chief\u2014the victim of Baptiste\u2019s brutal attack.\nDick\u2019s heart was beating joyfully as he sprang forward to grasp the\noutstretched hand.\nThe young Indian\u2019s first act was to dismiss the guard and wave aside the\ninquisitive group that had gathered outside the tepee. Then he turned\ntowards Dick, jabbering excitedly, his face wreathed with smiles. He\npatted the prisoner on the back and laughed uproariously.\nHis manner indicated plainly his surprise and joy at the unexpected\nmeeting.\n\u201cThis is a huge joke,\u201d he seemed to be trying to say. \u201cPlease don\u2019t\nworry any more\u2014O fair-skinned stranger. I am the chief\u2019s son. I have\nunlimited authority. No one shall harm you.\u201d\nHe went through an amusing pantomime for a few moments, then clutched\nDick by the arm and drew him quickly outside, making a sign for him to\nfollow. He led the way to a large tepee, kicked aside the flap and\nmotioned Dick to enter.\nThe chief, sitting cross-legged just opposite the entrance, was startled\ninto sudden wakefulness by the unexpected interruption. He had, it was\nquite apparent, been indulging in an early morning nap. His manner was\nnot especially cordial, Dick thought, yet this impression vanished a\nmoment later when, at the conclusion of his son\u2019s brief explanation, he\nrose with great dignity, crossed over and placed a reassuring hand on\nDick\u2019s head.\nThis ceremony over, the young Indian smiled, took his charge in tow\nagain and they were off\u2014this time to the far end of the village. Tepee\nafter tepee they visited, going through the same monotonous performance.\nThen Dick received a shock. The last tepee they had entered did not\ncontain the usual swarthy, dignified inmate. The atmosphere was wholly\ndifferent here. Dick drew back with a startled cry, while a feeling of\nrevulsion swept over him. Baptiste La Lond, a shivering white-faced\nwreck, sat with his back propped against a small pile of firewood and,\nclose by, snoring as contentedly as if nothing had ever happened,\nsprawled the huge bulk of Bear Henderson.\n\u201cAh, monsieur,\u201d whimpered the abject, cowering wretch, \u201cso you too haf\nsuffered ze terrible misfortune. Veree soon we die. Zees barbarians haf\nno heart. Zey thirst for our veree blood. O monsieur, I am stricken. I\nfeel ze so terrible, terrible position.\u201d\n\u201cYou look it!\u201d Dick growled at him.\nDick felt that he should have been sorry for the unhappy Frenchman, but\nfor various reasons he could not. Sympathy would have been wasted upon\nhim. To a certain extent both Henderson and this cringing outlaw\ndeserved the fate that most assuredly awaited them.\nThe chief\u2019s son nudged his arm and they had turned away, when Baptiste\nagain broke forth:\n\u201cWhere ees ze rope?\u201d\n\u201cWhat rope?\u201d\n\u201cWhy are you not bound, monsieur?\u201d\n\u201cThey took the rope off,\u201d answered Dick noncommittally.\n\u201cAn\u2019 your two friends\u2014are zey too without ze rope?\u201d\n\u201cI haven\u2019t seen either one of them since the attack. I think they are\ndead,\u201d Dick choked.\n\u201cEt ees not so, monsieur. With my own eyes I see them both. Zey come\nalong on ze same pack-train. Ze leetle fellow cry most ze way like beeg\nbaby. Somewhere, I tell you, zey are here.\u201d\nWith that startling information ringing in his ears, Dick was led\noutside. The young Indian scowlingly shook his head and pointed back at\nthe tepee which sheltered the outlaws. Still scowling, he plucked two\nbroad leaves from a weed growing at his feet, squatted on his haunches,\nplaced the two leaves on the ground in front of him and, with a cry of\nrage, drove his long-bladed hunting knife through each in turn.\nIt was not difficult to comprehend that sort of sign language, and Dick\nsignified that he understood. Well he knew that it was a mock\nmurder\u2014with Henderson and La Lond as the victims.\nWatching his rescuer, suddenly Dick had an inspiration. Might it not be\npossible to learn the whereabouts of Sandy and Toma through the medium\nof this sign language. If Baptiste\u2019s statement had been correct, his two\nchums were imprisoned somewhere in the village. If only he could make\nthe young Indian understand.\nWith that purpose in view, Dick selected two smaller leaves growing on\nthe same weed. Speaking sharply to his new friend in order to make sure\nthat he had gained his strict attention, he stroked the leaves against\nhis face, coddled them in his hands, brushed them against his lips, and\nin other ways attempted to show his love for them. That the leaves\nrepresented two persons, the Indian knew, of course; but Dick\u2019s efforts\napparently had overshot their mark. He had hit the wrong target The\nchief\u2019s son evidently believed, judging from the sudden savage scowl on\nhis face, that Dick was attempting to make known his friendship for the\ntwo outlaws.\nDick pointed to the outlaw\u2019s tent and then at the two leaves he still\nheld in the palm of his hand and shook his head vigorously. The scowl\ndisappeared. With a small twig, he drew in the sand a crude likeness of\ntwo tepees. Within one of the tepees he placed the remnants of the\nleaves which had been mutilated by the Indian\u2019s knife and in the other\nthe two leaves he had himself selected, first being, very careful to\nwind long blades of grass around each of them. The blades of grass, he\nhoped, would carry to the Indian\u2019s mind the suggestion he wished to\nconvey\u2014rope wound around the ankles and wrists of his chums.\nThere followed a few more explanatory gestures\u2014and Dick gazed eagerly\nacross to his benefactor. Had the young Indian grasped the message? The\nminutes seemed interminable as the two squatted there in the sand.\nTo Dick\u2019s great disappointment, the chief\u2019s son shook his head as if in\ndoubt. Evidently he knew nothing of Sandy and Toma. However, he rose\nquickly to his feet and with a grunt to his eager companion hurried away\nthrough the trees, returning a few minutes afterward accompanied by\nthree men. As he approached Dick he smiled and gesticulated excitedly.\n\u201cCome!\u201d said one of the Indians.\nDick started in surprise.\n\u201cYou speak English!\u201d he shouted joyfully.\n\u201cCome!\u201d solemnly repeated the Indian.\nMotioning to Dick, the four struck off sharply to the right. They passed\na few tepees, the last at that end of the village, and plunged straight\non through a thicket of saskatoon, very much to Dick\u2019s bewilderment. At\nthe opposite side of the thicket a path, evidently used as a pack-trail,\nthreaded its way through a dense growth of underbrush. Where were they\ntaking him? A few hundred yards farther on, Dick stopped short, resolved\nnot to take another step until he had satisfied himself that the party\nwas not leading him astray.\n\u201cWhere are we going?\u201d he demanded of the Indian who had spoken the one\nword of English.\nThere ensued an interval of silence, in which the four Indians stared at\nDick in mild disapproval. Then a wild chattering broke forth. They\nsurrounded their dazed and discomfited protege, gesticulating almost\nsavagely. Before their well-intended onslaught Dick shrank back in\ndismay.\nPerceiving the uselessness of such tactics, the chief\u2019s son approached\nthe now thoroughly alarmed young man, smiling affably. He patted Dick\u2019s\narm reassuringly and pointed to the trail ahead.\n\u201cCome!\u201d he said in a soothing voice, imitating the Indian who spoke\nEnglish so fluently.\n\u201cGood! You come!\u201d cried the fluent one, his face distorted in what\nprobably was intended for a smile.\n\u201cAll right,\u201d grinned Dick. \u201cI come.\u201d\nIn high spirits they set out again. In less than twenty minutes they\ncame upon a wide natural clearing, dotted here and there with the tepees\nof another Indian encampment. A few minutes later, Dick\u2019s heart pounding\nin his throat, they entered the narrow opening of one of the tepees.\n\u201cDick!\u201d immediately shrieked a voice. \u201cYou! You! _You!_\u2014\u2014\u201d\nWith a cry that sounded like the screech of a calliope, Dick bounded\nforward and caught his chum in his arms.\n\u201cSandy!\u201d he almost blubbered. \u201cToma!\u2014Everything\u2019s all right! Gee!\u2014I\u2019ve\nfound you\u2014Don\u2019t worry\u2014Gosh! I\u2019ve been nearly crazy, thinking,\nthinking\u2014\u2014\u201d\nTears were welling in Sandy\u2019s eyes.\n\u201cDid you drop from the clouds?\u201d he inquired brokenly. \u201cSay, Dick, we\u2019ve\nbeen through hell.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry any more,\u201d Dick comforted him. \u201cWe\u2019re all right now. These\nIndians have come to release you. Just think of it, Sandy\u2014we\u2019re free.\nFree! Do you hear me, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I hear you. But why\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cThe chief\u2019s son\u2014\u2014 We owe our lives to him.\u201d\n\u201cWhy chief\u2019s son do that?\u201d Toma demanded. \u201cMebbe they make you like\nfool.\u201d\nDick turned quickly and grasped the guides drooping shoulder in a\nfriendly grip.\n\u201cListen, Toma. Look at that young Indian standing over there,\u201d he\npointed as he spoke. \u201cEver see him before?\u201d\nToma blinked a number of times, then suddenly started.\n\u201cSure!\u201d he broke forth excitedly. \u201cI know him. Young Indian fellow\nBaptiste strike \u2019em hard with revolver that day over at mine.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m beginning to see light,\u201d Sandy cut in quickly. \u201cWe owe our lives to\nyou, Dick. Because you knocked Baptiste down that day, after he\u2019d struck\nthe chief\u2019s son, he\u2014\u2014 he\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cIs showing his gratitude,\u201d Dick completed the sentence.\nThen the three boys looked up expectantly. With a slow, measured tread,\nthe subject of their discourse advanced with great solemnity and,\nbending over each of the prisoners in turn, cut the moose-hide thongs\nthat bound them.\n\u201cHurrah!\u201d shouted Sandy. Then facing about, turning his head slowly, he\nlooked up at Dick. \u201cI was never happier\u2014never quite so happy as I am\nright now,\u201d he declared fervently.\nThere was much to think about, much to tell during the next few hours.\nOver and over again, Sandy related the story of his capture, lingering\nover certain details which lent themselves to dramatic exploitation.\n\u201cI was certain that you were dead,\u201d he told Dick for the hundredth time.\n\u201cI saw them carry your body away and I could have sworn that there\nwasn\u2019t a breath of life in it. If ever there was a corpse that looked\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cForget about it,\u201d Dick hastily interrupted. \u201cI\u2019m pretty much alive\nnow\u2014and that\u2019s all that matters. When you come to think of it, we\u2019ve\nbeen more than fortunate. How we\u2019ve managed to get out of this scrape\nwithout suffering seriously is a mystery to me. We\u2019ve lost a little\nweight, a little sleep, a little skin and cuticle here and there, but\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cAnd we\u2019ve lost the mine,\u201d Sandy interrupted him.\n\u201cTo whom?\u201d Dick demanded.\n\u201cTo Henderson or the Indians\u2014I\u2019m not sure which.\u201d\n\u201cDo you mean to tell me that you don\u2019t know where Henderson is?\u201d\n\u201cWhy should I? I haven\u2019t seen him, have I?\u201d\nDick reached over and laughingly shook his friend.\n\u201cWake up, Sandy. Of course, you have. Baptiste told me that you and\nToma, Henderson and he himself all came out here on the same pack-train.\nHe said that you cried all the time like a big baby.\u201d\nSandy sprang to his feet, his face crimson with rage.\n\u201cHe\u2019s a liar! Maybe they came out with us all right, but if he says that\nhe\u2019s\u2014he\u2019s mistaken. I didn\u2019t! I swear it, Dick. Toma will vouch for me.\nI was a bit hysterical, of course and\u2014and badly frightened. I might have\nmoaned once or twice. You know how it is. But that\u2019s all\u2014positively!\u201d\n\u201cWhere Henderson an\u2019 Baptiste now?\u201d Toma asked, smiling furtively.\n\u201cOver at the other village. They\u2019re both trussed up, and there\u2019s a\nsentry guarding them. I\u2019d hate to be in their shoes.\u201d\n\u201cServes \u2019em right,\u201d growled Sandy.\n\u201cSo I don\u2019t see why we can\u2019t get complete and undisputed possession of\nthe mine. We\u2019ve won out. Sandy. Just think of it\u2014not a single obstacle\nin the road.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you think the Indians won\u2019t want it\u2014won\u2019t molest us if we go back\nthere?\u201d\n\u201cExactly.\u201d\nDick gazed dreamily through the tepee opening. The late afternoon\nsunlight fell radiantly across the earth. Through the trees at the far\nside of the meadow he caught sight of the rippling, blue waters of the\nlake.\n\u201cDo you know,\u201d he spoke earnestly, \u201cthere\u2019s a certain thing I\u2019d like to\ndo, if you fellows are willing.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d\n\u201cShow our appreciation and gratitude to the Indians in some definite\nway,\u201d responded Dick. \u201cI guess we all realize the extent of our\nindebtedness. We owe them everything\u2014our lives, the mine, the right to\ngo and come unmolested. We\u2019ve gained their friendship and their respect;\nwe have them on our side to help us. I\u2019m confident that they\u2019ll prove to\nbe as loyal friends as anyone could expect.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d rather have them our friends than our enemies,\u201d shivered Sandy.\n\u201cSo would I. And I\u2019m going to make a proposal. Let\u2019s divide our\nownership in the mine with them, all of us sharing equally in the\nprofits.\u201d\n\u201cBut they don\u2019t care for money,\u201d protested Sandy. \u201cGold! What does it\nmean to them? Nothing! It would be a whole lot more sensible to stake\nthem to a winter\u2019s grub-stake. I think they\u2019d appreciate it more.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what I\u2019m coming to,\u201d declared Dick. \u201cMy proposal is to\ndivide the property in this way: We\u2019ll own a half interest, the Indians\nthe other half. It will be necessary to appoint a guardian for the\nIndians. This guardian will look after their interest and\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cSpend their money!\u201d laughed Sandy.\n\u201cSure. Buy them the things they really need and can enjoy\u2014food, guns,\nknives, traps, clothing. As long as the mine continues to produce,\nthey\u2019ll never, never want for any of these things.\u201d\n\u201cIt sounds all right. It would work out all right, too, if only we could\nfind an honest, absolutely trustworthy guardian.\u201d\n\u201cWhat about the Royal North West Mounted,\u201d suggested Dick.\n\u201cBy George! You have it. They\u2019ll be the guardians!\u201d Sandy rose in his\nenthusiasm and smote Toma a resounding whack. \u201cWhat do you think of it,\nold sober-face? We haven\u2019t heard from you yet.\u201d\n\u201cI think \u2019em mighty fine idea,\u201d their guide responded quickly.\nThe chief\u2019s son appeared at this juncture and smiled at them through the\nopening.\n\u201cCome,\u201d he requested gutturally.\n\u201cI think he wants us to accompany him back to his own village,\u201d said\nDick, when they had hurried outside.\nThis proved to be the case. Through the brilliant, warm sunshine of late\nafternoon they followed the lithe young native along the path that led\nback to the first and larger village. Arriving there, the boys were\nescorted directly to the chief\u2019s tepee, where a large crowd had\ngathered. The chief himself, now fully arrayed in resplendant regal\ngarb, awaited their coming. As the small party drew up before him, he\nadvanced solemnly, raised one arm in a commanding gesture and everyone\nsat down, including the chief\u2019s son and the three boys.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the old beggar going to do now?\u201d Sandy whispered.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Dick scratched his head in perplexity. \u201cIt\u2019s probably a\nmeeting of some sort.\u201d\nToma leaned over and nudged Dick in the ribs.\n\u201cIndians make ready for big feast. Look!\u201d\nA corpulent, kindly-looking squaw, closely followed by four Indian\ngirls, appeared suddenly in their midst, carrying huge trays or\nplatters, which were heaped high with what looked like roasted venison.\nThe first tray was placed on the ground in front of the chief, the next\nbefore the boys, while the remaining three were deposited at different\npoints of vantage amongst the assembly. The hostess with her four comely\nhelpers disappeared, only to return a moment later, bearing other trays\npiled with food.\nAltogether it was a novel experience. It was the first time that the\nboys had ever attended a regal function of this kind, and they\nthoroughly enjoyed it. At the conclusion of the feast, the crowd fell\nback, forming itself in a wide circle. Within the unoccupied center\nspace strode three grotesquely-attired braves, carrying a short section\nof a hollow log, over one end of which moose-hide had been tightly\nstretched.\nThe booming notes of the crude, home-made drum trembled forth its\ninvitation to the dance. A weird, unearthly yowling was struck up.\nWarrior after warrior leaped into the cleared space and began spinning\nabout, to the accompaniment of a yip-yip-yihing that reminded Dick of\nthe howling of wolves.\nThrough the long evening and late into the night the dance continued,\ngrowing more hideous and noisy with each passing hour. So violently did\na number of the participants disport themselves that they dropped to the\nground in utter exhaustion, but leaping up again as soon as they had\nrecovered sufficiently to make such an effort possible.\nDick and Sandy had grown weary of watching long before the dance broke\nup, yet as guests of honor they hesitated about making known their wish\nto retire for the night.\n\u201cI\u2019m so sleepy I can\u2019t hold my head up much longer,\u201d Sandy declared.\n\u201cBut just look at Toma\u2014he\u2019s enjoying every minute of it. I honestly\nbelieve the old boy is anxious to get out there himself.\u201d\nHearing the remark, the guide turned a flushed, excited face toward\nSandy and grinned good-naturedly.\n\u201cYou bet! I like go there myself. Mebbe sometime I show you how good I\nmake \u2019em like that dance.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll take your word for it,\u201d answered Sandy.\nSquaws and children kept adding fresh fuel to the three huge campfires\nthat had been kindled within the dancing space. In their bright glare\nthere came presently a group of Indians, attired in complete war\nregalia, and closely following them, still another group, half-carrying,\nhalf-dragging two pitiable, quaking forms.\nDick\u2019s heart seemed to stand still when he had recognized the identity\nof the two victims\u2014no other than Henderson and Baptiste La Lond! With a\nshaking finger, he pointed them out to Sandy and Toma.\n\u201cGreat Caesar! I hope the Indians are not going to torture them right\nhere in front of our eyes,\u201d Sandy exclaimed.\nThe approach of the group of warriors had been the signal for the dance\nto cease, although the drum still kept up a low, muffled roll. Dick\nturned to Toma.\n\u201cWhat do you think they\u2019re about to do, Toma?\u201d he quavered.\n\u201cMe not sure yet.\u201d\n\u201cBut will they kill them?\u201d\nThe guide shook his head.\n\u201cMebbe tomorrow morning\u2014but not tonight. Tonight I think chief an\u2019 brave\nfighting men hold big meeting to decide what they do. Pretty sure,\nBaptiste, Henderson no get killed tonight.\u201d\n\u201cYes, it\u2019s a meeting,\u201d cried Sandy. \u201cSee\u2014they\u2019re all sitting down. Look,\nDick, the chief is rising to his feet. Toma\u2014run over and find out what\nthey\u2019re going to do.\u201d\nWhen Toma returned, nearly an hour later, the meeting had ended and the\ntwo prisoners were being dragged back to their former prison.\n\u201cI no find out very much,\u201d he greeted them. \u201cIndians make different talk\nfrom my people. I hear only few words I understand. I find out just\nenough know that they take \u2019em Baptiste, Henderson long way off\ntomorrow.\u201d\n\u201cWhat did the chief do when he walked over and stood in front of them?\u201d\nasked Sandy. \u201cFrom here it looked as if he had stooped over to cut or\nuntie their ropes.\u201d\n\u201cI not understand that part,\u201d replied Toma. \u201cChief stoop down all right\nbut he no untie. He give Baptiste, Henderson each one little canoe small\nlike my hand. Then he walk away again an\u2019 pretty soon Indians take them\nbad fellow back to tepee.\u201d\n\u201cThe canoes must signify something,\u201d mused Dick. \u201cThey\u2019re symbols of\nsome kind. It would be interesting to know.\u201d\nThat night the boys slept in a large tepee that had been pitched near\nthe shore of the lake. It was late when they awoke. Dick scrambled out\nof his rabbit-robe and hurried outside. A loud clamor, coming from the\ncenter of the village, increased in volume as he stood there shading his\neyes with his hand.\nToma and Sandy came bustling out a short time later and the three boys\nstood watching the dense throng, milling about the space where the feast\nand dance had taken place on the previous night.\n\u201cWonder what\u2019s up?\u201d said Sandy. \u201cThey\u2019re making more noise than a house\nfull of huskies. I\u2019ll bet everybody forgot to go to bed last night.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps the village executioner is getting ready to sharpen his\nhatchet,\u201d guessed Dick.\n\u201cUgh!\u201d shivered Sandy. \u201cI\u2019d almost forgotten about that. It\u2019s one event\nthat I don\u2019t intend to witness. You fellows can go if you like\u2014but\nplease count me out. My father went to a \u2018hanging\u2019 once in England, and\nhe used to wake up nights for months afterward and would lay there\nthinking about it.\u201d\nThe approach of the chief\u2019s son cut short any further comment on the\nimpending tragedy. The young Indian greeted them cordially, pointed to\nthe glistening waters of the lake, and proceeded to disrobe. With a\nwhoop of delight, Sandy commenced to follow his example.\n\u201cCome on, Toma!\u201d Dick cried. \u201cWe\u2019ll join them. I haven\u2019t had a decent\nbath for\u2014let\u2019s see\u2014how long is it?\u201d\n\u201cFor years!\u201d jibed Sandy. \u201cI reckon you\u2019re about the dirtiest prospector\nthat ever struck these parts.\u201d Dick repaid Sandy for the insult by\nbouncing a small pebble off his defamer\u2019s head. A moment later they were\nengaged in a friendly scuffle, when a warning shout from Toma drew their\nattention.\n\u201cHenderson!\u201d\nLess than eighty yards behind them the outlaw, a heavy club in each\nhand, battled his way through the crowd. His towering form plunged this\nway and that in an effort to shake himself free of the two or three\nswarthy figures that still clung to him. Like a madman he fought forward\nfifteen or twenty yards, then went down suddenly before a concerted rush\nthat literally tramped him in the sand under the infuriated feet of the\nmob.\n\u201cHe was a fool to try it,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cHow in the dickens did he ever\nmanage to free himself of the rope in the first place? Whew! He\u2019s a\nregular human tornado!\u201d\n\u201cThey were getting ready to take the prisoners away somewhere, by the\nlooks of it. Probably he was untied for a moment, and he saw his\nchance,\u201d Dick replied.\n\u201cHe\u2019ll never have another one,\u201d Sandy prophesied. \u201cI\u2019ll bet they\u2019ll\nwatch him so closely from now on, they\u2019ll all need glasses for their\nworn-out eyes. I hope he didn\u2019t kill any of them.\u201d\nA splash in the water near at hand recalled their forgotten swim, and\nthe two boys looked up just as the chief\u2019s son came blowing to the\nsurface a few feet from shore.\n\u201cHe\u2019s a cool one,\u201d admired Dick. \u201cHe didn\u2019t pay any more attention to\nthe struggle back there just now than he would to a dog fight.\u201d\nSandy kicked off his moccasins and socks and paused to wriggle his toes\nin the sand.\n\u201cI\u2019m very anxious to know what they intend to do with Baptiste and\nHenderson. Toma, don\u2019t you suppose you could find out. You said last\nnight that you could understand a few words of what they said at the\nmeeting. Why don\u2019t you try to question the chief\u2019s son?\u201d\n\u201cBye-\u2019n\u2019-bye I speak to him,\u201d promised Toma. \u201cBut why you worry so much\n\u2019bout them?\u201d\nA belated breakfast followed the swim. Greatly refreshed, both in mind\nand body, Dick and Sandy repaired to the shade of an ancient spruce to\ndiscuss the plans for the day. Toma, who had struck up a close\nfriendship with the young Indian, had betaken himself to the village in\nan effort to gather the information that Sandy\u2019s morbid curiosity seemed\nto require.\n\u201cWe ought to go back to the mine as soon as possible,\u201d said Dick. \u201cI\u2019m\nanxious to see how things are, and especially to find out about the\nmoose-hide sacks. I doubt very much whether they\u2019re still stored in the\nmain shaft. The chances are that Henderson and his men attempted to take\nthem with them when they were driven from the mine.\u201d\n\u201cI hope we\u2019ll be able to find them,\u201d Sandy responded. \u201cIf they\u2019re not\nburied under the charred remains of the cabin that must now be littering\nthe main shaft, we may have to search the entire north side of the\nplateau.\u201d\n\u201cAnother reason why we ought to hasten back to the mine,\u201d Dick pointed\nout, \u201cis because your Uncle Walter and the mounted police are scheduled\nto arrive there in the next day or two.\u201d\n\u201cBut what makes you think that?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cHenderson himself said so. One of his Indian runners came in with the\nnews the night before we were captured by the outlaws. That was the\nreason why Henderson was in such a hurry to strip the mine, as he called\nit, and make his \u2018get-away\u2019.\u201d\nSandy nodded and lapsed into a short silence.\n\u201cYou\u2019re right, Dick. We ought to hurry back,\u201d he finally broke forth.\n\u201cIf Uncle Walter and Corporal Richardson arrive at the mine during our\nabsence, they\u2019ll be terribly alarmed. Everything there is in an awful\nmess. The cabin\u2019s burned. Here and there, they\u2019ll come across signs of\nthe Indian attack. They may possibly find a few dead bodies of the\noutlaws. You can guess what they\u2019ll think has become of us.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d shuddered Dick, \u201cI know what they\u2019ll think. It wouldn\u2019t occur to\nthem that we\u2019d been taken by the Indians.\u201d\n\u201cWhy not return today?\u201d suggested Sandy.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll try to, Sandy. I only wish that there was some way that we could\ntalk to the chief\u2019s son and explain matters to him. If we hurry away he\nmay think that we don\u2019t appreciate his kindness.\u201d\nSandy gazed thoughtfully at his chum for a few moments, then rose\ndecisively to his feet.\n\u201cWell, it can\u2019t be helped. Let\u2019s go over to the village and see if we\ncan find Toma. He\u2019s right in his element now. It would tickle him pink\nif we would decide to remain here for the rest of the summer.\u201d\nDick laughed as he swung into step beside his friend.\n\u201cYou\u2019re wrong there. Toma may enjoy a day or two of this, but the\nnovelty would soon wear off. He\u2019s on the job day and night. Besides,\nhe\u2019s troubled with a secret ambition.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d\n\u201cHe hopes some day to become a mounted police scout like Malemute Slade.\nIt\u2019s about all he lives for. He\u2019ll be the proudest mortal in seven\nkingdoms and fourteen republics if they ever decide to give him a\nchance.\u201d\n\u201cAnd he\u2019d make good, too,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cI know it. In some respects he\u2019s almost as clever as Malemute Slade\nright now. Corporal Richardson and Inspector Cameron are keeping an eye\non him. It\u2019s hard to get good scouts for the mounted.\u201d\nThe subject of this short but complimentary appraisement came suddenly\nin view, accompanied by the chief\u2019s son. Both were smiling in great good\nhumor as they approached.\n\u201cI make \u2019em pretty good talk,\u201d Toma proudly announced. \u201cI find out where\nIndian take Baptiste an\u2019 Henderson. Where you think?\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t imagine,\u201d replied Dick.\n\u201cThunder River.\u201d\n\u201cThunder River!\u201d exclaimed Sandy. \u201cWhat for?\u201d\n\u201cI suppose,\u201d said Dick, \u201cthey intend to drown them or else throw them\nover a cliff.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Toma, shaking his head, \u201cIndian do better thing than that.\nBig men an\u2019 chief decide about that last night. You remember \u2019bout\nlittle canoes chief gave to Baptiste and Henderson?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I remember you mentioned it.\u201d\n\u201cWhen he give \u2019em Baptiste, Henderson little canoes he mean by that a\ncertain thing. He mean they take voyage on river. He send \u2019em down\nriver.\u201d\n\u201cHow kind of the dear old chief,\u201d said Sandy sarcastically.\n\u201cNot so kind you think,\u201d retorted Toma. \u201cIndians take Baptiste,\nHenderson to bad place in river. Put each one in different canoe, then\npush canoe away from shore. No paddle! Nothing! God swim along under the\nwater\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cWhat!\u201d shouted Dick and Sandy in unison. \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d\n\u201cGod swim along under the water,\u201d calmly repeated Toma, \u201can\u2019 if he see\nman in canoe very bad he tip it over. Mebbe man not very bad, so he no\ntip.\u201d\n\u201cWhat makes you think that God swims in the water?\u201d Dick inquired,\nsuppressing a smile.\n\u201cIndians see him many times\u2014they tell me that.\u201d\n\u201cA river manitou,\u201d said Sandy, winking slyly at Dick. \u201cI\u2019ve heard of him\nbefore. Do you suppose he\u2019ll permit Henderson and Baptiste to pass\nsafely through the rapids?\u201d\n\u201cNo can tell.\u201d Toma shook his head gravely. \u201cSometimes bad fellow from\ntribe get through, but not very often. This afternoon we find out about\nBaptiste, Henderson. You see for yourself. Indian get ready go Thunder\nRiver pretty soon. Chief\u2019s son he like it we go along.\u201d\n\u201cBut we ought to return to the mine, Toma. Factor MacClaren and the\nmounted police are almost due now, and we\u2019d hate to miss them.\u201d\nThe guide\u2019s face clouded with disappointment. From his expression and\nactions it was evident that he looked forward to the ordeal at the river\nwith considerable anticipation.\n\u201cChief\u2019s son feel bad you no go,\u201d he declared disconsolately.\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be helped,\u201d Sandy interjected. \u201cYou must explain to him\nsomehow. Tell him we\u2019d like to stay and would gladly go with him to the\nriver if we weren\u2019t expecting the arrival of friends at the mine.\u201d\nToma performed the unpleasant task with his usual willingness. He had\nsome difficulty, however. At the first attempt the chief\u2019s son stared\nblankly at the perspiring interpreter, unable to translate the confusing\njumble of words, signs and gestures the guide showered upon him. Toma\nhad nearly exhausted his supply of ideas before he succeeded in making\nhimself understood. Dawning comprehension showed itself in the quickly\nbrightening features, then suddenly a smile rewarded Toma for his\nefforts.\nWith a good-natured grunt he turned, motioning to the boys to follow,\nand led the way to a small clearing in the woods, where a herd of Indian\nponies, picketed in the long grass, raised their heads and snorted in\naffright.\nDick and Sandy paused in wonder.\n\u201cCan you beat that!\u201d gleefully shouted the latter. \u201cHe\u2019s going to lend\nus ponies, Dick. If that isn\u2019t the last word in kindness and generosity,\nI\u2019ll eat Toma for dinner.\u201d\n\u201cIf that is really his intention, we\u2019ll get back to the mine in a\nhurry,\u201d chuckled Dick.\n\u201cYou bet!\u201d grinned Toma. \u201cWe ride fast. What you say if Toma tell him\nthank you.\u201d\n\u201cYou can fall on his neck and kiss him if you like,\u201d said Sandy, jumping\nabout and clapping his hands in delight. \u201cBy George, he\u2019s a true sport\nif there ever was one. Just for this I\u2019m going to give him my jack-knife\nand pocket mirror.\u201d\nThe suggestion seemed a good one and the three boys turned out their\npockets and took inventory of the contents. Sandy handed over the mirror\nand knife with an elaborate bow; Dick parted with his pocket-compass\nwithout a single sigh of regret, while Toma\u2019s contribution consisted of\na much-prized mouth-organ, two steel fish-hooks and a string of glass\nbeads.\nThe young Indian was so overcome by this liberality that his hands shook\nas he examined each object in turn. The harmonica especially enthralled\nhim. He listened to Toma\u2019s expert piping on this, the most favored of\nall musical instruments among the Indians in the North, with eyes that\ngrew bright with pleasure, and broke forth at the conclusion of the\nshort concert with an awed expression of approval.\nLess than an hour later, loaded down with fresh meat and fish, a gift\nfrom the Indians, and with the shouts and plaudits of a large crowd that\nhad gathered to see them off, the young adventurers turned the heads of\ntheir ponies southward and cantered away. The chief\u2019s son accompanied\nthem for several miles before he waved his final farewell. As the horse\nand rider disappeared in a turn of the forest path, Dick heaved a sigh\nof regret.\n\u201cI hated to see him go,\u201d he confided to Sandy, \u201cI wonder if he\u2019ll ever\ncome over and visit us at the mine.\u201d\n\u201cI sincerely hope so.\u201d\n\u201cHe come all right,\u201d Toma assured them. \u201cHe tell me mebbe he ride over\ntomorrow to see how we get along.\u201d\nA few miles farther on the forest thinned out and presently they rode\nforth across an open prairie. To the south lay the plateau. Far to the\nwestward, a chain of purple-belted hills extended back to meet the\nrugged slope of Dominion Range. In this direction, above the horizon\u2019s\nbroken rim, they could discern plainly many snowy mountain peaks.\n\u201cIt take about three hours to get back to mine,\u201d guessed Toma.\nDick, gazing away in the direction of the plateau, nodded his head.\n\u201cYes, it shouldn\u2019t take much longer than that.\u201d\nHe paused, squinting in the bright morning sunlight.\n\u201cI wonder if my eyes are deceiving me,\u201d he suddenly broke forth. \u201cWhat\nare those dark spots a little west and south of here? Looks to me like a\nband of horsemen.\u201d\n\u201cUnless it\u2019s a whole tribe of Indians on the march\u2014it couldn\u2019t be that,\u201d\nSandy interposed, reining up his pony. \u201cIf I didn\u2019t know better, I\u2019d say\nit was a big herd of cattle.\u201d\n\u201cCaribou!\u201d trilled Toma, becoming suddenly tremendously excited, and\nalmost falling off his mount as he craned his neck in order to get a\nbetter view. \u201cPretty soon you see something mebbe you never forget. Only\none time before I watch \u2019em big caribou herd.\u201d\nDick and Sandy had often been told about but had never witnessed one of\nthe most interesting and marvelous sights to be seen in the far North\u2014a\nmigrating herd of caribou! Almost as numerous as the bison or American\nbuffalo that once roamed over the western plains of the United States,\ntwice a year\u2014south in the autumn, north in the spring\u2014these sleek,\nantlered beasts, that very much resemble the reindeer of northeastern\nEurope, formed themselves into vast herds and started forth on the\ninevitable trek to new grazing grounds.\nDick\u2019s breath caught with excitement as he followed their slow,\nunhurried course. On and on they came in a dense, black wave, pouring\nout over the prairie in one long, seemingly endless column. Their\nthundering hooves shook the earth. Had the boys possessed rifles and\nbeen less kind-hearted, they might easily have slaughtered hundreds of\nthe mild-eyed, forward-surging animals without leaving a single gap in\nthe line.\n\u201cIn all my life I\u2019ve never seen anything so wonderful!\u201d Sandy gasped.\n\u201cNeither have I,\u201d admired Dick. \u201cI can believe now the story that\nMalemute Slade told me one time. He and a mounted policeman, named\nCorporal Casserley, were proceeding north through the first heavy snow\nof early winter when they met a huge herd of caribou travelling south.\nFor three hours they stood shivering in the cold, waiting for the herd\nto go by. Finally, they were forced to build a campfire and erect a\nshelter. It was not until noon of the following day that the last of the\nherd passed and Slade and Casserley were permitted to proceed on their\njourney.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d hate to ride out in the path of the caribou,\u201d Sandy declared, as he\nturned his pony\u2019s head. \u201cIt might cause them to stampede.\u201d\n\u201cIt would be very apt to,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cPersonally, I haven\u2019t any\ndesire to be trampled under their hooves. In preference to being chopped\ninto mince-meat, I think I\u2019ll steer my course more to the east and avoid\nthem.\u201d\n\u201cI think like that too,\u201d smiled Toma. \u201cWhat you say we hurry along now\nan\u2019 get back to mine. Pretty soon we get hungry an\u2019 no like to stop an\u2019\nbuild campfire then. Much better we travel fast an\u2019 cook \u2019em big dinner\nsoon we get there.\u201d\n\u201cAnd I want to get there before Uncle Walter arrives,\u201d remembered Sandy.\n\u201cI don\u2019t think we\u2019ll find them at the mine,\u201d said Dick. \u201cThey\u2019ll be in\nexactly the same boat that we were. They won\u2019t know where the mine is.\nDuring the last hour or two I\u2019ve been turning things over in my mind,\nand I\u2019ve just about come to the conclusion that our best plan is to go\nright on past the plateau to Thunder River, where we made the crossing.\nI\u2019m sure we\u2019ll meet them sooner by doing that.\u201d\n\u201cOf course we will. Funny I never thought about it But that means, Dick,\nthat we have a longer ride ahead of us than we first expected. Even by\nforced travelling, we won\u2019t reach the river much before night.\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s true.\u201d\n\u201cAnd we\u2019ll have to stop to graze the ponies, not to mention preparing\nour own lunch.\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cThen, let\u2019s hurry!\u201d\nWith a last look at caribou, they dug their heels into their impatient\nmounts and sped southward, whooping like three cowboys.\nSandy sat with his chin in his hands, his brooding, disconsolate eyes\nfixed on the opposite shore of Thunder River.\n\u201cThey aren\u2019t coming tonight,\u201d he finally exploded. \u201cNot a sign of them.\nWe\u2019ve been sitting here for hours just wasting our time. I\u2019m beginning\nto believe that Henderson lied about that Indian messenger. If Uncle\nWalter and the mounted police were really coming, they ought to be here\nnow.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t be so impatient, Sandy,\u201d Dick laughed. \u201cIf you keep on worrying\nlike that, you\u2019ll be a nervous wreck by the time they do get here. Of\ncourse, they\u2019re coming. If not tonight\u2014tomorrow or the next day. I see\nno reason to doubt Henderson\u2019s statement.\u201d\n\u201cTomorrow or the next day!\u201d groaned the other. \u201cMighty cheering, aren\u2019t\nyou? If I actually thought they wouldn\u2019t arrive before then, I\u2019d cross\nthe river and go on to meet them.\u201d\n\u201cYou foolish fellow if you do that,\u201d stated Toma, throwing a handful of\npebbles into the swiftly-flowing stream. \u201cYou easy pass by each other by\nmistake an\u2019 not know thing about it. Bye-\u2019n\u2019-bye you find you hit trail\nfor Fort Good Faith an\u2019 factor an\u2019 mounted police same time hit trail\nclose to mine. How you like that?\u201d\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t like it,\u201d responded Sandy, \u201cand I haven\u2019t the least\nintention of pulling a crazy stunt like that. What I would do if I\ncrossed, would be to search for them along the river. You remember the\ntrouble we had in finding a place where the current wasn\u2019t too swift for\na raft. It is only natural to suppose that they may be having the same\ntrouble.\u201d\n\u201cTrue enough,\u201d agreed Dick. \u201cBut eventually they\u2019d be forced to come\ndown here. It\u2019s the only safe crossing.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not so sure about that.\u201d\n\u201cAnother thing, you can\u2019t cross over without a raft,\u201d Dick went on. \u201cIt\nwould be more difficult to build a raft on this side of the river than\non the other. The trees are all on the other side.\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s plenty of driftwood,\u201d Sandy pointed out.\n\u201cI think mebbe it good idea if we do build raft,\u201d Toma suddenly spoke\nup. \u201cIt save time for mounted police. First thing they have to do when\nthey come is make ready chop down trees. Mebbe pretty tired an\u2019 no like\ndo that. Factor MacClaren him be glad when he find raft all ready\u2014only\nwait for him to cross.\u201d\n\u201cYou said a mouthful!\u201d approved Sandy. \u201cWe can have one ready in two or\nthree hours. Then we\u2019ll slip over to the other side and wait until they\ncome.\u201d\nDick acquiesced willingly, not only because the suggestion seemed a good\none, but also because the work entailed would cause them to forget the\nslow, monotonous passing of time. Sandy became cheerful again almost\nimmediately. He and Toma hurried away to select the logs from the large\npiles of driftwood, while Dick sauntered over to the three ponies and\nreturned a moment later with an axe and a coil of rope.\nWhen twilight descended, their task was nearly completed. Toma and Dick\nwere tying the last log in place when a fervid, reverberating halloo\nsounded across the canyon. Dropping everything, the three boys darted to\ntheir feet.\n\u201cYih! Yip!\u201d screamed Sandy. \u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d\n\u201cMounted police!\u201d came the answering shout. \u201cIs that you, Sandy?\u201d\nSandy\u2019s hysterical reply took the form of a screech that might have been\nheard for miles. Dick\u2019s own contributing whoop was scarcely less\npowerful.\n\u201cComing over?\u201d Sandy\u2019s question stirred up another battery of echoes.\n\u201cNo raft! Everybody safe?\u201d\n\u201cYes, we\u2019re all here. Wait just a few minutes. Own raft almost finished.\nStand by, we\u2019ll soon be there.\u201d\nTwenty minutes later they had made the crossing in safety and were\njoyfully helped ashore by the three men, Corporal Richardson, Factor\nMacClaren and Malemute Slade. Vocal confusion ensued. Everybody talked\nat once. With a strangled cry, Sandy threw himself in the outspread arms\nof Walter MacClaren. Malemute Slade and Corporal Richardson took turns\nin pounding Dick and Toma on the back.\n\u201cThank God, we got here in time,\u201d Corporal Richardson declared\nfervently. \u201cWe hardly expected to find you alive.\u201d\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cWhy not!\u201d Corporal Richardson repeated Dick\u2019s question sharply. \u201cWhy\nnot! Because every member of Henderson\u2019s murderous gang followed you out\nhere. They\u2019re here\u2014right in this vicinity now. We\u2019ve been right on the\njump ever since we heard the news.\u201d\n\u201cWhat news?\u201d\n\u201cWhy\u2014the news that they had followed you.\u201d\n\u201cIf you ain\u2019t seen \u2019em, you\u2019re liable to before long,\u201d Malemute Slade\nhinted darkly. \u201cDid you fellers find the mine?\u201d\n\u201cYes, we found it,\u201d answered Dick.\n\u201cAny good?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s a peach!\u201d\n\u201cFunny Henderson didn\u2019t take it away from you.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, he did,\u201d shouted Sandy. \u201cHe took it away from us the very same day\nwe found it.\u201d\n\u201cWell, that sure is tough luck. Never mind,\u201d Malemute Slade patted\nSandy\u2019s arm comfortingly, \u201cmebbe we can get it back fer yuh. Mebbe we\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cBut we\u2019ve already got it back,\u201d Dick interrupted him.\n\u201cGot it back? What do yuh mean? See here, young feller\u2014you\u2019re not\nspoofin\u2019 me. I think not!\u201d\nBit by bit the story came out. Sandy, Dick and even Toma took turns in\nthe telling. Eagerly, the three men gathered around them and listened,\noften interrupting the narrator to ply him with questions. Often\nCorporal Richardson, unable to follow the broken thread of the story\u2019s\nsequence, threw up his hands in despair:\n\u201cHold on there, Dick! Not so fast! Wait a moment, Sandy, you forgot to\ntell us what happened before that. Toma, why don\u2019t you speak in Cree.\nWe\u2019ll understand you better. You\u2019re too excited to talk \u2019em English\ntonight.\u201d\nIt was so late when the tale was concluded, that by common consent the\nparty decided not to cross the river that night.\n\u201cIt will be perfectly safe to leave the ponies on the other side,\u201d said\nDick. \u201cThere\u2019s plenty of grass where we have them picketed. I don\u2019t\nbelieve anything will come to disturb them.\u201d\n\u201cWe have our own pack-horses on this side,\u201d laughed Factor MacClaren.\n\u201cWe left them in charge of three half-breeds up there on the level\nground above the canyon. I thought it would be better not to make the\ndescent with the horses until we had looked around a bit.\u201d\n\u201cDid you have much difficulty in following our trail?\u201d Dick enquired.\n\u201cNo, not very much. Malemute Slade is a good tracker and we found many\nof your campfires. Once we picked up an old pair of moccasins that we\nthought had been discarded by Sandy. They were small\u2014about the size he\nusually wears.\u201d\nThe camp was astir early on the following morning. When Dick and Sandy\ntumbled out of the blankets they had borrowed from Factor MacClaren, a\npan of bacon sizzled over the fire and the odor of strong black coffee\nblended with the smell of spruce and balsam. Malemute Slade and Corporal\nRichardson nodded a cheery greeting as the two young adventurers, still\nrubbing their eyes, stumbled down to the river for an icy-cold plunge.\nShivering for a moment in anticipation, Dick raised his arms above his\nhead, darted for a few paces over the smooth white sand and shot\nstraight out into the gurgling current. Sandy hit the water almost\nsimultaneously. As the two boys came blowing to the surface, Dick made a\nplayful swipe at his chum\u2019s head. Instinctively Sandy ducked.\n\u201cI\u2019ll race you down to that big rock, you big, overgrown puppy,\u201d he\ncalled out mockingly. \u201cI\u2019m in my natural element now. Try to catch me!\u201d\nThey plowed through the water. An expert swimmer, Sandy won the race by\na wide margin. He was sitting on the rock, feet dangling above the\nsurface of the stream, when Dick came puffing up. But instead of the\nlook of triumph on his face that Dick had expected, Sandy\u2019s countenance\nwas distorted painfully.\n\u201cWhy, Sandy\u2014what\u2019s the matter? Did you get cramps?\u201d\nThe other did not reply. He was staring at Dick now with eyes that were\nwide with horror. He slipped from the rock in a sort of panic and struck\nout for shore. Hastily, Dick followed him.\nWading out, Dick approached the trembling figure.\n\u201cYou\u2019re frightened,\u201d he declared. \u201cOr are you sick, Sandy? Was the water\ntoo cold for you?\u201d\n\u201cDick\u2014I saw it! A body floated past! A man!\u201d\n\u201cA what\u2014\u2014\u201d gasped Dick.\n\u201cI was crawling on the rock. I could see it plainly. I tried to call\nout.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s voice choked. He reached out and gripped Dick by the arm. His\nlips were blue from fright and cold.\n\u201c_It was Henderson!_\u201d he whispered.\nPerceiving that something was wrong, Malemute Slade and Corporal\nRichardson hurried over.\n\u201cThe boy\u2019s sick!\u201d exclaimed Slade. He turned his head: \u201cMacClaren, fetch\na blanket. Hurry!\u201d\nA moment later they were chafing his limbs, and had wrapped him up in\nheavy folds of the thick, woollen blanket.\n\u201cYou boys ought to know better than this,\u201d Corporal Richardson scolded\nthem. \u201cThunder River is a glacier-fed stream and its water is like ice.\nDon\u2019t go swimming in it again. No wonder Sandy got cramps.\u201d\n\u201cHe didn\u2019t,\u201d Dick protested. \u201cHe\u2019s frightened. He said that he saw the\nbody of a man floating past. He thinks it was Henderson.\u201d\n\u201cBosh!\u201d declared the policeman, pointing over at the river. \u201cThe current\nis full of driftwood. A water-logged stump a short distance away might\neasily be mistaken for the body of a man. What Sandy thought he saw and\nwhat he actually saw\u2014are two different things. Besides, Sandy is nervous\nand unstrung as a result of his experiences over at the mine.\u201d\n\u201cI did see it, I tell you!\u201d\n\u201cThere! There!\u201d soothed Factor MacClaren. \u201cYou\u2019ll be all right in a\nmoment. Please forget about it. We\u2019re having breakfast now, Sandy. Toma\nis pouring the coffee this very minute.\u201d\nWith the possible exception of Dick and Malemute Slade, no one believed\nthat Sandy had seen anything out of the ordinary, notwithstanding the\nyoung Scotch lad\u2019s angry protestations. In the hurry and bustle of the\nmorning, the incident was soon forgotten. Sandy himself soon recovered\nhis usual cheerfulness, assisting Dick and Toma in the work of rafting\nthe supplies of the police party to the opposite side of the river.\nThe trek over to the mine commenced early in the afternoon. On this\noccasion it was an imposing cavalcade that wound its way up through the\nrocks to the wide plain that stretched away to the westward. In advance,\nwent the three half-breed packers with the ponies; behind them, Corporal\nRichardson and Malemute Slade, while Factor MacClaren and the three\nboys, chatting animatedly, brought up the rear.\n\u201cWe feel a lot different than the last time we went over this route to\nthe plateau,\u201d Dick remarked. \u201cIt was raining and we slept part of the\nnight in that thicket you see just ahead.\u201d\n\u201cYou must have had a terrible experience,\u201d said the factor. \u201cI doubt\nvery much whether I could have endured the nervous tension had I been\nwith you. Looking at it from a selfish viewpoint, I can see now how very\nfortunate I was that that pesky inventory prevented me from coming\nalong. I might not have been as lucky as the three of you were.\u201d\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t good luck at all, Uncle Walter,\u201d grinned Sandy.\n\u201cWell, what was it?\u201d\n\u201cCourage and good management,\u201d declared Sandy, as he winked slyly at\nDick.\nMalemute Slade kicked a branch of burning wood into the center of the\nroaring campfire and turned eagerly to address the scarlet-coated figure\nof Corporal Richardson.\n\u201cIt couldn\u2019t o\u2019 come out any better if we\u2019d done the thing ourselves,\u201d\nhe drawled complaisantly. \u201cI guess there ain\u2019t anybody what can deny\nthat. Here\u2019s the mine\u2014an\u2019 there\u2019s Dick an\u2019 Sandy an\u2019 that young scamp of\na Toma\u2014all as safe an\u2019 happy an\u2019 contented as if nothin\u2019 had ever\nhappened.\u201d\nAs he spoke, Slade pointed to the ruins of the log cabin, around which\nthe three boys had gathered. In the center of the charred and littered\nspace, one could make out, even at that distance, a gaping hole\npartially filled with debris. But no one, unless he had made a more\nthorough investigation, might have guessed that the hole, instead of\nbeing the cellar or basement of the ruined cabin was, in reality, the\nmain shaft leading to a very valuable gold mine.\nThe ruined cabin was the one and only grim reminder of a night of\ntragedy. Slade eyed it contemplatively as he continued in his drawling\ntone:\n\u201cIt kind o\u2019 makes me shudder when I think o\u2019 what might have happened if\nDick hadn\u2019t fought Baptiste, when the Frenchie knocked down the Indian\nkid. It\u2019s the only thing that saved \u2019em. Them Indians is as friendly now\nas the friendliest Cree in the settlements along the Peace. The chief\u2019s\nson was over here \u2019bout an hour ago to pay his respects to the boys an\u2019\nto promise \u2019em that they needn\u2019t worry \u2019bout bein\u2019 molested. That\u2019s what\nI call gratitude.\u201d\n\u201cWhen the boys told their story I could hardly believe it,\u201d Corporal\nRichardson spoke reminiscently; \u201cI can imagine how they felt when the\nIndian attack took place. Sandy said that the three of them were so\nstruck with terror, that for a long time they didn\u2019t move a foot away\nfrom their bed-rolls. The attack was nearly over before they plucked up\nsufficient courage to make an attempt to escape.\u201d\nMalemute Slade drew out his pipe and grinned across at the mounted\npoliceman.\n\u201cAt any rate, them Indians has saved you an\u2019 me a whole lot o\u2019 trouble.\nI don\u2019t imagine we\u2019ll ever hear from Henderson again. His band is pretty\nwell broke up. I sometimes wonder how many o\u2019 them outlaws escaped.\u201d\n\u201cNo one knows except the Indians, and I doubt very much whether they do.\nThe outlaws left everything behind, including those precious moose-hide\nsacks, and a large quantity of supplies and provisions. The boys have\nfood enough to last them for seven or eight months.\u201d\nHe broke off suddenly, as a familiar figure emerged from a small canvas\ntent in the space to the right and came over to join them. Advancing,\nFactor MacClaren waved an arm cheerily.\n\u201cI\u2019m getting things in order over at my private hotel,\u201d he laughingly\ncalled out. \u201cAt my age, gentlemen, personal comfort means everything. It\nis as necessary and important to my well-being as excitement and\nadventure is to those three young scallawags over there at the mine.\nThere they are puttering about, entirely oblivious of the fact that it\u2019s\nfully three-quarters of an hour past our regular lunch time.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll call \u2019em,\u201d said Malemute Slade, placing two fingers in his mouth.\n\u201cNow watch \u2019em race!\u201d\nAt the shrill summons, three jostling forms scrambled over the rocks\nnear the site of the former cabin, and sped forward for a few yards,\nneck and neck. Then the race became a hard fought contest in which Dick,\npanting and out of breath, won by a narrow margin from Toma. Sandy was\ngrumbling as he came up.\n\u201cThey had to push me, of course. I\u2019m protesting this race on the grounds\nthat two of the contestants presumed to take unfair advantage.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll look into it,\u201d laughingly promised Corporal Richardson. Then he\nturned to the victor. \u201cDick, how are operations progressing at the\nmine?\u201d\n\u201cFine!\u201d panted Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll clear the shaft before night. Once we\u2019re\nable to get into the mine, work\u2019ll go along more quickly.\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s one thing I don\u2019t understand,\u201d Sandy\u2019s uncle declared, as he\npulled a grub-sack closer to the fire. \u201cYour mine hasn\u2019t a dump. What\nbecomes of the rock and shale?\u201d\n\u201cWe asked ourselves that very same question,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cbut we\ndiscovered the answer the first time we descended into the mine. We have\nwater pressure to carry away everything except the pure ore itself.\u201d\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t understand,\u201d puzzled the factor. \u201cWhat do you mean by water\npressure?\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s an underground river which flows below the mine,\u201d explained\nDick. \u201cOne of the passageways slopes down to a wide opening, through\nwhich one can hear the sound of rushing water. The former owners of the\nmine dumped all of the refuse here and it was quickly carried away.\nSandy and I have figured out that the source of the river is the deep\nlake, near the wooden cross, two miles to the east of us. You remember\nseeing it.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered the factor.\n\u201cYou boys are rich now,\u201d congratulated Corporal Richardson. \u201cWhat are\nyou going to do with all your wealth?\u201d\n\u201cWell, we have some pressing obligations,\u201d hinted Dick.\n\u201cWhat are they?\u201d\n\u201cOur first debt is to the Indians. We\u2019ve decided to give them half\nownership in the mine. Papers will be made out in the regular way and a\nguardian appointed.\u201d\n\u201cWho will be the guardian?\u201d asked Factor MacClaren.\n\u201cThe Royal North West Mounted.\u201d\n\u201cBut they may not care to accept such a responsibility,\u201d smiled the\ncorporal.\n\u201cO they\u2019re all pretty decent fellows,\u201d teased Sandy. \u201cI don\u2019t think\nwe\u2019ll have very much difficulty on that score.\u201d\nCorporal Richardson laughed.\n\u201cAre yuh really serious \u2019bout this, Dick?\u201d demanded Malemute Slade. \u201cYuh\ndon\u2019t mean you\u2019d give half the mine to them Indians?\u201d\n\u201cWe don\u2019t mean anything else,\u201d Dick spoke very quietly. \u201cThey spared our\nlives. We wouldn\u2019t be here now if it wasn\u2019t for them. When we went to\nschool back in the States, our history books told us how white men have\nbeen taking land and valuable resources away from the Indians for the\npast three hundred years. Here\u2019s one case where the Indian is going to\nreceive what\u2019s coming to him.\u201d\n\u201cHere! Here!\u201d shouted the factor. \u201cGood boy, Dick! If you and Sandy and\nToma can manage to carry out your plan successfully we\u2019ll all be proud\nof you.\u201d\nDick flushed with embarrassment, then hurried on:\n\u201cThe debt to the Indians is not the only one. There are three persons,\nall of them white men, who are entitled to share in our good fortune.\nThese men are Factor MacClaren, Corporal Richardson and Malemute Slade.\u201d\nThe right hand of the mounted policeman stole over to Dick\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cWe appreciate your kindness, Dick, but I\u2019m afraid that you\u2019ll have to\nwipe out a part of that debt. As members of the force, we\u2014Malemute Slade\nand myself\u2014have no right to accept anything at all. We\u2019ve already been\npaid for any service we may have rendered you. It is a part of our\nregular duty.\u201d\n\u201cIf that\u2019s the case, will you and Malemute Slade accept our thanks for\nall you\u2019ve done for us,\u201d blurted out Sandy.\n\u201cGladly! It is nothing at all. We wish you every success in your new\nundertaking.\u201d\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said Dick and Sandy in unison.\nA short silence ensued. Presently Sandy walked over to the grub-sack and\nstooped down to untie the string.\n\u201cI\u2019m hungry as a bear,\u201d he grumbled. \u201cIt\u2019s getting so there\u2019s no system\naround this camp. Who\u2019s cook?\u201d\n\u201cI suppose,\u201d said Corporal Richardson with a sly twinkle in his eye,\n\u201cthat when the ghost of Scar-Face or Henderson or Baptiste La Lond comes\nback here to visit you, he won\u2019t recognize your thriving mining town as\nthe place of his former misfortunes.\u201d\n\u201cYou bet he won\u2019t!\u201d emphatically declared Sandy.\nDick laughed\u2014a cheery, boyish laugh\u2014as he picked up a frying pan and a\nslab of bacon, opened his hunting knife and then squatted down in front\nof the fire.\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and\n  dialect unchanged.\n--Replaced the otherwise unknown Sandy MacPherson by Sandy MacClaren.\n--Added a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.\n--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the\n  HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Dick Kent in the Far North, by Milton Richards\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK KENT IN THE FAR NORTH ***\n***** This file should be named 50505-0.txt or 50505-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\n                   HAWAII NATURAL HISTORY ASSOCIATION\n                UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR\n                         NATIONAL PARK SERVICE\n    [Illustration: NATIONAL PARK SERVICE]\n                        PUBLISHED IN COOPERATION\n                     WITH THE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE\n    Covers: Silversword in bloom\n                    _illustrated by Donald M. Black_\n    [Illustration: HAWAII \u00b7 NATURAL \u00b7 HISTORY \u00b7 ASSOCIATION]\n                   HAWAII NATURAL HISTORY ASSOCIATION\n    [Illustration: On the Sliding Sands Trail]\nMost of us yearn to travel, and the preliminary to travel is to choose a\nplace that others, people or books, say is interesting, then find out\nmore about it.\nThis guide is to help you find out more about Haleakala. It is neither a\nreference book nor a treatise. It sums up what many have studied and\nobserved. It skims over the myths that the mountain itself created in\nthe imagination of old Hawaiians. It reflects also the labor and thought\nof the compiler. Its aim is to satisfy your interest while you are here\non the brim, or at some other point. For some of you it may be the start\nof a deeper curiosity, to be satisfied by further reading elsewhere.\nThink of this booklet as a chatty companion along the way, and a ready\nreminder after you have left, of your pleasant experience at Haleakala.\nThe system of 29 National Parks contains areas of superlative scenic and\nscientific grandeur essentially in the primitive state. The National\nPark Service of the Department of the Interior administers these, as\nwell as 152 other areas of outstanding national significance. The law of\nthe land enjoins us to use them in such manner that they may be passed\nunimpaired for the enjoyment of future generations.\nThe story of HAWAII NATIONAL PARK is the story of active volcanism\nsingularly marked by eruptions of very fluent lava. The park is in two\nsections; that on the island of Maui, discussed in this guide, includes\nthe great eroded crater of Haleakala Volcano; that on the island of\nHawaii embraces the summits of Mauna Loa and Kilauea Volcanoes.\n    [Illustration: The silversword is the pride and distinction of\n    Haleakala.]\nHaleakala _is a great volcano, 33 miles long and 10,025 feet high.\nDuring a long period of inactivity, stream erosion cut two deep valleys,\nKeanae and Kaupo, into its sides. These joined near the summit. When\nvolcanic activity once again resumed, flows of aa and blankets of\ncinders were spread on the valley floors. A multicolored cover,\nemphasized by symmetrical cones, formed the new floor of the depression,\nnow loosely called Haleakala Crater._\n_The well chosen name, Hale-a-ka-la, means House of the Sun. Old\nHawaiians associated Maui, a trickster demi-God, with the mountain. He\nwas a legendary figure throughout Polynesia long before a few of its\ninhabitants discovered and settled in Hawaii, bringing their gods with\nthem._\n_How Maui brought down or ensnared the sun has several versions. Maui\u2019s\nmother, Hina, had trouble drying bark cloth, kapa, because the day was\ntoo short, its warmth insufficient. The sun just sped too fast across\nthe sky. So Maui fashioned a strong net to snare it in its course. A\nslight variant, possibly less used, appeals more strongly. In early\ndawn, one can watch strong streamers of light from the rising sun break\nthrough the clouds and stalk across the crater. With these spidery legs\nthe sun progresses through the heavens. As one by one they were placed\nover Koolau Gap, Maui seized them and bound them with strong thongs to\nan ohia tree. Thus captured, the sun pleaded for release. This Maui\ngranted on promise of a slower gait, for which Hina as well as the rest\nof us can be eternally thankful._\n  PART I\n  Your Vacation in the Haleakala Section                                1\n  Hosmer Grove Campground and Picnic Area                               2\n  An Outfit for Hiking in Haleakala Crater                              7\n  Numbered Points of Interest on the Map                                8\n  PART II\nAnticipate a restful, invigorating interlude. Islanders consider\nvacation on the cool mountain an inexpensive, pleasant variant from a\nmainland trip.\nSilversword Inn at an elevation of 6,800 feet is popular with luncheon\nguests and with those staying overnight to view sunset or sunrise from\nthe summit of the great mountain. Attractive, friendly, comfortable, it\nis the loftiest hostelry in the islands. There is no formal atmosphere:\nwarm, casual clothing is worn; it is strictly \u201ccome in as you are.\u201d\nHiking and riding in the vicinity of the inn are favorite pastimes.\nAdjacent groves of trees of the Temperate Zone impart an aspect novel to\nthe islands. A visit is highlighted by trips into the crater and to the\nsummit, less than thirty minutes distant by car. The cup runneth over\nfor photographers and nature enthusiasts. You can enjoy cool, restful\nnights between daytime drives to the many points of interest on Maui.\nFor further details, reservations, and rates, consult the Manager,\nSilversword Inn, R.R. 53, Waiakoa, Maui, Hawaii, or Mr. William S.\nEllis, Jr., 900 Nuuanu Ave., Honolulu 17, Hawaii.\nThe Haleakala road climbs through plantations and ranchland from Kahului\nHarbor and Kahului Airport to the park entrance at an elevation of 6,740\nfeet. The distance by the shortest route is thirty miles. The highway\ncontinues eleven miles further to the Park Observatory on the western\nrim of Haleakala Crater and to the 10,025-foot summit. No bus service\nexists, but taxis and U-drive cars are hired at the airport and in the\ntowns of Kahului and Wailuku. The sole access into the crater is over\ngood trails for travel on foot or by horse.\nThe start of a drive to the park is made by one of three paved routes.\nThe shortest is Pukalani Road. The other two turn inland at Paia or\nHaiku and traverse more interesting country. The three routes converge\nat Pukalani Junction ten miles up the mountain. PUKALANI means a hole in\nheaven, which picturesquely describes the fact that the sun breaks\nthrough at this place despite a general overcast elsewhere.\nAs the road rises up and ever up, it unfolds distant views of fields of\nsugar cane and pineapple, of West Maui Range, 6,000 feet high, and of\nMolokai, Lanai, Kahoolawe, and Molokini Islands beyond channels of blue\nsea. 100 miles southward, the tops of the snowy volcanoes on the Island\nof Hawaii float on billowy clouds. 10,000 feet below, the aquamarine\nPacific fringes Maui with white surf.\nThree viewpoints along the road overlook the great crater: Leleiwi, at\nthe 9,000-foot switchback; Kalahaku, two miles below the summit: and the\nPark Observatory, near the top. The roadway extends along the crest one\nmile southwestward to a scenic point beyond the park boundary and a\ncommunication station of the Civil Aeronautics Administration.\nJust above the park entrance, Silversword Inn, a National Park\nconcession, offers meals, rooms, souvenirs, horseback riding and guided\nhorseback trips into the crater. Across from the inn, a paved spur road\nleads a half mile to Hosmer Grove Campground and Picnic Area.\nHaleakala Crater is a favorite with those who like the back-country; its\ninspiring scenery and restful solitude are great reward for time and\neffort. The National Park Service maintains three cabins on the crater\nfloor and 30 miles of well-marked trails for hikers and horseback\nparties.\n                HOSMER GROVE CAMPGROUND AND PICNIC AREA\nA quarter mile above the park entrance, opposite the driveway to the\ninn, a paved lane, one-half mile long, leads to the Hosmer Grove\nCampground and Picnic Area. It has a shelter for rainy weather that\ncontains two tables and two charcoal burners. Four additional tables\nwith adjacent charcoal burners are in an open site below the road.\nRunning water, parking space for eight cars, and sites for pitching\ntents are provided. Charcoal may be purchased at the inn. A self-guiding\nnature trail leads through the grove.\n    [Illustration: HOSMER GROVE\n    CAMPGROUND AND PICNIC AREA]\nThe grove was named for the first Territorial forester, Dr. Ralph S.\nHosmer, who experimented with planting temperate trees at high altitudes\non Haleakala and Mauna Kea. Trees, planted here in 1910, include the\ndeodar, _Cedrus deodara_ from the Himalayas; the tsugi, _Cryptomeria\njaponica_ from Japan; eucalypti from Australia; and from the mainland a\ncypress, _Cupressus arizonica_; a juniper, _Juniperus virginiana_;\nDouglas fir, _Pseudotsuga taxifolia_; incense cedar, _Libocedrus\ndecurrens_; two spruces, _Picea canadensis_, _P. excelsa_; and seven\npines: lodgepole, _Pinus contorta_, Coulter or big-cone, _P. coulteri_,\nJeffrey, _P. jeffreyi_, longleaf, _P. palustris_, ponderosa or western\nyellow, _P. ponderosa_, white, _P. strobus_, and Scotch, _P.\nsylvestris_. Many of these have survived and have borne fruits. The huge\nkeeled cones of Coulter pines are cherished as ornaments in some homes.\nNative plants associated with the area are the shrubs: Haleakala\nsandalwood, mamane, pukiawe, aalii, mountain pilo, ohelo, silver\ngeranium, kupaoa; two or three ferns; two sedges; and three native\ngrasses.\nTwo thirds of the distance to the grove, the crater trail from the inn\nstarts up the mountain to the left. This is a connecting link, 1\u00be miles\nlong, to the Halemauu Trail which it joins a half mile below its start\non the highway. _See Numbered Points of Interest, No. 9._\nThe Sliding Sands Trail, the popular route into the crater, starts from\nthe parking area at the Observatory. It is constructed along the south\nside of the crater to Kapalaoa Cabin six miles away. Connecting trails\ngo to Paliku Cabin, four miles farther. The Halemauu Trail has two upper\nends, at the 8,000-foot elevation on the highway and on the Hosmer Grove\nCampground Spur near Silversword Inn. Halemauu Trail goes down Leleiwi\nPali, the west wall, to Holua Cabin, four miles from the road or six\nmiles from the lodge. The trail continues easterly from Holua for six\nmiles along the north side of the crater floor to Paliku. Branch trails\nare built to points of interest. The Kaupo Trail through Kaupo Gap\nleaves Paliku Cabin and the crater to make a rapid descent of the\nsouthern, sun-drenched slope.\nEach of the three visitor cabins within the crater, Kapalaoa, Paliku,\nand Holua, is equipped with running water, a wood-burning cookstove,\nfirewood, kerosene lamps, cooking and eating utensils, twelve bunks,\nmattresses, and blankets. Use of these cabins by hikers on a priority\nreservation basis is granted free of charge by the Park. In\nconsideration for their use _cabins should be left clean and in order_\nby each party. The following arrangements are necessary: write the Park,\ngiving an outline of your proposed trip, number in the party, exact\ncalendar dates, and names of specific cabins which you wish to use each\nnight. The address is: \u201cHawaii National Park, Haleakala Section, P. O.\nBox 456, Kahului, Maui, Hawaii.\u201d Cabin reservations can also be made by\ntelephoning the Park. When you arrive in the Park, stop at the\nAdministration Building for your permit, cabin key, and orientation.\n                         SUGGESTED HIKING TRIPS\n_For safety reasons, all visitors are required to obtain permits from\nthe rangers for all trips into the crater, other than those with\nSilversword Inn guides._\n_Short Walks for the Day Visitor_: (1) Along Halemauu Trail from the\nhighway to the Crater Rim, three-quarters of a mile. Views down Keanae\nValley, across Koolau Gap to Hanakauhi, and of Halemauu Trail. (2) A\nshort distance down the Sliding Sands Trail. _Be careful not to travel\ntoo far down._ The return climb is exhausting at this high altitude. (3)\nTo the top of White Hill. The trail winds among ancient Hawaiian\nstonewalled encampment sites.\n_One-day hikes into crater_: (1) Down Halemauu Trail to Holua Cabin and\nreturn to the highway, a scenic trip of eight miles that can be taken by\nany reasonably good hiker. It is not recommended when clouds blanket the\npali and Koolau Gap. Allow a half-day for hiking. (2) Down Sliding Sands\nTrail to the crater floor, across Ka Moa o Pele Trail to Halemauu Trail\nat Pele\u2019s Paint Pot or Bottomless Pit, and return to the highway via\nHolua and the Halemauu Trail. This colorful, spectacular twelve-mile\ntrip is recommended only for good hikers. Allow eight hours of hiking\ntime. _At your risk_, rangers can often arrange to move your car for you\nto the place at which the Halemauu Trail emerges on the highway.\n_Overnight crater hikes_: Hike down Sliding Sands Trail; spend the night\nat either Paliku, Kapalaoa, or Holua Cabin; return via Halemauu Trail.\nThe choice overnight hike to Paliku, a 20-mile round-trip, is\nrecommended for good hikers only. The trip with an overnight stop at\nKapalaoa is 14 miles long. The shortest route from the foot of Sliding\nSands Trail to Holua via Ka Moa o Pele leaves only the four-mile climb\nvia Halemauu Trail for the second day. _The Sliding Sands Trail is not\nrecommended for return from a crater trip._ The long climb to an\nelevation of 10,000 feet is too exhausting for most people.\n_Two and three day crater hikes_: Entry via the Sliding Sands and return\nvia Halemauu Trail is recommended. A three-night trip stopping at\nKapalaoa, Paliku, and Holua allows leisurely enjoyment of the crater.\nGood health and fair walking ability are all that are required for these\nlonger trips.\n    [Illustration: 1. Koolau Gap; 2. Waikau; 3. Hanakauhi Peak; 4.\n    Paliku; 5. Puu Maile; 6. Kaupo Gap; 7. Haleakala Peak; 8. Puu Kumu;\n    9. Puu Naue; 10. Ka Moa o Pele; 11. Puu o Maui; 12. Kamohoalii; 13.\n    Ka Lua o ka Oo; 14. Puu o Pele.]\nNo guide service is available or necessary for parties hiking or riding\ntheir own stock into the crater. However, a permit is required before\nyou start your trip within the crater. For details, consult the section\nlabelled \u201cPark Cabins.\u201d\n                AN OUTFIT FOR HIKING IN HALEAKALA CRATER\nClothing should consist of hiking shoes, slacks, shirt, jacket, hat, and\npreferably a light raincoat. Basketball shoes or keds are preferred by\nsome. Because of the chill climate at elevations of seven to ten\nthousand feet, warm clothing is advisable. In climbing, temperature goes\ndown as you go up. The top of Haleakala averages thirty degrees cooler\nthan sea level. You should bring your food for the trip, a knapsack,\nsunburn lotion, soap, hand towel, dish towel, matches, and simple first\naid. As cooking facilities in the cabins are adequate, food need not be\nprecooked.\n                         HORSEBACK CRATER TRIPS\nSilversword Inn provides horseback trips on good stock with a competent\nguide. Food is provided, cooking is done by the guide, and sleeping\naccommodations are arranged by the management. A guest need only concern\nhimself about personal effects and clothing suitable for riding in a\ncool climate. For rates and trip reservations, telephone or write to the\nManager, Silversword Inn, R.R. 53, Waiakoa, Maui, Hawaii, or to Mr.\nWilliam S. Ellis, Jr., 900 Nuuanu Ave., Honolulu 17, Hawaii.\n_If you have your own horses_ make the same arrangements as hikers for\nentry into the crater and for cabin use. You may travel on any of the\ncrater trails. Fenced horse pastures are adjacent to each of the cabins.\n                 NUMBERED POINTS OF INTEREST ON THE MAP\n_Basic data for this section was compiled by the park staff and\nsubmitted by Eugene J. Barton, Assistant Superintendent in charge of\nHaleakala from 1949-1955. The map is in the center of the booklet._\n1. _Park entrance_ (elev. 6,740\u2032) _and inn_: The park entrance, marked\nby a rustic sign, is on the slope of Puu Nianiau, an ancient cinder\ncone. _Nianiau_ is Hawaiian for swordfern. One quarter mile above the\nentrance turn right to the Silversword Inn for meals, lunches, overnight\naccommodations, color pictures, slides, and souvenirs of the park. The\ninn arranges guided trips through Haleakala Crater.\n2. _Ralph S. Hosmer Grove_: Across from the lodge, a paved spur road\nleads to the Hosmer Grove Campground and Picnic Area.\n3. _Headquarters of the Haleakala Section of Hawaii National Park_: Stop\nat the Administration Building beside the road for information, permits,\ncabin keys needed on crater trips, and for assistance in case of trouble\nor accident. The park maintenance area is located behind the station. As\nyou drive toward the summit, note the small native trees and shrubs\ngrowing along the road. This elfin forest was all but destroyed by goats\nand cattle; it has recovered under National Park protection. The book,\n\u201cPlants of Hawaii National Park,\u201d and the section on plants in this\nguide may help you identify the different species. These and other\npublications of the Hawaii Natural History Association may be purchased\nat the inn or at Park Headquarters.\n4. _Leleiwi Overlook_; _Kalahaku Overlook_: At the switchback near the\n9,000-foot contour, a parking space has been constructed that is\nlabelled LELEIWI OVERLOOK. This is above Holua and the Halemauu Trail,\nso that parties can be watched as they go down Leleiwi Pali. On clear\ndays, the whole length of Keanae Valley can be seen through Koolau Gap.\nThe lateral view extends from Hana Airport across the big isthmus to\nKihei on Maalaea Bay. On afternoons, clouds roll into the gap, making\nthis a good place to see the Brocken Specter. One\u2019s shadowy image\nappears within a circular rainbow, projected against the bank of cloud.\nKALAHAKU OVERLOOK (elev. 9,325\u2032) is a remarkable view point on the\ncrater rim that is reached by a short spur off the main park road. It is\nthe site of the Old Rest House, in which travellers on foot or horseback\nstayed overnight before the road was built. Silversword plants may be\nseen just below the main parking area. KALAHAKU is the name of the\nrugged pali forming the crater wall at this point. The name means\n\u201cmeeting place of the headmen or chiefs.\u201d\n5. _The Observatory_ commands a spectacular view of the crater near the\nsummit of Haleakala. It was erected in 1937 by the National Park Service\nfor your comfort and convenience. The observatory is the main objective\nof most visitors to Haleakala. Besides being a welcome shelter during\ninclement weather, it has a large relief map and interpretive\norientation devices. Modern rest rooms are located to the rear of the\nbuilding.\n6. _White Hill, Pakaoao_ (elev. 9,865\u2032); _start of Sliding Sands Trail_:\nThe rocky hill, just above the observatory, is capped with andesite, a\nvolcanic rock lighter in color and different in composition from the\ncommon basaltic lava of Hawaii. The southwest slope, up which the trail\nleads, is covered with Hawaiian sleeping shelters consisting of oval\nstone-walled enclosures. These gave protection against the wind, fog,\nand cold that is common here. They may have been used long ago by\nwayfarers or by sentries and groups of warriors stationed at this\ncommanding site. They may also have served as ambush for professional\nrobbers, _aihue_, who waylaid travellers in lonely places. Refer to the\ntopic, \u201cThe Tradition of Kaoao\u201d in \u201cHaleakala Hawaiiana\u201d for more of the\nstory.\n7. _Red Hill, Pakaoao, Summit of Haleakala_ (original English name,\nPendulum Peak; elev. 10,025\u2032): To drive to the summit take the paved\nroad, turning sharply left below the observatory parking area. Red Hill\nis the highest of the three prominent recent cinder cones. Early morning\nis a good time to view extended panoramas and distant seascapes, before\nstreaks of clouds form shelves along the sides of the mountain. But\nafternoon is better for viewing the crater, as its features appear in\nexcellent light and color at that time. A pointer table by the road\nindicates the names of islands and peaks seen. An Army radar and radio\ncommunication station was located on Red Hill during World War II.\n    [Illustration: Halemauu Trail on Leleiwi Pali.]\n8. _Skyline Drive_: An improved driveway to the Civil Aeronautics\nRepeater Station leaves the park at the pass between Red Hill and\nKolekole. Views stretch down the vast, precipitous southwest outer slope\nof Haleakala to the Lualailua Hills and a desert seashore, ten thousand\nfeet below. Morning will most likely yield the cloud-free views. The\nAeronautics Station is open to visitors. A parking area is just outside\nthe gate to the station. Kolekole is the site of television relays and a\nsatellite tracking station. It is a mile from the Observatory to the\nsummit of Kolekole. It is 1.7 miles from the Observatory at the FAA\nStation. Magnetic Peak is across the road from Red Hill. A huge\ncuriously shaped bomb on its skyline has a silhouette that looks much\nlike a sitting duck.\n    [Illustration: Volcanic bomb on Magnetic Peak.]\n9. _The Halemauu Trail_ starts from a curve on the park road at the\n8,000 foot elevation. It leads down a gentle slope for eight-tenths of a\nmile to the crater rim. An alternate start is on the driveway into\nHosmer Grove Campground, near Silversword Inn. Built by the National\nPark Service in 1937, the trail drops with a gentle grade down the\n1500-foot Leleiwi Pali to the crater floor. It suggests thrilling trails\nin Glacier National Park and other rugged mainland areas as it swings\nand clings to the vertical cliffs. Hike to the crater rim for\nspectacular views of Windward Maui and Keanae Valley in fair weather; if\nclouds are rolling up Koolau Gap in the evening, you may possibly be\ngreeted by the Specter of the Brocken. Silver geraniums, Hinahina, small\nspherical shrubs peculiar to Haleakala, grow along the upper trail and\nroad. HALEMAUU, grass house, is said to be derived from one formerly\nlocated near the head of the trail.\n10. _Holua Cabin_ rests in a grassy plot at the foot of the towering,\n3,000-foot Leleiwi Pali. Introduced grasses grow in the meadow near it.\nThe pale \u201cmoss\u201d on the rough lava flow is _Stereocaulon_, actually a\nlichen, that strange combination of an alga and a fungus growing\ntogether to appear as one plant. This pioneer on barren new lavas is\nsometimes called Hawaiian Snow. The comparatively recent flow in front\nof the cabin contains lava tubes or caves. These are rough and\ndangerous, and should not be entered except by especially equipped\nparties. Holua Cave, above the cabin, was used as a night shelter before\nthe cabin was built.\n11. _Silversword Loop_, a quarter-mile long, deviates from Halemauu\nTrail past several clumps of silversword. Hollows and slopes of the old,\nweathered, red lava flow in this area have favorable conditions for\ntheir growth. Near the east end of the loop, the main trail passes among\nmany piles of stones, ahus, markers, and platforms built by the\nHawaiians. This place, known as KEAHUOKAHOLO, appears to have had\nspecial or sacred significance. State law, as well as Hawaiian customs\nand ethics, strictly forbids disturbing or damaging any of these ancient\nstructures.\n12. _Kihapiilani Road_: From a black, cinder-covered flat, an old\nHawaiian pathway crosses the rough shoulder of the small cone on Halalii\nto smoother surface between Mamane Hill and Puu Kumu. It is six to eight\nfeet wide and is paved with flat stones. The start, difficult to locate,\nis to the right of a small, horned spattercone seen from the trail as\nyou look toward Hanakauhi Peak. A chief, Kihapiilani, built the trail\nover Mauna Hina along the North Rim to a pond, Wai Ale, probably the\npresent Wai Anapanapa on the exterior slope. Refer to \u201cThe Legend of\nKihapiilani\u201d in \u201cHaleakala Hawaiiana\u201d for the story.\n13. _Bottomless Pit_ is a yawning black well, ten feet in diameter,\nrimmed with colored lava spatter a few feet high. _Use caution\napproaching its edge._ Baseless legend claims that it sinks to sea\nlevel. Although no bottom can be seen, debris chokes the opening sixty\nor seventy feet below. It is a vent, through which superheated gases\nwere emitted in an eruption of long ago. The rim around the throat\nindicates that a little lava sputtered out with the gas. During the\nflank eruptions of Mauna Loa and Kilauea similar vents exhale columns of\nblue, incandescent gases at intervals. Old Hawaiians at Kaupo say that\nthe pit was used for disposition of umbilical cords of babies. Various\nreasons are assigned to the custom, such as to make the child strong, or\nto prevent its becoming a thief.\n14. _Ka Moa o Pele Trail_ branches from the foot of the Sliding Sands\nTrail to join the Halemauu Trail across the crater. It is a scenic route\nbetween silverswords on Ka Moa o Pele, a red cinder cone. Flowering\nplants can usually be seen from June to September. Pa Puaa o Pele,\nPele\u2019s Pig Pen, is the rim of a spatter cone, now buried, in the low\npass between Halalii and Ka Moa o Pele. Hikers from Sliding Sands to\nHolua should go around the right or east side of Halalii to see the\nBottomless Pit and Pele\u2019s Paint Pot, a colorful pass just a short\ndistance beyond.\n15. _Bubble Cave_ is a large, collapsed bubble with heavy walls. It was\nblown by gases in ancient molten lava. Only a small segment collapsed in\nthe center of the roof, which serves as entrance and smoke-hole;\nold-timers were wont to camp in this natural shelter. It was the rest\nstop now supplanted by Kapalaoa Cabin.\n16. _Wailuku Cabin_, outside the park, was built by the State Board of\nAgriculture and Forestry for the use of hunters. Arrangements for its\nuse must be made at the Maui Office of the Board in Kahului. Trails to\nit are not of park standards and are not recommended to sightseers.\n17. _Old and New Volcanics_: Dikes that protrude as slabs of\nlight-colored rock from slopes of the ridge toward Hanakauhi mark part\nof the ancient divide between Koolau and Kaupo Valleys, the great\nerosional canyons worn into the mountain during an age of quiescence.\nThis divide is deeply buried inside the crater under the cinders and\nflows of renewed eruptions that form the present floor. Adjacent Mauna\nHina and Namana o ke Akua, green with shrubs, grass, and scrub mamane,\nare cinder cones from ancient eruptions. Puu Nole, a garish, black\nyoungster in the community, has only silverswords on its barren slopes.\nTowards Paliku the trail is flanked by some of the most recent lava\nflows, only a few hundred years old. Their source vents are visible on\nthe slopes of Hanakauhi and the north wall of the crater.\n18. _Lauulu Trail_ is plainly visible as it zigzags up the north wall.\nAlthough not maintained at present, it is passable and allows rugged\nenthusiasts to climb the rim for views of the crater. On the outer\nslopes, moist grassy plots, often fog-bound, blend into jungle that\ndrops to the Hana Coast, 8,000 feet below. Kalapawili Ridge extends from\nthe summit of Hanakauhi Mountain eastward around the head of Kipahulu\nValley to the tiny lake, Wai Anapanapa. It is readily traversable for\nthe good hiker.\n19. _Paliku_ is very different from the desert wastes in the other parts\nof the crater. Lush grass and ferns, overhanging forest trees, and a\nverdant cover on a towering pali result from abundant clouds pushed by\nthe trade winds over the east wall. AKALA, the giant Hawaiian raspberry,\nripens abundantly back of the cabins in July. It is excellent for pie,\nconserves, or dessert. Native Hawaiian trees include: MAMANE, far larger\nthan the scrubby growth in the crater; OHIA, with gray-green leaves and\nred lehua flowers; KOLEA, with thick magnolia-like leaves four inches\nlong; OLAPA, with leaves that tremble in the slightest breeze, like\nthose of quaking aspen. The conifer above the Ranger Cabin is a\ncryptomeria, a Japanese evergreen planted early in this century.\n20. _Kipahulu Valley_, beyond the eastern rim, is a remote, jungle\nwilderness walled in by loftiest cliffs; a no man\u2019s land, it has barely\nbeen explored, let alone touched or altered by civilization. Look from\nthe cabin at Paliku across the pasture to the lowest notch in the sheer\neastern pali. For a view into Kipahulu, a good climber can follow an old\ngoat trail, steep and tortuous, that leads up the left side of the draw\nto this notch. A chorus of bird songs rises from the primeval forest in\nKipahulu. With them you may hear complacent squeals of wild pigs that\nhave been undisturbed for generations.\n21. _Kaupo Trail_ is a good trail that winds down Kaupo Gap, across\nlittle meadows, through groves of small AALII trees, and under spreading\nKOA trees to the park boundary which is below the 4,000-foot contour.\nWild goats may be heard on the pali or on the lavas in the gap. Kaupo\nRanch extends below the park. From the redwood water tanks, a jeep trail\ndescends through pastures to ranch headquarters. It is 8 miles from\nPaliku to ranch headquarters, which can be hiked in a half day. Kaupo\nVillage on the belt road around Haleakala is 1\u00bd miles further. The route\nis interesting, but arrangements must be made in advance to be met by\ncar either at the ranch or the village. It is fifty miles from Central\nMaui by the shortest road. Although Kaupo Trail crosses private\nproperty, advance permission is not required to use it; but, in due\nconsideration, please use care to close gates and do not molest or\ndamage any property. _The reverse trip from Kaupo Village into the\ncrater is not recommended_ because of the long, arduous climb up the\nunsheltered, south-facing mountain slope.\n    [Illustration: Paliku Cabin.]\n                          HALEAKALA HAWAIIANA\nThus starts the story of Maui, beloved demi-god of all Polynesia in the\nnever-never land of long ago. Not wanted as a babe, for he was scrawny\nand deformed, his mother, Hina, wrapped him in a lock of her hair and\ncast him into the sea. But jellyfish rescued and mothered him, and the\ngod, Kanaloa, gave him protection. For all that, the growing youngster\nyearned for his own, so that one day he crept back and stealthily\nmingled with his four brothers. He was accepted in the family circle\nonly after much pleading by the eldest boy.\nMaui-of-a-thousand-tricks is the favorite nickname given this\ndelightful, oft thoroughly human scamp. Throughout his escapades he was\never faithful to man, so frequently fickle and unworthy. Maui made the\nbirds visible, for at first they could only be heard as they sang and\nfluttered through the air. Maui invented spears and barbed fishhooks.\nHis greatest catch, so runs his fish story, was with a huge hook of\npowerful magic made from the lifeless jawbone of his grandmother, who\nwas remarkable, for only one side of her body was alive. He tricked his\nbrothers into the task of manning the paddles while he, equipped with\nhis potent tackle, fished up the Hawaiian Islands from the depths of the\nocean. Maui first had strictly admonished the brothers not to watch him,\nbut only to look straight ahead. When curiosity overcame the belabored\npaddlers, they disobeyed. The line parted as they looked back, leaving\nthe land only partly emerged, a chain of islands instead of a continuous\nwhole.\nThe story of the island of Maui thus begins and\u2014so runs one version\u2014Maui\nlived in plain fashion on simple fare in a humble grass hut at Kauiki,\nthe famous foothill of Haleakala in the district of Hana. Hawaii at the\ntime was covered by darkness and fog, so Maui pushed the heavens to\ntheir present position far above the highest mountains, Haleakala, Mauna\nKea, Mauna Loa, and Hualalai. Before this feat, man had to stoop and\ncrawl, pressed closely to the ground, for the skies were low, and were\nheld up by the plants whose leaves became flattened by their burden,\neven as they remain today. Yet even now, when Maui is asleep, the\nheavens rush back as somber clouds and darken the country with storms.\nFrom Kauiki, Maui made his important journey to the crater to capture\nthe sun and force it to move slowly through the heavens that tapa may be\ndried and fruits can mature. Also there are more daylight hours for\nfishing and ceremonial preparations in the _heiau_. This legend, the\nmost pertinent to this guide, is sketched in the Introduction to Part I.\nMost Hawaiian legends place Maui\u2019s home in the black lava bank of the\nWailuku River above Hilo, while his mother chose the dark cave behind\nRainbow Falls. His exploits, so often capricious, more frequently\nreflect a benefactor\u2019s concern for mankind. Maui disclosed the art of\nmaking fire by rubbing sticks together. Previously, man was dependent on\nPele\u2019s volcanic furnace or on embers carefully nurtured to kindle his\nfires. Maui wrung the secret from Alae, the reluctant mud-hen, who alone\nknew it and guarded it with greatest care. Exasperated by repeated\nfrustration and deception, Maui, once he had gained her secret, punished\nthe stubborn bird by rubbing her head with a stick so roughly that all\nthe feathers came off and raw flesh appeared, which is how it remains\ntoday.\nMaui in his noblest moment gave his all for man, whose frailty brought\nabout the downfall of both. For Maui, too, was doomed to die some day,\nsince his father, like Achilles\u2019 nurse Cynosura, had neglected a part of\nthe proper ceremony to make him immortal. Maui abhorred the fact that\nman must die, for he regarded death as degrading and an insult to the\ndignity of man. The secret of life was hidden within the heart of\nHina-nui-kepo, the dread ogress of death. To win immortality one had to\nsteal through her jaws, which had sharp basalt teeth, enter into the\ninky blackness of the stomach, and tear out the heart. This could only\nbe done while Hina slept. First, Maui turned man into a little bird, and\nadvised him to keep very quiet, lest he awaken the fearful goddess from\nher slumber. Then he went stealthily about his fearsome task, speedily\nand alone. All went well until the return journey; alas! poor, weak man\ncould not restrain himself, but burst into uncontrollable laughter as he\nwatched the plight of the demigod within the ugly, gaping fish-mouth of\nHina. The great jaws closed with a snap that crushed Maui and left Death\never after the victor. Greater love hath no man!\nIt would seem that the crater so high in the sky, so remote in location,\nso difficult in access, so desolate in appearance, so dread in origin,\nshould have been shunned by the early native. Quite the contrary, many\nmarks of frequent and varied use may be discovered in the crater. A\ntrail through it connected the busy sites on West Maui and the isthmus\nwith Kaupo and Hana near the eastern shore. This direct route avoided\nthe wet heavily forested northern slopes of the mountain as well as the\nprecipitous, arid, rough terrain on the southwest. It was easily\ntraversed, in spite of the climb involved.\n                       THE LEGEND OF KIHAPIILANI\n\u201cKihapiilani was one time King of Maui. It was he who caused the road\nfrom Kawaipapa to Kahalaoaka to be paved with smooth rocks, even to the\nforests of Oopuloa in Koolau, Maui. He also was the one who built the\nroad of shells on Molokai.\u201d \u201cAnd,\u201d the great Hawaiian antiquarian,\nAbraham Fornander, might have continued, \u201che caused the trail across the\ncrater of Haleakala to be paved with water-worn stones, to the foot of\nHanakauhi of the mists.\u201d Kihapiilani was the great public works king of\nthe islands.\nBecause of Kihapiilani a most remarkable event of ancient Hawaiian\nhistory came to pass, the expedition of numberless canoes.\nThree and a half centuries ago, Piilani, a king of Maui, had four\nchildren: two sons, Lonoapii who was the eldest child, and Kihapiilani,\nthe youngest; and two daughters, Piikea, who became the wife of King Umi\nof Hawaii, and Kihawahine, now regarded as the lizard god. When the old\nking was dying, he adjured his successor, Lonoapii, to take his place as\nfather and to be kind to the younger brother. But alas, the young prince\nwas neglected and treated with contempt. One day at Waihee, two\ncalabashes of small fish, _nehu_, still wet with sea water, were brought\nto Lonoapii. These he gave to everybody except the younger brother, who,\ntherefore, reached out and helped himself. This angered the king so that\nhe hurled the calabash and its contents into Kihapiilani\u2019s face. Without\na word, Kihapiilani arose and travelled to Kula. After some time, he\ntold his story to the _kahuna_ Apuna and asked what he should do. Apuna\nreplied that he should seek advice at Keanae from a _kahuna_ named\nKahoko. Kahoko sent him to Hana, and from there to Hawaii, following a\ncertain dark object as guide. Kihapiilani and his retinue travelled the\nwindward side of Kohala on foot, swimming through shark-infested waters\naround the bold headlands. Everywhere people gathered to him, for he was\nhandsome and brave. When he reached Laupahoehoe, in Hamakua, he found\nhis sister, Piikea, living with her husband, Umi. Umi had already become\na great chief for he had overthrown his tyrant brother, Hakau, but his\ngreatest deeds were yet to follow. These include the union of all of the\nisland of Hawaii under his rule.\nWhen Kihapiilani explained that he was seeking someone to avenge him,\nfor Lonoapii had thrown salt water into his face, Piikea goaded Umi to\nhelp him, for he had crossed the seas. So Umi sent messengers with\norders that _koa_ be felled and many canoes made ready for the crossing\nto Maui. These were so numerous that when the first canoe reached\nKauiki, the last were still in Waipio. The sea was covered with canoes.\nUmi ordered the canoes to be fastened bow to stern by twos, and in this\nway the men walked across instead of sailing, the canoes being a\ndependable road. This is known in legend as the sailing of numberless\ncanoes.\nAt Kauiki fortress the leader, Hoolae, fought bravely from the top of\nthe hill in daytime, but at night he set a huge wooden image of a man\nwith a bristling war club at the head of the ladder up which the\nattackers had to climb. The trick frightened away all approaching\nenemies, while the defenders slept in peace. One night, however,\nPiimaiwaa took his war club and approached the giant. He hurled insults\nat him from a safe distance. As his taunts drew no response or movement,\nPiimaiwaa twirled his war club, threatened with gestures, and gradually\ncrept closer to discover the clever ruse that had fooled the forces of\nUmi. With that obstacle gone, Umi\u2019s men surprised and slew the enemy.\nHoolae was captured and killed on the eastern side of Haleakala. War\nspread over all of Maui, until Lonapii was slain at Waihee and\nKihapiilani became king of the island. It could well be that during this\ncampaign Kihapiilani became acquainted with our crater, across which he\nlater constructed the paved trail, another monument to his reign.\nSome believe that the trails paved with waterworn rocks were built by\n_menehune_, the dwarf race supposed to work secretively at night.\nActually, the commoners performed the labor, being pressed into service\nfor the task. They formed an endless chain from the coast, so that rocks\ncould be passed from hand to hand until carefully fitted into place on\nthe walkway. The spaces between the larger stones were often filled with\nsand or gravel.\nThe early Mauians had many names for different parts of the crater. Some\nplaces had two names; sometimes one name served more than one place.\nThus there is duplication of use of the name Haleakala, for besides\nbeing the name of the whole volcano, it is also applied to the peak on\nthe rim west of Kaupo Gap. Or could _haole_ confusion have given rise to\nuse for the whole mountain a name that once applied only to a prominence\non the rim?\n    [Illustration: White Hill, Pokaoao.]\n                         THE TRADITION OF KAOAO\nWhite Hill, Pakaoao, (see Numbered Points of Interest, topic 6) is of\npale gray andesitic basalt that splits into slabs. On the leeward side\nare many enclosures built of stone, 3 or 4 feet high, which are believed\nto have been erected as shelters or bivouacs by the men of Kaoao, a\nquarrelsome chieftain who sought refuge on the mountain after he was\ndriven out of Kaupo, early in the 18th century. Dr. Kenneth Emory of\nBishop Museum has an unpublished manuscript, in Hawaiian, of a legend\ngiven to him on June 22, 1922 by Joseph V. Marciel, an old native of\nMaui. Copy of the translation by Maunupau of Honolulu was graciously\ngiven to me so that the story could be told here.\n    [Illustration: The South Wall: Haleakala Peak on left, Puu Kumu on\n    right.]\nThe _heiau_ of Keahuamanono on Haleakala Peak was built by Kaoao,\nyounger brother of Kekaulike, great king of Maui. The brothers were not\nfriends. Kaoao lived on the mountain, but Kekaulike and his men lived by\nfishing and raising crops in Nuu, the district west of Kaupo Valley. One\nday Kaoao sent his men north to find food from Keanae to Hana. After\nthey had departed, Kaoao journeyed to his brother\u2019s house, which he\nfound deserted since Kekaulike had gone fishing. Kaoao proceeded to pull\nand destroy all of his brother\u2019s crops, and then returned up the\nmountain.\nKekaulike was very angry when he discovered all his crops had been\ndestroyed. As he knew whom to blame, he ordered his men to wrap _\u2019ala_,\nsling stones, in ti leaves as if they were potatoes. Armed with these\nthey marched up the mountain, and found Kaoao with his bodyguard only,\nfor his men had not returned from the foray for food. The defenders were\nsoon overpowered, but Kaoao jumped over a cliff in an attempt to escape.\nKekaulike found him dying, and quickly put an end to him. When Kaoao\u2019s\nmen returned from Koolau they found that their leader had been dead many\ndays.\n                          ARCHEOLOGICAL STUDY\nDr. Kenneth Emory made an extensive archeological survey of Haleakala\nCrater in 1920. He records 58 stone terraces and platforms, 9 groups of\nopen stone shelters, hundreds of _ahu_, and the paved trail of\nKihapiilani.[1] (See Numbered Points of Interest, topic 18.)\nThe huge structure built by Kaoao, as mentioned earlier in this chapter,\nstands in the saddle above Kapalaoa, due south of Puu Maile. This is\nwest of the highest point on Haleakala Peak. It measures 57 \u00d7 36 feet\nand has an eastern supporting wall 18 feet high. This has the appearance\nof a _heiau_, possibly used for the worship of Pele. As such, it\nresembles Oalalauo which was located on the rim of Kilauea Iki in the\nKilauea Section of Hawaii National Park. Oalalauo, seen in ruins in\n1823, was described by the missionary William Ellis, who, probably the\nfirst European to go to Kilauea Crater, has given us the first record of\na visit.[2]\nSince the crater is a place of restricted access, it was used for burial\nsites, which is quite in keeping with practice elsewhere in the Hawaiian\nIslands. A curious local custom was the deposit of umbilical cords of\nKaupo babies in certain localities, principally in the Bottomless Pit\n(Numbered Points of Interest, topic 13), and in Na Piko Haua, a pit 15\nfeet in diameter and 10 feet deep that is located northeast of Halemauu\nTrail, less than a half mile east of Holua Cabin. The cord was wrapped\nin a small piece of tapa, or, in recent days, in a scrap of gay calico\nand tied with string. Sometimes it was placed in a bottle or other\ncontainer. This was then carefully stowed in crevices or cast into\nBottomless Pit. Reasons given for the practice vary. It was believed\nthat if the cord were destroyed or eaten by rats the child would become\na thief. Some claimed that proper disposition made a child strong. Some\naver that the custom persists to this day, showing, like belief in the\nexistence of Pele, the durability of ancient superstitions.\nOn the north wall above Paliku is a rock, Pohaku Palaha or Broad Rock,\nwhich is called the \u201chub of East Maui.\u201d Boundary lines radiating from it\nmark off the pie-shaped land divisions, _ahupuaa_, that extend in all\ndirections to the shores of the ocean.\nIt is quite natural that legends, traditions, and superstitions should\nbe woven in and about such a great natural feature as this crater. All\nprominent places had original Hawaiian names, although some were changed\nwith time and some are now lost. Ka Lua o ka Oo was the residence of\nKamohoalii, the brother of Pele and the king of vapor. Between Halalii\nand Ka Moa o Pele is the rim of a spatter cone, Pa Puaa o Pele, which is\n30 feet square with an opening on the northwest side. It protrudes only\n10 feet above later volcanic deposits. This was a place of highest\n_kapu_ (taboo). Merely to disturb a single grain of sand within it will\nbring fog and rain, possibly death. Emory discloses the local belief\nthat a stone structure, 9 \u00d7 5 feet, located 45 feet east of the rim,\nholds the bones of two men and a woman who had violated this _kapu_ and\nwho had perished in the ensuing fog. His investigation failed to reveal\nany burial within the structure. In vaguer vein, it was held that a\nsimilar fate would be meted to those disturbing a silversword. Were the\nNational Park committed to a policy of nature protection through fear,\nthis belief would be helpful indeed.\n                       THE HISTORICAL BACKGROUND\nCaptain James Cook discovered Maui on November 26, 1778, as he sailed\nsouthwestward from Alaska on his last voyage. His record for the day\ngives us the first description of Haleakala: \u201cAn elevated hill appeared\nin the country, whose summit rose above the clouds. The land, from this\nhill, fell in a gradual slope, terminating in a steep, rocky coast; the\nsea breaking against it in a most dreadful surf.... On the 30th ...\nanother island was seen to the windward, called, by the natives,\n_Owhyhee_. That along which we had been for some days, was called\n_Mowee_.\u201d[3]\nAfter sailing along the eastern and southern coasts of the island of\nHawaii in its two armed ships, _Resolution_ and _Discovery_, the\nexpedition landed at Kealakekua Bay on January 17, 1779. Captain Cook\nwas worshipped as the incarnation of the god Lono, but he overstayed his\nwelcome, ill-will and violence taking its place. A climax was reached\nover the theft of a ship\u2019s cutter, which was broken up merely for its\nnails and ironware. On February 14, Cook tried to seize the aged king\nKalaniopuu to hold as a hostage until reparation was made. In the\nscuffle that ensued, the Great Mariner was killed by an _alii_, who\nthrust quite through his back an iron dagger, a chief article of trade\nof the Expedition. Upon departure toward the northwest, the survivors\nreached Maalaea Bay on February 24, on which date the journal remarks\nabout Maui: \u201cThis side of the island forms the same distant view as the\nnorth-east; ... the hilly parts, connected by a low flat isthmus,\nhaving, at the first view, the appearance of two separate islands.\u201d\nThe ill-fated French explorer, Count Jean Francois de Galaup de la\nPerouse, arrived with his two frigates on May 28, 1786, in the bay\nsouthwest of Haleakala that today bears his name. He recorded: \u201cAt every\ninstant we had just cause to regret the country we had left behind us;\nand to add to our mortification, we did not find an anchoring place well\nsheltered till we came to a dismal coast where torrents of lava had\nformerly flowed like the cascades which pour forth their water in other\nparts of the island.\u201d[4] This reference is to the latest flows of\nHaleakala. See page 37.\nOn Vancouver\u2019s first exploring expedition to the islands, Edward Bell\nmade the following entry for March 6, 1792 in the log of the _Chatham_:\n\u201c... the south shore ... had by no means a very inviting appearance,\u2014it\nwas remarkably high and seemed extremely barren;\u2014from the top of the\nMountains to the waters edge are deep Gullies or ruts form\u2019d I suppose\nby the water running down,\u2014and there appeared but little wood on this\nside (except towards the Top) and as little Cultivation, here and there\nwe saw a few Huts and a small Village, several of which appeared half\nway up.\u201d\nOn Vancouver\u2019s next visit, Thomas Manby recorded in the journal for\nMarch 10, 1793: \u201c... south side of the island which presented a prospect\nnot very grateful to the eye as the land was high and rugged with\nfrequent mounds of Cinders caused by volcanic eruptions.\u201d On March 14,\n1793, the botanist A. Menzies, with some of Vancouver\u2019s crew, climbed a\nvalley back of Lahaina and made botanical observations.\nWhen the first missionaries from New England came to Hawaii, Elisha\nLoomis, a printer, remarked in his journal for March 30, 1820: \u201cAs we\ndouble the northern extremity of Owhyhee the lofty heights of Maui are\non our right.\u201d The spelling, Maui, is evidently a correction made later,\nas the original spelling appears elsewhere in early missionary usage.\nAlready by 1822, the members of this expedition had adopted the five\nvowels and seven consonants of the Romance languages used today in\nreducing the Hawaiian language to writing and printing. Thus, the\nconfusion of earlier English writers was dispelled.\nLorrin Andrews and Jonathan F. Green, ordained missionaries, and Dr.\nGerrit P. Judd, physician, were with the third mission from New England.\nThey arrived in Honolulu on March 30, 1828. They visited Rev. William\nRichards in Lahaina and toured Maui the following summer. Extracts\nconcerning the trip of Dr. and Mrs. Judd were published in 1880 with an\nintroductory note by Albert Francis Judd, a son. In the preface, dated\nMay 1861, Mrs. Judd states that the sketches were \u201cculled and abridged\nfrom a mass of papers\u201d without pretense of writing a history. Under the\ndate of July 1828, the narrative relates a Fourth of July excursion and\nincludes: \u201cThe mountain on the east division is Haleakala (house of the\nsun), and is the largest crater in the world, but is not in action.\u201d[5]\nUnfortunately, the original notes have been lost, and the reference to\nthe mountain by name must have been inserted at a much later date in\npreparing the manuscript for publication. It would be hard to believe\nthat Mrs. Judd could possibly have started the fiction, \u201clargest crater\non earth,\u201d at the early date of 1828. The Judds did not climb the\nmountain during their visit, and Hawaiians were not in a position to\nmake comparisons among craters of the world.\nOn August 21, 1828, Richards, Andrews, and Green made the first recorded\nascent of Haleakala. They could not have known a name for the mountain,\nfor they refer to it only as \u201cthe highest land on Maui\u201d and as \u201can\nextinct volcano.\u201d Not until six years later was their account published.\nThe following quotations relate to their trip:[6] \u201cMr. Richards had for\nyears been particularly desirous of making the tour of this island for\nthe purpose of examining and improving the schools, etc., but having\nbeen alone, it has hitherto been impracticable for him to leave his\nfamily for a sufficient length of time. During the present season this\nobject has been accomplished.\u201d Mr. Richards had arrived in Hawaii in\n1823, and had taken over the mission in Lahaina shortly afterwards at\nthe request of Queen Keopuolani. He had not mentioned the big mountain\nin previous correspondence and reports.\n\u201cHere (at \u2019Kaalimaile,\u2019 perhaps the Haliimaile of today) we tarried\novernight, intending, in the morning, to ascend the mountain, near which\nwe were, and sleep on the highest land on Maui. We were told by the\nnatives, that the way was long, but the ascent very easy. We suppose no\nEnglish travellers had ever ascended this mountain.\n\u201c21. We rose early, and prepared for our ascent. Having procured a\nguide, we set out; taking only a scanty supply of provisions. Half way\nup the mountain, we found plenty of good water, and, at a convenient\nfountain, we filled our calabash for tea. By the sides of our path, we\nfound plenty of ohelos, (a juicy berry, very palatable,) and,\noccasionally, a cluster of strawberries. On the lower part of the\nmountain, there is considerable timber; but as we proceeded, it became\nscarce; and, as we approached the summit, almost the only thing, of the\nvegetable kind, which we saw, was a plant which grew to the height of\nsix or eight feet, and produced a most beautiful flower. It seems to be\npeculiar to this mountain, as our guide and servants made ornaments of\nit for their hats, to demonstrate to those below, that they had been to\nthe top of the mountain.\n\u201cIt was nearly 5 o\u2019clock, when we reached the summit; but we felt\nourselves richly repaid for the toil of the day, by the grandeur and\nbeauty of the scene, which at once opened up to our view. The day was\nvery fine. The clouds, which hung over the mountains on West Maui, and\nwhich were scattered promiscuously, between us and the sea, were far\nbelow us; so that we saw the _upper side_ of them, while the reflection\nof the sun painting their verge with varied tints, made them appear like\nenchantment. We gazed on them with admiration, and longed for the pencil\nof Raphael, to give perpetuity to a prospect, which awakened in our\nbosoms unutterable emotions. On the other side, we beheld the seat of\nPele\u2019s dreadful reign. We stood on the edge of a tremendous crater, down\nwhich, a single misstep would have precipitated us, 1,000 or 1,500 feet.\nThis was once filled with liquid fire, and in it, we counted sixteen\nextinguished craters. To complete the grandeur of the scene, Mouna Kea,\nand Mouna Roa lifted their lofty summits, and convinced us, that, though\nfar above the _clouds_, we were far below the feet of the traveller who\nascends the mountains of Hawaii. By this time, the sun was nearly sunk\nin the Pacific; and we looked around for a shelter during the night. Our\nguide and other attendants we had left far behind; and we reluctantly\nbegan our descent, keeping along on the edge of the crater.\n\u201cAfter descending about a mile, we met the poor fellows, who were\nhobbling along on the sharp lava, as fast as their feet would suffer\nthem. They were glad to stop for the night, though they complained of\nthe _cold_. We kindled a fire, and preparations were made for tea and\nlodgings. The former we obtained with little trouble. We boiled part of\na chicken, roasted a few potatoes, and, gathering round the fire, we\nmade a comfortable meal; but the place of lodging, we obtained with some\ndifficulty. At length, we spread our mats and blankets in a small yard,\nenclosed, probably, by natives, when passing from one side of the island\nto the other. We were within twenty-feet of the precipice, and the wind\nwhistled across the valley, forcibly reminding us of a November evening\nin New England. The thermometer had fallen from 77 to 43* (*The next\nmorning, the thermometer stood at 40.), and we shivered with the cold.\nThe night was long and comfortless.\n\u201c22. Early in the morning, we arose, and reascended the mountain, to its\nsummit, and contemplated the beauties of the rising sun, and gazed a\nwhile longer, on the scenery before us. There seemed to be but two\nplaces, where the lava had found a passage to the sea, and through these\nchannels, it must have rushed with tremendous velocity. Not having an\ninstrument, we were unable to ascertain the height of the mountain. We\npresume it would not fall short of 10,000 feet.* (*This, I believe, is\nthe height at which it has generally been estimated.) The circumference\nof the great crater, we judged to be no less than fifteen miles. We were\nanxious to remain longer, that we might descend into the crater, examine\nthe appearance of things below, and ascend other eminences; but as we\nwere nearly out of provisions, and our work but just commenced, we\nfinished our chicken and tea, and began our descent.\n\u201cNothing remarkable occurred, on our way down....\u201d\nThe United States Exploring Expedition under the command of Lieutenant\nCharles Wilkes, USN, visited Hawaii in 1840 and 1841. On February 15,\n1841, Wilkes dispatched Messrs. Pickering, Drayton, and Breckenridge\nfrom Hilo to explore Maui. They were joined at Lahaina by Rev. Andrews,\nhis son, four students of the seminary, and six _kanakas_ to carry their\nfood. At Wailuku they were joined by Mr. Bailey (see page 40). They\nspent the night at an elevation of 1,692 feet on the sugar plantation of\nLane and Minor, two Bostonians. The story of their ascent, which is the\nsecond recorded, is told by quoting from their report:[7]\n\u201cThe next day, the party set out at an early hour, in hopes of reaching\nthe summit, but it began to rain violently, in consequence of which they\ntook shelter in a large cave, at an altitude of eight thousand and\nninety feet. Here many interesting plants were found, among which were\ntwo species of Pelargonium, one with dark crimson, the other with lilac\nflowers; the Argyroziphium began to disappear as they ascended, and its\nplace was taken up by the silky species, which is only found at high\naltitudes. From the cave to the summit they found shrubby plants,\nconsisting of Epacris, Vaccinium, Edwardsia, Compositae, and various\nrubiaceous plants.\n\u201cOn their arrival at the edge of the crater, on the summit, the clouds\nwere driving with great velocity through it, and completely concealed\nits extent. The height, as ascertained by the barometer, was ten\nthousand two hundred feet. The driving of the sleet before the strong\ngale soon affected the missionaries and native students, the latter of\nwhom for the first time, felt the effects of cold. The limit-line of\nwoods was ascertained to be at six thousand five hundred feet.\n\u201cSome sandalwood bushes were noticed about five hundred feet above the\ncave. Above the cave the ground assumed a more stony appearance, and the\nrock became now and then more visible, which had not before been the\ncase. Where the rock was exposed it was found to be lava more or less\nvesicular, but no regular stream was observed. The surface of the lava\nappeared to be more thickly covered with earth than that of Mauna Kea,\nand consequently a greater proportion of soil existed, as well as a\nthick coating of gravel. Near the summit, bullock-tracks were observed,\nand likewise those of wild dogs, but no other animals were seen except a\nfew goats.\n\u201cThe crater of Haleakala, if so it may be called, is a deep gorge, open\nat the north and east, forming a kind of elbow: the bottom of it, as\nascertained by the barometer, was two thousand seven hundred and\neighty-three feet below the summit peak, and two thousand and\nninety-three feet below the wall. Although its sides are steep, yet a\ndescent is practicable at almost any part of it. The inside of the\ncrater was entirely bare of vegetation, and from its bottom arose some\nlarge hills of scoria and sand: some of the latter are of an ochre-red\ncolour at the summit, with small craters in the centre. All bore the\nappearance of volcanic action, but the natives have no tradition of an\neruption. It was said, however, that in former times the dread goddess\nPele had her habitation here, but was driven out by the sea, and then\ntook up her abode on Hawaii, where she has ever since remained. Can this\nlegend refer to a time when the volcanoes of Maui were in activity?\n\u201cThe gravel that occurred on the top was composed of small angular\npieces of cellular lava, resembling comminuted mineral coal. The rock\nwas of the same character as that seen below, containing irregular\ncavities rather than vesicles. Sometimes grains of chrysolite and\nhorn-blende were disseminated. In some spots the rock was observed to be\ncompact, and had the appearance of argillite or slate: this variety\noccurred here chiefly in blocks, but was also seen in situ. It affords\nthe whetstones of the natives, and marks were seen which they had left\nin procuring them.\n\u201cOf the origin of the name Mauna Haleakala, or the House of the Sun, I\ncould not obtain any information. Some of the residents thought it might\nbe derived from the sun rising from over it to the people of West Maui,\nwhich it does at some seasons of the year.\n\u201cHaving passed the night at the cave, Mr. Baily (_sic_) and young\nAndrews preferred returning to the coast, rather than longer to endure\nthe cold and stormy weather on the mountain.\n\u201cOur gentlemen made excursions to the crater, and descended into it. The\nbreak to the north appears to have been occasioned by the violence of\nvolcanic action within. There does not appear any true lava stream on\nthe north, but there is a cleft or valley which has a steep descent:\nhere the soil was found to be of a spongy nature, and many interesting\nplants were found, among the most remarkable of which was the\narborescent Geranium.\n\u201cThe floor of the crater, in the north branch, is extremely rough and\nabout two miles wide at the apex, which extends to the sea. In the\nravines there is much compact argillaceous rock, similar to what had\nbeen observed on Mauna Kea, retaining, like it, pools of water. The\nrock, in general, was much less absorbent than on the mountains of\nHawaii.\n\u201cMr. Drayton made an accurate drawing or plan of the crater, the\ndistances on which are estimated, but the many cross bearings serve to\nmake its relative proportions correct. Perhaps the best idea that can be\ngiven of the size of this cavity, is by the time requisite to make a\ndescent into it being one hour, although the depth is only two thousand\nfeet. The distance from the middle to either opening was upwards of five\nmiles; that to the eastward was filled with a line of hills of scoria,\nsome of them five or six hundred feet high; under them was lying a lava\nstream, that, to appearance, was nearly horizontal, so gradual was its\nfall. The eastern opening takes a short turn to the southeast, and then\ndescends rapidly to the coast.\n\u201cAt the bottom were found beds of hard gravel, and among it what\nappeared to be carbonate of lime, and detached black crystals like\naugite, but chrysolite was absent.\n\u201cFrom the summit of the mountain the direction of the lava stream could\nbe perceived, appearing, as it approached the sea, to assume more the\nshape of a delta.\n\u201cFrom the summit the whole cleft or crater is seen, and could be traced\nfrom the highest point between the two coasts, flowing both to the\nnorthward and eastward. Volcanic action seems also to have occurred on\nthe southwest side, for a line of scoria hills extends all the way down\nthe mountain, and a lava stream is said to have burst forth about a\ncentury ago, which still retains its freshness. The scoria hills on the\ntop very much resemble those of Mauna Kea, but the mountain itself\nappears wholly unlike either of the two in Hawaii, and sinks into\ninsignificance when compared with them.\n\u201cAlthough I have mentioned lava streams on this mountain, yet they are\nnot to be understood as composed of true lava, as on Mauna Loa; none of\nthe latter were seen except that spoken of on the southwest side, and\nnone other is believed to exist. No pumice or capillary glass was at any\ntime seen, nor are they known to exist on this island. On the wall of\nthe crater, in places, the compass was so much affected by local\nattraction as to become useless.\n\u201cNear the summit is a small cave, where they observed the silkworm eggs\nof Mr. Richards, which were kept here in order to prevent them from\nhatching at an improper season. The thermometer in the cave stood at\n44\u00b0; the temperature at the highest point was 36\u00b0, and in the crater\n71\u00b0. After three days\u2019 stay, the party returned to the establishment of\nMessrs. Lane and Minor, and thence to Wailuku. They were much gratified\nwith their tour.\u201d\nThe name Haleakala can thus be regarded as having been formally\nintroduced by members of the Wilkes Expedition. As the fame of the\nbeauties and wonders of the mountain spread, visitors from all parts of\nthe globe came to make the arduous climb to the summit. Most found\nshelter from the elements in natural caves. Big Flea and Little Flea\ncaves, a quarter of a mile from the summit, are often mentioned in early\naccounts. That their accommodation was not highly relished can be seen\nfrom a description by Damon in 1847: \u201c... which did not hold out many\nattractions, and I have good reasons for believing it already possessed\ntenants that would sharply contend for occupancy with any way-faring and\nluckless wight.\u201d[8] In tales of early visits, literature\u2014especially the\nBible\u2014was gleaned for phraseology that might help portray emotions felt;\nfantastic similes and metaphors were drawn to transmit comprehension of\nthe scene. On a visit in 1853, G. W. Bates mentioned: \u201cFrom the point\nwhere I stood a huge pit, capable of burying three cities as large as\nNew York\u2014opened before me.\u201d[9] True, New York then lacked its present\ncolossal stature, but a milder expression, \u201ccould hold the whole of New\nYork City\u201d still is in use today. For information, the following areas\nare given from _Thrum\u2019s Annual_ and the _World Almanac_: area of\nHaleakala \u201ccrater,\u201d 19.0 sq. mi.; area of Maui, 728 sq. mi.; area of\nManhattan borough, 31.2 sq. mi.; area of New York City, 381 sq. mi.\nDiscomforts, silversword, sandalwood, wild dogs, cattle, goats, the\nweather, and personal impressions form much of the subject matter of\nearly essays.\nThe early residents of Maui recognized the value of the mountain as a\nscenic feature and tourist attraction. Their first move was for better\novernight shelter on the mountain. C. W. Dickey in 1894 raised $850 by\npopular subscription for material with which to build a simple shelter\nat Kalahaku Lookout. H. P. Baldwin and the sugar plantations furnished\nlabor and pack animals. The long trip of 25 miles to the location had to\nbe made on foot or by saddle, and required a full, tiring day; all\nbuilding material except rock had to be transported by pack stock. In\npainfully characteristic manner, many of those for whose benefit the\nsweat and toil were expended proved unworthy since they roughly abused\nthe structure. Windows were broken, timber in the floor and walls was\nripped out and used for firewood, and garbage and filth accumulated. A\ntropical storm added to the damage by unroofing the house; Worth Aiken\nraised $1,500 for its renovation and repair. In 1914-15, the cabin was\nimproved with a concrete floor, metal doors, and metal shutters. Two\nadditional dormitories were added in 1924-25 at a cost of $11,000 and\noperation of the building was turned over to E. J. Walsh, manager of the\nGrand Hotel, Wailuku. Usefulness dropped with the opening of the\nHaleakala Road, so that on September 24, 1934 its custodian, the Maui\nChamber of Commerce, transferred ownership to the National Park Service.\nThe structures were razed in 1957, but plans are underway to replace\nthem with a modern observatory in which people may look at the scene in\nglass-enclosed comfort.\nIn the movement to create a National Park in Hawaii in the early part of\nthe 20th century, the idea developed that it should consist of the\ncraters of Kilauea, Mauna Loa, and Haleakala. The citizens of Maui gave\nfull approval for including their beloved mountain. Hawaii National\nPark, composed of these three sections, was established by Act of\nCongress on August 1, 1916, but formal dedication was delayed until\n1921. Following improvement of Halemauu Trail in 1929, a permanent\nranger position was set up for continuous attention to the area. Today\nit is administered by an assistant superintendent who has a staff of two\nrangers and a naturalist.\nThe building of a road to the summit was fulfillment of a promise to the\npeople of Maui when the park was created. The first step had to be\nconstruction by the Territory of a highway from Pukalani Junction to the\npark boundary near Puu Nianiau. This was completed at a cost of $504,000\nin April 1933 after 39 months of work. As with similar projects\nelsewhere in Hawaii, superstitions of long-ago reappeared. Although not\nantagonistic to progress, Hawaiians raised a cry that all effort was\nfutile; the chicken god, Kalau-heli-moa, would conspire and never permit\nthe project to be completed. Every mishap was attributed to this\nnemesis.\nThe Park Service completed its commitment soon afterwards at the cost of\n$376,000. The road was armor-surfaced in the fall of 1935. Extensive,\nappropriate dedication ceremonies were held for the opening.\nWith the establishment of a Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) camp in\nKilauea, a strip camp of 25 men was set up near Puu Nianiau cinder cone.\nPart of the time, a tent camp was also established within the crater.\nMany improvements became possible through this undertaking. The\nobservatory building on the summit was constructed in 1936; the three\nshelters within the crater, Kapalaoa, Paliku, and Holua, were built a\nyear later. Prior to their completion, overnight shelter was sought in\ncaves, the best known being Bubble Cave (see Numbered Points of\nInterest, topic 15) and Holua Cave which is in the pali wall behind the\ncabin.\nThe CCC camp was abandoned in April 1941, and its structures were turned\nover to the Army that greatly improved them. During the period of its\noccupancy, the Army constructed for radar installation the ugly concrete\nblock house that still protrudes on the summit of Red Hill. With\nevacuation of the military, the CCC quarters were adapted for the\nservice of a concessioner to supply meals and lodging within the park.\nNormal travel to Haleakala was interrupted for a year when the section\nwas closed following the attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941.\nAnnual travel had passed the 25,000 mark in 1939. Travel for the year\n1958 reached a high of 56,940 visitors.\nThe summit of Haleakala attracted early consideration as a site for\nvarious scientific studies. It is a prime target for many scientific\nplanners, because the high mountain is situated in the middle of a broad\nocean, yet the summit is readily accessible by road. Often this\neagerness has obscured possible use of other suitable sites and has\nclashed with the basic purpose of the area as a National Park. The\nNational Park Service strives to keep the scene as primitive as\npossible, assiduously blending buildings and structures into the\nlandscape, whereas the non-conformist gives no thought to this but\nfollows the easiest way. Too often economy of construction and\noperation, together with careless housekeeping, invert an attraction to\na repulsion which even the splendor of the scene cannot offset. Skyline\nbuildings, obtrusively strung wires, thoughtlessly gouged land, and\nabandoned debris are not conducive to aesthetic experience, whatever\ntheir purpose or whoever the offender.\n    [Illustration: Haleakala holiday.]\nThe earliest scientific study associated with the mountain concerned\nweather. It is said that the Hawaiian Islands are situated near a\ncritical area in the Pacific which is a birthplace of weather. The\nsummit offers an ideal place for detection and observance of the\nformation of high clouds. Much additional research is needed to provide\na steady flow of data for successful and safe operation of air\ntransportation. Many crashes have been blamed on lack of weather data.\nThe task is not always simple, as statistical readings may be confusing.\nThose made on Red Hill, for example, are influenced by local circulation\nset up by the heating of several square miles of black, barren lava and\ncinders.\nThe Federal Aeronautics Administration maintains a station a mile beyond\nRed Hill. In the earlier fifties cosmic radiation was studied with a\nhuge revolving truss located back of Red Hill. The military has set up\napparatus and teams from time to time for experiments with radio, radar,\nand radiation. Finally, for the International Geophysical Year,\nHaleakala summit was chosen for one of the important satellite tracking\nstations supervised by the Smithsonian Institution of Washington.\n500 A. D., ca.\u2014Hawaii discovered by Hawaii-loa, Polynesian\n      fisherman-navigator who, tradition says, came from Kahiki\n      (Tahiti?), an island to the south. He made several round trips,\n      bringing with him a large company of retainers.\n1100 ca.\u2014After a wave of navigation, intercourse with Tahiti ended.\n1300 ca.\u2014According to an ancient chant, _mele_, Kalaunuiohua, _moi_ of\n      Hawaii, conquered Maui. _Moi_, in 19th century Hawaiian, signifies\n      the supreme ruler or head chief, now usually termed _king_.\n1500\u2014Piilani, king of Maui. He was succeeded by Lonoapii who in turn was\n      overthrown by his brother Kihapiilani and his brother-in-law, King\n      Umi of the Big Island. Bloody battles stretched from Kauiki to the\n      sands of Waihee.\n1555\u2014Possible discovery of Hawaii by Juan Gaetano, Spanish navigator. He\n      prepared a manuscript chart now in the Spanish archives which\n      contains a group of islands in the latitude of Hawaii but whose\n      longitude is 10 degrees too far to the east. What corresponds to\n      Maui is called _La Desgradiada_, the unfortunate. The largest,\n      most southerly island, which should be the present Hawaii is\n      labelled _La Mesa_, the table. Three other islands, appearing to\n      be Kahoolawe, Lanai, and Molokai, are called _Los Monjes_, the\n      monks.\n1736\u2014King Kekaulike died and was succeeded by Kamehamehanui.\n1737\u2014Alapainui, _moi_ of Hawaii, invaded Maui via Kaupo. He took with\n      him two young princely half-brothers, Kalaniopuu and Keoua. Keoua\n      was father of Kamehameha I. Since Alapainui found his adversary,\n      Kekaulike, dead, he made peace with the nephew, Kamehamehanui. The\n      two joined forces to repel the invader, Kapiiohokalani of Oahu, in\n      bloody, obstinate battles that ended in the rout of the Oahu army\n      at Kawela, Molokai.\n1738\u2014At Keawawa, West Maui, Alapanainui and Kamehamehanui decisively\n      defeated Kauhi, the latter\u2019s brother and usurper of power.\n1750 ca.\u2014The calculated date of the most recent activity of Haleakala,\n      the Keoneoio flow above La Perouse Bay. The flow originated at\n      Kaluaolapa at an elevation of 575 feet, and from vents one mile\n      further northeast at an elevation of 1,550 feet. The method of\n      dating is interesting. In 1841, Rev. Edward Bailey of Wailuku\n      inquired about the eruption and was informed by Hawaiians that it\n      happened at the time of their grandfathers. In 1906, Lorrin A.\n      Thurston was told by a Chinese-Hawaiian cowboy, Charles Ako, that\n      his father-in-law\u2019s grandfather at the time of the event was just\n      old enough to carry \u201ctwo\u201d coconuts 4 or 5 miles from the sea to\n      the upper road at an elevation of 2,000 feet. Since Hawaiians\n      counted coconuts by fours, \u201ctwo\u201d probably refers to a total of\n      eight nuts. Mr. Bailey was told that a woman and child were\n      trapped by the flow but escaped after it cooled. By 1922, 80 years\n      later, this tale had grown into a neo-myth about a husband and\n      wife with their two children. The mother and her young daughter\n      fled _mauka_, but were seized by Pele, and turned into the two\n      lava columns that stand beside the vent at Kaluaolapa. The father\n      and son, plunged into the sea and started swimming toward\n      Kahoolawe. Pele cast rocks after them and turned the two to stone.\n      The two rocks, a big and a little one, can be seen today rising\n      out of the sea several hundred feet out from shore as proof of the\n      tale. Mr. Thurston\u2019s estimate of the date of the eruption is 1750\n      while J. F. G. Stokes, Hawaiian ethnologist, favors a later date,\n      possibly 1770.\n1754\u2014Kalaniopuu, warlike king of Hawaii, captured the fortress Kauiki\n      and held it successfully for more than 20 years.\n1765\u2014Kamehamehanui died and was succeeded by his brother, Kahekili.\n1768\u2014Queen Kaahumanu was born at Kauiki. She became the favorite wife of\n      Kamehameha I.\n1775\u2014Kalaniopuu was defeated by Kahekili at Kaupo.\n1776\u2014Kalaniopuu invaded Maui at Maalaea; his army was annihilated on the\n      sand hills near Wailuku.\n1777\u2014Kalaniopuu took Lanai but again was repelled when he tried to\n      invade Maui.\n1778, November 26\u2014Captain James Cook, Royal British Navy, discovered\n1781\u2014Kahekili reconquered East Maui. He recaptured the fort at Kauiki by\n      cutting off the water supply. To show contempt, he baked the\n      bodies of the defenders in earth ovens.\n1786\u2014Kamehameha I sent an expedition to recapture East Maui. It was\n      defeated at Kipahulu by Kalanikapule, the son of King Kahekili.\n1786, May 28\u2014La Perouse visited Maui and camped on Keoneoio lava flow.\n1790\u2014Olowalu massacre. The snow, _Eleanor_, under Captain Simon Metcalf,\n      treacherously opened fire on native boats following a truce made\n      after one white sailor had been murdered. More than a hundred\n      natives were slaughtered.\n1790\u2014Conquest of Maui by Kamehameha I after landing at Hana. He\n      decisively defeated Kalanikapule, in the Battle of Iao Valley or\n      Kepaniwai.\n1793\u2014Vancouver visited Maui on his second expedition. He tried to bring\n      about an end to the wars and to establish a lasting peace between\n      Maui and Hawaii.\n1795\u2014Maui was subdued by Kamehameha I without a battle.\n1819\u2014Kamehameha I, king of all Hawaii, died. Abolition of the _kapu_\n      system by Kamehameha II, incited by his guardian, Queen Kaahumanu.\n1823\u2014The Christian mission at Lahaina was founded by Rev. William\n      Richards and A. S. Stewart. On September 16, Queen Keopuolani, a\n      wife of Kamehameha I and a devout Christian, died at Lahaina. She\n      was buried with services by Rev. William Ellis.\n1824\u2014At Lahaina, Queen Regent Kaahumanu orally proclaimed a law\n      forbidding desecration of the Sabbath, fighting, murder, and\n      theft.\n1825\u2014The English frigate _The Blonde_ anchored off Lahaina with the\n      bodies of King Liholiho (Kamehameha II) and his queen, Kamamalu.\n      They had died from measles while on a visit to London.\n1825\u2014The crew from the Whaler _Daniel_ attempted to demolish the home of\n      Rev. Richards, Lahaina.\n    [Illustration: Sliding Sands Trail.]\n1826\u2014Mosquitoes from Mexico were introduced at Lahaina by the SS\n      _Wellington_.\n1827\u2014The Whaler _John Palmer_ fired on the home of Rev. Richards.\n1829\u2014Ascent of Haleakala by a missionary party.\n1834\u2014First Hawaiian newspaper _Lama Hawaii_ was published at Lahainaluna\n      Mission School.\n1839\u2014An Hawaiian \u201cBill of Rights\u201d was signed at Lahaina by Kamehameha\n      III. It afforded protection to all people and their property while\n      they conformed to the laws of the kingdom.\n1841\u2014Haleakala Crater was visited by Pickering and Breckenridge of the\n      United States Exploring Expedition under Captain John Wilkes, U.\n1841-1849\u2014Peak of whaling industry in Hawaii. Lahaina was visited by 596\n      Whalers in 1846.\n1850\u2014David Malo, Hawaiian antiquarian and teacher at Lahainaluna School,\n      Lahaina, conducted Rev. William P. Alexander and Curtis Lyons from\n      Kaupo through Haleakala Crater, to Makawao, \u201ca trip never before\n      undertaken by white men.\u201d\n1876\u2014S. F. Alexander and H. P. Baldwin started construction of the\n      Hamakua Ditch, first big irrigation project in Hawaii.\n1890\u2014First pineapples were planted at Haiku.\n1893\u2014Overthrow of the monarchy and establishment of the Republic of\n      Hawaii. Queen Liliuokalani was the last reigning sovereign.\n1898, August 12\u2014Hawaii was annexed to United States by joint legislation\n      of Congress. President Dole was appointed first governor.\n1916\u2014Hawaii National Park was established by Act of Congress on August 1\n      with Haleakala Crater forming the Section on Maui.\n1921\u2014Hawaii National Park was formally opened.\n1929, November 11\u2014Establishment of commercial air service between the\n      islands.\n1930\u2014First permanent park position (ranger) was established to give\n      continuous service at Haleakala.\n1931\u2014First permanent park naturalist was appointed for Hawaii National\n      Park, although temporary, summer interpretive services were\n      started in the late twenties by the employment of Otto Degener,\n      formerly botanist at the University of Hawaii. Dr. Degener,\n      presently writing Book 6 of his \u201c_Flora Hawaiiensis_,\u201d kindly\n      supplied many of the scientific plant names for this guide.\n1935 February 23\u2014Dedication ceremonies of Haleakala Road in Hawaii\n      National Park.\n1937\u2014Kapalaoa, Paliku, and Holua cabins were constructed.\n1941\u2014Haleakala closed to travel for military reasons.\n1952-3\u2014Present exhibits were installed in Summit Observation Station.\n1958\u2014Permanent naturalist position established for Haleakala.\n1959\u2014Hawaii becomes the 50th state in the Union.\n                   THE ORIGIN OF THE SCENIC FEATURES\n_The Island of Maui_ was built by two volcanoes. That forming West Maui\nis deeply dissected into several high peaks. The old summit crater now\nis encompassed by the head of Iao Valley. Mt. Kukui, the highest point,\nhas an elevation of 5,788 feet.\nEast Maui is built of three series of lava products from Haleakala\nVolcano whose flows extended westward across the present isthmus to come\nto rest against the base of West Maui Volcano. These represent three\ngreat periods of activity, the latter two being separated by a long\ninterval of quiescence that was characterized by intense erosion and\nmild, if any, eruptions. Geologists designate these three periods by the\nnames Honomanu, Kula, and Hana. The mountain was built over three rifts,\nnortherly, easterly, and southwesterly, each extending about fifteen\nmiles.\nIn earliest (Honomanu) time, about the beginning of the Ice Ages, a\nsymmetrical shield like Mauna Loa was built of pahoehoe and aa basalts\n8,500 feet above present sea-level. During the next (Kula) cycle,\neruptions were more explosive in nature; flows were composed of more\nviscous andesite between which layers of ash and soil accumulated. Big\ncinder cones and extensive ash beds were formed at this time. Like Mauna\nKea today, the Honomanu dome was capped by a craterless mound of\ncinders, 2,500 feet high, that was studded with many lesser cones. The\nsummit was a mile east of the present top on Red Hill and a thousand\nfeet higher than it is today.\nAs Kula eruptions declined and grew less frequent, running water cut\ndeeply into the sides of the mountain and excavated four great valleys,\nKeanae, Kaupo, Kipahulu, and Waihoi, that had broad heads, thousands of\nfeet deep. Numerous lesser valleys were later to be buried more or less\nby lava flows. Most of the eastern summit ridge was worn away; Kaupo and\nKeanae Valleys met near the summit and fused into a great depression\nlike that near the head of Iao Valley today. At one time, a great flow\nof mud, probably triggered by an earthquake, swept all before it as it\nmoved down Kaupo Valley into the sea. Its remnants today are 350 feet\ndeep at Puu Maneoneo near the coastal road. A similar mass movement of\nrock on soft mud was started by an earthquake on April 2, 1868 at Wood\nValley, west of the Kilauea Section of Hawaii National Park; the flow,\nin its precipitous descent, buried a village with 31 people and more\nthan 500 head of stock.\nIn recent times, volcanism again quickened at Haleakala, giving the\nthird (Hana) series of volcanics. This veneered the east and west slopes\nof the volcano, covered the floor of the depression, and pushed great\nlava flows through Koolau and Kaupo Gaps to the sea. Large flows and\ncones mask the divide that delimited the two great valleys. During Hana\ntime, the northern rift alone remained inactive. The most recent\nactivity, dated by Hawaiian legend as 1750, is represented by two bare,\nblack flows above La Perouse Bay, the southwest corner of the island.\n    [Illustration: The Recent Cinder Cones.]\nHaleakala Crater, 7 miles long and 2\u00bd miles wide, is locally proclaimed\nthe largest extinct crater on earth, but the claim like the name is\ninaccurate. Nevertheless, it possesses a most unusual geological origin\nand beauty that give it a worthy place among the National Parks.\n    [Illustration: HAWAII NATIONAL PARK\n    HALEAKALA SECTION]\n  1. PARK ENTRANCE; SILVERSWORD INN\n  2. HOSMER GROVE CAMPGROUND AND PICNIC AREA\n  3. ADMINISTRATION BUILDING, HAWAII NATIONAL PARK, HALEAKALA SECTION\n  4. KALAHAKU OVERLOOK; SILVERSWORD PLANTS\n  5. OBSERVATORY\n  6. WHITE HILL, START OF SLIDING SANDS TRAIL\n  7. RED HILL; SUMMIT OF HALEAKALA\n  8. SKYLINE DRIVE\n  9. START OF HALEMAUU TRAIL\n  10. HOLUA CABIN\n  11. SILVERSWORD LOOP\n  12. ANCIENT HAWAIIAN TRAIL\n  13. BOTTOMLESS PIT\n  14. KA MOA O PELE TRAIL\n  15. BUBBLE CAVE\n  16. WAIKAU CABIN\n  17. VOLCANIC DIKES; ANCIENT DIVIDE BETWEEN KOOLAU AND KAUPO RIVER\n          VALLEYS\n  18. LAUULU TRAIL\n  19. PALIKU CABIN\n  20. KIPAHULU VALLEY\n  21. KAUPO TRAIL\n  KIPAHULU FOREST RESERVE\n  KOOLAU FOREST RESERVE\n  HALEAKALA RANCH\n                     THE GEOLOGICAL INTERPRETATION\nThe summit depression of Haleakala stimulates speculation, and competent\ngeologists have come up with widely differing hypotheses regarding its\norigin. In the account of their visit (see The Historical Background, p.\n29), the first foreign visitors naturally used the term \u201ccrater,\u201d which\nhas been in vogue ever since. Pickering and Drayton of the Wilkes\nExpedition remark, \u201cThe crater of Haleakala, if so it may be called, is\na deep gorge.\u201d[10]\nDrayton\u2019s sketch was the first published map of the crater. James Dana,\nthe great geologist with the Expedition, sailed past the mountain and\nlater wrote a physiographic description based on notes made by Pickering\nand Drayton. In the official report, he expressed the idea, suggested by\nthe crude map, that the mountain has been ripped apart by mighty\nconvulsions that attended the most recent activity, so that the\nnortheastern (Hana) part was separated along a zigzag crack from the\nrest of the mountain by the width of Keanae and Kaupo Valleys.[11]\nDuring the great eruptions that attended the rending, lava covered the\nfloor and poured in great floods through Koolau and Kaupo Gaps.\nW. D. Alexander, who surveyed the crater in 1869, believed: \u201c... this is\na real terminal crater, and not merely \u2018a deep gorge open at the north\nand east\u2019 or a caldera. I have indeed heard the theory proposed that the\nmountain is but a wreck of a complete dome with a small terminal crater,\nthe whole top of which has fallen in and been carried away, as is\nsupposed to have been the case with some of the volcanoes of Java, and\nthe caldera of Palma.\u201d[12]\nC. E. Dutton, volcanologist of the United States Geological Survey,\nobjected to Dana\u2019s explanation and wrote that the depression is\n\u201cstrictly homologous\u201d to Kilauea Crater, that is, a collapsed\ncaldera.[13] He assumed that this had been tapped by the upper ends of\nKeanae and Kaupo drainages. In 1887, Dana had opportunity to make a\nquick trip through the crater and down Kaupo Valley, so that he tempered\nhis earlier opinion and decided that Keanae and Kaupo valleys might be\ngraben.[14] Reginald Daly of Harvard rejected the hypothesis that the\ndepression was like Kilauea Crater, since arcuate faults so prominent at\nKilauea are apparently absent at Haleakala.[15] In his paper on\npetrography, Whitman Cross stated, \u201cWhat is commonly called the crater\nof Haleakala appears to me to be, in some part at least, a result of\nerosion.\u201d[16] At about the same time, Sidney Powers stated his belief\nthat Kipahulu and Waihoi Valleys are graben, but he based his opinion on\n\u201cauthentic reports\u201d and does not claim that he saw the valleys.[17]\n    [Illustration: Ahinahina (silversword).]\nH. T. Stearns analyzed carefully all the supporting evidence and\nobjections to the various viewpoints.[18] Of all of his profession, he\nmade the most thorough field surveys, with the conclusion that the\n\u201ccrater\u201d is chiefly erosional, affected by the recession of two great\namphitheater-headed valleys, instead of by collapse, sliding away of the\nside of a cone, or explosion. Small craters may have existed at the\ntime, but not a large one resembling the present depression. He believed\nthat the big size results from the fact that the heads were offset and\nnot in a straight line. The shape of the depression is what would result\nupon the fusion of two amphitheater heads similar to those of Waikoi,\nKipahulu, and Manawainui valleys of today. Each of these is a typical\nHawaiian valley, narrow at the base, but with a broad amphitheater at\nthe head. Kipahulu is separated from Waihoi and from Kaupo Valleys by\nnarrow divides. It can be assumed that a similar divide once separated\nthe amphitheaters at the heads of the early Kaupo and Keanae drainages.\nStearns further believes that once the rift zone was reached, stream\nerosion was greatly accelerated because of the loosely knit structure,\nthe presence of many weak cinder cones, and the dike complex. This\ncomplex, as in other places in Hawaii, must have yielded perennial\nspring water to accelerate erosion. His summary is as follows:\n\u201cNo stratigraphic or constructural evidence was found to support the\nhypothesis that Haleakala Crater is a true caldera, that it was formed\nby renting, or that Keanae and Kaupo valleys tapping this depression are\ngrabens. Instead, detailed mapping and the examination of water tunnels\nshow that Haleakala dome has been eroded by a number of great valleys.\nThe hypothesis is presented that the so-called \u201ccrater\u201d of Haleakala is\nchiefly, if not entirely, the result of the coalescence of the\namphitheater heads of Kaupo and Keanae valleys and that renewed volcanic\nactivity has partly masked their former divide and partly filled these\nvalleys with lava flows.\u201d\nHaleakala rises above the belt of warm trade winds into the cold, dry\nclimate of the Alpine Zone. Temperatures at night may drop below\nfreezing even in the warmer part of the year; the growing season is\nshort and life is severe. The sparse plants that can live here crouch\nclosely to the ground, diffusing or forming compact rosettes. All they\nhave in which to grow are porous rocks and loose cinders that cannot\nhold moisture, lack organic matter, and do not yield a firm base for\nrooting. Species extending to lower elevations are here depauperate from\nwind and cold, although elsewhere they may attain a sturdy stature, even\ntree-size. Few seedlings are seen; individuals whose life span has\nfinished remain conspicuous in death. Neither trees nor mats of shrubs\nare seen, but mosses and lichens find this Alpine desert to their\nliking. Oddly enough, one looks in vain for brilliant blossoms, such as\none has come to expect in the high Sierra and the Rockies. The summit is\na biological island on an oceanic island which, geological evidence\nindicates, never was part of a continent. The Hawaiian Chain was never\nnear land of appreciable height and size.\nHow the Alpine plants came to Hawaii is uncertain since they have\ndescended from ancestors so remote that past relationships are vague.\nThe great Swedish botanist, Carl Skottsberg, believes that they are\nderived from a flora that grew on summits higher than any that exist\ntoday. Such assumption adds to the problem, as little else leads one to\nbelieve that elevations ever significantly exceeded 14,000 feet, i.e.,\nthe highest that exist today. In a report for the Fifth International\nBotanical Congress (Proceedings, pp. 91-97, Cambridge, 1931), Skottsberg\nlisted 13 species found exclusively in the Alpine Zone, all of which are\nendemic, native to no other place than Hawaii\u2019s highest volcanoes. Three\nother species listed as occurring in the Alpine Zone extend their range\ndownward into the next lower Subalpine Zone, for which he has listed a\ntotal of 23 species, 20 of which he labels endemic. These adjoining\nzones are not sharply delimited, but blend into each other at 9,000\nfeet.\nAs elevation decreases and conditions for growth become better, the\nnumber of plant species increases. The Subalpine Zone with lower limits\njust above the park entrance has some of the most interesting plants\nfound in the islands. Trees are absent but some of its shrubs extend\ntheir range to lower elevations and grow big, sometimes even to\ntree-size. Most Subalpine plants have small leaves or leaflets,\nindicating that lasting moisture is still scant. Occasional snowfall\nseldom remains long and never piles into drifts, which would conserve\nmoisture.\nMost of the interior of the crater is bare or thinly covered with\nvegetation. The uncongenial climate of the summit spills into it and\nextends throughout its length, though the elevation is much lower.\nExtensive aa flows, ash, and cinder cones cover the floor. Yet the\ncrater has perhaps become best known through the presence of one of its\nplants, the silversword. Also, the lips of Koolau and Kaupo Gaps are\nbotanically distinctive in contrast to the barreness elsewhere. This\nresults from the fog and rain that sweep through them in late morning,\nonly to dissolve upon mixing with the warmer air inside. As the day\nprogresses, clouds push further and further inward, until, rarely, the\nwhole depression may become filled. Koolau especially is a\ntreasure-trove for the plant-lover. Below 6,000 feet, quite outside the\npark, it becomes impenetrable jungle surpassed only by that in Kipahulu\nValley, a few miles east. Kaupo Cap is comparatively dry, but it\nsupports a sparse scrub cover of great interest. The lower parts of\nKaupo Valley are grazing land. Paliku is the only place within the park\nin which vegetation is lush. As it climbs Leleiwi Pali, Halemauu Trail\nis bordered by OHELO and ferns, among them AMAUMAU which is pleasing to\nthe weary hiker\u2019s eye.\nIn the northwestern angle of the park not far from the inn, Nianiau\nCrater has had a renowned floral character and history. Today it is\novergrazed and drab. Dr. Joseph Rock, Hawaii\u2019s famed dendrologist,\ndiscovered a curious tree _lobelia_, _Clermontia haleakalensis_, growing\nwithin it. He happily described the plant as \u201cantediluvian in\nappearance.\u201d This most primitive member of a distinctive Hawaiian floral\ngroup had a robust trunk from which clumsy, stubby branches shot off,\neach crowned with a feather-duster of long, thick, strap-shaped leaves\nlike some pompous dictator\u2019s headdress. MAMANE and AKALA grew thickly\naround it; rarer associates included tree geraniums, _Neurophyllodes\nsp._, with flowers like violets, tree _Railliardia_, shrubby Hawaiian\nbuttercups, and greensword, _Argyroxiphium virescens_, that is\nthreatened with extermination by grazing to an extent greater than of\nits relative, the silversword.\n    [Illustration: BISHOP MUSEUM, J. F. ROCK COLLECTION\n    Clermontia Haleakalensis.]\nEven though they are outside the park, some plant communities on the\nouter slopes of the mountain should be mentioned, because they are\nrelated to park forms and carry a compelling interest. The trail from\nOlinda to Waikamoi is through a transition forest between the wet and\nthe dry that once drew botanists from many parts of the globe. It is now\novergrown with foreign weeds, so that native shrubs survive only here\nand there. The mountain forests above Olinda have all been destroyed and\nare replaced by plants from faraway lands.\nAlthough it now lies devastated by change, one of the richest botanical\nregions in Hawaii comprises the forbidding lava fields of Auwahi on the\nsouthwest slope of Haleakala. Fifty species of native trees once thrived\nin its fabulous mixed forests. The only known specimen of Maui\nhibiscadelphus, _H. wilderianus_, a relative of the hibiscus, was found\nhere. It had a curved corolla that opened only slightly at the top. Its\ncongener, _H. giffardianus_, once equally rare, still survives in Kipuka\nPuaulu at Kilauea, where a few vigorous plants, started by air-layering,\nreceive tender care from the National Park. The last known Maui specimen\nof MAHOE, _Alectryon macrococcus_, grows in an Auwahi gulch. This tree\nhas large double fruits (_mahoe_ means _twins_) that split open to\nexpose a shiny, chestnut-brown seed clasped in a brilliant scarlet aril.\nThe ALANI, _Pelea multiflora_, of the lava fields is festooned with a\nlichen, _Usnea australis_, that appears to prefer it to all other trees.\nHaleakala sandalwood, _Santalum haleakalae_, with attractive red flowers\ngrows to be a tree 25 feet tall. Other famous native trees include\n\u2019OHE\u2019OHE, _Tetraplasandra kauaiensis_; \u2019OHE, _Tetraplasandra meiandra_;\nA\u2019E, _Fagara_ sp.; \u2019ALA\u2019A, _Planchonella auahiensis_, with golden\nfruits; HO\u2019AWA, _Pittosporum terminalioides_; OLOPUA, _Nestegis\nsandwicensis_; A\u2019IA\u2019I, _Pseudomorus sandwicensis_; MEHANE, _Antidesma\npulvinatum_; and KAUILA, _Alphitonia ponderosa_, whose hard and durable\ntimber was used in sacred structures.\nMany unusual plants occur in the steep valleys to the north and east\noutside the park. Since the dense jungles in which they grow are\ninaccessible except to hardiest botanists, they are seldom seen. Here\ngrow \u2019APE\u2019APE, _Gunnera petaloidea_, a plant with geranium-like leaves\nthree or more feet in diameter; a delicate, rare, native begonia,\n_Hillebrandia sandwicensis_; several exquisitely flowering lobelias. The\nsummit bogs on Kukui and Mt. Eke in West Maui have a curious,\ndistinctive flora that includes three species with origins ascribed to\nthe Antarctic: _Orebolus furcatus_, a sedge; _Acaena exigua_ of the Rose\nFamily; and _Lagenophora mauiensis_, a composite.\n    [Illustration: BISHOP MUSEUM, J. F. ROCK COLLECTION\n    Tetromalopium.]\n    [Illustration: BISHOP MUSEUM, J. F. ROCK COLLECTION\n    Begonia.]\nThe Haleakala road is the easiest way to reach elevations above 7,000\nfeet in Hawaii. The lower mountain slopes up which it winds were once\nclothed with fern jungles that yielded with altitude to dry forest. All\nis now altered. Extensive grasslands and eucalyptus groves today leave\nthe lasting impression on the visitor. Even on the heights, cattle,\ngoats, introduced plants, insects, and other agents have wrought\npermanent change. Rare and interesting forms of native life have been\nexterminated or are well on the way to extinction. The National Park is\ntrying hard to save what is left of the native cover within its\nboundaries and to restore the former scene wherever it is possible to do\nso.\n    [Illustration: BISHOP MUSEUM, J. F. ROCK COLLECTION\n    \u2019Ape\u2019ape.]\nPlants of the distinctive Haleakala environment show differences, some\nslight, some considerable, from close relatives elsewhere. Examples are\nthe OLAPA at Paliku, the silversword, and the KUPAOA. The differences\nhave been fashioned by combinations of factors. The unstable, permeable\nash and cinders have scant soil and little available mineral matter.\nThey cannot hold water nor do they yield secure anchorage. The effects\nof winds, isolation, exposure, and nature of terrain are reflected by\nthe distorted shapes. Silversword, _Artemisia_, _Bidens_, and many other\nplants well show adaptation to peculiar environment. Why are some\nspecies found nowhere else? How did the plants get here in the first\nplace and how have they changed with the passing of time? What has been\nthe impact of exotics? What use did the Hawaiians make of the plants? To\nthe hurried and casual visitor, the flora of Haleakala may appear drab\nand uninteresting. With better acquaintance, it becomes a stimulating\nstudy indeed.\nTHE FERNS. The Sliding Sands Trail drops from White Hill on bare slopes\nof red and gray Cinders. As it levels below Puu o Pele, a lush, green\ncarpet spreads along the south wall of the crater. It is a surprise to\ndiscover that ferns compose the verdure, for several kinds find the\nshelter of the cliffs agreeable. Haleakala\u2019s KA\u2019UPU, _Polystichum\nhaleakalense_ Brack., a rather coarse, low plant with scaly stems, grows\namong the shrubs. The pellucid polypody, \u2019AE, _Polypodium pellucidum_\nKaulf., and the maidenhair spleenwort, \u2019IWA\u2019IWA, _Asplenium\nadiantum-nigrum_ L., grow here, but they are common elsewhere as well.\nIwaiwa is a small plant with shiny, slender stems and stiff, triangular\nfronds that thrives in the brush. On Leleiwi Pali it is a tiny thing,\nclinging to the rocks. This fern is known in mountainous regions in many\ncountries. Another maidenhair spleenwort, \u2019OWALI\u2019I, _Asplenium\ntrichomanes_ L., makes its home on barren lava above 5,000 feet on the\ninner slopes of the crater. Its small, opposite, rounded or ovate frond\nsegments, _pinnae_, grow on wiry stems that form dense clumps. Look for\nit along Halemauu Trail on Leleiwi Pali. It is found in the temperate\nzones and on high mountains in many parts of the world.\nBracken, KILAU, _Pteridium aquilinum_ var. _decompositum_ (Gaud.) Tryon,\na stiff cosmopolitan, is among the best-known ferns. It grows in grassy\nspots inside and outside the crater. Foraging pigs, seeking its tasty\nrootstocks, often uproot it in the forests. The young leaves of\nAMA\u2019UMA\u2019U, _Sadleria cyatheoides_ Kaulf., add a touch of red along\nHalemauu Trail on Leleiwi Pali. At Paliku, several moisture-loving ferns\ngrow on logs, rocks, and moss-covered trees. Large, dense ae are quite\nunlike the frail specimens on Leleiwi Pali. The following can be seen in\ndamp spots and on tree trunks: Maui\u2019s paddle, \u2019EKAHA, _Elaphoglossum\nreticulatum_ (Kaulf.) Gaud., with paddle-shaped blades 6-12 inches long;\n\u2019EKAHA-\u2019AKOLEA, _Pleopeltis thunbergiana_ Kaulf., a small fern with\ntough, pale, elliptico-oblong (paddle-shaped) fronds; and MOA, _Psilotum\ncomplanatum_ Sw., belonging to a small group of tropical plants,\nPSILOTALES, which reproduce by spores, but are distinct from true ferns,\nclubmosses, and the better-known orders.\nSwordfern, NI\u2019ANI\u2019AU or \u2019OKUPUKUPU, _Nephrolepis exaltata_ (L.) Schott.,\nis widely distributed at Haleakala as it is elsewhere in Hawaii.\nCliffbrake, KALAMOHO LAULI\u2019I, _Pellaea ternifolia_ (Cav.) Link, grows\namong rocks in dry, sunny locations at higher elevations above the park\nentrance and inside the crater. It is common. The bluish-green pinnae of\nthis short, slender fern grow on opposite sides of the dark, wiry stems.\nThey are cleft into three linear segments.\nTHE NATIVE GRASSES. Several native grasses grow above the park entrance:\n_Trisetum glomeratum_ (Kunth) Trin., _Deschampsia australis_ forma\n_haleakalensis_ Skottsb., and _Agrostis sandwicensis_ Hillebr. The\n_Trisetum_, also common inside the crater, is called mountain pili, PILI\nbeing the lowland grass known in many tropical regions and used for\nthatching houses in Hawaii. The Hawaiian name for _T. glomeratum_ is\nPILIUKA, upland pili. In some places it is also called HE\u2019U PUEO, the\nhoot of an owl.\nAll three grasses are tufted, i.e., bunch grasses. The _Deschampsia_ has\ntough, wiry blades (leaves) with shiny, open panicles of flowers and\nseeds. The _Agrostis_ has stiffly upright blades and culms (jointed\nstems) with spike-like panicles. The pili has flat blades usually\ncovered with soft hairs. The panicles are contracted or spike-like.\nTHE SEDGES. Fig. 1. Sedges are generally grasslike wind-pollinated herbs\nthat grow in tufts or bunches. They are often the dominant plants in\ncold marshes, especially in the Arctic. They have little economic value\nand grazing animals find them unpalatable. Some have tough, pliable\nstems that are woven into mats and baskets; some have fruiting spikes\nthat are attractive in dry bouquets. Most have 3-angled stems around\nwhich the blades are ranked. The inconspicuous, green flowers are\ncrowded in tight, flattened spikes, often grouped on top of a slender,\ngrasslike stem. Hawaii has a dozen or more native genera with many of\nits species widespread in the world.\nThe species common on the upper slopes of Haleakala and on the crater\nfloor, _Gahnia gaudichaudii_ Steud., bears shiny, ebony fruits. These\ncan dangle, suspended by the wilted, threadlike stamens for more than a\nyear from the fruiting stalk. Another sedge, _Carex macloviana subfusca_\n(W. Boott) Kukenth., grows in clumps along the south wall. The fruiting\nstalks bear cylindrical or ovoid clusters of 4-9 spikelets, each \u00bd-1\ninch long. This sedge grows from Lapland and Greenland to northern South\nAmerica, but in Hawaii it has been found only on Haleakala and Kohala\nMountains above 4,000 feet. The Hawaiian variety was first described\nfrom a specimen collected at Lake Tahoe, California. The interesting\n_Oreobolus furcatus_ H. Mann, mentioned as occurring on West Maui, also\ngrows in Koolau Gap.\nRUSH, _Luzula hawaiiensis_ (O. Ktze.) Buch. A visitor brought me a small\ntufted plant with grass-like leaves covered with soft, silky hairs. He\nwas all excited, believing he had found a young silversword on the\ncinder flats near the summit of Mt. Hualalai. The plant was the endemic\nrush that lives in wet places above 3,000 feet in the mountains of Maui,\nHawaii, and Kauai. In Haleakala Crater, I found it on Leleiwi Pali and\nnear Paliku, where others might mistake it for an immature silversword\nor greensword. The Hawaiian general name for grasses, sedges, and rushes\nis MAU\u2019U.\nPAINIU, _Astelia degeneri_ Skottsb. This plant is reported by Degener to\nbe growing within the crater.[19]\nMAU\u2019U-LA\u2019ILI, _Sisyrinchium acre_ H. Mann. A native member of the Iris\nFamily with grass-like leaves that grows on old lava flows between\naltitudes of 3,500 and 7,500 feet on Maui and Hawaii. It is an\nattractive plant that rarely exceeds 12 inches high. In July and August\nit bears yellow flowers \u00be inch across that last only a few hours. In the\ncrater it may be found in Koolau and Kaupo Gaps. The leaves, bound\ntightly around the wrists and ankles, stain the skin a blue color that\nlasts several days. This stain was regarded as proof that a person had\nbeen to the crater. A number of other species of the genus are mainland\nwildflowers commonly called blue-eyed grass.\nORCHIDS. Fig. 2. The Orchid Family of over 15,000 species is second only\nto the Composite Family in size, yet only three species of three genera\nare native in Hawaii, a land connected in thought with an exuberance of\ngay orchids. Moreover, the three endemic species are characterized by\nsmall size, relative rarity, and inconspicuous flowers. Twayblade,\n_Liparis hawaiiensis_ H. Mann, grows in open woods on the ground and on\nmoss-covered trees on the flanks of the volcano and at Paliku. The\nrarest of the three natives, _Habenaria holochila_ Hillebr., has been\nfound growing 1-2\u00bd feet high in deep moss in fog-swept Koolau Gap. It\nbears its dull-greenish, inconspicuous orchids on a tall, many-flowered\nspike.\n\u2019ALA \u2019ALAWAINUI, _Peperomia sp._ A small herb with succulent leaves\nfound at Paliku. It is a member of the Pepper Family, _Piperaceae_, to\nwhich AWA, _Piper methysticum_, belongs. There are many Peperomias\nnative to Hawaiian forests. Some have leaves with gay red undersides.\nSANDALWOOD, \u2019ILIAHI, _Santalum haleakalae_ Hillebr. Fig. 3. A small but\nstriking tree found above the park entrance, in Koolau Gap, and along\nthe Kaupo Trail below Paliku. It has leathery, dark green leaves so that\nit stands out in the vegetation and is readily distinguished from afar.\nIn mid-summer, corymbs of four-pointed, deep-red or vermillion flowers\nappear on the ends of branches. The dry heartwood has the fragrance\nwhich is associated with the name sandalwood. Degener tells the detailed\nstory of sandalwood trade that flourished in the islands for fifty years\nbeginning in 1790.[20]\nSHEEP SORREL, _Rumex acetosella_ L., an abundant, well-known, introduced\nweed found both inside the crater and out. A native species called\nPAWALE, _Rumex gigantius_ Ait., is more interesting. It grows as a\nstocky undershrub on barren lava flows and in rock crevices inside the\ncrater. In Koolau Gap, it becomes a sprawling vine. It is said that a\nmixture of an extraction from the boiled bark and AWA was used by\nHawaiians for skin diseases. This was tried in vain as a cure for\nleprosy when the disease first appeared in the islands in 1840.\nHAWAIIAN BUTTERCUP, MAKOU, _Ranunculus hawaiiensis_ A. Gray. Like the\nnative violets and geraniums, members of this genus, well-known on the\nmainland, either become bushy or spread as a woody vine in Hawaii. Two\nnative species occur on Haleakala, but the yellow-flowered, sprawling\n_R. mauiensis_ A. Gray is reported only outside the park. The larger\nflowered, erect Hawaiian buttercup, however, was reported by J. F. Rock\nto be abundant formerly in Puu Nianiau Crater. It is a coarse,\nhollow-stemmed, hairy herb with compound leaves divided into three\nsharply-toothed, irregular leaflets. Within Haleakala Crater it grows on\nmoist, grassy slopes in Koolau Gap.\nHO\u2019AWA, _Pittosporum confertiflorum_ A. Gray. A small tree, sometimes\nbecoming 25 feet tall. The large leaves, shiny green on top, brown hairy\nunderneath, are crowded like whorls on the ends of the branches. In the\ncenters of these, dense clusters of fleshy, cream-colored flowers appear\nin late summer. Wrinkled fruits, resembling English walnuts, hang on the\ntrees throughout the year. Very few trees grow in the crater, but they\nare more numerous above 4,000 feet along the Kaupo Trail and at\nUlupalakua. The genus of some 200 species is widespread; it has many\nspecies native to Hawaii. Some kinds are well-known garden plants.\n_Pittosporum tobira_ (Thunb.) Ait., a native of China and Japan, is a\nfavorite shrub in California.\nHAWAIIAN HAWTHORN, \u2019ULEI, _Osteomeles anthyllidifolia_ Smith (Lindl). A\nspreading shrub with compound leaves and fragrant, small, white flowers,\nlike apple blossoms, that may appear throughout the year. The fruit is\nwhite and contains five stony seeds. Plants growing on ash flats are\nvery small. The strong but pliable wood of ulei was used for digging\nsticks, fish spears, and hoops to keep the mouths of fishing nets open.\nHAWAIIAN RASPBERRY, \u2019AKALA, _Rubus hawaiiensis_ A. Gray. Fig. 5. A shrub\nwith attractive pink flowers abundant at Paliku. It is found also in\nKoolau Gap at the foot of Leleiwi Pali and elsewhere. The fruit,\nagreeable but somewhat bitter, is remarkable for its large size. It\nripens about the Fourth of July or later. A trailing native, _R.\nmacraei_ A. Gray, sprawls in foggy Koolau Gap. Its large, dark fruits\nare bitter.\nMAMANE, _Sophora chrysophylla_ Salisb. Fig. 4. A common native shrub or\nsmall tree of the Bean Family both inside and outside the crater up to\ntree line. It is recognized by more or less downy, narrow, compound\nleaves, racemes of yellow flowers, and twisted pods that have four wings\nand are constricted between the seeds. Goats eat it greedily and quickly\nexterminate it in an area. The hard, durable wood was used by Hawaiians\nin many ways; today it is a principal firewood for the crater cabins. A\ntree in full bloom is a beautiful object. The height of the flowering\nseason is mid-spring.\nGERANIUM, NOHOANU, HINAHINA. Fig. 6, 7. _Neurophyllodes tridens_\n(Hillebr.) Degener & Greenwell is common above the park entrance and on\nthe south wall within the crater. It sometimes becomes three feet tall\nand is readily identified by its silvery leaves, each of which has three\nsmall teeth on the end. The white flowers have purplish veins especially\ntoward their centers. The blooming season is July to October. The\nsilvery aspect of the plant, like the silversword, is imparted by a mesh\nof fine white hair that reflects the light of a passing car as\neffectively as the glass-beaded paint of directional signs.\nTwo native geranium relatives grow in Koolau Gap, _N. ovatifolium_ (A.\nGray) Degener & Greenwell and its variety _superbum_. The latter is\ncommon on the trail to Waikau not far from the foot of Leleiwi Pali.\nOne of the common plants growing on the crater floor is the exotic\npink-flowered _G. carolinianum_ var. _australi_ (Benth.) Fosberg whose\npointed fruiting bodies give it the common name, _cranesbill_.\nHAWAIIAN HOLLY, KAWA\u2019U, _Ilex anomala_ Hook and Arn. The forest growing\non the talus behind the Paliku cabins is the finest within the crater. A\nstriking tree of this association is the Hawaiian holly that has dark,\nshiny, oval leaves with conspicuous networks of slightly depressed veins\nthat make identification easy. Dense panicles of small, white flowers\nare followed by shiny, black drupes, like Christmas holly \u201cberries.\u201d The\ngenus is that of the English holly. Curiously, the scientific name has\nbeen locally corrupted to _ileck_.\nOLOMEA, _Perrottetia sandwicensis_ A. Gray. A native shrub or small tree\nbelonging to the same family as the bittersweet of the continent. The\nnumerous tiny, round, red fruits, borne in panicles, suggest the\nrelationship. The bright red venation of leaves and petioles make the\nplant easily recognized. I know of no plants within the park, but found\nmany trees a thousand feet below the park boundary in Keanae Valley.\nA\u2019AL\u2019II, _Dodonaea eriocarpa_ Smith. Fig. 8. This is a common shrub in\nseveral varieties along the highway and in the western end of the\ncrater. At Paliku and Kaupo Gap it becomes a tree up to 20 feet high and\n8 inches in diameter. Its flowers are inconspicuous but clusters of dry,\nreddish fruit-capsules contrast, flower-like, with the surrounding green\nfoliage. The fruits, abundant from July to September, are used for leis\nand dry bouquets. The hard brown heartwood was used for spears,\n_pololu_, daggers, _pahoa_, and other implements.\nBEGONIA\u2014PUAMAKANUI, _Hillebrandia sandwicensis_ Oliv. (See illustration\np. 53.) The only native begonia, found in wet ravines often by\nwaterfalls. It grows profusely at Koolau a mile below Holua Cabin at the\nfoot of the rain-drenched _pali_. This succulent herb has a tuberous\nrhizome, unbranched, slender stems, and hairy, toothed leaves 4-10\ninches in diameter. From June to August it bears sprays of bright, pink\nand white flowers. This is one of the floral treasures of Hawaii.\nTARWEED. _Cuphea carthagenensis_ (Jacq.) McBride. A low, sticky, hairy\nperennial from tropical America widely spread at lower elevations in the\npark. It has red or green branches, small ovate leaves, and tiny but not\nunattractive pink flowers \u00bc inch across. Plants in rock crevices on\ncliffs are tiny; on the crater floor, they may become a foot high and\nform a dense shrubby mat over a sizeable area. The plant belongs to the\nLYTHRACEAE or Crepe Myrtle Family.\n\u2019OHI\u2019A LEHUA, _Metrosideros collina_ (Forst.) A. Gray. Fig. 9. This, the\ncommonest tree in the islands, consists of a swarm of hybrids of which\nthe parentage is still unknown. It is scattered within the park to tree\nline. It is abundant in the eastern end of the crater and at Paliku. The\nbeautiful flowers, mostly red, a few yellow, may appear throughout the\nyear. Here spring seems to be the best season for them.\nEVENING PRIMROSE, _Raimannia odorata_ (Jacq.) Sprague & Riley. A\nslender, erect, hairy South American herb introduced forty years ago. It\nis a prolific bloomer, is widespread, and, in blooming season, the most\nconspicuous flower both at Park Headquarters and within the crater. The\nlarge, sulphur-yellow flowers appear at night, but wilt within the\nfollowing day, turning reddish as they do so.\n\u2019APE\u2019APE\u2014_Gunnera petaloidea_ Gaud. (See illustration p. 54.) A\nhuge-leaved forest perennial with a massive prostrate stem which stands\nerect 3 or 4 feet at the tip. In the center of the leaves a tall stalk\nrises that bears hundreds of small yellow-brown flowers. I know of no\nplants within the crater, but some grow within a mile of the park\nboundary below Koolau Gap, as well as in adjacent wet valleys.\nOLAPA, _Cheirodendron trigynum_ (Gaud.) Heller. Fig. 10. This tree\noccurs in several varieties. The variety _oblongum_ Sherff grows 30 feet\ntall around the cabins at Paliku, also at Ulupalakua. The variety\n_mauiense_ Levl. common at Olinda, also grows in Kaupo Gap. The genus is\nHawaiian but has a lone representative in the Marquesas. It is\nwidespread in deep soils in all of the islands. The leaves are compound\nwith 3 or 5 leaflets which, at Paliku, have reddish petioles. The\npanicles of small, green flowers are followed by black drupes. The\nleaves, bark, and fruit are said to have yielded a blue dye for staining\ntapa.\n\u2019OHELO, _Vaccinium reticulatum_ Smith. Fig. 11. Hikers in the crater are\ngrateful for the widespread ohelo bushes that yield pleasant fruits to\nbe nibbled along the way. In areas rich in moisture, like Koolau Gap,\nlarge, maroon bell-shaped flowers droop from the axels of the leaves.\nThe berries found in the eastern end of the crater appear to be largest.\nThe bearing season appears at its height in mid-autumn. The plants along\nthe Halemauu Trail constitute a distinct species, _V. berberidifolium_\nSkottsb.\nPUKIAWE, _Styphelia tameiameiae_ (Cham.) F. Muell. Fig. 12. A most\nabundant shrub, both inside and outside the crater, but near the top it\nis replaced by a trailing shrub that has been classified as _S.\ndouglasii_ (A. Gray) Hochr. The berries of this plant are white, pink,\nred, or mahogany brown; they are most abundant in winter, but some may\nbe seen on the shrub throughout the year.\nKOLEA, _Suttonia lessertiana_ (A.DC.) Mez; syn. _Rapanea lessertiana_\n(A.DC.) Degener and Hosaka. Fig. 13. This variable tree grows up to 50\nfeet tall as one of the common trees around Paliku cabins. The thick\nleaves with short petioles, crowded near the ends of thick branches,\nhave a beautiful roseate hue when young. The branches are studded with\nspurs on which grow small 5-parted flowers in clusters of three or more\nthat are followed by dark, purplish-red or black fruits up to \u00bc inch in\ndiameter, often so numerous that the branch is completely hidden.\nHawaiians made a red dye for tapa from the sap and bark. The crimson sap\nbleeds freely from a cut made deeply into the bark of a living tree.\nSELFHEAL, _Prunella vulgaris_ L., a common weed of Eurasian origin, is\nwidespread in rocky, scrub cover, and at Paliku. A dense cluster of\nsmall, lipped, blue to purple flowers appears on the end of each upright\nstem.\nPUA\u2019AINAKA, _Stenogyne rotundifolia_ A. Gray. This endemic long-branched\nshrub of the Mint Family is found only on Haleakala. Within the crater\nand on upper slopes it is trailing and is relatively rare, being most\nabundant in Kaupo Gap. The attractive, pale purple flowers in whorls of\nsix are 1\u00bd inches long and are covered with silky, white hair. They\nappear in late summer. Outside the crater, _S. haliakalae_ Wawra is\nabundant in forests as a large, diffuse shrub that often forms a dense\nmat over surrounding shrubs. Another mint, _Stenogyne crenata_ A. Gray,\nwas collected by Skottsberg among shrubs on the south wall of the\ncrater.\nGROUNDCHERRY, _Cape Gooseberry_, POHA, _Physalis peruviana_ L. A South\nAmerican perennial herb, widely scattered throughout Hawaii, well-known\nfor its round, orange, many-seeded, husk-enclosed fruits that are edible\nraw or preserved. It grows extensively in Kaupo Gap. The large yellow\nflowers with brownish spots near the center appear from June to late\nfall in this area.\nPLANTAIN, LAUKAHI, _Plantago_ sp. Plantain is a hardy, cosmopolitan,\nstemless weed forming a rosette of broadly oval leaves, 1-10 inches\nlong, near the ground. The tiny flowers and seed capsules are borne as\ncylindrical heads at the ends of tall stalks. The plant is widespread\nalong the side of the road as well as within the crater. Of several\nhundred species of _Plantago_, four or more are endemic to Hawaii. One\nof these, _P. princeps_ Cham. & Schl., is a shrub several feet high with\ntufts of long narrow leaves at the ends of the branches. It grows on\ncliffs at Kaupo Gap. Other plantains with thick leaves, silky\nunderneath, creep on the ground in Koolau Gap.\nKUKAENENE, _Coprosma ernodioides_ A. Gray. Fig. 15. A common woody shrub\nwith long trailing branches that send up short, erect, densely foliose\nbranchlets at each node. The awl-shaped leaves are rigid and dark-green.\nThe fruits are shiny black drupes which are a favorite food of the\nnative goose, _nene_.\nPILO, _Coprosma montana_ Hillebr. Fig. 14. One of the commonest shrubs\nthroughout the crater and from Park Headquarters to 9,000 feet outside\nthe crater. It is a small tree up to 20 feet tall in Kaupo Gap. As a\nshrub the ascending tips look like jets shot up from densely foliose\nbranchlets. The alternate, small, thick leaves have conspicuous nerves\nimpressed on the upper face. Below each pair of leaves is a pair of\ntriangular bracts, stipules, with cilia on the upper border. The\ngreenish, inconspicuous flowers are followed by showy, bright orange,\nyellow, or red fruits which make the plant a subject attractive to color\nphotographers in fall.\nMANONO, _Gouldia terminalis_ (H. & A.) Hillebr. A shrub or small tree\ngrowing on the talus above the Paliku cabins. It has shiny, opposite\nleaves and dense terminal clusters of greenish, four-lobed, cup-shaped\nflowers that are followed by small black berries. It blooms in late\nsummer. The genus is one of three in the Coffee Family that are endemic\nto Hawaii.\nCATCHFLY, _Silene struthioloides_ A. Gray. Fig. 16. A plant that is\ntypical only of arid Cinders and ash on East Maui and on the island of\nHawaii. With the silversword as its companion in Haleakala Crater the\nplants are found at the bases of barren cones. They show neat adaptation\nto their stark home. The Haleakala plants, as illustrated, are low and\ncompact, but those growing at Kilauea Crater bear only a few awl-shaped\nleaves and resemble dead twigs. The thick tap roots are sweet and\nedible. About 250 species belong to this genus, a member of the Pink or\nCarnation Family. A well-known introduced weed, the English catchfly,\n_Silene anglica_ L., was reported by Degener at 10,000 feet on\nHaleakala.\n\u2019OHA, _Labelia grayana_ E. Wimm. A low plant with woody trailing stems\nwith knobby leaf scars and ending with a crowded arrangement of silvery,\nlinear leaves, 4-8 inches long and crowned with densely flowered\nracemes, 6-15 inches long. The flowers are lilac-blue with a satiny\nsheen. The plant is not uncommon on wet _pali_ from 5,000-7,000 feet at\nPaliku, Kaupo and Koolau Gaps, and in the northwestern end of the\ncrater. It is a glorious plant worth hunting for and going miles to see.\nNAUPAKA. _Scaevola chamissoniana_ Gaud. This shrub was noted only on the\neast side of Kaupo Gap. This is a varying species found up to the\n6,000-foot elevation. It is not common and blooms in summer. The white\nflowers with purplish streaks are slit to the base on the upper side.\nThey look like flower-halves rather than complete corollas. There are\nseveral legends about the peculiar flower, each dealing with lovers\nseparated from each other. In a song composed about it, the lovers were\nforceably parted, so the girl divided a perfect corolla, giving one half\nto her lover while keeping the other half herself. One of the lovers\ncarried the flower to the sea, _naupaka kahakai_, the other to the\nmountain, _naupaka kuahiwi_, where the plants are found today.\nMAUI WORMWOOD, _Artemisia mauiensis_ (A. Gray) Skottsb. Fig. 17. Typical\nof Maui and found only on Haleakala, this hoary ornamental shrub,\nusually 2-3 feet high, perches on cliffs usually above the reach of man.\nIt has a densely-branched crown with silvery leaves that are aromatic\nand bitter. The leaves are composed of thin segments that are covered\nwith a mat of cottony hair, giving the plant a silvery appearance. The\nsmall orange flowers are borne in terminal panicles.\nThe Hawaiians call the wormwood AHINAHINA, applied also to silversword,\ngeranium, and other gray plants. The basic word refers to the color of\nsilvery-gray hair, the connection being obvious. Hawaiians use the\npounded leaves to relieve asthma. The genus is large, having some 250\nspecies that are generally found in arid regions. The sagebrush of the\nwestern states, _A. tridentata_ Nutt., is the best known to most park\nvisitors.\nKO\u2019OKO\u2019OLAU, _Bidens_ sp. Like _Artemisia_, the genus is a huge one with\nover 200 species and belongs to the Composite Family which includes\ndandelions, daisies, and sunflowers. E. E. Sherff of the Chicago Museum\nof Natural History, a specialist on the genus, lists sixty species\nnative to Hawaii. Native KO\u2019OKO\u2019OLAU are shrubby and often of great\nbeauty. This is true of _B. campylotheca pentamera_ Sherff which sprawls\nover the vegetation in Koolau Gap. It has fern-like leaves and large,\npretty, yellowish flower-heads. Hawaiians use the tips of young plants\nfor tea, often in preference over imported tea.\nBesides the native varieties, three introduced species grow in the\nislands, including beggar ticks or Spanish needles, _B. pilosa_ L. It is\na nuisance, as the three-pronged fruits that give it the common name\nreadily attach themselves to clothing as well as to fur of passing\nanimals.\nKUPAOA, NA\u2019ENA\u2019E. Fig. 18, 19. Several kinds of composite shrubs are\ncalled by these names, both of which mean fragrance or perfume. They\nwere used for scenting tapa. They belong to the endemic genera\n_Dubautia_ and _Railliardia_, both of which have species found in the\npark. _Dubautia plantagiena_ var. _platyphylla_ Hillebr. Gaud., a shrub\nat 6,000 feet in Kaupo and Koolau Gaps, has linear leaves 4-8 inches\nlong, with 7-13 conspicuous nerves. It is a small tree below Nianiau\nCrater. It is a handsome sight when in flower; the flower-heads are\nyellow. In general appearance it is much like that of _Railliardia\nplatyphylla_ A. Gray which grows in cinders and ash, mostly inside the\ncrater. At 8,000 feet, _R. platyphylla_ becomes a straggling shrub. The\ncommonest member of this group, _Railliardia menziesii_ A. Gray, is a\nshrub in the crater and on the rim from 8,000-10,000 feet. Between 6,000\nand 7,000 feet it is a tree up to 20 feet tall. The dark green, pointed,\nlinear, fleshy leaves are ranked in vertical rows of four on upright\nstems and branches. Its dark yellow flower-heads are borne in panicles.\n_R. scabra_ DC., found in Kaupo Gap and on Leleiwi Pali, does not have\nthe regular leaf arrangement.\nPAMAKANI-HAOLE, _Eupatorium glandulosum_ HBK. _Eupatorium_ is another\nhuge genus of the Composite Family with several hundred species, mostly\nfrom tropical America. Five species have been introduced into Hawaii of\nwhich two are bad pests. _E. glandulosum_, a native of Mexico, spread\nrapidly on Maui, crowding out desirable plants and making pasturelands\nworthless. A parasitic insect, _Procecidochares utilis_ Stone, was\nintroduced in 1944 to combat it. This insect belongs to the order\nDIPTERA, the flies, gnats, midges, and mosquitoes, and to the family\nTRYPETIDAE, that includes the Mediterranean fruitfly and the common\n\u201capple-worm\u201d which is actually the larva of a fly. The trypetids infest\nliving plants, frequently causing galls, and have piercing ovipositors,\noften prominent, with which females deposit eggs beneath the skin of\ntheir host.\nIt is not expected that the studied introduction of a parasite will\nresult in the extermination of a host, but rather that it will check\nunbridled increase and spread. The method is termed \u201cbiological\ncontrol.\u201d It has been successfully adopted against several menaces, such\nas cactus, lantana, and a fern-weevil, _Syragrius fulvitarsis_ Pascoe,\nthat kills amaumau ferns in the Kilauea Crater area.\nPamakani abound throughout the crater, even clinging as tiny starvelings\nin small cracks in cliffs, like those along Halemauu Trail. Every plant\nshows swellings in which the little maggots live, and exit holes through\nwhich the new adults emerge. Many plants bear only few leaves and fight\ntenaciously for survival. Big plants may be seen along Kaupo Trail.\n_Pamakani_ means _wind-blown_, in reference to the method of seed\ndispersal.\nHAIRY CAT\u2019S-EAR, \u201cDandelion,\u201d _Hypochoeris radicata_ L. A common\ncomposite, native to the Mediterranean, found in abundance throughout\nthe park. Its narrow leaves with yellow hairs form flat rosettes. A\nbranching, leafless stalk up to a foot or more tall bears yellow\nflower-heads, an inch in diameter, that resemble the well-known\ndandelion, _Taraxacum officinale_ Weber, by which common name many call\nthe cat\u2019s-ear. The hairless, _H. glabra_ L. is a smaller plant with\nsmooth leaves and flower-heads \u00bc inch in diameter. The cat\u2019s-ear is a\nfavorite food of the Hawaiian goose, _nene_. _Gosmer_ is a common name\nused locally.\nWOOD GROUNDSEL, _Senecio sylvaticus_ L., a native of Europe, is a\nbranching, weedy herb, 1-2 feet high, abundant along the foot of\nKalahaku Pali. It has irregularly lobed leaves and small yellow flowers\nin a tight flower head, \u2153 inch long and \u00bd inch in diameter.\nTETRAMALOPIUM. Fig. 20, illustration p. 53. This endemic genus has a\ndozen species, two of which are a pride of Haleakala. The small leaves\nare narrow and crowded at branch ends. The showy flowerheads of white,\npinkish, or lavender ray florets surround a disk of purplish central\nflorets. _T. humile_ (A. Gray) Hillebr. is found inside and outside the\ncrater between 6,000-9,000 feet. It is a small, low, shrubby plant with\nnarrow, spoon-shaped leaves quite covered with sticky, curly hair. The\nplant growing in cracks between rocks at the very summit is stiffer and\nconsiderably different.\nSILVERSWORD, AHINAHINA, _Argyroxiphium sandwicense_ DC. Illustrations on\ncover and pages iv, 47. As famous as the crater itself, and almost as\nwell-known, the silversword is regarded as typical of Haleakala,\nalthough its natural range embraces Mauna Loa, Mauna Kea, and Hualalai\nfrom 7,000 to 12,000 feet. A lustrous silvery down thickly covers all\nleaves and makes the plant exceedingly beautiful. It is highly evolved\nto withstand the extreme dryness of cinder cones and the intense\nsunlight of lofty elevation. Surprising to most visitors on first\nacquaintance is the fact that it bears no relationship to the yucca of\nthe Lily Family, but belongs to the COMPOSITAE along with sunflowers,\nasters, and chrysanthemums. Like _Dubautia_ and _Railliardia_, it has no\nclose relatives outside of the islands. _Wilkesia_, endemic to Kauai, is\nso closely similar that some authorities class it in the genus\n_Argyroxphium_.\nThe Haleakala silversword has a short, simple, woody stem 2-3 inches in\ndiameter crowded with thick, dagger-like leaves arranged spirally around\nit. After growth from 7 to as much as 20 years, a foliose raceme 3-8\nfeet high develops on which 100-500 flower-heads nod. Each has a central\ndisk of hundreds of bright yellow florets surrounded by a score of short\nreddish-purple ray florets. The flowering season is from June through\nOctober. The whole plant dies after flowering but once.\nThe greensword, _A. virescens_ Hillebr., a much rarer plant with green\nleaves, once grew from 6,000 to 9,000 feet. Today it has all but\nvanished; a few plants are still to be found in Koolau Gap just outside\nthe park, and between rocks on the edges of cliffs at Kaupo Gap.\nVisitors once gathered specimens of silversword as evidence that they\nhad been up the mountain, even as the mountaineer gathers edelweiss in\nSwitzerland. Thoughtless people uprooted the silvery globes merely to\nwatch them tumble down the slopes. Goats eat the growing heart of the\nplant. Grazing stock are incompatible with its existence. It has many\ninsect parasites (see The Insect Life). All of these, singly and in\ncombination, threaten the existence of the species.\nThe outer slopes of the mountain had thousands of silverswords according\nto early accounts, while today they are rare. In the crater, some of the\ncones were so thickly covered that they appeared to be bathed in\nmoonlight. Except for strong, enlightened action, this beautiful plant\nmight have completely vanished from the mountain.\nThe following are incomplete lists of plants reported at various places\nwithin the park. They may serve as the start or a check for those\nwishing to know something of the plants in a certain area. The names\ngiven are those most commonly used locally or those used to head the\ncorresponding sections above.\nCOMMONEST SHRUBS ALONG THE HIGHWAY above Headquarters. Sandalwood,\nmamane, geranium (_N. tridens_), aalii, ohia, ohelo, pukiawe, mountain\npilo, kupaoa.\nWIDESPREAD below 8,500 feet. _Stereocaulon_ lichen (mostly on barren\nlava), pellucid polypody, maidenhair spleenwort, cliffbrake, swordfern,\nbracken, sedge (_Gahnia_), sheep sorrel or dock; ulei, mamane, aalii,\ntarweed, ohia, evening primrose, ohelo, pukiawe, selfheal, plantain,\nkukaenene, mountain pilo, kupaoa, pamakani, hairy cat\u2019s-ear, horseweed.\nSUMMIT FLORA (above 8,500 feet). Mountain pili (grass), trailing\npukiawe, _tetramalopium sp._, kupaoa, common dandelion.\nCRATER FLOOR on ash or barren lava. Mountain pili, sheep sorrel, ulei,\nmamane, bur clover, white clover, cranesbill, aalii, tarweed, ohia,\nevening primrose, ohelo, pukiawe, selfheal, common plantain, kukaenene,\nmountain pilo, catchfly, kupaoa, pamakani, hairy cat\u2019s-ear, Canadian\nhorseweed, _Tetramalopium humile_, silversword.\nKOOLAU GAP. Amaumau, rush, mauulaili, tree orchid, sandalwood, pawale,\nHawaiian buttercup, trailing _akala_, native strawberry, nohoanu,\napeape, highbush ohelo, trailing plantain, lobelia, wormwood, trailing\nkookoolau, greensword.\nPALIKU. Amaumau, ekaha, akaha akolea, twayblade, alaalawainui, hoawa,\nakala, kawau, olapa, kolea, manono, lobelia, naenae.\nKAUPO GAP. Rush, mauulaili, sandalwood, hoawa, puaainaka, poha, common\npotato (naturalized), Jerusalem cherry, tree plantain, lobelia, naupaka,\n_Dubautia sp._, _Railliardia scabra_.\n    [Illustration: Figure 1\u2014SEDGE, _Gahnia_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 2\u2014HAWAIIAN ORCHID, _Liparis_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 3\u2014SANDALWOOD, _Santalum haleakalae_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 4\u2014MAMANE, _Sophora chrysophylla_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 5\u2014HAWAIIAN RASPBERRY, _Rubus hawaiiensis_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 6\u2014HINAHINA, _Geranium tridens_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 7\u2014NOHOANU, _Geranium (Neurophyllodes)\n    arboreum_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 8\u2014AALII, Seed capsules, leaf detail]\n    [Illustration: Figure 9\u2014OHIA LEHUA, Twig with flower beginning to\n    open]\n    [Illustration: Figure 10\u2014OLAPA]\n    [Illustration: Figure 11\u2014OHELO]\n    [Illustration: Figure 12\u2014PUKIAWE, Twig, flower magnified]\n    [Illustration: Figure 13\u2014KOLEA, showing fruit]\n    [Illustration: Figure 14\u2014MOUNTAIN PILO. Twig, fruits, leaf shapes,\n    magnified flower and leaf showing veination]\n    [Illustration: Figure 15\u2014KUKAENENE, fruiting twig, male and female\n    flowers]\n    [Illustration: Figure 16\u2014CATCHFLY, _Silene struthioloides_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 17\u2014MAUI WORMWOOD, leaves, magnified flowers]\n    [Illustration: Figure 18\u2014NAENAE, _Dubautia plantaginea_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 19\u2014KUPAOA, _Raillardia menziesii_]\n    [Illustration: Figure 20\u2014TETRAMALOPIUM]\nIt is a general rule that, as among plants, numbers and species of birds\ndecrease as one goes up a mountain. It is true also that native Hawaiian\nbirds are to be found mostly in upland forests. Of the members of the\nendemic nectar-sipping family, DREPANIDAE, _\u2019apapane_ and _\u2019i\u2019iwi_ may\nbe seen up to 8,500 feet. They are associated with ohia which give them\ntheir food. _\u2019Amakihi_ are fond of the mamane blossoms, so it is not\nsurprising to find them widespread although not numerous in the park.\nFar rarer is the little Maui creeper, _\u2019alauahio_, which finds insects\nand spiders for food in the bark of trunks and branches of trees and\nshrubs. It follows the latter up to the Alpine Zone.\nExcept for migrants and sea birds, other natives nowadays are absent.\nOccasionally an Hawaiian owl, _pueo_, has been seen flying over\ngrasslands near the park entrance and at Paliku. Tropic birds, _koa\u2019e_,\noccasionally soar around the cliffs inside the crater. The dark-rumped\npetrel, _\u2019ua\u2019u_, a vanishing species, is heard at night back of Holua\nand Kapalaoa cabins, and at Leleiwi Overlook. This pigeon-sized bird of\nthe ocean nests in burrows 4-6 feet deep, at the bases of cliffs in the\ncrater. Both young and adults were formerly hunted, often with nets,\nbecause they were highly prized as food. Bird catching was an important\noccupation of Hawaiians; at times one stumbles upon the remains of\nshelter caves and campsites used by them in a lonely mountain vastness.\nExcept the period from early May to mid-August while it is away on its\nmigration to Alaska, the golden plover, _kolea_, is a most conspicuous\nbird inside and outside the crater.\nIntroduced birds are everywhere. The Japanese white-eye or _mejiro_ can\nbe found in vegetation up to the Alpine Zone. It is especially common at\nPaliku, the most rewarding bird area in the park. The Pekin nightingale\nor Japanese hill robin, _sochi-cho_, goes all the way to the summit. I\nobserved a pair at the structure on Red Hill, and picked up a dead one\nabove the elevation of the Observatory. They sing in the trees around\nPaliku. Linnets and skylarks are often seen or heard anywhere up to the\nAlpine Zone. Commoner at low elevations, a mockingbird appears\ninfrequently above Park Headquarters, and mynahs visit the inn grounds\nin summer. They also appear at Paliku. English sparrows may linger\naround the horse barns, as expected.\nThe most conspicuous and commonest Haleakala birds are introduced\ngame-birds. Ringnecked pheasants are flushed or heard up to 8,500 feet,\nwhile Chukar partridges are numerous from 7,500 to 10,000 feet. Both of\nthese are abundant in the crater. The Chukar, only a newcomer here, is\nalready definitely at home. California quail scurry from the road or\ntrail at elevations up to 7,500 feet. In 1958, 27 Erchel\u2019s francolin\nwere released just below the park line near the inn, but success of\ntheir establishment is still a question.\nThe bat was apparently the only mammal living in Hawaii at the time when\nPolynesian navigators first visited here. They carried the pig, dog, and\ntramp rat along with them on their voyages. After Cook, many mammals\nwere brought in, some of which readily reverted to a wild state. These\ninclude sheep, goats, cattle, horses, burros, dogs, cats, and mongooses.\nThe feral goat is the problem child of the Haleakala area. Often a\nbeautiful creature, with long, black, flowing hair, it soon exterminates\nsilversword, mamane, and desirable vegetation wherever it is left\nuncontrolled. Upon being forceably separated from its mother, the\nterrified kid quickly becomes tame and attaches itself as closely to the\nhuman associate as it did to its natural parent. Occasionally a stray\ndog that has reverted to the wild is seen in the park area. It is only a\nreminder of the days of the past century when packs roamed the side of\nthe mountain and harassed visitors with their ferocity. Joining their\nmembers were wild bullocks that also constituted a threat. These were\ninevitably mentioned in all journals of early visitors. In the wet\nforested areas below Koolau Gap, on the fringe of upper Kipahulu Valley,\nand along the rim at Waianapanapa, pigs flourish in bliss that is broken\nonly occasionally by a local hunter who seeks them just outside the\nboundary of the park.\nHawaii National Park is rich in insect life although, as is typical of\ninsular areas, insects are much more sparse than in continental regions.\nMost of our insects are endemic species, i.e., are found only in these\nislands; many are very limited in distribution. For the most part the\nendemic insects are associated with the native plants. Most of our\ninsects are comparatively small and inconspicuous; nevertheless, a great\nmany are strange and unusual so that our fauna is particularly\ninteresting to the scientist. We have none of the larger, showy\nbutterflies and other insects which the visitor often expects to find\nhere. No noxious or harmful species are present in areas used by park\nvisitors, but the large blowflies which breed in goat carcasses in\nHaleakala Crater sometimes become a nuisance, due to their presence in\nlarge numbers. These are mainland species which have been accidentally\nintroduced into Hawaii and which are now restricted to the highland\nareas where the climate is temperate. With the exception of lice and\ndomestic flies, which were brought here by the Hawaiians themselves,\nHawaii was free of pestiferous insects before the arrival of the\nEuropeans.\nOne of the best known endemic Hawaiian insects is the butterfly named\nafter King Kamehameha, _Vanessa tameamea_, a highly colored relative of\nthe painted lady, the tortoise shells, and the red admiral butterflies\nof the mainland. This species is highly prized by amateur butterfly\ncollectors since it is found no place else in the world. Its colors are\norange, brown, and black. The female has small white spots in the apical\nportions of the front wings; these spots are rosy colored in the male.\nThe caterpillars, green or purplish, feed on the leaves of the _mamaki_.\nAdults are found in forests throughout the islands. They are attracted\nto the native hydrangea, _kanawao_, to the introduced thimbleberry, or\nto the sap exuding from _koa_ or _naio_. This butterfly is a strong\nflier, and ranges from the seacoast to the top of Haleakala. The female\nof _Hodegia apetala_, an endemic genus of only one described species, is\nan Hawaiian moth unable to fly.[22] The male is unknown. This jumping\ninsect, related to the bollworm, lives in bunch grass near the summit.\nThe narrow, pointed, reduced, ashen-brown wings are \u00bd inch long; the\nabdomen, about as long as the wings, is brownish gray.\nAs one walks over open patches at higher elevations a brown moth, 1\u00bd\ninches wide, rises readily before one. This is _Agrotis aulacias_ that\npossesses great powers of flight.[23] The genus of 27 species is related\nto army worms, cut-worms, and a host of agricultural pests. _Fletcherana\ninsularis_ is a geometrid moth (inch worm, measuring worm, or looper)\nfound in late spring high above the forest belt near the park entrance.\nThe insect is an inch wide, its color is white, speckled with black. The\ngenus of 5 species is confined to Hawaii.\n_Nesophrosyne haleakala_ is a mottled, gray-brown leafhopper, \u215b inch\nlong; the head and front part of the thorax are yellowish. In the park\nit is found in _pilo_ and _ohelo_ at 8,500 or 9,000 feet. The genus is\nendemic and contains over 60 forms distributed throughout the islands.\nAn undesirable pest has publicized its presence high above the park\nentrance by leaving its name on two caves which early visitors found\nconvenient for shelter. Big Flea and Little Flea Caves often appear in\naccounts of early trips, but never without mention of the annoyance that\nwas caused by their permanent occupants. Of the 7 different kinds of\nfleas recorded for Hawaii, only the so-called cat flea (_Ctenocephalides\nfelis_) annoys people to any extent. Several species of fleas infest the\nHawaiian rat and were presumably brought in when this rodent arrived\nwith the earliest Polynesian immigrants.\nBecause the beautiful silversword has no very close relatives, which\nmeans that its ancestors arrived in Hawaii in earliest time, any species\nof insects associated solely with it as a host plant draws particular\ninterest. Moreover, since the survival of silverswords is precarious in\nthis day of rapid change, all agents that threaten must be carefully\nscrutinized. Silverswords are specific hosts to a half dozen or more\nendemic species of insects.[24] Among Lepidoptera, the family of moths\nand butterflies, the larvae of a pyralid moth, _Rhynchephestia\nrhabdotus_, feeds in the flower-heads, destroying the seeds.\nCaterpillars of a noctuid, _Euxoa epicremma_, have been collected\nbeneath plants. The caterpillars of a tineid moth have been found among\ndead leaves. Of the DIPTERA, great numbers of yellow maggots of a gray\nfly, _Tephritis cratericola_, feed on the seeds and prevent their\ndevelopment. The larvae of one of the Coleoptera, a beetle described as\n_Aescheithmysus terryi_, feeds apparently only on old and dead stems. A\nrelative, _A. swezeyi_, similarly feeds on _Railliardia_. Great members\nof a leaf-hopper, _Iburnia argyroxiphii_, suck the sap of Haleakala\nsilverswords. It is preyed upon by a wasp, _Polynema sp._, so tiny that\nthe naked eye can hardly see it. The wasp lays its egg in the egg of the\nhopper. The larval wasp, upon hatching, feeds on the contents of the\nhopper egg, pupates within it, and emerges from it.\nThe Paliku area is very rich in insect life; many hundreds of species\nhave been recorded from here and many are apparently very restricted in\ndistribution and are known only from this locality. Species of\npomace-flies (DROSOPHILIDAE) and the long-legged flies (DOLICHOPODIDAE)\nare especially prevalent at Paliku. Two species of the native genus\n_Idiomyia_ are the largest members of DROSOPHILIDAE found any place in\nthe world; they measure approximately 7 mm. in length. Two species of\nflightless Neuroptera (_Pseudopsectra cookeorum_ and _lobipennis_) occur\non the vegetation (_Dubautia_, _Metrosideros_, and _Cyanea_) in\nHaleakala; these represent one of the strangest entomological\ncuriosities of the world.\nOver five thousand species of insects have been recorded from the\nHawaiian Islands and it is probable that several thousand more species\nremain to be described. In the past our knowledge of the insects was\nbased largely upon the monumental study, \u201cFauna Hawaiiensis,\u201d[25]\npublished by a group of institutions including the British Museum\n(Natural History) and the Bernice P. Bishop Museum. A new faunistic\nstudy is now under way titled \u201cInsects of Hawaii.\u201d[26] This is an\nextremely valuable reference work and is indispensable to anyone\nstudying Hawaiian insects. It gives a complete review of the insects\nfrom the lowest orders through the butterflies and larger moths. Two\nvolumes on the DIPTERA are now in press. Volume one gives a most\ncomprehensive account of the mode of dispersal of our endemic fauna and\nflora to these islands. It is estimated that the 3,722 known endemic\ninsects developed from approximately 250 ancestral species.\n                     HAWAIIAN WORDS AND PLACE NAMES\nTHE HAMZA. During the centuries, changes occur in dialects. Hawaiian is\none of the dialects of the Polynesian language. A striking change in\nHawaiian is the dropping of the letter _k_ that once appeared in some\nwords. But instead of complete discard of the sound, its former\nexistence is revealed as a little catch in the throat, called a glottal\nstop. This is represented in print by a mark (\u2019) called _hamza_. The\nomission of this mark can spell a word of entirely different meaning.\nYet, without explanation, the hamza can be more bewildering than helpful\nto those unfamiliar with Hawaiian. Its use in this book therefore has\nbeen limited to this section and to the section on plants, because it is\nneeded if correct pronunciation is attempted. And who fails to want to\ntry Hawaiian on his tongue!\n  These brief, literal interpretations are not mentioned in the text.\n  Principal authorities are K. E. Emory and M. K. Pukui.\nAHU\u2014Pile, cairn, altar, shrine. Often a small or large pile of stones\nerected as a trailmark or landmark. _Ahu_ were sometimes put up by\npassing parties as monuments or evidence that they had been there, even\nas mountain climbers do to this day. To be assured of a safe journey, an\n_ahu_ of three stones was made as tribute to the god of the locality.\nALII\u2014_Ali\u2019i_, chief, chiefess, sovereign, ruler. One of the upper class.\nHALALII\u2014_Hala-li\u2019i_, fun-making, from the name of a traditional chief of\nNi\u2019ihau.\nHALEAKALA\u2014_Hale-a-ka-la_ is usually interpreted as \u201chouse of the sun,\u201d a\nsimple translation of the Hawaiian name given us for the mountain. It\nassumes vague reference to the Maui legend. An old explanation converted\nthe translation to \u201chouse built by the sun.\u201d Rev. A. O. Forbes[27] says\nthat the name is a corruption of _Alehe-ka-la_, \u201csnarer of the sun,\u201d in\nreference to Maui\u2019s deeds. Still another version would have it\n_Ahale-ka-la_, to be interpreted as \u201crays of the sun.\u201d\nHALEMAUU\u2014_Hale mau\u2019u_ is grass hut; _hale ma\u2019u\u2019u_ signifies damp house.\nHANA\u2014Bay or valley, when used in a place name.\nHANAKAUHI\u2014_Hana-ka-uhi_, the mist-maker; yam valley.\nHAOLE\u2014A foreigner, one of foreign extraction; today, usually in\nreference to a Caucasian; adj., foreign.\nHEIAU\u2014Pre-christian place of worship, hence, usually translated temple.\nThis was often a stone platform or an earth terrace.\nHOLUA\u2014A course used for the ancient royal sport of sliding down steep\nslopes; also the sled itself.\nHONOKAHUA\u2014_Hono-ka-hua_, joined foundation.\nIAO\u2014_\u2019I-ao_, high; into the clouds.\nKAHULUI\u2014_Ka-hului_, a sea for drag-net fishing.\nKALAHAKU\u2014The proclamation of the Lord.\nKALAPAWILI\u2014_Ka-lapa-wili_, winding or twisting ridge.\nKALUAAWA\u2014_Ka-lua-\u2019awa_, the _\u2019awa_ pit. _\u2019Awa_ or _kawa_ is the\nwell-known traditional drink of Polynesia made from _Piper methysticum_.\nKALUAIKI\u2014_Ka-lua-iki_, small pit or crater.\nKALUANUI\u2014_Ka-lua-nui_, large pit or crater.\nKALUA O KA OO\u2014_Ka lua o ka \u2019o\u2019o_, the pit of the _\u2019o\u2019o_. The _\u2019o\u2019o_, now\nextinct, was an endemic, black, nectar-sipping bird. It had tufts of\nyellow feathers under each wing and at the base of the tail, which were\nused in featherwork.\nKALUA O UMI\u2014Umi\u2019s Cave.\nKAMOALII\u2014_Ka moa li\u2019i_, the little chicken.\nKA MOA O PELE\u2014Pele\u2019s chickens or chicken coop.\nKANAKA\u2014(_Haw. pl. kanaka_; _Eng. pl. kanakas_) human being, person, man.\nKAPA\u2014Tapa, a cloth made from the bark of _mamaki_ or _wauke_; formerly,\nclothes of any kind; bedclothes.\nKAPALAOA\u2014_Ka palaoa_, the _palaoa_ was a highly-prized pendant of\nwhale-tooth ivory, a symbol of royalty over the theft of which wars were\nwaged.\nKAUPO\u2014_Kau po_, to land at night. A variety of banana is given this\nname, probably after the place name.\nKAWILINAU\u2014_Ka wili nau_, literally, the twist of pain. This is the\nHawaiian place name for Bottomless Pit.\nKEAHUOKAHOLO\u2014_Ke ahu o ka holo_, a heap resulting from a landslide.\nKEANAE\u2014_Ke \u2019anae_, the large mullet.\nKEONEHEEHEE\u2014_Ke one he\u2019ehe\u2019e_, the sliding sands.\nKIHEI\u2014Shoulder covering; a rectangular fine mat or tapa used as a\nmantle.\nKIPAHULU\u2014Worn-out soil.\nKOLEKOLE\u2014Bright red, blood red.\nKOOLAU\u2014_Ko\u2019olau_, windward side.\nKUIKI\u2014_Ku iki_, a moment\u2019s stop, a short halt.\nKUMUILIAHI\u2014_Kumu \u2019iliahi_, sandalwood trunk.\nLAUULU\u2014_Lau \u2019ulu_, leaf of breadfruit tree.\nLELEIWI\u2014Carved figure on the bowsprit of a canoe or ship.\nLILINOI\u2014Goddess of Haleakala.\nMAKAWAO\u2014_Maka wao_, forest region.\nMAUI\u2014Contrary to popular belief and despite the similar spelling, the\nisland does not bear the name of the demigod. The name of the island is\npronounced mow-ee. This almost rhymes with an enthusiastic \u201cWOWIE!\u201d\nespecially as a Virginian might pronounce it. The _au_ must be treated\nin the fashion for Hawaiian dipthongs, that is, the crisp vowels are\nmore loosely connected than in the English, and a slight accent is\nimposed on the leading one. The demigod\u2019s name has three syllables, with\naccent on the second, i.e., the _u_. Thus, Ma-u\u2019-i.\nMAUNA\u2014Mountain.\nMAUNA HINA\u2014Gray mountain.\nMOI\u2014_Mo\u2019i_(A 19th Century word), King, queen, sovereign.\nNAMANA O KE AKUA\u2014_Na mana o ke akua_, the miraculous power, _mana_, of\nDeity, gods, or spirits.\nNA PIKO HANA\u2014The hiding place for navel cords.\nNIANIAU\u2014_Ni\u2019ani\u2019au_, the sword fern.\nOILI PUU\u2014_\u2019O\u2019ili pu\u2019u_, hill appearing, hill shot out.\nPALIKU\u2014_Pali ku_, upright cliff.\nPOHAKU PALAHA\u2014Broad stone; wide stone.\nPUKALANI\u2014_Puka lani_, heavenly entrance, chief\u2019s doorway.\nPUU\u2014_Pu\u2019u_, hill. This is contracted in some names to _pu_.\nPUU HELE\u2014_Pu\u2019u hele_, moving hill.\nPUU KAUAUA\u2014_Pu\u2019u ka uaua_, the stubborn hill; the tough hill.\nPUU KUMU\u2014_Pu\u2019u kumu_, stump hill.\nPUU MAILE\u2014_Maile_ is a fragrant vine, _Alyxia oliviformis_, used and\nloved like the laurel of Europe.\nPUU MANEONEO\u2014_Pu\u2019u mane\u2019one\u2019o_, itching hill. _Maneoneo_ means _barren_.\nPUU NAUE\u2014_Pu\u2019u naue_, trembling hill; loose or insecure hill.\nPUU NOLE\u2014Grumbling hill.\nWAIALE\u2014_Wai\u2019ale_, rippling water.\nWAI ANAPANAPA\u2014_Wai \u2019anapanapa_, sparkling water.\nWAIHOI\u2014_Wai ho\u2019i_, water that returned.\nWAIKAU\u2014_Wai kau_, water on a high place.\nWAIKEKEEHIA\u2014_Keke\u2019ehia_ means to twist and wind like a rivulet or\nstream, hence, the name is interpreted as crooked waters.\nWAILUKU\u2014_Wai luku_, water of destruction.\nThe exclusive Society of the Silversword (Hui o Ahinahina) invites you\nto become a member if you have visited the summit or the crater of\nHaleakala. Only one class of membership. Life: one dollar! By joining\nyou can help scientific study, interpretation, and display exhibits of\nthe Park. Exchange your dollar at the Park or at the office of\nSilversword Inn for a silvery, engraved certificate, suitable for\nframing. With pride you can hand it down to your grandchildren, a\nsouvenir of Haleakala.\nThe following publications contain information on the two sections of\nHawaii National Park. They may be purchased at either Park\nAdministration Office, at Silversword Inn, Haleakala, and at the Volcano\nHouse at Kilauea.\n_Volcanoes of Hawaii National Park._ (pamphlet) by Gordon A. MacDonald\nand Douglas H. Hubbard.\n  Hawaii Natural History Association, 1951.    50\u00a2\n_Ferns of Hawaii National Park._ (pamphlet) by Douglas H. Hubbard.\n  Hawaii Natural History Association, 1952.    50\u00a2\n_Trailside Plants of Hawaii National Park._ (pamphlet) by Douglas H.\nHubbard and Vernon R. Bender, Jr. Hawaii Natural History Association,\n_Plants of Hawaii National Park._ By Otto Degener, 1945.   $4.00\n  Illustrative of Plants and Customs of the South Seas.\n_The Land of Pele._ (pamphlet) by Nash Castro.\n  A historical sketch of Hawaii National Park.\n  Hilo Tribune Herald, Ltd., 1953.    85\u00a2\nCartons, cigarette butts, and other trash do not add to your enjoyment\nof the park. You can easily dispose of these so that they cannot become\nobnoxious to you and those who come after you. With the number of\nvisitors increasing each year, you can help protect and preserve the\nnatural scene by placing all paper and other refuse in containers\nprovided for this purpose and by refraining from picking or breaking\nflowers, plants, and natural specimens. _Won\u2019t you do your share?_ THANK\nYOU.\n  Roads\n  Halemauu Trail\n      Silversword Inn to:                    Miles\n          Halemauu Trail Junction              2.9\n      Haleakala Park Road to:\n      Holua Visitor Cabin to:\n          Kapalaoa Visitor Cabin               3.8\n  Sliding Sands Trail\n          Kapalaoa Visitor Cabin               5.8\n  Miscellaneous Mileages:\n      Holua Visitor Cabin to                   3.8 Miles\n      Kapalaoa Visitor Cabin\n      Kapalaoa Visitor Cabin to                4.0\n      Paliku Visitor Cabin\n      Paliku Visitor Cabin to Holua            6.3\n      Visitor Cabin (Direct Route\n      via Halemauu Trail)\n      Crater Overlook Trail                    350 Feet\n Circumference of the Crater                             20 Miles\n Extreme length of the Crater                            7\u00bd Miles\n Extreme width of the Crater                             2\u00bd Miles\n Elevation of the summit of Red Hill                 10,005 Feet\n Elevation of Park Boundary, Kaupo Trail              3,847 Feet\n Elevation of Park Boundary, Koolau Gap               6,450 Feet\n Area of the Haleakala Section, Hawaii National Park   26.7 Square miles\n[1]Emory, Kenneth P., An Archaeological Survey of Haleakala, Bernice P.\n    Bishop Museum, Occasional Papers, vol. VII, No. 11. 1921.\n[2]Ellis, William, A Narrative of a Tour Through Hawaii, or Owhyhee;\n    with remarks on the History, Traditions, Manners, Customs and\n    Language of the Inhabitants of the Sandwich Islands, London 1825.\n[3]\u201cVoyages of Discovery of Captain James Cook,\u201d vol. II, page 958. Ward\n    Luck, Bowden & Co., London.\n[4]L. A. Milet-Mureau, ed., \u201cVoyage de la Perouse Autour du Monde\u201d\n[5]\u201cHonolulu; Sketches of the Life, Social, Political, and Religious in\n    the Hawaiian Islands from 1828 to 1861,\u201d Laura Fish Judd; Honolulu,\n[6]THE MISSIONARY HERALD, v. XXV, August 1829, No. 8, pp. 246-251 (no\n    author).\n[7]Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition during the Years\n[8]Damon, S. C., Ascent of Haleakala, The Friend, vol. 5, pp. 116-117,\n[9]Bates, Geo., Sandwich Island Notes, pp. 116-117, New York, 1854.\n[10]Wilkes, Chas., Narrative of the U. S. Exploring Expedition, vol. 4,\n[11]Dana, J. D., U. S. Exploring Expedition 1838-42, vol. 10, Geology,\n[12]W. D. Alexander, On the Crater of Haleakala, Island of Maui,\n    Hawaiian Group. Am. Jour. Sci. 2nd ser., vol. 49, No. 145, P. 48,\n[13]Dutton, C. E., Hawaiian Volcanoes, U. S. Geol. Survey, 4th ann.\n[14]Dana, J. D., Characteristics of Volcanoes, New York, 1891, pp.\n[15]Daly, R. A., Igneous Rocks and the Depths of the Earth, p. 171, New\n[16]Cross, Whitman, Lavas of Hawaii and their Relations: U. S. Geol.\n    Survey Prof. Paper 88, p. 25, 1915.\n[17]Powers, Sidney. Geol. Soc. America Bull., vol. 28, p. 512, 1925.\n[18]Stearns, H. T., Origin of Haleakala Crater, Maui, Hawaii: Geol. Soc.\n[19]Degener, O., Plants of Hawaii National Park, p. 101; Flora\n    Hawaiiensis, Family 68, 1946.\n[20]Degener, O., Plants of Hawaii National Park, pp. 142-148.\n[21]Basic data for this section prepared under the supervision of D.\n    Elmo Hardy, Entomologist, University of Hawaii, to whom grateful\n    acknowledgement is made.\n[22]Perkins, R. C. L., Ent. Monthly Magazine, 32:195, 1896.\n[23]Myrick, E., Fauna Hawaiiensis, vol. 1, p. 145, 1899.\n[24]Swezey, O. H. and Degener, Otto. Insect fauna of the silversword and\n[25]Fauna Hawaiiensis; being the Land Fauna of the Hawaiian Islands.\n    Edited by David Sharp. Vols. I-III. Cambridge, England. 1899-1913.\n[26]Zimmerman, Elwood C. Insects of Hawaii. Vols. 1-3, 1948-1959. Univ.\n    of Hawaii Press, Honolulu.\n[27]Rev. A. O. Forbes, Hawaiian Almanac and Annual for 1881, p. 59,\n    Thos. G. Thrum, editor, Honolulu.\n    [Illustration: Silversword in bloom]\n\u2014Silently corrected a few typos.\n\u2014Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook\n  is public-domain in the country of publication.\n\u2014In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by\n  _underscores_.\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hawaii National Park: A Guide for the\nHaleakala Section, by George Cornelius Ruhle\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAWAII NATIONAL PARK: HALEAKALA ***\n***** This file should be named 57258-0.txt or 57258-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson and the Online Distributed\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\n[Illustration: In five minutes they dragged their young Indian friend\nfree of the lodged snow. (Page 169)]\n                  \u201cDick Kent with the Mounted Police\u201d\n                      \u201cDick Kent in the Far North\u201d\n                   \u201cDick Kent and the Malemute Mail\u201d\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                 _Made in the United States of America_\n                       DICK KENT WITH THE ESKIMOS\nMuffled from head to foot in hooded caribou shirts and bearskin\ntrousers, five persons slowly plodded across a vast tundra within the\nArctic Circle. Many days, by land and by boat from the Canadian coast,\nhad brought them to a point where they must go on with dogs only. And\nnow as they drove twelve big huskies to a long sledge filled with\nsupplies, all armed with rifles and two with revolvers, the fur-clad\nfigures presented a grim appearance upon the snowy bosom of that frozen\nwasteland.\nA hood rimmed with blue fox fur almost completely hid the face of the\nathletic figure breaking through the snow at the head of the dog team.\nBut one who knew him would have had little trouble in identifying that\ngraceful, swinging step as belonging to Dick Kent. He it was\u2014again on\nthe adventure trail, his dark, clear eyes shining and eager behind the\nsmoked glasses he wore to protect his sight from the glare of the\nsnow-reflected sun, which, though it was midday, hung low on the\nsouthern horizon, a ball of baleful red.\nBringing up the rear were Sandy McClaren, Dick\u2019s chum, and the Canadian\nIndian boy, Toma, an inseparable of the two American lads since they\nfirst had entered the north on a visit with Sandy\u2019s Uncle Walter, a\nHudson\u2019s Bay Company factor. The remaining two of the travelers were big\nmen, alert and vigorous, whose very appearance showed that they\nrepresented the authority of law and justice. They were officers of the\nRoyal Northwest Mounted Police, and under their furs reposed important\norders bearing the King\u2019s seal.\n\u201cHey, Dick!\u201d Sandy McClaren\u2019s shout sounded startlingly loud and high in\nthe icy air.\n\u201cBetter take a rest while I break trail,\u201d called the young Scotchman.\n\u201cI\u2019m not tired,\u201d declared Dick, but nevertheless he dropped back behind\nthe dog team, whose lolling, red tongues revealed how difficult was the\ngoing.\nSandy started forward to take Dick\u2019s place, but before he could pass the\nhuge Eskimo dog in the lead, one of the policemen had overtaken him.\n\u201cYou young fellows have been doing too much of this trail breaking,\u201d\nsang out Corporal Lake McCarthy.\nSandy was only too glad to give way to the big officer, and he quickly\ndropped back with Dick, where the heavy sledge, loaded with supplies,\npacked the snow and made snowshoeing comparatively easy.\nFor a time the chums trudged on without speaking, then, while they were\npassing a ridge of ice, which had been carved by wind and sun into queer\npatterns, Dick gave voice to a conviction:\n\u201cSandy, this looks as if it was going to be a dull trip. Here we\u2019ve been\nmushing north for a month and we haven\u2019t seen anything more dangerous\nthan caribou, ptarmigans and snowshoe rabbits.\u201d\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t be too sure just yet,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cUncle Walter was half a\nmind not to let us go on this trip. You know there was something\ndangerous in the wind or he wouldn\u2019t have felt that way about it. I\nasked him why the policemen were being sent up here, but he just kind of\nlaughed and said, \u2018Oh, nothing,\u2019 like he meant it was a whole lot.\u201d\nWhile they talked, the boys were bent over their snowshoes, and did not\ninstantly notice a shirring sound followed by the muffled plunk of an\nobject striking the packs on the sledge with considerable force. The\nfirst either knew anything unusual had occurred was when Dick chanced to\nglance up and caught sight of something protruding from the packs and\nthe rear of the sledge.\n\u201cStop the team!\u201d cried Dick excitedly.\nCorporal McCarthy\u2019s booming command was followed by a brief tangle of\nsnarling dogs, then the sledge came to a dead stop. All the members of\nthe party gathered about Dick Kent, who was pulling something from the\npacks.\nWhat he at last succeeded in extracting was a short, barbed spear, the\nhead made of whalebone lashed to a smooth spruce handle with reindeer\nsinews. The weapon evidently had been thrown from the top of the ice\nridge alongside which they had been sledging, and what was even clearer,\nthe spear arm of the hidden enemy had been exceedingly powerful and\nwell-trained. Instinctively, almost, all eyes were lifted to the brow of\nthe ridge, and the policemen drew their pistols. But nothing was to be\nseen save the barren crest of the icy hill.\n\u201cI\u2019ll go up and take a look around,\u201d Corporal McCarthy spoke briskly.\n\u201cJim!\u201d he turned to the other officer, \u201cyou stay here. It\u2019s possible\nthis fellow was an Eskimo, but again it may be one of the renegade Taku\nIndians that were reported as far north as this. I\u2019ll be back pretty\nquick.\u201d\nWith that the big policeman drew a 30.30 rifle from the sledge lashing\nand started up the icy slope of the ridge. The others silently watched\nhim disappear over the summit. At any moment they expected to hear the\nreport of a rifle. But the minutes ticked by and all remained silent. At\nfirst they were relieved, then their fears mounted. It was possible that\nwhoever had thrown the spear had other deadly weapons at his disposal.\nIf Corporal McCarthy were ambushed\u2014\u2014\n\u201cWell, it looks like I might be right about what I said a while ago,\u201d\nSandy finally turned and said to Dick.\n\u201cThat spear _did_ take the words out of my mouth,\u201d admitted Dick, \u201cbut\nwe can\u2019t be sure yet. Anyway, this is the first bit of excitement we\u2019ve\nhad on this freezing trip.\u201d He shivered a little as he looked at the\nspear. \u201cWhew! That thing didn\u2019t miss me more than four feet!\u201d he\nexclaimed. \u201cHis aim must have been for you and me, Sandy.\u201d\n\u201cLooks like him Eskimo spear.\u201d The low, throaty voice was that of Toma,\nwho had so faithfully stood by Dick and Sandy on their previous\nadventures in the north. The boys turned to find the young Indian\nexamining the weapon carefully.\n\u201cEskimos!\u201d The magic word leaped to the lips of Dick and Sandy almost\nsimultaneously.\nDick called to the policeman, who was repairing a trace on the dog\nharness. \u201cMr. Sloan, when are we going to see some Eskimos?\u201d\n\u201cCan\u2019t be long, lad, but\u2014\u2014\u201d Constable Jim Sloan\u2019s statement was cut off\nby a loud shout from the top of the ridge. All eyes were turned upward,\nand Dick and Sandy whistled. Bearing down upon them was Corporal\nMcCarthy accompanied by a strange figure.\n\u201cIt looks like you boys\u2019ll see an Eskimo sooner than I thought,\u201d resumed\nConstable Sloan, as he watched the Corporal draw nearer with a small\nman, swathed in furs, walking a little ahead at the point of the\nofficer\u2019s rifle. It was apparent that a captive had been taken.\n\u201cGot him easy,\u201d called the Corporal as he came up. \u201cHe was hiding behind\na lump of ice and thought I\u2019d pass him by. He\u2019s an Innuit alright.\u201d\n\u201cA what?\u201d Sandy turned to Dick.\n\u201cInnuits is what the Eskimos call themselves,\u201d replied Dick, eyeing the\ncaptive curiously. \u201cIt means \u2018the people.\u2019 I read a lot about the\nEskimos in school. Look, he has another spear.\u201d\nAll now gathered about the policeman, listening to his story of how he\nhad captured the Eskimo. Dick and Sandy were principally interested in\nthe appearance of this native of the polar regions. They found him to be\nabout Sandy\u2019s height, with light brown skin, and Chinese-like eyes. The\nhood of his caribou shirt had been pushed back and a heavy thatch of\nstraight black hair was revealed. The Eskimo\u2019s cheekbones were high like\nan Indian\u2019s and his skin was very oily looking. Constable Sloan, who had\nbeen detailed on the expedition principally because of his special\nknowledge of the Eskimos in their native haunts, was endeavoring to\ncarry on a conversation with the sullen fellow.\n\u201cHe won\u2019t talk much,\u201d the Constable turned to Corporal McCarthy. \u201cSays\nhis name is Mukwa and that four families of Eskimos are about a day\u2019s\nmarch from here, on the shores of a bay somewhere near Cape Richards.\nSwears he hasn\u2019t seen any white men, and claims he\u2019s an outcast of his\ntribe. I don\u2019t believe all he says. I believe he could speak English if\nhe wanted to.\u201d\n\u201cWell, we\u2019ll have to hold him anyway,\u201d declared the Corporal. \u201cThe\nfellow seems to be hostile, and maybe he\u2019ll talk after a while. If\neverything\u2019s ship-shape we\u2019ll mush on before it gets too late.\u201d\nConstable Sloan\u2019s thirty-foot dog whip cracked out over the team and the\ndogs set off, yelping eagerly. Corporal McCarthy took up the rear with\nthe Eskimo captive. There was little talking, since every member of the\nexpedition realized he must save his wind for the gruelling miles that\nmust be covered before they made camp.\nThough at that time of year there was no darkness at night, Dick and\nSandy felt that it was long past evening before Corporal McCarthy called\na halt. There was not enough vegetation for a campfire to be built, but\nthe policemen were forearmed with small oil stoves, for heat and\ncooking. It was not long before the dogs were secured for the night, and\nthe boys were hovering in the doorway of their tent over a bubbling pot\nof tea.\n\u201cTomorrow we ought to see an Eskimo village,\u201d Dick said, trying to keep\nhis teeth from chattering.\n\u201cIt\u2019ll be a great experience,\u201d Sandy rejoined, \u201cbut the farther we go\nthe more I wonder just why we are up here. Uncle Walter tried to cover\nup everything under that sham about him thinking we ought to see the\nEskimos, but they don\u2019t send the King\u2019s men up here for sight seeing.\u201d\nDick studied a moment, then replied: \u201cI haven\u2019t wanted to say anything\nuntil I was sure, but I believe now that I have it figured out right.\nYou know Corporal Thalman was sent up here a year ago to bring in a\nmurderer. The fellow was reported to be part Eskimo. Fred Mistak by\nname. I think the two officers with us are looking for Corporal Thalman\nand Mistak. They intend to leave us in some winter camp with plenty of\nmeat and fuel, while they do the dangerous business.\u201d\nSandy sniffed. \u201cI\u2019d like to see them keep me out of the fun.\u201d\n\u201cI feel that way too,\u201d agreed Dick, blowing on a cup of hot tea, \u201cbut we\nmustn\u2019t be stubborn about it. It\u2019s best that we mind our own business.\u201d\nConstable Sloan had finished preparing the evening meal of beans,\npemmican and biscuit, and the boys joined the rest of the party,\nconversation giving way, for the time, to other exercises of the jaws.\nImmediately after the meal was over everyone retired in their sleeping\nbags, except Toma, who was left to guard Mukwa, the Eskimo captive, for\nthe first part of the night. The wind had been steadily rising and now\nwas howling at terrific speed across the frail tents, carrying a burden\nof fine snow along with it.\nDick Kent dozed to the droning rattle of the icy particles upon the tent\nwalls. Sandy already was fast asleep. It was frightfully cold, and Dick\ndared not peep out of his sleeping bag without something over his ears.\nUncovered, they would have been frozen in a few seconds. As he lay\nthinking over the events of the day, he could hear faintly the voice of\nToma as he endeavored to quiet some whimpering dogs. Finally those\nsounds, too, died away and nothing remained except the whistle of the\ndriving gale, which soon lulled Dick to sleep.\nIt seemed to Dick he had been asleep only a moment when he awakened\nsuddenly, all senses alert, an unmistakable scream of anguish echoing in\nhis ears. Holding his breath, he listened, but the sound was not\nrepeated. He tried to recollect if he had been dreaming and was sure he\nhad not. No, from a sound slumber something had awakened him\u2014something\nwhose peril he sensed subconsciously, and which set his heart pounding\nfaster. An instant longer he listened, then, drawing his hood about his\nhead, he wriggled part way out of his sleeping bag.\nThe wind was blowing almost as hard as before he had gone to sleep, but\nnow and again it died down. During one of these lulls, Dick heard a\ngroan. With a start, he jumped up. He must find out that it was not\nmerely his imagination before he awakened the others. They needed sleep.\nCautiously, he grasped his rifle and crawled to the opening of the tent.\nHe drew back the tent flap and looked out. Toma\u2019s tent was the point\nthat attracted his attention first. Everything plainly visible under the\nmidnight sun, Dick could see that the tent\u2019s flap was closed. Then, out\nof the corner of one eye he detected a movement. A dark blotch appeared\non the snow in front of Toma\u2019s tent where the Eskimo captive had been\nleft, well tied with thongs. The dark blotch moved again. With a cry of\nconsternation, Dick suddenly galvanized into action and sprang forward.\nHe found Toma lying in the snow, a spear protruding from one of his\nthighs, and a red stain in the snow under the young Indian\u2019s head.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d came Corporal McCarthy\u2019s call, as he awakened and\nhurried out upon hearing the sound of Dick\u2019s voice.\n\u201cToma has been wounded!\u201d cried Dick.\n\u201cIs the Eskimo gone\u2014the captive?\u201d McCarthy answered his own question by\nsnatching back the flap of Toma\u2019s tupik. Yes, Mukwa was gone!\nA little later, a cup of tea having completely revived him, Toma told\nhis anxious listeners what had happened.\n\u201cI can hear nothing but wind,\u201d he said in his quaint throaty dialect. \u201cI\nam sit in tent\u2014Eskimo back inside. I think about my home, my mother. I\ndream. Think no harm come out of storm. Then I jump to see face looking\nat me. That fella throw spear. Hit me in leg. Somebody hit me on head\nsame time. All get black like night. Me think Mukwa\u2019s friends come git\nhim.\u201d\nA careful examination showed that the spear wound in Toma\u2019s leg was\nslight, the bearskin trousers having protected him, and aside from a\nlump on his head, the hardy young aborigine would soon be well again.\nBut there was no sleep after that. Dick and Sandy sat up with Toma,\ndrinking hot tea and listening to the mutter of voices from the\npolicemen\u2019s tent. Evidently, action could not be long off, since a\ncouncil of war was underway.\n                       THE FACE IN THE ICE WINDOW\nIt was four o\u2019clock next morning when Constable McCarthy ordered the\ntents struck, the sledges packed and the dogs harnessed. The wind,\nduring the sunlit night, had covered up all the tracks made by the men\nwho had freed the Eskimo captive, and little time was spent trying to\ntrace them.\n\u201cOnly Eskimos could have done anything in that blizzard,\u201d Dick remarked\nto Sandy, while he tightened sledge lashing.\nSandy did not reply, for at the moment Constable McCarthy gave orders to\nmush on, and across the icy drifts the dogs scampered northward.\nAll day the dog team labored on, stopped only now and then to breathe.\nDick and Sandy were thankful for these short halts, for hardy as they\nwere, the slippery going was exhausting. Toma was not troubled, however.\nThe young Indian probably could have out-traveled even the veteran\nnorthman, Jim Sloan, who had once trekked the ice floes of the frozen\nPolar Sea, six hundred miles from the north pole.\nToward evening the deep blue of the open sea could be seen far ahead,\nmarking the fiord or bay that was their destination. Sloan did a lot of\nreconnoitering from various high hills, but they had reached the ragged\ncoastline before the Eskimo village was sighted.\nConstable Sloan, who was to act as interpreter, advised them to make a\nhalt while he went forward alone and talked with the heads of the\nfamilies.\nDick and Sandy watched the big policeman make off toward the strange\ndwellings upon the shore of the fiord.\n\u201cThose snow houses must be igloos,\u201d said Dick, pointing. \u201cHow queer they\nare\u2014just the shape of bee-hives, with the little round holes at the\nbottom, too.\u201d\n\u201cI wonder where the people are,\u201d Sandy spoke up, \u201cand what is that queer\nsmell that seems to come from the igloos?\u201d\nDick could not answer the question. Corporal McCarthy laughed. \u201cYou\u2019ll\nsmell worse smells than that before we get away from these Eskimos,\u201d\nsaid the officer. \u201cBut what you smell just now is probably fresh walrus\nmeat, or seal blubber. The natives have been hunting all day, I suppose,\nand are almost all asleep now inside their houses.\u201d\nA moment after Constable Sloan had stopped before one of the igloos, a\nfigure crawled out of the tiny entrance. There seemed no sign whatever\nof hostility in the greetings exchanged by the policeman and the native.\n\u201cThat fellow doesn\u2019t seem to have the spear-throwing habit,\u201d observed\nSandy.\n\u201cNo, as a rule the Eskimos are a peaceful people,\u201d said Corporal\nMcCarthy.\nConstable Sloan, at this moment, turned and signalled them to come on,\nand when they reached the igloos, several other Eskimos had come out of\ntheir houses to satisfy their native curiosity. There were women and\nchildren among them.\n\u201cWhy, the older men and women look almost alike!\u201d exclaimed Sandy.\n\u201cI\u2019ve heard there\u2019s little difference in the appearance of Eskimo men\nand women,\u201d Dick replied, \u201cbut they say you can tell by the sizes of\ntheir hoods\u2014the women have extra big ones so they can carry their babies\nin them during mild weather.\u201d\n\u201cWell, boys,\u201d Constable Sloan turned to Dick and Sandy, \u201cI guess we can\ncamp here for the night anyway. Sipsa, the man I\u2019ve been talking to,\ngives us a hearty welcome, especially after I told him we had some\nshiny, new knives and hatchets in our packs.\u201d\n\u201cWhat I\u2019d like to do first is look around inside one of those snow\nhouses,\u201d said Dick. \u201cDo you suppose Sandy and I might go into one?\u201d\n\u201cI think I can fix that alright,\u201d agreed Constable Sloan, and turned to\nSipsa. Followed a few words in the Eskimo tongue. Sipsa seemed delighted\nat the opportunity to show the boys the inside of his strange home, and\nsoon Dick and Sandy were on their hands and knees, crawling through the\ndoor of a most unusual residence.\nThey found the interior of the igloo to be much larger than it appeared\nfrom an outside estimation, due to the fact that it was cut down several\nfeet into a solid snowdrift. A small, soapstone lamp, shaped like a clam\nshell, was burning, having a wick of moss which absorbed the seal oil\nfuel. The boys were surprised at the amount of heat the lamp radiated.\nThe furniture consisted of a long bench-like lounge, covered with\ncaribou and musk-ox hides. Here and there lay harpoons, knives,\nwhalebone dishes and spoons, and crude implements, the use of which the\nboys did not know. There were two windows with panes made of opaque ice.\nThe atmosphere was heavy with the strong smell of fresh blubber, and\nDick and Sandy did not care to remain inside very long.\n\u201cPhew!\u201d snorted Dick, as he reached the open air. \u201cI couldn\u2019t stand to\nlive in a smell like that.\u201d\n\u201cNor I,\u201d agreed Sandy, \u201cbut just the same I think one of those snow\nhouses would be just the thing for us to live in while in this cold\ncountry. The camp stoves would make plenty of heat, and we ought to be\ncozy as anything in an igloo that was minus that awful stink.\u201d\n\u201cUnless a skunk happened to slip into bed with us,\u201d added Dick drolly.\n\u201cLike to see the skunk that was fool enough to migrate north of the\nArctic Circle,\u201d laughed Sandy.\n\u201cWell, I haven\u2019t seen any that cared for icicles on their whiskers,\u201d\nadmitted Dick, still grinning.\n\u201cI don\u2019t like to change such a sweet smelling subject,\u201d Sandy rejoined,\n\u201cbut what do you say we start building ourselves one of those igloos\nbefore bedtime? I\u2019ll go ask Corporal McCarthy for help.\u201d\nThe Corporal thought the idea a practical one, and had Constable Sloan\nshow them how it was done.\nAt some distance from the Eskimo igloos, a huge, solid snowdrift was\nlocated. A number of blocks were cut out of this, leaving a hollow hole,\nperfectly round. The blocks that had been removed were then shaped and\nfitted with knives and built up over the cavity in the drift,\nformulating part of the walls and the roof. Spaces were left for a small\nentrance and for two windows, whose panes were formed by pouring melted\nsnow water over the open spaces. In the intensely cold temperature the\nwater froze as it dripped, the icicles finally joining to make an opaque\nwindowpane, crude but serviceable.\nIt was time to retire when Dick and Sandy finally moved into the igloo,\nand, crawling into their warm sleeping bags, prepared to pass their\nfirst night under the roof of one of the finest residences known to the\npeople of the great polar ice cap.\nBut sleep was slow in coming to them in their unusual surroundings, and\npresently they crawled out again and, to put in the time, tried broiling\nmusk-ox and walrus steaks over the oil heater. The musk-ox was quite\ntasty, if a bit strong from improper handling, but they scarcely could\nstomach the bitter, greasy walrus meat. Had the boys known what was in\nstore for them\u2014that some day soon they would think walrus almost as\ndelicious as roast chicken, they might not have looked upon their future\nadventures in the polar region with such eagerness. But, as the saying\ngoes, \u201cWhat they did not know did not hurt them.\u201d\nThe two policemen, together with Toma, whose leg wound was troubling him\nonly a little, came in to inspect the finished igloo before they again\nrolled into their sleeping bags and one and all pronounced it an ideal\nabode for cold weather. Before the visitors went out again, they vowed\nthat the next time they camped for any length of time they should live\nEskimo style.\nDick asked several pointed questions regarding what the policemen\nintended doing now that they had reached the northern coast, but both\nthe Corporal and the Constable were evasive. Dick was not the sort of\nlad who became meddlesome or troublesomely inquisitive, so he went no\nfurther. When Sandy and he were again alone, they discussed the approach\nof the polar winter, wondering how they would weather it and admiring\nthat heroic explorer of the past who had gone so far as to reach the\nnorth pole, making the name of Robert Peary famous for all time.\nA little later, when they had turned out their stove, preparatory to\ncrawling into their sleeping bags, they became aware how difficult it\nwas to sleep with the yellow radiance of the sun still pervading the\ninside of the igloo. The windows were not clear enough for the light to\nbe bright, but, nevertheless, the absence of darkness made them so\nrestless, they decided to get up and go outside.\nThey found the sun hanging low over the horizon, a pale ball of yellow,\npouring its rays over the bleak and desolate northland.\n\u201cHow strange it seems!\u201d cried Dick. \u201cJust think\u2014at Fort Good Faith it\u2019s\nnice and dark and maybe the moon is up. I wonder what the folks at home\nwould say if they knew we were at this very minute seeing the midnight\nsun.\u201d\n\u201cIt hardly seems possible we\u2019re a thousand miles farther north than\nwe\u2019ve ever been,\u201d Sandy spoke awedly.\nBut tired muscles and the intense cold soon made their eyes heavy, and\nin spite of the sun they went back to their sleeping bags.\nDick could not sleep, however. The sunlight, the excessive amount of\nblack tea he had drunk, and the exhaustive efforts of the day combined\nto keep him awake. He tossed in his warm bag wishing he had the ability\nto sleep as soundly and quickly as Sandy, whose snores he could plainly\nhear.\nThe oil stove had warmed the igloo quite thoroughly\u2014enough so that Dick\nfelt slightly uncomfortable, though it was more than forty below zero\noutside. He wriggled restlessly and looked out of his sleeping bag,\ngazing up at the white dome of the igloo ceiling. He was about ready to\nturn over and try harder to sleep, when he thought he heard something\nbrush against the igloo roof at a level with the snow outside. At first\nhe believed it was only a prowling dog, and was determined to ignore it,\nwhen there came plainly to his ears the crunch of a footfall in the\nsnow.\nOne of the ice windows was directly over the spot where Sandy was\nsleeping, and toward this Dick\u2019s attention was suddenly attracted as\nthrough a sixth sense. A shadow had loomed up in the tiny square\u2014the\nshadow of a face peering in!\nDick sat up with a start and grasped his rifle. Evidently, whoever was\nlooking in could see nothing, since it was darker inside the igloo than\noutside. Taking advantage of the prowler\u2019s inability to see, Dick picked\nup his rifle and pushed back the huge cake of snow which plugged up the\nsmall round door. Softly, then, he stole outside and commenced the crawl\naround the igloo toward the window through which he had seen the face.\nYet he must have made more noise than he thought, for at the moment he\nreached a point from which he could see the spying person, there sounded\na guttural outcry, and the crunch of running feet across the snow.\n\u201cHalt!\u201d cried Dick, leaping up and firing his rifle into the air.\nBut the fleeing culprit had a good start and he proved not slow on his\nfeet. Dick watched the dark form vanish in the dim sunlight, while the\naroused camp scrambled out to see what was wrong.\nCorporal McCarthy listened intently to Dick\u2019s story of what had\nhappened. The officer said little at the time, but presently he entered\nthe boys\u2019 igloo, calling in the Constable and Toma.\nWhen they all were comfortably seated, Corporal McCarthy addressed the\nboys:\n\u201cWhat has just happened, on top of the capture we made yesterday, makes\nme feel as if I ought to explain the real motive of this long trip. Your\nUncle Walter McClaren wanted me to keep you fellows out of trouble,\nprovided there was no real need of your services, but now that we seem\nto be right in the territory of the fellow we are after, it looks like\nI\u2019ll have to enlist you in the service of the mounted.\u201d\nDick and Sandy exchanged glances and became all ears, as the Corporal\nwent on:\n\u201cCorporal Thalman, an officer sent out ahead of us, has been either\nkilled or lost somewhere in this region, while trailing a half-breed\nEskimo murderer, called Fred Mistak. Sloan and I are after Corporal\nThalman, or what\u2019s left of him, and of course we intend to get Mistak.\u201d\n\u201cWhat did I tell you?\u201d Dick whispered aside to Sandy.\n\u201cWe will probably be up here for several months,\u201d continued the\nCorporal, \u201cand about all I\u2019ll expect of you fellows is to keep your eyes\nopen for a white Eskimo. Just a hunch of mine, and while you\u2019re doing\nthat, Sloan and I will look around for traces of Thalman. We\u2019ll all have\nto hunt, more or less, in the meantime, because we haven\u2019t enough meat\nin our supplies to last. Ought to be plenty of musk-ox further inland.\nFor the present we\u2019ll make this Eskimo village our headquarters. I guess\nthat\u2019s about all.\u201d\n\u201cWe understand,\u201d said Dick, and Sandy nodded importantly. Toma\u2019s\ninscrutable face did not express the excitement he must have shared with\nhis two young white friends.\nWhen the policemen departed a few moments later, they left behind them\ntwo sleepless boys, who could scarcely wait for the real beginning of\nthe man hunt.\n\u201cLook! Polar bear tracks!\u201d Dick\u2019s exclamation brought Sandy to his side\nin an instant and together they bent over a human-like footprint in the\nsnow, their rifles clutched tightly in mittened hands that already had\nbegun to perspire with the excitement of promised big game.\nIt was three days since the boys had arrived at the Eskimo camp with the\npolicemen, and the present found them hunting musk-oxen several miles\nfrom camp. Corporal McCarthy and Constable Sloan had gone to a\nneighboring Eskimo village, seeking information regarding the lost\nCorporal Thalman, and Toma had been left at headquarters to take care of\nthe dogs and keep a lookout for the \u201cwhite Eskimo,\u201d whose presence in\nthe vicinity had been suspected due to the incident of the whalebone\nspear, and to the spy who had looked in at the igloo window.\nThe policemen had not exercised bad judgment in leaving the boys alone.\nDick Kent and Sandy McClaren had proved to the mounted police how\ncapable they were of taking care of themselves in the savage northland,\nand the self-control they evidenced upon sighting the polar bear tracks\nwas ample proof that the dangers they already had coped with had\nstrengthened them for even more daring deeds.\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be very old,\u201d Sandy commented, in a whisper, after inspecting\nthe bear tracks a few moments.\n\u201cNot more than an hour, I\u2019ll bet,\u201d said Dick.\nBoth boys looked up and scanned the surrounding vicinity. They were on a\nlong, ice-caked slope strewn with boulders, which led down to shore ice.\nIn the distance was open sea water, appearing almost black due to the\ndim sunlight. There was no sign of life in evidence.\n\u201cLet\u2019s try to track him,\u201d Dick suggested.\n\u201cDo you think these rifles are of big enough caliber to kill a polar\nbear?\u201d Sandy asked, as they began searching for more tracks.\n\u201cYes, that .32 Special of yours and my 45.20 ought to do the trick\neasily enough. Remember, try to hit him in the soft spot under his ears,\nor right behind the shoulders.\u201d\nThe bear tracks were hard to follow since at times they led over hard\nice, or boulders, but now and again the huge animal had stepped in soft\nsnow or loose soil and left signs of his passage.\nFor nearly a quarter of an hour they followed the trail along the slope.\nIt finally led them to shore ice, which had been heaped up in huge\nmounds by the ocean waves during some Arctic storm.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to go slow here,\u201d cautioned Dick. \u201cThe bear may pop out from\nbehind any of these piles of ice. He\u2019s probably hunting seals or fish\nout at the edge of the water.\u201d\nScarcely had Dick spoken when there sounded a faint dog-like bark, and a\npuppyish whine.\n\u201cDid you hear that, Sandy!\u201d exclaimed Dick. \u201cThose sounds were made by\nseals. There must be a small herd of them near here.\u201d\nThey moved on cautiously toward the open water, rifles held in readiness\nfor instant use.\nA hundred yards from the water they heard the loud bellow of a bull\nseal, a number of frightened barks, a blood-curdling growl, and then the\nsound of bodies striking the water.\n\u201cIt\u2019s the bear!\u201d whispered Dick hoarsely. \u201cHe\u2019s attacked the seals.\u201d\nA moment later an arresting scene met their eyes, as they reached level\nice and saw open water a few yards away. A huge polar bear, his shaggy,\ngrayish fur dripping wet, was struggling out of the sea, holding in his\njaws a young seal which still was faintly crying. Further out in the\nwater a dozen seals were swiftly swimming toward an ice floe.\n\u201cGet back! He hasn\u2019t seen us,\u201d Dick said quickly, and the boys darted\nbehind a large ice cake.\nTogether they peered cautiously around the edge of their barricade. The\nferocious animal was out of the water now, shaking the water from his\nfur like a big dog. The young seal had ceased to struggle, and lay very\nstill at the bear\u2019s feet. In comparison with the tiny animal the polar\nbear seemed as large as a horse. Dick and Sandy quailed a little and\npressed more closely together.\nWhen the bear bent his head to nose over his kill, the boys quietly\nplaced their rifles to their shoulders and took aim. Then followed a\ntense moment while they waited for a movement that would expose the\nbear\u2019s most vulnerable points. At seventy-five yards they could not\nmiss.\nSlowly the bear picked up the seal in his jaws and paused an instant,\nseeming undecided as to what was the most comfortable place in which to\nenjoy his meal. Then two rifles cracked almost as one, and the great\nbeast dropped to his belly, the seal falling from his jaws. Dick fired\nagain swiftly, but Sandy jerked ineffectually at the reloading lever of\nhis rifle. His gun had jammed in his haste.\nA rattling growl came from the throat of the stricken polar bear, and\nwith an angry lunge, the great brute started for the point from which\nthe bullets had come. Dick fired three more times in quick succession,\nand a hundred feet from them the bear at last dropped and began to\nstruggle.\n\u201cWe got him!\u201d whooped Sandy.\nDick was about to echo his chum\u2019s triumphant cry, when an ominous growl\nfrom behind them froze the very blood in their veins with terror. As one\nthey whirled about. Down the slope to the shore ice charged another\npolar bear, almost a replica of the one they had just shot. The beast\nwas roaring its rage and was headed straight for the two young hunters.\n\u201cRun for your life!\u201d cried Dick, \u201cit\u2019s the bear\u2019s mate!\u201d\nAs fast as they could run Dick and Sandy set off along the shore ice,\nexceeding all previous records. They could hear the rattle of the bear\u2019s\nclaws on the ice as it came on in pursuit, and with each second the\nangry growls sounded nearer.\nPresently, Sandy began to fall behind in the race. Frantically, Dick\nurged him on, slackening his own pace to equal that of his slower chum,\nand while he ran like a frightened deer, all Dick\u2019s narrow escapes ran\nthrough his mind in swift succession, for he believed that he and Sandy\nwere doomed at last.\nIn a last desperate effort to save himself and Sandy, Dick determined to\nmake a stand with the last two cartridges in his rifle. It was a plan\nborn of despair, he knew, for two shots at a running target hardly could\nstop a beast of such massive strength and vitality and in such a\nferocious mood.\nIt was then that the boys noticed a change in the sounds of pursuit. The\nbear seemed to have fallen behind, his growls gurgling strangely in his\nthroat.\nWith renewed hope they ran on until a loud, familiar shout pierced the\nicy air from a point behind them. They looked back over their shoulders\nand came to a staggering halt. A hundred yards behind, the bear lay\nstruggling his last, the shaft of a harpoon protruding from its side,\nwhile above on the slope stood an Eskimo beckoning to them.\nThe gratitude of Dick and Sandy could not be expressed as they hurried\ntoward the Eskimo who had doubtless saved their lives.\nComing closer to the native, they recognized him as Sipsa, who had\nproved so exceptionally friendly at the village. He seemed to understand\nwhen the boys tried to thank him, and conveyed by means of many signs\nhow he had been scouting for walrus and seal when he had discovered the\ndanger Dick and Sandy had fallen into.\nThe boys followed Sipsa to the dead polar bear, and watched him draw out\nthe harpoon. So forcibly had the weapon been driven that it had passed\nalmost entirely through the bear\u2019s thick body. Dick and Sandy shivered\nas they examined the mighty jaws and terrible claws that but for Sipsa\u2019s\ntimely intervention might have crushed and torn them to shreds.\n\u201cAngekok, Angekok,\u201d Sipsa began repeating, while pointing at the dead\nbear.\nSandy looked blankly at Dick, who was searching his mind for the meaning\nof the word. At last he recalled it.\n\u201cHe means \u2018devil.\u2019 Angekok is the Eskimo word for \u2018almighty devil.\u2019 They\nbelieve in evil spirits, and he\u2019s trying to tell us there was a devil in\nthis bear.\u201d\n\u201cI guess he\u2019s not far from right,\u201d Sandy declared with genuine\nsincerity.\nPresently the Eskimo managed to convey to the boys that they must return\nto the village and get sledges with which to haul in the meat of the two\nbears.\nFeeling they had had plenty of hunting for that day, the boys were glad\nto consent to this, and all three started back toward camp, led by\nSipsa, who had gained the great respect of Dick and Sandy.\nTired, hungry and cold, the chums at last reached the Eskimo village,\nonly to find all in a state of confusion and uproar. Toma met them with\nan explanation of the excitement tumbling from his ordinarily reticent\nlips.\n\u201cSomebody steal um dog team an\u2019 sledge,\u201d said Toma. \u201cI in igloo, get um\nmeat cooked for supper. All Eskimo down by big water, ketch um seal.\nWhen I come out I see not so many dogs, an\u2019 one sledge not there. I\nhurry up, tell um Eskimos. They take dog team an\u2019 go after this fella\nwho steal dog team.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you didn\u2019t see the thief at all?\u201d asked Dick, gravely concerned.\nToma shook his head vigorously. \u201cHim come an\u2019 go like bad spirit. No\nhear, no see. I no like that kind thief.\u201d\nDick was puzzled at first, then spoke: \u201cSandy, I have an idea this is\nmore of the white Eskimo\u2019s work. He could have got away pretty quietly\nif he was a good hand with dogs, as I suppose he is. I\u2019m certain now\nthat Fred Mistak and the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019 are the same person. We\u2019ll find\nout.\u201d\n\u201cIn the meantime, let\u2019s eat,\u201d said Sandy.\nDick discovered that he had as keen an appetite as Sandy when in their\ncozy igloo he found a tasty meal prepared by Toma. Both boys were too\ntired to join the Eskimos, who in spite of the theft of the dog team,\nset out to skin and cut up the polar bears, leaving the camp deserted\nexcept for the three boys. Dick and Sandy were later to learn that not\neven a funeral could stand between an Eskimo and his hunting. When there\nwas meat to be had the natives dropped everything until the last bit of\nit was safely stored away. For wild meat was their only staple diet\u2014all\nthat kept them from starving to death, and during the real winter they\ncould hunt but little.\nThe boys had finished their supper and were relating to Toma, in detail,\ntheir narrow escape from the mad polar bear, when the barking dogs and\nthe sound of familiar voices interrupted them. They tumbled out of the\nigloo to find Corporal McCarthy and Constable Sloan. The policemen had\njust returned from a long, fruitless trek eastward, and the Corporal had\nfrosted his feet.\nWhat the boys had to say about the stolen dog team was of especial\ninterest to the officers.\n\u201cWithout a doubt Fred Mistak is hiding near here,\u201d commented Corporal\nMcCarthy, when comfortably seated in the boys\u2019 igloo, with his bare feet\nin a pan of snow to draw out the frost. \u201cSo far, I\u2019ll have to admit\nwe\u2019ve done little better than nothing, but we\u2019ll hope for better luck\ntomorrow\u2014\u2014\u201d Corporal McCarthy did not finish his sentence.\nA hoarse cry at the entrance of the igloo was the interruption, and into\ntheir midst tumbled an Eskimo, gibbering in a frightful manner, and\ngroveling on the floor as if he had lost his mind.\nIn the jumble of native words was audible the frequent ejaculation:\n\u201cAngekok! Angekok!\u201d\n\u201cHim one them three go after fella what steal dog team!\u201d Toma suddenly\nexclaimed.\n\u201cWhat!\u201d cried Corporal McCarthy. \u201cSloan,\u201d he wheeled toward the\nConstable, \u201cgo out and see if the other two have returned alright.\u201d\nConstable Sloan was out and back in a few moments. \u201cNot a sign of anyone\naround\u2014no dog team either,\u201d the Constable reported quietly.\nMcCarthy\u2019s face took on a grave expression, and his jaws hardened. \u201cAsk\nthe Eskimo what scared him?\u201d he directed Constable Sloan.\nBy this time the Eskimo had somewhat recovered his natural calm, yet he\nfrequently looked fearfully toward the igloo entrance, as if he feared\nsomething was coming in to get him.\nThe Constable\u2019s questions were brief and the Eskimo\u2019s answers prompt,\nthough his voice trembled from fright.\n\u201cThe Eskimo says it was the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019 that attacked them,\u201d\nConstable Sloan reported presently. \u201cHe says his two companions were\nkilled and the dogs taken.\u201d\nA deep silence fell upon all who had heard Constable Sloan\u2019s words. It\nwas several seconds before Corporal McCarthy spoke rapidly:\n\u201cGet ready for the trail. We leave here just as soon as we get a few\nhours\u2019 sleep. I\u2019m going to enlist Sipsa as a guide, and I\u2019ll get my man\nif I have to trail him clear to the North Pole!\u201d\nIt was thirty below zero the following morning when two teams of twelve\ndogs, each drawing sledges, loaded with supplies, departed from the\nlittle village of igloos. The warm breath from man and dog turned to\nvapor in the freezing air, and all were enveloped in a cloud of steam as\nthey trekked eastward along the coastline.\nCorporal McCarthy had found Sipsa willing to lead the party and had also\nenlisted the aid of two Eskimo dog drivers, Okewah and Ootanega. The\npoliceman had promised all of them large rewards in tools, rifles, and\ntents, provided they served him faithfully in pursuit of the \u201cwhite\nEskimo.\u201d\n\u201cI wonder how soon we\u2019ll pick up the trail,\u201d Sandy spoke from the depths\nof his frost-rimmed parka.\n\u201cNo telling,\u201d replied Dick through a cloud of steam, \u201cwe\u2019re now\nfollowing the tracks made by the Eskimo who came in last half scared to\ndeath. Corporal McCarthy believes these tracks will lead to the place\nwhere the white Eskimo and his men attacked those three Eskimos who went\nafter the stolen dog team.\u201d\nThe boys said no more then for the fast pace at which they were\ntraveling took all their breath. For two hours they drove eastward\nacross the snowfields under a gray cloud filmed sky. At the end of this\ntime they came to a narrow defile between huge blocks of ice that had\nbeen thrown up by the waves at high tide. They threaded their way among\nthe ice cakes for about a hundred yards when they came upon the scene of\na terrible tragedy.\n\u201cIt\u2019s the two Eskimos that failed to come back last night!\u201d Dick\u2019s\nhorrified exclamation was echoed by Sandy while the two policemen and\nthe Eskimos bent over the two huddled forms in the snow.\nThe Eskimos had been killed, and all about them were signs of a deadly\nstruggle. One sledge had been crushed, and its packing torn up and\nrifled of supplies. Two dogs lay dead, and prowling foxes had torn them\nto bits.\n\u201cIf this isn\u2019t the work of Fred Mistak, then I don\u2019t know my name!\u201d\nCorporal McCarthy cried, shaking his fist at the white silent hills.\n\u201cBut we\u2019ll get him, we\u2019ll get him, and he\u2019ll pay a big price!\u201d\nDick and Sandy thrilled at the words, and hastened to lend a hand to the\nburial of the bodies.\nTwo typical Eskimo graves were made by heaping small boulders upon the\ndead natives in a cairn-like mound, which would keep away the foxes,\nwhich had as yet scarcely harmed them, probably because the dogs had\nsatisfied them for the present. To agree with the superstitions of the\nEskimos the sledges, weapons and other paraphernalia of the deceased\nwere buried with the dead.\n\u201cNow that sorry business is over,\u201d Corporal McCarthy addressed the\nsomber company, \u201cwe\u2019ll pick up Mistak\u2019s trail and see how fast we can\nmush. Every man of you keep watch for an ambush. This fellow is about as\ndesperate as they make them, and we\u2019ve already had a taste of his\ntreachery. It\u2019s our hide or his and let\u2019s be careful it\u2019s his. Mush on!\u201d\nOnce more the dogs buckled into the harness and the long Eskimo whips\nlashed and crackled over many bobbing, white tails.\nBut it was a weary, half-frozen company that camped late that night\nwithout sighting the mysterious person they pursued. Dick and Sandy were\nalmost too tired to be hungry once they had thrown up their tupik, or\nEskimo tent made of sealskins. Not until they had drunk several cups of\nhot tea, an indispensable drink in the far north, did they feel anywhere\nnear themselves, and could discuss the doings of the day while munching\nhard biscuit and pemmican.\n\u201cI wonder where this trail will end?\u201d Sandy ventured dubiously.\n\u201cWish I knew,\u201d rejoined Dick, \u201cbut I think the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019 will lead\nus on a real old wild goose chase. He knows more about this country than\nany of us, and I wouldn\u2019t be surprised if he knew the lay of the land\nbetter than any of these Eskimo guides. Anyway the Eskimos can\u2019t be of\nmuch use in tracking that fellow because they believe the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019\nis an Angekok, or devil. They\u2019re so superstitious that if we once got\nvery close to the fellow we\u2019re chasing, they\u2019d probably lead us astray\nor run off and leave us alone.\u201d\n\u201cI guess they believe in ghosts alright,\u201d agreed Sandy, pouring another\ncup of tea.\nDick was about to continue the discussion, when he chanced to look\nthrough the opening of their tupik.\n\u201cLook at that!\u201d he grasped Sandy\u2019s arm tensely.\nWhat Dick saw was their three Eskimo hands gathered before their tupik\nin a private council of some secret purpose. The native drivers were\ngesturing excitedly with their hands and heads, evidently arguing with\nSipsa, the guide.\n\u201cThe drivers seem to be ready to quit right now, the way they act,\u201d\nobserved Sandy.\n\u201cWell, we can\u2019t go far without them, at least, without a guide. I ought\nto tell Corporal McCarthy about this.\u201d\nHowever, no more were the words out of Dick\u2019s mouth than the police\nCorporal approached the three Eskimos and scattered them to various\ntasks.\nPresently the Corporal joined the boys in their tent and confirmed their\nfears. \u201cI\u2019m afraid these Eskimos will desert us if we don\u2019t keep close\nwatch of them,\u201d said the policeman. \u201cWe\u2019ll all have to take turns on\nwatch tonight, tired as we are. I think Sipsa still is loyal, but the\nother two are doing their best to make him desert. The \u2018white Eskimo\u2019\ncertainly has them scared.\u201d\nIt was twelve o\u2019clock when Dick Kent\u2019s turn came to stand watch, and it\nwas with some difficulty that he shook the sleep out of his eyes when\nConstable Sloan spoke to him.\n\u201cDon\u2019t think we\u2019ll have any trouble tonight after all,\u201d the Constable\nreassured him. \u201cThe Eskimos seem pretty quiet, but be ready for anything\nand don\u2019t hesitate to call McCarthy and me if anything unusual turns up.\nGood night.\u201d\nDick shivered as he took his post at the entrance of the tupik with\nrifle in his mittened hands. The dogs were quarreling among themselves\nwhere they were leashed to the sledges, and from the Eskimos\u2019 tupik came\nthe muffled sound of voices. They did not seem as quiet now as Constable\nSloan had reported them. They were speaking in their native tongue and\nDick could not understand what they were talking about.\n\u201cI\u2019ll just keep close watch of their tent,\u201d he murmured to himself. \u201cIf\nany of them try to sneak away I\u2019ll call the policemen.\u201d\nAn hour passed, the Eskimos quieting down and apparently falling asleep.\nThe vast silence of the far north brooded over the little encampment,\nwhen Dick detected, out of the corner of his eye, a movement beyond the\nhuddled dogs. It was like a small animal that had moved across the top\nof a snowdrift. Dick\u2019s heart skipped a beat as he strained his eyes to\ncatch sight of whatever had appeared.\nA dog growled, and Dick spoke quietly to the big huskies, getting up and\ngoing to them. The leader of the team, a giant malemute, was sitting up,\nhis ears alert, and his nose wriggling as he sniffed the air uneasily.\n\u201cWhat is it, old boy?\u201d whispered Dick. \u201cWhat do you see?\u201d\nThe malemute growled ominously in answer, his hair rising along his back\nas he scented some sort of danger.\nDick looked carefully about camp again, seeking the cause for the dog\u2019s\nuneasiness, but all seemed peaceful enough. Impulsively, he decided to\nwalk out to the drift where he had seen the suspicious movement,\nthinking he would find there the tracks of some animal.\nThe drift was only about fifty yards from the sledges where the dogs\nwere tied, and Dick soon reached it. About to go around the drift and\ninvestigate, a weird, low call from behind him brought him to an abrupt\nhalt, the blood congealing in his veins at the strangeness of the sound.\nHe turned and looked back at camp. There came a soft swishing sound from\nthe snowdrift he had been about to inspect, and he whirled to see a dark\nform bearing down upon him. His startled cry was cut off sharply as\nsomething hard descended forcefully upon his head and he went down in\nthe snow, thousands of stars blazing before his eyes.\nBut Dick had not been knocked entirely unconscious. He lay still a\nmoment until his senses came back to him, feeling the person who had\nattacked him leap over him and toward camp. Then came the cries of the\naroused camp, mingled with the barking dogs, and above all the shriek of\na frightened Eskimo, followed by a wail of fear.\nStruggling to his feet, Dick saw Corporal McCarthy taking aim at two\nfleeing figures, and heard his rifle crack. But the policeman was firing\ninto the air, merely to frighten the attackers.\nSipsa was struggling in the strong arms of Constable Sloan, and from the\nmouthings of the frightened native Dick could make out that Sipsa had\nseen the \u201cwhite Eskimo.\u201d\n\u201cWhere are the drivers?\u201d Dick shouted to Sandy who was standing as if\nstunned, his rifle held in his hands.\nSandy seemed to regain his wits at that and dived for the Eskimos\u2019 tupik\nalong with Dick. They almost collided with Toma coming out of the tent.\n\u201cUm gone,\u201d said Toma, \u201cUm run away when seen um \u2018white Eskimo.\u2019\u201d\nThe truth of Toma\u2019s statement was soon revealed when a search of the\ncamp and the vicinity revealed no sign of the two drivers, other than\ntheir tracks in the snow.\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Corporal McCarthy, \u201cI guess the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019 knows how to\nscare the wits out of the natives. I don\u2019t suppose there\u2019s any use for\nus to chase our guides. They\u2019d be of no further use anyway. I hope Sipsa\ndoesn\u2019t take it into his head to follow them when he gets a chance to\nbreak away.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019re lucky to have whole skins,\u201d Constable Sloan remarked.\n\u201cMy head feels as if it was too big for my parka,\u201d said Dick, manfully\nfighting off a dizzy spell.\n\u201cHurry into your tent and I\u2019ll get the medicine kit,\u201d said Corporal\nMcCarthy. \u201cI want to get going again in an hour anyway. We ought to\nlocate some more drivers tomorrow, and if possible, overtake Mistak, the\n\u2018white Eskimo,\u2019 before he gets another lead on us.\u201d\nDick\u2019s head wound proved not serious. His heavy parka had protected his\nscalp from the blow, which had probably been made with a spear butt.\nThere was, however, a large lump about the size of an egg over his left\ntemple, and it was rather sore. But the young northman would not think\nof delaying the pursuit, and speedily forgot his slight wound as he\nhustled about making tea, while Sandy and Toma lent willing hands with\nthe packs and dog harnesses.\nWithin an hour dog and man had partaken of an early breakfast and were\nmushing grimly along a fresh trail under the midnight sun.\n\u201cThis was a wise move on our part,\u201d Dick told Sandy as they woddled\nalong on their snowshoes. \u201cMistak won\u2019t expect us to start out so soon\nand we\u2019ve a good chance to overtake him.\u201d\n\u201cI get the creeps whenever I think of that Eskimo stealing into camp\nthat way,\u201d rejoined Sandy. \u201cSuppose he is a kind of a devil.\u201d\n\u201cNonsense,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cjust because these poor, superstitious\nEskimos are frightened is no sign you should be. I\u2019ll admit he\u2019s a\ndangerous character, but he\u2019s no more than a human being, and the\nmounted will get him in the end.\u201d\nSandy was about to reply when an exclamation from one of the policemen\nsilenced him.\nThey had come out on the rim of an ice-bound ridge and below them\nstretched a vast valley bounded by the sea on the north and filled with\nage-old ice formations.\nDirectly below them were two dog teams, the drivers of which had\napparently not yet detected the mounted police.\nDick and Sandy could not forbear a cheer as Corporal McCarthy called for\nfull speed ahead and they drove the dogs yelping down the slope toward\nthe fugitives from justice. At that moment it looked very much as if\nFred Mistak\u2019s career of outlawry were doomed already, and the boys\nprepared themselves for a battle.\nWhen Dick and Sandy sighted the dog team of what they believed to be the\n\u201cwhite Eskimo,\u201d it could not have been more than a half a mile away,\nthough distances in the north are deceptive.\n\u201cWe ought to catch up with them in twenty minutes,\u201d Constable Sloan had\nsaid.\nBut they were not so fortunate. Either the \u201cwhite Eskimo\u201d had seen his\npursuers and was therefore driving faster, or his dogs were faster at a\nnormal pace of travel than the police dogs. At any rate, after thirty\nminutes, fast driving they were bumping along over a rough ice floor,\nthe team ahead nowhere in sight.\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be far to the sea shore now, can it?\u201d panted Sandy.\n\u201cNo,\u201d Dick replied, \u201cwe are probably traveling across a frozen bay now.\nThe ice may be hundreds of feet thick here, you know, and the sun never\ngets warm enough to melt that much ice.\u201d\n\u201cIt takes awfully cold weather to freeze salt water,\u201d Sandy opined.\n\u201cI should say it does!\u201d agreed Dick emphatically, \u201cbut you know most of\nthe ice around here is from old glaciers, and is fresh water ice. The\nglaciers slide down to the sea shore and break off, making ice-bergs and\nhuge ice floes.\u201d\n\u201cHey! Look out!\u201d Sandy\u2019s cry of warning came too late. Dick had been so\ninterested in his explanation of the ice formations that he had not\nnoticed how close he was to a treacherous slope of glassy ice. He\nslipped, and before he could catch himself he had whizzed down, flat on\nhis back, to come up with a bump in a hard snowdrift at the bottom of\nthe slope.\n\u201cAre you hurt?\u201d called Sandy anxiously, as Dick crawled out of the snow,\nsat up and began shaking himself.\n\u201cNo, but I\u2019ve got my parka full of snow,\u201d Dick called back, \u201cand it\u2019s\nnot a very pleasant feeling with melted snow trickling down your chest.\u201d\nThe policemen had stopped upon seeing Dick\u2019s accident, and they now\nwaited until he had climbed back up the slippery slope before they went\non.\nDick was not much the worse for the spill in the snow, since the heat of\nhis body under the warm clothing soon dried up the snow that had seeped\nin. He forgot the accident in anticipation of the excitement ahead, for\nat any moment all hands expected to sight the dog team of Fred Mistak.\nA breeze had sprung up, blowing in their faces, and they all could feel\nthe nearness of the sea by the dampness in the air. Then, suddenly, they\nrounded a huge heap of snow-covered ice to come upon a vast bay of open\nwater and a most discouraging sight. A mile out to sea, in native boats,\nthey could see their quarry vanishing toward a snow-capped, rocky\nisland.\nEven as they watched they saw one tiny figure raise up and wave a\ndefiant hand at them.\n\u201cWell, he\u2019s flown the coop this time,\u201d said Corporal McCarthy through\nhis teeth, \u201cbut we\u2019re not beaten yet\u2014not by a long shot. Sloan, bring\nSipsa here.\u201d\nDick and Sandy followed the Constable and the Eskimo guide to Corporal\nMcCarthy\u2019s side.\n\u201cTell Sipsa we must get Eskimo boats immediately,\u201d was the policeman\u2019s\ncommand. \u201cEnough boats to carry all of us along with our provisions,\ndogs, and sledges.\u201d\nWhen Sloan had explained this to Sipsa, the Eskimo shook his head at\nfirst, but finally seemed to offer some encouragement.\n\u201cHe says he\u2019s not sure he can find any Eskimos very near here,\u201d Sloan\nturned to Corporal McCarthy. \u201cBut he\u2019ll try. He says we\u2019ll have to take\na chance following the coast line.\u201d\n\u201cAlright, then, we\u2019ll take the chance. We\u2019ve got to have boats.\u201d\nBut luck was with them, for they had not gone on a mile when they came\nupon a dozen igloos in a sheltered nook. The tribesmen were at sea,\nhunting seals, and the women were scattered along the shore skinning and\ncutting up the meat.\n\u201cWe are in luck in some ways,\u201d called Constable Sloan, cheerfully, as\nthey drew up at the igloos. \u201cNow if we can only trade these fellows out\nof a few native boats, we\u2019ll be luckier still. Here comes a couple of\nmen.\u201d\nThe two Eskimos approaching from the beach, were evidently not at all\nafraid of the white men, for they came up smiling, perfectly unconscious\nthat they put forth a bad appearance with their clothing covered with\nseal blubber, grease and blood.\nSipsa immediately began talking with them, Sloan permitting him to do\nthe dickering for the boats.\nWhen the policemen had opened one of the packs and revealed some fine,\nshiney knives, kettles, and axes, the Eskimos became greatly interested,\nand one of them ran off to call the rest of the tribe.\nPresently they were all down at the sea shore looking over the native\nboats, or kayacks. Corporal McCarthy picked out one serviceable looking\nkayack, and two umiacks, or large boats, for the dogs and supplies. The\nkayack was about twenty feet long and twenty inches wide, covered with\nwater proofed skins, and made to seat one person in a hole in the\ncenter, over which was a flap that could be buttoned around the chin,\nmaking the boat almost water tight, even though it were capsized. The\numiacks were, however, flat-bottomed, hollow, and were ordinarily used\nin transporting women, children, and household goods by water. Corporal\nMcCarthy gave the Eskimo owners a large collection of knives, pots and\nhatchets for the boats and they seemed very well pleased with the trade.\n\u201cI\u2019ll take the kayack,\u201d instructed Corporal McCarthy. \u201cSloan, you and\nthe Indian lad take one of the umiacks and Dick, Sandy, and Sipsa the\nother. If we get a move on we can get our equipment loaded before Mistak\ngets too much of a start. He took his dogs so we\u2019ll have to take ours.\u201d\nNot more than a half hour later Dick and Sandy and the Eskimo guide put\nto sea in their umiack, a crude sail of caribou hide stiffening in the\nbreeze, while they plied a paddle to add to their speed. Constable Sloan\nand Toma followed immediately in the other umiack, while the Corporal\nsettled himself in the kayack, the last of the three.\nCorporal McCarthy soon passed the heavily loaded umiacks in his faster\nand lighter boat and signaled them to follow him.\n\u201cWatch out for the ice bergs and floes,\u201d called the corporal. \u201cIf you\nsee a walrus, don\u2019t shoot unless you\u2019re attacked.\u201d\nThe three boats strung out in a line headed toward the glacial island\nwhere they believed Mistak would land. In Dick and Sandy\u2019s boat were\nhalf the dogs and the two sledges, along with the stoves and liquid\nfuel. It was a heavy load for the unwieldy umiack, and Dick was not long\nin discovering that the dangers in arctic navigation were not to be\nscoffed at. Though from a distance the water seemed free from ice, close\nat hand the bergs could be seen rolling along, either submerged, or just\nabove the water. Sipsa took a position in the prow of the umiack, where,\nwith a long pole, he fended off the larger ice blocks. In the stern Dick\nplied a paddle, while in the center Sandy took care of the dogs and saw\nthat the cargo did not slip to one side and capsize the craft.\nAll went well until they reached rougher water a quarter mile from the\nshore. Here an ocean current carried them eastward in spite of all they\ncould do. Sandy fashioned himself a paddle from a snow shoe covered with\na piece of seal skin, and did all he could to help Dick in the uneven\nstruggle, but they moved steadily eastward toward a low headland that\nmarked that boundary of the bay. The island that was their destination\nnow lay several miles northwest of them, and a floe separated the two\numiacks. Corporal McCarthy was having all he could do to manage his\nkayack, which was being considerably buffeted about by the waves and\nice.\n\u201cMaybe we\u2019ll strike another current when we get close to that headland\neast of us,\u201d called Dick from the stern.\n\u201cI hope so,\u201d replied Sandy dubiously. \u201cThis sail isn\u2019t doing us much\ngood now though. The wind seems to have gone down suddenly.\u201d\nAt that moment Sipsa, the Eskimo guide, rammed his pole at a submerged\nice berg, and the pole slipped down into the water, forcing Sipsa to\nlose his balance.\nDick\u2019s cry of warning did no good. The Eskimo did the best he could to\nkeep his balance, then toppled head foremost into the chilly water.\n\u201cQuick, help him in, Sandy!\u201d cried Dick, \u201cwhile I hold the boat as\nsteady as I can.\u201d\nSandy dropped his paddle and hurried to the prow where Sipsa was\nstruggling about in the water. The Eskimo still retained a tight grip on\nhis pole, which had been the cause of his fall, and Sandy got a grip on\nthis. Soon Sipsa crawled, gasping and gurgling, into the umiack.\n\u201cWhew, close shave that!\u201d exclaimed Sandy.\n\u201cAnd maybe he\u2019ll freeze to death from that wetting,\u201d Dick added. \u201cSandy,\nyou\u2019d better get one of the heaters started so he can dry off.\u201d\nBut Sipsa, hardy Eskimo that he was, made it known, by various signs,\nthat he needed no heater, and took up his former position as if nothing\nhad happened. While the ducking might have been fatal for Dick or Sandy,\nit meant little to the guide since the season was what he called summer.\nOnce off the headland the current swept them northward as they had\nhoped, and also a breeze sprang up from the open sea. The sail filled\nand they began to make time toward the island. The floe which had\nseparated the umiacks had passed on and Dick and Sandy could see Toma\nand Constable Sloan coming along safely a quarter mile behind. Corporal\nMcCarthy was within speaking distance again and his voice boomed out\nover the water.\n\u201cWatch out for walrus! There\u2019s a big bull in here somewhere. Steer clear\nof him if you can.\u201d\nThe moment was a tense one for Dick and Sandy. Many a story they had\nheard of these giant inhabitants of the Polar Sea, and to meet one in\nhis native haunts was something they feared, yet hoped to experience.\nDick\u2019s eyes were fixed upon the water near at hand when something dark\nwelled up out of the clear blue depths and shot past the boat.\n\u201cThere he is!\u201d he cried.\n\u201cSure it was a walrus?\u201d Sandy hazarded breathlessly.\n\u201cIt must have been. It had big flippers and I think I saw tusks like an\nelephant\u2019s.\u201d\n\u201cMaybe it was your imagination.\u201d\nBut what happened next assured Sandy that Dick had not been using his\nimagination. A dark form heaved up out of the water almost under Sipsa\u2019s\nice pole. The umiack rocked dangerously and nearly upset the Eskimo. The\nboys got a clear look at the walrus this time for just a moment as the\nhuge creature reared out of the water and looked at them before it sunk\nout of sight in a whirlpool of bubbles.\nSandy snatched up his rifle, but Dick warned him to hold fire until it\nwas absolutely necessary.\n\u201cWas that the walrus?\u201d called Corporal McCarthy backing water with his\npaddle.\n\u201cYou bet it was,\u201d Dick shouted, \u201cand if he\u2019d been two feet nearer he\u2019d\nhave turned us over\u2014hey!\u201d\nDick said no more for at that instant the umiack, with its heavy load,\nwas hoisted upward out of the water from the impact of a powerful body\nunderneath. Sipsa tumbled backward from the prow, falling in among the\nwhimpering dogs. Sandy and Dick clung to their seats while the boat\ndropped back to the water with a heave and splash. Fortunately, the\numiack settled to an even keel without taking in too much water. But\nscarcely had they recovered from the nearly disastrous effects of the\nwalrus\u2019s first attack, when Sipsa shouted a warning from the stern.\n\u201cThere he is again\u2014coming at us from the front!\u201d shouted Sandy, throwing\nup his rifle as Dick snatched up his own.\nAs Dick took aim at the rushing mass of fur, tusks, and flippers, he saw\nCorporal McCarthy level his rifle from the kayack. The three rifles\nboomed almost as one. The walrus, hit hard, swerved and rolled in his\nmad attack, and in a whirl of water sank out of sight, leaving a red\nblot in the water behind him.\n\u201cHe\u2019s been wounded badly, if not killed,\u201d said Sandy pointing at the\nblood in the water.\n\u201cI hope he\u2019ll leave us alone anyway, but if he don\u2019t\u2014\u2014\u201d Dick tightened\nhis grip on his rifle.\nFor several minutes they watched, guns ready, for a renewal of the bull\nwalrus\u2019s attack, but the water disclosed no angry monster.\n\u201cI guess he\u2019s had enough,\u201d called Corporal McCarthy, \u201clet\u2019s get going.\nDo you see what\u2019s coming up from the east?\u201d\nDick and Sandy looked as the policeman directed, and their hearts jumped\nas if a hundred walruses were bearing down upon them, for, not a mile\ndistant, a dense Arctic fog was floating swiftly toward them, like a\nwall of gray smoke.\n\u201cA fog!\u201d cried Dick. \u201cGet that paddle, Sandy! If we ever get caught in\nthat fog we\u2019ll be lost sure!\u201d\nAfter they had first sighted the fog it did not seem more than five\nminutes before they were enveloped in it. They could not see ten feet\nahead of them, and the only way they had of knowing they were near one\nanother was by shouting. The wind lulled almost immediately and the\numiack began to drift straight north. In a few moments all hands were\nwet to the skin. All around them the icebergs and floes ground together\nwith growling, grating noises, like so many fierce animals.\n\u201cAhoy, there!\u201d came the muffled bellow of Corporal McCarthy through the\nheavy mist.\n\u201cHere!\u201d shouted Dick at the top of his lungs, the fog seeming to throw\nthe sound of his voice back into his face.\n\u201cKeep paddling to the right\u2014against the current,\u201d came the Corporal\u2019s\ncommand. \u201cSing out every few minutes so we can keep track of each\nother.\u201d\n\u201cAlright,\u201d shouted Dick, and behind came the fainter sound of Constable\nSloan\u2019s voice from the other umiack.\nProgress now became dangerous indeed. The boats seemed to have floated\ninto a patch of broken ice that threatened every minute to crush the\nfrail umiacks like so much match wood. Then, too, Corporal McCarthy\u2019s\nshouts were growing fainter at every repetition.\n\u201cWe\u2019re losing ground,\u201d called Dick to Sandy. \u201cWork harder. Keep moving\nto the right!\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019m trying to do,\u201d called back Sandy from the center of the\nboat, \u201cbut there\u2019s a big floe pushing us to the left. We can\u2019t seem to\nget around it. Sipsa is doing all he can to keep us from getting smashed\nup from the left. Look out!\u201d\nSandy\u2019s warning shout was accompanied by a violent jar that shook the\numiack from bow to stern.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve hit solid ice on the left!\u201d cried Sandy. \u201cWe\u2019ll be smashed\nbetween two floes.\u201d\nDick leaped up and, leaning over the side of the umiack, pushed on the\nice that was threatening to crush them against the floating ice on their\nright.\nBut his efforts were of no avail. The umiack shuddered as if about to\ncollapse under the pressure, then seemed to rise out of the water.\n\u201cThe ice has shoved under us!\u201d cried Dick, much relieved.\nDick was right. Luckily, the flat bottomed umiack had grounded on the\nflat ice pushing against her starboard side, and the higher ice on the\nlee was pushing her farther over. Presently they were almost entirely\nout of the water, the umiack half on the ice floe and floating along\nwith it.\n\u201cWe can\u2019t stay on this ice,\u201d called Sandy. \u201cIt will carry us out to sea\nand we\u2019ll be lost.\u201d\nDick thought rapidly. It was a moment for quick decision and daring\naction.\n\u201cSandy,\u201d he cried, his mind made up, \u201cstick by the boat. I\u2019m going out\non this floe and shove us off as soon as we get to open water on one\nside!\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019ll be drowned!\u201d wailed Sandy.\n\u201cGot to take a chance,\u201d was Dick\u2019s exclamation as he leaped over the\ngunwale of the umiack to the slippery surface of the fragment of floe\nupon which they had been lifted.\n\u201cTell me as soon as you see open water on the left,\u201d shouted Dick to\nSandy. \u201cThat\u2019s the only way we can get off this floe. I can\u2019t move the\numiack to the other side.\u201d\n\u201cAlright\u2014wait,\u201d Sandy replied tensely.\nThere followed many moments of suspense when each heart beat seemed\npainful. Little that Dick knew of the northern seas, it was enough to\nmake the truth clear to him. If the floe they had grounded upon joined\nwith the ice on the left, and the entire mass continued to move, they\nwould be carried out to sea and lost on an ocean where few ships had\never navigated. It had been several minutes since they had heard the\nvoice of Corporal McCarthy, and Constable Sloan\u2019s shouts were barely\naudible behind and far to the east. Proof enough that the ice was\ncarrying them out beyond the headland that marked the end of the bay.\nTensely Dick waited, digging his boots into little chinks of ice, ready\nto push off at a word from Sandy.\n\u201cWatch out!\u201d Sandy\u2019s low exclamation steeled Dick\u2019s muscles. \u201cWe\u2019re\nbreaking loose from the other ice. The crack is getting wider. Wait a\nminute! Alright, let her go!\u201d\nDick drew a deep breath and bent all his strength upon the heavy umiack.\nThere came a slight grating sound, a lurch and the umiack, with its\nheavy load, slid from the floe into the sea, as Dick leaped into the\nstern with a cry of relief.\nBut his relief was short lived, for when he lifted his voice to shout to\nthe other boats, there was no reply. Again and again he shouted, until\nhis voice was hoarse, listening intently in the intervals. Not even\nSloan\u2019s voice was audible now.\n\u201cWe must be way out of the course,\u201d Sandy said, discouraged.\nDick\u2019s spirits fell also, then when he was about to give up shouting, he\ncaught the sound of a voice again.\n\u201cThere\u2014that\u2019s Constable Sloan,\u201d Dick said tensely.\n\u201cBut it\u2019s funny\u2014he seems to be on the left of us,\u201d Sandy came back.\nThey listened again, often shouting together. This time they were amazed\nto hear the faint call from slightly to the right and ahead.\n\u201cThat must be Corporal McCarthy,\u201d Dick hazarded.\n\u201cNo, I think it sounded like Constable Sloan,\u201d Sandy disagreed. \u201cBut how\ncould he get over on the right so soon?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s the fog, I guess,\u201d Dick returned. \u201cThe sounds are deceiving.\nAnyway, we\u2019re certain this floe on our right is between us and the\nisland. We\u2019ll have to keep on working ahead until we can get around it.\u201d\n\u201cYou know what I think, Dick?\u201d Sandy\u2019s voice was exceedingly sober.\n\u201cWell, what do you think? I\u2019m at my wit\u2019s end myself.\u201d\n\u201cThis floe has caught on a larger block of ice somewhere on the other\nside and it has been turning slowly. Dick, we don\u2019t know where we\u2019re at\nnow.\u201d\n\u201cI hope you\u2019re wrong,\u201d Dick hastily rejoined, renewing his efforts at\nthe paddle.\nThe boys now proceeded to bury their misgivings in hard work on the\npaddles. Sipsa continued his work at the prow of the craft, his expert\nhandling of the pole avoiding many a dangerous ice jam. Yet as the\nminutes passed and they failed again and again to raise even a faint\nshout from the balance of the company, they became certain that they\nwere floating out to sea.\n\u201cOh, if this fog would only lift!\u201d Dick prayed.\nThey worked on for what seemed to them an hour longer, but which\nactually could not have been more than fifteen minutes, when it seemed\nthat Dick\u2019s prayer was about to be answered.\n\u201cIt\u2019s getting lighter, isn\u2019t it?\u201d Sandy said hoarsely, almost afraid to\nbelieve his eyes.\n\u201cI believe you\u2019re right,\u201d Dick answered, cheering up.\nSlowly the fog thinned until they could see almost a hundred feet around\nthem, then, as swiftly as it had enveloped them, the fog bank passed\nover, leaving them half blinded by the sudden glare of sunlight. Dick\nand Sandy cried out with joy, and rose up in the umiack to look about.\n\u201cThank heaven!\u201d Dick ejaculated as he feasted his eyes on a welcome\nscene.\nSandy had been right. The floe which they had been following had touched\nupon some solider object. It had been the island!\nThere was but a few yards of open water between them and the barren,\nsnow-piled shore, and the floe on their right made a strong bridge to\nland. Half a mile out to sea was the umiack of Constable Sloan and Toma,\nmaking good time toward land. Corporal McCarthy was waving his paddle to\nthem a quarter mile to the left, and, now that the fog no longer\ndeadened sound, his shout was borne to the ears of the happy boys.\nDick and Sandy immediately bent to the paddles and worked the umiack\ninto the beach, where they pulled it upon dry land and commenced\nunloading it.\nA half hour later the company was reunited, and Corporal McCarthy gave\norders to make camp, and to stow the native boats high and dry on the\nshore for future use.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to take a rest after that hard pull across the bay,\u201d the\npoliceman explained. \u201cBut while you fellows fix something to eat, I\u2019ll\ntake a run along the shore and see if I can\u2019t find where Mistak landed.\nI\u2019d like to know more about this island we\u2019ve landed on, too.\u201d\nWhen Corporal McCarthy was gone, Dick, Sandy and Toma set to work with\nalacrity to help Constable Sloan make camp. They were so hungry that\ntheir mouths watered when they fed the ravenous dogs their allotment of\nfrozen fish.\n\u201cI could eat whalebone and like it,\u201d Dick said to Sandy as he watched\nConstable Sloan pouring beans into the melted snow water, and listened\nto the simmering of the tea pot.\n\u201cThat\u2019s nothing,\u201d Sandy retorted. \u201cI know now why a goat can eat tin\ncans.\u201d\nConstable Sloan did not wait for Corporal McCarthy\u2019s return before he\ncalled all hands to the food he had prepared. Perhaps he sympathized\nwith the boys, but it was true he ate as hungrily as they did, all the\nwhile telling them stories of his experiences in the land of the long\nday and the long night.\n\u201cIt hardly seems possible we\u2019re actually seeing the midnight sun,\u201d Dick\nsaid, when the edge was off his appetite.\n\u201cThe way my eyes feel, I sure feel it\u2019s a fact. Do your eyes feel\nstrained and tired, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cYou bet they do. But how would it feel if we had as strong sunlight as\nthey do in the south?\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019d probably go blind,\u201d Sandy opined.\n\u201cThere\u2019s hardly a doubt about that,\u201d said Constable Sloan. \u201cBut wait\ntill you experience the long night, and see the moon go around and\naround in the sky, for day after day, not seeing anything but the stars,\nand then only when the sky is clear.\u201d\n\u201cDo you think we\u2019ll be up here that long?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cWell, you never can tell,\u201d Constable Sloan replied evasively, as if he\nhad said more than he intended.\nAfter the meal the boys immediately crawled into their sleeping bags and\nfell into a sound slumber. They did not awaken when Corporal McCarthy\nreturned, several hours later, and did not know he had returned until\nthey were awakened to find the dogs harnessed to the sledges and\nbreakfast awaiting them.\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you wake us up so we could help get ready to start?\u201d Dick\nasked the policemen.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got a long hard trip ahead of us,\u201d returned the Corporal, \u201cand\nyou fellows needed your rest. I found Mistak\u2019s trail two miles east of\nhere. He\u2019s started inland and not only that, but it looks like he\u2019s\ncrossed a glacier which seems to cover part of the interior of the\nisland.\u201d\n\u201cDid you hear that?\u201d Dick turned to Sandy. \u201cWe may have to cross a\nglacier.\u201d\n\u201cThat suits me better than floating around among these icebergs in a\ncaribou hide boat,\u201d Sandy replied with spirit. \u201cI like to have my feet\nunder me, and dry land under my feet.\u201d\n\u201cIn other words you\u2019re a land lubber,\u201d laughed Dick.\n\u201cI guess I am,\u201d admitted Sandy, strapping on his snowshoes.\nA little later the little company pulled out of camp, and set off at a\ngood pace, Corporal McCarthy in the lead. After following the seashore a\nlittle way they cut inland at an angle, and after about an hour\u2019s\nsledging struck the trail made by a dog team and three men.\nAt this point they made a halt while Corporal McCarthy went ahead to\nlook over the land before they advanced. The reason for this move was\nquickly evident, for towering over them, at a distance of less than half\na mile, was a mass of ice that marked the beginning of a glacier,\nprobably miles and miles in extent.\nDick and Sandy were awed by the very immensity of the towering ice. The\nfact that they might find it necessary to brave those treacherous\nheights on the trail of the \u201cwhite Eskimo\u201d tested their courage to the\nutmost. But the boys were not the sort that back down when danger is\nclose at hand. Truth to tell, they loved action and danger more than was\ngood for their own safety.\n\u201cThere comes the Corporal,\u201d Dick called out presently, his sharp eyes\nhaving caught sight of a fur parka behind an ice hummock.\nPresently the policeman came fully into view and waved for them to come\non.\n\u201cThe trail leads over the glacier,\u201d called the Corporal when they were\nwithin hearing distance.\nDick and Sandy hurried forward after the dogs, their hearts hammering at\nthe promise of the excitement ahead.\nImmediately upon approaching the foot of the glacier Dick and Sandy\ncould see what a dangerous struggle was to be theirs in attempting to\nscale the mountain of ice. For hundreds of years the ice had frozen\nthere, layer upon layer, filled with great holes and cracks, its own\ngreat weight forcing it to move toward sea level.\n\u201cI don\u2019t see how we\u2019re ever going to climb it,\u201d Sandy gasped.\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t either,\u201d admitted Dick, \u201cbut Mistak must have got to the\ntop, and anything he can do, the King\u2019s policemen can do.\u201d\n\u201cHeap big mountain ice,\u201d commented Toma. \u201cKetchum sore head if slide\ndown to bottom.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d Dick could not help but laugh at Toma\u2019s remark in spite\nof the seriousness of the task ahead of them.\n\u201cWell, boys,\u201d Constable Sloan came forward, interrupting them, \u201cwe\u2019ll\nhave to use man power now. Here\u2019s a good chance for you fellows to test\nyour biceps. There are six of us, so that leaves three to a sled. Sipsa,\nToma and myself will take the first sledge\u2014that leaves you boys and the\nCorporal for the second. It won\u2019t take much head work, but lots of\nbackbone. Let\u2019s go!\u201d\nDick and Sandy watched, with interest, the starting of the first sledge\nup the steep incline, men and dogs straining with every ounce of\nstrength in them. When at last they disappeared around a huge knob of\nice and snow, they sent a lusty cheer after them, and set to work\nthemselves to push their sledge up.\nIt took a half hour of pushing and hauling before they reached a point\nthat was level enough for them to rest comfortably.\n\u201cMuch more of this and I\u2019ll turn to water,\u201d panted Sandy, throwing back\nhis parka and revealing the perspiration standing out in huge drops that\nfroze almost as soon as they came in contact with the air.\n\u201cBetter keep that parka over your head,\u201d cautioned Corporal McCarthy. \u201cA\nlittle too much of this air when you\u2019re overheated will frost your\nlungs, and you know what that means.\u201d\nSandy remembered that frost bitten lungs often brought on more serious\nailments, and hurriedly bundled up his face.\nAn hour more of strenuous climbing brought them to a point half way up\nthe wall of the glacier. They could see the first sledge going up far\nabove them, like a caterpillar tank, the dogs and men pushing and\npulling it appearing like so many ants hauling a gram of wheat to their\nhome hill.\nDick took a deep breath and looked down, grasping Sandy\u2019s arm to call\nhis attention to the vast scene that lay below them. Far away they could\nsee the mainland which they had left the day before. The open water\nglittered like diamonds where the floating ice lay, and the beach of the\nisland seemed more like a ribbon than a piece of land.\n\u201cIt makes me dizzy,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cYes, but there\u2019s something inspiring about it,\u201d returned Dick. \u201cIt\u2019s\ndesolate and frozen and lonely, but just the same it\u2019s beautiful because\nit\u2019s so clean and white and still.\u201d\n\u201cI guess you just about hit the nail on the head that time,\u201d spoke up\nCorporal McCarthy, who was standing just behind them. \u201cBut there\u2019s death\nin that beauty. I hope you boys never have to see all of what I mean.\nNow let\u2019s get to work on this sledge.\u201d\nRefreshed by their rest, the boys buckled down to the job with a will,\nand for considerable distance all went well as before. Then, when they\nwere just reaching a point where they might breathe again, the rope\nwhich the policeman was pulling on broke loose from the sledge, and with\nthe shock of the freed weight, Dick slipped, the sledge sliding back\nupon Sandy who was pushing from behind. For an instant the sturdy Scotch\nlad held the full weight of the heavy sledge, then with a faint cry of\ndismay, he started down, the sledge on top of him.\n\u201cOh, Sandy!\u201d Dick gave a shout of anguish, as, slipping and sliding, he\nheld on to the rope he had been pulling on.\nCorporal McCarthy leaped down to Dick\u2019s aid, but the sledge had gained\nmomentum and, white faced, they could only hang on hoping the sledge\nwould catch on the rough ice before it began to turn over.\nFaster and faster the sledge began to slide, pushing Sandy before it,\nhis shirt pinched under the runners, and dragging the frantically\nstruggling two after it.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to stop it before it reaches the edge of that shelf!\u201d cried\nCorporal McCarthy. \u201cIf it ever goes over the edge, Sandy is gone!\u201d\nBut they had started a miniature avalanche of ice and snow by their\nstruggles and this rolling along underfoot made firm footing impossible\nto find.\nOne last heave they gave backward on the remaining rope as the sledge\nstruck the edge of the ice shelf. They heard a heavy crash, then\nsilence.\nDick looked up from where he clung to the steep incline, the sledge rope\nclutched in his hands. Stunned by fear for what had happened to Sandy,\nwho had disappeared, he watched Corporal McCarthy pick his way\ncautiously down to the sledge. The rear end of the runners had stuck in\na fissure, bringing the sledge to a stop not more than a foot from the\nedge of the shelf below which they knew not how far the drop was.\nAs if it were all a bad dream, Dick watched the policeman look over the\nsledge, under it, and all about, then lie down on his stomach and peer\nover the shelf. The significance of that move and what it might mean in\nregard to Sandy\u2019s fate, brought Dick to his feet, and in two agile leaps\nhe was at the policeman\u2019s side.\nThe drop under the shelf was only about twenty feet, provided an object\nfalling from it caught on a second projection of ice and snow. Beyond\nthat there was a frightful depth to a small plateau.\n\u201cSandy! Sandy!\u201d Dick called at the top of his voice.\nCorporal McCarthy\u2019s somber expression showed that he thought there was\nlittle use in shouting, but he presently uttered an exclamation of\nastonishment.\nThe snow on the lower shelf directly below the point where the sledge\nhad lodged, had moved!\n\u201cLook!\u201d cried Dick, in a glad shout.\nFrom the snow on the shelf protruded one arm, then another, and a moment\nlater the snow plastered figure of Sandy rose up, hip deep in soft snow.\n\u201cHold on while I get a rope!\u201d shouted the Corporal.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll haul you back up,\u201d seconded Dick. \u201cAre you hurt much?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m alright,\u201d came Sandy\u2019s shout, a bit faint, but welcomely spirited.\n\u201cGot a few bruises is all.\u201d\nThen Corporal McCarthy was back with a rope, and was paying it out over\nthe shelf. Sandy quickly got hold of his end and fastened it about his\nwaist. In a moment the combined strength of the two on the ledge had\nhauled Sandy to the safety of the shelf where the sledge had lodged.\n\u201cGee, I was never so glad to see anybody in my life!\u201d exclaimed Dick,\nbanging his chum on the back with a lusty hand.\n\u201cHey, watch out where you are hitting me,\u201d complained Sandy. \u201cThat\nsledge made me sore all over when it shoved me down that bank. And, say,\nI thought I was gone when I rolled over that shelf.\u201d\n\u201cLad, you\u2019re one of the luckiest fellows that ever lived,\u201d Corporal\nMcCarthy put in, \u201cbut now let\u2019s tie into this sledge again and not let\nthose fellows ahead of us beat us to the top too far.\u201d\nAn hour more of back-bending toil and they joined Constable Sloan and\nthe others, who already had reached the top of the glacier.\nWhile they all rested, Dick and Sandy looked curiously about them. Level\nice, covered with snow, stretched for considerable distance on either\nhand. Long, zigzag cracks, or fissures, formed curious designs on the\nglacier\u2019s summit; while now and again they could hear a deep rumble,\nlike distant thunder, which, Constable Sloan said, was due to new cracks\nforming in the ice, and sometimes caused by a fragment of the glacier\nbreaking off and falling into a fissure or into the sea far away across\nthe island.\nCorporal McCarthy was not long in locating the trail made by Fred\nMistak\u2019s dog team. They had taken virtually the same path up the wall of\nthe glacier that the fugitive had taken, and so were not far off the\ntrail.\nSoon they were hurrying onward, carefully avoiding the deep, dangerous\nchasms in the ice whenever possible, and when necessary, bridging the\nnarrow cracks with their sledges.\n\u201cI\u2019d hate to fall into one of those cracks,\u201d Dick said in a low voice to\nSandy.\n\u201cMe, too,\u201d Sandy agreed. \u201cI wonder what\u2019s at the bottom of them.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve heard there are rivers of running water under these glaciers,\u201d\nreplied Dick, \u201cand that scientists have found the fossils of ancient\nanimals in the huge caves which the water forms.\u201d\n\u201cGee, just think! The land under this glacier must be just like it was a\nhundred years ago. Makes me feel creepy to think of those giant reptiles\nthat used to wander around right under where we\u2019re walking.\u201d\nDick was about to reply when Corporal McCarthy stopped the teams at the\nedge of an expanse of ice that had been swept clear of soft snow by\nwater and wind.\nThe boys quickly saw that Mistak\u2019s trail vanished here, as if it had\ngone up in smoke. The ice was as hard as flint, and sledge, dogs, and\nmen had passed over it without leaving a mark.\n\u201cToma, you stay with the dog team,\u201d ordered Corporal McCarthy, \u201cthe rest\nof us will scatter out and circle this expanse of smooth ice. We can\npick up Mistak\u2019s trail where he strikes soft snow or brittle ice.\u201d\nThe plan was carried out but after an hour\u2019s fruitless search the\nCorporal called them all back to the sledge.\n\u201cIt looks as if we\u2019ve lost Mistak\u2019s trail for the present. He must have\nmade directly for this spot knowing he could throw off the scent.\u201d\n\u201cThe hard ice ends up in a lot of fissures and ice caverns,\u201d spoke up\nConstable Sloan. \u201cIt\u2019s possible the Eskimo may be hiding out in one of\nthe caves, waiting for us to go on.\u201d\n\u201cWell, if he is we\u2019ll fix that. I\u2019ll go on a little way with you and\nwhen we get in among the ice hummocks on the other side of this level\nstretch, I\u2019ll drop out and watch for him to come out. The rest of you go\non across the glacier, and make camp at some convenient spot. If I have\nany luck, I\u2019ll overtake you and let you know.\u201d\nAfter Corporal McCarthy had left them Dick and Sandy found themselves\nfollowing the sledge along a ridge of snow covered stones and gravel\nwhich ran along the ice cap farther than they could see. Following this,\nthey found the ice sloping steadily downward, while the ridge, or\nmoraine, rose steadily higher. Presently they could see on the distant\nhorizon the blackish blue of the open sea, broken by the massive crests\nof floating bergs.\nThe sky had become overcast in the last hour and the temperature had\nfallen considerably.\n\u201cWe\u2019re in for a bad storm,\u201d Constable Sloan announced, his voice\nbetraying some anxiety. \u201cAs soon as we get down to the seashore we\u2019ll\nbuild some tight igloos. Tents won\u2019t stand the wind that\u2019s coming.\u201d\nA little later they eased the sledge down a last steep incline and found\neasier going at the foot of the long ridge of glacial drift that had now\ngrown to massive proportions. The glacier proper was now behind and on\ntheir left, beyond the ridge. They had crossed only a fragment of it in\nreaching what they believed to be the northern shore of a large island.\n\u201cLook, Sandy, over there on that big floe to the northeast!\u201d exclaimed\nDick, pointing.\nSandy\u2019s eyes followed Dick\u2019s directing finger and widened at what he\nsaw. A large herd of seals dotted the ice and adjacent water. Now and\nagain the animals dived into the water, throwing up a shower of spray.\nFaintly, as they drew nearer, they could hear the grunting barks of the\nadult seals.\nSipsa seemed excited at the proximity of the seal herd, and began\njabbering to himself.\n\u201cWhat is he saying?\u201d Dick asked Constable Sloan.\n\u201cHe means that here is good hunting, and that he ought to tell his\npeople about it. The Eskimos depend altogether for their food upon\nhunting, and when there\u2019s game and good weather they consider it the\nsame as sacrilege to procrastinate. They can\u2019t figure out why a white\nman wastes his time doing anything else.\u201d\nThe first signs of the coming storm interrupted Constable Sloan. A fine\nhard sleet came sifting down out of the leaden sky, cutting their faces\nlike hundreds of tiny knives.\nReaching a large drift that appeared ideal for making igloo blocks,\nConstable Sloan called a halt, and everyone set to work cutting snow\nblocks with the long knives brought along for that purpose.\nBy the time they had completed two igloos, a wind had sprung up and the\nsleet had thickened. Though the huge glacial ridge shielded them from\nthe full force of the wind, still it shipped and whirled with such force\nthat they had to seek the shelter of their lately built snow houses.\n\u201cI hope McCarthy doesn\u2019t get caught out in this blizzard,\u201d said\nConstable Sloan when they were squatted about a camp stove, crowded into\none igloo for added warmth. \u201cHe ought to be coming in any time now.\u201d\nThey were in considerable suspense for several minutes, until, outside,\nabove the howling of the wind, they heard Corporal McCarthy\u2019s booming\nshout. Constable Sloan hurried out and helped into the igloo an almost\nunrecognizable figure. The Corporal was covered with clinging ice from\nhead to foot and resembled some gigantic snow man.\n\u201cWell, Mistak didn\u2019t show himself if he really was in hiding on the\nglacier,\u201d reported the Corporal. \u201cThe storm drove me in or I\u2019d have\nwaited longer. Tomorrow, if the storm lulls, we\u2019ll look again. The\ntrouble is all traces of his sledge will be covered up by this storm.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019d better establish a base of supplies here,\u201d advised Constable\nSloan. \u201cThe boys can do some hunting to help out on the meat problem,\nwhile we comb the island for Mistak.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s face took on a disappointed expression at this announcement, and\nhe looked at Dick as if he wanted him to do something. But Dick shook\nhis head, and presently whispered mysteriously:\n\u201cI have a hunch we\u2019re not going to lose out on the man hunt.\u201d\nSandy had to be satisfied with that until he got Dick alone and pumped\nhim for details.\nThat night the boys slept the sleep of utter weariness, while the storm\nbeat and buffeted futilely at the dome of their warm igloo.\nIt was two days before the blizzard died down and the little snowbound\ncompany were permitted to leave their Eskimo houses for any length of\ntime. Dick and Sandy found almost a new world awaiting them when they\nburrowed like two badgers out of their snug retreat into the polar\nsunlight.\n\u201cWhere are the sledges and dogs?\u201d Sandy wanted to know.\n\u201cCan\u2019t you see everything has been buried?\u201d Dick retorted. \u201cWe\u2019ve got\nsome tall snow shoveling to do before we can get at our supplies.\u201d\nConstable Sloan soon found the dogs. Each of the faithful creatures was\ndeep in a nest of snow, with only a tiny hole to breathe through. The\nbeasts were gaunt with hunger, and whined and slavered at the mouth\nwhile the policeman began digging out the supplies.\nIt took several hours of hard work to dig out the camp, and when\neverything was in good shape, Corporal McCarthy drew the boys aside:\n\u201cConstable Sloan and myself are going back on the glacier with ten days\u2019\nsupplies to see if we can\u2019t pick up Mistak\u2019s trail again. We\u2019ll leave\nyou with Sipsa to take care of the camp and do some hunting. Sipsa will\nshow you how to kill and cut up seals and walruses, which we\u2019ll need for\ndog meat if we don\u2019t have to eat them ourselves before we finish our job\nup here. Don\u2019t overlook the musk-oxen. We saw signs of them on the\nisland and they\u2019re about the best eating a white man can find up here.\u201d\n\u201cSuppose we see Mistak. What do you want us to do?\u201d\n\u201cLay low and keep out of trouble,\u201d cautioned the policeman. \u201cWe\u2019ll be\nback in ten days at least and whatever you\u2019ve discovered about Mistak\u2019s\nwhereabouts we\u2019ll put to good use.\u201d\nThe policemen soon had a sledge of supplies and one dog team ready for\nthe trail. Waving farewell to the boys they started out, disappearing up\nthe long slope that led to the glacier. In one way Dick and Sandy were\nglad to be free to command their own movements, yet again, with the\nexperienced policemen gone, the vast frozen land presented an even more\nsinister appearance. A hundred forebodings surged up in the breasts of\nDick and Sandy, but they manfully fought them down, preparing\nimmediately to go seal hunting.\nSipsa had brought along several harpoons, and he began working on these\ndiligently. He made the boys understand by signs that he was not yet\nready to go seal hunting, and they left him alone after growing tired of\nwatching the Eskimo\u2019s deft fingers manipulating a whetting stone.\nDick suggested that they go down to the sea shore, and all three of the\nboys set off in that direction. They found the tide rising, and for half\nan hour amused themselves by skipping stones across the shallow water,\nand throwing at the small ice cakes floating farther out. Dick and Toma\nwere about tied at hitting their mark, but Sandy was far the more expert\nat skipping stones. The Scotch lad could skip a choice flat stone as far\nagain as he could throw it, and though Dick and Toma tried again and\nagain to equal Sandy\u2019s prowess, they finally were forced to give up, so\ntired were their arms.\n\u201cLet\u2019s walk along the shore a ways,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWe may find something\ninteresting.\u201d\nA hundred yards farther on they passed out of sight of the camp, and ran\ninto a flock of eider ducks who took to the water upon their approach\nwith the prettiest nose dives they had ever seen. Toma\u2019s sharp eyes\nlocated some nests on the shore, and they procured a few fresh eggs and\na good many old ones.\n\u201cLeave the old eggs where they are,\u201d Dick said, as Sandy was about to\nsee how far he could throw one. \u201cWe don\u2019t want to destroy what will be\nlittle eider ducks some day.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right, Dick,\u201d Sandy agreed. \u201cI just didn\u2019t think.\u201d\n\u201cHim nice an\u2019 soft\u2014make um warm nest,\u201d Toma spoke up, running his\nfingers around in one of the duck nests.\nDick picked up some of the fine, white feathers with which the nest was\nlined. \u201cYes, these are about as soft feathers as are known. The Eskimos\ngather and trade them to the white men for tools and things. In the\nUnited States we call it eiderdown.\u201d\nThey wandered on down the shore to the point where the great glacial\nridge west of their camp extended into the sea. The ridge sloped off\ninto the water in a long slope at the foot of which the waves rumbled\nand thundered, dashing the huge icebergs this way and that as if they\nwere toys. Occasionally they could hear the distant noises of the\nglacier as fragments of it fell into the sea, or when its slow movements\ncaused huge cracks to form in its depths.\nDick led the way a short distance up the slope toward a dark knob that\nwas sticking up through the snow and ice.\n\u201cI wonder if that isn\u2019t one of the meteors they say are in the polar\nregions,\u201d he said. \u201cRobert Peary, the great explorer, brought back some\nfine specimens to American museums. This does look like it might be a\nvery small one.\u201d\nThey stopped at the protuberance and inspected it curiously.\n\u201cIt looks like melted iron to me,\u201d Sandy declared. \u201cIs that what meteors\nare made of?\u201d\n\u201cYes, a form of iron,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cIt\u2019s called meteoric iron.\nScientists claim it is about the hardest iron which has been found in a\nnatural state. In the sky it is heated to a liquid state by the friction\nof falling through the air, then when it strikes the earth\u2019s atmosphere\nit cools suddenly and explodes with a loud report, lighting up the\ncountry for miles and miles.\u201d\n\u201cWhy do more meteors fall in the polar regions than in the other zones?\u201d\ninquired Sandy, meditatively fingering the meteoric rock.\n\u201cI don\u2019t remember having read the exact reason, and I\u2019m not sure that\nmore do fall up here, but if there are more it must be because the\natmosphere is so much colder. The meteors explode much higher in the\nsky, then lose their velocity and so fall to the earth\u2019s surface near\nthe pole.\u201d\n\u201cWell, the glacier seems to have pushed this meteor up here,\u201d said\nSandy, \u201cso there\u2019s no telling where it actually fell.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cbut say, this big stone gives me an idea.\nLet\u2019s gather some big rocks and build a monument here, leaving some kind\nof record inside of it. That\u2019s the way all the Arctic explorers did.\nThey called them cairns.\u201d\nSandy and Toma quickly showed how enthusiastic they were by starting to\ngather stones of a good size. These they built up in a solid circle near\nthe meteor until they had an erection about a foot high.\n\u201cNow for the record,\u201d said Dick, and drew from his pocket a small\ncalendar with which he had been keeping track of the days. Sandy dug\ndown in the ample pockets of his caribou hide shirt and found a\nsoft-nosed rifle cartridge. With a hunting knife they trimmed this to a\npoint, improvising a crude lead pencil. Then on the back of the card\nboard that had supported the calendar leaves, Dick wrote under the day\nand year:\n  \u201cWe are on an uncharted island, a few hundred miles west of Greenland,\n  near the Arctic Circle. This is the farthest north we have ever been\n  in the service of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, or the Hudson\u2019s\n  Bay Company. If something happens and we never return, anyone who\n  reads this will know just about where we were when we disappeared.\u201d\nUnder this, all three of the boys proudly signed their names, Toma\npainfully inscribing his to the accompaniment of a twisting tongue,\nwhich he chewed industriously at every move of the pencil.\nWhen the record was finished Dick folded it carefully and stowed it in\nthe center of the cairn, placing a heavy stone upon it. Then they\ngathered more stones and built up the cairn to a height of about five\nfeet, rounding it off nicely at the top, forming a receptacle for the\nrecord that would stand for years and years.\n\u201cIt\u2019s about time we were getting back to camp the way my stomach feels,\u201d\nDick said when they had finished, and were standing off at a distance\nappraising their handiwork.\nSandy\u2019s and Toma\u2019s stomachs seemed to agree perfectly with Dick\u2019s and so\nthey started off on the back trail, glancing over their shoulders every\nnow and then at the cairn.\nBy the time they reached camp their appetites had grown immensely, and\nthey voiced the hope that Sipsa would have something prepared to eat.\nBut there was no smell of hot tea or frying meat. In fact, as they\napproached they could see no sign whatever of the Eskimo guide.\n\u201cHe must be in one of the igloos,\u201d Dick hazarded.\nBut a search of the igloos disclosed no Sipsa. The boys shouted his\nname, but only a faint echo from the wall of the ridge answered them.\n\u201cHere are the harpoons he was working on when we left,\u201d Sandy announced\npresently, after they had looked more carefully about the camp.\n\u201cYes, he must not be far away, but still\u2014\u2014\u201d Dick\u2019s mind turned to the\ntrouble they had had with Okewah and Ootanega. \u201cI wonder if he found\nsome sign of the white Eskimo and was frightened away like the others.\u201d\n\u201cBut Sipsa didn\u2019t seem so superstitious as those two,\u201d Sandy contended.\n\u201cI thought so, too, until now. Anyway, we\u2019ll not worry about it until we\nget something under our belts to worry on.\u201d\nSandy volunteered to act as cook and with the addition of the fresh\neider duck eggs he had gathered, a very satisfying meal was prepared.\nSipsa had not yet put in an appearance when the boys finished the last\nscrap of food, and Dick suggested they search farther for him.\n\u201cMaybe um white Eskimo git him,\u201d Toma suggested gruesomely.\n\u201cYou might be right,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cIt would be just like that villain\nto ambush our guide. But I believe Sipsa was pretty well able to take\ncare of himself. He seemed much smarter than the average native, and I\nbelieve he\u2019s more civilized.\u201d\nSandy chose to stay behind when Dick announced that someone must watch\nthe camp while they sought the whereabouts of Sipsa, and Dick and Toma\nstarted off with their rifles. At first they circled the entire camp,\nlooking for the prints of Eskimo sealskin boots or his snowshoes. They\nfound no signs, however, and came to a halt on the sledge trail made by\nthe policemen hours before.\n\u201cMaybe Sipsa followed the sledge path,\u201d Dick said, as Toma and he stood\nthere contemplating the next move. \u201cYou\u2019re good at trailing, Toma; see\nif you can\u2019t find out whether three instead of two pairs of snowshoes\nfollowed this sledge.\u201d\nToma bent over, his keen eyes glancing hither and thither along the\npacked snow. Only a moment he studied, then he straightened up. \u201cThree\npair snowshoes go long here,\u201d he declared positively.\nDick had perfect confidence in Toma\u2019s judgment, and was sure they had\nfound just the direction taken by Sipsa when he left the camp. As the\npolicemen had departed over the same path over which they had crossed\nthe island, Dick believed it possible that Sipsa might have taken it\ninto his head to return to his people.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll follow his tracks for a ways,\u201d he voiced his decision at last. \u201cI\nwant to make sure that Sipsa stuck to the back trail. If he hasn\u2019t\nturned off half way up the glacier, then I\u2019m pretty certain he\u2019s decided\nto go back to his people. In that case he has such a start on us that\nabout all we can do is let him go.\u201d\nWith this purpose in mind Dick and Toma started out along the sledge\ntrail. An hour\u2019s steady travel without mishap failed to discover any\ndeviation in Sipsa\u2019s progress.\n\u201cHe may run into the policemen,\u201d Dick finally spoke. \u201cIf he does,\nthey\u2019ll send him back in a hurry.\u201d\n\u201cI think him go home alright,\u201d was Toma\u2019s brief reply. \u201cMebbe him no\nlike work for white man.\u201d\n\u201cWell, that was a good one, Toma,\u201d Dick grinned. \u201cI suppose you\u2019ll be\nquitting us next.\u201d\nThe young Indian turned a pair of black inscrutable eyes upon the white\nlad, for whom he had risked his life so often. Dick could feel that he\nwas rebuked without hearing Toma say a word. He stretched out his hand\nand placed it on the Indian boy\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean it, Toma,\nhonest I didn\u2019t. I was only joking. I know you\u2019d never desert Sandy and\nme.\u201d\nThe ghost of a smile traced the young Indian\u2019s dark face and Dick knew\nthat Toma had forgiven.\n\u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s much use going any further,\u201d Dick resumed after\nan interval of silence. \u201cI don\u2019t want to leave Sandy alone too long.\u201d\nThey were just about to turn back when something attracted Toma\u2019s keen\neyes.\n\u201cStop heap quick!\u201d ejaculated Toma under his breath.\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d\n\u201cThink um fox. Him watch us from top big rock up there.\u201d\n\u201cOh, I see him now,\u201d Dick replied eagerly. \u201cHe\u2019s only about a hundred\nyards off, too. We need that pelt. Let\u2019s both get a bead on him.\u201d\nQuietly the two knelt on their snowshoes and leveled their rifles.\nCrack! Crack! the rifle shots echoed in the hills.\nThe fox leaped high in the air, and ran like a streak toward the top of\nthe slope where he had been sighted.\n\u201cLet him have it again!\u201d cried Dick, firing rapidly.\nToma\u2019s reloading lever was working as fast as Dick\u2019s and a veritable\nhail of lead was kicking up the snow about the fleeing fox.\nJust when the young hunters felt they had failed to bring down the fox,\nthe animal whirled and began to bite himself, as if something had stung\nhim.\n\u201cWe got um,\u201d grunted Toma.\nSure enough, the fox dropped to his side and after kicking spasmodically\nfor a few seconds remained still. One or more of their bullets had\nreached the mark and together the boys hastened up the slope to examine\ntheir kill.\nThey found the animal to be a fine specimen of the northern blue fox,\nwith whose skin the Eskimos trimmed many of their warmest fur garments.\nToma drew his hunting knife from its sheath and began methodically to\nskin the fox, while Dick stood by admiring the beauty of the fur.\n\u201cI wish I could take that pelt home to mother,\u201d he said half to himself.\nToma looked up and sniffed. \u201cHuh, why you take um blue fox for your\nmother? Wait till you ketch um seal. Him worth heap more. I give my\nsister black fox skin robe one time. She use um for wipe feet on by\ndoor. She like um red wool blanket best.\u201d\nDick had a hearty laugh at Toma\u2019s expense, but the young Indian could\nnot see anything funny in what he had said.\nHowever, the lads started back to camp on the best of terms, carrying\nthe blue fox pelt with them.\nWhen they came in sight of the igloos they were wholly unprepared for\nwhat met their eyes. Speechless and terror stricken they stood and\nstared.\nTwo huge polar bears were mauling and crushing the igloos and camp\nparaphernalia, and Sandy was nowhere to be seen!\nEven the dogs had run away before the attack of the ferocious brutes,\nnow apparently enjoying their game of destruction.\n                        AN INDIAN BEDTIME STORY\nSeveral moments passed before Dick could recover his presence of mind,\nso great was the shock he had received upon discovering the savage\nmarauders that were destroying their camp. A vision of Sandy\u2019s mangled\nform sprang up in his mind, and he covered his eyes and groaned. But he\nwas not one to let mere imagination long affect him when action was\nneeded.\n\u201cTake the bear on the right, Toma,\u201d his voice came clear and steady.\n\u201cThey\u2019ll probably attack us as soon as we fire. Ready, aim, fire!\u201d\nThe report of the rifles and the sting of the well placed bullets\nbrought the polar bears back on their haunches, and they whirled to face\nwhatever enemy had attacked them. But Dick and Toma had fallen on their\nstomachs in the snow immediately after firing, and the bears could not\nsee them. The great beasts turned and renewed their wrecking of the camp\ndunnage, whereupon Dick gave the order to fire again.\nNow badly wounded, and puzzled because they could not see where the\nburning missiles came from, the bears began lumbering around in a\ncircle, growling savagely.\nDick and Toma fired once more from their prone and hidden position and\nthe bears decided the territory was too hot for them. Leaving a trail of\nblood drops behind them, they trotted off up the slope of the glacial\nridge, disappearing among the numerous boulders strewn upon the slope.\nNo more were the bears gone than Dick and Toma rushed to the torn up\ncamp, calling Sandy\u2019s name. At first there was no reply and in the\ndeath-like stillness Dick felt an icy chill of horror steal over him as\nonce more he imagined what had befallen Sandy. Then, very faintly, there\ncame an answering shout, seeming to come out of the snow-smothered earth\nitself.\n\u201cSandy, where are you!\u201d Dick cried gladly, looking everywhere but\nfailing to see any sign of his chum.\n\u201cJust a minute, and I\u2019ll be with you,\u201d came the voice again,\nunmistakably Sandy\u2019s but for some reason half-choked and indistinct.\nThen, out of a big snowdrift a hundred yards from camp, popped Sandy,\ncovered from head to foot with snow. Dick and Toma ran to meet him,\noverjoyed at his safety.\n\u201cI thought those bears had finished you sure,\u201d Dick said, much relieved.\n\u201cWell, they weren\u2019t far from doing just that,\u201d Sandy retorted drily. \u201cI\nwas looking through the packs for a tin of tea, a little while ago, when\nI felt that something was behind me. I looked around and there were\nthose two bears looking at me as if they were hungry. They weren\u2019t more\nthan thirty feet from me, and I\u2019d left my rifle in the igloo. You can\nbet I didn\u2019t stand in that spot very long. I made a flying start right\nstraight ahead, and when I reached those holes in the snow where the\ndogs have been sleeping, I dived head first right into a big one, and\ndug myself further in. Maybe I wasn\u2019t scared. I expected every minute to\nhear those bears digging in after me. About when I was pretty near\nsmothered in the snow I heard you start shooting. Say, you came just in\ntime. I\u2019d have suffocated in that burrow in about two minutes more. And\nI believe I\u2019d have passed out right there rather than show myself to\nthose bears.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t forget to keep your rifle close to you after this,\u201d Dick\ncautioned, though now that the danger was over he was amused at Sandy\u2019s\nexcited relating of his unique escape from the bears.\n\u201cBear meat heap good eat,\u201d Toma spoke up. \u201cMaybe one them bear die\nsomewhere in rocks. We go see, huh?\u201d\n\u201cNot on your life,\u201d Sandy declared emphatically. \u201cI\u2019ve seen all the\nbears I want to for to-day. I\u2019ll be dreaming about bears chewing on me\nfor a month.\u201d\nDick laughed. \u201cI don\u2019t blame you, Sandy, but I think Toma\u2019s idea about\nfollowing the bears is a good one. We need meat, you know, and you can\nsee by the blood on the snow around here that one of them at least might\nhave been wounded bad enough so that he\u2019ll die later.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, you fellows go ahead. I think I\u2019ve had about all the trouble\nI\u2019m going to have today, so you needn\u2019t worry about me.\u201d\n\u201cI guess you have, alright,\u201d Dick called over his shoulder as he set out\nafter the bears. \u201cWe won\u2019t be gone long.\u201d\nToma and Dick followed the plain trail left by the bears clear up the\nridge to the east of the camp. But they did not catch sight of their\nquarry until they were some distance out on the flank of the glacier on\nthe other side of the ridge.\nThe young Indian then called Dick\u2019s attention to a movement ahead of\nthem. They saw one of the bears climbing to the top of a heap of ice,\nand crouched in hiding until the great beast had passed out of sight.\nThough they waited several minutes, a second bear did not appear, and so\nthey thought it safe to go on.\nNot far from where they had sighted the one bear they discovered why the\nother had not appeared. He lay stone dead in a little hollow in the ice.\nAn examination showed that two of their bullets had pierced the animal\u2019s\nlungs. Only an animal of iron stamina could have traveled so far with\nsuch serious wounds.\nCutting a huge haunch of steak from the bear\u2019s hindquarters, the young\nhunters started back, their mouths already watering in anticipation of\nfresh bear steak.\nIt was nearly eight o\u2019clock by Dick\u2019s watch when they reached the igloos\nonce more, to find that Sandy had been busy in their absence and had\nrepaired much of the damage done by the polar bears.\nTwo hours later, snug in a warm igloo, Sandy requested Toma to tell them\na bedtime story from his stock of Indian lore. Toma acquiesced\nwillingly, and began in his broken, yet simple expressive English:\n\u201cLong, long time ago, young Indian brave, by name Swift Foot, live by\nbig water, by name Great Slave Lake. He very handsome brave. Him mother\nlove him very much. His father great hunter. He have all food he can\neat, warm wigwam in winter. No have to work. Him play all day, and when\nhim tired he sleep. But him no happy. He look at stars and want know why\nthe stars twinkle; him look at sun, want know why sun warm; him look at\nmoon, want know why cannot reach it; him look at rainbow, want know why\ncannot catch him no matter how fast he run.\n\u201cSwift Foot ask mother questions. She say, \u2018Big Eagle, your father,\ngreat hunter and very wise. He tell you, my son.\u2019 Swift Foot ask father\nquestions. Father say, \u2018Your grandfather old and wise, maybe he can tell\nyou.\u2019 Swift Foot ask his grandfather questions, but old man say he not\nknow these things.\n\u201cBye an\u2019 bye Swift Foot visit all old men in tribe, but none knew why\nstars twinkle, why sun shine, why he no can catch rainbow.\n\u201cSwift Foot, him get very unhappy. Him no eat, no sleep. His mother\nthink him going die. One day she tell him, \u2018Swift Foot, you follow big\nwater north till you come to great river. There you find old, old\nmedicine man. He tell you why stars twinkle, why sun shine, why no catch\nrainbow.\u2019\n\u201cSwift Foot him very glad then. Him jump in birch canoe an\u2019 paddle fast.\nMany days him paddle along lake shore till he come to great river. When\nhe come to shore old, old man, all dried up, waiting there to meet him.\n\u201cWhen Indian boy ask old medicine man what he want know, old man ask him\nwhat he give to know all things. Swift Foot, he say he give everything\nhe have. Medicine man ask him if he sure. Swift Foot say yes, he give\neverything to know, for he no want live longer if he can no catch\nrainbow.\n\u201cThen medicine man build big fire and boil something in pot, while he\ndance round and round Swift Foot. After while Swift Foot feel strange.\nHe feel like he getting smaller; he cannot see far with his eyes; him\nhands shake like leaves.\n\u201cPretty soon fire make big smoke\u2014puff, puff. Smoke disappear, and old\nman, he gone. Swift Foot all alone on shore of big water, and he know\nall things. He know why stars twinkle, why sun shines, why he can no\ncatch rainbow. He know so much he much afraid. He jump up, try to run to\ncanoe. But he fall down hard. He get up, try to run again, but he no can\nrun\u2014he have to walk very slow.\n\u201cWhen he get down to big water it is like mirror. He bend over and look\ndown. Old, old man look back at him from water, oldest an\u2019 ugliest man\nhe ever see. He know then him give youth for great wisdom. No more him\nrun an\u2019 jump, no more him eat deer meat, for he have no teeth. He begin\nweep, an\u2019 say he no want know all things, him want be young again. All\nday, all night he cry, but he not grow young again.\n\u201cThen he paddle his canoe back to his mother, but she not know him. She\nlaugh when he say he Swift Foot, her son. \u2018My son beautiful young boy,\nyou ugly, old man,\u2019 she say. \u2018Go \u2019way.\u2019\n\u201cSwift Foot leave village then. Him go far away in forest where no man\nsee him. One moon he no eat anything, but pray much to Great Spirit.\nThen him fall asleep. When wake up him feel strong again. He go down to\npool of water and look in. Him jump up and make big, glad noise with\nmouth. Great Spirit answer prayer. Him young again. But he not remember\nwhy stars twinkle, why sun shines, why no can catch rainbow.\n\u201cSwift Foot go back to his mother. She very glad to see him. He say to\nhis mother he very happy now; him no want know why stars twinkle, why\nsun shines, why no can catch rainbow. He say he love them just the same.\nMany years him live happy. Make big hunter like him father, but him\nnever wish for what he no can get.\u201d\n\u201cGee, that was a great story!\u201d Dick exclaimed. \u201cWho told you that one?\u201d\n\u201cMy mother,\u201d Toma replied briefly, and for an instant the boys thought\nthey detected the sparkle of tears in the dark eyes of the stoical young\nIndian.\n\u201cThat story had a moral to it just like one of Aesop\u2019s Fables,\u201d Dick\nsaid sleepily, as he crawled into his sleeping bag. \u201cGuess we can\u2019t have\nour cake and eat it too. Right, Sandy?\u201d\nBut a long, tuneful snore was the only reply Dick heard from Sandy.\nThe boys slept soundly for nearly ten hours, and when they awakened they\nfelt equal to any task that might present itself. First, they visited\nthe bear Dick and Toma had killed the day before, and brought back all\nthe meat they could carry on their backs. Since this left them well\nsupplied with meat for themselves, Dick decided they had better make an\neffort to procure some seal or walrus meat for the dogs.\nToma once more was elected to remain behind while Dick and Sandy went\nhunting. The boys found that the seal herd had moved a considerable\ndistance eastward along the coast since they first had seen it. It took\nthem an hour of climbing over rough shore ice before they reached a\npoint opposite the seal herd. Even then, to their disappointment, they\nfound that several large ice floes, jammed together, separated them from\nthe seals.\nAfter some minutes of deliberation, they decided to venture out upon the\nice, and get nearer the seals by jumping from one cake of ice to\nanother. Thus they began a dangerous adventure, destined from the\nbeginning to end in ill fortune, for they had not gone a hundred yards\nacross the treacherous ice before both Dick and Sandy had slipped and\nnarrowly saved themselves from a bad ducking, if not drowning, by\nclutching the edge of the floe which had been their objective when they\nleaped the open water.\nResting on a large, secure floe, they noticed that the tide was going\nout and that frequently, from the outer edge of the ice-jam, a large\nfragment detached itself and floated out to sea.\n\u201cI think we ought to go back,\u201d Dick said once, but they did not want to\nturn back empty handed after having gone so far, so they kept on until\nthey were within fifty feet of the nearest seals.\n\u201cHow tame they are!\u201d exclaimed Sandy.\n\u201cThey seem just like dogs,\u201d Dick added. \u201cProbably no one has killed any\nof this herd for a long time. It seems a shame to shoot such innocent\nlooking creatures.\u201d\n\u201cWell, you know we have to have food for the dogs,\u201d Sandy argued with\nhis tender heart. \u201cIn this country it\u2019s eat or be eaten, and we need the\ndogs and not the seals.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, then, suppose you shoot the first one,\u201d Dick said a little\nsarcastically.\nSandy tightened his lips, raised his rifle and took aim at the head of a\nfine young seal. Just then a baby seal flopped away from its mother\u2019s\nside, directly on a line with Sandy\u2019s sights. The baby seal stood up on\nits flippers and looked at the boys as cute as could be.\nSandy expelled his breath in a disgusted gasp, and let his rifle fall to\nhis hip.\n\u201cBrave boy,\u201d taunted Dick in fun. \u201cIf I wanted turkey for Thanksgiving I\nwouldn\u2019t send you out to chop off its head.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t help it,\u201d admitted Sandy. \u201cI\u2019ve felt this way before, but not\nso much as now. I don\u2019t see how anyone can slaughter these animals by\nthe hundreds even if their skins are so valuable.\u201d\nJust then a big bull seal crawled up on the ice out of the water, making\nan angry noise in his throat. This old fellow was quite fierce looking\nand did not apparently take kindly to the presence of the boys. He\nreared up and fixed baleful eyes upon them, opening his huge, whiskered\nmouth to show his tusks.\nNeither of the boys felt the same sympathy for this new and hostile\narrival, and Dick quickly raised his rifle and brought down the bull\nwith one shot.\nAt the sound of the rifle almost all of the seals took to the water\nhastily, swimming about and watching the man creatures from a distance.\nBut the old bull did not move from where he had fallen.\n\u201cThe next problem is how are we going to get this big brute ashore.\u201d\n\u201cGee, I never thought of that. I wonder how much he weighs,\u201d said Sandy,\ngoing forward and trying to lift the dead animal.\nBut the combined strength of both Dick and Sandy was only sufficient to\ndrag the heavy body slowly across the ice.\n\u201cHe must weigh several hundred pounds,\u201d Dick eyed their kill\nappraisingly. \u201cI don\u2019t think we\u2019ll ever get him ashore, unless we cut\nhim up and carry him in pieces.\u201d\nSo intent were the boys on the problem at hand that they had for several\nminutes lost all thought of their rather dangerous situation. It was\nSandy who first discovered something wrong. It seemed to him the ice on\nwhich they stood was moving.\n\u201cDick, quick!\u201d his voice was hoarse with fear. \u201cThis floe has broken\naway from the shore ice. What shall we do!\u201d\nDick wheeled toward the shore, taking in their predicament at a glance.\n\u201cRun for it, Sandy. We may reach the gap before it\u2019s too wide to jump!\u201d\nWhen Dick and Sandy ran for the edge of the moving floe which was\nnearest the shore, they realized what might happen to them should they\nfail to jump the widening stretch of water between them and safety. With\nthe tide going out, they would be carried out into a sea where no ships\nsailed, and where they could expect no help from any friendly, inhabited\nshores.\nThe floe which was carrying them off was fully three hundred yards\nacross, and since they had been tardy in discovering their peril, they\nfound fate against them. Coming to a sudden stop at the edge of the\nfloe, they saw, with sinking hearts, that more than a hundred yards of\nicy salt water separated them from the floes that still were clinging to\nthe shore.\n\u201cCan\u2019t we swim it?\u201d cried Sandy desperately.\n\u201cNever!\u201d Dick returned grimly. \u201cNot with these heavy clothes on. We\u2019d\ndrown or freeze before we\u2019d gone a third of the distance. Sandy, we\u2019re\ntrapped!\u201d\nIt did not take Sandy long to see that Dick was right. Alone, with a\ndead seal, upon a large ice floe, each second increased their peril as\nthey floated farther away from shore. Death by freezing might be their\nlot, for without shelter they could not hope to weather a polar storm.\nEven if they were fortunate in experiencing mild weather, they would\neventually starve.\nIn a dejected mood the two boys stood watching the bleak shore line that\nnow seemed so warm and friendly since they had been cut off from it.\n\u201cDo you notice the current is carrying us westward as well as north?\u201d\nDick spoke up presently.\n\u201cNo, but I can see you\u2019re right,\u201d rejoined Sandy. \u201cBut what\u2019s the\ndifference?\u201d\n\u201cIf we keep drifting at this angle, we\u2019ll sight our camp and maybe we\ncan signal Toma.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s face brightened for an instant, then he gave in again to his\nformer forebodings. \u201cToma can\u2019t do anything for us,\u201d he said.\n\u201cMaybe not right away. At least he\u2019ll know what has happened to us, and\ncan notify the policemen when they return.\u201d\nSandy realized the wisdom in Dick\u2019s words, and sat down to watch for the\nfirst sign of their camp.\nThe floe slowly turned as it was carried along with the ocean current,\nand the boys were forced to change their position frequently in order to\nstay on the side nearest the shore. And since their huge raft was\nfloating out to sea as well as westward past the camp site, it became a\nproblem as to whether they would not be too far away to signal Toma when\nthat moment came.\nTensely they waited. For twenty minutes the floe forged along with its\nhuman cargo before Dick suddenly gave a glad shout. At a distance of\nabout half a mile, the igloos of their camp appeared, surrounded by the\ntiny dark dots which represented the sledges and other dunnage. But\nthere was no sign of life.\nDick and Sandy pointed their rifles into the air and emptied the\nmagazines. But the shots brought no figure tumbling out of one of the\nfar away igloos.\n\u201cHe\u2019s inside and can\u2019t hear us. If he does he\u2019ll probably think we\u2019re\nshooting seals.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s fire more shots,\u201d Sandy suggested.\nThey reloaded and repeated their first salvo, with no better results.\nSlowly the igloos grew smaller and smaller as they floated farther out\nto sea, and at last they sat down and gave up.\n\u201cWell, Toma couldn\u2019t have helped us anyway,\u201d Dick said, trying to make\nthe best of their misfortune.\n\u201cNo, but it would make me feel a lot better if I knew someone knew what\nhad happened to us.\u201d\nDick agreed and fell silent, wracking his brain for a way out. But the\nmore he thought it over, the more certain he became that they were in\nthe hands of fate. Nothing but a miracle could save them.\nThey had not been at sea an hour until a new peril presented itself. The\nice floe upon which they had been marooned was breaking up. Large\nsegments began cracking away from the main body and floating off by\nthemselves.\n\u201cWe must stay together, Sandy,\u201d Dick said, \u201cSuppose one of those cracks\ncame between us.\u201d\nSandy shivered at the thought and eyed the ice under his feet. Holding\nhands, the boys walked to the center of the floe where the ice seemed\nthe thickest.\nThe shore was now only a dim line to the south, while around rose and\nfell the icy waves of the desolate polar sea. Here and there a berg\nwallowed along and occasionally they collided with a slower moving body\nof ice. Dick thought of jumping off the floe to one of the bergs, but\nchanged his mind since the faster moving floe might possibly run into\nland while the loggy iceberg would float in almost the same place for\ndays.\nAdding to the danger of their situation, the sky was becoming overcast\nby a film of gray clouds and a freezing wind was springing up,\nheightening the waves and throwing icy cold spray across the floe.\n\u201cWe\u2019re in for a storm, Sandy,\u201d Dick said, beating his arms against his\nbody to keep warm. \u201cIt\u2019s up to us to fix up some sort of wind break or\nelse we can\u2019t stand the cold. Think we can chop some cakes of ice out of\nthis floe?\u201d\n\u201cWe sure can try,\u201d responded Sandy, drawing out his sheath knife with\nalacrity.\nBoth boys then set to work industriously and after considerable hard\nlabor, succeeded in chipping out some good sized chunks of ice. These\nthey built up in a half circle, rounded against the wind. Against the\nwall they flung water with their mittens. The water quickly froze,\ncementing the blocks together and forming an effective wind break.\nBehind this they hovered while the wind increased in velocity and a\nheavy snow began to fall.\nThey dared not sleep for fear they would freeze before they awoke, and\nthough the dread drowsiness that is the first symptom of freezing stole\nover them again and again, they fought it off grimly. Once both fell\nasleep at the same time in spite of all they could do, but the fast\nmoving floe struck a large berg with a grinding, rending crash and\nstartled them to the temporary safety of wakefulness. Had it not been\nfor the wind break they had erected they would undoubtedly have frozen\nto death. As it was, they were forced to watch each other, to prevent\nsleep coming to both at the same time. Sometimes Dick pounded Sandy\nuntil his eyes opened, and again Sandy beat and shouted at Dick above\nthe roar of the storm, and the crashing and grinding of ice.\nNeither had the least idea where they were being driven to, they had\neven lost all sense of direction, every effort bent on keeping a spark\nof life burning in their numb bodies.\nIt seemed to the boys that the battle with the cold would never end,\nthat they had floated in the storm for hours, when suddenly the floe\ncame to a jarring stop, and a deluge of ice water rolled across it,\nalmost washing Dick and Sandy from their position under the wind break.\n\u201cI wonder what we\u2019ve hit!\u201d Dick shouted hoarsely.\n\u201cIt must be a berg,\u201d Sandy cried in reply.\n\u201cBut we aren\u2019t moving at all,\u201d Dick shouted back.\nBelieving they might have been washed ashore on some island, the boys\nbraved the full force of the storm and staggered out of their wind break\nto investigate. The snow and spray almost blinded them, but at last they\nmade out a huge mass of ice upon which the floe had lodged. It rose up\nfor nearly fifty feet and withstood every charge of the gigantic waves\nthat crashed against it.\nYet, in the brief period when the wind cleared the air of flying snow,\nthey could see the swell of waves beyond the ice which was holding them.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a grounded berg!\u201d Dick shouted at last, and Sandy and he fought\ntheir way back to the welcome shelter of their wind break.\n\u201cWe must be pretty close to land,\u201d Sandy opined.\n\u201cYes, but there\u2019s no telling how deep the water is here. The berg we\u2019ve\nlodged on may extend down into the water for a hundred feet. There\u2019s\nalways more of a berg under water than there is above. We\u2019ve got to\nstick it out until this storm blows over.\u201d\nAnd so they renewed their struggle to fight off the gnawing cold,\ncheered somewhat by the probabilities that when the storm blew over they\nwould see land.\nIt was two hours later when the wind slackened perceptibly and the snow\nceased to fall. With shouts of joy the boys then saw, about a mile away,\nacross the dashing waves, a line of black cliffs, streaked with snow.\n\u201cNow if we could only find some way to float in on those breakers. But I\ndon\u2019t see how we could take a chance on a cake of ice. We couldn\u2019t stick\nto it a second before we got washed off into the sea.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to wait till the waves die down,\u201d Sandy said. \u201cIf I wasn\u2019t\nso weak, maybe we could paddle a chunk of ice then.\u201d\nDick shook his head. \u201cThat might do in a story book, but even if we\nweren\u2019t just about ready to drop, we couldn\u2019t do that.\u201d\nGlumly, they began the wait for the waves to go down, tightening their\nbelts upon flat and gnawing stomachs. With the ceasing of the storm\ntheir hunger became three times as noticeable. Had the dead seal, which\nhad first accompanied them on the floe, still been with them, they might\nhave tackled raw blubber, but the waves had washed the seal into the sea\nlong before.\nThough the wind had fallen, the boys found themselves little more\ncomfortable, for the temperature began to fall alarmingly. With the\npassing of every hour the still air grew colder while the waves quieted\nunder the iron hand of Jack Frost.\nThe boys chewed ice to cool their thirsting mouths and partially allay\nthe great hunger that was swiftly weakening them. They could not judge\nthe passage of time rationally now, and when Dick awakened from a stupor\nthat had come upon him in spite of all he could do, he found the water\naround them almost as smooth as glass.\nStaggering to his feet Dick pulled Sandy to his feet and together they\ngazed on a phenomenon of the north that was like a miracle in their\neyes.\nThe open water, or lead, between the land and the berg on which they had\nlodged, was frozen over, and a level walk of thin ice bridged a way to\nsafety.\n\u201cCan we walk on it?\u201d Sandy asked in a hoarse, thick voice.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d Dick replied through blue lips. \u201cI\u2019ll test it.\u201d\nGuiding his weakened legs by force of will alone, Dick cautiously\napproached the edge of the floe and placed one foot down on the ice. He\nbore his weight, by degrees, on the one foot. The ice cracked a little\nand gave downward, then as he placed the last of his weight upon the\nice, it broke through. Dick saved himself from a cold bath that might,\nat that time, have meant the finish of him, by falling face downward on\nthe floe and drawing himself back to safety. He would have given up\nthen, had not a heart-rending groan from Sandy aroused in him a new\ndetermination. For he could not bear to see his chum lying there, slowly\nfreezing, when there was an ounce of strength left in him.\nInto Dick\u2019s numb senses crept an idea. The snowshoes strapped upon their\nbacks! If the ice would not hold weight upon the narrow surface of a\nboot sole, might it not support them if their weight were distributed\nupon the broad rim of snowshoes?\nIn frantic haste Dick aroused Sandy and shouted his plan into his dazed\nchum\u2019s ears. Fumbling fingers then began the slow process of attaching\nsnowshoes to tingling feet. At last the task was accomplished, and the\nboys began shuffling toward the thin ice.\nDick went first, skating as lightly as possible out on the ice. His\nheart was in his mouth. Would the ice hold?\nThe ice sprang downward slightly and tiny cracks spread out all around\nDick, but the ice held.\n\u201cDon\u2019t follow my track,\u201d he cried to Sandy, about to leave the floe.\n\u201cStart somewhere where the ice hasn\u2019t been strained. We\u2019ve got to hurry.\nThis salt water may melt at any moment.\u201d\nSandy did as he was told and there began a more perilous half mile of\nsnowshoeing than the boys ever before had experienced or ever hoped to\nexperience again.\nFaster and faster they skated over the rubbery ice, praying they would\nstrike no weaker spot, every nerve strained to the utmost in their\nfear-driven flight.\nUnder any other circumstances the boys would surely have fallen\ncompletely exhausted before they finished that terrible half mile of\nsnowshoeing. But it was life or death, and all the reserve energy in\ntheir strong, young bodies came to the front to carry them through.\nOne last spurt of speed and they tumbled onto the heaps of solid ice\nmarking the beach and solid land. Scarcely had they landed when the\nwater broke through the rapidly melting ice.\nSandy could not raise himself and Dick had just enough strength left to\ndrag himself to a standing position. His roving eyes fell upon a flock\nof eider ducks a little distance away. His stomach crying out for food,\nDick reeled toward the wild fowl, scattering them to right and left. He\nfound quickly what he was looking for. Eggs!\nPawing into a nest he rolled out three eggs, and without testing them to\nsee whether they were fresh or not, he cracked the shells and drank down\nthe life-giving nourishment. Hastily picking up two more eggs, he\nstumbled back to Sandy and forced him to suck the raw whites.\nBoth boys revived by the duck eggs, they waited for the ducks to settle\nback to their nests, and shot two of them.\nDick and Sandy ordinarily would have been repelled at the idea of eating\nraw flesh, but now nothing seemed sweeter than the warm white meat of\nthe eider ducks. They ate their fill, like young savages, and found\nwarmth and strength returning to their half-frozen bodies.\nSpirits rising through the effect of the food and their recent\ndeliverance from the drifting ice floe, the boys were about to start\nfurther inland, when Sandy pointed to a boulder only a hundred feet\naway.\n\u201cI thought I saw something move over there,\u201d he whispered.\nDick opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. From behind the\nboulder arose the head and upper body of an Eskimo\u2014and yet, was it an\nEskimo?\n\u201cHis skin is white!\u201d Sandy exclaimed.\n\u201cIt\u2019s the white Eskimo!\u201d Dick echoed.\nSo amazed were Dick and Sandy by this sudden and inexplicable\nreappearance of the white Eskimo that they could not move from their\ntracks for fully a minute. The half-breed did not move. He stared at\nthem as if he, too, had been surprised, then one of his arms raised in a\nsort of signal.\nDick and Sandy aroused to their danger too late. From a dozen hiding\nplaces as many uncouth brown figures appeared, with spears and rifles\nleveled at them. Hemmed in and outnumbered, there was but one thing for\nthem to do\u2014surrender.\nSandy\u2019s rifle clattered to the ice, and Dick\u2019s followed quickly, while\nboth raised their hands. The white Eskimo then came forward and picked\nup their rifles. He addressed them in broken English, which had a French\naccent mingled with the Eskimo tang:\n\u201cI ees pleased ver\u2019 much, boys. While zee poleece chase zee wild goose,\nI git zere little helpers. Zat not so?\u201d\n\u201cYou may have the drop on us now,\u201d retorted Dick with more spirit than\nwas really in his half-famished, half-frozen body, \u201cbut we have friends\nnearby and you will wish you never had troubled us.\u201d\nThe white Eskimo laughed scoffingly. \u201cYou think you make zee fool of me.\nHa! Zose mounted police long way from here. They look, look everywhere\nfor Fred Mistak, but Mistak like the ghost. He disappear like\nnossing\u2014quick!\u201d\nDick remained silent at this, thinking it best not to arouse the\nill-humor of their savage captor. He was interested, if disappointed to\nlearn that their friends, the policemen, were so far away. He had\nhalf-hoped the storm had thrown them back upon land somewhere near the\nother members of the expedition.\nMistak seemed to have no desire to loiter in the vicinity of the capture\nand speedily forced the boys to fall in line and start off inland. Tired\nas they were, the two prisoners assumed a calmness they did not feel as\nthey began the long climb up a steep trail that led to the summit of the\ncliffs which formed that portion of the coast.\nDick studied the evil faces of his captors and saw that only few of them\nwere Eskimos. The greater number of the gang included renegade Indians,\nhalf-breeds, and one who seemed a full blooded white man. Dick did not\ndoubt that every man of them either carried a price on his head or was\nat least a fugitive from the courts of justice. The white man and two of\nthe Indians had rifles, and Mistak wore a revolver on a belt about his\nwaist.\nThe sinister company climbed to the top of the cliffs, forcing the boys\nalong at the point of spears, and marched on for about a mile across the\nsnow and ice to what seemed to be a temporary encampment. Six igloos had\nbeen built in the shelter of a ridge, and two sledges loaded with frozen\nseal blubber lay under the watch of an Eskimo.\nMistak gruffly ordered Dick and Sandy into an igloo. As soon as the boys\nhad reached the crude bedding inside the snow house, they gave over to\nthe great weariness that possessed them. Lost to everything but the need\nof sleep, they fell into a deep unconsciousness regardless of the fact\nthat they were in the hands of enemies from whom they might expect no\nmercy.\nDick knew not how long he had slept when he aroused to hear someone at\nthe entrance of the igloo. One of the Eskimos crawled half way in with\ntwo chunks of seal blubber in his arms. These he tossed at the two\nrecumbent forms with a few guttural and unintelligible words in his\nnative tongue, and crawled out again.\nDick was terribly hungry, and though the seal blubber did not exactly\nappeal to his appetite, he found, upon tasting the greasy meat, that it\nwas better than nothing. He awakened Sandy, and together they made their\nfirst meal upon raw seal blubber, finding that the more they ate of it\nthe better it tasted.\n\u201cIt\u2019s not bad when a fellow\u2019s half starved,\u201d Sandy remarked as they\nfinished the last of the blubber.\nDick was about to answer when the sound of voices outside interrupted\nhim. He signaled Sandy to remain quiet and together they listened. But\nthey could not distinguish the words through the thick walls of the\nigloo, though they recognized the voice of Fred Mistak.\nHoping to learn something of what Mistak intended to do with Sandy and\nhim, Dick motioned to his chum to remain where he was and crawled in the\nhole that served as the entrance of the igloo. A huge cake of snow had\nbeen carelessly pushed up against the outside of the hole and placing\none ear against this, Dick could hear Mistak\u2019s voice quite plainly. He\nseemed to be speaking to the white man in the outfit.\n\u201cI tell you zat we cannot bozzer wis zee two young ones. It ees best we\nput them where zay cannot talk. You see?\u201d Mistak was saying.\nThe other man swore, then replied loudly: \u201cYou know we got enough blood\non our hands now, Mistak, to send us over the road for life. It\u2019ll be\nhangin\u2019 for you an\u2019 me if we put these yonkers out of the way right\nunder the noses of the mounted.\u201d\n\u201cWell, zen, what you say we put zem wiz Thalman?\u201d\nThalman! That was the name of the lost corporal! Dick electrified with\neagerness to hear more, but the two walked off a little way out of\nearshot. He crawled back to Sandy, confiding what he had heard.\n\u201cAccording to that, Corporal Thalman must be alive alright,\u201d Sandy\nobserved.\n\u201cYes, but the question is, do we want to go where he is as Mistak\nhinted. It looks like Thalman is in a pretty tight prison or he\u2019d have\ngotten out by this time. And we can help him more on the outside than on\nthe inside. Besides I don\u2019t trust this Mistak a little bit. He\u2019d cut our\nthroats in a minute if the white man agreed. We\u2019d better see if we can\u2019t\nescape.\u201d\n\u201cIf there was any darkness to do it in, we might get away,\u201d Sandy\nretorted, \u201cbut in this never-ending daylight, I don\u2019t see how we can do\nit.\u201d\n\u201cListen\u2014I\u2019ve a plan,\u201d Dick drew closer to his chum, and began in a\nwhisper. \u201cWhen we came up I could see that this igloo was built on a\nlong snowdrift that stretches clear to a ravine on the right. We still\nhave our knives and with these we can dig a tunnel under the snow.\u201d\n\u201cBut suppose they come in while we\u2019re working?\u201d\n\u201cI thought of that. We\u2019ll work one at a time, while one keeps watch at\nthe entrance of the igloo. At first we can jump up out of the tunnel,\nwhich we\u2019ll start in the floor, and lie down over it with our bedding.\nIf they come clear inside they\u2019ll think we\u2019re sleeping.\u201d\n\u201cWhat about the loose snow?\u201d Sandy asked.\n\u201cThat we can scatter over the floor and pack it down with our boots. The\nhardest job will be coming out of the drift at the right place. What we\nmust do is tunnel under the igloo and through the drift to the side\nhidden from the camp.\u201d\nSandy became enthusiastic over Dick\u2019s daring scheme and without delay\nthey commenced the difficult task. Dick started the digging while Sandy\nwatched. The snow was hard, but by keeping at it he soon was far enough\ndown so that he could change the direction of his digging toward the\noutside of the snowdrift, which was to furnish the cover for their\nescape.\nThey had changed places twice and Sandy was again on watch when the\ncrunch of footfalls sounded approaching the igloo.\n\u201cQuick. Someone\u2019s coming!\u201d Sandy whispered down the tunnel.\nDick was only a few seconds backing out of the hole and dropping prone\nover it, the bedding drawn about him. Sandy also feigned sleep nearby\nand with bated breath they awaited whoever was coming.\nBut the Indian who looked in at the igloo entrance did not come in. He\nseemed satisfied that the two prisoners were asleep and departed to\nother business.\nHowever, the narrow escape from detection put a scare into them that set\nthem to devising some other means of covering up their work when visited\nby one of the gang. With chunks of snow from the tunnel they fashioned a\nform to resemble a body and wrapping this in bedding they placed it in\nas life-like a sleeping position as possible near the tunnel. If they\nwere visited again the one on watch could lie down over the entrance to\nthe tunnel, while the other could lie still under the snow without\nleaving the tunnel.\nAfter this ruse was ready for use they felt more confident of success\nand redoubled their efforts.\nIt was Dick who first poked a hole through the snow to the light of the\noutside world. His heart leaping at the thought that they had succeeded,\nhe looked out of the hole, only to receive one of the greatest shocks of\nhis life. Not ten feet away sat an Eskimo, one of Mistak\u2019s band, chewing\non a chunk of seal blubber! As Dick watched with terror-widened eyes,\nthe Eskimo looked directly at him, and paused in his eating. Dick could\nnot force himself to move. Every moment he expected some sign from the\nEskimo that he had discovered the attempt to escape, yet the native\nfinally resumed his eating without any alarming actions.\nBreathing a sigh of relief Dick plugged up the hole and lay on his\nstomach in the snow tunnel, wondering if there had been some mistake in\ntheir calculations which had brought them out on the wrong side of the\nsnowdrift. But no, they were on the right side of the drift. Nothing\ncould have so confused them as to cause any such disastrous error. The\nEskimo must have been there by chance. Dick decided that the native had\nbeen hiding from the rest of his band, probably because he had stolen\nmore rations of food than was his allotment.\nAfter waiting a reasonable length of time, Dick cleared the peep hole\nand looked out. The Eskimo was gone.\nHastily Dick wriggled back through the tunnel and reported to Sandy the\nwelcome news that they had reached the surface of the drift and could\nnow leave the igloo.\nHoping they might delay the discovery of their escape until they had a\ngood start, they fashioned a second dummy from rolled bedding and Sandy,\nthe last one into the snow tunnel, drew this over the hole after him.\nA few minutes later they had cautiously broken out of the snowdrift and\nwere crawling along the snow bank away from the encampment.\nOnce in the ravine, into which the drift led, they strapped on their\nsnowshoes, which Mistak had not thought it necessary to take from them,\nand made good time away from their captors.\n\u201cJust give us as much as an hour\u2019s start and I\u2019ll bet they\u2019ll never\ncatch us,\u201d Dick cried exultantly.\n\u201cNo, you bet they\u2019ll never catch me,\u201d Sandy repeated emphatically. \u201cI\nthink too much of my skin to have it punched full of holes by that gun\nin Mistak\u2019s belt.\u201d\nSettling into a long, swinging, crab-like stride, the boys covered\nalmost four miles on their snowshoes before they felt it necessary to\ncall a halt.\nSandy was about winded, and fell back against a boulder completely\nrelaxed, but Dick still felt fairly spry so he crawled to the top of a\nnearby hill and looked over the back trail. He was about to call down to\nSandy that all was well when, from a narrow defile through which he\nremembered they had passed, he saw five figures coming fast on\nsnowshoes. Dick felt a chill that was not from the frosty air creep up\nhis spine. He did not doubt that the distant men were Mistak and several\nof his gang.\n\u201cSandy, they\u2019re after us,\u201d Dick called down in a tense voice.\nSandy got excitedly to his feet and urged Dick to hurry on with him. But\nthe elder lad had something else in mind as he climbed down from the\nhill.\n\u201cSandy, there are expert snowshoers in that bunch following us,\u201d Dick\nsaid coolly. \u201cWe don\u2019t stand a show of keeping the lead we have.\u201d\n\u201cWell, we can\u2019t stand them off without rifles. All we have left is our\nhunting knives.\u201d\n\u201cBut we can still throw them off our track if we use our heads,\u201d said\nDick quickly. \u201cDid you notice that long stretch of hard ice and barren\nrock that we\u2019ve been following for more than half a mile?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d Sandy began to be interested.\n\u201cWell, we can go on along the snow until we angle into the ice and rock\nunder that high barren hill in front of us. They\u2019ll think we climbed the\nhill, and will go on to pick up our tracks in the next patch of snow.\nThere\u2019s where we\u2019ll fool them. We\u2019ll double on our trail where we can\u2019t\nleave any footprints, and hide somewhere until they give up hunting for\nus.\u201d\n\u201cSounds pretty good to me,\u201d replied Sandy. \u201cLet\u2019s mush!\u201d\nQuickly, then, the boys carried their plan into execution. They ran on\nto the point where the snow gave way to barren rock and ice, swept clean\nby high winds. Here they removed their snowshoes and turned almost\nsquarely about. Running lightly across the stones and ice, they covered\nabout a quarter of a mile on the back trail leaving no tracks to show\nwhere they had gone. Then they began looking for a hiding place.\nIt was Dick who spied a hole under the shelf of a cut bank, which led\nback under ground. There were no signs that the cavern had been\ninhabited recently by any wild animals, and after calling Sandy to his\nside, Dick got on hands and knees and crawled into the dark passage.\nThe hole grew larger as the boys traversed it, and finally they were\nable to run along at a crouch.\nPresently Dick stopped Sandy. \u201cWe\u2019d better not go too far,\u201d he\ncautioned. \u201cWhy not go back to a point where the hole is smaller and\nblock it up with stones and ice? Then if they happen to discover the\nentrance to this cave they\u2019ll run into where we\u2019ve plugged it up and\nthey\u2019ll think that is the end of the cave.\u201d\nSandy agreed that this was an excellent idea and they hurried back to\ncarry it out. Ten minutes later, feeling much more secure with the\nbarrier thrown up in the small end of the passage, the boys decided to\nfollow the underground corridor to its end or to a point where it\nbranched off into a larger cave.\nAs they advanced, the passage rapidly grew lighter, until finally they\ncame out into broad daylight. Looking around, they saw they had reached\na sort of amphitheater formed by walls of ice-covered stone about fifty\nfeet in height. The floor of the place was about a hundred feet in\ndiameter, but what set the hearts of the boys to pounding frantically,\nwas the fact that a man sat with his back to the wall not fifteen yards\naway, and a little further on, lying with his face against the side of a\nbroken dog sledge, was another man.\nWere they friend or foe? The boys did not know. Something in the very\nstillness of the two figures boded no good. But they were between two\nfires, and they must take a chance.\n\u201cHello, there,\u201d called Dick, boldly.\nThere was no answer. Again Dick called out, without getting any reply.\nHis face paled a little at the strange silence of the men and summoning\nall his courage he stepped up and grasped the one sitting against the\nwall by the shoulder. With a cry of horror he staggered back. The body\nwas immovable as stone to the touch, and from the depths of the parka\nstared a pair of glassy, sightless eyes.\nDick and Sandy turned and looked at each other, swallowing lumps in\ntheir throats, and experiencing unpleasant goose-flesh.\nFor what they had stumbled upon, in that secluded nook, was a camp of\nfrozen men!\nAt the moment Dick and Sandy discovered themselves in the company of men\nfrom whom life had long since fled, they would have gladly chosen to\nface Mistak and his men rather than remain in the strange, canyon-like\npit a second longer. But time and the real peril awaiting them, if they\nwere discovered by Mistak, steadied their nerves.\n\u201cIt\u2019s silly of us to act like a couple of babies when we see two dead\nmen,\u201d Dick found his tongue again.\n\u201cMaybe it is,\u201d Sandy rejoined in a shaky voice, \u201cbut it was worse than\nfinding a skeleton in a dark clothes closet.\u201d\nDick silently agreed with Sandy, but thought it better not to admit it\naloud. Instead, he assumed a calmness he did not feel in order to\ndisperse Sandy\u2019s fears.\n\u201cWhat we must do now,\u201d said Dick, \u201cis try to find out who these men\nwere. They may have been of some importance in the south\u2014engineers,\nexplorers, or scientists.\u201d\n\u201cGo ahead if you want to,\u201d Sandy shook his head as he eyed their\ngruesome find. \u201cI\u2019ll go back into the cave where I can hear any one that\nmay come in on the other side of the barricade.\u201d\nLeft alone with the dead men, Dick set immediately about what he thought\nwas his duty. Upon closer inspection he found that the men had not\nreally frozen to death as he had at first supposed, but that one, or\nboth, of them had died from injuries received from a bad fall.\nThe body near the sledge was partially wedged under one of the runners.\nThe sledge itself was crushed and splintered in front beyond repair.\nDick gazed up at the edge of the walls forming the amphitheater,\npicturing in his mind what he thought had happened. This is what he\nimagined:\nTwo men, sledging over an uncharted land in the teeth of a blinding\nblizzard. An ineffectual struggle of dog and man to avoid slipping into\nan abyss which they sensed. Then the crash of the sledge and bodies at\nthe foot of the bank. One man had died immediately, crushed by the fall\nand the sledge. The other had lived to crawl away and lean up against\nthe rock wall which he had never quitted. It was one of the countless\ntragedies of the north, one of the secrets of the mysterious\ndisappearance of men who had braved the Arctic and never returned.\nDick inspected every foot of ground near the sledge and found the\nremains of their dogs. But nowhere could he find any record or memoranda\nas to who the men were and what had been their mission.\nHe was about to examine the ice-crusted dunnage in the wrecked sledge\nwhen Sandy came running in calling to him.\n\u201cSomeone\u2019s in the cave! I believe Mistak has trailed us after all!\u201d\nDick hastily quitted his work at the sledge and ran back into the cave\nafter Sandy. When they reached the point where they had plugged up the\npassage, their worst fears were realized. Someone was trying to break\nin, and the mumble of voices came faintly to their ears. The boys had\nunderestimated the trail-craft of the white Eskimo and his men.\n\u201cMistak has discovered our hiding place in spite of all the pains we\ntook to cover our tracks,\u201d Dick spoke disappointedly. \u201cAll we can do now\nis keep them out by adding to this barricade. We can rebuild it faster\nthan they can break it down, because on the other side only one can work\nat a time. Let\u2019s get to work, Sandy.\u201d\nAll the loose boulders and fragments of ice the boys could find they\nbrought to the barricade and piled there as fast as possible. But they\nsoon found that their enemies were gaining on them. This was not\nnoticeable until the boys had used up all the boulders near them and\nwere required to run all the way to the amphitheater for more material.\nAlso, as Mistak\u2019s men worked their way further in, the cave became\nlarger and the outlaws could work more freely. Added to this, Dick\u2019s and\nSandy\u2019s job of filling the passage became bigger and bigger the further\nback they retreated.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll never keep them out!\u201d Sandy panted at last. \u201cI guess this is our\nlast adventure, Dick.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t give up yet, Sandy,\u201d Dick strove to encourage his chum.\nGrimly, they stuck to the losing fight, determined not to give up until\nthey had carried the last available stone into the passage to impede the\nprogress of Fred Mistak, whose voice they could now plainly hear urging\nhis men on to greater efforts. Like rats excavated by a clawing dog,\nDick and Sandy were determined to sell their lives dearly.\nYet, Providence intervened. Suddenly, the work of Mistak\u2019s men ceased,\nand the echo of running feet sounded in the icy corridor, accompanied by\nhoarse shouts of anger and dismay.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s happened?\u201d Sandy turned to Dick, hardly able to believe the good\nfortune that seemed to be coming to them.\nDick did not answer, but stood very still, listening intently. Finally,\nthe last sounds of retreating footsteps died away.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll wait a little longer, then open up the passage and find out what\nor who frightened Mistak away,\u201d said Dick.\nFor what seemed to the boys about a quarter of an hour, they waited in\nthe dark passage. At the end of this time they began cautiously removing\nthe boulders that blocked the passage. A few minutes later they crawled\none at a time from the tiny entrance, finding the vicinity deserted.\n\u201cFunny,\u201d Dick looked about puzzledly. \u201cWhat do you suppose frightened\nthem away?\u201d\nSandy was as much at loss as his chum to account for Mistak\u2019s departure,\nbut presently a distant hail electrified them with attention, and the\nmystery of their rescue was solved.\nAbout three hundred yards across the snow appeared a dog team and two\nmen, the identity of whom the boys were not long in correctly guessing.\n\u201cHurrah! The police! The police!\u201d shouted Dick, leaping down the rocky\nslope joyously, Sandy close on his heels.\nIt was not long before Dick and Sandy were eagerly gripping the huge,\nmittened hands of Corporal McCarthy and Constable Sloan. The story of\ntheir adventures since the officers had left the base, bubbled from\ntheir lips by fits and starts, the policemen hardly succeeding in\ngetting a word in edgewise.\n\u201cMistak pulled up stakes and mushed on when we made it too hot for him\non the glacier,\u201d Corporal McCarthy finally managed to explain. \u201cWe\npicked up his trail again three days ago and have been traveling fast\never since.\u201d\n\u201cWell, his camp can\u2019t be more than five miles from here,\u201d Dick hastened\nto say. \u201cBut Mistak won\u2019t stay there now, Corporal. He\u2019s a mighty clever\ncriminal, and now he knows you\u2019re this close he\u2019ll work a trick to get\nyou off the trail.\u201d\n\u201cWell, we can\u2019t let him get away if there\u2019s half a chance nabbing him,\u201d\nCorporal McCarthy replied determinedly. \u201cBut Sloan and I need a few\nhours\u2019 rest, and we might as well look over those bodies you boys say\nyou found.\u201d\nThe dogs were unharnessed outside the cavern entrance, and left in\ncharge of Constable Sloan, while Corporal McCarthy crawled into the cave\nafter Dick and Sandy. The officer was as amazed as the boys had been\nwhen he first laid eyes upon the frozen figures. His opinion was that of\nDick\u2014that the men had slid or stepped over the precipitous wall of the\namphitheater while blinded by a snow storm. Though the policeman\nsearched fully an hour for something by which to identify the bodies, he\nhad no luck, and at last gave up after making a brief entry in a small\nnotebook he carried.\n\u201cThe best we can do is give them an Eskimo burial,\u201d the Corporal\nconcluded his inspection. \u201cIf you fellows will help me gather a few\nstones we\u2019ll soon have the sad business over with.\u201d\nA few minutes later, as gently as possible, they deposited the bodies in\ntheir last resting place, and built over each a substantial cairn of\nstones.\nFrom the wrecked sledge, Corporal McCarthy then tore some strips of\nwood, and lashing two together with leather thongs, he fashioned a cross\nfor each. On the horizontal cross-pieces he carved this inscription:\n                  Corporal Lake McCarthy, R.N.W.M.P.\u201d\nAs soon as the crosses were planted and they had bowed their heads in\nsilent prayer for the unknown victims of the north, they quitted the\ncavern and rejoined Constable Sloan.\nA temporary camp was made, tea boiled, and bedding spread out, and while\nthe boys thirstily gulped the hot beverage, the policemen discussed\nplans for the apprehension of Fred Mistak.\nAmong many other things the boys learned that they were upward of forty\nmiles from the base of supplies Toma had been left alone to guard. The\nisland upon which they thought they had landed when they left the\nmainland, seemed to stretch endlessly to the northeast, widening\nconstantly until it disappeared under a solid ice cap.\nFuel oil for the special camp stoves was very low, and the policemen had\nonly about three days\u2019 provisions left, which was largely fresh musk-ox\nwhich Constable Sloan had shot during the man hunt. Also several of the\ndogs had died from piblockto, a sort of madness peculiar to the polar\nregions.\n\u201cAccording to what the policemen say,\u201d Dick confided to Sandy, \u201cwe\u2019ll\nhave to make quick work of Mistak. With the supplies as low as they say\nthey are, we\u2019ll have to start for our base mighty soon or the north will\ndo for us what it did for those two fellows at the end of the cave.\u201d\n\u201cWe can\u2019t get back any too soon to suit me,\u201d said Sandy earnestly.\nThe policemen rested the dogs and themselves for nearly two hours, when\nthey harnessed up and once more set out upon the trail of Fred Mistak.\nHalf a mile from the white Eskimo\u2019s rendezvous the snowshoe tracks led\non steadily, then there were signs of a delay in the trampled snow. One\nman had gone on from there, obviously to warn whoever had been left at\nthe igloos of the proximity of the police. Beside the undeviating\nsnowshoe prints leading toward Mistak\u2019s igloos, there was a bewildering\nmaze of tracks leading in all directions.\n\u201cThey\u2019ve scattered out, every man for himself,\u201d was Constable Sloan\u2019s\nopinion. \u201cBut if we hurry on to the camp we might catch a few of them.\u201d\nCorporal McCarthy thought this good counsel, and they set out\nimmediately for the encampment from which Dick and Sandy had so recently\nescaped. But they found the igloos deserted, their round, white domes\ncrushed and destroyed.\nConstable Sloan explained to the boys that the igloos had been broken\ndown by the superstitious Eskimos in Mistak\u2019s band, who believed that if\nthey left the igloos intact, evil spirits would come and live in them.\nThe policemen were considerably disappointed to find that Mistak\u2019s band\nhad once more given them the slip. The scattering of the band had made\nit impossible to tell just which trail was Mistak\u2019s, and there was\nnothing more to do but return to the base of operations for more dogs\nand supplies.\nAfter a scanty meal at Mistak\u2019s deserted camp, they set out upon the\nforty-mile dash to the home camp, praying for fair weather, and hoping\nno more of the dogs would contract the dreaded piblockto.\nFive days of fair weather and the half-famished company came in sight of\ntheir base to find considerable changes in evidence. In place of the\nthree igloos they had built, there were ten of the neat snow houses. A\nhost of dogs hung about the little village, and out at sea they could\nsee two kayacks bobbing about, manned by as many Eskimos.\n\u201cWhat is this!\u201d exclaimed Corporal McCarthy. \u201cVisitors, eh!\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet I know how they came here!\u201d Dick exclaimed.\n\u201cI think I know, too,\u201d Sandy added.\n\u201cWell, what do you think accounts for all these uninvited guests?\u201d asked\nConstable Sloan.\n\u201cSipsa brought them,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cRemember, I told you how he left us\nand that his trail led over the back trail? Well, just as Sandy and I\nhad it figured out, he went after some of his people on account of the\ngood seal hunting here.\u201d\nJust then the appearance of Toma changed the subject, and the boys\nhastened forward to greet their young Indian friend. Though Toma must\nhave been filled with great joy upon seeing Dick and Sandy safe and\nsound, he did not express it except with a broad grin and an added\nbrightness in his black eyes.\nShortly, proof appeared that Dick had been right in his surmise as to\nthe reason for the coming of the Eskimos. It was in the form of Sipsa\u2019s\nmoon face, split by a huge smile. The guide showed himself while Toma\nand the policemen were unharnessing the dogs and unpacking the sledge.\nConstable Sloan spoke to the native, reprimanding him for deserting the\nboys, but Sipsa did not quite understand that his offense had been so\nserious.\n\u201cSipsa says the hunting was good here, and he could not resist carrying\nthe news to his people,\u201d Constable Sloan interpreted. \u201cHe adds that he\nhad trouble in convincing them that the glacier was not haunted by bad\nspirits. The drivers who deserted us carried the news back to the\nvillage that the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019 had changed all of us to ice.\u201d\n\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t take an evil spirit to do that in this country,\u201d Dick\nremarked to Sandy, recalling the frozen bodies they had found so\nrecently.\nHaving eaten their fill and had a few hours\u2019 nap, Dick and Sandy crawled\nout of their igloo and commenced a detailed inspection of their native\nvisitors. While most of the men and women were out hunting, a few old\nwomen and children had remained behind.\nThe old women were making boots and shirts of sealskin and caribou hide,\nusing an ivory needle and thread of caribou sinews. They did not seem to\nmind having Dick and Sandy watch them, and so the boys satisfied their\ncuriosity to the utmost.\nAt one of the igloos a woman was cleaning a fur rug or robe by an\ninteresting method. She poured melted snow water upon the fur, and shook\nit in the cold air until the tiny drops of moisture clinging to the\nhairs froze into globules of ice. It seemed that the particles of dirt\nin the fur were imprisoned in the little balls of ice. When the fur\nseemed well covered with the ice crust, the women lay it fur-side down\nin clean snow and beat it for a long time. This done, she hung up the\nrobe and beat the fur side, the ice particles flying to right and left.\nWhen the last of the ice balls had disappeared from the fur, the robe\nseemed as dry and glossy as if it still was on the animal that first had\nborne it.\nThe boys were called away from the Eskimos by Corporal McCarthy who\nwished them to explain to him again just what they had heard regarding\nCorporal Thalman, the lost officer, while they were prisoners at\nMistak\u2019s rendezvous.\nCertain, now, through the chance discoveries of Dick and Sandy, that\nCorporal Thalman was alive somewhere in the frozen land, the policemen\nhastened to prepare for another venture into Mistak\u2019s outlaw fastnesses.\nThe nearness of the polar winter, or period of complete darkness, also\nserved to hasten them in their work, for without the sun to light the\ntrail and under the terrible cold that accompanied the long night, they\ncould not hope to accomplish anything.\nTwo days after pulling into their base of supplies from their first long\nand unsuccessful man hunt, the policemen once more set out in the\ndirection they had lost Mistak, leaving Dick and Sandy with plenty of\ngood advice and many precautions for them to avoid the dangers which\nthey had fallen into when first left to take care of themselves.\nDick and Sandy put in the first twelve hours following the departure of\nthe officers, in cleaning and oiling extra rifles from the supplies, to\nreplace those taken by Mistak, and in practicing with a harpoon. Sipsa\nproved a willing teacher in the art of handling this death dealing\nweapon effectively, and while the boys could not begin to equal the\naccuracy of the life-time trained natives, they were attentive students\nand soon became fair marksmen.\nAfter nearly a week of practice with the harpoon the boys decided to\ncommandeer a kayack each and try their luck at sea, along with the\nEskimo hunters. Sipsa had begun to pick up some English words, and the\nboys had managed to master a little Eskimo, so that when the day came\nfor their first try at hunting with a harpoon, there was more of an\nunderstanding between them and their Eskimo friend than there had been\nformerly.\nA narwhal had been sighted several times in the vicinity of the seal\nherd, Sipsa said, and the boys took added interest in the hunt with the\npromise of such big game as a whale to lead them on.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet I get my harpoon into that narwhal before you do,\u201d sang out\nSandy, as they put off shore in the waterproofed kayacks.\n\u201cWell, if you do, it may be my lucky day,\u201d Dick came back. \u201cThose\nnarwhals are mean fellows and if you don\u2019t get them in a vital spot they\ncan smash your kayack with their tail or long spear tusk and drown you.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll take a chance on that,\u201d Sandy replied, not quite so\nenthusiastically as he deftly guided his craft toward the hunters at\nwork in the seal herd.\nBut the boys did not join in the seal hunt. For a time they amused\nthemselves by running races in the kayacks which handled a good deal\nlike canoes. Gradually they drifted further out to sea and away from the\nEskimos, busily dodging icebergs and casting and recasting their\nharpoons into the water to accustom themselves to throwing from a\nrocking kayack.\nAbout a quarter of a mile from the seal herd Dick paused to rest and to\npermit Sandy, whom he had outdistanced, to overtake him. The sea seemed\nto him particularly clear of floating ice at this point, he having\nnoticed but one small fragment of ice about twenty feet ahead of him.\nFor probably a minute Dick watched Sandy paddling forward, and then he\nfaced the front again only to receive a distinct shock. The low-lying\nberg had moved by some power other than the ocean current. Eyes widened,\nDick watched what he had thought to be an inanimate piece of ice. His\nheart hammered against his breast. Again the ice moved, and this time it\nsurged upward, the water seething and foaming about it. One glimpse Dick\ngot of a white belly, a long pointed snout, and a huge slashing tail,\nand then the whole vision vanished in a whirl of waves that rocked his\nfrail craft crazily.\nDick knew now that what he had thought to be a fragment of mottled ice,\nwas the narwhal Sipsa had told them was haunting the vicinity. His hand\ntightened on his harpoon as he turned to shout the news of his discovery\nto Sandy.\n\u201cThe narwhal! The narwhal!\u201d cried Dick.\nSandy redoubled his efforts at the thrilling words, but Dick suddenly\nhad other business to attract his attention. For the narwhal had again\ncome to the surface near his canoe.\nHolding his breath until the great mammal turned broadside to him, Dick\nwaited heedless of Sandy\u2019s repeated cries for him to wait until he had\njoined him. The right moment came as the huge, grayish body rolled with\nthe waves. Dick cast with all the strength of his right arm. The harpoon\ndarted across the water with a hiss, the coil of thong attaching it\nsecurely to the kayack paying out after it. The cast had not missed. Not\nfar back of the head the heavy harpoon imbedded itself in the narwhal\nand with a swiftness surprising in so cumbersome an animal, the great\nbody went into action.\nThe harpoon line had been tied securely to the kayack and as the narwhal\nlunged forward, the stout thong tightened with a snap. Dick and the\nkayack shot completely out of the water, and when the boat landed it was\ntraveling at the rate of about thirty miles an hour.\nGrim and white-faced, Dick hung on. He could have severed the harpoon\nline with a stroke of his keen hunting knife, yet this he did not intend\nto do while the kayack still remained afloat.\nSpray flying in all directions, the narwhal headed due northeast, toward\nthe open sea. Had it not been for the submarine-like build of the kayack\nand the waterproofed jacket enclosing its passenger, the craft might\nhave sunk in the first hundred yards of that swift dash. As it was, Dick\nexperienced a sensation much like that felt by a bather riding a\nsurfboard which is being towed by a gasoline speed-boat.\nEvery minute during the breath-taking ride behind the harpooned narwhal,\nDick hoped the monster might either weaken from his wound, or change his\ncourse and swim to a point where Sandy or the Eskimo hunters might lend\na hand in finishing the battle with their harpoons. If the narwhal took\na notion to dive, Dick knew all was lost, and his only means of saving\nhimself that of quickly severing the harpoon line.\nDick had almost lost hope and was about ready to cut the line, when the\nnarwhal changed his course suddenly. The line slackened as the huge gray\nand black body propelling the kayack swerved in a shower of spray, and\ndoubled on its course. The kayack shot on by its own momentum, until\nwith a powerful jerk the line hauled it about. The sudden turn tipped\nthe kayack over as if it had been a feather, then the same force righted\nit again, while Dick blew the water out of his mouth and nose.\nMaddened by his wound, the narwhal seemed not to know or care where it\nwent. Like a mighty propeller his fan-like tail lashed the water to a\nfrenzy, as it headed straight toward Sandy\u2019s bobbing kayack.\n\u201cLet him have your harpoon as he goes by,\u201d Dick screamed to Sandy\nthrough a cupped palm.\nSandy shook his harpoon in the air in reply, and Dick could see him\nsettle for a cast as he rushed on.\nAt first the narwhal seemed to be headed at an angle that would bring\nhim past Sandy\u2019s kayack across the prow at a distance of about ten\nyards, close enough for a good cast with the harpoon. But, less than a\nhundred yards from Sandy\u2019s kayack, the big mammal changed course\nslightly, and with a hoarse shout of dismay, Dick saw that if the\nnarwhal kept on he would ram Sandy\u2019s kayack squarely in the middle.\n\u201cGet out of the way!\u201d shouted Dick frantically.\nBut Sandy was already making all haste with his paddle, and so well did\nhe handle his kayack that the rushing sea-giant failed to run him down\nby several inches. As the big body whizzed by, Sandy made a quick throw\nwith his harpoon, but missed, his line dropping over Dick\u2019s taut one,\nnarrowly escaping entanglement as Dick\u2019s kayack collided with it.\n\u201cHang on, Dick!\u201d Sandy shouted as his chum shot past him. \u201cYou\u2019re headed\nstraight toward Sipsa and the other hunters.\u201d\nDick had already foreseen this and his hopes were rising when, without\nany warning whatsoever, the narwhal dived. Had he gone far down Dick\nwould, no doubt, have been dragged under water and drowned before he\ncould slash free the harpoon line. As it was, the narwhal dived up and\ndown alternately, drawing the prow of the kayack under water with a rush\nand bringing it up again with giddy speed.\nChoking and gasping as the icy water trickled into his parka above the\nwaterproof covering on the kayack, Dick had almost given up hope while\nblindly slashing at the harpoon line, when the narwhal ceased diving and\nbegan darting this way and that over the surface of the water. Desisting\nin his attempts to sever the line, Dick saw that the Eskimo hunters were\npaddling fast toward him and that they would soon reach a point where\ntheir harpoons could finish the narwhal.\nCompletely maddened by the pain of his wound, and the constant drag of\nthe kayack, the narwhal seemed to have lost all fear of man, for when\nhis short-sighted eyes caught sight of the Eskimo hunters he made\nstraight toward them, his great mouth wide open and revealing a\nfrightful toothless cavern under the long sword-like tusk.\nBut the hunters did not give way save to give the narwhal room to pass\nbetween them. Seven harpoons impaled the narwhal as he dashed in among\nthe kayacks, and his speed was lessened by half. Soon the monster was\nfloundering about in a welter of blood, growing weaker and weaker.\nAs soon as the Eskimos had the situation well in hand, Dick cut away his\nharpoon line and made all haste to paddle to shore. The icy water that\nhad splashed into his shirt through his hood was already numbing him\nwith cold. Before he got to shore his nose lost all sense of feeling,\nthen suffered a burning sensation as if it had come in contact with a\nhot iron. Dick knew then that he had frozen his nose. Beaching the\nkayack, he grabbed up his mittens full of snow and buried his face in\nthis frost absorbing application as he ran for the igloo and an oil\nstove.\nA half hour later Sandy burst through the round door of their igloo to\nfind his chum nursing a badly frosted face. Dick\u2019s nose and cheeks were\nas white as tallow and he was writhing with pain as the blood commenced\nto circulate again in the frozen tissues.\n\u201cGee, you got it bad, didn\u2019t you,\u201d Sandy sympathized. \u201cBut, say, when\nyou see that big narwhal laid out on the shore, you\u2019ll think it was\nworth it. It was sure game of you to hang on to that fellow when you\ncould as easily as not cut loose your line.\u201d Dick smiled bravely through\nhis burning pains. \u201cI don\u2019t know as I deserve all that flattery, Sandy.\nWhen that whale started to dive, I\u2019d have slashed the rope if I could\nhave located it. But the water blinded me.\u201d\nThe following day Dick\u2019s face was well enough for him to go out into the\noutside air, so long as he kept bundled up to his eyes. He walked down\nto the beach with Sandy where the narwhal had been towed in.\nThough not nearly so large as the common species of whale inhabiting the\nseas further south, the narwhal was fully sixteen feet long, not\nincluding the six-foot tusk of twisted ivory that extended from his\nblunt nose, and must have weighed several thousand pounds. The Eskimos\nhad already begun to cut up the enormous masses of blubber and to\nextract the whalebone from the jaws. Dick procured a small piece of the\nbone as a keep-sake, though for the present his frosted nose was enough\nto keep the episode in his memory for several weeks to come.\nDick felt that his face was in no condition for him to stay out long\nthat day, and so after the mid-day meal Sandy ventured out alone with\nhis rifle to see if he could not knock down a few eider ducks and gather\nmore of their eggs.\nSandy wandered along the sea shore in the direction of the cairn they\nhad erected near the meteorite. He shot two eider ducks and located a\ndozen fresh eggs in the nests, which he collected in a leather bag. This\ndone, he walked down to the shore ice and sat down upon a lump, his feet\nhanging over the lapping water.\nHe had sat there idly gazing to sea for about five minutes when he\nnoticed a queer object bobbing about in the water about twenty feet from\nshore. It was dark and round, attracting Sandy\u2019s curiosity immediately.\nAfter considerable maneuvering he managed to fish it out with the muzzle\nof his rifle.\nWhat Sandy picked up in his hands was a large canteen or thermos bottle,\nused on expeditions in the polar regions. It was covered with sodden\nleather and evidently had been afloat for a long period of time.\nSlowly turning the bottle over in his hands, Sandy found carved in the\nleather this inscription:\nAn ejaculation of amazement and of triumph burst from Sandy\u2019s lips, and\nforgetting all about his ducks and eggs, he set out at a run for the\ncamp, the canteen hugged tightly under one arm.\n                        THE FLOATING MANUSCRIPT\nWhen Sandy burst into the igloo with his precious find clutched to his\nbreast he found Dick asleep. He shook his chum out of the sleeping bag\nin a hurry.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s all the excitement about?\u201d Dick mumbled rubbing the sleep out of\nhis eyes.\n\u201cSomething from Corporal Thalman,\u201d Sandy cried, thrusting the canteen\nunder Dick\u2019s eyes.\nDick started forward as he read the words carved in the leather, and\nuttered a cry of astonishment.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s an axe? Let\u2019s break the bottle open and see what\u2019s inside!\nWon\u2019t Corporal McCarthy open his eyes when he sees this!\u201d Dick was even\nmore excited than Sandy.\nA moment later they had split the bottle as carefully as they could and\nfrom the inside extracted a tightly rolled strip of leather, about the\nwidth of an ordinary sheet of writing paper.\nThe leather apparently had been cut from an old shirt. Unrolled, it\npresented a mass of words and a crude map, carved in the leather by\nsomething in the nature of a sharp stone.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a message from Corporal Thalman!\u201d exclaimed Dick, deciphering the\ninitials, \u201cC. T.\u201d and the abbreviation for \u201cRoyal Northwest Mounted\nPolice.\u201d\n\u201cAnd that map shows where he is!\u201d Sandy cried.\n\u201cRight now it looks the same as Greek to me,\u201d Dick admitted, frowning\nover the wandering lines, crosses and data. \u201cLet\u2019s read the script and\nsee if that will help.\u201d\nThe following is what the boys read from the strange manuscript:\n  \u201cIf Fate is kind and this bottle and message fall into friendly hands,\n  I desire the nearest post of the R.N.W. M.P. be notified that the\n  undersigned is now being unlawfully held a prisoner on a glacial\n  island several miles off the northern coast of Grant Land, about half\n  way between Cape Columbia and Cape Richards.\n  \u201cDetailed to apprehend a half-breed Eskimo murderer, I picked up his\n  trail on the barrens and followed him to this island where a band of\n  outlaws, led by Mistak, surprised and captured me.\n  \u201cI calculate I have been imprisoned about six months in an ice-sealed\n  pit at the bottom of a glacier, which seems to have been formed by an\n  eruption ages ago. The pit has an outlet above my head into one of the\n  large fissures in the top strata of the glacier, which I have tried to\n  locate by means of the accompanying map. One side of the pit is formed\n  of ice many feet thick. By weeks of work I cut my way through this\n  into a series of grottoes or caverns lined with crystallized ice.\n  However, I have so far been unable to find any outlet to the surface\n  of the glacier and the caverns are so cold that I cannot spend much\n  time in them.\n  \u201cThe pit is warmer due to what I believe to be hot springs miles\n  beneath me. A small underground stream of tepid, fresh water, tasting\n  slightly of sulphur, runs across the floor of the pit, out of one wall\n  into another, and upon this I shall set this canteen afloat, hoping by\n  some miracle of good fortune that it will reach the sea and there be\n  discovered.\n  \u201cMistak furnishes me every so often with a supply of seal blubber\n  which he drops down from the top of the pit. I do not know why he\n  keeps me alive, except out of fiendish desire to see me suffer.\n  \u201cAnyone attempting to locate me may do so in two ways\u2014by means of the\n  fissure into which this pit opens, or from the crystal grottoes. Since\n  I have been unable to find an outlet to the grottoes, that method of\n  reaching the pit seems impractical, and I have directed all my efforts\n  on this map toward guiding a rescuing party to the fissure.\n  \u201cProvided Mistak does not neglect bringing me food for too long a\n  period, I shall be alive when this is read, though I notice some\n  symptoms of scurvy.\n  \u201cI now set this canteen adrift with its message, trusting in\n  Providence to guide it into the hands of those who will understand the\n  suffering and peril of my plight, and act accordingly.\nDick and Sandy finished reading the message at about the same time, yet\nthey did not draw from it quite the same conclusions.\n\u201cThen I found the canteen after it had been floating and drifting for\nnearly two months,\u201d Sandy spoke, still awed by the importance of his\ndiscovery.\n\u201cYes, as Corporal Thalman hoped, his message found its way to the sea\nfrom some underground stream,\u201d Dick rejoined.\nUpon re-examining the map they satisfied themselves that the glacial\nisland drawn there was the one they were now camping upon. They traced\nthe trail by which they had come along the east side of the ridge, and\nrejoiced to find that the meteor stone indicated by the cross must be\nidentical with the one they had found. Estimating on a basis of the\nscale of miles drawn by Corporal Thalman, they found they were encamped\nnot more than five miles from the point at which the Corporal had been\ncaptured eight months before, and hardly thirty miles, allowing for\ndetours, from the actual prison pit.\n\u201cOh, boy! This is more thrilling than looking for lost mines!\u201d Sandy\ncried exuberantly.\n\u201cIt\u2019s even more risky,\u201d Dick returned, \u201cand in this case it\u2019s just as\ndifficult. There must be a lot of inaccuracies in this map. The location\nhere may be pretty near ten miles off. I wish the policemen were here to\nhelp. This is really too big a job for us.\u201d\n\u201cWouldn\u2019t it be a feather in our caps if we found Corporal Thalman all\nby ourselves!\u201d Sandy puffed out his chest.\nDick admitted that it would, though he reprimanded Sandy for his\nexaggeration of their capabilities.\n\u201cBefore we get ready to hunt for the Corporal we must draw a copy of\nthis map and leave it for Corporal McCarthy,\u201d Dick directed. \u201cIf they\ndon\u2019t return before we leave on a search for the fissure, the copy will\ngive them all the information they need to work on their own accord.\u201d\nAn hour later the boys had completed a copy of the map and message,\ndetail by detail, and prepared for a few hours rest before they started\nfor the glacier.\nThe boys awakened after nearly eight hours sleep, to find that the\npolicemen had not yet returned. They immediately set about harnessing a\ndog team and loading a sledge with a few days\u2019 supplies. They intended\nto hunt musk-oxen also on their trip inland, and in that way kill two\nbirds with one stone. Provided they failed to locate Corporal Thalman\u2019s\nprison, they could at least bring back a sledge load of musk-ox meat.\nSince Sipsa and his Eskimos could be depended upon to take care of the\ncamp, Dick decided that Toma should go with them if he liked, and found\nthe Indian boy overjoyed at the opportunity to escape the dullness of\nlife at the supply base.\nAfter bidding the grinning, moon-faced Sipsa good-bye, the boys started\nout, driving their dog team at a gallop. It was not long before they\nreached a point below the head of the glacial ridge from which they\ncould see the meteor stone near which they had built the cairn.\nFrom there they began to count their strides\u2014approximately 1,760 to a\nmile, and three miles to the spot where Corporal Thalman had been\nattacked and captured by Mistak and his band. Dick and Sandy both\ncounted their steps so they might check against each other when the\nrequired distance was covered.\nAt last they reached a mass of boulders sticking up out of the snow\nwhich was within a quarter mile of the distance on the map.\n\u201cThis looks like a likely place for a man to be surprised and captured,\u201d\nsaid Dick, signaling them to halt. He referred to the map. \u201cAccording to\nthe route laid out here, Mistak bore slightly to the left when he went\non with his captive.\u201d\nWith this in mind they passed the boulders and came out on a broad,\nsnow-covered tundra stretching for several miles inland from the sea and\nending abruptly some miles south in towering walls of ice that marked\nthe position of the glacier.\nDriving southwest, the three boys began the long trek across the tundra,\nhoping they might soon sight the abandoned igloos indicated on the map\nas the next landmark.\nBut two hours of steady mushing failed to raise anything resembling a\nhabitation. The tundra still stretched monotonously ahead of them, the\ncountless acres of snow glaring in their eyes as it reflected the sun\u2019s\nrays.\nDick called a halt and the three boys gathered about the sledge,\npermitting the dogs to lie down and rest their tired legs.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to use our heads now,\u201d said Dick. \u201cCorporal Thalman has\neither underestimated the distance from the point of his capture to the\nigloos, or else we\u2019re traveling in the wrong direction.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I\u2019d say,\u201d put in Sandy, \u201cthat no Eskimo would build an igloo out\non this level plain where it would catch the full force of all the\nstorms that blew down from the pole.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right, Sandy,\u201d announced Dick. \u201cThose igloos must have been\nbuilt where there was some sort of wind break. Suppose we swing around\ndue south until we get into the rough country on the outskirts of the\nglacier.\u201d\n\u201cThat seems to be about the best plan,\u201d Sandy rejoined. \u201cIt\u2019s a cinch\nthere\u2019s nothing north of us as far as the sea.\u201d\n\u201cMe no savvy,\u201d Toma muttered, and Dick promised to explain the map more\nthoroughly when they pitched camp.\nThe distance to the glacier was deceiving. It was fully an hour after\nthey changed their course before they struck the first break in the\ntundra and began to climb upward along the ravine down the trough of\nwhich the glacier had flung out a finger centuries before.\nWhen they had climbed to a height nearly a hundred feet above the tundra\nthey paused to reconnoiter. Approximating their position on Corporal\nThalman\u2019s map, they judged themselves to be in a big bend in the\nformation of the glacier. Far ahead, over the various hills and ridges,\nthey could see where the vast mass of ice broadened and began its slide\nto the sea.\n\u201cYou know what I think,\u201d Dick broke a long silence, \u201cthose igloos are\nright under the walls of the glacier where it flows down to the sea.\u201d\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t wonder but what you\u2019re right,\u201d Sandy replied dubiously, \u201cbut\nwhy not go on pretty slow so we can examine all the territory between us\nand where the glacier turns?\u201d\n\u201cBetter yet,\u201d Dick sanctioned. \u201cWe can\u2019t be too thorough. For all we\nknow, every mistake we make in reading this map may be just like\npounding another nail in Corporal Thalman\u2019s coffin.\u201d\n\u201cUgh!\u201d Sandy shivered at the thought, as they started out again.\nWith an interval of some hundred yards between them, the boys proceeded,\nToma in the center driving the dog team. Almost any of the sheltered\nspots in the vicinity of the glacier might hide half a dozen igloos, and\nthey were not going to pass up any likely places if they could help it.\nThe boys were growing weary, indeed, when Sandy, considerably in the\nlead, stopped dead still upon a mound of ice, and let out a cheer like\nan Indian war whoop.\n\u201cThere they are! There they are!\u201d his shout was faintly borne to the\nears of Dick and Toma.\nThe two forced their tired legs into a staggering run, which soon\nbrought them up with Sandy.\nBelow them, snug on the southern slope of a pyramid of glacial drift,\nwere the abandoned igloos.\nThey had located the second landmark on the trail to Corporal Thalman\u2019s\nprison!\nAfter locating the six abandoned igloos, the boys were too tired to go\non without a rest, and they immediately unharnessed the dogs and pitched\ntheir tupiks or tents. They soon were gathered about a tiny camp stove\nlistening to the musical murmurings of a pot of tea.\n\u201cWell, so far so good,\u201d said Dick, stretching his legs and lying back\ncomfortably. \u201cIf we have no more trouble than this tracing Corporal\nThalman\u2019s route the rest of the way, we can pat ourselves on the back.\u201d\n\u201cYes, and we\u2019d better make quick work of it,\u201d Sandy rejoined. \u201cDo you\nnotice how low the sun is getting these days? Pretty soon we\u2019ll begin to\nhave twilight, and that means winter is about with us.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean the long night,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWell, in a way I hope we get our\nbusiness done up here before winter sets in, and in a way I don\u2019t.\u201d\n\u201cWhy?\u201d Sandy asked, puzzled.\n\u201cIt must be a wonderful experience,\u201d Dick returned, \u201cto live four months\nwithout seeing the sun, nothing but the stars and once in a while the\nmoon to give any light. And not even the stars when it\u2019s cloudy. They\nsay it gets so dark during the long night up here that you can pretty\nnear reach out of your igloos and bring in a handful of darkness.\u201d\n\u201cThat must be awful,\u201d Sandy wagged his head ruefully. \u201cI can\u2019t see what\nyou want to endure all that for. Think of the thermometer going down to\n60 degrees below zero, and what if we ran out of food?\u201d\n\u201cI guess we could winter up here alright if we had to do it,\u201d Dick\nreturned. \u201cThe Eskimos are laying up tons of walrus and seal blubber.\nBesides, there\u2019s that narwhal, and we\u2019re going to bag a few musk-oxen\npretty soon.\u201d\n\u201cMe no like um blubber,\u201d Toma spoke up vehemently. \u201cNo eat um blubber\nall winter.\u201d\n\u201cMe too,\u201d Sandy agreed emphatically.\n\u201cI guess you fellows would think blubber was pretty good if there wasn\u2019t\nanything else to chew on except sealskin boots.\u201d\nThe conversation had grown unpleasant in this vein, so the boys changed\nthe subject to the map, which Dick spread out in the snow and explained\nto Toma, as he had promised. But their eyes soon grew heavy with sleep,\nand after finishing their scanty rations of frozen bear meat, they\nretired, Dick standing the first watch.\nWhen each of them had had about five hours\u2019 rest, they ate more bear\nmeat, drank a pot of tea and were ready for the trail. The problem now\nahead of them was the scaling of the glacier, towering in a low range of\nmountains about two miles from the abandoned igloos. The map indicated\nno exact route to the top of the glacier, except that from the abandoned\nigloos there was a change of course somewhat to the southwest.\nThey had been on the trail only half an hour when Toma\u2019s keen eyes\ndetected signs of musk-oxen. The Indian boy showed Dick and Sandy the\nmarks of the hoofs in the snow.\n\u201cWe\u2019d better see if we can\u2019t shoot a few of the fellows that made these\ntracks,\u201d Dick advised. \u201cWe can leave the meat cached in ice and covered\nwith stones. Then when we return we can pick it up on an empty sledge.\u201d\nSandy was eager for the hunt and so the boys swung off the course they\nhad been following, and began trailing the musk-oxen. The tracks were\nquite fresh and they all looked at their rifles to see that they were\nready for quick shooting. Since they never before had hunted musk-oxen,\nthey did not know just what to expect.\nThey had trailed the musk-oxen about half a mile when, climbing out of a\nravine, they came suddenly upon them. There were five of the strange\ncreatures huddled in a circle, tail to tail, save for one, who stood out\nfrom the rest facing the young hunters. For several minutes the boys\nstood still before the shaggy beasts, who seemed not to fear them in the\nleast. Dick was first to shake off his attack of \u201cbuck fever.\u201d Raising\nhis rifle, he took careful aim at the animal nearest them. He chose a\nvulnerable spot, and at the crack of his rifle, the musk-ox sank to his\nknees, tried ineffectually to rise, and at last rolled over and expired.\nDick\u2019s shot awakened Sandy and Toma from the trance into which the first\nsight of the creatures had thrown them, and each of them picked an\nanimal from the band, bringing them down with a shot each. All fired\nagain, and though the last of the five made an awkward attempt to run\naway, they brought it down together.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a shame to shoot such quiet, peaceful brutes,\u201d said Sandy as they\nhurried up to the brownish forms in the snow.\n\u201cThat meat means life for us,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cand maybe God put them\nhere for just that purpose.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s feeling of remorse over the shooting of the musk-oxen soon\ndisappeared after they reached the fallen herd. As zoological specimens\nthe musk-oxen were food for thought, and when the boys had finished\nexamining the huge gnarled horns and the broad, rounded backs, there was\nthe cutting up of the meat to be performed. So intent did they become\nupon the latter task that for a time they forgot entirely their\nsurroundings.\nIt was Toma whose sharp ears first sensed that they were not alone. He\nspoke a few guttural words to Dick and Sandy in an undertone, and all\nthree reached for their rifles. When they turned to face the ravine up\nwhich they had climbed just before sighting the musk-oxen, they could\nhear the crunch of snowshoes. Prepared for the worst, they brought their\nrifles to their hips and cocked them.\nA scowling, fur-bordered face appeared over the edge of the ravine,\npaused a moment, then finished the climb followed by two more\nunprepossessing individuals clad in worn, soiled furs. The three paused\non the brow of the ravine, silently inspecting the boys.\nDick recognized the one who was in advance of the others as the white\nman he had seen in Mistak\u2019s band. He was certain the other two were\nlikewise outlaws.\n\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d called Dick.\n\u201cNothin\u2019 pertic\u2019lar, yonker,\u201d replied the white man. \u201cIt just happens\nwe\u2019ve been a-huntin\u2019 these here musk-ox you\u2019se has shot.\u201d\n\u201cIt happens we saw them before you did,\u201d returned Dick suspiciously.\n\u201cWal, I guess you wuz luckier than we\u2019ns, but that\u2019s no call f\u2019r us to\nhold a grudge against each other,\u201d said the man, starting forward.\n\u201cThat\u2019s far enough!\u201d Dick\u2019s clear voice rang out in the icy air, as the\nrifle came to his shoulder. He was sure the three outlaws meant no good,\nand made sure he had some advantage if it came to open hostilities.\nThe white man paused and scowled. \u201cThink y\u2019r pretty sly, eh! I guess I\noughta agreed with Mistak \u2019bout puttin\u2019 you yonkers out of business\nwhile we had the chance.\u201d\n\u201cIt happens I overheard you talking to Mistak about that when you\nthought Sandy and I were asleep in the igloo. You suggested we be put\nwith Corporal Thalman,\u201d Dick replied sternly.\nThe white man started visibly. \u201cThalman!\u201d his voice came hoarsely from\nhis bearded lips. \u201cWhat do you yonkers know \u2019bout Thalman?\u201d There was\nplain menace in the man\u2019s attitude now.\nDick was almost on the point of blurting out some valuable information,\nwhen he caught himself.\n\u201cNothing,\u201d he answered reservedly, \u201conly the Mounted Police are looking\nfor\u2014er\u2014his body.\u201d\n\u201cI reckon that\u2019s all they\u2019ll find, an\u2019 it\u2019s pretty doubtful if they find\nthat,\u201d sneered Mistak\u2019s man, seeming relieved that the boys apparently\nhad no specific knowledge of Corporal Thalman\u2019s fate.\nHad the man dreamed of the manuscript that had floated into Sandy\u2019s\nhands, of the map now reposing in Dick\u2019s pocket, he probably would have\nsignaled his companions to attack then and there. But he did not.\n\u201cYou fellers ain\u2019t goin\u2019 to let us go away empty handed,\u201d the outlaw\nresumed, wheedlingly, looking hungrily at the five dead musk-oxen.\n\u201cShall we let them have some meat?\u201d Dick asked Sandy, without taking his\neyes from the outlaws, who were also covered by the rifles of Sandy and\nToma.\n\u201cYes,\u201d Sandy replied. \u201cLet them have one of the musk-oxen. They\u2019ll go\naway and leave us alone then.\u201d\nToma\u2019s sanction to the gift was given by a mere grunt.\n\u201cWe\u2019ve decided to let you have one of the musk-oxen since you\u2019re\nhungry,\u201d Dick told the spokesman of the three. \u201cBut it\u2019s not because we\nfear you or think we owe it to you.\u201d\nThe white man turned to the half-breed Indians and muttered a few words\nin a foreign tongue. The boys indicated the musk-oxen farthest away from\nthem as the one the men should take, and, keeping their rifles ready for\nany trickery that might be enacted, they watched the outlaws hasten\nforward and attack the meat with their knives.\nSoon the men had the animal quartered and had slung the fresh meat to\ntheir backs. The two half-breeds turned and climbed back into the ravine\nwith their load, but the white outlaw tarried for a parting word.\n\u201cThis country ain\u2019t healthy f\u2019r you fellers,\u201d he leered at them. \u201cI\u2019m\ngivin\u2019 y\u2019r a tip on the strength o\u2019 this meat. I ain\u2019t sayin\u2019 I\u2019m in\nlove with Mistak, but I reckon I hate the Mounted more. My moniker is\nMoonshine Sam, if you fellers want ter know, an\u2019 it\u2019s the Mounted that\u2019s\nchased me into this God-f\u2019rsaken land. They ain\u2019t goin\u2019 to git me here.\nGit that? Not afore I git me two more policemen!\u201d\nDick\u2019s rifle came up quickly at the grim threat in the outlaw\u2019s words,\nbut Moonshine Sam turned abruptly and followed his companions down into\nthe ravine.\nWhen the three were out of sight the boys breathed sighs of relief. It\nhad been a trying ordeal, and they felt themselves fortunate in coming\nthrough it without blood-shed.\n\u201cI wish we could have captured them,\u201d Sandy expressed something that had\nbeen in Dick\u2019s mind also.\n\u201cBut it was too risky,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cYou must remember they were grown\nmen, and among the most desperate characters the Mounted has to deal\nwith. If we\u2019d tried to capture them they\u2019d have finished us before we\nreached the home camp.\u201d\nSandy saw the logic in Dick\u2019s reasoning and said no more about it, while\nthey set to work completing the skinning and quartering of the remaining\nfour musk-oxen.\n\u201cI think we\u2019d better haul the meat away from here before we cache it,\u201d\nDick advised, when they were about finished. \u201cThose fellows will\nprobably come back here as soon as we leave, and search for a cache.\u201d\n\u201cMaybe it would be a good idea to follow them for a ways to see where\nthey are going. They might lead us right to Corporal Thalman\u2019s prison,\u201d\nwas Sandy\u2019s suggestion.\n\u201cThat\u2019s possible and it\u2019s a good idea,\u201d said Dick. \u201cBut supposing they\nstrike off in some other direction, and lead us right into the rest of\nMistak\u2019s band?\u201d\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know,\u201d Sandy considered.\n\u201cTake um meat \u2019long for way,\u201d Toma spoke up gravely. \u201cWhen find out bad\nfella not mean to come back here, cache meat.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s just the thing to do!\u201d exclaimed Dick. \u201cWe won\u2019t lose any time\nthat way and we\u2019ll be pretty sure the meat will not be stolen when we\ncome back after it.\u201d\nIn a few minutes the fresh meat was loaded onto the long sledge and they\nwere once more on the way.\nThe outlaws had had time to travel about half a mile before the boys set\nout on their trail, and even Toma\u2019s keen eyes saw no sign of them as\nthey wound down the ravine. Dick hoped, as Sandy had, that the outlaws\nmight lead them to the vicinity of Corporal Thalman\u2019s prison. Yet, when\ntwo miles on the trail, the snowshoe tracks they were following swung\ntoward the sea, Dick knew no such good fortune was destined to be\ntheirs. Half hoping the outlaws might turn toward the glacier again, the\nboys kept on following them for a short time, but soon gave up, deciding\nto depend entirely upon the map to guide them.\nTracing the back trail until they reached the point where they had\nturned north after the outlaws, the boys halted to cache their meat,\nsince they were now reasonably certain that Mistak\u2019s men did not intend\nto come back looking for it.\nThey first buried all the meat, except enough for four days\u2019 rations, in\na deep snow bank. Then, from a nearby patch of boulder strewn slope they\ncarried a great many stones, erecting a sort of monument over the cache\nto prevent its being torn up by foxes. Over this cairn, they threw snow\nuntil it resembled, from a distance, the rest of the snowdrift. About a\nhundred feet north of the cache a small pile of stones was placed, as a\nlandmark provided a storm came and obliterated all other signs of the\ncache.\nThe job of stowing the meat completed, the boys once more set out for\nthe glacier. Driving fast, they reached the towering walls of ice and\nsnow in about an hour. Calling a halt they surveyed with sinking hearts\nthe tremendous task that lay before them.\n\u201cI wonder if this is the place where Mistak climbed the glacier with his\nprisoner,\u201d Dick speculated.\n\u201cLooks to me like a mountain goat would have a hard time getting to the\ntop from this point,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cHeap big job get um sledge up ice from here. Look \u2019long wall. Maybe\nfind easy place,\u201d suggested Toma.\n\u201cI think that\u2019s what we\u2019d better do,\u201d Sandy agreed with the young\nIndian.\nDick also thought it best they should look for an easier place to climb,\nand so they turned to the right under the walls of the glacier and drove\nthe dog team slowly along, their necks craned upward.\nThe grumbling noises in the bowels of the glacier gave cause for grave\nconcern in the minds of the boys and they fell silent, dreading more and\nmore the peril of ascending that mountain of ice.\nNot far from the place where they had first approached the glacier, they\nfound the walls split as by a giant\u2019s axe and a great gorge led upward\nat a slant which promised fairly easy climbing. Turning into this they\nstarted upward.\nA quarter mile of steady climbing, covered by helping the dogs with the\nsupply sledge, and they found themselves about a hundred feet above the\ntundra. Here, they paused for a much needed rest. Probably five minutes\nthey had sat in the snow, gathering strength for the next lap of the\nclimb, when a low rumble fell upon their ears which seemed nearer than\nany other noises they had heard from the glacier.\nWith faces paling, the boys listened intently, while the rumble\nincreased to a roar, growing steadily nearer.\nDick leaped up and looked up the gorge, a sudden suspicion leaping in\nhis mind that froze him with consternation.\nHe was about to speak when the unmistakable sound of crashing, moving\nice was borne to his ears. Around a bend in the gorge appeared a\ngigantic mass of snow, ice and stones which struck the opposite wall of\nthe gorge with a shock that made the earth tremble under foot and sent a\nshower of fine ice and snow high into the air.\n\u201cRun for your lives!\u201d cried Dick hoarsely. \u201cIt\u2019s an avalanche, and we\u2019re\nright in its path!\u201d\nFear lent wings to the three boys as they saw the awful wall of snow and\nice bounding down the gorge upon them. With one accord they rushed\ntoward the steep slope on their left, scrambling up it in frantic\nefforts to gain a height out of reach of the avalanche, before it\ndescended and crushed them under its ponderous plunging weight.\nThe dog team sensed its peril instinctively and struggled after the\nboys, dragging the heavy sledge behind them. Toma, slightly in the rear,\ngrasped the sledge and began helping the dogs in their unequal fight for\nsafety.\n\u201cLeave the sledge go!\u201d shouted Dick to the young Indian. \u201cSave\nyourself.\u201d\nBut the courageous Toma did not heed. Stubbornly, he stayed by the\nsledge, falling far behind his companions.\nThen, with a roar that shook the walls of the gorge as if an earthquake\nhad occurred, the avalanche plunged past on its way to the tundra far\nbelow.\nDick and Sandy barely escaped the flying ice and stones and with a cry\nof despair they saw Toma with the sledge and dog team vanish in a swirl\nof flying snow.\nThe avalanche thundered on, sight and sound of it dying away down the\ngorge as quickly as it had come. Dick and Sandy were left high on the\nwall of the desolate gorge, gazing with sad eyes at the point where Toma\nand the dog team had disappeared.\n\u201cIt happened so suddenly I can hardly realize it,\u201d Sandy spoke in a low\nvoice. \u201cPoor Toma.\u201d\n\u201cI won\u2019t give up hope yet,\u201d Dick declared grimly. \u201cToma was not caught\nby the full force of the avalanche. You must remember he and the dogs\nwere almost out of the way when they were hit. Let\u2019s look along the\nslope.\u201d\nSandy followed Dick to the bottom of the gorge, and the two began\npicking their way along the path of the avalanche. Every now and then\nhuge masses of snow, left adhering to the walls of the gorge, loosened\nand fell, starting miniature snow slides in their wake, but Dick and\nSandy kept their eyes open and managed to avoid these dangers by a wide\nmargin.\nThey had retraced their upward trail about two hundred yards when there\nwas borne to their ears the faint but unmistakable bark of a dog.\n\u201cListen!\u201d Dick grasped Sandy\u2019s arm, as they stopped dead still.\nAgain there echoed in the canyon the sharp bark of an excited dog.\n\u201cIt sounds like one of our Eskimo dogs,\u201d Sandy spoke in a subdued voice,\nscarcely able to believe his ears. \u201cBut for the life of me I can\u2019t tell\nwhere it comes from.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s walk on a little further,\u201d Dick suggested.\nThey continued on their way for a few steps, then stopped again. The dog\nhad barked again, and now the sound seemed to come from above and behind\nthem.\n\u201cWhy not shout Toma\u2019s name?\u201d said Sandy. \u201cIf he\u2019s alive he\u2019ll hear us.\u201d\nDick thought this an excellent idea and in unison they raised their\nvoices.\n\u201cToma! Toma!\u201d they shouted at the tops of their lungs, and paused to\nlisten intently.\nA second of silence, then the faraway crags of the glacier threw back\ntheir cries like mocking laughter.\nDrawing deep breaths for another shout, they hesitated. Several dogs had\ncommenced to bark, and were making a veritable bedlam of racket, what\nwith the echoes that were flying about.\n\u201cIt\u2019s our dogs!\u201d ejaculated the amazed boys.\n\u201cCome on. Toma may be alive,\u201d Dick sang out, charging up the slope of\nthe gorge, with Sandy close at his heels.\nHalf way up the side of the gorge they came suddenly upon the dogs in a\nsnow filled ledge. There were ten of the twelve dogs alive and well, the\nother two had been crushed to death under a huge boulder deposited there\nby the avalanche. The sledge of supplies, badly twisted and smashed, lay\noverturned, half-buried in the snow, but still hitched to the tangled\ndogs. Eagerly the boys searched the wreckage, but at first there was no\nsign of Toma. Then one of the dogs, whining plaintively, began pawing\ninto a heap of packed snow. The boys rushed to the dog and found he had\nuncovered a boot. Silently, the boys attacked the packed snow with\nmittens and boots, and in five minutes they dragged their young Indian\nfriend free of the lodged snow.\n\u201cPray he\u2019s alive!\u201d Dick implored, as they lay the quiet form upon some\nsledge packing.\nToma\u2019s dark face was darker still, as if he had smothered, yet as the\nboys chafed his hands and listened for heart beats, a flicker of eye\nlashes showed a sign of life. Redoubling their efforts to bring the boy\nback, they were finally rewarded by a deep sigh from the dusky lips, and\npresently Toma\u2019s dark eyes were open.\n\u201cHumph!\u201d Toma grunted as he sat up uncertainly, and vigorously shook\nhimself like a big dog. \u201cNo can breathe under snow. Think um see Happy\nHunting Grounds.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s a miracle you didn\u2019t!\u201d exclaimed Dick fervently.\n\u201cTell us how it all happened,\u201d Sandy urged.\n\u201cNot know much,\u201d Toma blinked, \u201ccome too quick. Something hit me. I see\nmany stars, an\u2019 whirl, whirl in snow. Feel like fly like bird, then big\nbump. All still. I can no breathe. All get like night, then I see you\nfellas.\u201d\nOverjoyed at the recovery of Toma, the boys could do little but discuss\nthe narrow escape for some time. Finally they set to work untangling the\ndogs, and when that was done they started to repair the sledge.\nIt took more than three hours to fix the sledge so it was worthy of the\ntrail, but they at last had the worst breaks spliced and lashed with\nleather thongs. By this time they were all so tired that they decided to\npitch camp and fix something to eat. This they did as soon as they were\non the floor of the gorge.\n\u201cWe don\u2019t need to be afraid of any more snow slides for some time to\ncome,\u201d Dick relieved their fears in that direction. \u201cAll the loose ice\nand stones was cleared out by that big avalanche.\u201d\nAfter an appetizing meal of broiled musk-ox, the boys slept for several\nhours. When they awakened they noticed for the first time a change in\nthe sunlight, and were concerned at the approach of winter which this\nsignaled.\n\u201cSeems strange to see evening come again,\u201d remarked Sandy. \u201cWonder how\nit would feel to go to bed in honest-to-goodness darkness again?\u201d\n\u201cIf we don\u2019t get a move on we\u2019ll get more darkness than we want,\u201d said\nDick, referring to the approach of the Arctic\u2019s long night.\nBut when the boys started up the gorge again it was no darker. So far,\nall the night they were to experience for a few weeks was to be several\nhours of twilight.\nNot far up the gorge, beyond the point where the avalanche had narrowly\nmissed destroying them, Dick called the attention of his chum to three\ntiny figures walking along the rim of the gorge above them.\n\u201cI wonder if those men could be Moonshine Sam and his two companions,\u201d\nsaid Dick. \u201cThey\u2019ve had just about time to come this far if they had\nheaded this way shortly after we stopped trailing them.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I hope they won\u2019t try any monkeyshines like starting another\navalanche,\u201d Sandy shivered. \u201cWhen I die I don\u2019t want to get that kind of\na sendoff for the Happy Hunting Grounds. What do you say, Toma?\u201d\nThe young Indian grunted his emphatic sanction of Sandy\u2019s preferences,\nwhile all three watched the men on the cliff. The men they thought might\nbe Moonshine Sam and the two half-breeds from Mistak\u2019s band, kept\nabreast of the boys for nearly a half hour, then as the gorge began to\ngrow shallower upon nearing the plateau down from which it led, they\ndisappeared.\n\u201cIf they ever get wind of the fact that we know Corporal Thalman is\nstill alive, our lives won\u2019t be worth a cent,\u201d Dick expressed his\nthoughts aloud. \u201cThey\u2019ll put an end to Corporal Thalman right away, too,\nif they think for a minute we have a chance to rescue him\u2014if they\nhaven\u2019t done that already.\u201d\nThe boys hurried on, and soon came out of the gorge upon what they were\nquite sure was the top of the glacier. An icy wind, that cut to the very\nmarrow of their bones, blew across the vast, white field of ice. But\nthey struck out bravely across the lonely forbidding desert of the\nnorth, hoping soon to locate the first of the three main fissures marked\non the map.\nThey were now traveling southwest with the sun in their eyes, and for\nthe first time since they saw genuine \u201csun-dogs.\u201d The phenomenon was\nintensely interesting and for a time attracted almost all their\nattention. The sun-dogs were in the form of four miniature suns situated\none above, one below, and one on either side of the big disc of light\nthat was the source of them. They were not really suns, however, but\nreflections of the sun upon the countless particles of frost in the air.\nOne of the \u201cdogs\u201d was somewhat like the rainbow, for it seemed to hang\njust a few feet ahead of the dog team, dancing just out of reach, like a\nwill-o\u2019-the-wisp, as they plodded along.\nThen they came upon a deep fissure in the glacier which temporarily\ncrowded the sun-dogs out of their minds. The crack was not an\nexceptionally large one in comparison to other glacial fissures they had\nseen, being only about four feet across at the widest points. Several\nsmaller fissures were indicated on the map as preceding the first main\nfissure, so the boys crossed the gap by jumping, improvising a bridge\nwith the sledge for those dogs to cross over which were too stubborn to\nmake the leap.\n\u201cWe may be misled after all by these fissures,\u201d Dick spoke when they had\nresumed their journey \u201cNew cracks form pretty often, and it\u2019s possible\nthe main fissures Corporal Thalman observed while Mistak was taking him\nto the prison pit are not the main ones any longer.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know about that,\u201d Sandy replied. \u201cA lot of small fissures\nmight show up in eight months\u2019 time, but these big fissures are very old\nand they wouldn\u2019t change much.\u201d\nBy this time they had reached another small fissure, about the size of\nthe first one, but much longer. As far as they could see on either side\nof them the crooked crack stretched away like a huge, black snake,\nwriggling across the snow-bound glacier roof.\nKeeping a rough account of the miles they had traversed since reaching\nthe top of the glacier, they believed the first main fissure could not\nbe far away according to the map. An hour after crossing the first small\nfissure, they reached what they were almost certain was the first main\nfissure. In places it yawned to an unestimable depth, and at many points\nwas more than twenty feet in width. After sledging along the rim of it\nfor a half mile they located a natural bridge of ice over which they\ncrossed without mishap.\nExcited by their success so far, they increased their pace, again\ncrossing numerous small chasms in the glacier before arriving at the rim\nof the second main fissure. This they finally contrived to bridge at a\npoint where a jutting ice ledge partly spanned the seemingly bottomless\nvoid.\nFrom there on, the top of the glacier ceased to be level. Great holes\nyawned everywhere amidst heaps of shattered ice many feet in height.\nApparently, at some time years ago, two divisions of the glacier had met\nthere in their slow progress, crumbling their giant fronts upon one\nanother.\nIn the midst of the veritable \u201cbad lands\u201d of ice they came upon what\nthey were reasonably certain was the third main fissure, somewhere at\nthe bottom of which was the pit in which Corporal Thalman had been\nimprisoned. But the immensity of the task still ahead of them awed the\nboys. For, though they had reached the fissure, it was miles long and\nthey had no way of judging any nearer than five or ten miles just where\nthe prison pit was located.\n\u201cThere\u2019s nothing to do but look for a way of climbing down to the bottom\nof the fissure,\u201d Dick finally spoke. \u201cMistak must know a way to get down\nthere, and if we look long enough, we can find it.\u201d\n\u201cMaybe we ought to wait until the policemen get here,\u201d Sandy expressed\nhis doubts, while gazing down into the black chasm that was the main\nfissure.\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s best we keep on trying since we\u2019ve come this far without any\nfatal accidents. Corporal McCarthy can trail us wherever we go, so\nthere\u2019s no need waiting for him and the Constable.\u201d\nThe boys set out along the glacier looking for a place that offered\npossibilities of descent into the fissure. It was slow going over the\nheaps of shattered ice, and before they had gone a mile they were worn\nout. They halted to rest in a shallow pit which protected them from the\ncold wind. As they sat there, Dick noticed that a small fissure about\nthree feet wide and as high as a man\u2019s head opened out of a bulwark of\nice in front of them. The crack seemed to lead downward at a sharp\nslant.\n\u201cThat hole looks like it might lead down to the bottom of the fissure,\u201d\nDick said to Sandy and Toma. \u201cLet\u2019s go into it and investigate.\u201d\nAfter resting a few more minutes, they got up and walked into the\npassage. Advancing cautiously, they reached an underground chamber,\nabout twenty feet long, ten feet wide, and somewhat higher than their\nheads. The sunlight reached the chamber through its entrance and the dim\nrays lighted up a very beautiful scene. The walls and roof of the\nnatural cavity were formed of crystallized moisture, shaped in many\ngrotesque and fantastic figures.\n\u201cI believe this is part of the crystal grottoes Corporal Thalman\nmentioned in his message!\u201d Dick exclaimed examining the glittering\nwalls.\n\u201cMaybe we just found the outlet that the Corporal failed to find,\u201d Sandy\nbrightened.\nBut upon investigating further they were disappointed. The first chamber\nled into a second and smaller chamber which had no outlet, and seemed\nthe end of the cavern.\nAfter sounding the walls to make certain they could not break into a\nlarger cavity, the boys made their way back to the narrow passage\nleading up to the outer air.\nDick went first, and as he stopped into the sunlight a premonition of\ndanger seized him. But before he could act to defend himself, a shadow\nwas flung across his path and a heavy weight descended upon his head and\nshoulders. Dick went to the ice, stunned and half-blinded.\nDick was stunned only a moment, but when his head cleared he found\nhimself pinioned by a powerful man, who had just lashed his hands behind\nhim with thongs. Nearby, Sandy and Toma struggled in the clutches of\nfour men. At a little distance away stood Mistak, the half-breed Eskimo,\nleering with malevolent triumph upon his captives.\nWhen the boys were completely subdued and their arms tied behind them,\nMistak came forward and searched them. He found nothing in Sandy\u2019s and\nToma\u2019s clothing which seemed to interest him, but Dick\u2019s shirt pocket\ndisclosed the map, and filling the air with French and Eskimo curses,\nthe outlaw saw the handiwork of the imprisoned policeman.\n\u201cSo you sink to save him!\u201d Mistak glared at Dick. \u201cI get you in time,\nyes? Ha! By gar, you nevair meddle wiz Fred Mistak\u2019s business more.\u201d\nMistak\u2019s evil intentions were only too evident, and Dick was about to\ngive up hope, when Toma cocked his head to one side in a listening\nattitude. Dick knew the Indian youth had far keener hearing than the\naverage person, and felt his hopes once more rising. Whatever Toma\nheard, it was of some favorable significance, for he looked squarely at\nDick and solemnly winked one eye.\n\u201cHow you like find zee lost policeman?\u201d Mistak taunted, stepping\nsquarely in front of Dick. \u201cI take you zere\u2014what you say? Ver\u2019 fine,\neh?\u201d\n\u201cI have nothing to say to that,\u201d Dick replied as sternly as possible,\n\u201cbut I do know we have friends near and that you will suffer for any\nharm that comes to us.\u201d\n\u201cHa! Ha!\u201d Mistak laughed coarsely, turning to his companion. \u201cHear what\nzee puppy say? They have frien\u2019 in Mistak\u2019 country. Not ver\u2019 near, eh?\nHa! Ha!\u201d\nIt was at the instant of Mistak\u2019s triumph that a rifle shot rang out and\none of Mistak\u2019s men threw up his hands and fell silently to the ice. The\nhalf-breed Eskimo staggered back, his face paling, and his mouth twisted\nin a hideous smile.\nAgain the hidden rifle cracked, accompanied by another, whereupon\nMistak\u2019s men ducked and ran under the deadly bullets raining about them,\nleaving the boys where they had been captured.\n\u201cTo zee pit!\u201d the boys heard Mistak shriek to his men. \u201cKill zee\npoliceman before zey come!\u201d\nMistak and his men disappeared, and almost upon their heels leaped the\ntwo fur-clad forms of Corporal McCarthy and Constable Sloan.\nIn a trice they had slashed the bonds of the boys and had set them free.\n\u201cAfter Mistak all of you!\u201d cried Corporal McCarthy, plunging on across\nthe ice after the fleeing outlaws.\nDick kept pace with the Corporal and shouted into his ear: \u201cMistak is\ngoing to kill Corporal Thalman. He\u2019s making for the pit now. You were\njust in time!\u201d\n\u201cWe came as fast as we could get here as soon as we got back to camp and\nfound the map and instructions,\u201d panted the policeman. \u201cGood work you\nfellows have done!\u201d\nJust then the fleeing outlaws vanished into the yawning mouth of a\ncavern that led downward at a steep angle. Slipping and sliding most of\nthe way, the policemen and the boys tumbled after them.\n\u201cHalt! Halt!\u201d bellowed Corporal McCarthy when they had reached a more\nlevel incline. But Mistak\u2019s men did not heed. Instead, the report of a\nrifle sounded like a thunder clap in the underground chamber and a\nbullet richochetted with a rattling noise along the walls of the cave.\n\u201cThey\u2019re shooting back at us!\u201d cried Sandy.\nIn spite of the danger the policemen led the way on at a reckless run.\nDown, down, they went through the dimly lighted corridors of a\nsubterranean vault. When it seemed to them they had gone down for nearly\nfive hundred feet, the cavern swiftly became level and lighter.\n\u201cWe\u2019re going to run into the bottom of the fissure now!\u201d panted Dick\nhoarsely.\nDick was right. The light grew stronger swiftly and a moment later they\nsaw Mistak and his three men silhouetted in an opening as they ran out\nof the cavern.\nPresently they burst out upon the frozen floor of a narrow canyon-like\npassage that was apparently the bottom of the fissure. Far above the sky\nshowed like a tiny, pale ribbon. They could hear the sound of the\nrunning outlaws\u2019 boots on the hard surface of the bottom of the fissure\nand followed them to the right. The passage was crooked and they could\nsee nothing ahead of them further than ten yards, but at length they\ncame upon the scene of Mistak\u2019s contemplated perfidy.\nTwo half-breeds were at work over a hole some ten feet in diameter. With\ntheir spears they were straining frantically to pry loose a huge lump of\nice and send it hurtling into the hole.\n\u201cThey are going to crush the Corporal with that cake of ice!\u201d cried\nDick. \u201cWe\u2019ve reached the pit!\u201d\nThe rifles of the policemen came swiftly to their shoulders, and the\ngreat fissure reverberated with two shots. One of the half-breeds\nstaggered and sank upon his side, lying still. The other grasped his\nshoulder with one hand, as if he had been wounded, turned and ran around\na bend in the walls of the fissure.\n\u201cDon\u2019t follow them!\u201d was Corporal McCarthy\u2019s command. \u201cLet \u2019em go this\ntime. We must get Thalman out.\u201d\nSoon they were crowded about the dark round opening of the prison pit,\nand were shouting down into the darkness. In the silence that followed\ntheir shouts down into the hole, they could hear their own hearts\nbeating. Was Corporal Thalman alive?\nAt last, as from another world, there was wafted up out of the dark\nhole, a faint voice:\n\u201cHere\u2014I\u2014am\u2014friends. Pretty\u2014weak\u2014but\u2014still\u2014kicking.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s Thalman!\u201d whispered Constable Sloan hoarsely. \u201cI can hardly\nbelieve it.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ve got to get a rope!\u201d Corporal McCarthy bellowed down to the\nprisoner. \u201cHold on, and we\u2019ll soon get you out.\u201d\nA wild laugh echoed up from the depths in answer, as if the prisoner was\nabout to lose his mind.\nConstable Sloan was already on the run for the rope. He came back in\nabout twenty minutes, having lost no time in finding his way up the\ncavern to the surface of the glacier where the sledges were.\nHastily they began lowering the long coil down into the hole. After\nnearly fifty feet had been payed out, Corporal Thalman jerked on the\nrope to signal he had it in his hands, then they all waited tensely\nwhile he tied it securely under his shoulders. At last came the call\nfrom the pit that all was ready. All hands grasped the rope then, and\nbegan to heave it upward, hand over hand.\nIt was a strange caricature of a man that at last appeared dangling in\nthe loop. He was pale as a ghost from his long sojourn underground, and\na long beard covered the lower part of his face and chest. So thin was\nhe that his bones seemed on the point of bursting through his skin. The\nprisoner\u2019s clothing was in tatters and immediately upon striking the\nupper air he began to shiver from the cold.\n\u201cWe must get him to the sledges quick!\u201d ordered Corporal McCarthy.\n\u201cThere\u2019s blankets up there, and we\u2019ll make some hot tea for him. Just\nour luck to have him pass in his checks just after we\u2019ve saved him.\u201d\nIt was a hard struggle to climb out of the cavern with the almost\nhelpless man, but they finally accomplished the task.\nOnce Corporal Thalman had been wrapped in blankets and furs and treated\nto a few cups of piping hot tea, he showed signs of returning strength.\nHowever, the policemen were in favor of returning with him immediately\nto the base of supplies where everything necessary for his complete\nrecovery could be obtained.\n\u201cI guess you boys are elected for the job of hauling Corporal Thalman to\nthe main camp,\u201d Corporal McCarthy told them. \u201cSloan and I will stay here\nfor another try at trapping that sly fox, Mistak.\u201d\n\u201cBut with only one sledge, and that loaded with Corporal Thalman, we\ncan\u2019t haul in the cache of meat on the back trail,\u201d Dick explained.\n\u201cThat\u2019s alright,\u201d retorted the policeman. \u201cCome back after it when you\nhave Thalman safe in a warm igloo with plenty of hot tea and food\nnearby.\u201d\nIt was with much regret that the boys bade good-bye to the policemen\nonce more and started out on the back trail, Corporal Thalman snugly\ntucked in on the sledge.\nTwo days later, having traveled slow, for the comfort of their\npassenger, the boys reached the base of supplies. Sipsa and the other\nnatives seemed overjoyed to see their young white friends again, and\nthey held a feast in honor of the occasion, since hunting had been so\ngood and they had more meat than they needed for the winter.\nThe day after the home-coming, Sandy was left to care for Corporal\nThalman, while Dick and Toma returned to haul in the cache of musk-ox\nmeat. They found the meat unmolested, and in fine condition, however,\nthe signs in the snow about the cache showed that numerous foxes had\nmade a vain effort to scratch away the stones and get at the meat.\nA high wind was blowing upon their backs when Dick and Toma pulled in at\nthe supply base with their precious load of meat. Two hours later the\nwind had risen to cyclonic velocity, sweeping tons and tons of snow\nthrough the air until the sun was blotted out and the igloos trembled to\ntheir strong foundations.\nThe storm was warning of winter and Dick and Sandy were much concerned\nover the safety of the policemen. Under warm shelter the men might\nweather the blizzard for days, provided they did not run out of food and\nfuel oil. If they did\u2014 Dick and Sandy shuddered to think of what such\nprivations would mean for Corporal McCarthy and the Constable.\nThree days the wind howled and shrieked and tore at the tiny knot of\nigloos under the high ridge, while the tormented sea roared and pounded\non the beach, heaving great projectiles of ice far up on the land with\ndeafening crashes.\nThe third day the wind laid, and several hours afterward, two half\nfrozen men staggered into the camp. Dick had just looked out of an igloo\nupon the new world of white, when he saw the two figures.\n\u201cSandy! A rifle quick!\u201d cried Dick. \u201cIt\u2019s two of Mistak\u2019s men.\u201d\nBut no weapon was needed. The men were about dead on their feet and were\nunarmed.\nThe foremost man gave a hoarse shout upon seeing Dick and flung up an\narm to cover his eyes as if he had seen a ghost.\n\u201cIt\u2019s Moonshine Sam!\u201d Dick exclaimed to Sandy, who had joined him at the\nigloo door.\nMoonshine Sam it was who staggered up to the boys and threw himself upon\nhis face in the snow, his companion dropping to his side.\n\u201cI\u2019m givin\u2019 up,\u201d moaned Moonshine Sam to the boys as they bent over him.\n\u201cI\u2019d rather let the law do its worst than stay in this hell-hole any\nlonger.\u201d\nDick and Sandy dragged the two outlaws into their igloo, one by one,\nputting on some tea for them. They could not bear to see even those\nhardened criminals suffer.\nInside, they found both the half-breed\u2019s hands frozen as hard as stones.\nMoonshine Sam\u2019s left foot was frozen just as bad, and both men\u2019s faces\nwere black. The hot tea and warmth of the igloo made the men delirious,\nand Moonshine Sam especially, babbled ceaselessly.\n\u201cIt\u2019ll git ye! It\u2019ll git ye!\u201d he repeated many times, writhing with\npain.\n\u201cWhat?\u201d Dick asked the outlaw solemnly.\n\u201cHar! Har!\u201d the man laughed madly. \u201cOut there, fool!\u201d he cried. \u201cThe\nwhite things! Mistak an\u2019 the north!\u201d\nBoth Dick and Sandy did their best to quiet the raving outlaw, but to no\navail. One moment he was cursing everything alive, and swearing to kill\nall the mounted police in Canada; the next moment he became as fearful\nas a child.\n\u201cYe\u2019ll save me from him,\u201d he clutched at Dick with clawing fingers. \u201cYe\nwon\u2019t let the \u2018white Eskimo\u2019 git me,\u201d he mumbled.\nBy fragments the story of Moonshine Sam\u2019s experience in the blizzard\ncame out. There had been a division in the band, Mistak and Moonshine\nSam quarreling and going their separate ways. Only one half-breed had\nhad the courage to mutiny against Fred Mistak, and follow the white man.\nThe two had been caught out in the storm with no food, dogs, or sleeping\nbags. Only by chance had they reached the igloos of the policemen\u2019s\nencampment.\nIt was hours before Moonshine Sam finally fell into a troubled sleep,\nand the boys could seek rest themselves.\nWhen they awakened, Toma was bending over them.\n\u201cPolice come back. They in igloo. Want you come to them,\u201d said the young\nIndian.\nOutside, on the way to the policemen\u2019s igloo, the boys found dusk upon\nthe desolate land. Only a rim of the sun shed its fiery radiance upon an\noverhang of dull, gray clouds. Winter was overtaking them.\nThe boys found two gaunt and grim men when they crawled into the snow\nhouse of the two officers. Constable Sloan had been wounded in an ambush\nperpetrated by Mistak, shortly after the boys had started back to camp\nwith Thalman. Mistak had bested them for the present, Corporal McCarthy\nwas forced to admit, but the question was, should they give up and go\nsouth before winter, leaving Mistak free in his fastnesses.\n\u201cThat\u2019s up to you, Corporal McCarthy,\u201d Dick and Sandy replied as one.\n\u201cYou\u2019re the commander of this expedition.\u201d\n\u201cWell, then, I\u2019m for staying here,\u201d went on the officer. \u201cI\u2019ll get\nMistak if I die in the attempt, and I mean what I say. Sloan swears\nhe\u2019ll stick by me, but that\u2019s no reason why the rest of you should. If\nyou start tomorrow you can go by sledge to the nearest seaport and book\npassage back to Canada before you get caught in the long night, and\ntravel is made unsafe. What do you say?\u201d\n\u201cWe won\u2019t quit,\u201d Dick returned, pale but determined. \u201cSandy and I want\nto see this to a finish and Corporal Thalman swore only yesterday that\nhe\u2019d never let us take him back until Mistak went with him, or was left\nbehind for the foxes.\u201d\n\u201cShake,\u201d Corporal McCarthy extended a hard hand, and Dick and Sandy\ngrasped it in turn.\n\u201cFor a couple of kids you\u2019re the nerviest he-men I ever met with,\u201d Sloan\nspoke up, a courageous grin on his pain drawn face.\n\u201cI\u2019ll second that,\u201d hastened Corporal McCarthy.\nWhen Dick and Sandy left the igloo, they walked very straight, and they\nwere silent. The dreaded long night of the northland was close at hand\nand they must stand up under hardships more terrible than they had\neither ever endured, for, had Constable Sloan not called them \u201cthe\nnerviest he-men I ever met with?\u201d\nThe last of the sun was seen October 18th. Corporal McCarthy had been\nforced to take charge of the camp until Constable Sloan recovered from\nhis wounds, and so the long-thwarted capture of Mistak, the white\nEskimo, was due for another long delay under the pitchy blackness of the\nArctic night.\nMoonshine Sam recovered, and was kept constantly under guard, though he\nrepeated again and again his promises to keep the peace if he were put\non parole. The half-breed, who had staggered into camp with the white\noutlaw, died from exposure, and was buried, under a cairn of stones a\nfew miles from camp.\nCorporal Thalman\u2019s iron constitution soon rebuilt itself, now that he\nwas among friends, and had almost all he could eat. And so the little\ngarrison was stronger by one more man.\nUnder the smothering darkness that now had descended upon the land, time\npassed as if the hours were days, the weeks months, and a month a year.\nThe men and boys contrived games of all kinds to play indoors, yet they\nhad to economize on their fuel oil, and whenever they could, they slept\naway the hours.\nIt was with great joy that they greeted the coming of the moon that\nfirst month of uninterrupted darkness. Fortunately fair weather came\nalong with the bright disc in the Heavens, and everyone sallied forth to\nhunt and play in the open air.\nThe policemen went some distance inland during the period, but due to\nthe liability of the weather to change for the worst at any hour, they\ndared not go on any protracted search for Mistak. They did, however,\nbring in three musk-oxen and a polar bear.\nDick, Sandy, and Toma all became proficient, during the moonlight\nperiod, in a game of throw and catch which the Eskimos played. It was\ngreat fun and required no little skill. A long stick, perforated with\nsmall holes was employed, together with a walrus tusk, sharpened to a\npoint. The stick was thrown into the air and caught in one of the holes\nupon the ivory point.\nThere were also foot races and snowshoe races in which the mounted\npolice joined, along with the Eskimos and the boys. Weight lifting,\nwrestling, and other tests of strength were also favorite pastimes of\nthe Eskimos and were invaluable in counteracting the depressing effects\nof the moonlight and the eternal darkness.\nConstable Sloan told them that the moon would remain in the sky from\neight to ten days. A storm fell upon them, however, after seven days and\nnights of moonlight, and they were all forced to hibernate in their\nigloos to escape the bitter cold and heavy darkness.\nDuring the second period of utter darkness, the thermometers all froze\nand burst, except those especially designed for use in the Arctic. Sandy\nfell sick with a bad cold that threatened to develop into pneumonia, and\nlay abed two weeks before Dick\u2019s continuous nursing brought his chum\nthrough safely.\nBundled in furs hour after hour, in their sleeping bags and out, all\nsuffered immeasurably from the close and stifling air of the igloos. The\nEskimos rubbed themselves with oil in order to soften their skins and\nfile their pores, but it was some time before the boys could bring\nthemselves to apply the messy stuff in place of their old friend soap\nand water. But as soon as they did, they felt much better. For their\nclothing no longer chaffed them and the bite of the low temperature was\nconsiderably lessened.\nMoonshine Sam became a greater trial with the passing of every hour. He\nlapsed into strange spells that seemed to be brought on by the\noppressive darkness and the terrible hardships he had weathered while\nwith Mistak.\n\u201cI\u2019ll git him, er he\u2019ll git me,\u201d he would mumble, starting up out of a\nstupid trance. Then he would clench and unclench his red hands, and\ngnash his yellow teeth in a frightful rage.\nHe finally grew so violent that the policemen no longer would permit the\nboys to take their turns watching him, doing it all among the three of\nthem.\nI\u2019d hate to see him and Mistak come to blows, Corporal Thalman\nshuddered, after coming off of a two-hour watch in Moonshine Sam\u2019s\nigloo. \u201cOne or both of them would pass in his checks before the fight\nwas over. I guess the white Eskimo is pretty hard on the men that desert\nhim.\u201d\nThe second period of moonlight came at an inopportune time. A dense film\nof clouds obscured it for four days and the ghostly white snow fields\nwere almost as dark as when there was no moon. But it finally cleared\noff, only to reveal more trouble. The dogs were dying from attacks of\nmadness. Dick and Sandy counted twenty-two dead in the snow, some their\nown, some belonging to the Eskimos.\nAfter several hours of observation they discovered a dog in the throes\nof the polar sickness. The animal began to whine, then suddenly snarled,\nand frothed at the mouth. After biting himself several times, he ran\nmadly in and out among the igloos, finally circling far out over the\nsnow. When the diseased dog finally rushed panting and red-eyed back to\ncamp, all the other dogs had hidden from him. Dick shot the dog then to\nprevent its suffering any longer. That was the last case of the madness\namong the dogs during that phase of the moon.\n\u201cIt\u2019s what the Eskimos call Piblockto,\u201d Constable Sloan explained. \u201cThe\nEskimos get it themselves sometimes, especially the women, though it\u2019s\nnot so fatal among human beings as among dogs. So if you fellows hear\nsome unearthly screeching you\u2019ll know what it is. Don\u2019t bother anyone\nwho gets it The natives leave them alone unless they start running away\nwhere they\u2019re apt to freeze to death. The fits only last about half an\nhour.\u201d\nThe boys did not have to wait long before they saw an actual case of\nwhat Constable Sloan had described.\nIt happened to an Eskimo woman whose month old infant had died of\nexposure, which was a rare occurrence. Grief stricken, the poor woman\nwas wandering around among the igloos in the moonlight, wailing softly\nto herself, when the boys chanced to pass her on their way to the\npolicemen\u2019s igloo.\nTheir hair raised under their parkas as suddenly the woman let out a\nmost blood-curdling scream, leaped into the air several times, and\nfinally commenced to tear her clothes off, piece by piece. Dick and\nSandy ran behind an igloo and watched from hiding. Several Eskimos\nappeared from various igloos, and the boys could hear them babbling\nabout piblockto and the angekok. They gathered that the Eskimos believed\nthe woman was temporarily possessed by one of the bad spirits that\nhaunted the northland.\nThe Eskimos did not attempt to do anything for the poor woman until she\nhad torn away so much of her warm clothing that she stood in danger of\nfreezing to death. Then three men came out and dragged her, shrieking\ninto an igloo. Presently her screams died away and all was quiet.\nDick and Sandy hurried on their way, their flesh still creeping from the\nscene they had witnessed. But before the moon had once more dropped down\nunder the horizon, they saw several of these attacks of piblockto and\nbecame somewhat accustomed to them.\nIt was in January, during the dark of the moon, that some mysterious\nenemy began his depredations. First, two dogs were stumbled upon in the\ndark, their heads crushed in by an axe, and part of their haunches cut\naway. Next, an Eskimo youth, out to bring in some snow for melting,\ncrawled back to his igloo, hours later, wounded by a spear. Several\nother Eskimos were pursued by some animal the nature of which they could\nnot detect in the pitchy blackness. Sandy swore that once, when he was\nabout to venture out of the igloo to see how the weather was, that he\nhad touched a cold face with one hand, and that a darker blot in the\ndarkness had melted out of sight, without making any sound in the snow.\nFinally, no one but the policemen dared to venture often into the dark,\nand they only with a weapon handy.\n\u201cI\u2019ve got my own ideas as to what this ghost is,\u201d Dick told Sandy. \u201cThe\npolicemen think the same as I do, too. It\u2019s as simple as anything.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is it, then?\u201d Sandy wanted to know, as he cut a new wick for a\nseal oil lamp.\n\u201cWhy, Mistak, of course.\u201d\n\u201cThen, how is it that he can see in the dark?\u201d\n\u201cHe can\u2019t, any more than we can,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cHe just prowls around,\nand when he runs into someone he takes the chance to put a scare into\nall of us.\u201d\n\u201cSounds reasonable,\u201d admitted Sandy. \u201cBut, gee, I don\u2019t like the idea of\nhim hanging around. Suppose he should take a notion to attack us. We\u2019d\nbe just about helpless in these igloos.\u201d\nDick realized Sandy was right and he spoke to Corporal McCarthy about it\nas soon as he came in off a watch at Moonshine Sam\u2019s igloo.\n\u201cI don\u2019t think Mistak has the nerve to attack us,\u201d Corporal McCarthy\nreplied. \u201cThe fellow is sly as a fox, but he\u2019s afraid of the police,\ndon\u2019t you believe he isn\u2019t?\u201d\nThe following interminable night seemed to prove Corporal McCarthy right\nin his opinion that Mistak lacked the daring to perpetrate an open\nattack. Yet that did not prevent the outlaw from continuing his strike\nand run tactics. No one could feel safe with these skulking enemies\nwaiting in the pitchy blackness of the Arctic night to kill, maim or\nsteal.\nThen, thirty-six hours before they anticipated the return of the moon,\nSandy disappeared. He had gone to Moonshine Sam\u2019s igloo with meat for\nConstable Sloan then on watch, and had neither returned to his igloo nor\nreported to his destination. A blundering search of the vicinity in the\ndarkness proved futile, and he could not be located in any of the Eskimo\nigloos.\nAlive to the danger which would threaten Sandy if he were lost in the\nvast land of darkness, Dick appealed to Corporal McCarthy.\n\u201cI know how you feel, and I wish we could do something, but it\u2019s useless\nto hunt blindly for him,\u201d the Corporal replied regretfully. \u201cWe must\nhope he turns up by himself or that some of the Eskimos happen to run\nonto him.\u201d\n\u201cDo you suppose Mistak or some of the other outlaws might have attacked\nhim?\u201d Dick asked falteringly.\n\u201cI\u2019d be lying if I said that wasn\u2019t possible. I don\u2019t like to think the\nworst any more than you do. Anyhow, we know Sandy McClaren is pretty\nwell able to take care of himself. There\u2019s no danger of him laying down\nand dying while he\u2019s an ounce of strength left to find his way back to\nus.\u201d\nDick was forced to accept this as his only comfort for the present. But\nas the hours passed and Sandy did not show up, the suspense became\nunbearable. A host of questions thronged and tormented his worried mind.\nCould Sandy, if lost, hold out until the moon came up to light the way\nfor him and a searching party? Had Mistak captured him and imprisoned\nhim? Or had the outlaws brutally murdered him?\nBut one thing Dick was thankful for\u2014the weather remained fair, with no\nwind, and a temperature as high as fifteen degrees below zero, warm for\nthe Arctic winter.\nAs the time drew near for the reappearance of the moon, Dick did not\nsleep at all, but paced up and down on the packed snow in front of his\nigloo. He was there when the first pale, cold, faint light stole over\nthe snow, and with a cry of gladness, he turned to the bleak horizon,\nwhere the edge of a yellow disc had just appeared as the moon rose.\nCorporal McCarthy was quickly at Dick\u2019s side. \u201cWe can start a search\nright away now,\u201d said the officer sympathetically. \u201cI\u2019ll have two\nparties of Eskimos start on in different directions, one led by Sipsa,\nand one by Constable Sloan. Corporal Thalman can take charge of\nMoonshine Sam while we\u2019re gone.\u201d\nThe searching parties were hastily organized, and started off. Corporal\nMcCarthy, Dick and Toma formed a third party. They started out at the\nbeaten path between Dick\u2019s igloo and Moonshine Sam\u2019s. It was from there\nthey were quite certain Sandy had vanished. But the vicinity of the path\nand the village of igloos was so criss-crossed with tracks that they\ncould make no headway. So, striking out blindly, they headed southward,\nwhile the other divisions of the searchers took the remaining three\ndirections.\nOutside the vicinity of the encampment where the snow was unbroken, they\nbegan walking back and forth, examining every foot of snow for signs of\nSandy\u2019s feet.\nBut the snow was covered by a crust several inches thick, and an\nordinary weight made no impression. Despairingly, they kept on, until at\nlast Dick spied something glittering in the rays of the moon. Quickly he\nran to the object and picked it up. Renewed hope was expressed in his\nloud summons of Toma and Corporal McCarthy.\nWhat Dick held in his hand when his two companions arrived, was a\nhunting knife, in the bone handle of which had been carved two tell-tale\ninitials\u2014\u201cS.M.\u201d!\nEagerly, the policeman and Toma examined the knife that Dick had found,\nwhich had, without a doubt, once reposed in Sandy McClaren\u2019s sheath.\nYet, after the first flush of excitement had worn off, they all realized\nthat the clue was a very inadequate one. In itself it could not lead to\nSandy. Only it served as an added incentive for them to search more\ndiligently for some more definite trace of the lost boy.\nAs they circled slowly, getting farther and farther from camp, the snow\ncontinued to present a hard crust which had registered no record of the\nfeet that had passed over it under the impenetrable shroud of the polar\ndarkness.\nBut their patience was rewarded when Toma found a bit of bearskin with\nthe long hair adhering to it. Upon examining the fur closely, they saw\nthat it had been slashed from a larger piece of fur with a knife.\n\u201cIt might have been cut from Sandy\u2019s trousers,\u201d ventured Dick.\n\u201cThat\u2019s possible,\u201d rejoined Corporal McCarthy, \u201cbut we just found what\nseemed to be Sandy\u2019s knife. What did he cut the fur with?\u201d\nNeither Dick nor Toma could answer that question, and at the time it did\nnot seem important enough to worry about. Close to a hundred feet from\nwhere they had spied the first bit of bearskin, they found another\nfragment of the same kind of fur. It, too, had been obviously cut with a\nknife.\n\u201cNow I know Sandy has cut off these bits of fur to mark the way he\nwent,\u201d Dick cried excitedly. \u201cLet\u2019s hurry on and see where the next one\nis.\u201d\nAfter progressing nearly a quarter mile across the crusted snow, they\nhad picked up nearly twenty bits of fur similar to the first one Toma\nhad found, and were certain something more tangible would soon turn up.\nThen the trail of fur fragments disappeared and was replaced by the\nimprint of several snowshoes, as they at last reached soft snow.\nAll three bent to examine the tracks. There were three pair of snow-shoe\ntracks and one pair of small boot tracks.\n\u201cThe boot tracks are Sandy\u2019s, I\u2019m pretty sure,\u201d was Corporal McCarthy\u2019s\nconfident statement. \u201cThe snow-shoe tracks must have been made by those\nwho captured him, unless someone picked up his trail after the moon came\nup.\u201d\nHastening onward, they followed an unbroken trail for nearly a half\nhour, when they again were discouraged upon reaching more crusted snow\nupon which the trail vanished. But not long were they at loss. Running\nahead a short distance, Dick stooped and picked up something which he\nwaved triumphantly to Toma and the Corporal. It was another bit of\nbearskin.\n\u201cSandy\u2019s started marking his trail again!\u201d Dick called.\n\u201cI\u2019m getting so I\u2019m not so sure just who has been leaving these\nmarkers,\u201d Corporal McCarthy said. \u201cThat knife we found back there makes\nme wonder if it\u2019s really Sandy who has dropped those pieces of fur.\u201d\n\u201cWhy, who could it be then?\u201d Dick asked incredulously.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll see, we\u2019ll see,\u201d was the policeman\u2019s enigmatic reply. \u201cBut in the\nmeantime you two fellows be ready to obey orders.\u201d\nWondering what the Corporal was hinting at, Dick started out to find\nmore of the trail markers. About every fifty or a hundred feet they\nfound them, so that there was no doubt as to the fact that they were\ngoing right.\nCorporal McCarthy cautioned them to keep their eyes open now, for they\nhad reached the end of the level snow and were among some large\nsnowdrifts formed by huge boulders that had lodged the snow. Directly\nover their heads loomed the long upward slant of the high moraine which\nhad so long served them as a landmark. However, they were in a part of\nthe country unfamiliar to them, and so did not know what to expect.\nAdded to this the moonlight deceived the eyes, and made it difficult for\nthem to tell a boulder from a living body.\n\u201cBe prepared for an ambush,\u201d the Corporal instructed Dick and Toma.\n\u201cMistak hasn\u2019t taken Sandy all this distance for nothing. He knew we\nwould follow.\u201d\nBut minute after minute passed and there was no sign of Mistak or his\nband, nor of Sandy, with the exception of the clear prints of the\nsnowshoes leading in and out and around the drifts and boulders. Like so\nmany ghosts the three trailers hurried on in the pale moonlight, their\nsnowshoes making scarcely no sound at all in the feathery drifts.\nSuddenly, there broke upon the icy air a mocking laugh. The three\nstopped dead in their tracks, mouths agape.\n\u201cWhat was that?\u201d whispered Dick.\n\u201cHim sounded like bad spirit,\u201d Toma\u2019s voice was subdued from sudden\nfright.\nCorporal McCarthy said nothing, but his hands tightened on his rifle\nwhile he searched every black shadow with probing eyes.\nShaken by the eerie sound, they prepared to go on again, when once more\nthe mad laugh pealed out, vindictive, vengeful and subtlely mocking.\n\u201cIt must be a mad man,\u201d quavered Dick.\n\u201cNonsense,\u201d grated the policeman. \u201cIt\u2019s some of that devilish Mistak\u2019s\nwork. Anyway the sound came from ahead of us. Unlimber your rifles,\nlads, we\u2019re going to see some action, I think. If I\u2019m lucky enough to\nget a bead on Mistak, I\u2019ll never get him to Canada alive, mark my word.\u201d\nCrouching, so as to make use of every bit of shelter, they now moved\nslowly forward, holding their breaths for a repetition of the cackle of\nlaughter. The very boulders themselves now seemed to be moved in the\ndeceptive moonlight under their imaginative eyes.\nAnd again they heard the laugh\u2014ahead of them yet. On and on they crept,\na dew of perspiration standing out on their foreheads, and freezing\nthere in tiny drops. But not a sign of any person or thing did they\nactually see. Only the frequent peals of wild laughter urged them\nfearfully on, like a will-o\u2019-the-wisp in some frozen swamp.\nThe boulder strewn snow presently gave way to treacherous gashes in the\nground made by the erosion of some age-old glacier. Clambering and\nsliding in and out of these precipitous gullies, they kept on after the\nelusive laughter.\nLong since they had given up following the snowshoe tracks. The laughter\nof a man\u2014even a mad man was much more tangible than footprints. But had\nit not been for the grim, fearless policeman, Dick and Toma would have\nturned back.\nAn end to their reckless advance came in a very unexpected manner.\nClambering out of a steep gully, they found themselves at the edge of a\ntrackless expanse of soft white snow, apparently as level as a floor and\njust as solid footing. The laughter had not been repeated for some time\nbefore they negotiated the last glacier gash, and they were beginning to\nwonder if their ghostly guide had deserted them.\nIt was Toma who saw it first\u2014the form of a human being sitting erect\nagainst a snow bank across the white level of snow.\n\u201cLook. Somebody there!\u201d Toma whispered.\n\u201cIt\u2014it must be a dead man,\u201d faltered Dick.\n\u201cNot on your life,\u201d gritted Corporal McCarthy. \u201cSee him move. That\nfellow\u2019s tied and that fellow is Sandy McClaren!\u201d\nDick\u2019s eyes suddenly testified as to the accuracy of the policeman\u2019s\nstatement. \u201cSandy!\u201d he almost shrieked, starting to run toward him.\nBut the iron hand of Corporal McCarthy dragged him back as if he had\nbeen merely a pillowful of feathers.\n\u201cLook out there!\u201d cried the Corporal. \u201cThis is a trap you can bet and\nwe\u2019ll go slow.\u201d\nSandy apparently was gagged, for though he had begun to wriggle, he made\nno sound with his mouth except an almost inaudible gurgle.\nCorporal McCarthy was pawing in the snow for something. Dick finally saw\nwhat he was after\u2014a stone. The policeman finally found one that was\nquite heavy. He raised this above his head and to Dick and Toma\u2019s\namazement, threw it out upon the snow between them and Sandy.\nThe boys expected the stone to bound and roll a little way, but to their\nhorror, as the stone struck it disappeared and, following it, more than\ntwenty square feet of snow caved downward with a rustling hiss and\ndisappeared into a fathomless black void.\nDick\u2019s gasp of dismay was followed by a piercing voice from the shadows\nof the boulders behind them. It was the voice that had done the\nlaughing, but this time it did not laugh but cried out in an expression\nof rage and disappointment.\nCorporal McCarthy\u2019s rifle was at his shoulder when the sound reached his\nears, but there was nothing to shoot at\u2014only the ghastly moonlight of\nthe polar night, and the inky shadows. The policeman raised his rifle\nand shook it.\n\u201cBeat you that time\u2014you half-breed devil!\u201d his big voice pealed out\nacross the desolate wastes. \u201cAnd I\u2019m praying you\u2019ll come down here and\nfight it out where I can get a bead on you.\u201d\nBut there was no answer, and a moment later the Corporal turned back to\nthe boys.\n\u201cClever trap,\u201d he explained in an undertone. \u201cBut I had my suspicions,\nand as soon as I saw Sandy out there in plain sight, I knew there was a\nnigger in the fence. That was a snow bridge we came pretty near busting\nthrough. Wind built it up across this gorge. Now we\u2019ve got to get at the\nboy.\u201d\nCalling across the chasm, they explained to Sandy that they must find\nsome other place to cross over to him. Hurriedly making their way to the\nleft along the treacherous brink, which for many yards was bridged by\nthe frail snow drift, they finally came to a narrow place and one by one\nleaped over with their snowshoes in their hands. It took them but a few\nmoments to strap on their snowshoes again and run to Sandy. In a trice\nthey had slashed his bonds and yanked the gag from his mouth.\nWith a joy they could not express, Dick and Sandy embraced, whereupon\nSandy\u2019s story came tumbling from his lips by fits and starts.\nBriefly, it was this: About half way to Moonshine Sam\u2019s igloo, following\nthe beaten path, he had heard stealthy footsteps coming toward him. In\nthe gloom he could see nothing, and so he had stopped, waiting for some\nsign that the person was a friend or an enemy. Then, without warning, a\nsmothering fur robe had been thrown over him and he was lifted up in\nstrong arms and carried away. At a distance from the igloos far enough\nso that his cries for help would not bring his friends, Sandy\u2019s captors\nhad put him on his feet, and taken off the robe. They then had taken his\nknife away from him and had thrown it away. Sandy had then been\ncompelled to accompany the men on foot. When his eyes had grown\naccustomed to the dimly starlit night, he had managed to recognize\nMistak among the three, and had found out that they were leaving bits of\nfur behind them to mark their trail. Sandy had not been able to fathom\ntheir purpose in leaving such a plain trail, nor had he been fully aware\nof the nature of the cunning trap laid by Mistak when the outlaw had\nleft him bound and gagged against a snowdrift, after a long roundabout\njourney among a network of deep gorges.\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know what it was all about till I saw you three stop out there\nin front of me, and throw that stone,\u201d Sandy concluded. \u201cI guess I made\na pretty good bait for that trap.\u201d\n\u201cI pretty near went right on after you, too,\u201d shivered Dick, recalling\ntheir narrow escape, \u201cbut Corporal McCarthy was wise enough to see\nthrough it.\u201d\n\u201cWell, let\u2019s be getting back to camp,\u201d the policeman interrupted them.\n\u201cWe\u2019re a lot farther from home than we ought to be. If a storm catches\nus before we get in there\u2019s no telling whether we\u2019ll ever get back.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m sure beginning to wish it really was home we were going back to,\u201d\ngroaned Sandy. \u201cIn two days I\u2019ve only had one chunk of walrus meat to\neat.\u201d\n\u201cBuck up, Sandy,\u201d Dick replied cheerfully, as they set out on the back\ntrail. \u201cWe\u2019ll be back at camp before you know it.\u201d\nBut Dick was wrong. Before they were on the trail an hour, a bank of\nclouds that had been hovering in the north, spread out fan-like across\nthe stars and presently the moon was blotted out as if some giant hand\nhad taken it from the sky.\nWith not even the stars to light their way, the four travelers stumbled\nblindly along, until Corporal McCarthy ordered them to halt.\n\u201cWe can\u2019t keep on like this,\u201d said the Corporal grimly. \u201cWe\u2019ll get so\nfar off the back trail that we\u2019ll never find our way back. The only\nthing we can do is build an igloo and wait for the moon to come out\nagain. Let\u2019s hope a storm don\u2019t come up.\u201d\nAfter blundering about in the darkness, which was so thick they could\ncut it with a knife, they finally located a drift which was solid enough\nand large enough for the cutting of snow blocks for an igloo. It was a\npoor snow house they erected largely by their sense of touch, but it\nserved the purpose. Hovering inside their makeshift shelter they waited\nsilently for the clouds to disperse, praying for fair weather to\ncontinue.\nYet the supreme power that governed the capricious whims of the mighty\nice cap seemed deaf to their supplications for a half hour after the\nigloo had been completed the temperature began to fall alarmingly. A\nwind sprang up out of the northeast, just a whisper at first, like the\nvast, mournful sigh of a melancholy spirit, then rapidly it grew louder,\nby gusts and fits, until a thirty mile an hour gale was sweeping the\nsnow wastes with the fury of a stampeded lion. The wind sought out every\nniche and cranny in the hastily erected igloo, and through the heavy\ngarments of the shivering refugees it cut like so many tiny knives.\nFutilely, they tried to stop up the holes where the wind seeped in while\nthe gale laughed and howled and whistled, as if in mad glee at the\ndiscomfiture it was causing the shivering mortals.\nIn the grip of the terrible cold, the four kept from falling into that\ndreadful drowsiness which signals death by freezing, by beating\nthemselves and each other with their numbed arms. The fur rims of their\nparkas became heavy with icicles formed by moisture from their mouth.\nTheir eyelashes froze together from the watering of their eyes. With\neach breath it seemed red hot irons had been thrust down their throats\nand liquid fire loosed in their lungs. For extreme cold has much the\nsame sensation of extreme heat.\nTwo hours they fought a losing fight, then the capricious gods of the\nnorth changed their minds and the wind began to lay. Almost\nimperceptibly at first, each gust a little weaker than the last, until\nfinally, they all crept out of the igloo to find a vast silence\npervading the ghostly land. Cold and pale, the Arctic moon now lighted\ntheir way, for the clouds had been herded southward by the passing polar\nwind.\nThe temperature had risen a little when all four set out on the return\ntrail, now almost blotted out save where the wind had struck it squarely\nand had blown the loose snow away around the packed snowshoe tracks.\nIn his weakened condition Sandy had almost succumbed to the cold, and\npart of the way they had to carry the gritty young Scotchman.\nThus they stumbled into the village of igloos hours later, lungs burning\nfrom the frost, bodies numb and prickling in a dozen places.\nNo more had they arrived than they found their troubles were not over.\nCorporal Thalman met them with disturbing news, as soon as they had\nstumbled into an igloo and lighted an oil heater.\nMoonshine Sam had escaped during the storm!\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t stay awake,\u201d Corporal Thalman said bitterly, in explanation\nof Moonshine Sam\u2019s escape. \u201cI was the only one to stand the watches,\nbecause I couldn\u2019t trust any of the Eskimos to stick to their post. It\u2019s\na wonder he didn\u2019t kill me while I was helpless.\u201d\n\u201cBut I thought he wanted to stay with us for protection from the\nvengeance of Mistak,\u201d Corporal McCarthy said impatiently. \u201cHow was he\nacting up to the time you fell asleep?\u201d\n\u201cHe seemed to change his mind,\u201d replied the other officer. \u201cI recall him\nmumbling about the gallows, and about knowing he\u2019d be hung if he was\ntaken back by the police. I think he intends either to try to rejoin\nMistak, or make his way south alone.\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d Corporal McCarthy\u2019s voice was expressive of an inward,\nsuppressed rage, \u201cwe\u2019ll have to bring him back! If we don\u2019t Mistak will\nkill him.\u201d\nQuickly, the Corporal gave his instructions. He and Corporal Thalman\nwere to set out after Moonshine Sam as soon as they had eaten. Dick,\nSandy and Toma were to remain in camp, and as soon as Constable Sloan\nand Sipsa came in with the searching parties, the boys were to report to\nthem the escape of the outlaw and pass on orders for their aid in\nretaking the prisoner.\nA half hour later, the two Corporals departed from the village of igloos\nwith a day\u2019s provisions, and a camp stove, packed on their backs. Not\nlong after they had gone the searching parties straggled in, discouraged\nand half frozen from the blizzard which they, too, had been caught in.\nAlone among the Eskimos, the three boys treated their frost bites with\nsnow and alcohol rubs, fed themselves on musk-ox steaks, and when again\nfairly comfortable, became impatient at inaction. It was far worse to\nsit in idleness than to get out and do something.\n\u201cLet\u2019s go hunting,\u201d suggested Dick.\n\u201cThat\u2019s better than sitting here in this igloo waiting for something to\nhappen,\u201d Sandy rejoined. \u201cI believe I\u2019d go crazy in this awful silence\nif I had to sit around and wiggle my thumbs.\u201d\nToma seemed willing enough to stay behind and take care of things in the\nabsence of the boys, and so Dick and Sandy started out without him,\ncarrying only their rifles and hunting knives, for they dared not go far\naway from camp. They knew that, while they had weathered one brief\nblizzard, they could not expect to be so fortunate next time.\nLooking for musk-oxen, the boys climbed the high moraine east of the\nbase camp and followed the top of the ridge southward until they reached\nan arm of the glacier on the other side.\nThey had gone upward of two miles when they came suddenly upon the print\nof a sealskin Arctic boot in the snow. The boys stopped and studied the\ntrack.\n\u201cThis can\u2019t be made by any of the policemen, or Sipsa either,\u201d said Dick\nwith bated breath. \u201cThey all had snowshoes.\u201d\n\u201cAnd it can\u2019t be Mistak either,\u201d Sandy observed. \u201cHe\u2019d be traveling on\nsnowshoes too.\u201d\nThe boys looked at each other significantly.\n\u201cThen it\u2019s just about got to be Moonshine Sam,\u201d Dick spoke slowly.\nAgain they bent over the boot track.\n\u201cYou can see it was made before or during the blizzard,\u201d Dick said.\n\u201cIt\u2019s partly drifted full of snow. Let\u2019s look for other tracks.\u201d\nSeveral feet away from the first, on the other side of a long, low,\nsnowdrift they found the next track. It was raised up out of the snow,\nthe wind having sucked away the loose flakes all around it. Another and\nanother they found, as the trail grew hotter, but the tracks seemed to\nhave been made by a person wandering aimlessly here and there.\n\u201cI\u2019m certain it\u2019s Moonshine Sam now,\u201d Dick breathed. \u201cHis tracks show\nhow crazily he was going, blinded by the storm.\u201d\nHastening on, the boys presently came to fresher footprints, made,\nobviously, after the wind had laid. The tracks were now sunken in deep\nsnow, revealing how, from lack of snowshoes, the man had floundered\nalong.\nThey had followed the fresher tracks for about half a mile, when to\ntheir surprise another trail, made by snowshoes, joined and followed the\nfirst.\n\u201cI wonder who that could be,\u201d Sandy spoke.\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s only one man, so it can\u2019t be the policemen, unless they\u2019ve\ndivided up. I hardly think they\u2019d do that.\u201d\n\u201cMaybe it\u2019s Mistak or some of his men,\u201d was Sandy\u2019s conjecture. \u201cDon\u2019t\nyou think we\u2019d better go back?\u201d\n\u201cNot on your life we\u2019re not going back!\u201d Dick said determinedly. \u201cWe\u2019ve\nbeen lucky enough to strike a hot trail, and believe me, we\u2019re going to\nstick to it. But I do wish we could get in touch with the policemen.\nLook around, Sandy, and see if you can\u2019t see someone.\u201d\nBut a careful scanning of the bleak snowfields failed to disclose any\nsign of life.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to keep on alone I guess,\u201d Dick said finally.\nOnce more they started out on the double trail, their senses on the\nalert for a sight or sound of those they followed.\nFresher and fresher became the trail, for the man on snowshoes was\nrapidly overtaking whoever he pursued, provided that was what he had\nbeen doing, and according to signs the man in boots had increased his\npace to a floundering run as if he wanted to get away from someone.\nThe boys came to the brow of a long incline, slanting to a level tundra,\nand down the slope saw two men, surprisingly close.\n\u201cSit down, Sandy,\u201d Dick whispered. \u201cDon\u2019t let either of them see us.\u201d\nDropping down in the snow, the boys watched an interesting chase. The\nman on snowshoes was rapidly overtaking another who plunged along\nhampered by sinking at every step.\nSandy clutched Dick by the arm and said hoarsely, fearfully: \u201cThat man\nin front is Moonshine Sam\u2014sure enough.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you can bet the fellow on snowshoes is Mistak,\u201d came back Dick\nconfidently.\n\u201cThey\u2019re going to fight!\u201d exclaimed Sandy. \u201cWhat if someone\u2019s killed?\u201d\n\u201cWe can\u2019t help it, Sandy. It\u2019s their fight. We\u2019re risking our lives if\nwe try to stop it, without killing one of them ourselves, and you know\nwe couldn\u2019t kill in cold blood. Oh, if the policemen were only here!\u201d\nTensely the boys watched the two draw nearer together. When a hundred\nyards separated them, Moonshine Sam turned, shook his fists over his\nhead, and let out a loud yell. Then he started back. The man was going\nto fight now that he was in a corner.\nMistak carried only a spear as a long distance weapon. The boys divined\nthat he and his band had long since run out of ammunition for the few\nfirearms they possessed.\nDick and Sandy held their breath as they saw the white Eskimo draw back\nhis arm and pose for a throw. An instant Mistak bent backward, still as\na statue, then his body and arm snapped forward simultaneously, like a\ncatapult. The spear shot forward in a low arc toward Moonshine Sam, half\nas swift as an arrow.\nMoonshine Sam fell flat in the snow none too soon, and the whizzing\nweapon buried itself in the snow a few feet beyond him. Like a flash\nMoonshine Sam leaped to his feet, wheeled and ran for the spear, pawing\nfrantically in the snow, he at last found the buried spear.\nMistak was making for the other outlaw at a spraddling run, as Moonshine\nSam aimed the spear to throw it back. But he had a running target that\nwas purposely bobbing up and down and zig-zagging.\nThen the spear flashed through the moonlight, a streak of potent death,\nbut the white outlaw was not an expert spear thrower. The weapon missed\nMistak by several feet.\n\u201cThey\u2019re going to close in,\u201d Dick whispered, burying his fingers into\nSandy\u2019s arm in his excitement.\nBoth outlaws obviously had drawn knives now. Moonshine Sam must have\nstolen one before he escaped from the igloo. They circled warily. First\none then the other advanced, Mistak moving more swiftly on his\nsnowshoes, though his footwork was ponderous enough.\nMoonshine Sam finally ceased trying to outmaneuver his opponent, and\nstood stolidly, knee deep in the snow\u2014waiting.\nThen Mistak struck, like a flash. But Moonshine Sam was not so inexpert\nwith a knife as he was with a spear. The white outlaw parried Mistak\u2019s\nswift thrust and sent him reeling backward, almost falling when one\nsnowshoe caught on its mate. But the white Eskimo quickly regained his\nfeet, and began to circle again for an opening.\nFor several minutes Mistak kept Moonshine Sam turning about, then he\nrushed in again. The knives clashed and held. It was strength against\nstrength now as each outlaw strove to bring his knife downward for a\nfatal thrust. Weaving and straining, sometimes locked together as still\nas statues, the outlaws struggled, while the perspiration came out and\nfroze on the faces of the hidden boys.\nAt last the two men broke away from each other for a brief second, but\nthis time Moonshine Sam didn\u2019t wait for Mistak to attack. He lunged\nforward out of the snow and caught the white Eskimo by his knife, arm\nand waist. Three times the attacking outlaw\u2019s knife flashed up and down\nin the moonlight, and the boys knew Mistak had been wounded. Then the\nclenched two rolled to the snow, struggling like fiends. Minute after\nminute they fought, Mistak now handicapped by his snowshoes instead of\naided by them. At last the white Eskimo was pinned upon his back and\nMoonshine Sam\u2019s knife began slowly to descend against the strength of\nthe outlaw leader\u2019s left hand clutching the knife wrist.\nWith the end almost in sight, the boys heard a distant shout, and\nlooking north of them, saw four men bearing down the slope.\n\u201cThe police! The police!\u201d cried Dick, as he got to his feet and began\nshouting and waving to them.\nTwo of the four men ran toward the struggling outlaws, but they were too\nlate to stop the impending tragedy. Moonshine Sam\u2019s knife found its\nmark, and he arose, shaking the snow from his clothes, leaving a still\nform in the snow.\nIt was not until then that the victorious outlaw discovered the two\npolicemen descending upon him. With a startled shout, he started to run\naway, then aware that he could never get away alive, he shook his fists\ndefiantly at his pursuers, and with a hoarse yell, plunged his knife\ninto his own breast.\n\u201cHe\u2019s beaten the law!\u201d exclaimed Dick, horrified by this grim justice of\nthe frozen north. \u201cCome on, Sandy, let\u2019s go down and join the\npolicemen.\u201d\nThey found Corporals McCarthy and Thalman inspecting the two silent\nforms on the tundra when they arrived on the scene of the battle. Both\noutlaws were dead beyond a shadow of doubt.\n\u201cWell,\u201d Corporal McCarthy looked up from the silent face of Mistak, \u201cthe\ngame is over, and for once, the mounted got licked\u2014but it took death to\ndo it,\u201d he concluded grimly, briefly ordering that two graves should be\nhollowed out in the snow, and the bodies interred.\nDick and Sandy found a little later, that the two who had accompanied\nthe Corporals were the last of Mistak\u2019s band, an Indian and an\nEskimo\u2014both with their hands tied behind them. The corporals explained\nthat they had run across them starving in an igloo, after they had\ndeserted Mistak. The outlaws had given up without a struggle, morosely\naccepting a fate they considered less terrible than that which the awful\nnorthland might have dealt out to them.\nThough the shadow of the recent tragedy darkened their spirits, it was\nan infinitely relieved party that set out on the trail back to the\nsupply base. With every step that carried them further from those still\nforms in their snow graves, their hearts grew lighter.\nOn the way back they sighted Constable Sloan and Sipsa, and hailed them\nwith the tragic news. The two joined them on the return journey, and\nalready the talk was of the trip back to God\u2019s country in the spring.\n\u201cLordy, how glad I am it\u2019s all over,\u201d Sandy grew steadily more cheerful.\n\u201cMy, what I can tell Uncle Walter when I see him again!\u201d\n\u201cAbout all I\u2019m going to be interested in,\u201d Dick broke in, \u201cfor a few\ndays, after we get back to your uncle\u2019s post, is going to be good, roast\nturkey, with sage dressing\u2014pumpkin pie\u2014apple sauce\u2014nice brown pan\ngravy\u2014stewed cranberries\u2014coffee with sugar and cow\u2019s cream\u2014chocolate\npudd\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cStop!\u201d Sandy\u2019s exclamation expressed how his stomach rebelled against\nsuch fruitless tantalization. \u201cIf you say another word about food, I\u2019m\ngoing to die right here of starvation.\u201d\nDick slapped Sandy on the back and laughed, then arm in arm they went on\ntogether.\nThe last of the long night passed slowly but steadily away, and the\nspring came to gladden the hearts of Dick and Sandy.\nMarch 4th they saw the sun again, and never did they greet the rising of\nthat great orb with such heartfelt joy.\nA day later they started southward, Sipsa and the other Eskimos\naccompanying them to the mainland, which they reached safely in kayacks.\nLeaving all camp paraphernalia that they did not need, with the Eskimos,\nthey left the children of the north happy and sorry to see their white\nfriends go. Dick and Sandy, too, felt a pang in their hearts as Sipsa\u2019s\nsmiling face vanished out of their ken, probably never to be seen again.\nBut as they left the Arctic behind them, under the spring sun, all\nfeelings of regret at parting were replaced by one great and growing\njoy\u2014they were going home!\nIt was a gala day at the trading post of Walter McClaren, Hudson\u2019s Bay\nFactor; a day for feasting and story-telling. For Dick Kent and Sandy\nMcClaren had come back from the far north.\nIn the big dining room the factor\u2019s old Indian housekeeper and cook\nhovered about a long table loaded with the best products of her culinary\nart. Her stoic face could scarcely conceal the pleasure she derived from\nwitnessing the seemingly insatiable appetites of her master\u2019s nephew and\nhis chum.\nWalter McClaren, a big florid Scotchman, sat at the head of the table\nbeaming upon the boys and recalling his own boyhood days. He believed\nboys should have plenty of excitement and outdoor experience, and as he\nlistened to the ceaseless recounting of their recent adventures with the\nEskimos, his smile grew broader and broader, while the roast turkey and\ndressing vanished along with sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, stewed\ncranberries, and chocolate pudding.\n\u201cWe just caught the boat going south,\u201d Dick said between bites. \u201cIf we\u2019d\nbeen a day later we\u2019d have been held up more than a month before another\nboat came.\u201d\n\u201cI think you fellows have been pretty lucky,\u201d rejoined Sandy\u2019s uncle.\n\u201cIf I\u2019d known for a minute what I was sending you into, I\u2019d never let\nyou go.\u201d\n\u201cBut I\u2019m glad we went,\u201d returned Sandy. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t go through it again\nfor anything, but just the same after it\u2019s all over, I wouldn\u2019t trade\nthe experience for\u2014for a commission in the mounted police.\u201d\n\u201cThat just reminds me that from what Inspector Dunbar says, you fellows\nare slated for some kind of a special medal or something for your\nservices in the Arctic.\u201d\n\u201cMedals!\u201d Dick was alive in an instant, his half-eaten turkey drum stick\nforgotten for the moment. \u201cYou don\u2019t mean that, Uncle Sandy!\u201d\n\u201cWell, it must be a fact, if Inspector Dunbar said so,\u201d replied the\nfactor. \u201cBut that\u2019s not just exactly what I want to discuss with you\nfellows,\u201d continued the old Scotchman, knocking out his pipe on a leg of\nhis chair and refilling it. \u201cI have a proposition for you.\u201d\n\u201cA proposition!\u201d exclaimed Dick. \u201cWhat is it now. A lost mine? Buried\ntreasure? Outlaws? Missing men?\u201d\n\u201cHurry up. Tell us what it really is,\u201d Sandy exclaimed, alive with\ninterest.\n\u201cWell, you\u2019ll have to give me a chance to talk then,\u201d Mr. McClaren came\nback patiently. \u201cAnd Dick hasn\u2019t guessed what the proposition is. It\u2019s\nnot as profitable as lost mines or buried treasure, nor as dangerous as\nhunting outlaws, but more entertaining than hunting missing men. There\u2019s\nmoney in it, some excitement and a chance to make good with one of the\ngreatest organizations in the world.\u201d\nDick and Sandy were begging now, for their interest certainly had been\nintrigued. So engrossed had they become in what the proposition was\ngoing to be that they even forgot to eat, sitting there with their\nmouths open and loaded fork half suspended.\n\u201cThe proposition is this,\u201d the factor stated. \u201cI\u2019m thinking of starting\na branch fur-trading post near Great Slave Lake and I need some\nenterprising ambitious men to help out. There\u2019s some bad competition\u2014a\nfree trader in that region, but I think he\u2019ll be some careful what he\ndoes to any of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company men.\u201d\n\u201cGee, do you want us to be fur-traders?\u201d Sandy interrogated.\n\u201cThat\u2019s about the size of it, boys,\u201d Sandy\u2019s uncle replied. \u201cI\u2019m sending\none man up who is an expert on furs, and there\u2019ll be a mounted police\npost established there. You boys can help with the trading, and can hunt\nand fish and trap all you like. It will be a real vacation from the hard\njob you had in the Arctic.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s beginning to look good to me already,\u201d Dick spoke eagerly. \u201cWhat\ndo you say, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m for it if you are,\u201d replied Dick\u2019s chum, \u201cand we can take Toma\nalong.\u201d\nThe young Indian who had remained impassive during the conversation,\nbrightened at Sandy\u2019s words and his dusky face was split by a huge grin.\nHe had been afraid of being left out of the plans and was now much\nrelieved.\nThe factor signaled the old Indian housekeeper. \u201cPour us all some more\ncoffee,\u201d he directed. \u201cI\u2019m going to propose a toast.\u201d\nDick and Sandy exchanged glances. What was the toast going to be, they\nwondered.\nWhen the coffee cups were all filled and creamed and sugared, the old\nfactor stood up and the boys did likewise. Lifting his cup high over his\nhead, Mr. McClaren said:\n\u201cHere\u2019s to the health of Dick Kent, fur trader, and may he never buy a\npelt that sheds or trade a rifle for a black cat\u2019s hide thinking it\u2019s a\nblack fox skin.\u201d\nThe boys burst out laughing, but touched cups with Sandy\u2019s uncle and\ndrank the toast.\n\u201cNow let me give a toast,\u201d Dick spoke up.\n\u201cGo ahead,\u201d Mr. McClaren agreed.\nAssuming a gallant pose, Dick upraised his cup and said solemnly:\n\u201cHere\u2019s to Factor McClaren the best sport in the world and the jolliest\nbachelor.\u201d\nIt was Walter McClaren\u2019s turn to laugh, and his big voice shook the very\nlog beams of the dining room.\nSandy was about to propose another toast, when there came a knock at the\ndoor.\nThe factor motioned the housekeeper to open the door. All eyes turned to\nsee the visitor. Into the living room of the cabin stamped a tall man,\nresplendent in the scarlet coat of the mounted.\n\u201cHello there, Corporal McCarthy,\u201d shouted the boys, recognizing the\nleader of their recent expedition.\nThe Corporal paused in the doorway leading into the dining room. He\nreturned the boys\u2019 greetings in kind, then drew himself up to attention,\nproudly displaying the medals on his chest, and saluted:\n\u201cInspector Dunbar requests the presence of Dick Kent and Sandy\nMcClaren,\u201d announced the Corporal solemnly and impressively, \u201cfor\npresentation of special decorations in reward for their Arctic services\nwith the Royal Northwest Mounted Police!\u201d\nDick whistled, Sandy gasped, and both blushed, then Corporal McCarthy\ncame around and shook their hands, slapping them on the back heartily,\nwhile Sandy\u2019s uncle added his sincere congratulations.\n\u201cBut what about Toma?\u201d Dick asked the Corporal, when he had recovered\nfrom his embarrassment. \u201cIs he left out?\u201d\n\u201cS-s-h. The Inspector has a surprise for him,\u201d whispered the Corporal.\n\u201cA brand new 22 High Power rifle.\u201d\nSo did the King\u2019s policemen make happy hearts of their loyal and daring\nyoung servants.\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and\n  dialect unchanged.\n--Added a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.\n--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the\n  HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Dick Kent with the Eskimos, by Milton Richards\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK KENT WITH THE ESKIMOS ***\n***** This file should be named 50816-0.txt or 50816-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\nwill be renamed.\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\n\u201cDick Kent with the Mounted Police,\u201d \u201cDick Kent in the Far North,\u201d \u201cDick\n  Kent with the Eskimos,\u201d \u201cDick Kent, Fur Trader,\u201d \u201cDick Kent with the\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                          Copyright MCMXXVIII\n                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY\n                 _Made in the United States of America_\n                       DICK KENT ON SPECIAL DUTY\n                     RAND TACKLES A DIFFICULT CASE\n\u201cRat\u201d MacGregor dropped to the floor and crawled on hands and knees to\nthe bunk wherein Dewberry, weary after hours of heavy mushing over an\nalmost unbroken trail, now slept the sleep of the just. Dewberry\u2019s\nraucous snores could be heard plainly. He lay face up, mouth partly\nopen, while one large, hairy arm hung limply over the side of his bed.\nMacGregor knew that Dewberry was really asleep. Not only did he know\nthis, but he was cognizant of another fact, of which he alone was the\nsole possessor. He knew that the big Englishman could not easily be\nawakened. He was aware that something else besides weariness and\nexhaustion compelled Dewberry to slumber thus. And he grinned over the\nthought of it.\nBefore retiring for the night, the prospector had, following the usual\ncustom, removed none of his clothes. Neither had he troubled to unstrap\nthe money-belt that he wore, and place it in safe-keeping. The\nmoney-belt was full, almost bursting with yellowbacks and greenbacks of\nvarious denominations. But the thing which interested MacGregor even\nmore, was the small poke, suspended from a moosehide cord, and tied\nsecurely about the sleeping man\u2019s neck.\nIn his present predicament, the prospector would have been easy prey for\nthe figure who crept towards him, had circumstances been a little\ndifferent. The difference was this: In the room, the large airy room of\none \u201cFrenchie\u201d Frischette, keeper of road-houses, were a number of other\npersons besides MacGregor and the drugged Dewberry.\nThese persons reclined in various attitudes and conditions of sleep. Not\na few of them, including Corporal Rand, of the Royal North West Mounted\npolice, possessed\u2014even in slumber\u2014a sense of hearing exceedingly acute.\nThe creak of a board, a sudden rustling movement\u2014almost any noise at\nall\u2014would have aroused them at once. No one realized this any better\nthan MacGregor. His job had been only half accomplished a few hours\nbefore when, with very little difficulty, he had drugged the man from\nCrooked Stick River.\nThe thief rose slowly to a position on his knees. He was so close to his\nvictim that the man\u2019s feverish breath fanned his cheek. He could hear\nplainly his own heart and the heart of the sleeper, beating in a sort of\nwild harmony together. His right hand was within eight inches of the\nrugged prospector, yet he seemed unable, powerless to extend it one\ninfinitesimal part of the distance which separated it from the actual\npoint of contact.\nIn the dull, red glow of the fireplace he could see the tell-tale bulge\non Dewberry\u2019s barrel-like chest. It filled him with a sort of agony to\nrealize that at the crucial moment he lacked the courage and the\nstrength to accomplish his task. Never before had he been so overcome\nwith weakness. A few quick movements only were required to bring wealth\ninto his grasp; yet here he knelt, with a cold dampness suffusing his\nface and a tingling paralysis of all his muscles.\nThe prospector groaned and moved slightly, then raised one knee in a\nconvulsive movement of pain. MacGregor shrank back trembling, his eyes\ndarting about apprehensively. In a far corner another form stirred\nuneasily and a loud, full-throated cough broke across the stillness like\na trumpet of doom.\nSeveral minutes elapsed before MacGregor had recovered sufficiently from\nhis fright to attempt another furtive movement forward. This time he\nsummoned to his aid the last remnant of a wilted spirit. His hands went\nout toward Dewberry\u2019s throat. These clammy physical members found the\ncord, but his fingers refused to function in his efforts to untie the\nknot. For a moment he hesitated, then with a low, almost inhuman growl,\nhe tore his hunting knife from its sheath and tried to cut the cord. In\nhis haste, inadvertently the sharp point of the knife pricked the\nsleeping man\u2019s chest and, to MacGregor\u2019s great astonishment and horror,\nDewberry started visibly and opened his eyes.\nThe aroma of freshly fried bacon filled the room. Standing among his\npots and pans, nursing a new-found despair, \u201cFrenchie\u201d Frischette,\nroad-house keeper and gentleman of parts, could hear the approaching\nfigure. The pupils of his eyes were like beads of glass as they\nencountered the trim, athletic figure of Corporal Rand.\n\u201c_Oui_,\u201d he admitted slowly, \u201cze beeg prospector ees dead. You saw\nheem?\u201d\nCorporal Rand nodded.\n\u201cHow many men have already left?\u201d he inquired.\n\u201cZay haf all left,\u201d Frischette shrugged his shoulders regretfully. \u201cMany\nbefore dawn. Zay go in ever\u2019 direction\u2014both ze good men and ze bad. How\nyou find heem of ze beeg knife?\u201d\n\u201cThe man who stabbed and robbed Dewberry will go south,\u201d Corporal Rand\nstated with conviction. \u201cIt is the law of the land. Men, who have money,\ninvariably go south\u2014to spend it. Is there anything more simple than\nthat, Frischette? The rule seldom fails. Adventure goes north and money\ngoes south. I\u2019m taking the trail south.\u201d\nThe road-house keeper moistened his dry lips.\n\u201cI see heem four men go on the south trail ver\u2019 early roun\u2019 five\no\u2019clock.\u201d\n\u201cTogether?\u201d\n\u201cZay went each by heemself.\u201d\n\u201cNo doubt, one of those four men is the murderer.\u201d\n\u201cYou t\u2019ink so?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the policeman stubbornly, \u201cI\u2019m quite sure the murderer would\ntravel south. At any rate, I\u2019m going in that direction. So long,\nFrischette.\u201d\nTwo days later, Corporal Rand was forced to admit that in this case, at\nleast, a precedent had been broken. None of the four men was the\nmurderer. Two were Indians from Lac la Biche; a third, Beckholt, a free\ntrader, a serene, gray-eyed veteran of the North, was above suspicion.\nFather Marchand, who completed the quartette, could not for one moment\nbe included in any inventory of crime.\nWithout even taking the time to question one of them, Rand swung about\nand retraced his way to the scene of the recent murder.\nIn the policeman\u2019s absence, Frischette had made an important discovery.\nEagerly and somewhat excitedly, he told the story in a mixture of poor\nEnglish and bastard French. Fontaine, a half-breed boy in Frischette\u2019s\nservice, had seen, on the evening preceding the robbery, a tall,\nfurtive-eyed man mix two drinks\u2014one for himself and one for the\nprospector. In the cup intended for Dewberry, the tall, furtive-eyed man\nhad poured something out of a small bottle. Shortly thereafter, the big\nprospector had stumbled to his pile of blankets and had fallen asleep.\nIn doubt, Rand questioned the boy closely. At first, he did not believe\nFontaine was telling the truth. Then it became apparent, following a\nsevere cross-examination, that Fontaine had really seen what he had\ndescribed\u2014was wholly innocent of guile. The description of the\nfurtive-eyed man, his mannerisms, his clothing, the way he walked, had\nquickly brought a picture to Rand\u2019s mind. There was no possibility of\nany mistake here. It was MacGregor, \u201cRat\u201d MacGregor, of the Willow Lake\ncountry.\nSoberly, the mounted policeman pondered his problem. If \u201cRat\u201d MacGregor\nwas the murderer, as the cards seemed to indicate, why, with so much\nmoney in his possession, had he set out on a trail which led farther\ninto the wilderness? By all the rules of common sense, a person of\nMacGregor\u2019s caliber would have lost no time in getting back to the gay\n\u201coutside.\u201d[1] It was inevitable. The desire within him would have been\nstronger than the will to resist. A powerful influence indeed, that\nwould pull a man north when wealth was burning his pockets.\nTen days later, Rand found MacGregor in a small cabin below the Finley\nRiver. First he had seen a man and woman together, then two scrambling\nforms, a door closed hastily, and presently a gray puff of smoke from a\nwindow near the front of the house. The bullet whistled over his head,\nstruck harmlessly in the brush behind him. A second cut into a drift to\nhis right. A third, lilting of death, grazed his shoulder, causing him\nto sit down very suddenly.\nThereafter, Rand moved slowly and painfully. This time he advanced\ntoward the cabin more cautiously. Fifty feet from his objective, he\nthrew himself down behind a snow-covered log, lit his pipe and dully\npondered what he ought to do next. For several hours MacGregor continued\nto blaze away intermittently from the window. After that darkness came\nand an interval of silence. The cold had grown more intense, more\nbitter. By degrees, a peculiar numbness had settled over the policeman\u2019s\nshoulders and along his wounded side.\nA moment later, he struggled to his knees, then rose deliberately and\nwalked ahead in the direction of the cabin. In front of the door he\npaused, every sense alert. No sound issued from within; nor could he see\neven a faint glimmer of light. Somewhere inside, Rat MacGregor\u2014true to\nhis name\u2014skulked in the dark\u2014and his wife with him.\nThe faint outline of a block of wood, lying in the snow at his feet,\ndrew his attention. Acting upon a sudden angry impulse, he stooped\nforward, picked it up, and raised it high above his head. It catapulted\nfrom his powerful arms, striking the window with a resounding crash. A\nwoman screamed. Her terrified cry rang out through the deep hush that\nensued and, accompanying its last wailing note, MacGregor\u2019s guns\nspoke\u2014two fiery flashes, not unlike the red tongue of a serpent\u2014darting\nout into the gloom.\nShoulders hunched, Rand struck the door with a furious impact, and the\nbolts gave way. As he fell forward into the room, one hand clutched his\ngun. Again MacGregor fired; this time wildly, foolishly, for the flash\nof his revolver indicated only too well his position, and Rand had him\nalmost before the sound of the other\u2019s weapon had become smothered in\nthe deep stillness of the room.\nMacGregor\u2019s resistance had cost him his life. Ten minutes later, in the\nflickering glow of a wax candle, the mounted policeman looked down at\nthe prone and lifeless form.\n\u201cWell,\u201d he said, turning suddenly upon the girl, a rather pretty French\nhalf-breed, \u201cwhere is the money?\u201d\nThe half-breed grunted and looked sarcastically, indignantly at Rand.\n\u201cNo have money. No take money. Why you keel my man?\u201d she wailed\ntearfully. \u201cMounted police! Bah!\u201d\n\u201cEasy,\u201d cautioned Rand. \u201cWhere\u2019s that money?\u201d He drew up to his full\nheight. \u201cBetter answer me quickly now or I\u2019ll take you along too.\u201d\n\u201cNo money,\u201d insisted the girl. \u201cHe no catch \u2019em money that time. Beeg\nprospector wake up. No chance then. My man he come away.\u201d\n\u201cRot!\u201d declared the policeman. \u201cYour man killed Dewberry. Robbed him.\nNobody else.\u201d\n\u201cLeesen!\u201d MacGregor\u2019s wife plucked at his sleeve. \u201cYou think wrong this\ntime. You make heem beeg mistake. My man no rob, no keel\u2014nothing! I\nprove you find no money here. My man heem try rob, but no get nothing.\nOtherwise, we go south\u2014Edmonton. No can go without money.\u201d\nAlthough Rand was certain that the half-breed lied, a careful and\npainstaking search of the premises failed to reveal the hiding place of\nDewberry\u2019s gold. Baffled, he was forced on the day following to place\nthe girl under arrest and set out for detachment headquarters, two\nhundred miles away. There he filled in his report, turned the prisoner\nover to Inspector Cameron for further questioning.\nBut to no avail. Invariably the same answer, repeated over and over\nagain:\n\u201cMy man heem no rob, no keel. No take beeg prospector\u2019s money. Mounted\npolice! Bah!\u201d\nFrom that point it became a baffling case indeed. Corporal Rand, to whom\nit had been assigned, still believed, in the months that followed, that\nMacGregor had committed the murder. But where was the money and the\npoke? Did the girl really know where Dewberry\u2019s gold was? If the theft\nhad actually been committed by MacGregor, why had he broken precedent\nand remained in the North.\nAt Frischette\u2019s stopping-place, two miles east of the Big Smoky River,\nRand heard again Fontaine\u2019s story of the drugged drink, together with\nsuch other information as the two Frenchmen could supply. Both were of\nthe opinion that MacGregor, and no one else, had planned and executed\nthe crime. Frischette\u2019s voice came droning in his ears:\n\u201cZat girl she know well enough where money ees. Not crazy zat girl; ver\u2019\nclever, ver\u2019 clever.\u201d His low chuckling laugh gradually grew boisterous.\n\u201cWhat you think, Corporal, zat girl foolish enough to tell ze mounted\npolice ever\u2019thing. Mebbe after while she go south too.\u201d\nPreoccupied as he was, Rand caught the significance of that last\nstatement.\n\u201cAre _you_ going south, Frischette?\u201d\nThe Frenchman nodded.\n\u201cYesterday I sell my beezness. I haf done ver\u2019 well here, corporal.\u201d\nThen his voice sank to a confidential whisper. \u201cIn ze las\u2019 two, tree,\nfour year I make much money\u2014ver\u2019 much money. Now you wish me ze good\nluck, corporal.\u201d\n\u201cGood luck,\u201d said Rand, his brow wrinkling. \u201cYes. By the way, whom did\nyou sell to?\u201d\nFrischette hesitated, his little eyes gleaming queerly.\n\u201cI no sell exactly. I haf too much already\u2014too much money. Fontaine ees\na good boy, monsieur. You understand\u2014a good boy. He learn queek. He\ndeserve much from me. For a few hundred I sell heem my beeg beezness.\u201d\nStill thinking deeply, Corporal Rand walked outside and sat on a rough\nbench in the warm spring sun. Why had MacGregor failed to go south if he\nhad really robbed Dewberry of his gold. Men with money travelled south\ninvariably. There was no other rule. It had seldom been broken. Why,\nFrischette himself, who had made a lot of money during his stay in the\nNorth, now contemplated going south to spend it.\nWith a sudden exclamation, Rand jumped to his feet. No! The rule had\nnever been broken. MacGregor probably killed, but he never robbed\nDewberry. He wondered if the man who had robbed Dewberry was inside.\n\u201cFrischette,\u201d said the mounted policeman a moment later, \u201cI wish to ask\na favor of you.\u201d\n\u201cYes, monsieur.\u201d\n\u201cYou are going south?\u201d\n\u201cYes, monsieur.\u201d\n\u201cHow soon?\u201d\n\u201cIn ver\u2019 few days, corporal. Why you ask.\u201d\n\u201cBecause I may need your help. I am going to ask you to remain here for\na while. I shall ask you to stay here until I have recovered Dewberry\u2019s\ngold.\u201d\nRand watched the other closely. The eyes of the road-house keeper\nnarrowed slightly\u2014but that was all.\n\u201cEt ees as you say, monsieur.\u201d\nThen Frischette turned and walked back into the kitchen.\nOne bright spring morning Corporal Rand arrived at Fort Good Faith. It\nwas somewhat off his regular route, but he had a purpose in mind. There\nwere three young men there he very much wished to see. One of them was\nDick Kent, the second, Sandy MacClaren, a nephew of the factor, and the\nthird, a young Indian, named Toma. On many occasions previously the\nthree boys had given unsparingly of their services. The police needed\ntheir help now.\nWorking on the Dewberry case, Corporal Rand had suddenly remembered\nabout the boys and had decided to call upon them for assistance. They\ncould help him in clearing up the mystery. All three were unknown to\nFrischette. They might be able to secure valuable information he\ncouldn\u2019t obtain himself. So, immediately after his arrival, he summoned\nthe three boys and made known his plans.\n\u201cI would suggest,\u201d he concluded, \u201cthat the three of you, masquerading as\nyoung prospectors, drop into Frischette\u2019s place and remain there several\ndays on some pretext or other. You can say that you\u2019re waiting for\nsupplies, coming in by pack-train from Fort Good Faith. Cultivate\nFrischette\u2019s acquaintance. Make friends with Fontaine, the half-breed\nboy in his service. See how much information you can pick up about\nDewberry and \u2018Rat\u2019 MacGregor.\u201d\n\u201cBut do you really believe,\u201d Dick asked, \u201cthat Frischette knows any more\nabout the murder than he has already given out to you?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not sure.\u201d Corporal Rand pursed his lips. \u201cBut one thing is slowly\ndawning upon me.\u201d\n\u201cWhat?\u201d asked Sandy breathlessly.\n\u201cThat MacGregor\u2019s wife was right, that MacGregor didn\u2019t take Dewberry\u2019s\nmoney, or the small poke he had around his neck.\u201d\n\u201cBut if he didn\u2019t take it, who did?\u201d Dick inquired.\n\u201cFrischette himself might have taken it.\u201d\n\u201cSurely MacGregor had something to do with it,\u201d argued Sandy.\nCorporal Rand rose and walked slowly across the floor to a little table,\nwhere he helped himself to a glass of water. He turned and regarded the\nboys thoughtfully.\n\u201cHere is a supposition that may throw a little light on what actually\noccurred. \u2018Rat\u2019 MacGregor, as we have reason to believe, was the first\nperson to have designs upon Dewberry. He planned the robbery. He drugged\nhis victim. Evidently murder did not enter into his calculations. When\nall was still in the room, MacGregor crept over to Dewberry\u2019s bunk to\ncommit the robbery.\n\u201cIn some way his plans went wrong. Perhaps the drug had not proved\nsufficiently potent. While taking the money and poke, let us say,\nDewberry woke up. Perhaps Dewberry made some slight exclamation or\nsound, which terrified MacGregor and which also might have aroused some\nother sleeper in that room. In desperation, we will assume, MacGregor\nmurdered Dewberry, but is surprised in the act by this other person who\nhad awakened. Just for the sake of my theory, we will say that that\nperson was Frischette, that in some way he got the \u2018drop\u2019 on MacGregor,\ncompelling him to hand over the money and poke and then forcing him to\nleave the place immediately.\u201d\n\u201cYes, that is plausible,\u201d agreed Dick. \u201cBut why Frischette? There were\nother persons in the room beside him. Why do you think that Frischette\nmay be the guilty one?\u201d\n\u201cBecause Frischette is planning to leave the country. He claims that he\nhad made a lot of money up here, and is now giving his business to the\nboy, Fontaine, for a small consideration. That in itself is suspicious.\nFrischette\u2019s determination to go \u2018outside\u2019 surprised me because I\nremember that, less than a year ago, he confided to me his intention to\nbuild three new road-houses here in the North.\u201d\n\u201cWhen is he planning to leave?\u201d asked Sandy.\nCorporal Rand smiled reminiscently.\n\u201cHe expected to go this week, but he has changed his mind since my last\ntalk with him. As a personal favor to me, he has consented to postpone\nhis journey until this little mystery has been cleared up.\u201d\n\u201cBut do you think that Frischette is aware that you suspect him of the\ntheft?\u201d\n\u201cNo, I believe not. I merely told him that he would be of invaluable\nassistance to me in solving this case, and that the mounted police would\nbe deeply indebted to him if he would consent to remain here for a few\nweeks longer.\u201d\nDick and Sandy both laughed.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet he\u2019s worried stiff,\u201d grinned the latter, \u201cthat is, if he\u2019s\nreally the thief. By the way, corporal, how much money did this Dewberry\nhave in his possession at the time of the murder?\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s no way of determining the exact amount,\u201d Rand answered.\n\u201cProbably several hundred dollars in cash.\u201d\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t think that that would be sufficient bait to tempt\nMacGregor.\u201d\n\u201cThere was the poke. Don\u2019t forget that.\u201d\n\u201cBut you said it was a small one. Perhaps there wasn\u2019t more than a few\nhundred dollars in nuggets and gold dust.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not sure that it was gold.\u201d\n\u201cWhat makes you say that?\u201d\n\u201cWell, it was a very small poke. That much I know. It was almost too\nsmall for a prospector\u2019s pouch. As you have suggested, if it contained\nnuggets, there would scarcely be a fortune there\u2014hardly enough to tempt\nMacGregor. MacGregor would never have taken the chance he did for the\nsmall amount involved. He was naturally a coward, a sneaking human rat,\nand only a big stake could have induced him to gather sufficient courage\nto make the effort. After reasoning it all out, I have come to the\nconclusion that MacGregor must have known what that poke contained:\nSomething infinitely more valuable than gold.\u201d\n\u201cMore valuable!\u201d exclaimed Dick.\n\u201cYes. Why not? Precious stones\u2014or a secret of some sort worth thousands\nof dollars.\u201d\nSandy sat up, clutching the sides of his chair.\n\u201cI\u2019ll say this is getting interesting. You\u2019re arousing my curiosity,\ncorporal. I love a mystery.\u201d\n\u201cWell, you have one here,\u201d smiled Rand. \u201cThe morning after the murder I\ncame to the conclusion that it would not be a very difficult case.\nHowever, it seems that I was wrong. Apparently, \u2018Rat\u2019 MacGregor is not\nthe only person involved. Before we sift this thing to the bottom, we\nmay discover that many persons are implicated. It is one of the most\nmysterious, unusual cases with which I have ever had to deal.\u201d\n\u201cHow do you purpose to work it all out?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m almost wholly at a loss to know. I haven\u2019t a great deal to go on.\nIt occurred to me that you boys might be able to pick up information\nthat I couldn\u2019t get myself. You may be able to find a clew. In the\nmeantime, I\u2019m going over to Crooked Stick River\u2014the place where Dewberry\ncame from just before the murder\u2014and question some of the people there.\nPerhaps Dewberry had a friend or two in whom he confided. Certain it is\nthat the contents of that poke has been seen by someone. Otherwise, to\nuse a well known expression, MacGregor never would have been \u2018tipped\noff.\u2019\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t you suppose that Dewberry might have told MacGregor about his\nsecret?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cScarcely likely. MacGregor was hardly the type of person in whom one\nwould confide. He was a notorious character here in the North. He had a\nvery unsavory reputation. At various times he had been implicated in\ncertain questionable undertakings, and once had served a term in jail.\u201d\n\u201cYou think, then, that MacGregor had been following Dewberry?\u201d\n\u201cYes, awaiting his opportunity. He\u2019d learned of the secret. But I\u2019m\npositive that Dewberry gave him no information at all.\u201d\nThus far Toma, naturally reticent, had taken no part in the\nconversation. He sat rigid in his chair, eyes wide with interest,\nnothing escaping him. Suddenly he drawled forth:\n\u201cWhen you want us go over this fellow Frischette\u2019s place?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cTomorrow, if you will,\u201d answered the corporal. \u201cArrange to stay there\nfor three or four days. Then come back here to meet me.\u201d\n\u201cI know this young fellow, Fontaine, you talk about,\u201d Toma informed\nthem. \u201cOne time we pretty good friends. We go to school one time at\nMission. If he know anything, me pretty sure him tell Toma.\u201d\n\u201cGood!\u201d exclaimed Corporal Rand. \u201cI\u2019m glad to hear that, Toma. Your\nfriendship with Fontaine may be the means of solving this mystery. If\nFrischette is implicated, Fontaine must be aware of it.\u201d\nThe policeman rose to his feet again.\n\u201cWell, I guess you understand what\u2019s to be done. If you\u2019ll excuse me,\nI\u2019ll hurry away now. I want to see Inspector Cameron for a few minutes\nbefore I go on to the Crooked Stick.\u201d\nHe turned and shook hands with each of the boys in turn.\n\u201cWell, good luck to you. I hope you\u2019ll like your new role of police\ndetectives. When you return, you\u2019ll probably find me here awaiting you.\u201d\nOn the evening of the following day, the three boys, dressed for the\npart, arrived at Frischette\u2019s road-house. It had been a warm afternoon\nand the boys were weary as they rode up to the well known stopping place\nand slowly dismounted. Sandy paused to wipe the perspiration from his\nface.\n\u201cWe\u2019re here\u2014\u201d he announced, \u201cmosquitos and all.\u201d He looked curiously\nabout him. \u201cSo this is the famous stopping-place. I\u2019ve often heard of\nit. It\u2019s one of the largest road-houses north of the Peace River. They\nsay that Frischette is an interesting character. He\u2019s lived in the North\na good many years.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s observations were cut short by the appearance of two young\nhalf-breeds, who sauntered over in their direction. Toma gave vent to an\nexclamation, dropped the reins over his pony\u2019s head and advanced quickly\nto meet them.\n\u201cOne of them must be Fontaine,\u201d guessed Sandy.\n\u201cBut he knows them both,\u201d observed Dick.\nImmediately Toma and his two friends approached and introductions took\nplace.\n\u201cThis him fellow,\u201d Toma was explicit, \u201cmy friend, Pierre Fontaine. This\nother fellow, also my friend, Martin Le Sueur. He come long way this\nmorning to be with Pierre. Mebbe after while they be partners an\u2019 buy\nFrischette\u2019s business.\u201d\nBoth Le Sueur and Fontaine spoke very little English, so the\nconversation that ensued, a lively one, was carried on in Cree. While it\nwas taking place, the boys put up their ponies and walked back in the\ndirection of the hostelry. No sooner had they entered, than Frischette,\nwith his usual hospitality, came forward to bid them welcome. As he did\nso, Dick gave him the benefit of a close scrutiny.\nHe was a little man, dark, vivacious\u2014typically French. Yet his lively\nfeatures showed the unmistakable Indian strain of his mixed origin. He\nconducted the boys to the dining room, talking as he went.\n\u201cVery hungry you must be, monsieurs. Sit down for a moment. We have\nplenty to eat here. I myself will serve you. Baked whitefish from ze\nwater only an hour. Brown bread which I bake with my own hands. Then\nthere ees coffee an\u2019 a sweet pastry, monsieurs.\u201d\n\u201cI was hungry, but I\u2019m famished now after hearing all that,\u201d Sandy\ndeclared. \u201cYou are very generous, Mr. Frischette.\u201d\n\u201cEt ees nothing.\u201d The Frenchman waved his arms deprecatingly. \u201cI like et\nyou come here once in a while during thees lonesome summer to make ze\ncompany. I am glad to learn that you are friends of thees ver\u2019 good boy,\nFontaine.\u201d\nTheir welcome had been so whole-hearted and spontaneous that Dick did\nnot, even for a moment, believe that Frischette\u2019s manner was assumed. In\nspite of himself, he was drawn toward the vivacious, hospitable\nFrenchman. A capital host! It was difficult to see how Corporal Rand\ncould harbor suspicion against such a person. The genial road-house\nkeeper had none of the characteristics nor any of the appearances of a\ncriminal.\nThat was Dick\u2019s first impression of the man. Nor did he stand alone in\nthis respect. Sandy, too, had been impressed favorably. Just before\nretiring for the night, the young Scotchman whispered in his chum\u2019s ear:\n\u201cLook here, Dick, if you want my honest opinion, I think we\u2019ve come on a\nwild goose chase. I believe Corporal Rand is wrong. After seeing and\ntalking with this man Frischette, I\u2019m absolutely certain that he\u2019s\ninnocent. Someone else is the guilty person.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t help thinking that too,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cIf looks and actions\nare not deceiving, Frischette is innocent. I doubt if he knows any more\nabout the case than he\u2019s already told Rand. Just the same, we\u2019ll remain\nhere and follow the corporal\u2019s instructions.\u201d\n\u201cJust wasting time,\u201d grumbled Sandy.\nSuddenly, they were aware of a presence near them. Both looked up\nquickly and a little guiltily, expecting to see Frischette himself.\nInstead it was Toma\u2014Toma, a curious expression on his face, the light of\nexcitement in his eyes.\n\u201cSandy, Dick,\u201d he announced breathlessly, \u201cyou come with me. I find out\nsomething important to tell you!\u201d\n                         FRISCHETTE\u2019S MONEY BOX\nToma led Sandy and Dick to the seclusion of a poplar grove, a few rods\naway from the house. His manner was mysterious. That he had come in\npossession of information of extreme importance, neither of his two\nfriends could doubt. The young Indian\u2019s eyes fairly snapped, as he\nmotioned Dick and Sandy to be seated, he himself taking a position near\nthem. Sprawling out on the soft turf, he began eagerly:\n\u201cI think better we come to this place, where no one hear us. I just find\nout something about Frischette. Fontaine tell me. Good news for the\nmounted police.\u201d\n\u201cI hope you didn\u2019t tell your friend what we were here for,\u201d interrupted\nDick. \u201cWe mustn\u2019t take anyone into our confidence.\u201d\n\u201cI no tell him that,\u201d Toma assured him. \u201cAll I do is ask once in a while\nfew questions \u2019bout Frischette. Then my friend, Fontaine, him talk. Tell\n\u2019em me all \u2019bout murder. He think MacGregor get money all right, an\u2019\nhide it away somewhere before police catch him. Never once it come in my\nfriend\u2019s mind that mebbe Frischette take the money an\u2019 the poke himself.\nFrischette, he say, is good man, but very queer fellow. Once in a while\nhe do queer things\u2014things Fontaine not understand. Every few days he get\nout all his money, take it to room where he sleep, lock door, an\u2019 begin\ncount many, many times. Over an\u2019 over he count all his money \u2019til he get\ntired, then he take an\u2019 put it back in box an\u2019 walk outside an\u2019 find\nanother good place to hide it.\u201d\n\u201cA miser!\u201d gasped Sandy.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what you call him. But Frischette very queer that way.\nFontaine \u2019fraid to ask him any questions or make talk when Frischette\nlike that, because he act like crazy an\u2019 swear an\u2019 beat Fontaine with a\nbig stick if he say too much.\u201d\n\u201cThe mere fact that Frischette is a miser, Toma,\u201d Sandy pointed out,\n\u201cdoesn\u2019t necessarily imply that he\u2019s also a thief. If he wants to hide\nhis money and gloat over it, that\u2019s his own privilege.\u201d\nToma nodded.\n\u201cYes, I know that. But Fontaine tell me something that make me think\nthat mebbe Frischette steal money too.\u201d\n\u201cIs that so? What did he say?\u201d\n\u201cHe say,\u201d Toma hurried on, \u201cthat two times last winter a very queer\nthing happen. First time he wake up at night an\u2019 hear someone walking in\nroom, where all the men sleep. Next morning one man him say he lost all\nhis money. Frischette feel very bad an\u2019 give man mebbe ten dollars an\u2019\nsay how sorry he is that once in a while thief comes like that in his\nhouse.\u201d\n\u201cSo next time,\u201d continued the young Indian, \u201cwhen Fontaine hear someone\nwalk again in middle of the night, he go quick as he can to Frischette\u2019s\nroom, an\u2019 he very much surprise when he see no one sleep in Frischette\u2019s\nbed. Quick he go back again to room, an\u2019 all at once he meet Frischette\ncoming out.\u201d\n\u201c\u2018What you do here?\u2019\u201d Frischette say.\n\u201c\u2018I hear noise,\u2019 Fontaine tell him, \u2018an\u2019 I go to wake you up.\u2019\n\u201c\u2018I hear noise too,\u2019 Frischette say, \u2018so I come in here to find out\nmebbe another bad thief come,\u2019 he say.\n\u201cNext morning, sure enough, two men lose all their money, an\u2019 Frischette\nvery sorry again an\u2019 say bad things \u2019bout thief an\u2019 give each man ten\ndollars.\u201d\n\u201cIt does look suspicious,\u201d mused Dick.\n\u201cSomething of a coincidence,\u201d agreed Sandy.\nThey sat for a short time deep in thought. Sandy got out his knife and\nbegan whittling a stick. Dick\u2019s gaze wandered thoughtfully away to the\nfringe of woodland opposite.\n\u201cIt might not be very difficult,\u201d he broke forth suddenly, \u201cto determine\nbeyond the shadow of a doubt whether or not Frischette is a thief. In\nfact, I have a plan. We might try it.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is your plan?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll lay a trap for him. Between us we can scrape up a little roll of\nmoney, and we\u2019ll use that as bait. I\u2019ll pull it out of my pocket when\nhe\u2019s looking, and pretend I\u2019m counting it.\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes! Go on.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll return the money to the inside pocket of my coat while he\u2019s still\nwatching me. At night, when he comes into the room, I\u2019ll throw my coat\ncarelessly over a chair.\u201d\n\u201cLook here,\u201d objected Sandy, a wry smile on his face, \u201cI don\u2019t think we\nhave fifty dollars between us. Hardly an impressive roll, is it?\u201d\nDick grinned. \u201cI can easily remedy that.\u201d\nAs he spoke, he pulled from his pocket a number of old envelopes,\ncontaining letters, wadded them together and then began wrapping crisp\nnew bills around them. With the acquisition of the bank notes Toma and\nSandy gave him, the dummy had grown to noble proportions. The boys\nlaughed gleefully over the subterfuge.\nA short time later, returning to the house, Dick awaited his\nopportunity. Frischette was nowhere to be seen, when first they entered,\nbut presently a noise at the back attracted their attention and\nimmediately afterward Frischette came through the door, leading into the\nkitchen, carrying a box under his arm.\nDick and Sandy exchanged significant glances. Both recalled what Toma\nhad told them regarding that box. Also they observed the inexplicable\nchange that had come over their host. His animation and vivacity were\ngone. From under their shaggy brows his dark eyes darted glances from\nright to left\u2014the look of a maniac or insane person. Without even a nod,\nhe passed by the three boys and entered his own room.\n\u201cGot \u2019em again,\u201d whispered Sandy, much taken aback. \u201cNot a very good\ntime for the working out of our plan, is it? He\u2019s deeply engrossed in\nthat mysterious box by this time.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019d better try it out on him tomorrow,\u201d decided Dick. \u201cHe\u2019ll be in\nthere several hours, and it will probably take him another hour to find\na new hiding place for his precious treasure chest. It\u2019s getting late\nnow. We ought to be in bed.\u201d\nThe boys went over and sat down on a long bench near the fireplace and\nbegan idly to take mental inventory of the room. Bear skins hung from\nthe wall. In the center of the room stood a long rough board table,\ncovered with a somewhat frayed and tattered cloth. Above the mantel were\nseveral firearms of various caliber and design.\nSuddenly, Sandy leaned forward and clapped Dick on the knee.\n\u201cDick, I have an idea. Just for the fun of it, let\u2019s follow the old\nrascal and find out where he hides that box.\u201d\nDick looked at the other dubiously.\n\u201cWell,\u201d he hesitated. \u201cI don\u2019t know. It seems like meddling to me\u2014prying\ninto something that doesn\u2019t concern us.\u201d\n\u201cWait a moment, Dick. Is it really meddling? For the sake of argument,\nsuppose that box contained Dewberry\u2019s poke and money. We already have a\nsuspicion that such may be the case. Why wouldn\u2019t we be justified in\nfollowing him, when he leaves his room, and attempt to find where he\nhides the box?\u201d\n\u201cBut surely you wouldn\u2019t open it?\u201d\n\u201cWhy not? I don\u2019t think I would have any scruples about that. Remember\nyou are dealing with a crook.\u201d\n\u201cAre we?\u201d argued Dick. \u201cWhat makes you so sure? We have proved nothing\nagainst him. Neither has Corporal Rand. He may be entirely innocent.\u201d\nSandy lifted his shoulders in a gesture of impatience.\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid you\u2019d make a poor detective. You\u2019re too honest, too\ncautious.\u201d He paused, looked up and grinned. \u201cCan you picture a\ncase-hardened police officer or the average sleuth passing up such an\nopportunity? Candidly now?\u201d\nDick was forced to admit that his chum was right. \u201cI\u2019ll grant you,\u201d he\nsmiled, \u201cthat no one, working on a case like this, ought to have trouble\nwith his conscience.\u201d\n\u201cNo, he shouldn\u2019t. As long as we are in the business, we might as well\nconduct ourselves like real detectives.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, you can have your way this time. We\u2019ll follow Frischette.\nWe\u2019ll even pry open the box if you say so.\u201d\nA shadow flickered across Sandy\u2019s forehead.\n\u201cBut supposing the box is locked. There\u2019s a possibility that hadn\u2019t\noccurred to me. We\u2019d be in a difficult position, wouldn\u2019t we, if we\nbroke it open and found that there was nothing there to incriminate him?\nFrischette would see that the box had been tampered with. He\u2019d guess\nthat one of us, you, Toma or I, had opened it, or possibly he might\nsuspect Fontaine or Le Sueur.\u201d\n\u201cIf the box is locked,\u201d reasoned Dick, \u201cthere is a key to open it.\u201d\n\u201cYes\u2014and he probably carries it around his neck. Fine chance we\u2019d have\ngetting it from him.\u201d\nTheir whispered conversation was interrupted at this juncture by the\ncreak of a door opening, and the sound of footsteps along the floor.\nStartled, the boys looked up, just as Frischette came into the room\nwhere they were, the box under his arm. He had come sooner than they had\nexpected. Again the boys noticed his strange behaviour. Some sudden\nimpulse induced Dick to accost him.\n\u201cMr. Frischette, may I trouble you for a moment.\u201d He attempted to\ncontrol the quaver in his voice. \u201cWe\u2014Sandy, Toma and I\u2014have been\nwondering about our bill. If you don\u2019t mind, we\u2019d like to pay you.\u201d\nFrischette\u2019s face recovered some of its former cheerfulness.\n\u201cAh, monsieurs, surely you are not to go so soon. Did you not tell me\nzat you stay here for three, four day yet. I will be ver\u2019 sorry ef you\ngo now.\u201d\n\u201cBut we have no intention of going now,\u201d Dick enlightened him. \u201cWe\nmerely wish to pay you in advance.\u201d\nThe Frenchman\u2019s dark face brightened. He watched Dick reach in his\npocket and pull forth a huge roll of bills. At sight of it, his eyes\ngleamed and sparkled with envy.\n\u201cIf you weesh, monsieur. But et ees not necessary. Ze amount ees twenty\ndollars for ze three of you.\u201d\nDick fondled the heavy roll, slowly peeling off the required amount. He\nwas watching the roadhouse keeper and noticed with satisfaction the\neffect the money had upon him. To his surprise, Frischette said:\n\u201cEes not monsieur leetle careless to carry roun\u2019 so ver\u2019 much money? Are\nyou not afraid zat thief will take et or else you lose et from your\npocket?\u201d\nDick pooh-poohed the idea, laughed, and with a sly look at Sandy, thrust\nthe roll carelessly in the inside pocket of his coat. Frischette\nfollowed every move. His eyes seemed to burn into Dick\u2019s pockets. A look\nof greed so transformed his features that for a time Dick could scarcely\nbelieve that this was the genial, obliging host of the previous\nafternoon.\nWhen he had received the twenty dollars, Frischette had found it\nnecessary to put down the square box, containing his treasure. He had\nplaced it on the table at his elbow with his right arm flung out across\nit. Not once did he move from this position. While Dick was carrying out\nhis part of the prearranged plan, Sandy also was busy. He moved to the\nopposite side of the table, in order to get a better view of the box.\nWhat he wanted to find out was whether or not it was locked.\nNot until Frischette was in the act of picking up the box, preparing to\ngo, was Sandy able to determine about the lock. A key would not be\nnecessary. The small but formidable-looking chest could easily be\nopened. Sandy smiled to himself.\nAll that remained to be done now, he reasoned, was to follow Frischette\nand learn where he kept his treasure. Then, when the opportunity arose,\nthey would ransack the box. It would not take long to solve the mystery\nsurrounding Dewberry\u2019s priceless poke.\nTo follow a man through Arctic twilight, to slink from tree to tree and\ncover to cover, to keep hid always and make very little sound\u2014is not an\neasy accomplishment. At least, the three boys found that it was not.\nThey stole stealthily along about fifty yards behind Frischette,\nattempting to keep within that distance, neither advancing too quickly\nnor too slowly.\nThe wood they had entered was exceedingly dense, in places almost\nimpassable. Underbrush grew so thick that it choked out even the grass.\nSo thick indeed was the undergrowth, through which Frischette hurried,\nthat it was utterly impossible always to keep within sight of him. Now\nand again they would see his hurrying form, only to lose it a moment\nlater. Sometimes the crackling of the underbrush would reveal his\nwhereabouts. At other times the boys would be in doubt as to where he\nwas, and would come to the conclusion that perhaps they had lost him.\nThen they would hesitate about pressing on for fear that they might walk\nboldly out in plain view of him.\nYet always they contrived to pick up his trail, either by finding his\nfootprints or by hearing some slight sound ahead. As they continued\ntheir pursuit, their astonishment grew. Why did the Frenchman seek out a\nhiding place so far from the house? Had his greed completely unseated\nhis mind? Already, Dick estimated, they had come at least two miles, and\nyet Frischette showed no sign of stopping. He was walking at a furious\npace now, his nimble legs darting along over the uncarpeted forest path.\nHe hugged his treasure-box to him and fairly plunged through thicket and\nacross the open spaces, occasionally muttering to himself.\nTo the boys\u2019 amazement, the chase ended abruptly. They had come out to a\nsmall clearing in which stood a cabin. Frischette\u2019s fingers stole to his\nlips and a peculiarly soft, bird-like whistle sounded through the\nforest. Then the Frenchman remained standing where he was until the door\nopened and a slouching figure emerged.\nAt sight of the occupant of the cabin, the boys gasped in wonder. Never\nbefore had they seen so unusual a person. He was bent and old, and\nhobbled as he walked, in one hand a cane to guide him. His head was\nhatless, covered with a thick, straggling crop of hair, some of which\nfluttered into his face and over his shoulders. His beard was long and\nheavy\u2014of a peculiar reddish tinge, streaked with gray.\nHe approached Frischette, pausing a few feet from him, and looked up at\nhis visitor with eyes that peeped out from the shadowed depressions\nbetween his beard and eyebrows like two black beads. The Frenchman was\nthe first to speak:\n\u201cI bring back ze box again, M\u2019sieur Creel. You will take et an\u2019 watch\nover et. You are a faithful guardian, my friend. I weesh to compliment\nyou. Ever\u2019zing ees here: ze money, ze treasure\u2014ever\u2019zing.\u201d\nThe stranger spoke in a voice so low that, from their hiding place, the\nboys could make out but a few words. Frischette spoke again:\n\u201cEt ees tonight.\u201d\nThe old man shook his head vigorously, gesturing with his hands. The\nFrenchman raised his voice: \u201cEt ees tonight, I tell you. You will do as\nI say.\u201d\nThis time they heard the protest:\n\u201cNo, no; I cannot come. Tonight I have other work. I cannot be there. I\nrefuse to do as you wish, Frischette, even for the sake of gain.\u201d\nThe Frenchman\u2019s face grew suddenly crimson with fury. He stooped and\npicked up a club, advancing threateningly.\n\u201cI see \u2019bout that,\u201d he fairly shouted. \u201cI see \u2019bout that pretty queek.\nYou try fail me, m\u2019sieur, I make you sorry.\u201d\nThe other did not blink. He faced his antagonist calmly, scornfully,\npresently breaking into an amused chuckle.\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t hurt a fly. You are a coward, Frischette. I, an old man,\nhave far more courage than you.\u201d\nThe road-house keeper\u2019s sudden flare of fury quickly burned out. He\ndropped his club and stepped back several paces, hugging his treasure to\nhim. Before the unwavering gaze of the old man he was helpless, and\npossibly a little afraid. He glanced about sullenly.\n\u201cAll right, et ees your own broth you brew, monsieur. I shall keep ze\nbox. Et ees all mine. Do you hear? Et ees mine.\u201d\n\u201cFaugh! A bluff! You wouldn\u2019t dare. I ask you to try it.\u201d\nThe Frenchman clutched the box still more tightly.\n\u201cEt ees mine,\u201d he persisted stubbornly.\n\u201cYou try it,\u201d warned the other.\n\u201cNo more will I come to you,\u201d Frischette informed him. \u201cWe are through.\nI shall keep ze box.\u201d\n\u201cFool!\u201d cried the other in vexation, beginning to relent \u201cI suppose that\nI must humor you always. Very well, it shall be as you say. I give you\nmy promise. But it will cost you a pretty penny this time.\u201d\nSuddenly they began to barter.\n\u201cHalf,\u201d said the Frenchman.\n\u201cTwo-thirds,\u201d insisted the man with the beard.\nFrischette gave vent to a shriek of anguish.\n\u201cTwo-thirds,\u201d he howled. \u201cWhat? Are you crazy? I will not leesen to zat.\nEt ees outrageous, m\u2019sieur.\u201d\nSandy poked Dick cautiously in the ribs.\n\u201cBoth mad!\u201d he announced. \u201cCan you make anything out of that gibberish?\nWhat are they talking about?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll confess,\u201d Dick whispered, \u201cthat I\u2019m at a loss to know.\u201d\nIn the end, the two conspirators came to an agreement\n\u201cOne-half it shall be,\u201d they heard the old man mutter.\nHaving won his point, Frischette beamed. He thrust the box into the\nother\u2019s hands.\n\u201cTake et, m\u2019sieur. I am sorry ef I speak cross. We must be friends. We\nmust understand each other. En a ver\u2019 few weeks we go to Edmonton an\u2019 we\nshall be rich, m\u2019sieur.\u201d\nCreel grumbled something through his beard, seized the box with eager\nhands and half-turned as if to depart.\n\u201cTonight then?\u201d\n\u201cYes, tonight.\u201d\nThe boys scrambled back quickly, for Frischette was beginning his\njourney homeward. A moment later, from the deep shadow of a heavy\nthicket, they watched him pass. He was shaking his head and talking to\nhimself in a complaining undertone. Not long afterward he had\ndisappeared in the tangle of greenery, and over the woodland there\nsettled a deep and impressive silence. Dick looked at Sandy and Toma and\nsmiled.\n\u201cThe farther we go into this thing, the stranger and more perplexing it\nbecomes. I wonder who that man is? In what way is he associated with\nFrischette? Why is he guarding the box? Now what do you suppose they\nwere arguing about?\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t imagine,\u201d answered Sandy. \u201cWhat do you think, Toma?\u201d\nThe Indian youth rose and broke off a twig from a branch above his head.\n\u201cI think him bad fellow just like Frischette.\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d agreed Sandy, \u201cprobably his accomplice.\u201d\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t look as if we would open that box now,\u201d grimaced Dick.\n\u201cNot unless we overpower the old man.\u201d\nDick too arose, glancing back at the cabin.\n\u201cI\u2019d like to think it over before we attempt it. Possibly some plan may\noccur to us tomorrow. At present we\u2019d better go back to the road-house\nbefore Frischette becomes suspicious. I wouldn\u2019t be in the least\nsurprised if he attempts to relieve me of that roll tonight.\u201d\n\u201cI can agree with you there,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cDid you notice his eyes when\nyou pulled it from your pocket?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d Dick smiled at the memory.\nThey started back along the trail, for a time walking in silence.\nPresently, however, Sandy turned toward Dick, his face thoughtful.\n\u201cSupposing,\u201d he inquired, \u201cthat Frischette really does attempt the\nrobbery tonight. What will we do? Let him have the money? Or do you want\nto catch him in the act?\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll let him have it.\u201d\n\u201cBut there\u2019s nearly sixty dollars of our money. I\u2019m not so rich that\u2014\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll get it back somehow, Sandy,\u201d Dick interrupted. \u201cThe police will\nsee to that. I\u2019ve marked the bills so that we can identify them.\u201d\n\u201cGood!\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019d better remain awake, all of us,\u201d continued Dick. \u201cI\u2019ll take the\nlower bunk in the corner near the door. You can sleep in the upper one.\nToma can occupy the lower bunk next to mine. Just before we retire,\nwhile Frischette is still in the room, I\u2019ll remove my coat and throw it\nover the back of a chair.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll all keep perfectly still,\u201d said Sandy, \u201cwhen he enters the room.\nRemember, Toma, that you are not to make any effort to stop him.\u201d\nThe young Indian nodded:\n\u201cYes, I understand. Me do nothing.\u201d\nLater, when they had retired for the night, they were in an excited\nframe of mind. Had they been ever so tired, it is doubtful whether they\nwould have been able to relax for sleep. Dick lay, facing the doorway,\nso that he could command a view of the entire room. Frischette\u2019s\nsleeping apartment, almost directly opposite, opened on to the large\nbunk-hall they occupied. If the Frenchman planned to take the roll, it\nwould be necessary for him to pass through the doorway, directly across\nfrom Dick, and steal stealthily along the row of bunks to the chair,\nover which Dick had carelessly flung his coat.\nThe bunk-hall was shrouded in a partial darkness. Outside the night was\nclear, and a half-moon rode through a sky sprinkled with stars. To the\nears of the boys, as they lay quietly awaiting the Frenchman\u2019s coming,\nthere floated through the open windows the droning sounds of the forest.\nAn owl hooted from some leafy canopy. The weird, mournful cries of a\nnight-bird, skimming along the tree tops, could be heard distinctly. The\ncurtain, draping the window on the west side of the room, fluttered\nsoftly as it caught the rippling, nocturnal breeze.\nAs time passed, Dick became conscious of an increasing nervous tension\nand restlessness. He found it difficult to lay still. He turned from\nside to side. The strain upon his eyes from watching the door so\ncontinuously had caused a blur to appear before them, and only with\ndifficulty could he make out the various objects in the room. Time and\ntime again, he imagined he could hear a slight sound coming from\nFrischette\u2019s apartment. Yet, as he lay there and the door did not open,\nhe realized that he must have been mistaken.\nAt length he decided that the road-house keeper would make no effort to\ncome that night. Reasoning thus, he lay very still, his eyes closed,\ndrowsiness stealing over him. Through his mind there flashed confused\npictures of the day\u2019s happenings. In imagination, he was threading a\nwoodland path, following the fleeing form of a man, who clutched to him\na mysterious wooden box. Again he saw the angry, distorted face of\nFrischette, who was standing there, one arm raised threateningly above\nthe stooped form and uncovered head of Creel\u2014the queer old recluse.\nTossing restlessly, his eyes came back to the door, and suddenly his\nnerves grew taut. The door, he perceived, was now slightly ajar. It was\nopening slowly. A few inches at a time it swung back, and at length a\nmuffled form stood framed in the doorway, then moved noiselessly nearer.\nUnerringly, it padded across the floor, straight towards Dick\u2019s bunk. It\npaused near the chair, scarcely four feet from where Dick lay.\nWith difficulty, Dick suppressed a cry. The skulking, shadowy form was\nnot that of Frischette\u2014but Creel! Creel, a horrible, repellent figure in\nthe half-darkness. Long, straggling locks of hair fell over his eyes,\nwhile the heavy beard formed a mask for his repulsive face. Dick could\nalmost imagine that he could see Creel\u2019s deep-set eyes shining from\ntheir sockets. They were like those of a cat.\nPreviously it had been agreed between the three boys that in the event\nof Frischette entering the room and attempting to steal the money, no\neffort would be made to prevent him. Now Creel, and not Frischette, was\nabout to commit the crime. For some unknown reason Dick felt that he\ncould not lay there inactive. Resentment and anger suddenly burned\nwithin him. As Creel cautiously lifted up his coat, Dick found himself\nsitting bolt upright, and, to his amazement, heard himself shout out:\n\u201cDrop that coat if you don\u2019t wish to get in trouble. Drop it, I say!\u201d\nCreel started so quickly, dropped the coat so suddenly, that the chair\noverturned and crashed to the floor. There came the sound of moccasined\nfeet pattering away! Dick had sprung from his bunk, as had also Sandy\nand Toma. For a time confusion and excitement reigned. Frischette\nappeared in the doorway, and upon his heels came Fontaine and Le Sueur,\nrubbing their eyes.\n\u201cWhat ees ze matter?\u201d Frischette inquired in a frightened voice. \u201cWhat\nhas happen?\u201d\n\u201cSomeone came in here a moment ago,\u201d cried Dick angrily, \u201cand tried to\nsteal my money. I tell you, Frischette, the thief is in this house!\u201d\nNot until the following morning did the boys have a chance to discuss\nthe happenings of the previous night. Over the breakfast table, Dick was\nthe cynosure of two hostile pair of eyes\u2014those of Sandy and Toma. It was\nquite evident that Dick\u2019s chums were not satisfied with the outcome of\nthe night\u2019s adventures. Sandy, in particular, could scarcely contain\nhimself. He kept glowering at his friend over his coffee and bacon, and\nDick could see that a lecture was forthcoming. However, Sandy did not\nget his chance until nearly an hour later, when the three boys left the\ndining room for a turn in the open air. Scarcely were they outside, when\nSandy broke forth petulantly:\n\u201cLook here, Dick, I must say that you followed out our agreement to the\nletter. What did you mean by crying out like that, after it had been\ndecided to let Frischette walk away with the money?\u201d\n\u201cBut it wasn\u2019t Frischette,\u201d Dick defended himself.\n\u201cWasn\u2019t Frischette. What do you mean? Of course, it was Frischette. I\nsaw him with my own eyes.\u201d\n\u201cIt was Creel.\u201d\n\u201cCreel!\u201d\n\u201cYes, that fellow who took the box from the Frenchman yesterday.\u201d\nSandy whistled softly.\n\u201cSo that\u2019s their game. Creel is Frischette\u2019s confederate. I can see it\nall now.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s the way I have it all figured out too. Frischette is the man who\nplans all the robberies and Creel is the one who executes them.\u201d\nDick paused and leaned against the trunk of a huge jack-pine,\ncontemplatively regarding his two chums.\n\u201cIt means we have two persons instead of one to deal with. The\ntreasure-box they keep between them. Each probably has an equal interest\nin it. I wish there was some way we could get hold of it.\u201d\n\u201cMebbe that not be so very hard,\u201d Toma suddenly interjected. \u201cOne night\nwe go over to Creel\u2019s cabin an\u2019 find it sure. I think I know how we get\nit without much trouble.\u201d\n\u201cHow?\u201d demanded Sandy.\n\u201cYou remember yesterday when Frischette come close to Creel\u2019s cabin he\nstop in the brush an\u2019 make \u2019em noise for him to come out. Well, one of\nus do same like that while other two hide close to cabin. When Creel\ncome out, thinking it Frischette, good chance go get box. What you say?\u201d\n\u201cA good plan, certainly,\u201d criticised Dick, \u201conly how are we going to\nimitate that peculiar, mysterious whistle. I\u2019m sure I couldn\u2019t.\u201d\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t either,\u201d declared Sandy.\nToma put two fingers to his mouth and blew softly. It was an excellent\nimitation of the sound the boys had heard on the previous day, and both\nDick and Sandy clapped their hands in delight.\n\u201cYou\u2019re good!\u201d Sandy exclaimed. \u201cI\u2019m proud of you. How can you manage to\ndo it, after hearing it only once?\u201d\n\u201cI hear it many times,\u201d flushed the young Indian. \u201cYou see, there is\nbird that hide deep in the woods that make \u2019em call like that.\nFrischette, jus\u2019 like me, try make sound like that bird.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll go tonight,\u201d exulted Dick.\nThe other two nodded in agreement.\n\u201cTen o\u2019clock will be a good time,\u201d Sandy suggested. \u201cDick and I will\nenter the cabin, while you, Toma, practice your wiles upon the thieving\nMr. Creel. Lead him away from the cabin as far as you can, so that we\u2019ll\nhave plenty of time to look around. We may have some trouble in finding\nthe place where he has hid the box.\u201d\nThe boys had worked themselves up to a high pitch of excitement long\nbefore the time appointed for setting out on their night\u2019s adventure. In\norder not to arouse Frischette\u2019s suspicions, should he discover their\nabsence, they had informed him that they were planning to go over to\nLake Grassy Point, a distance of about eight miles, and visit the Indian\nencampment there. Fontaine and Le Sueur, they explained, would accompany\nthem too, and he, Frischette, must not worry if they were late in\ngetting back.\nTo their surprise, the arrangement met with the Frenchman\u2019s immediate\napproval.\n\u201cEt ees good you go,\u201d he told them. \u201cYou young fellow get ver\u2019 tired\nstay one place all ze time.\u201d Then he sighed regretfully. \u201cVer\u2019 often I\nweesh I might be young too. Always go, always have good time. Et ees ze\ngreat fun, monsieurs.\u201d\nDick\u2019s brow contracted thoughtfully. Did Frischette contemplate a visit\nto Creel himself? Had the Frenchman a plan of his own?\n\u201cJust our luck,\u201d Dick told Sandy a few minutes later, \u201cif the old rascal\ndecides to visit Creel tonight. We\u2019ve gone to a lot of trouble already.\u201d\nThe young Scotchman slapped irritably at a mosquito that had lit upon\nhis arm.\n\u201cYes, it was necessary to take Fontaine and Le Sueur more or less into\nour confidence. That\u2019s one phase of the thing I don\u2019t like. Those two\nfriends of Toma\u2019s know we\u2019re up to something. All I hope is, that\nthey\u2019ll have sense enough to keep their mouths shut. If Frischette ever\ngets an inkling that we\u2019re watching him, the game\u2019s up.\u201d\n\u201cBut Fontaine and Le Sueur haven\u2019t the least idea what we purpose to\ndo,\u201d said Dick. \u201cNeither one of them knows that we\u2019re spying upon\nFrischette.\u201d\n\u201cYes, but they\u2019ll think it\u2019s queer that we\u2019re deceiving him. They\u2019ll\nwonder why we have lied to him, want them to go to the encampment while\nwe remain behind.\u201d\n\u201cYou don\u2019t need to worry about that, Sandy. You may depend upon it that\nToma has made our proposed actions seem very plausible.\u201d\nSandy grinned.\n\u201cToma probably has told them a wonderful story. I\u2019ll agree with you\nthere. He certainly possesses a keen imagination.\u201d\nDick consulted his watch.\n\u201cIt\u2019s twenty minutes past nine now. I think, Sandy, we\u2019d better go back\nto the house and find Toma and the others. It\u2019ll be time to start before\nlong.\u201d\nThey hurried along the path, and a few minutes later entered the house,\nwhere they were joined by Toma and his two friends. Soon afterward,\nFrischette strode into the room, carrying his coat and hat.\n\u201cI go with you a leetle way,\u201d he announced. \u201cAll day long I work in ze\nkitchen, where et ees hot. I think ze night air mebbe make me feel\ngood.\u201d\nDick glanced sharply across at Sandy, keen disappointment depicted in\nhis gaze. The Frenchman\u2019s announcement had taken him completely by\nsurprise. The situation was awkward.\n\u201cWhy not come all the way to the encampment with us,\u201d invited Dick.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll be glad to have you.\u201d\nFrischette threw up his hands in a gesture of dismay.\n\u201cAll zat way! Empossible! Et ees too far, monsieur. I am too tired.\nEight miles there an\u2019 back an\u2019 ze brush tangle in my poor tired legs.\nNo, I will go only a ver\u2019 short way.\u201d\nSo Frischette, much to the boys\u2019 disappointment, accompanied them. He\nchatted as they walked, continually gesturing, often stopping abruptly\nin his tracks to point out some inconsequential object.\nNever before had Dick been given so excellent an opportunity to study\nthe man. He was slightly amused at the Frenchman\u2019s queer antics. He\nwould become intensely enthusiastic over the merest trifles\u2014a bright\nflower, a sparkling stone, a gnarled, misshapen tree.\nA person of moods and impulses, Dick decided, watching him. Sometimes he\nwondered if Frischette were not assuming a certain behavior for their\nspecial benefit. What was his real purpose in coming with them?\nCertainly it was not because he really wanted the exercise and fresh\nair. More likely, he intended to go over to visit Creel.\nTheir course to Grassy Point Lake led them in the general direction of\nCreel\u2019s cabin. When the Frenchman bade them adieu and turned back, Dick\nestimated that they had still about two miles farther to go before they\nwould be directly opposite the abiding place of the mysterious recluse.\nRealizing this, his previous conviction that Frischette was really going\nthere became shaken. Perhaps, after all, the road-house keeper had told\nthe truth, was actually going back as he said.\nEven if the man planned to strike off obliquely through the woods to\nCreel\u2019s, hope of obtaining possession of the box was not altogether\nlost. They might still turn the trick that same night, if only they\nhurried. By running part of the way, they would arrive at the cabin\nsufficiently in advance of Frischette to achieve their purpose. With\nthis thought in mind, Dick, after waving a friendly farewell to the\nunsuspecting Frenchman, led the party forward quickly until a turn in\nthe trail obscured their movements. Then, breaking into a run, he darted\nalong the shadowy forest path, motioning the others to follow.\nTen minutes later, the three boys drew away from Fontaine and Le Sueur,\nstriking off at right angle with the dim trail to Grassy Point Lake, and\ncontinued their hurried course straight in the direction of the lonely\ncabin. As they proceeded on their way, excitement, caused by the thought\nof their coming adventure, grew upon them. They were shaky and nervous\nwhen they finally drew up in front of a thick screen of underbrush, less\nthan sixty yards from the house. Dick motioned to Toma.\n\u201cHurry around toward the front of the cabin,\u201d he whispered tersely, \u201cand\ngive your bird-call.\u201d\n\u201cSure you all ready?\u201d inquired the young Indian.\n\u201cYes, all ready.\u201d\n\u201cI go then.\u201d\nWithout further word, Toma slunk forward, skirted the line of underbrush\nand presently disappeared from view.\nDick and Sandy waited breathlessly. Thus far, no sound had come to them.\nThe forest was pervaded by a silence so deep and oppressive that the two\nboys, waiting for Toma\u2019s mysterious call, could hear the thumping of\ntheir own hearts. They had crept forward through the dense thicket to a\npoint where, though still concealed themselves, they could see the cabin\nplainly. In the sombre northern twilight its every detail stood clearly\nrevealed\u2014the low, grass-grown sod roof, the tiny window and the crude,\nrough door.\nThe boys found it difficult to restrain their gathering impatience. What\nwas Toma doing? Chafing over the delay, they crouched low, their gaze\nsweeping the tiny clearing ahead. On Dick\u2019s forehead beads of\nperspiration gathered slowly, while the palms of his hands were moist\nand warm.\n\u201cCan\u2019t imagine what\u2019s happened to him,\u201d Sandy croaked in Dick\u2019s ear.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s he waiting for? What\u2019s got into him, anyway? First thing we\nknow, Frischette\u2019ll be here\u2014and it\u2019ll be too late.\u201d\nDick did not reply. Just then he thought he had heard a slight sound in\nthe brush, directly in front of the house. Excitedly, he reached forward\nand seized Sandy\u2019s right arm.\n\u201cSsh!\u201d he whispered. \u201cKeep still. Just look over there.\u201d\nFollowing his friend\u2019s instructions, Sandy looked and immediately his\nmouth gaped open, and he emitted a startled gasp.\nTwo men plunged out into the open\u2014rough, desperate, evil-looking men,\nwho made their way stealthily forward. Each carried a knife and revolver\nat his belt. One was tall and sinewy, the other short and thin. The tall\nman proceeded ahead with long awkward strides, while the little man at\nhis side pranced along, like a small boy attempting to keep pace with\nhis elder.\nOf the two, the face of the smaller man was, if such a thing were\npossible, more sinister, malevolent and wicked than that of the other.\nHis features were twisted in an expression that was both horrible and\nrepellent. It was as if he had been overcome by some violent emotion:\nrage that hungered for revenge, or cruelty inflamed by avarice. In all\ntheir experience, the boys had never encountered a more terrifying pair.\nThe very sight of them caused Dick and Sandy to shiver and draw back in\na sudden panic.\n\u201cHo-hope they don\u2019t come this way,\u201d shuddered Sandy.\n\u201cToma saw them before we did,\u201d whispered Dick. \u201cThat\u2019s why he didn\u2019t\nattempt that call. Who do you suppose they are?\u201d\nIn terror, Sandy shook his head.\n\u201cKeep down,\u201d he trembled, \u201cor they may see us.\u201d\nDick grew suddenly tense. The two men had reached the door of the cabin,\nand for a brief moment stood undecided. Then the tall man raised a\ngnarled hand and struck the door so violently and unexpectedly that\nSandy and Dick both jumped back, as if they, instead of the rough pine\nbarrier, had received the full impact of that mighty blow.\nThe echo had scarcely subsided, when the tall man struck again.\n\u201cOpen up! Open up!\u201d he thundered. \u201cCreel, open up this yere door.\u201d\nThe door swung back on its rusty hinges, and then the boys saw Creel\nframed in the aperture. But it was a different Creel than the man they\nhad seen previously. He looked much older. The stoop to his shoulders\nwas more noticeable. A pathetic figure now, a terror-struck human\nderelict. At the very best he could offer but feeble resistance to these\ntwo terrible fellows, who had come storming and raging upon him.\n\u201cGuess yuh know what we\u2019ve come fer, Creel,\u201d the little man snarled.\n\u201cYuh can guess, can\u2019t yuh? Quick now, an\u2019 bring it out. We\u2019re in a\nhurry, I tell yuh. Quick!\u201d\nCreel made the fatal mistake of pretending he did not know what the\nother was talking about. He raised a trembling hand.\n\u201cIf you\u2019ll explain a little more clearly, gentlemen, what you want\nI\u2019ll\u2014\u201d\nThe sentence was not completed. The tall man reached out with one arm\nand caught Creel about the neck. Scarcely seeming to exert himself, he\nlifted him completely off his feet, holding him dangling\u2014head pressed\nback against the frame of the door. For a brief moment the body of the\nrecluse remained pinioned there, then was suddenly released and fell\nwith a muffled thud across the threshold.\nDick and Sandy, who had been silent witnesses of the drama unrolling\nbefore their eyes, caught their breath in anger. Much as they despised\nand feared Creel, the unwarranted brutality of the tall man caused them\nto experience a feeling of sympathy for the helpless old recluse. Dick\u2019s\nhand flashed to the revolver at his belt, and he had half-started to his\nfeet, when Sandy drew him back.\n\u201cDon\u2019t be foolish, Dick,\u201d he trembled. \u201cKeep out of this. We can\naccomplish more by remaining right here where we are. Look!\u201d\nCreel had stumbled dazedly to his feet, gripping the door for support.\n\u201cNow,\u201d declared the little man grimly, \u201cI guess yuh understand. Bring it\nout.\u201d\nCreel staggered inside and appeared, a short time later, carrying the\nbox. Both men made a grab for it, but the smaller was the quicker of the\ntwo. He flung open the lid of the small treasure-chest and both he and\nhis companion pawed through it excitedly, their faces distorted with\ngreed.\nDick and Sandy, who were watching events with wide-open eyes, were\nwholly unprepared for the next step in the little drama. In a sudden\nfury of disappointment, the little man raised the box and sent it\ncrashing to the floor. His expression was awful to behold, his eyes like\ntwo bright coals of fire. Nor did his companion contain himself much\nbetter. With an oath, he spurned the box at his feet, sending it flying\nwithin the room. His cheeks were livid.\n\u201cIt ain\u2019t here, Emery!\u201d he almost screamed. \u201cIt ain\u2019t here! That squaw\nlied to us. We\u2019re done for. MacGregor got it after all!\u201d\nBut the other was not so easily discouraged.\n\u201cIt is here!\u201d he fairly howled in his rage.\nWith a lightning motion, he turned upon Creel, advancing with\noutstretched hands\u2014hands that looked like the talons of some huge bird;\nhands that worked convulsively as they floated toward Creel\u2019s throat.\nBefore the little man\u2019s advance, the old recluse tottered back, throwing\nup his arms in a defensive gesture.\n\u201cI\u2019ll give yuh jus\u2019 two minutes tuh bring out that poke,\u201d the words came\nscreaming at him. \u201cYuh got it. I know yuh got it. If yuh don\u2019t want to\nmake food fer the crows, yuh better trot it out.\u201d\n\u201cGentlemen\u2014\u201d began Creel, his voice deathly calm.\nThe little man\u2019s right hand flashed out and for the second time Creel\nmeasured his length across the threshold. This time, however, he did not\nrise. In falling, his head had struck the sharp edge of the doorway,\nrendering him unconscious. Without even as much as a glance at him, the\ntwo men stepped over his prostrate body and disappeared into the room.\nFor a space of nearly five minutes they remained inside, while Dick and\nSandy sat in a sort of stupor and blankly regarded each other.\nThen abruptly, Creel\u2019s assailants re-appeared and from their expression\nand behavior, the boys realized instantly that the search had been\nsuccessful. The big man guffawed loudly as he pushed Creel\u2019s body to one\nside with his foot and stepped out into the pale light of that Arctic\nsummer night.\n\u201cWe got it,\u201d gloated the little man. \u201cThat was a stroke o\u2019 luck,\npardner. The squaw was right. We got it!\u201d\nAs he spoke, he drew from his pocket a small object and fondled it in\nhis hands. Again the loud guffaw rang out, penetrating the silence.\nChattering and exulting, the pair made their way through the lush grass\nthat overran the clearing. Then, suddenly, they stopped. At the edge of\nthe clearing there had sprung up a frail but defiant figure.\n\u201cStop!\u201d cried a voice. \u201cPut \u2019em hands up or I shoot you quick.\u201d\nCreel\u2019s assailants, looking straight at the muzzle of Toma\u2019s revolver,\nhad no other alternative. Their hands went high. Dick thought the pair\nlooked very foolish standing there. And he could hear very plainly their\nastonished, burning oaths. He and Sandy leaped to their feet and hurried\nto Toma\u2019s assistance. They came up from behind and, with a nod to their\nchum, quickly disarmed the murderous pair. But though they searched\neverywhere, they could not find the poke. Dick paused in consternation.\n\u201cBig fellow got it in his hand,\u201d said Toma.\n\u201cGive it to me,\u201d Dick turned upon the outlaw.\nThe big man\u2019s eyes gleamed with hatred, but with Toma\u2019s revolver\nthreatening him, he was forced to obey.\n\u201cTake it,\u201d he growled out an oath. \u201cBut I bet yuh don\u2019t keep it long,\nstranger. Yuh won\u2019t never get away with it. Jus\u2019 mark my words.\u201d\nDick stepped back, laughing.\n\u201cThat remains to be seen,\u201d he answered the outlaw. \u201cYou fellows can go\nnow. If you know what\u2019s good for you, you\u2019ll leave this neighborhood as\nquickly as you can. I have the description of both of you and will\nnotify the mounted police of this night\u2019s affair.\u201d\nThe partners struck off through the underbrush, calling out their\ntaunts. It was not long before silence came again. The three boys stood\nin a little circle, looking at each other. Now that the tension had\nrelaxed, they were all more or less bewildered. Dick still had the small\npoke in his hand, and as yet had scarcely deigned to give it a second\nglance. Suddenly, Sandy\u2019s voice rang out:\n\u201cWell, if you ask me, this is a peculiar night\u2019s business. I\u2019m almost\nstunned. We\u2019re indebted to Toma for the way everything has turned out.\nLet\u2019s see what\u2019s in that poke, Dick. Why don\u2019t you open it?\u201d\nDick looked down at the small object in his hand. He turned it over and\nover thoughtfully.\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said, \u201cyou can open it, Sandy. I\u2019m too shaky.\u201d\nWith the poke held firmly between two fingers, he reached out to hand it\nto his chum. But in that moment a strange thing happened. A crackling of\nbrush, a lightning leap forward, a snarl like that of a beast\u2014and the\nthing was whisked from his fingers as it dangled there in the air. Then\na figure darted past them and disappeared in the darkness of the forest\nbeyond.\nThe three chums gaped at each other.\n\u201cWho was that?\u201d gasped Dick.\nToma was the first to speak.\n\u201cI see \u2019em,\u201d he spoke dolefully. \u201cIt was Frischette.\u201d\n                       CORPORAL RAND TAKES CHARGE\nSandy rubbed his eyes.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what to make of this. Frischette has the poke now. In a\nway I\u2019m glad that he has. It\u2019s better for us, Dick. I\u2019d hate to have\nanother encounter with those two prospectors. Wonder what Frischette\nwill say to us when we return to the road-house.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwe\u2019ve seen the last of him. He won\u2019t come\nback.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean he\u2019ll leave everything?\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s my opinion. I don\u2019t know what the poke contains but it must\nbe something of immense value. Just stop a moment to reason it all out,\nSandy. First of all, the poke belonged to Dewberry. MacGregor tried to\nget it, but was thwarted in his purpose either by Frischette or Creel.\nCreel had it in his possession until those two prospectors came along\nand took it away from him. Now it\u2019s in Frischette\u2019s hands again. If he\nreturns to the road-house, he\u2019ll be afraid that we\u2019ll get it away from\nhim. After what happened tonight, he\u2019ll take no chances. He\u2019ll not even\nconsider his partner, Creel. He has a fortune in his hands and will\nattempt to keep it.\u201d\n\u201cWhat\u2019s to be done now?\u201d asked Sandy. \u201cDo you think we ought to set out\nin pursuit of Frischette?\u201d\nFor a time Dick stood undecided.\n\u201cNo,\u201d he answered, \u201cwe haven\u2019t time. Tomorrow Corporal Rand will return\nto Fort Good Faith. He has asked us to meet him there. We\u2019ll have to\nfollow his instructions: Go back tonight.\u201d\n\u201cBut what about Creel? We can\u2019t leave him here.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s right. Let me see,\u201d Dick scratched his head in perplexity.\n\u201cTell you what we do,\u201d Toma suddenly broke forth. \u201cOne of us stay here\nlook after Creel an\u2019 other two go back to Fort Good Faith. If you like,\nI stay here myself while you, Sandy, you, Dick, go on see Corporal Rand.\nAfter while I get Fontaine an\u2019 Le Sueur to help me. Soon they come back\nfrom Grassy Point Lake.\u201d\n\u201cYour plan is a good one,\u201d approved Dick. \u201cIt\u2019s the best thing to do. If\nSandy and I start at once\u2014go over to the road-house and get our\nhorses\u2014we can reach Fort Good Faith shortly before the corporal arrives.\nWhat do you think, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cWe ought to go, of course. The way things have turned out, we need\nsomeone to take charge and straighten out this tangle. Corporal Rand\nwill know what to do. I expect his first move will be to set out in\npursuit of Frischette. The sooner we get Rand back here the sooner he\u2019ll\nbe able to follow and overtake him. Yes, we\u2019d better start at once.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, we\u2019ll walk over and get the horses.\u201d\nToma gave a little start of dismay.\n\u201cI jus\u2019 happen think, Dick\u2014 By Gar\u2014 Make me feel like silly fool. What\nyou think I do?\u201d\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d Dick asked kindly.\n\u201cYesterday I turn ponies out to eat grass.\u201d\n\u201cHang the luck!\u201d exploded Sandy. \u201cThat means we\u2019ll have to walk. We\nmight have to look around all night before we find \u2019em.\u201d\n\u201cI very sorry,\u201d began Toma. \u201cI\u2014\u201d\nSandy cut him short.\n\u201cForget it! I don\u2019t blame you, Toma. It\u2019s just a bit of bad luck, that\u2019s\nall.\u201d\n\u201cAn\u2019 you don\u2019t feel mad at Toma?\u201d inquired that young man plaintively.\n\u201cCertainly not,\u201d Dick assured him. \u201cEither Sandy or I might have made\nthe same mistake. It\u2019s all right. We\u2019ll walk.\u201d\nWithout even returning to the cabin to determine the extent of Creel\u2019s\ninjuries, they shook hands with the young Indian and quickly departed.\nTheir hurried trek back to Fort Good Faith long remained in the boys\u2019\nmemory. Dick struck out with Sandy at his heels, and hour after hour\nthey pushed on without even a pause for rest.\nBoth were swaying on their feet from weariness as they entered the broad\nmeadow, surrounding the fort, and came finally to the well known trading\npost.\nFactor MacClaren looked up from his work as the two youths entered.\n\u201cWhy, hello,\u201d he exclaimed in surprise. Then: \u201cWhatever has happened to\nyou. You both look as if you\u2019d been stuck in a swamp somewhere for the\nlast day or two. I wish you could see yourselves.\u201d\nThe boys looked down at their mud-spattered garments. Sandy\u2019s eyes were\nbloodshot and his shoulders drooped. Dick\u2019s face was scratched with\nbrambles. He had lost his hat and his hair was rumpled and streaked with\ndirt. Each flopped into a chair and breathed a sigh of relief.\n\u201cWe made record time from Frischette\u2019s stopping-place,\u201d Sandy announced\nfinally.\nSandy\u2019s uncle laughed. \u201cI can well believe that from your appearance.\nHave you been travelling all night?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Dick, \u201call night. By the way, is Corporal Rand here?\u201d\nFactor MacClaren nodded.\n\u201cArrived last night. Got in sooner than he expected. He\u2019s waiting for\nyou. Went out to the stables just a few minutes ago.\u201d\n\u201cUncle Walter,\u201d Sandy requested wearily, \u201cI wonder if you\u2019ll be kind\nenough to notify him that we are here.\u201d He sprawled lower in his chair.\n\u201cI\u2019m so tired that I don\u2019t think I could walk out there. Also, while\nyou\u2019re at it, I wish you\u2019d tell Naida, the cook, to prepare a good\nbreakfast for two hungry men.\u201d\n\u201cMen!\u201d grinned the factor.\n\u201cYes, men. At least, we\u2019re doing men\u2019s work.\u201d\nChuckling to himself, Sandy\u2019s uncle departed upon his errand. Not long\nafterward Corporal Rand himself appeared in the doorway and came eagerly\ntoward them.\n\u201cWell! Well!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cSo you\u2019re back. What luck did you have?\u201d\n\u201cGreat!\u201d replied Dick, too weary to rise. \u201cIf you\u2019ll sit down for a\nmoment, corporal, we\u2019ll tell you everything.\u201d\nWhen Dick and Sandy had completed their narrative, Corporal Rand sat for\na long time in thought. His fingers drummed on the table.\n\u201cYou\u2019ve done much better than I expected,\u201d he complimented them. \u201cAnd to\nbe perfectly frank, I don\u2019t know what to think of it all. Those two men\nyou spoke of, who attacked Creel and secured the poke, I can\u2019t recall\nthat I\u2019ve ever seen them. However, your description tallies with that of\ntwo prospectors I met one time at Fort MacMurray. But that\u2019s hundreds of\nmiles from here. It hardly seems likely that it would be the same pair.\nBut that is neither here nor there. You boys have practically\nestablished Frischette\u2019s guilt. If he didn\u2019t actually take the poke from\nDewberry himself, he must have induced Creel to do it. Probably when I\nhave seen and talked with Creel I can force the truth from him.\u201d\n\u201cWill you place Creel under arrest?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cNot unless I can get him to confess. As yet we can prove nothing\nagainst him.\u201d\nNaida appeared at this juncture to announce that breakfast was ready,\nand Corporal Rand accompanied the two boys to the dining room. Dick and\nSandy applied themselves with such diligence to the feast before them,\nthat Rand refrained from asking any more questions just then. When the\nboys had pushed back their chairs, sighing contentedly, Rand took up the\nsubject anew.\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you came when you did. I\u2019m anxious to go out on the trail\nafter Frischette. Just now Frischette holds the key to the riddle. If we\ncan catch him, I think our troubles will be at an end.\u201d\nDick looked across at the policeman.\n\u201cYour suggestion, then, is to return immediately to the road-house?\u201d\n\u201cIf you boys are not too tired, I\u2019d like to start at once.\u201d\n\u201cNow that we\u2019ve had something to eat, I\u2019m ready to go,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cI\nfeel a lot different than I did when we arrived here a short time ago.\u201d\nWith one accord the three rose to their feet, and not long afterward\nsecured their horses and departed. Following a hard but uneventful ride,\nthey reached the scene of the events of the night previous. They met\nToma just outside the door of the road-house. He greeted them with a\ncheery smile, striding forward to shake hands with Corporal Rand.\n\u201cGlad you come so soon, corporal. I get \u2019em Creel over here last night.\nHim pretty near all right now.\u201d\n\u201cDid Frischette come back?\u201d asked Sandy.\nThe young Indian shook his head.\n\u201cHe no come. Creel no think he come either.\u201d\nThey found Creel a few moments later, sitting, with bandaged head, in a\nchair near an open window. At sight of the mounted policeman his eyes\ndilated perceptibly. Yet otherwise he showed little of the emotion and\nfear the boys had expected.\nBut if Rand had hoped to secure information of value from the old\nrecluse, he was disappointed. When questioned about the events of the\nnight before, his answers were evasive. He knew nothing about the poke.\nHe had seen no poke. The money-box, slightly battered, which Toma\nbrought forth as evidence, belonged to him, he admitted. Why the thieves\nhad not taken the box, Creel could not understand. It contained upward\nof five thousand dollars in currency.\n\u201cIf this box and money belongs to you,\u201d Rand demanded, \u201cwhat was\nFrischette doing with them? The boys say that Frischette had this box in\nhis possession here only two days ago. What was he doing with it?\u201d\nCreel met the policeman\u2019s eyes unflinchingly.\n\u201cThe boys must be mistaken,\u201d he wagged his head. \u201cThe box is mine. Until\nlast night no one has seen it. People call me a miser. Those men, who\ncame last night, were disappointed because they expected to find more.\u201d\nRand scowled. He saw the uselessness of further questioning. Though\nCreel might be aware of Frischette\u2019s treachery, it was evident that he\nhad no intention of attempting to obtain revenge upon him. To\nincriminate his confederate, would be to incriminate himself. Both would\ngo to jail. Creel was wise enough to see that.\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d said Rand grimly, \u201cyou\u2019ll have more to tell us when we bring\nyour friend, Frischette, back and obtain possession of that poke. You\ncould save yourself a lot of trouble by giving me a confession now.\u201d\n\u201cI have nothing to confess,\u201d Creel declared obdurately. \u201cI do not\nunderstand Frischette\u2019s disappearance. But even if you do find him and\nbring him back, you\u2019ll learn nothing of value. Frischette is my friend\nand I know that he is not Dewberry\u2019s murderer, that he is innocent of\nall wrong.\u201d\nThe policeman rose to his feet, walked over and looked down at the old\nrecluse.\n\u201cI didn\u2019t say that Frischette murdered Dewberry. I\u2019m convinced that\nMacGregor did that, just as much as I\u2019m convinced that either you or\nFrischette secured the money and poke that belonged to the murdered\nman.\u201d\nThus openly accused, Creel shrank back. His hands trembled. Yet, in a\nmoment, the weakness had passed. Again, unflinchingly, he met the gaze\nof the man opposite.\n\u201cYou are mistaken,\u201d he declared in a clear, steady voice. \u201cYou will find\nthat you are mistaken. Events will bear me out.\u201d\nRand suddenly drew back. Footsteps sounded outside. Voices, scarcely\ndistinguishable, floated to their ears. More scuffling of feet, and then\nthe door opened. Dick, Sandy and Toma darted to their feet, staring\nwildly at the two newcomers:\nCreel\u2019s assailants of the night before!\nFor a full minute no one spoke.\nIt was a question who was the more astonished\u2014the prospectors or the\nthree boys. Corporal Rand turned his head as the two men entered and\nregarded them steadily. Creel had half-started from his chair, then\nquickly sat down again, while a queer smile puckered the corners of his\nmouth. If Dick had expected that Creel\u2019s assailants of the previous\nnight would show fear at sight of the mounted policeman he was greatly\nmistaken. To his surprise the big man nodded in a friendly way toward\nthe corporal, then advanced to confer with him.\n\u201cThis sure is a piece of luck,\u201d he exclaimed, extending a grimed and\nhairy hand, which Rand totally ignored. \u201cI hadn\u2019t expected to find yuh\nhere. Most allers when yuh want a policeman, there ain\u2019t one within\nfifty miles.\u201d\nThis statement, apparently, did not wholly please Rand, for he scowled\nlightly, his sharp blue eyes full upon the other.\n\u201cWhat business have you with the police?\u201d he demanded.\n\u201cIt ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 that concerns us,\u201d the little man cut in, in his\nattempt to smile looking more repulsive and ferocious than ever. \u201cIt\u2019s\nlike this, constable\u2014\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m a corporal,\u201d interrupted Rand severely.\n\u201cA\u2019 right, corporal. As I jes\u2019 started out tuh say Burnnel an\u2019 me\u2014that\u2019s\nhim there. He\u2019s my pardner\u2014is a hoofin\u2019 it along on our way to Deer Lick\nSprings, when sudden like, in a little clearin\u2019 in the brush \u2019long side\nthe trail, we comes upon the body of a man.\u201d\nThe prospector paused, rubbing his chin with the sleeve of his coat.\n\u201cHe was dead, corporal,\u201d he went on, \u201c\u2014dead as a dead crow he was, sir,\na lyin\u2019 there all stiff an\u2019 cold with a bullet through his head.\n\u201cFer more \u2019n a minute Burnnel an\u2019 me we couldn\u2019t speak, we was that\nsurprised, corporal.\u201d\n\u201cMy pardner has told yuh right,\u201d the big man hastened to confirm the\nother\u2019s story. \u201cHe\u2019s back there now, jes\u2019 like we found him.\u201d\nDuring the short announcement by the two men, Rand\u2019s expression had\ngrown severe, as was always the case when he was thinking deeply or when\nhe had suddenly been made aware of some new and unexpected happening. A\ndeep pucker showed between his eyes. He motioned the partners to be\nseated, produced a notebook and fountain pen.\n\u201cNow just a moment,\u201d he began, glancing sharply across at the two tale\nbearers. \u201cAnswer my questions as I put them to you. First of all, just\nwhere did you find this body? How far from here?\u201d\nBurnnel scratched his head.\n\u201cLe\u2019s see\u2014I reckon, corporal, \u2019bout twenty miles from here, southeast on\nthe trail tuh Deer Lick Springs. It was on the right side o\u2019 the trail,\nwa\u2019n\u2019t it Emery?\u201d\n\u201cIt was,\u201d Emery corroborated the other.\n\u201cOn the right side o\u2019 the trail,\u201d continued Burnnel, \u201cclose to a willow\nthicket.\u201d\n\u201cIn what position was the body?\u201d Rand next inquired.\n\u201cThe man was a lyin\u2019 stretched out a little on his left side, one arm\nthrowed up like this:\u201d The speaker imitated the position of the body by\nputting his head forward on the table and extending his arm. \u201cIt was\nlike that, wa\u2019n\u2019t it, Emery?\u201d\nAgain he turned toward the little man.\n\u201cIt was,\u201d came the ready rejoinder.\n\u201cAnd you say there was the mark of a bullet on the man\u2019s forehead?\u201d\n\u201cYep,\u201d Burnnel answered, \u201can\u2019 a revolver in the hand what was\noutstretched.\u201d\n\u201cIn other words,\u201d Rand\u2019s tone was incisive, \u201cit looked like suicide.\u201d\nBoth the men nodded emphatically.\n\u201cYeah, that\u2019s what it was. Suicide. An\u2019 it happened not very long afore\nwe had come. Yuh could see that.\u201d\nThe policeman tapped softly on the back of his hand with his fountain\npen. For several minutes he did not speak, then\u2014\n\u201cYou say you didn\u2019t disturb the body?\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered the little man, \u201cwe didn\u2019t touch him.\u201d\n\u201cDid you, by any chance, examine the contents of his pockets?\u201d\nThe big man flushed under the direct scrutiny, while his partner, Emery,\nsuddenly became interested in the fringe of his mackinaw jacket.\n\u201cWell, yes,\u201d drawled the big man. \u201cYuh see,\u201d he attempted to defend\ntheir actions, \u201cEmery an\u2019 me thought that mebbe we could find a letter\nor suthin\u2019 in his pockets what would tell who the fellow was.\u201d\n\u201cQuite right,\u201d approved Rand. \u201cAnd what did you find?\u201d\n\u201cNothin\u2019,\u201d stated Emery.\n\u201cNothin\u2019,\u201d echoed his partner.\n\u201cAbsolutely nothing?\u201d Rand\u2019s eyes seemed to bore into them.\nThe partners exchanged furtive, doubtful glances. Then the face of Emery\ndarkened with a sudden resolve, and he thrust one hand in his pocket and\nbrought forth\u2014to the boys\u2019 unutterable amazement\u2014a small moose-hide\npouch, scarcely more than two inches in width and three inches in\nlength\u2014a small poke, identical to the one Dick had held in his own hands\nless than twenty-four hours before. Seeing it, Dick had taken in his\nbreath sharply, while Sandy and Toma rose excitedly to their feet and\ncrowded forward.\n\u201cYou found that?\u201d asked Rand, wholly unmoved.\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s see it.\u201d\nEmery tossed it over and it fell in Rand\u2019s lap. The corporal picked it\nup and examined it closely. He untied the cord at the top and opened it.\nHe thrust two fingers inside.\n\u201cEmpty,\u201d he said.\n\u201cYeah. Empty.\u201d\nBoth Burnnel and Emery wagged their heads. Corporal Rand favored them\nwith a keen, searching look.\n\u201cYou\u2019re sure about that. You didn\u2019t take out its contents?\u201d\nThe partners denied the implication stoutly. Their denials and\nprotestations were so emphatic, that neither Corporal Rand nor the boys\ncould believe that they spoke anything but the truth.\n\u201cAnd this was all you found?\u201d Rand continued his questioning.\n\u201cNothin\u2019 else,\u201d grunted the big man. \u201cThere wasn\u2019t even a pocket knife\nor a comb or a watch, or anything like that. His pockets was absolutely\nempty.\u201d\nThe sight of the moose-hide pouch had produced a strange effect upon\nDick. His eyes kept returning again and again to the mysterious object\nRand still held carelessly in one hand. Improbable as it seemed, Dick\ncould not shake off the belief that the poke was the same one that had\nbeen taken forcibly from Creel the night before. He wondered what the\nold recluse thought about it all. Turning his head, he glanced sharply\nin his direction.\nTo his surprise, Creel sat unmoved, apparently uninterested. His round,\nstaring eyes, which somehow reminded one of those of a cat, were set in\na fixed stare. Occasionally, Creel\u2019s long hand stole to his bandaged\nhead. It was evident that nothing was to be gained here. Then Dick\nbecame conscious of a question that Rand had just asked the two men:\n\u201cYou found the body along the trail, twenty miles from here. Deer Lick\nSprings is only ten miles farther on. What motive prompted you to return\nhere? Wouldn\u2019t it have been much easier to go on to your destination?\u201d\n\u201cWe thought about that,\u201d the little man answered without a moment\u2019s\nhesitation. \u201cBurnnel an\u2019 me we talked that over when we was standin\u2019\nlookin\u2019 down at that man\u2019s body. I was fer goin\u2019 on tuh the Springs, but\nBurnnel he says no. Wouldn\u2019t hear to it. He insists on comin\u2019 back all\nthis way tuh Frenchie\u2019s stoppin\u2019-place.\u201d\n\u201cWhy?\u201d asked the policeman, turning upon Burnnel.\nThe big man drew a deep breath before he answered.\n\u201cIt\u2019s like this, corporal,\u201d he finally declared. \u201cYuh see I had a notion\nthat I had seen that man before. He looked like somebody I knowed what\nlives over this way. I wa\u2019n\u2019t sure, o\u2019 course, but I had a suspicion. It\nsort o\u2019 bothered me. I says to Emery: \u2018We\u2019ll go back an\u2019 find out.\u2019\u201d\nThe pucker came back between the corporal\u2019s brooding eyes. He looked\nupon Burnnel with suspicion. Dick wondered if Rand believed, as he was\nsomewhat inclined to believe himself, that the partners were the man\u2019s\nmurderers.\n\u201cWhat did you intend to do when you arrived here?\u201d Rand asked.\n\u201cWe was plannin\u2019 to send word tuh the police. We thought they ought tuh\nbe notified. But afore God, corporal, we didn\u2019t have no idea that yuh\nwas here. Mighty lucky, I call it. Saved us a hull lot o\u2019 time an\u2019\ntrouble.\u201d\n\u201cYes, it was lucky,\u201d the corporal averred grimly. \u201cRather fortunate for\nme too. You may consider yourselves under arrest, at least until I have\ninvestigated this case. You and your partner will lead me to the scene\nof the tragedy.\u201d\n\u201cA\u2019 right,\u201d agreed Emery, his face more repellent than ever, \u201cme an\u2019\nBurnnel\u2019ll go with yuh. It won\u2019t take long. If we had some horses now\u2014\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll supply the horses,\u201d Rand informed him.\n\u201cThat\u2019s fine!\u201d Emery\u2019s smile expanded into a leer. \u201cWe can go an\u2019 get\nback afore night. Ain\u2019t that right, Burnnel?\u201d\n\u201cYeah,\u201d agreed Burnnel, \u201can\u2019 when do we start, corporal?\u201d\n\u201cRight away.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s a\u2019 right with us,\u201d said the big man, \u201conly\u2014\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d insisted Rand, \u201cOnly\u2014\u201d\n\u201cYuh see, me an\u2019 Emery ain\u2019t had nothin\u2019 tuh eat fer a long time. Soon\nas we get suthin\u2019\u2014jes\u2019 a bite, corporal\u2014we\u2019ll be ready tuh start. Ain\u2019t\nthat fair enough?\u201d\nRand nodded. His brow had contracted slightly, deepening the pucker\nbetween his eyes.\n\u201cThere\u2019s one thing you\u2019ve forgotten to tell me,\u201d he informed them.\n\u201cBurnnel, you said a moment ago that the man out there reminded you of\nsomeone. Who?\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said the big man eagerly, \u201cI was a comin\u2019 tuh that. It\u2019ll\nexplain, corporal, why we drifts back this way \u2019stead o\u2019 goin\u2019 on to\nDeer Lick Springs. Yuh see, the man out there looked,\u201d he paused,\nwetting his lips, \u201clooked like this here fellow what runs this\nstoppin\u2019-place\u2014this here Frenchie Frischette.\u201d\nThe three boys bounded from their seats. Corporal Rand himself started\nvisibly. With one exception every one in the room showed his\nastonishment. That exception was Creel. The old recluse sat perfectly\nunmoved, as though he had expected, had been prepared for the strange\ndenouement.\n                          CONFLICTING THEORIES\nSoon after the departure of Corporal Rand, Burnnel and Emery, the boys\nsat in the big, cheerful room of Frischette\u2019s road-house and discussed\nthe latest episode in the chain of mysterious events.\n\u201cI never expected to encounter anything like this,\u201d Sandy was saying.\n\u201cHonestly, Dick, it gives me the shivers just to think about it. If I\nwere called upon to express an opinion, I\u2019d say that the farther we get\ninto this case, the more muddled and difficult everything appears to be.\nFor one thing, whoever would have guessed that this sudden tragedy would\nhave overtaken Frischette. What is the reason for it? Do you really\nbelieve the story about the suicide?\u201d\n\u201cIt sounds plausible, the way they tell it, but to be perfectly frank, I\nthink it\u2019s a deliberate lie. Why should Frischette take his own life? It\nwould be rather difficult to supply a motive.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I think. But if he didn\u2019t take his life, how\u2014I mean, what\nhappened?\u201d\n\u201cSimple enough. Burnnel and Emery met Frischette on the trail,\ndiscovered that he had the poke and murdered him. Then, having committed\nthe crime, they became afraid. In order to save their own necks, they\ndevised a scheme so that it will appear that the Frenchman had taken his\nown life. They probably arranged the body to bear out the story, placing\na revolver in Frischette\u2019s hand. They emptied the poke, hid its\ncontents, and then came back here, intending, as they both openly\nadmitted, to get in touch with the police.\u201d\n\u201cWell, that is a lot more plausible than the suicide story. Do you think\nthat Corporal Rand was taken in by it?\u201d\n\u201cNo; not in the least. They won\u2019t be able to fool him for a minute. When\nthey return here tonight, I\u2019ll be willing to wager every cent I have\nthat Burnnel and Emery are still under arrest.\u201d\n\u201cI won\u2019t take your bet,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cThat\u2019s my belief too.\u201d\nImagine their surprise, therefore, less than four hours later, to\nwitness the return of Corporal Rand and to perceive that he was\nunaccompanied. Burnnel and Emery were not with him. The horses which had\nborne the two prospectors to the scene of the tragedy, trotted behind\nthe policeman\u2019s horse at the end of a lead-rope, saddled but unmounted.\nIt seemed incredible to the boys that Rand, usually so careful and\ncautious in matters of this kind, should permit the two miscreants to\nslip out of his hands. It was not like him. What could be the reason for\nit? They could hardly wait for the policeman to dismount.\n\u201cI found everything,\u201d said Rand a few minutes later, \u201cjust as Burnnel\nand Emery told us. It is unquestionably a case of suicide. Everything\npointed to it. The revolver gripped in Frischette\u2019s hand, the position\nof the body and the wound in his forehead. But what caused him to commit\nsuch a rash act, is a problem which we may never solve.\u201d\nWhile the corporal was speaking, Dick could scarcely contain himself. On\ntwo or three different occasions he started to interrupt the policeman.\nAt the very first opportunity he broke forth:\n\u201cCorporal Rand,\u201d he began earnestly, \u201cyou have made your investigations\nand, no doubt, are in a better position than we are to form an opinion.\nBut has it occurred to you that there is something unusually mysterious\nabout the whole affair. Sandy and I were talking it over just before you\ncame in. And no matter from what angle we look at it, we can draw but\none conclusion.\u201d\n\u201cAnd what is that?\u201d Rand was smiling.\n\u201cThat Burnnel and Emery killed Frischette, afterward making it appear\nthat the road-house keeper took his own life.\u201d\nCorporal Rand moved over to where Dick stood and patted that young man\non the back good-naturedly.\n\u201cSplendid! You\u2019ve both shown that you know how to use your heads. And\nnow, I\u2019ll make an admission: That was exactly my own estimate of the\ncase up to a few hours ago. To use a well known expression, the thing\nlooked like a \u2018frame-up,\u2019 very carefully planned by Monsieurs Burnnel\nand Emery. I could have sworn that they were guilty. I was absolutely\nsure\u2014as sure as I am that I\u2019m standing here\u2014that Frischette had not\ncommitted suicide at all, but had been murdered. There was pretty strong\ncircumstantial evidence to bear out this belief. The two men had gone to\nCreel to obtain the poke, and had secured it, only to lose it again\nthrough your intervention.\u201d\nThe corporal paused, clearing his throat.\n\u201cThen Frischette got it from you. Now, I ask you, what would be more\nlikely than that the two prospectors and Frischette should meet each\nother, that Emery and Burnnel should learn that the Frenchman had come\ninto possession of the poke and eventually murder him in order to get\nit. As I have said, that was the reasonable and logical deduction, and\nyou can imagine my astonishment to discover, almost beyond the shadow of\na doubt, that such a deduction was entirely wrong. Motive or no motive,\nthe Frenchman took his own life. I have proof of that.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is your proof?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cWell, I made a search of the body and found something that both Burnnel\nand Emery had overlooked, a note in the inner pocket of Frischette\u2019s\ncoat. I know his handwriting and I am positive that the note is not a\nforgery.\u201d\n\u201cWhat did it say?\u201d Dick asked breathlessly.\nBy way of answering, Corporal Rand produced a wallet and extracted from\nit a small, soiled slip of paper, handing it over to the boys to read.\nFor a moment they found difficulty in deciphering the sprawling, almost\nillegible script. But presently Dick read aloud:\n  \u201cTo whom it may concern:\n  \u201cI, Louis Frischette, am about to kel myself because I am veery much\n  desappoint. I write thes so no other man be acuse an\u2019 put in jail for\n  what I do.\nDick\u2019s hand shook as he handed the paper back to the policeman.\n\u201cI\u2019m not convinced yet,\u201d he declared.\n\u201cBut here\u2019s the evidence\u2014the proof right here.\u201d Rand patted the slip of\npaper.\n\u201cIt might be explained,\u201d Dick pointed out.\n\u201cWhat!\u201d The corporal looked startled.\n\u201cHow do you know that Emery and Burnnel did not force Frischette to\nwrite that note before they murdered him?\u201d\nRand did a peculiar thing. He stared at Dick for a moment in absolute\nsilence, then turned without a word and walked back into the stable and\nled out his horse. Not until he had sprung into the saddle did he trust\nhimself to speak.\n\u201cI\u2019m going back. I ought to be jerked back there by the nape of my neck.\nWhat have I been dreaming of? Dick, I\u2019ll take off my hat to you. It\u2019s a\nfortunate thing that one of us, at least, has not been wholly deprived\nof the faculty of sober reasoning.\u201d He smiled grimly. \u201cIf this ever got\nto Cameron\u2019s ears, I\u2019d be fined six months\u2019 pay.\u201d\n\u201cBut I may be wrong,\u201d Dick flushed at the other\u2019s compliment.\n\u201cRight or wrong, we can\u2019t afford to take any chances. In any event, I\u2019m\ngoing back before Emery and Burnnel slip out of my hands.\u201d\nAnd, in an incredibly short space of time, he was gone. A turn in the\nwoodland path shut him from view. But, even long after he had gone, Dick\nand Sandy stood looking down the trail, across which laggard twilight\nhad flung its darkling banners. Sandy broke into an amused chuckle.\n\u201cThat\u2019s one on the corporal. He won\u2019t be in a very pleasant frame of\nmind for the remainder of the evening, will he?\u201d\nDick scowled.\n\u201cYou must remember, Sandy, that we all make mistakes. Rand\u2019s oversight\nis excusable. He\u2019s been working on this case day and night for the last\nsix months. He\u2019s tired out, and sometimes so sleepy that he can hardly\nstick in the saddle.\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s right.\u201d The laugh died on the young Scotchman\u2019s lips. \u201cHe\u2019s\nhad a lot to contend with. And perhaps he hasn\u2019t made a mistake after\nall. Frischette may have committed suicide. The note might not have been\nforced from him. Who can say?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwho can say? Why don\u2019t you put on your thinking cap,\nSandy, and find a motive for Frischette\u2019s act?\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s a bargain. We\u2019ll find the motive. We\u2019ll go over the details\ncarefully in our minds and try to come to some conclusion.\u201d\nSandy grinned. \u201cAnd tomorrow morning we\u2019ll compare notes.\u201d\nThey were interrupted at this juncture by the appearance of Toma. They\ncould see at once, from that young man\u2019s expression, that something\nunusual had happened. His face, sober at all times, was unusually gray\nand depressed. As he came forward quickly, he kept glancing from one to\nthe other interrogatively.\n\u201cHave you seen \u2019em fellow Creel?\u201d he asked anxiously.\n\u201cWhy, no, Toma,\u201d Dick answered. \u201cWhat makes you ask that?\u201d\n\u201cLittle while ago,\u201d the young Indian enlightened them, \u201cI think mebbe I\nchange bandage on that fellow\u2019s head. I look everywhere. I no find.\u201d\n\u201cCome to think about it,\u201d Sandy made the assertion, \u201cI haven\u2019t seen him\nmyself since lunch.\u201d\nToma\u2019s face darkened.\n\u201cI \u2019fraid mebbe he run away.\u201d\nThe disappearance of Creel caused the boys a lot of worry. He had left\nthe road-house without a word to anyone and had slipped away without\nbeing seen. It occurred to Dick to question Fontaine and Le Sueur, in\nthe hope that they might be able to throw some light on the matter. But\nneither of the two young half-breeds could supply any information.\n\u201cHe must have gone back to his cabin,\u201d guessed Sandy. \u201cHe\u2019s a queer old\nduffer in some ways, and probably prefers to be alone. No doubt, we\u2019ll\nfind him there.\u201d\nBut such did not prove to be the case. Creel\u2019s cabin was empty. When the\nboys entered, the place was strangely silent and eerie. It was so dark\nwithin, that at first they could see nothing. It was damp and musty, and\ntheir footsteps echoed cheerlessly through the gloom.\n\u201cStrike a match,\u201d said Dick, \u201cand we\u2019ll see if you can find a candle.\nAlthough he isn\u2019t here, I\u2019d like to look around a bit.\u201d\nThe boys fumbled in their pockets. No one had a match, apparently, but\nfinally Toma found a broken stub of one and a tiny glare flickered\nthrough the room. In its light, Sandy discovered a short piece of candle\non a soap box near the fireplace and carried it triumphantly over to\nToma before the match sputtered out.\nIt was well that the boys had decided to look around before pursuing\ntheir investigations further. The room was in complete disorder.\nConfusion was everywhere. Toma, who had been the last person to leave it\non the previous day, was astonished at the change which had been brought\nabout there.\n\u201cWhat you think about that?\u201d he exclaimed excitedly. \u201cYesterday, when I\nleave this place, everything all right. Somebody him come an\u2019 make\ntrouble here.\u201d\n\u201cCreel must have come back,\u201d Sandy decided. \u201cI wonder where he went to\nfrom here?\u201d\n\u201cThat seems hardly likely,\u201d Dick spoke up. \u201cEverything here belongs to\nCreel and he wouldn\u2019t be apt to throw things about like this. It isn\u2019t\nat all reasonable, Sandy. Even if he was planning to leave this place\nfor good, he wouldn\u2019t do this thing, unless he had suddenly gone mad.\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s right. Just look at things! It\u2019s more reasonable to think\nthat someone came here with a grudge against Creel and proceeded to do\nas much damage as possible.\u201d\nThe boys spent a few more minutes in looking about. A tall cupboard, at\none end of the room, had been completely emptied. Its contents\u2014parcels,\npackages, cans of fruit and an occasional dish or granite plate\u2014had been\nswept to the floor. Chairs had been overturned. A small trap-door,\nentering upon a tiny cellar below the rough, board floor, gaped open.\nLooking at it, Dick came to a sudden conclusion.\n\u201cDo you know what I think?\u201d he began hurriedly. \u201cThis isn\u2019t a case of\nwanton revenge. There\u2019s a reason behind it all. In Creel\u2019s absence some\nperson has been ransacking this place in the hope of finding something\nof value.\u201d\n\u201cYou guess right that time,\u201d Toma nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s what it look like.\nSomebody, not Creel, come here. Mebbe he look for box, where Creel keep\nall his money.\u201d\nSandy turned upon the young Indian.\n\u201cBy the way, Toma, what became of that box, the night we left here and\nyou took Creel over to the road-house?\u201d\n\u201cHe take box with him.\u201d\n\u201cWhoever came here,\u201d reasoned Dick, \u201cmust have thought that Creel\u2019s\ntreasure had been left behind.\u201d\nSandy scratched his head.\n\u201cLook here, Dick, do you think it _was_ the box? Was it the money he\ncame after? Why not that mysterious poke?\u201d\nDick slapped his chum on the back.\n\u201cYou have it,\u201d he exulted. \u201cWe\u2019re getting closer now.\u201d\n\u201cAnd the plot thickens,\u201d grinned Sandy.\n\u201cA few more tangled threads,\u201d Dick answered, smiling. \u201cPerhaps we\u2019d\nbetter give up. This case is too deep and complicated for us. We haven\u2019t\nthe ability to solve it.\u201d\n\u201cI quite agree with you. Not one of us is a Sherlock Holmes or an expert\nfrom Scotland Yard. We\u2019re out of our natural element.\u201d\n\u201cJust the same,\u201d Dick\u2019s enthusiasm was contagious, \u201cwe\u2019ll have lots of\nfun in trying to figure it all out.\u201d\n\u201cWhat we do about Creel?\u201d Toma wanted to know.\nIn their interest in the new development, Dick and Sandy had completely\nforgotten about the old recluse until thus reminded. Where had he gone,\nand what was his purpose in going?\n\u201cNo use in trying to do anything more about him tonight,\u201d Dick came to\nthe obvious conclusion. \u201cIt would be foolish to start out now to look\nfor him. We don\u2019t know which way he has gone.\u201d\n\u201cPerfectly true,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cHe has given us the slip and, even in\nbroad daylight, we\u2019ll probably have plenty of trouble in picking up his\ntrail. We\u2019ve been careless. I dread to think of what Corporal Rand will\nsay, when he hears the news.\u201d\nDick righted an overturned bench and sat down upon it.\n\u201cLet\u2019s rest here for a moment and then go back to the road-house.\u201d\nToma, who had been carrying the candle about in his hand, moved forward\nand placed it upon the table. Sandy drew up a chair. A short silence\nensued. Outside they could hear the plaintive whispering of the pines,\nthe rustling of leaves near the open window.\nSuddenly, Sandy sat up very straight on the bench, then leaned forward\neagerly, his merry blue eyes now serious.\n\u201cI\u2019ve just had a real inspiration,\u201d he announced. \u201cIncidentally, I\u2019ve\nfulfilled my part of our agreement. I\u2019ve found the motive for\nFrischette\u2019s suicide.\u201d\n\u201cTell us.\u201d\nDick\u2019s face lit in a half-smile. At the moment he did not take Sandy\nseriously. He doubted very much whether Sandy would be able to advance\nanything of value concerning the Frenchman\u2019s untimely end. Yet he was\nmildly curious to learn what the other had to say.\n\u201cWhat is your motive?\u201d\n\u201cBefore I tell you,\u201d Sandy\u2019s eyes were sparkling now, \u201cI want to ask you\na question. Please comb that old wool of yours and help me out as much\nas you can.\u201d\n\u201cFire away,\u201d smiled Dick.\n\u201cThe other night when we took the poke away from Burnnel and Emery, can\nyou remember what it felt like?\u201d\nDick broke into a roar of laughter.\n\u201cFelt like? What do you mean, Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cThe poke, of course,\u201d scowled the young Scotchman. \u201cI\u2019m perfectly\nserious. It\u2019s important. For nearly a minute you held that poke in your\nhand. Didn\u2019t you feel it? Didn\u2019t you look at it? What were your\nsensations?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, why\u2014I was too excited at the time. I had it in my hand, of course.\nI remember it sort of fitted nicely in my hand\u2014a little, flat poke, made\nof soft leather, that was somehow pleasant to the touch.\u201d\nIn his excitement, Sandy rose to his feet.\n\u201cThere! That\u2019s what I\u2019ve been driving at. Didn\u2019t it occur to you at the\ntime that the poke was curiously light?\u201d\n\u201cNo, I can\u2019t remember that it did. On the contrary. I have a sort of\nhazy memory that, although the poke was somewhat flat, it did contain\nsomething.\u201d\nSandy sighed. \u201cWell, if that\u2019s the case, I guess my theory is already\nexploded.\u201d\n\u201cWhat were you trying to deduce?\u201d\n\u201cYou can have it for what it\u2019s worth. You will recall that after Burnnel\nand Emery had spurned the money-box, and had knocked Creel flat across\nthe threshold, they went inside and found the poke\u2014the thing they had\ncome after. They weren\u2019t inside that room more than a few moments. I\ndon\u2019t believe they opened the poke inside the room, and I know they\ndidn\u2019t open it outside. They were probably satisfied that it contained\nwhat they had reason to believe it contained\u2014I mean, weren\u2019t\nsuspicious.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand you.\u201d\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s just a possibility, of course, yet it seems quite\nreasonable. Anyway, for the sake of argument, we\u2019ll say that Creel had\nremoved everything of value from the poke. Not suspecting this ruse,\nBurnnel and Emery took the poke away with them. A few yards away from\nthe cabin they are confronted by Toma, and then we relieve them of that\nmysterious poke. We have it in our possession only a short time.\nFrischette snatches it away from you. Believing that he has a fortune in\nhis hands, he decides to make his escape, leaving Creel, his\nconfederate, in the lurch.\u201d\nSandy paused for breath, smiled soberly, then went on again:\n\u201cLet us say that he puts the poke in his pocket and hurries along,\ngloating over his good fortune. At first, he\u2019s so busy endeavoring to\nput distance between him and the rest of us, that he doesn\u2019t find it\nconvenient to open the poke and examine its contents.\n\u201cAfter a time, he slackens his pace. He pulls the poke from his pocket,\nopens it, and, to his horror, discovers that it is empty. What is he\ngoing to do? He dare not turn back. He has no money. You will remember\nthat Frischette was a person of sudden moods and emotions. He was\nviolent in everything\u2014violently happy or utterly dejected. He feels that\nthere is nothing to do but to take his own life. A few hours later,\nBurnnel and Emery came along and find his body and the empty poke. Now,\nwhat do you think of that for a theory?\u201d\n\u201cSandy,\u201d said Dick, in tones of deep admiration, \u201cyou\u2019ve done well.\nSplendid! Very logical. I\u2019ve almost begun to believe in your theory\nmyself.\u201d\n\u201cThe trouble is,\u201d sighed Sandy, \u201cit has one very weak point.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d questioned Dick.\n\u201cYou said just a moment ago that you were under the impression that,\nwhen you had the poke in your hand, it contained something; wasn\u2019t quite\nempty.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d remembered Dick, \u201cit wasn\u2019t.\u201d\n\u201cSo all my clever reasoning has been in vain.\u201d Sandy looked despondent.\n\u201cThe circumstances do not fit my theory.\u201d\nAnother long silence.\n\u201cLet\u2019s not discard your theory altogether,\u201d said Dick at length.\n\u201cPerhaps I can help you out a little. Two minds are better than one, you\nknow. Permit me to offer a suggestion. From what you have said, I gather\nthat your inference is that Creel removed the contents of the poke.\nWell, perhaps he did.\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cGo on.\u201d\n\u201cAnd made a substitution. Put something of no value, whatsoever, in the\npoke. That will bolster up your theory.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s eyes gleamed.\n\u201cYou\u2019re right. If we keep at it, Dick, we\u2019ll soon be as proficient as\nthe great Sherlock Holmes himself.\u201d\nBefore the lunch hour on the following day, Corporal Rand and his two\nprisoners returned to Frischette\u2019s road-house, only to discover that\nCreel and the three boys were gone. However, Fontaine had a letter,\nwhich he pressed into the policeman\u2019s hands. It was from Dick, a short\nnote, scrawled hastily over the discolored surface of a torn piece of\nwrapping paper:\n  \u201cDear Corporal:\n  \u201cCreel disappeared yesterday and we have set out this morning in an\n  effort to find him. If our search is not successful, it is doubtful\n  whether we will return to the road-house before tonight\u2014and it may\n  possibly be sometime tomorrow. Very sorry this had to happen.\nRand looked up, after perusing the short missive, and pursed his lips.\nThen he made a swift calculation. If Dick and his two chums had\ncontrived to pick up Creel\u2019s trail, and had travelled steadily in one\ndirection, they were not more than twenty or thirty miles away at that\nprecise moment. They were on foot, while he had the choice of three\ntough, sturdy horses. It would be possible to overtake them and assist\nin the search. He wondered if it would be advisable to leave Burnnel and\nEmery locked up in a room at the road-house, awaiting his return.\nHe thought the matter over carefully. He hated to risk the chance of\nlosing his prisoners, yet it was very important that Creel should not\nescape. The recluse, as the boys had ascertained a few days before, had\nbeen associated with Frischette in a number of robberies, including that\nof Dewberry.\nDewberry\u2019s poke had been in the possession of Creel until the coming of\nBurnnel and Emery. No doubt, Creel knew all about the murder as well. In\nany case, he was too dangerous a character to be permitted to run at\nlarge. The policeman roundly upbraided himself for his negligence in\nfailing to instruct the boys about keeping close watch over the man\nduring his own recent absence.\nAfter much thinking, pro and con, the corporal came to a decision. He\nwould go. Fontaine would watch over the prisoners. Just as soon as he,\nRand, could feed and water his horse and get something to eat himself,\nhe would immediately take the trail south\u2014for that undoubtedly was the\ndirection in which the wily old recluse had gone.\nHaving made his plans, the policeman proceeded to put them into\nexecution. He cared for his horse, had lunch, gave Fontaine final\ninstructions, and, just before starting out, locked Burnnel and Emery in\nthe room, which formerly had been the private chamber of the road-house\nkeeper himself. He led out his horse, saddled and bridled, and was in\nthe very act of mounting, when a sound came from the opposite side of\nthe road-house. It caused him to hesitate, one foot already in the\nstirrup, then presently, with an exclamation of surprise, to withdraw\nthat foot and place it firmly on the ground again.\nA half-breed woman, quite young, sitting gracefully on a pinto pony,\nguided by a rope bridle, came around the corner of the house and drew\nup, less than twenty feet from the spot where the corporal stood.\nSeeing a woman there, was not what had interested Rand so much as the\nfact that he had immediately recognized her. It was \u201cRat\u201d MacGregor\u2019s\nwife!\nIf he had suddenly been brought face to face with her like this at any\nother place except here, at Frischette\u2019s road-house, he would have\nthought nothing of it, would have continued about his business,\nuntroubled by a single suspicion.\nBut here it was different. What was the woman doing here? Surely it was\nfor no good purpose. Her coming had induced a perplexing train of\nthought in the corporal\u2019s mind, and had made necessary a complete\nrevision of his plans.\nShaking his head, he led his horse back into the stable and advanced to\nquestion the woman. Removing his hat, he bowed politely.\n\u201cMadam is a long way from home,\u201d he remarked. \u201cMay I ask which way you\nare going?\u201d\n\u201cRat\u201d MacGregor\u2019s wife threw back her head haughtily.\n\u201cPolice! Bah!\u201d she sniffed.\n\u201cYou have been released on probation,\u201d the policeman reminded her, not\nunkindly. \u201cInspector Cameron has asked you to remain at home. What are\nyou doing here?\u201d\nThe woman sniffed again, but did not answer. She turned her back and\nbegan fumbling with the cinches of the saddle.\n\u201cYou will return home at once,\u201d Rand instructed her, endeavoring to keep\nhis temper.\nShe turned her head and looked over her shoulder, her face set and\ndetermined.\n\u201cWhy you say where I go?\u201d she broke forth passionately. \u201cWhat business\nyou have tell me go home? I go, I stay where I like. First, you keel my\nman, then you put me in jail, then you say I no go where I wish. Police\npretty big fool, eh?\u201d\n\u201cMrs. MacGregor,\u201d declared the corporal patiently, \u201cwe have been more\nthan kind to you. We released you from jail and placed you on probation.\nAll that we have asked is that you remain at home and be good, attend to\nyour own affairs. If you will do that, we will not put you back in jail\nagain.\u201d\n\u201cBah!\u201d snorted MacGregor\u2019s wife, sticking out her tongue and defying\nhim.\n\u201cYou must promise to go back,\u201d said Rand. \u201cYou must be good. You must\nnot try to anger the police. If you will go back this afternoon, I will\nnot mention this matter to the inspector. He shall know nothing about it\nand will not ask me to put you back in jail.\u201d\nFor a moment the policeman believed that he had won his point. Her\nmanner changed suddenly.\n\u201cMy horse he is very tired.\u201d\n\u201cI will take him in the stable for you and give him something to eat. He\ncan rest there for a few hours and then you can start back.\u201d\nThe corporal advanced, pushed her gently aside, loosened the cinches and\nswung the saddle from the back of the pinto mare. As he did so,\nMacGregor\u2019s wife withdrew a few paces. The policeman had his back to\nher, and, therefore, did not see the swift movement of her right hand\ntoward her blouse. But he did see, when next he chanced to turn his\nhead, the small revolver nestling in her hand\u2014pointed straight at his\nhead.\n\u201cI didn\u2019t think you\u2019d do a thing like that,\u201d declared Rand,\nreproachfully. \u201cYou\u2019ll only get yourself in more trouble. Put it down.\u201d\n\u201cYou keel my man,\u201d the young barbarian declared spitefully. \u201cNow I keel\nyou.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s your privilege,\u201d answered the policeman, quite unmoved. \u201cBut if\nyou do, you\u2019ll hang for it. Be reasonable, and put down that gun.\u201d\n\u201cRat\u201d MacGregor\u2019s wife possessed the black, beady eyes of a snake. They\nwere unrelenting, wicked, revengeful. Her staring gaze never left the\npoliceman\u2019s face. Eight feet away\u2014it would not be possible to leap\nsuddenly forward and disarm her. His best chance was to endeavor to get\nhis own gun.\nBut how could he get his gun, when she was watching him like that? He\nknew that if he moved his hand a single inch, her weapon would explode\nin his face. Hers was no idle threat. She really intended to kill him!\nThere was a chance, very remote, of course, that Fontaine or Le Sueur\nmight come to his assistance. Look out of the window. See him and the\nwoman there.\n\u201cLook here,\u201d said Rand, fighting for time, \u201cI think you are making a\nvery serious mistake. You\u2019ll have to answer for it in the end. Inspector\nCameron will be sure to get you. You can\u2019t possibly escape. While there\nis still time, you\u2019d better put down that gun.\u201d\n\u201cIf I do,\u201d her eyes glinted, \u201cwill you promise not put me in jail?\u201d\nThe corporal did not hesitate.\n\u201cA while ago I could have given you my promise. But not now. It is too\nlate, madam.\u201d\nThe policeman was afraid that he had sounded his own death-knell. Well,\nhe had told the truth, anyway. He had not lied to her. He had not\nstained his honor or violated the code. He wondered why he could feel so\ncalm with those eyes blazing at him and the knowledge that he was about\nto die. Calm!\u2014when he could see that the index finger of her right hand\nwas beginning to press slowly but determinedly against the trigger.\n\u201cTime\u2019s up!\u201d thought Corporal Rand.\nAnd then\u2014like the sound that comes out of a dream\u2014the opening of a door.\nThe search for Creel had taken the boys southward. They were not sure\nthat he had gone that way; it merely seemed the most likely direction.\nHe had taken the contents of his money-box and had decamped, leaving no\ntrail. Just before starting, they had found the empty chest in the room\nwhich he had occupied.\nBeing a fugitive from justice, and with a considerable amount of money\nin his possession, the natural deduction was that he was making his way\nout to Edmonton. His chance of escaping was good. He had at least six\nhours\u2019 start. He was not known to be a criminal. Almost anywhere he\nwould have passed unchallenged. As yet, the police had had no\nopportunity to telegraph ahead in an effort to secure his apprehension.\nThe boys had discussed his probable route, deciding that he would go by\nway of Peace River Crossing. Boats of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company plied up\nand down the river during the spring and summer months, and it was only\nreasonable to suppose that he would secure passage on one of these,\nascend the river to Peace River Crossing, where he could purchase a\nticket to go by rail to Edmonton.\nAll this, of course, was mere conjecture. They had no real assurance\nthat it was the route that the old recluse would take. For all they\nknew, he might still be in hiding somewhere in the vicinity of the\nroad-house. The only way to determine whether or not he was on his way\nsouth, was to set out along the trail, making inquiries wherever\npossible.\nDwellings were few and far between. Sixteen miles due south of\nFrischette\u2019s, they arrived at Meade\u2019s Ferry, where there was a\nroad-house and small trading-post, conducted by Hampton Meade, a kindly\nveteran of the North. Here Fortune befriended them. They learned that\ntheir assumption had been correct. Creel had spent the night there.\n\u201cAnd he left early this morning,\u201d Meade\u2019s son, a handsome young man of\nabout Dick\u2019s own age, informed them. \u201cQueer old beggar, isn\u2019t he?\u201d\nDick nodded.\n\u201cDid he leave here on foot?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nDick considered for a moment thoughtfully.\n\u201cWould it be possible to obtain a horse or two? Are there any here? We\nhad our own ponies when we arrived at Frischette\u2019s stopping-place. We\nturned them out to graze and they have disappeared. If you have any, I\nwill pay you handsomely.\u201d\n\u201cThere are two ponies,\u201d answered the young man,\u201c\u2014one of them mine, the\nother, father\u2019s. You may have the use of them.\u201d\nThe boys were overjoyed at this unexpected stroke of luck. It would be\nnecessary, of course, for one of them to remain at Meade\u2019s, while the\nother two went on after Creel. They drew straws. It fell to Sandy\u2019s lot\nto wait at the road-house until his two chums returned.\n\u201cI don\u2019t expect we\u2019ll be away very long,\u201d declared Dick a short time\nlater, as he and Toma mounted the two borrowed steeds. \u201cWe ought to be\nback before night.\u201d\nCreel had a few hours start of them, but he was walking. With light\nhearts, feeling confident of success, the boys cantered away. Soon the\nmiles wound away behind them. They pressed their ponies forward, urging\nthem to their greatest speed. Time passed quickly. They had now begun to\nscan the trail ahead, in the expectation of seeing the queer, shambling\nfigure of the old recluse. They galloped past a party of Indians, then\ntwo prospectors, trudging along, weighted down by heavy shoulder-packs,\nand finally drew up at a wayside cabin, inhabited by a half-breed\ntrapper. Dick questioned him:\n\u201cDid an old man stop here not so very long ago? Walked with a stoop,\nface covered with a heavy beard, hair straggling in his eyes. Did you\nsee him?\u201d\n\u201c_Oui_, m\u2019sieur. I see him two, three hour ago. Him ver\u2019 fine fellow.\nPlenty money. I have nice horse. He buy et.\u201d\nDick had not expected this. The news had come as a shock. He blinked.\n\u201cRotten luck!\u201d he exclaimed irritably.\n\u201cWhat you say, m\u2019sieur?\u201d\nDick did not answer. He was making a rough calculation. They had already\ncome fifteen or sixteen miles at top speed. No longer were their ponies\nfresh. Creel had the advantage. It would be absolutely impossible to\novertake him now. Apparently, Toma held the same opinion.\n\u201cNo use go on now,\u201d he declared grimly.\nDick turned to the half-breed.\n\u201cYou haven\u2019t any more fresh horses?\u201d\nThe half-breed looked surprised.\n\u201cKnow where we can get any?\u201d Dick persisted.\n\u201cNot many ponies \u2019round here,\u201d explained the trapper. \u201cWhy you no like\nthose pony there?\u201d\n\u201cTired out,\u201d answered Dick. \u201cAnd we want to go fast.\u201d\nHe relaxed in the saddle, and just then an idea came to him.\n\u201cHow far is it from here to Fort Wonderly?\u201d\n\u201c\u2019Bout twelve mile.\u201d\nDick thanked the half-breed, motioned to Toma, and they set off again.\n\u201cWell,\u201d announced Dick, \u201cwe\u2019re going over to the fort.\u201d\n\u201cWhy you go there?\u201d Toma stared blankly. \u201cFort Wonderly off trail. Creel\nhim no go that way. I no understand why you do that.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you, Toma,\u201d Dick spoke despondently. \u201cWe haven\u2019t a chance now\nto overtake Creel. But at Fort Wonderly there\u2019s a government telegraph\noffice, and I\u2019ll give a message to the operator, warning everybody along\nthe route. There is another detachment of the mounted police at Peace\nRiver Crossing, and they\u2019ll send out a man to intercept him.\u201d\nSo it was late that night when Dick and Toma returned to Meade\u2019s Ferry\nand reported the outcome of their journey.\n\u201cIt\u2019s too bad,\u201d Sandy commented, \u201cI was sure that when you got back\nyou\u2019d have Creel with you. But you showed a lot of good sense when you\nsent that message. If Creel manages to slip through the police lines\nfarther south, he\u2019ll be a wizard.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking about Creel all day,\u201d said Dick. \u201cI\u2019ve been blaming\nmyself continually for my negligence. We should never have permitted him\nto escape. I\u2019m positive now that your theory is correct, and that he\u2019s\ngoing south, not only with the money that was in that box, but the\ncontents of Dewberry\u2019s poke as well. I really believe that if we had our\nhands upon him now, and searched him, we\u2019d find everything.\u201d\n\u201cNo doubt, you\u2019re right. Well, I suppose there\u2019s only one thing to do\nnow: Return to Frischette\u2019s road-house. Corporal Rand must be back by\nnow. He\u2019ll know what to do next.\u201d\nThe two boys were joined later by Toma, Meade and his son. The\nfree-trader, a tall, imposing figure, complacently smoked a pipe and now\nand again engaged the boys in conversation.\n\u201cI understand that you\u2019ve come from Fort Good Faith,\u201d he said.\n\u201cWell, not exactly,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cWe live there. Factor MacClaren is\nSandy\u2019s uncle; but for the last few days we\u2019ve been stopping at\nFrischette\u2019s roadhouse.\u201d\nMeade\u2019s clear blue eyes shadowed.\n\u201cFriend of his?\u201d\n\u201cNot exactly,\u201d answered Dick evasively.\n\u201cQueer character,\u201d commented Meade.\n\u201cHe\u2019s dead,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cDead!\u201d The free-trader straightened in his chair, removed the pipe from\nhis mouth and stared. \u201cWhat happened to _him_?\u201d\n\u201cTook his own life.\u201d\nMeade received this information with a slight raising of his eyebrows.\n\u201cQueer! That road-house will soon have an evil name. First Dewberry and\nnow Frischette.\u201d\nFor a time conversation languished. Everyone seemed to be occupied with\nhis own thoughts.\n\u201cI was interested in the Dewberry case,\u201d Meade finally broke the\nsilence. \u201cYou see, I knew him; knew him better probably than most folks.\nSort of unusual fellow, Dewberry was. One of the quietest, queerest men\nI have ever met.\u201d\nDick locked across at Meade sharply.\n\u201cNot very many people really knew Dewberry,\u201d he stated.\n\u201cI knew him,\u201d said Meade, \u201cand I was sorry to hear of his death.\u201d\n\u201cWhere do you suppose Dewberry was going?\u201d Sandy spoke up. \u201cI mean just\nbefore the tragedy. No one seems to know.\u201d\nMeade smiled. \u201cThere\u2019s no secret there. Dewberry often passed along the\ntrail, and sometimes remained here for several days at a time. He was a\nqueer duffer. But once you got to know him, his eccentricities passed\nunnoticed. Not many folks knew it, but Dewberry\u2019s time was divided\nbetween this country and Peace River Crossing. Usually, about six months\nof the year, he lived at the Crossing. He owns property there. Has a\nlittle house, overlooking the Hart River, and for weeks at a time he\u2019d\nshut himself up in it. A lot of folks couldn\u2019t understand why he chose\nto do that. Neither could I, until one time, when I happened to be in\nPeace River Crossing, I met him on the street.\u201d\nFor a time Meade lapsed into silence, gazing reminiscently away in the\ndirection of the river.\n\u201cHe invited me up to the house,\u201d he continued. \u201cTidy little place, I\nfound it. Nicely furnished. Piano, violin, books. Books!\u2014there were rows\nupon rows of books. Special bindings, shelf upon shelf, I tell you, and\nstrange old volumes, musty with age. He loved them. That\u2019s where he\nspent most of his time. Read from morning \u2019til night, and when he wasn\u2019t\nreading, he was fiddling away on the violin or thumping on that piano. I\nstayed there two days, and I want to tell you that I\u2019ve never enjoyed\nanything more. His company. His talk about the books. The music he made\non that piano.\u201d\n\u201cToo bad he\u2019s gone,\u201d said Sandy.\nThe free-trader nodded.\n\u201cHe was reputed to be very wealthy,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cI guess that is true,\u201d Meade answered thoughtfully. \u201cYou see, he was\none of the best prospectors that ever came into the North. There are\nsome folks who say that his luck was phenomenal. At any rate, he had no\noccasion to worry. In recent years, it was more for the love and\nexcitement he got out of the game than the necessity of making more\nmoney that induced him to take those long, lonely treks out there in the\nfoothills.\u201d\n\u201cAfter what you have told us about him,\u201d puzzled Sandy, \u201cthere is one\nthing rather difficult to understand. Why did a person of his\nintelligence carry so much wealth about his person.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t think he did,\u201d declared Meade.\n\u201cIf that is so,\u201d persisted Sandy, \u201cwhy did they follow him and plan the\nrobbery and murder at Frischette\u2019s?\u201d\n\u201cWell, there is no doubt that he had a considerable amount of money and\ngold with him, but no more, probably, than the average prospector. I am\npositive that he didn\u2019t carry his entire wealth with him. \u2018Rat\u2019\nMacGregor, or whoever it was that committed the robbery, merely\nsuspected that such was the case.\u201d\nSandy abandoned the issue. Yet neither he nor Dick was convinced. There\nwas that tell-tale poke.\nAs they sat there, watching the shadows steal out from the darkening\nwoodland beyond, they were presently made aware of a newcomer.\nAn Indian pony, a pinto mare, left the turn of the trail near the fringe\nof trees, bordering the river, and came slowly forward. A woman sat\nastride the pony\u2014a young woman, unmistakably an Indian or half-breed.\nMeade rose as she reined up in front of the cabin and slowly dismounted.\nThe boys were not particularly interested. They had never seen the woman\nbefore.\n\u201cWho is that?\u201d Sandy inquired listlessly.\nBoth boys started at the unexpected answer.\n\u201cHeaven help me,\u201d growled Meade, \u201cif it isn\u2019t \u2018Rat\u2019 MacGregor\u2019s wife!\u201d\nScarcely had the boys recovered from their astonishment, when they were\ntreated to a still greater and more breath-taking surprise. Meade\u2019s son\nwas the first to draw their attention. In their interest in the\nnewcomer, they had entirely overlooked the approach of two others.\nThese two were Burnnel and Emery. They rode up to the accompanying\nthump, thump, thump of three wildly beating hearts. Astride two horses!\nStolen horses! In his agitation, Dick rose and gripped the back of his\nchair. He recognized the wiry little ponies, and rubbed his eyes. Less\nthan twenty-four hours before he had ridden one of them himself. The\nother belonged to Sandy.\nIn truth, Dick had become so excited that for the next few moments he\nwas barely aware of what was taking place. He was confused and\nbefuddled. He saw Sandy and Toma shoot to their feet in sudden dismay\nand shrink back toward the open doorway. Not knowing that anything was\nwrong, Meade and his son had gone forward to bid the new arrivals a\nhearty welcome. And it was probably well that they did, for it gave the\nthree boys time to slip within the log building, hurriedly cross the\nroom and pass out of the door at the opposite side.\nAll three were trembling with excitement. Below his shock of bright\nyellow hair, Sandy\u2019s forehead was ashen. The boys hoped that they had\nnot been recognized. Undoubtedly, while making their approach, Burnnel\nand Emery had seen them, but Dick recalled that in the position in which\nthey sat out there on the front porch, they had been hid somewhat by the\nfigures of Meade and his son.\nThe coming of the two malevolent prospectors had placed them in a rather\nawkward, if not dangerous position. It would be impossible for them to\nremain at the road-house while the partners were there. Burnnel and\nEmery had not forgotten the encounter of two days before in front of\nCreel\u2019s cabin. No doubt, they would take a great deal of pleasure in\nevening the score. Both were remorseless, savage, vindictive. Neither\nwould hesitate for a moment to take any advantage offered, any\nopportunity for reprisal.\n\u201cNo, it will never do for us to remain,\u201d Sandy trembled. \u201cYou and Toma\ncan stay here if you like, Dick\u2014not I. If we stay here, we\u2019ll be\ncompelled to fight it out.\u201d\n\u201cI willing fight,\u201d Toma announced darkly.\n\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be fair to Meade,\u201d Dick objected. \u201cThere\u2019s sure to be\ntrouble. Anyway, there\u2019s nothing to be gained by remaining here.\u201d\n\u201cThe thing to do,\u201d said Sandy emphatically, \u201cis to get out\u2014go somewhere\nand make camp for the night. Either that, or start back at once for\nFrischette\u2019s road-house, which we had planned to do tomorrow anyway.\nI\u2019ll repeat that I don\u2019t care to show my face around here\u2014at least, not\nuntil Burnnel and Emery have gone.\u201d\nThey were standing just outside the door on the side of the cabin\nopposite to the one, where they had previously been sitting talking to\nthe free-trader and his son. They were safe from detection here only for\na few moments. As soon as Burnnel and Emery and \u201cRat\u201d MacGregor\u2019s wife\nput up their horses, they would enter the cabin. Then the boys would be\nseen, for not only the door but one window overlooked the space there on\nthe west side of the house, where they were now standing.\nToma pointed to a line of brush two or three hundred yards away, and\nthey proceeded hurriedly toward it. In leaving thus surreptitiously,\nthey had been forced to abandon part of their equipment\u2014their rifles and\nshoulder-packs, and a small roll of Hudson\u2019s Bay blankets.\n\u201cWhat will Meade think?\u201d Dick inquired anxiously, as they plunged into\nthe dense thicket and commenced picking their way ahead. \u201cHe won\u2019t\nunderstand our sudden disappearance. I\u2019m afraid he\u2019ll be anxious about\nus.\u201d\n\u201cWorse than that,\u201d Sandy struck out at a branch directly in front of him\nbefore taking his next step. \u201cHe\u2019ll be sure to give us away. Emery and\nBurnnel, if they don\u2019t know it already, will learn from him that we were\nat the road-house when they arrived.\u201d\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be helped. I don\u2019t think they\u2019ll follow us.\u201d\n\u201cWhat beats me,\u201d Sandy stopped altogether and turned to face his two\ncompanions soberly, \u201cis how they managed to get away from Corporal Rand.\nYou don\u2019t suppose he turned them loose again, do you?\u201d\n\u201cIt seems hardly likely, yet\u2014\u201d Dick paused.\n\u201cYet they\u2019re here,\u201d the young Scotchman finished the sentence for him.\n\u201cEither they escaped, or he gave them their freedom. If he gave them\ntheir freedom, Rand has proved to his own satisfaction that Frischette\nreally committed suicide. Then, of course, he wouldn\u2019t have any reason\nfor detaining them any longer.\u201d\n\u201cPerfectly true. But that doesn\u2019t explain about the ponies. Rand may be\nkind-hearted and all that, yet he wouldn\u2019t deliberately lend them the\nponies, would he? We need them ourselves.\u201d\n\u201cThey might have stolen the ponies,\u201d reasoned Sandy.\n\u201cThat seems more probable.\u201d\n\u201cWell, what we do now?\u201d Toma had grown impatient. \u201cI think it be foolish\nto stay here in brush all night. Better we start right back an\u2019 see if\nwe find \u2019em Corporal Rand.\u201d\n\u201cBut suppose the corporal didn\u2019t release Burnnel and Emery?\u201d Dick asked\nperplexed. \u201cWe\u2019d be foolish to run away then. The least we could do,\nwould be to keep in sight of them. Remember, Creel has already escaped.\u201d\nIn exasperation, Sandy strode over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down,\nmoping his perspiring forehead with short, angry jabs, a scowl on his\nface.\n\u201cO pshaw! What\u2019s the use? Everything\u2019s turning out all wrong. We\u2019re\ngetting deeper and deeper and deeper into trouble every minute. I\u2019m\nthrough! I\u2019ll never become a policeman or a good detective\u2014I know I\nwon\u2019t. I\u2019m growing tired of all this, Dick. It\u2019s wearing on my nerves.\nIt is, I tell you.\u201d\nDick and Toma both laughed.\n\u201cNonsense, Sandy! This is a game of wits. I like it.\u201d Dick made a\ncomical gesture with his hands. \u201cAll you have to do is to out-guess the\nother fellow. We\u2019ll win in the end. We\u2019re bound to.\u201d\n\u201cOh, is that so. A guessing contest!\u201d The other\u2019s tones were deeply\nsarcastic. \u201cWell, if that\u2019s the case, we\u2019re at the losing end right now.\nHow many of your guesses have been correct?\u201d\nBoy-fashion, Dick strode over and placed a hand on his chum\u2019s indignant\nshoulder.\n\u201cForget it, Sandy. This isn\u2019t a bit like you. Come on!\u201d\n\u201cCome on where?\u201d\nThus put to it, Dick found himself in somewhat of a predicament. The\nquestion required an answer.\n\u201cWhy\u2014why\u2014well\u2014\u201d he began. \u201cYou see, Sandy\u2014\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s a contest,\u201d Sandy reminded him scornfully. \u201cAll you have to do is\nto outwit the other fellow. You like it. Now tell me, please, what is\nyour guess?\u201d\nDick flushed, but contrived to keep his temper.\n\u201cI haven\u2019t quite decided yet. There are two courses open to us. We can\nstay here and keep an eye on Burnnel and Emery, or go back to meet\nCorporal Rand.\u201d\nIn such a mood, Sandy got a good deal of enjoyment in tantalizing his\nfriend.\n\u201cAll right. I\u2019m waiting. Why don\u2019t you guess?\u201d\nDick looked about him in desperation. Then gradually out of his\nperplexity there sprang a solution to his difficulty. It came like the\nsudden glimmer of inspiration.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll have to do both,\u201d he stated positively.\n\u201cHow?\u201d\n\u201cSeparate.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t quite understand.\u201d\n\u201cOne of us can go back to meet Corporal Rand, the other two remain here\nto watch Burnnel and Emery.\u201d\nSandy rose from his place on the fallen tree, grinning a little\nsheepishly.\n\u201cNow you\u2019re talking. Why didn\u2019t you think of that before? Which one of\nus will go to meet the corporal?\u201d\n\u201cYou can go if you like, Sandy,\u201d said Dick with great magnanimity.\n\u201cNo, no; I wasn\u2019t thinking about that. You\u2019d better go, Dick. You\u2019re the\none that thought of it.\u201d\nDick shook his head.\n\u201cI think I\u2019d rather stay here, if you don\u2019t mind.\u201d\n\u201cJust as you say.\u201d\nSandy was really pleased.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a bargain, then, unless Toma\u2014\u201d\n\u201cI like stay here, too,\u201d declared Toma.\nThe three boys were grouped together, facing each other. For the time\nbeing, they were off guard. Not that they had felt at any time during\nthe past few moments that danger really threatened them. Although still\nfairly close to Meade\u2019s road-house, they weren\u2019t troubled about Burnnel\nand Emery just then. Even if the two prospectors had seen them when they\nrode up, it was extremely unlikely that they would attempt anything\nuntil they had fully rested. Immediate pursuit was a thing that had not\nentered the boys\u2019 calculations, and yet\u2014\nDick\u2019s first intimation of an attack, or even of the presence of an\nenemy, came when he beheld Toma\u2014apparently for no reason at all\u2014leap\nstraight back, like a deer surprised in its forest haunt, and plunge\nheadlong into a willow thicket. Sandy\u2019s behavior was equally puzzling.\nSandy sat down. He sat down on the seat he had just vacated and stared\nwildly past Dick, both eyes and mouth open wide. Whirling about, Dick\nblinked and caught his breath. A familiar pair confronted him.\n\u201cDon\u2019t move,\u201d said a heavy voice. \u201cWe got yuh!\u201d\nFrischette\u2019s road-house was quiet. A casual passer-by, threading his way\nalong the shadowy forest trail, a trail arched by the branches of tall\npoplar trees, might have thought that the place was deserted. There was\nno sign of life anywhere, although a door and several windows stood\npartially open. A young Indian, who approached the familiar landmark,\nwas struck by an overwhelming feeling of presentiment.\nThe morning was well advanced and yet there was no evidence of life\nhere. No smoke issued from the tall mud-chimney, which rose like a bleak\nsentinel at one side of the building. Sitting on the projecting end of\nthe center ridge-pole, a hawk basked in the sun. Intense quiet reigned,\na funereal silence, that was broken only by the faint rustling of the\nleaves and the nervous stirring of the tall grass, which encroached up\nto the door of the cabin itself.\nToma rubbed one hand across his brow wearily. For four hours he had\nwalked steadily with this place as his objective, and in the hope of\nfinding his friend, the mounted police corporal. He knew that Rand ought\nto be here. That had been their agreement, the understanding between the\npoliceman and the three boys.\nWhen he had approached to within thirty or forty yards of the house,\nToma\u2019s spirits fell. He was sure now that the road-house was untenanted.\nNo occupied dwelling, he reasoned, could be wrapped so deeply in that\ntragic, sombre silence. The door stood invitingly open, yet Toma knew\nbefore entering that no person recently had left it thus. He paused on\nthe threshold, staring into the room. It seemed to mock him. Except for\nthe few bare furnishings, it was entirely empty. With a quaking heart\nand a trembling step, he passed through the main front room to the\nkitchen at the back.\nNo one was about. In the kitchen there had been stacked up, on a long\nwork-table opposite the stove, a pile of dirty, unwashed dishes. He\nglanced at them casually, then passed on out of the back door and made\nhis way over to the stable. Like the cabin, the stable was unoccupied.\nDisconsolately, Toma walked over and, climbing up, sat down on the top\nrail of the six-foot-high corral fence.\nHe didn\u2019t know what to make of it all. The absence of Corporal Rand\nmight, of course, be accounted for. But what about Fontaine and Le\nSueur, his two friends? Since the death of Frischette, these two last\nnamed young men had taken over the management of the road-house. They\nhad entered upon their duties with a good deal of enthusiasm, and it\nseemed unusual that they should both be away now, neglecting their\nbusiness.\nIt was true, of course, that summer visitors were few. The bulk of\nFrischette\u2019s trade had come during the early fall and winter and just\nbefore the spring break-up. However, even if there were no guests at the\nroad-house, there was always the chance that one might come\u2014an\noccasional straggler\u2014and it was not reasonable to suppose that both\nFontaine and Le Sueur would leave the place for any length of time.\nYet, that was exactly what they had done. They were neglecting their\nbusiness. Toma scowled at the ground, and one moccasined foot beat an\nimpatient tattoo along the surface of the rail beneath him. He decided\nafter a time that, low on supplies, they had gone over to Fort Good\nFaith to replenish their larder. But the absence of Rand was not so\neasily explained, unless he was out searching for Burnnel and Emery.\nShaking his head, Toma hopped down off the corral fence and strode back\nin the direction of the house. This time he had a purpose in mind. He\nwould enter the kitchen and prepare himself a belated breakfast. He had\nnot eaten since early the night before and was tremendously hungry. He\nentered the kitchen, kindled a fire in the large iron cook stove and\nmethodically set about his task.\nIn the middle of his preparations he paused, pricking up his ears. Had\nhe heard something\u2014a slight scraping sound? He stood perfectly still,\nlistening patiently. Then, as the sound was not repeated, he decided\nthat he had been mistaken. He returned to his task, and in a short time\nbreakfast was ready. He set a place for himself on the table in the\nadjoining room, and was returning to the kitchen for his rasher of bacon\nand pot of coffee, when he heard the sound again.\nThis time there was no doubt in his mind. He had heard aright. The sound\nissued from the room which had formerly been used by Frischette for his\noffice and private sleeping apartment. It was the only room in the house\nthat he had not explored. He bounded quickly forward, seizing the knob\nof the door. He bent his weight against it.\nHe stood back, scratching his head in perplexity. It was locked.\nSomething or someone was inside there. He called out softly. But,\nalthough he imagined he heard the faint, scraping sound again, no voice\nanswered him.\nToma was not long in deciding upon his course of action. He hurried into\nthe kitchen, passed through the door at the back, picked up a small log,\nabout four feet in length and six inches in diameter and, returning with\nit, he applied himself to the door.\nAt the first blow from his heavy battering-ram, the lock gave way. A\nsplintering and cracking of wood, and the door swung back. Looking\ninside, Toma dropped his battering-ram.\nClosest to the door, lay Rand, gagged, bound hand and foot. A few feet\nfarther on, sprawled the youthful figures of his two friends, Fontaine\nand Le Sueur.\nFollowing a little gasp of amazement, Toma strode into the room.\nBurnnel and Emery had appeared so unexpectedly before the boys, opposite\nMeade\u2019s road-house, that resistance was useless. Dick and Sandy had no\nchance, whatever, to raise a hand in their defense. Of the three, Toma\nhad been the only one at all fortunate. His sudden leap backward into\nthe brush made possible his escape, but Dick and Sandy were powerless.\nThe young Scotchman, shrinking with terror, still sat on the fallen\ntree, while Dick, no less overcome with fear, stood motionless, as the\ntwo men drew closer, flourishing their guns. Emery\u2019s face was malignant\nbut triumphant.\n\u201cSo you thought you\u2019d bust into our little game, eh?\u201d he snarled, as he\nrelieved Dick and Sandy of their revolvers. \u201cYuh thought yuh was pretty\nsmart back there at Creel\u2019s a few days ago, didn\u2019t yuh? Well, yuh can\npay fer that now. Time we get through with yuh, yuh won\u2019t be so willin\u2019\nto meddle in somebody else\u2019s business.\u201d\nDick found his voice.\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t harm you.\u201d\nEmery\u2019s scowl darkened. He was on the point of making some sarcastic\nreply, but Burnnel cut in sharply:\n\u201cSave your gab, both o\u2019 yuh. Too bad that other feller got away.\u201d\nDick hoped that their captors would take them back to Meade\u2019s\nroad-house. It would be the best thing for him and Sandy. Their chance\nof getting away would be better. They would feel safer there. Meade, no\ndoubt, would interfere and gain their release.\nSandy had sunk into deep and utter dejection. He recalled, with little\nshivers of apprehension, the treatment which had been meted out to Creel\na few days before. He was not buoyed up by any false hopes. He could see\nin Burnnel and Emery\u2019s actions only an effort at reprisal\u2014revenge for\ntheir previous humiliation. Unlike Dick, he did not believe that they\nwould be taken back to Meade\u2019s road-house. In fact, such a thought had\nnever entered his mind. The partners were too shrewd for that. No, he\nand Dick would be mistreated and tortured merely to satisfy their\ncraving for revenge. Besides, it would not suit Burnnel and Emery\u2019s\npurpose to be encumbered with two prisoners. They had other business to\nattend to.\nAnd, in a way, Sandy was right. Shortly after the boys had been relieved\nof their guns, Burnnel straightened up, his mouth twisted in a venomous\nleer.\n\u201cTurn out your pockets,\u201d he ordered.\nThe boys obeyed hastily, their hands nervous and trembling. Emery stood\nover them, watching like a hawk, seizing from one or the other the\nmiscellaneous assortment of things that were brought to light. Dick, who\nhad acted as treasurer for the three boys, was relieved of a roll of\nbills and a handful of silver. Burnnel\u2019s eyes lighted with satisfaction\nat sight of the money, but his partner only grunted. Soon the boys had\ncompleted their task. Their pockets had all been emptied.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the poke?\u201d\nDick stared incredulously.\n\u201cPoke? Why\u2014why\u2014what do you mean?\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t yuh try tuh look so blame\u2019 innocent. Yuh got it, one o\u2019 yuh.\u201d\n\u201cLook here,\u201d said Dick hotly, \u201cyou know where that poke is\u2014in Corporal\nRand\u2019s possession. You had it yourself on two different occasions. Why\ndidn\u2019t you keep it?\u201d\nBurnnel advanced threateningly.\n\u201cEnough o\u2019 that! Yuh know what I mean, a\u2019 right. We want what was in\nthat poke an\u2019 we want it quick.\u201d\n\u201cBut see here,\u201d protested Dick, \u201cwe haven\u2019t anything. I tell you, we\nhaven\u2019t. We don\u2019t even know what was in the poke in the first place.\u201d\nBurnnel and Emery exchanged glances. Then, indignantly, the little man\naddressed the other:\n\u201cThere, what\u2019d I tell yuh. It\u2019s plain they ain\u2019t got it. I was right.\nIt\u2019s Creel!\u201d\nThe huge bulk of Burnnel stood like a statue. Since questioning Dick, he\nhad not moved, except to turn his head in his partner\u2019s direction. Now\nhis chin was bent forward, resting upon his expansive, barrel-like\nchest. To all appearances, his partner\u2019s assertion had given him food\nfor thought, required deliberate and careful consideration. In a moment\nhe raised his eyes again, glancing at Emery. With the fingers of one\nhand he scratched the stubble on his pocked, scarred face.\n\u201cHow do yuh know that? You\u2019re jus\u2019 guessin\u2019. I\u2019d as soon think these\nboys had it as Creel. Fact is, it\u2019s a hull lot more likely. How do we\nknow that this here young tomcat didn\u2019t empty the poke t\u2019other night\nright after we left an\u2019 afore Frischette comes along an\u2019 grabs it?\u201d\nEmery darted a quick, insolent, sarcastic glance at his huge\nconfederate.\n\u201cI don\u2019t believe it. Creel\u2019s the one what\u2019s fooled us. Fooled us in the\nfirst place there at his cabin. It\u2019s all your fault, too. Yuh never\nlooked in that poke. An easy mark you are,\u201d he declared scornfully,\n\u201clettin\u2019 him put it over yuh like that.\u201d\nBurnnel snarled like a bear in a trap. Emery perceived that he had gone\ntoo far. His next words were placating, almost a whine.\n\u201cNow look o\u2019 here, Bob, yuh don\u2019t need to get huffy. I think you\u2019re\nwrong an\u2019 I\u2019m goin\u2019 to stick to it. The only reason I said I\u2019d come over\nhere tuh question these brats was all on your account. I wanted yuh to\nbe satisfied, tuh see fer yourself. We\u2019re jus\u2019 wastin\u2019 time. The thing\ntuh do is tuh go back, pick up that blame\u2019 squaw an\u2019 see if we can\u2019t run\nthat worthless ol\u2019 rat tuh earth.\u201d\nBurnnel hated to admit that he was in the wrong, and in order to cover\nhis chagrin and disappointment, he flew into a violent rage and for a\nperiod of nearly two minutes cursed wildly and furiously. As he did so,\nhe paced back and forth, huge fists clinched, swinging his arms\nviolently. With a final snarl, he cuffed Dick across the head, sending\nthe young man reeling back dizzily. His large moccasined foot, swinging\nup, brushed Sandy\u2019s thigh. Then he seized Emery by the shoulder.\n\u201cCome on! Let\u2019s get out o\u2019 here!\u201d\nThe little man\u2019s head jerked back with a snap. He, too, became furious.\nThey were still cursing and storming at each other as they disappeared\nfrom view.\nThe boys could scarcely believe their good fortune. They had not\nexpected to escape from the encounter with so little injury. They had\nnot even been taken prisoners. Their only loss had been that of their\nmoney and their revolvers\u2014a thing which troubled them little. Meade,\nDick was quite certain, would willingly help them out, as soon as they\nexplained their predicament.\nOf course, they couldn\u2019t go back to the road-house until Burnnel, Emery\nand the woman had taken their leave. Tonight they must remain in the\nwoods, sleeping out under the trees. Also they must find Toma.\nThrough the blue, enveloping twilight, they wandered hither and thither,\ncalling out his name. For hours they searched in vain. In response to\ntheir repeated halloos, no cheery answer came. The deep silence drew in\naround them.\n\u201cHe\u2019s gone for help,\u201d Sandy decided, flinging himself down on a soft\ncarpet of moss and pine-needles, and looking up anxiously into Dick\u2019s\nface.\nHis chum sighed wearily.\n\u201cYes, he must have gone back to Frischette\u2019s in the hope of meeting\nRand. But you may depend upon it, he\u2019ll give a good account of himself.\u201d\n\u201cToma\u2019s a trump,\u201d said Sandy, closing his eyes and speaking drowsily. \u201cI\ncouldn\u2019t help but admire the way he leaped for that thicket at the first\nsound from Burnnel and Emery. He\u2019s quicker than we are. Pretty hard to\ncatch him off guard.\u201d\n\u201cAnd yet,\u201d answered Dick, \u201cI can\u2019t understand why he didn\u2019t linger in\nthe vicinity. That would have been more like him. Waiting and watching\nfor a chance to get the drop on them, and then rescuing us. Just\nthrilling enough to suit him. Funny he didn\u2019t do it.\u201d\nSandy sat up, smiling.\n\u201cI think he left his gun behind\u2014over there at Meade\u2019s. I\u2019ll bet he was\nprovoked. He must have decided that the best thing to do was to hurry\nback to Frischette\u2019s and rush Corporal Rand to our assistance.\u201d\nAlthough the days were warm, the nights were invariably cool. It would\nnot be pleasant to sleep out without blankets. Nor was it possible to\nstart a fire. Every article they possessed, including a box of matches,\nhad been taken by the two outlaws.\nThey slept but ill. Mosquitos buzzed about them in swarms. They kept up\nan incessant fight with these vicious pests, shivering on their bed of\nmoss, waking every few minutes to wonder if morning would never come.\nSomewhere around three o\u2019clock, they rose and made their way back in the\ndirection of the road-house. It was too early yet to think about\ndisturbing any of its occupants. Burnnel and Emery would still be there,\nand they had no wish to meet them again. Hungry as they were, and\nsleepy, they realized that it would not be advisable to approach the\ncabin until after the outlaws had departed.\n\u201cWhen we get something to eat, and borrow a rifle or two from Meade,\u201d\nsaid Dick, \u201cI suppose we\u2019ll have to trail on after them.\u201d\nSandy glanced at Dick sharply.\n\u201cBut don\u2019t you think we ought to wait for Toma and Corporal Rand?\u201d\n\u201cIf we do, we\u2019ll be apt to lose trace of them, just as we lost trace of\nCreel. You must remember that we\u2019ll have to follow them on foot. They\nhave horses.\u201d\nSandy said no more, lapsing into a moody silence. The mosquitos\ncontinued to buzz around their heads. But no longer was it cool. The\nsun, an hour high, shed its warm rays to every part of the land. The\nmoisture, caused by the dew, was soon evaporated. Day had commenced.\nYet they waited a long time before they were rewarded for their\npatience. Smoke curled upward from the rough mud-chimney at the\nroad-house. Now and again, they could see someone walking about outside.\nAnother long wait, and they breathed a sigh of relief. Three mounted\nponies came out around one end of the cabin and headed down the trail. A\nfew minutes more, and they were out of sight.\n\u201cThank goodness!\u201d Sandy breathed thankfully, parting the screen of brush\nin front of him and stepping out into the open. \u201cI thought they\u2019d never\ngo. Come on, Dick\u2014breakfast!\u201d\nDick hurried after Sandy, and it was not long before they pushed open\nthe door of the cabin and entered. Meade was there, and at sight of\nthem, sprang to his feet. He came forward quickly.\n\u201cWhere in the name of Old Harry have you boys been? We missed you last\nnight; looked everywhere. I wondered if you hadn\u2019t gone suddenly crazy.\u201d\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t want to meet Burnnel and Emery,\u201d explained Sandy.\n\u201cYou mean those two men, who stopped here last night?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nMeade whistled. \u201cWhy not?\u201d\nStammering out something, Sandy looked at Dick. His chum returned the\ngaze, then stared straight into the eyes of the pleasant-faced free\ntrader.\n\u201cWell, I guess it won\u2019t do any harm to tell you. Those two men, who\nstopped here last night, are in some way implicated in the Dewberry\ncase. Corporal Rand went out with them yesterday to the place where\nFrischette was found. They were under police surveillance. Apparently,\nthey have escaped. Those two ponies that they were riding belong to us.\nWe had met Burnnel and Emery before and thought there might be trouble\nif they saw us. So we left.\u201d\n\u201cAnd it was a good thing we did,\u201d Sandy cut in. \u201cAs it was, they\nfollowed us, shortly after their arrival here, and came upon us\nunexpectedly. They took our revolvers and all the money we had. Toma\nescaped. Then they came back here.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you\u2019ve been out there in the woods all night?\u201d Meade inquired\nsoftly.\n\u201cYes, we have, Mr. Meade,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cand we\u2019re mighty tired and\nhungry.\u201d\nToma had never seen Corporal Rand in a rage before. The corporal\u2019s face\nwas flushed with anger and his expressive blue eyes snapped. As yet the\nyoung Indian had received no explanation of how the policeman and his\ntwo friends had been made prisoners. He had been too busy to question\nthem. Besides they had been in no condition to talk. The first\nintelligible word from any of them had been:\n\u201cWater!\u201d\nNone of the three could stand. Locked in that hot stifling room, their\nsuffering had been terrible. For more than an hour Toma had administered\nto them, chafing their limbs, bringing them water, making them more\ncomfortable. After that, he had been compelled to hurry back to the\nkitchen to prepare a meal for them. Cared for in this fashion, their\nrecovery had been rapid. Soon all, except Le Sueur, were able to stand\nand to limp about the room.\nIt was then that Toma noticed the policeman\u2019s anger. His lips were\npressed together tightly, his hands were clinched. The nails of his\nfingers dug into his palms.\n\u201cHow it happen you get tie up in that room?\u201d Toma asked, his sober dark\neyes gravely regarding the policeman.\n\u201cBurnnel and Emery.\u201d The answer came short and terse, with no attempt at\nelaboration.\n\u201cHow they do that?\u201d\n\u201cI had them locked up here,\u201d Rand pointed to the room, \u201cwhen that woman\ncame.\u201d He paused, while a slow flush of shame mounted to his bronzed\nforehead. \u201cIt was she, MacGregor\u2019s wife, who did it, Toma. Came riding\ninto the corral, just as I was preparing to start. I led my horse back\ninto the stable and went over to question her. You see,\u201d Rand explained,\n\u201cI knew her\u2014\u2018Rat\u2019 MacGregor\u2019s wife. Wondered why she had come here,\nToma. Surmised, of course, that she was up to some mischief. But I was\nwholly unprepared for her treachery.\u201d\nThe corporal paused again and the flush deepened.\n\u201cWhat she do?\u201d inquired Toma.\nThe policeman\u2019s mouth set in a straight hard line.\n\u201cPulled a gun on me without warning and without provocation. I didn\u2019t\nhave a chance. I knew she\u2019d use it. Fontaine and Le Sueur came out of\nthe house and she got the drop on them too. Marched us back to the\nroad-house and forced us to release Emery and Burnnel.\n\u201cAs soon as Emery and Burnnel were released, they took charge. We were\nthrown into the room, bound, gagged, and the door was locked.\u201d\nThe corporal paused again, moistening his dry lips.\n\u201cBut that isn\u2019t all, Toma. I have still to tell you about\u2014about\nInverness. My horse! In my position, lying on the floor, I had a view\nthrough the window, and those fiends,\u201d Corporal Rand choked, \u201cbrought\nInverness around and shot him before my very eyes. After that I saw them\ndrag him away. They came back again and I caught a glimpse of them as\nthey rode off: Burnnel astride Sandy\u2019s horse, and Emery riding Dick\u2019s,\nthe woman bringing up the rear on her own pony.\u201d\nToma\u2019s face had grown dark with suppressed emotion.\n\u201cBad thing they shoot your horse, corporal.\u201d\nThe deep lines about the policeman\u2019s mouth tightened. The pupils of his\neyes were like two steel points, hard, glittering. It was not difficult\nto see what most aroused his ire. Rand could accept, without\ncomplaining, the indignities offered to his own person. Not so,\nregarding his horse. He loved the animal. Through weary, lonesome days\non patrol, it had been his only friend and companion. A strange\nattachment had grown up between them. Almost any time, Rand would gladly\nhave sacrificed his own life to save that of the fiery little steed.\nThe wilful, deliberate shooting of this horse was the cause of the\ncorporal\u2019s anger. In his heart, he had sworn revenge.\n\u201cYou see, Toma,\u201d his voice was strangely calm, \u201che meant a lot to\nme\u2014Inverness. I\u2014I hated to see him go. Poor old fellow! I could see his\npleading look, when they brought him over opposite the window, and he\nlooked in and saw me.\u201d\nUnbidden, a tear came into the corporal\u2019s steely eye and trickled down\nhis cheek. He rose from his chair and strode to the door.\n\u201cWhy they shoot your horse like that?\u201d Toma wanted to know.\n\u201cTo insure their escape,\u201d the policeman answered, not turning his head.\n\u201cIf I were released, it would be necessary to follow on foot.\u201d\nHe turned quickly upon Toma.\n\u201cHow did it happen,\u201d he asked, \u201cthat you came on alone? Where are Dick\nand Sandy?\u201d\n\u201cBurnnel and Emery get them jus\u2019 like they get you. Almost get me, too,\nbut I jump away from them. I come on here because I think mebbe you go\nback an\u2019 help.\u201d\n\u201cYou did well, Toma. Where did this happen?\u201d\n\u201cNear the place where keep \u2019em house that free trader.\u201d\n\u201cMeade?\u201d\nThe Indian nodded.\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t far from here,\u201d said Rand. \u201cWe\u2019ll start at once.\u201d\nIn admiration, Toma drew in his breath. Well he knew the agony the\npoliceman must endure from his limbs, still swollen, as the result of\nthat terrible ordeal. Notwithstanding this, he proposed to start out as\nif nothing had happened. It was nearly twenty miles back along the trail\nto Meade\u2019s Ferry. Twenty miles with legs like that! Twenty miles through\nthe stifling heat of that summer\u2019s day\u2014and over a rough trail!\n\u201cYou think you do that?\u201d he asked, his mouth agape.\n\u201cI can do it,\u201d declared Rand simply.\nAnd not long afterward they were on the trail, the policeman walking\nwith a pronounced limp, yet keeping abreast of his more agile companion.\nMosquitos drove around them in clouds. The hot breath of the sun-steeped\nearth rose up about them. It was tedious work, a gruelling, unpleasant\nexperience.\nYet the corporal did not complain. When he spoke at all, it was to joke\nor jest, to comment lightly upon some phase of their journey. And with\neach passing minute, his limp grew more pronounced. He was hobbling now\nupon swollen, blistered feet.\n\u201cWe better stop rest,\u201d Toma advised him.\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Rand, clenching his teeth, \u201cwe\u2019ll go on. It can\u2019t be much\nfarther now. Just a few miles more.\u201d\nSo they went on again, a weary, perspiring pair. Though Toma suffered no\nparticular physical discomfort, he endured mental torture as he watched\nthe policeman keep pace with him. He could have cried out with\nthankfulness, when at last, through an opening in the trees, he\ndiscerned the low, rambling structure, which served the double purpose\nof store and road-house.\nA short time later they entered the building itself and were greeted by\nthe kindly free trader.\n\u201cGlad to see you, corporal. The boys were expecting you.\u201d\n\u201cWhere are they now?\u201d\n\u201cThey\u2019ve gone on.\u201d\n\u201cAnd Burnnel and Emery?\u201d\n\u201cThe boys are camping on their trail.\u201d\nCorporal Rand looked very much surprised and turned upon Toma.\n\u201cI thought you said that the boys had been taken prisoners?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d nodded Toma.\n\u201cWell, how can that be?\u201d\n\u201cI can explain it all,\u201d Meade laughed. \u201cDick and Sandy were taken\nprisoners, all right, but were released a few minutes later. They slept\nout last night in the open, returning here shortly after the three set\nout\u2014Burnnel, Emery and the squaw.\u201d\n\u201cHow did the boys travel?\u201d Rand asked.\n\u201cI lent them two ponies.\u201d\n\u201cGot any more?\u201d\n\u201cNot another one, corporal. I have only the two. One is mine and the\nother belongs to my son, Frederick. But where is your own horse,\ncorporal?\u201d\nThus reminded of his loss, Rand\u2019s face became grim again.\n\u201cThey shot it. Back at Frenchie\u2019s road-house. That\u2019s why I\u2019ve come on\nfoot.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you\u2019re almost crippled,\u201d said Meade, who had observed the\npoliceman\u2019s limp.\n\u201cI can manage somehow.\u201d\n\u201cNot until you\u2019ve doctored up those feet,\u201d Meade declared kindly.\nRand flung himself down in an easy chair, motioning to Toma also to be\nseated.\n\u201cYou\u2019d better rest while you can, Toma. We\u2019ll go on again in a few\nminutes.\u201d\nMeade had grown thoughtful.\n\u201cI\u2019ve an idea,\u201d he announced at length, \u201cthat I can get two horses for\nyou over at Bonner\u2019s Lake from a half-breed there. This man has a herd\nof ponies he keeps for Spring and Autumn freighting. They\u2019re feeding on\nthe range now and I\u2019m sure he\u2019ll accommodate me.\u201d\nMeade smiled, puffing stoutly on his pipe.\n\u201cI\u2019ll send my son, Frederick, over there,\u201d he resumed. \u201cIn the meantime,\nyou can rest here. He won\u2019t be long.\u201d\nThe kind offer was accepted. In truth, the corporal\u2019s limbs were so\nbadly swollen from the effects of the thongs and the hard trek\nimmediately after being released by Toma, that he doubted very much\nwhether he could walk more than a few miles more, anyway.\n\u201cI won\u2019t forget your kindness,\u201d the policeman thanked him. \u201cIt\u2019s very\ngood of you.\u201d\n\u201cNot at all! Not at all!\u201d Meade hastened to assure him. \u201cI\u2019d do that\nmuch for the Royal Mounted any time. I\u2019ve heard about the case you\u2019re\nworking on, corporal, and I\u2019m anxious to have you succeed. Dewberry was\na friend of mine.\u201d\nRand looked up quickly.\n\u201cThat\u2019s interesting. So few men really knew Dewberry. Queer character,\nfrom what I\u2019ve heard.\u201d\n\u201cA splendid man,\u201d Meade declared reverently. \u201cA generous and fine man!\u201d\n\u201cWhile your son, Frederick, is away after the horses, I wonder if you\u2019ll\ntell me what you know of him. It has been very difficult to gather any\ninformation concerning him. It might help a lot in this case if you\u2019d\ngive me a clear insight into his character. There are a number of things\nI can\u2019t explain.\u201d\nFrederick was called and sent after the ponies. Then Meade sat down and\nbegan telling about his friend, the mysterious Dewberry. It was a story\nvery similar to the one he had told Dick and Sandy. Rand listened\nwithout once interrupting, and Toma also paid close attention until,\ngrowing drowsy, he fell asleep in his chair. When he awoke again, Meade\nwas still talking, but now occasionally the policeman plied him with a\nquestion.\nToma yawned, rose to his feet and stalked over to a window. Looking out,\nhe was surprised to see the free trader\u2019s son already returning with the\nhorses.\n\u201cThey come,\u201d announced Toma. \u201cThe ponies are here.\u201d\nCorporal Rand smiled and nodded at Toma, but\u2014a thing the young Indian\ncould not understand\u2014seemed more interested in the conversation than in\nthe arrival of the ponies. Nevertheless, a moment later Rand rose and\nhobbled to the door. Meade followed him. They went out ahead of Toma,\nand, as they did so, the policeman remarked:\n\u201cYour talk has been a revelation. I\u2019m beginning to see a little light.\u201d\nLong afterward, when he and the corporal were out on the trail, Toma\nstudied over that statement. What did Rand mean by that? Hadn\u2019t he\nalways seen the light?\nThen he shook his head and gave up in despair. For Corporal Rand, as\nToma was well aware, had never had trouble with his vision.\nBurnnel, Emery and Rat MacGregor\u2019s wife set a hard pace. They led Dick\nand Sandy far afield and it was seldom that the boys ever came in sight\nof them. It was plain that the prospectors intended to force their\nhorses to the limit in an attempt to overtake the fleeing recluse.\nThe trail led south. It was a well known trail, much travelled,\nespecially in the Spring and Fall of the year. Then, to the boys\u2019\namazement, the outlaws suddenly left it, striking off southeastward\nthrough a country infrequently visited. For a long time Dick and Sandy\ncould find no reasonable explanation for this, but, finally, the younger\nof the two boys, brooding over the strange conduct of the outlaws,\noffered an opinion.\nThey were crossing a broad meadow at the time, exerting their ponies to\nrenewed effort. Through the thick, waving grass ahead, almost waist\nhigh, was the faint track made by Burnnel\u2019s party.\n\u201cI know now,\u201d Sandy\u2019s voice was excited. \u201cI\u2019ve solved the mystery.\u201d\n\u201cWhat mystery?\u201d\n\u201cThe reason why they went this way. It\u2019s a shortcut, Dick. The main\ntrail, if you happen to remember, turns straight east about fifty miles\nsouth of here. Burnnel and Emery figure that they can head Creel off by\ncoming this way.\u201d\n\u201cYou must be right, Sandy. But I wonder if they\u2019ve stopped to consider\nthat they have a river to cross. It\u2019s a wide one, too, nearly a quarter\nof a mile, I should say. Do you suppose they can swim the horses?\u201d\n\u201cDangerous, but they must intend to try it. It will be interesting to\nwatch them. If they can make it, so can we.\u201d\n\u201cWe ought to arrive at the river some time this afternoon. Hope they\ndon\u2019t see us coming. We must be fairly close to them right now.\u201d\nCrossing the meadow, they entered a grove of poplar, through which they\nmade their way more slowly, emerging, at length, to another meadow,\nsomewhat smaller than the one they had previously crossed. Here they\npaused. On the far side, several miles away, they saw three tiny specks,\nwhich they knew was Burnnel\u2019s party. Not wishing to approach any closer,\nthey rode back to the poplars again, dismounted, staked out their horses\nand prepared their midday meal. At the end of an hour, when they resumed\ntheir journey, they knew there would be little danger of drawing within\nsight of the outlaws.\nSo they pushed on steadily. They left the meadow behind and entered a\nwoodland, which grew thicker as they advanced. The dim trail ahead\nbecame more difficult to follow. Finally, they lost it altogether, but a\nfew hours later the trees thinned out and straight ahead of them, a\nshining, glistening ribbon in the sun, they saw the broad expanse of the\nHay River.\nThey staked out their ponies, and set out on foot to reconnoitre. For\nseveral hundred yards they followed the course of the valley, but could\nfind no trace of the outlaws. However, continuing eastward, they were\nrewarded by the sight of a thin column of smoke, drifting lazily up\nthrough the trees. The outlaws had made camp a few hundred yards below\non the bank of the river. Just now they were engaged, so the boys\nsurmised, in the preparation of a meal.\nDick and Sandy crept closer. Nerves taut, they wormed their way ahead.\nThen Dick touched Sandy\u2019s arm.\n\u201cLook!\u201d he whispered.\nBurnnel and Emery were squatting in front of the fire, indolently\nsmoking their pipes, while MacGregor\u2019s wife busied herself in gathering\nwood, laying out the camp utensils and in other ways making herself\ngenerally useful.\n\u201cLazy brutes!\u201d sneered Sandy. \u201cThey don\u2019t seem to be in much of a hurry.\nDo you suppose they\u2019ll attempt to ford the river this afternoon?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I think so. In spite of their indolence now, they\u2019re anxious to\nget on.\u201d\n\u201cNo use staying here,\u201d Sandy spoke again. \u201cWe\u2019d better get back to our\nponies. We\u2019ll bring them over to the top of the ridge, where I think\nthey\u2019ll be safe enough. There\u2019s little danger that those lazy beggars\nwill climb the slope again.\u201d\nIn returning to their horses, they chose to circle around the outlaws\u2019\ncamp, went down to the bank of the river and moved slowly along,\nconscious of a cool breeze and the close proximity of the water. They\nwere hot and tired and the water looked inviting. Close to the bank it\nwas clear as liquid glass. Here and there were the shadows of whitefish\nand Northern trout. At the bottom of the river was white sand. Every few\nyards or so, projecting up through this white sand, were smooth,\nbrownish-colored rocks that were surrounded by innumerable tiny eddies.\nIn the interest of the moment, the boys almost forgot the grim business\nin which they were engaged. Both had an overwhelming desire to linger\nhere. It was a peaceful, quiet spot. Sandy turned and smiled upon his\nchum.\n\u201cThat water,\u201d he remarked, \u201clooks cool.\u201d\nHe wiped his perspiring brow.\n\u201cI know what you\u2019re thinking,\u201d laughed Dick. \u201cYou\u2019d like to strip and\nplunge in, wouldn\u2019t you? I wish we could.\u201d\nSandy stopped and commenced fanning himself with his hat.\n\u201cWhy not? It will do us both good. We\u2019d be safe enough, I\u2019m sure. They\ncan\u2019t possibly see us from here.\u201d\nDick was tempted. He looked down at the water. A trout flashed up from\nthe cold, clear stream. Only for a moment did he hesitate.\n\u201cAll right. Come on.\u201d\nThey threw off their clothes, racing with each other to see who would be\nthe first to dive in. Sandy won. Both boys commenced swimming about,\ndiving, floating, frolicking in the water to their hearts\u2019 content. So\nabsorbed were they in the refreshing sport, that they became oblivious\nof the passing of time. Had not Sandy chanced to glance across the\nriver, it is probable that they might have forgotten about their\nresponsibilities for at least another hour or two.\nBut in that glance, the young Scotchman had seen something that quickly\nbrought him back to the world of realities. He sprang ashore, calling to\nDick excitedly.\n\u201cLook, Dick! What do you make of that?\u201d One glistening wet arm was flung\nout in front of him.\nOn the opposite side, a few rods up from the water, Dick saw a blob of\nred\u2014something that looked very much like a large strip of flannel,\ncaught against the darker background of green.\n\u201cA red cloth,\u201d answered Dick, only slightly interested. \u201cWonder who left\nit there?\u201d\n\u201cIt moves! It moves!\u201d\nIn spite of the nearness of Burnnel\u2019s party, Sandy almost shouted out\nthe words.\nBoth boys stared, as if under some queer mesmeric spell. They watched\nthe red blob move along the line of brush and disappear with magic\nabruptness. It came back again, however, in a very few minutes\u2014only in a\ndifferent place. Again it remained perfectly stationary, then fluttered\nbehind a rock. In its second re-appearance, it moved toward the brink of\nthe river and, suddenly, instead of being merely a red blob,\nmysteriously it formed itself into the unmistakable outline of a human\nfigure.\n\u201cSome one in a red mackinaw,\u201d declared Sandy, laughing.\n\u201cIn a police tunic, you mean,\u201d Dick corrected him, commencing to hurry\ninto his clothes.\n\u201cWhat! A mounted policeman?\u201d\n\u201cExactly that. Why, you can see his broad-rimmed hat and heavy\ntop-boots.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d like to go over there,\u201d said Dick, \u201cbut if we do, Burnnel and Emery\nwill be sure to see us. We don\u2019t want that to happen. Our best plan is\nto wait until after we ford the river. Then, if he hasn\u2019t already left\nthe vicinity, we\u2019ll find out who he is.\u201d\n\u201cI know one thing,\u201d Sandy declared confidently, \u201cand that is he\u2019s not\nfrom the Mackenzie River detachment.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not so sure. It may be our old friend, Sergeant Richardson.\u201d\n\u201cBut that territory, over there across the Hay, is patrolled by men from\nthe Peace River Detachment,\u201d Sandy objected.\nDick rose quickly to his feet, hugging himself in sheer ecstasy.\n\u201cI have it! I have it!\u201d he cried. \u201cYou\u2019re right! He\u2019s from the Peace\nRiver Detachment. They received my wire. I\u2019m willing to bet on it. It\u2019s\nsomeone after Creel.\u201d\nFor a time Sandy caught the infection of the other\u2019s enthusiasm but,\nafter mature deliberation, he became more serious again.\n\u201cNo; you\u2019re wrong. The police haven\u2019t had time to come up from Peace\nRiver Crossing since you wired them.\u201d\n\u201cThis man might have been on patrol somewhere between here and the\nCrossing. They probably got in touch with him; wired back, I mean. Sent\nhim out on Creel\u2019s trail.\u201d\n\u201cA possibility, of course. I wonder if we couldn\u2019t signal to him?\u201d\nThe suggestion interested Dick for a time. Then caution warned him that\nit was not a very good plan after all. It might lead to complications.\n\u201cNo, we\u2019d better let things remain as they are. Whatever we do, we\nmustn\u2019t let Emery and Burnnel know that we are here.\u201d\n\u201cVery well, then,\u201d Sandy agreed, \u201cwe\u2019ll go back to our ponies. It\nshouldn\u2019t be long now before the outlaws commence to ford the river.\u201d\nCheered and invigorated, they made their way up the slope, and not long\nafterward came to the place where they had picketed the ponies. Saddling\nand bridling their rugged little mounts, they rode slowly along the\nridge to a point above the outlaws\u2019 camp. Again they tethered out their\nhorses and sat down to wait. It was more than an hour later before the\noutlaws attempted to cross. The sound of splashing came up from below,\npunctuated now and again by sharp voices of the two men.\nThe boys bounded to their feet and scrambled down the steep embankment.\nArriving at the abandoned camp, they observed that Burnnel\u2019s party were\nalready more than a quarter of the distance across the stream. The\nponies were swimming bravely, while the two prospectors and \u201cRat\u201d\nMacGregor\u2019s wife could be seen in the water beside them, clinging to the\npommels of the saddles. It was an exciting ordeal and the boys watched\nthe progress of the party breathlessly. Soon they had reached the center\nof the river, fighting valiantly. Now they were being carried along by\nthe swift central current. Gradually, however, they neared the opposite\nshore. They made their landing safely, a few minutes later, nearly a\nmile downstream. They clambered up the slippery bank, shook then like\nrats, and soon afterward disappeared from view.\nThe boys waited for nearly an hour, before they made any effort to\nfollow. Then, leading their horses down, they, too, plunged into the icy\nstream. Exultant and happy, ten minutes later they waded ashore and\npaused to dry their dripping garments in the hot sun, near the edge of\nthe river.\n\u201cNow,\u201d grinned Dick, \u201cwe\u2019ll look for that policeman.\u201d\nThey mounted their horses and proceeded on their way. But, although they\nkept the river within view, they could find no trace of the red-coated\nfigure they had seen only two hours before. He had vanished\nmysteriously. Fearing that they had proceeded too far down along the\ncourse of the stream, they turned back, mounting the slope. Twilight had\nfallen. The boys were baffled and discouraged. When they made camp for\nthe night, neither had much to say. After supper they sat gloomily,\nlooking out across the valley.\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid we\u2019ve lost out all around,\u201d complained Dick. \u201cWe may have\nsome difficulty in finding Burnnel\u2019s party now. I wish we had left the\npoliceman to his own devices and had gone on after them.\u201d\nSandy struck irritably at the mosquitos swarming about him.\n\u201cThink I\u2019ll start a smudge,\u201d he growled.\nDick rose to his feet.\n\u201cWhile you kindle the fire, I\u2019ll go along the slope and get an arm-load\nof moss.\u201d\nSuiting the action to the word, he started away, walking leisurely. He\nhad gone less than fifty yards, when he drew back, startled. Unless his\neyes had deceived him, he had seen something\u2014a movement in the brush.\nTrembling, he took up a position in the deep shadows, close to a willow\ncopse, straining his eyes through the obscurity.\n\u201cMight be a deer,\u201d he thought.\nHe had really not expected to see a man. Yet a man it was. Creel! Dick\nblinked. The old recluse stood limned in the darkening twilight,\nscarcely twenty feet away. His attitude was that of a hunted beast. His\nlong hair fell over his eyes in straggly disorder, giving him the\nappearance of a madman. His long beard fluttered lightly in the breeze.\nDick\u2019s heart leaped. Creel was coming straight toward him. Cold sweat\nbeaded Dick\u2019s brow. He was shaking as if from the ague. Nearer and\nnearer came Creel. Only a few feet away now\u2014almost upon him!\nThen, suddenly, for no apparent reason, the recluse paused. Dick could\nhear his labored breathing. Some intuitive sense had warned the man of\nimpending danger. For a full minute he remained perfectly still, his\ngaze darting from right to left. He took one step forward cautiously. A\nsecond step. Again he paused. He was so close now, that Dick could\nalmost reach out his hand and touch him. The young man\u2019s mind was\nawhirl, dizzy with conflicting impulses. His quarry within his grasp,\nand yet he hesitated. Why, he did not know.\nThe recluse took one more step and in that instant caught sight of the\ncrouching form. He attempted to turn, one hand struggling at his belt.\nDick lunged forward, catching Creel around the knees, bearing him down.\nThe struggle was short but spirited.\n\u201cNo use,\u201d panted Dick, \u201cI\u2019ve got you!\u201d\nCreel\u2019s struggles subsided.\n\u201cWhat do you want with me?\u201d choked the captive, as Dick pinioned his\narms.\n\u201cThe police are looking for you, Creel,\u201d the other breathed in his ear.\n\u201cThe game\u2019s up. You\u2019ll have to come along with me.\u201d\nSecuring the other\u2019s revolver, Dick rose to his feet.\n\u201cCome on now,\u201d he ordered, \u201cGet up!\u201d\nHe drove Creel ahead of him to the place where he and Sandy had made\ncamp. In the dim light, Sandy saw the approaching shadows, but as yet\nwas unaware of the presence of a third person.\n\u201cDid you bring the moss?\u201d he inquired petulantly. \u201cWhat kept you so\nlong?\u201d\n\u201cSandy,\u201d Dick\u2019s voice quavered, \u201ccome here!\u201d The young Scotchman put\ndown the branch, which he had been breaking into short lengths, and\nstrode forward. His astonishment was unbounded.\n\u201cCreel!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cWhere did you find him, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cOut there,\u201d Dick pointed. Then, turning upon the old recluse: \u201cHand\nover the contents of that poke,\u201d he ordered, pressing his revolver close\nto the man\u2019s chest.\nCreel backed away.\n\u201cI haven\u2019t it,\u201d he whined. \u201cIt\u2019s gone\u2014gone! Release me, I tell you. I\nhaven\u2019t it.\u201d\n\u201cYou had it,\u201d said Dick. \u201cWhat did you do with it?\u201d\n\u201cThey took it,\u201d answered Creel, his voice rising almost to a scream.\n\u201cWho?\u201d\n\u201cBurnnel and Emery. That woman.\u201d\n\u201cWhere did you meet them?\u201d\n\u201cBack there,\u201d the recluse waved one arm. \u201cI came on them unexpectedly.\u201d\nHe shook in his agitation. \u201cWasn\u2019t even thinking about them. I\u2014I\u2014 The\npoliceman\u2014 He was following me. Ever since last night.\u201d\nThe story seemed plausible, yet in order to make sure that their captive\nspoke the truth, they searched his pockets, which proved to be almost as\nbare as their own.\n\u201cDid they take your money too?\u201d Dick demanded.\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cWhere are they camped now?\u201d\n\u201cAbout a mile from here. They turned me loose less than an hour ago.\u201d\n\u201cCreel,\u201d said Sandy, \u201cthere\u2019s one thing I wish you\u2019d explain. What are\nyou doing here so far from the trail?\u201d\n\u201cTrying to get away from that policeman,\u201d came the answer. \u201cI was on my\nway south to Peace River Crossing, when I met him on the trail. He had\nme cornered. He was sitting there on his horse, waiting for me. I could\nsee that. But I gave him the slip. I dropped off my horse and ducked\ninto the thick timber on the left side of the trail. I ran. I was sure\nthat I could get away from him. I knew that no horse could follow me\nthere. But he kept on my trail, and several times that night and today,\nI caught sight of him following me.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s voice broke the next interval of silence. \u201cWhat\u2019s to be done\nnow?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m going over to the outlaws\u2019 camp,\u201d declared Dick with grim decision.\n\u201cBut what will we do with Creel?\u201d\n\u201cYou can stay here and watch him.\u201d\nSandy caught his breath.\n\u201cDo you mean to say you\u2019d tackle \u2019em all alone, Dick? A terrible risk!\nThey\u2019d be sure to get you.\u201d\n\u201cNo, they\u2019ll be too surprised to do anything. They won\u2019t expect me.\u201d\nSandy put one trembling hand to his face.\n\u201cI\u2014I hate to think of it. You\u2019d be all right if only Toma were with you.\nBut alone\u2014\u201d\nHe paused, choking.\n\u201cI\u2019ll set out right away,\u201d said Dick, \u201cand you needn\u2019t worry, Sandy.\nI\u2019ll promise to be careful. I won\u2019t take any more chances than\nnecessary. Perhaps I\u2019ll find them asleep.\u201d\nHe turned to go. Sandy sprang after him, seizing his arm.\n\u201cIf anything happens to you, Dick, I\u2019ll\u2014I\u2019ll feel that it\u2019s all my\nfault. But don\u2019t forget that I\u2019m with you. If\u2014if they should happen to\ntake you prisoner, I\u2019ll manage your release somehow.\u201d\n\u201cI know you will, Sandy,\u201d\u2014in a smothered voice.\n\u201cGood-bye, Dick.\u201d\n\u201cGood-bye.\u201d\nDick stumbled forward through the shadows, his heart beating wildly. A\nmile to Burnnel\u2019s camp. Not far! He\u2019d move cautiously. He mustn\u2019t fail\nnow. Victory was in their hands.\nThe shadows were very dark along the ridge, and far below came the\nmurmur of the river. From its darkened perch, an owl hooted dismally.\n                         A THRILLING EXPERIENCE\nThough only a short distance away, Burnnel\u2019s camp proved to be hard to\nfind. It was darker than usual that night, owing to the fact that the\nsky was overcast. It is doubtful if Dick would have discovered the camp\nat all, had he not, after nearly an hour of beating futilely about in\nthe underbrush, been attracted by the dull red glow of a dying campfire.\nStealing upon his enemies with a quaking heart, he had soon advanced\nwithin the circle of light made by the glowing red embers. Near the fire\nwere stretched the forms of the two prospectors, while thirty or forty\nfeet away lay the woman.\nThe camp slumbered. Conditions could not have been more favorable for\nDick\u2019s project. It would be easy to walk over, gun in hand, and awaken\nthe sleepers. Neither of them would have the least opportunity to offer\nresistance.\n\u201cIt\u2019s dead easy,\u201d Dick argued with himself. \u201cI can\u2019t fail. It\u2019s all as\neasy as A, B, C.\u201d\nYet he hesitated. He had planned his approach and knew exactly what he\nwas going to do and say. But, somehow, it was easier to think about it\nthan to act. Once or twice he started determinedly forward, but as\nquickly checked himself.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what\u2019s the matter with me,\u201d he breathed. \u201cAny minute they\nmay awake, and yet I\u2019m standing here.\u201d\nHe was nervous and shaky; his cheeks and hands were deathly cold. His\nright hand gripped his revolver so tightly that the bones in his fingers\nached. A stricture in his throat made breathing difficult. For the\nsecond time, he took a step forward. The fire was slowly dying out. Its\nsubdued glow was less bright than when he had arrived. If he didn\u2019t act\npromptly he\u2019d be forced to accomplish his purpose in the darkness and\nrun the risk of failure.\nHe was less than twenty paces from the sleeping forms. Moving very\nslowly, it would take less than two minutes to reach the sleeping men.\nHe realized that to hurry over might be fatal to his plans. The faintest\nsound might betray him. He mustn\u2019t snap a single dry twig or brush too\nhurriedly through the tall grass. He couldn\u2019t afford to fail now.\nHe negotiated the distance without mishap. Heart in his throat, he stood\nwith his back toward the fire. Immediately in front of him lay the two\nunsuspecting outlaws. Burnnel snored peacefully, while Emery, lying on\nhis right side, one arm flung out, might have been dead, for all the\nsound he made resting quietly there.\nDick, preparing to shout out to awaken them, checked himself in time. A\ncold sweat broke out upon his body. An obstacle had presented itself.\nWhen he aroused Burnnel and Emery, he would awaken the woman too, and he\nwas too far away from MacGregor\u2019s wife to prevent her escape. Or, what\nwould be more disconcerting or fatal still, she might suddenly determine\nto come to the outlaws\u2019 rescue. No doubt she was armed. Dick\u2019s heart\nbeat wildly against his ribs and a lump rose in his throat, choking him.\nWhat was he going to do?\nHe considered waking the woman first, being as quiet as possible, then\ncoming back for the two prospectors. But he dismissed this idea almost\nas quickly as it had come. Better, far better to start with the outlaws.\nHe dismissed his original plan of shouting out. That would never do. No;\nhe would prod them quietly with his foot until they woke up.\nA distance of several feet separated the two sleepers. He stepped\nbetween them. Burnnel lay flat on his back. Dick stooped over and jerked\nthe big prospector\u2019s gun from its holster, expecting of course, that the\nman would awake. To his surprise Burnnel slept on. So he turned his\nattention to Emery.\nDick now had a gun in either hand. It gave him more confidence. Emery\nstirred, as he prodded him with his foot. He continued until the wiry\nlittle man sat up, rubbing his eyes.\n\u201cA word out of you,\u201d said Dick softly, \u201cand I\u2019ll blow your brains out.\nHand over your gun, butt forward.\u201d\nEmery obeyed. Dick thrust the revolver in his own holster, an awkward\nproceeding because he was compelled to keep his opponent covered.\n\u201cNow,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwake up Burnnel and do it quietly. Get busy!\u201d\nEmery, who evidently was thoroughly frightened, rolled over and shook\nhis partner. The big fellow half-awoke, perceived who was shaking him,\nthrust out one huge arm petulantly and pushed the little man back with\nconsiderable violence.\n\u201cShoot me or not,\u201d snarled Emery, \u201cyuh kin wake him yourself.\u201d\n\u201cWake him up!\u201d Dick\u2019s voice carried a menace.\nThis time Emery succeeded. But the big man was noisy and profane, even\nafter his sleep-stained eyes had caught the glint of Dick\u2019s weapon.\n\u201cKeep quiet!\u201d ordered Dick, almost beside himself with fear. \u201cKeep\nquiet! If you don\u2019t I\u2019ll drill you through and through. Give me the\ncontents of that poke!\u201d\nThe campfire glowed an angry red. In its ghostly light the two\nprospectors turned out their pockets, defiantly. Dick recovered his own\nmoney, watch and the huge roll of bills, belonging to Creel, Toma\u2019s\njack-knife, Sandy\u2019s pocket-compass, and two keys on a ring. The articles\nwere so many and varied that he soon perceived that he would not have\nroom for them about his person. So he compelled Emery to tie them up in\na bundle, flung over his own coat for the purpose. But where was the\ntreasure? Nonplussed, Dick stared from one to the other.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the contents of Dewberry\u2019s poke?\u201d Emery gave Dick a look of\nunutterable surprise\u2014and almost choked. Burnnel laughed scornfully.\n\u201cWe ain\u2019t got it.\u201d\n\u201cWhat have you done with it?\u201d\n\u201cAin\u2019t never had it,\u201d said Emery, choking with laughter.\n\u201cYou lie!\u201d exclaimed Dick hotly. \u201cCreel told me that you took it away\nfrom him.\u201d\n\u201cNo, you\u2019re wrong, pardner. If Creel told yuh that, he was spoofin\u2019 yuh.\nWe ain\u2019t never even seen him.\u201d\n\u201cIf that\u2019s true,\u201d said Dick, white to the lips, \u201chow did you manage to\nget Creel\u2019s roll?\u201d\nNeither of the outlaws attempted to reply. Emery hung his head guiltily.\nBurnnel\u2019s face was averted. Further questioning proved futile. Both men\npersisted that they had taken nothing from Creel except his money.\nAngrily, Dick drove them ahead of him to where the woman lay, still\nsleeping, and aroused her. Then, forcing the three to saddle and lead\ntheir ponies, they made their way back to Dick and Sandy\u2019s camp.\nOn his way back, Dick felt that he had been robbed of a complete\nvictory. His achievement in capturing the outlaws single-handed was\ndarkened by the knowledge that in some unaccountable way Burnnel and\nEmery had contrived to hide Dewberry\u2019s much-sought treasure. He decided\nthat when morning came he would make a more careful search. It was\npossible that he had overlooked its hiding place. It occurred to him\nthat it might be in one of the saddle-packs, or sewed up in the outlaws\u2019\ngarments. At any rate, he would leave no stone unturned until he had\nfully satisfied himself that Creel had lied to him.\nSandy\u2019s joy and astonishment over the safe and successful return of his\nchum were unbounded. He clapped Dick on the back, shouting out his\napproval.\n\u201cIf we\u2019re only careful now,\u201d he cried, \u201cwe\u2019ll soon reach the end of our\nadventures. We\u2019ve won. Won\u2019t Corporal Rand and Toma be pleased when we\nreturn with all these prisoners.\u201d\nFor the remainder of that night neither of the two boys slept. They took\nturn in replenishing the fire and guarding the prisoners. Dick had\nbecome more cheerful and was confident that when morning came they would\nfind the mysterious treasure, which had been responsible for so much\ntrouble and tragedy and waste of human life.\nYet, when morning came, they were destined to be disappointed again.\nThey found nothing. Burnnel and Emery watching them, sneered openly.\nCreel seemed perplexed. Noticing his expression, Sandy questioned him.\n\u201cWhy did you lie to us about the contents of that poke?\u201d\n\u201cI didn\u2019t lie to you,\u201d Creel retorted. \u201cThey\u2019ve done something with it,\nyou may depend upon that.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t bother, Sandy,\u201d Dick exclaimed in exasperation, \u201cyou\u2019re just\nwasting time. We might as well start back. Corporal Rand will know what\nto do.\u201d\nSo, a few minutes later, they set out on their return journey. They were\nforced to travel more slowly than they had come, owing to the fact that,\non the previous day, while attempting to evade the police, Creel had\nabandoned his horse. The boys forced the outlaws to take turn and turn\nabout walking.\nOn the evening of the first day they were treated to a pleasant\nsurprise. Sitting around the campfire, enjoying their evening meal, the\nparty was suddenly made aware of the presence of a stranger. He had come\nup silently and unnoticed. Presently he stood before them, a trim, natty\nfigure, the bright crimson of his police tunic contrasting sharply with\nthe deep green around him. The policeman smiled at their quick start.\n\u201cI\u2019m Constable Wyatt, of the Peace River Detachment,\u201d he announced.\nThe boys sprang to their feet and hurried forward to greet the\nconstable.\n\u201cI\u2019m Dick Kent and this is Sandy MacClaren,\u201d Dick explained to him. \u201cWe\nhave been helping Corporal Rand, who has been working on the Dewberry\ncase.\u201d\nThe policeman smiled.\n\u201cWell, you\u2019ve been more lucky or clever than I have. From all\nappearances, you\u2019ve made a coup. I see you have Creel, the man they\nwired about.\u201d\n\u201cI sent the telegram for Corporal Rand,\u201d said Dick a trifle proudly.\n\u201cI almost had my hands on him on several different occasions. Perhaps I\nwould have taken him eventually if you hadn\u2019t. Who are these others?\u201d\n\u201cBurnnel and Emery, two prospectors, and she,\u201d Dick pointed, \u201cis \u2018Rat\u2019\nMacGregor\u2019s wife. All of them are mixed up in the case, constable. We\nhad reason to believe that Creel had Dewberry\u2019s treasure. Creel claims\nthat Burnnel and Emery took it away from him. Whether or not this is\ntrue, we have been unable to determine. We can\u2019t find it.\u201d\nAnd in a few words Dick related their experience of the previous night.\n\u201cYou say you\u2019ve made a very careful search?\u201d asked Wyatt.\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cThe only thing that I can think of,\u201d hazarded the police constable, \u201cis\nthat Burnnel and Emery hid the treasure somewhere near their camp before\nthey retired for the night.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s possible,\u201d said Dick. \u201cIt didn\u2019t occur to me. Of course, they\nwouldn\u2019t tell us if they had.\u201d\n\u201cNaturally not,\u201d Wyatt smiled grimly.\nOn the following morning they reached the trail and the first habitation\nthey had seen for many, many miles. Here they were able to procure\nanother horse, and thereafter they moved forward more quickly. The next\nday, threading their way along through the cool forest spaces, a turn in\nthe trail revealed two approaching horsemen. Dick and Sandy rose in\ntheir stirrups and waved their hats wildly.\nThe two horsemen were Corporal Rand and Toma.\nTwo days later, on its way north to the Mackenzie River barracks, the\nparty stopped for the night at Meade\u2019s Ferry. After supper Toma, Sandy\nand Frederick Meade went over to the river for an evening\u2019s fishing. The\ntwo policemen and Dick remained behind. Sitting in the large\ntrading-room, they conversed quietly.\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one thing that I regret,\u201d said Corporal Rand, \u201cand that is\nthat we have been unable to recover Dewberry\u2019s treasure.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is this treasure?\u201d Wyatt asked, then turned his head as someone\ncame to the doorway. \u201cYou\u2014Mr. Meade. Step right in. You don\u2019t need to\nhesitate. This isn\u2019t a private conference.\u201d As soon as the free-trader\nhad taken a seat beside him, Wyatt repeated his question:\n\u201cWhat is this treasure?\u201d\n\u201cWe don\u2019t know,\u201d replied Rand. \u201cHowever, it is an established fact that\non the night he was murdered Dewberry had a roll of bills in his pocket\nand a small poke, suspended from a cord tied around his neck.\u201d\nRand paused, reached in his pocket and brought to light a diminutive\nmoosehide pouch or leather sack, which he passed over to his fellow\npoliceman.\n\u201cThere it is. That\u2019s the poke. You see how small it is. Nevertheless, at\none time it contained something of great value. MacGregor risked his\nlife to get it. Frischette or Creel\u2014as I now have reason to\nbelieve\u2014surprised MacGregor in the very act of committing his crime, and\ntook it forcibly from him. Since that night the poke has had an\ninteresting history. Creel kept it in his cabin, but one night he was\nvisited by Emery and Burnnel, who secured possession of it. A few\nminutes later Dick, Toma and Sandy took it away from them. But in the\nend Frischette got it and escaped. The next day his body was found by\nBurnnel and Emery, who reported the news to me.\u201d\n\u201cThey murdered him.\u201d\n\u201cNo, it was suicide. I\u2019m almost sure of that. You see, I found a note in\nthe inner pocket of Frischette\u2019s coat. This note was in Frischette\u2019s\nhand-writing and mentions that he is about to take his own life.\u201d\n\u201cBurnnel and Emery might have forced him to write that note. It might be\na case of murder after all.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve considered that too, Wyatt, but\u2014well, to be frank, I have a\ntheory. My theory is that although this is the poke originally carried\nby Dewberry, its contents were tampered with and a substitution made by\nCreel at his cabin before Burnnel and Emery came. To make my theory more\nclear to you, I\u2019d like to say that I believe that this poke had been\nfilled with something of no value whatsoever. A clever deception on\nCreel\u2019s part. Not only did it fool Emery and Burnnel, but it fooled\nFrischette himself. When Frischette opened the poke, you can imagine his\nrage and disappointment. The treasure was not there. He was a coward at\nheart and dared not return. Hopeless and despondent, he shot himself.\u201d\nCorporal Rand paused to light his pipe.\n\u201cMy theory is strengthened by Creel\u2019s subsequent actions,\u201d the corporal\ncontinued. \u201cWhile I was out on the trail investigating the cause of\nFrischette\u2019s death, he took the opportunity to slip away unnoticed. The\nassumption was that he had started out for Edmonton, or some other\npoint, with Dewberry\u2019s treasure. Burnnel, Emery and \u2018Rat\u2019 MacGregor\u2019s\nwife evidently came to the same conclusion for, after locking me up at\nFrischette\u2019s road-house,\u201d the corporal flushed at the memory, \u201cthey set\nout to follow Creel. If they didn\u2019t suspect him of having the treasure,\nwhy did they follow him? How are you going to answer that question?\u201d\n\u201cYour theory must be correct,\u201d said Wyatt.\n\u201cIt must be,\u201d Meade agreed.\n\u201cIt isn\u2019t my theory particularly. Young Sandy MacClaren came to the same\nconclusion. You have the facts. I needn\u2019t go further into detail. You\nknow what happened over there by the river.\u201d\n\u201cThey cached the treasure somewhere,\u201d declared Wyatt.\nCorporal Rand nodded.\n\u201cIt seems to be the only solution.\u201d\nConversation wandered to other things, and Dick soon lost interest. He\nyawned, rose from his chair and went outside. It was a lovely evening,\ncool and exhilarating. There came to his ears the drowsy sound of the\nforest. Birds peeped, preparing to nestle down for the night. The pine\ntrees droned their incessant chant. Here and there, rabbits scampered\ninto the open, their curious little muzzles twitching inquisitively.\nDick yawned again and stretched his arms above his head. It was about\ntime the boys were coming back. He wondered if their fishing expedition\nhad been successful. Bored with the inactivity, he decided to stroll\ndown toward the river to meet them.\nHe was twenty yards from the cabin when a voice called him back\u2014the\nvoice of Corporal Rand. Quickly he retraced his steps.\n\u201cSorry to trouble you, Dick,\u201d Corporal Rand met him at the door, \u201cbut\nWyatt and I would like to see that bundle of stuff you secured that\nnight from Burnnel and Emery. Where is it?\u201d\n\u201cIn my bunk,\u201d Dick answered, \u201crolled up in my coat. I\u2019ll get it for\nyou.\u201d\nA moment later he secured the bundle, carried it to the table and opened\nit. Wyatt, Rand and Meade gathered in a little circle around him. He\ntook up the objects, one by one, very much after the manner of a person\ntaking inventory.\n\u201cThis is Creel\u2019s roll of money. This is mine. These bills and coins\nbelong to the outlaws. This is my jack-knife and here is Sandy\u2019s\ncompass. This is my watch and this is Emery\u2019s revolver.\u201d\nThere remained a pocket-comb and mirror, a pipe\u2014its bowl somewhat\nbattered\u2014two hunting knives and the ring with the two keys. As Dick\npicked up the last named object, Meade gave vent to a startled cry and\njumped forward.\n\u201cLet\u2019s see it! Let\u2019s see it! Give it to me!\u201d\nDick handed it over.\n\u201cKeys,\u201d said Rand. \u201cWho owns them?\u201d\n\u201cI think they belong to one of the outlaws,\u201d answered Dick.\n\u201cOutlaws!\u201d shrieked Meade, his face distorted. \u201cI should say not!\nThey\u2019re Dewberry\u2019s keys. I\u2019d know them anywhere.\u201d\nA hush came over the room. An old-fashioned clock ticked loudly.\nPresently Meade\u2019s feet shuffled away from the table and he went over and\nsat down. His head dropped in his hands. For several minutes he sat\nthere in deep abstraction. He was thinking deeply. Then, with unexpected\nsuddenness, he bounded to his feet.\n\u201cI\u2019ve solved your mystery!\u201d he shouted.\nThe three other occupants of the room surrounded him in a body.\n\u201cTell us,\u201d cried Rand.\nThe free-trader waved them to their chairs.\n\u201cSit down,\u201d he commanded, \u201cand I\u2019ll tell you all about it. But I must\nbegin at the beginning, so that it will all be clear to you.\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d breathed Rand.\n\u201cDewberry was my friend. I was his guest one time at Peace River\nCrossing. You know where his place is?\u201d He turned to Wyatt.\n\u201cA little cottage on a hill. Overlooks the Hart River,\u201d answered the\npoliceman.\n\u201cHave you ever been inside of it?\u201d\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\u201cWere you acquainted with Dewberry?\u201d\n\u201cI knew him slightly,\u201d said Wyatt. \u201cBut I\u2019ve seen him often enough. An\nunusual character.\u201d\n\u201cExactly. He _was_ queer\u2014queer in many ways. He loved books\u2014scores of\nthem in his book-cases. A violinist and pianist too! But the most\npeculiar thing of all about him was his aversion to human companionship.\nHe had no real friends. He was shy and reserved. Kept to himself. For\nmonths at a time, he would be away somewhere in the foothills\nprospecting. Then he\u2019d return again to Peace River Crossing and become\nabsorbed in his books; or else he\u2019d go out to Edmonton.\u201d\nMeade paused to light his pipe. He puffed reflectively. It was several\nmoments before he resumed:\n\u201cThe minute I laid my eyes on that key-ring with its two keys, I knew\nit. I\u2019d seen it many times before.\u201d\nAs he spoke, Meade exhibited the ring and selected the larger of the two\nkeys.\n\u201cThis,\u201d he informed them, \u201cis the key to the front door of Dewberry\u2019s\ncottage.\u201d\n\u201cAnd the second?\u201d Rand interrupted, unable to check his curiosity.\n\u201cThis key, gentlemen,\u201d Meade held it up and announced dramatically, \u201cis,\nI think, the key to your mystery, the cause of all your trouble. It was\nthe thing that MacGregor wanted when he murdered its owner, that\nFrischette died for, that Creel, Emery, Burnnel and the squaw fought\nover. In other words, unless I am very badly mistaken\u2014and I don\u2019t think\nI am\u2014this key unlocks a large iron chest that stands in the front room\nof Dewberry\u2019s cottage.\u201d\nPeace River Crossing is a growing, bustling town that nestles in the\nbroad, deep valley of one of the North Country\u2019s largest rivers. Until a\nfew years ago, it was a trading post merely, the stamping ground and\nmeeting place of trappers, prospectors and adventurers, who, from\nvarious points along the river, and from the wilderness to the east and\nwest, came here to transact their business or find companionship and\nentertainment.\nAt the time of this story, the Edmonton, Dunvegan & British Columbia\nRailway only recently had been built. Just a few months before his\ndeath, Dewberry had seen the miracle of two lines of steel, supported by\na marvelous system of trestlework, creep slowly into the village.\nSoon after that Dewberry decided that he would go north. Turning his\nback upon his cherished books, he went out, locking the door after him\nfor the last time. The cabin looked very lonely in his absence. Perched\non a hill, overlooking the Hart River, it stood day after day, a sort of\nbleak landmark among the other houses in the village. When the sun was\nbright, and happened to be shining from the right direction, the two\nfront windows blinked and glistened like two large human eyes. Indian\nand half-breed children, playing in the level fields below, would look\nup at them in fear. They were afraid of the house. They were afraid of\nthe man who lived there. Nothing whatsoever could have induced them to\nclimb the rocky path and enter the yard, which just now was overgrown\nwith tall weeds and grass.\nThis fear on the children\u2019s part was shared to some extent by their\nparents. They shunned the cabin. In all the time Dewberry was away on\nthis last trip, probably not more than three persons passed by the\nhouse, and then only because it was necessary to do so. Not until late\nin midsummer, did anyone actually cross the yard and deliberately walk\nup to the door with the intention of entering.\nThat person was Constable Wyatt, of the Peace River Detachment of the\nRoyal North West Mounted Police. He was not alone. Another policeman and\nthree boys accompanied him. The constable strode forward, erect and\ngraceful, jingling a keyring. He selected one key and fitted it into the\nlock. Then he turned, before proceeding further, and smiled at his\ncompanions.\n\u201cThe right one. It will work, I think.\u201d\n\u201cOpen the door,\u201d instructed the other policeman, who stood close behind\nhim, and appeared to be either eager or impatient.\nThe key grated in the lock and the door creaked, as Wyatt turned the\nknob and pressed his weight against it. Five pairs of eyes stared into\nthe room. One of the boys\u2014the youngest of the three\u2014drew in his breath\nsharply.\n\u201cGreat Scott! Books! Look at \u2019em\u2014just look at \u2019em, Dick! A thousand or\nmore!\u201d\n\u201cA piano too,\u201d said Dick. \u201cBut where\u2019s the chest?\u201d\nThe small party crowded into the room. A heavy odor assailed their\nnostrils. The place was stuffy and close. The blinds, which hung over\nthe closed windows, shut out most of the light. Not until these blinds\nwere raised and a window or two flung up, did any of the party do more\nthan to give the room a curious inspection.\n\u201cAccording to Meade,\u201d Rand spoke calmly, \u201cthe chest ought to be\nsomewhere in this room.\u201d\nNo chest was visible. Eyes darted here and there, questioningly. Wyatt,\nSandy and Dick hurried into the adjoining room to continue the search\nthere. Corporal Rand sat down, while Toma still remained in almost the\nidentical position he had taken up when he had first entered the house.\nAt one side of the room a heavy fur overcoat lay in a wrinkled heap upon\nthe floor. Four feet above it, a long wooden peg projected from the\nscored surface of a log. The inference was that the coat had slipped off\nthe peg at some time or other and that Dewberry, either through\noversight or neglect, had failed to hang it back in its accustomed\nplace.\nFor a short space the young Indian gazed at the garment and then at the\npeg. His eyes lit perceptibly. Something told him that the overcoat had\nnot fallen to the floor from that sturdy peg, and, besides, there was a\nsuspicious bulge\u2014something underneath. With an amused chuckle, he darted\nforward and lifted up the coat. The chuckle died in his throat. He\nstepped back.\nThe chest was there!\nCorporal Rand\u2019s sharp exclamation drew the others quickly. They were\ncrowded around him and Toma, looking down with bated breath at an iron\nbox, covered with fantastic scrolls and figures, embellished and\nornamented with metal rosettes and a fret-work of bronze. Neither Dick\nnor Sandy had ever seen anything quite like it. It was not an ordinary\nchest. It looked old\u2014hundreds of years old\u2014yet it was neither battered\nnor broken, nor in any way scarred or defaced. Beautiful though it was,\nits beauty produced a strange effect upon them. A malevolent influence\nseemed to emanate there.\nTwo feet high, three feet in length, approximately twenty in breadth\u2014the\niron box stood there and seemed to defy them. Its workmanship was\nsuperb. Dick guessed that it was of foreign origin, probably Oriental.\nHe shivered a little as Wyatt gave the key-ring to Corporal Rand and\nmotioned to him to stoop down and open the chest.\nRand\u2019s fingers fumbled with the ring. A hollow scraping sound followed\nthe insertion of the key, and, having turned it, the cover\u2014fitted with a\nhidden, powerful spring\u2014sprang open so quickly that its outer edge\ncaught the policeman on the point of the chin and threw him back amongst\nhis astonished companions.\nDazed, the corporal scrambled back to a position on his knees and stared\nin bewilderment at the chest. There was not a great deal to see. Within,\nthe chest was fitted with a thin metal lid, which completely hid\neverything below. On the inside of the cover, however, was pasted a\nheavy label, upon which was the following writing:\n\u201cTREASURE CHEST.\u2014Exhumed in September 1843 from the ruins of an ancient\ntemple discovered by Sir George Pettibone, English explorer, near\nKaifeng, in the province of Honan, China. Believed to date back to the\n\u201cWonderful!\u201d exclaimed Dick, when Corporal Rand had finished reading.\n\u201cIt is wonderful,\u201d breathed Wyatt. \u201cIt would be interesting to know how\nit came into Dewberry\u2019s possession.\u201d\nSandy was impatient. He had pushed closer to Corporal Rand and was\nlooking down at the chest over the policeman\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cI can hardly wait until you remove that lid,\u201d he broke forth. \u201cWhy\ndon\u2019t you lift it up, corporal?\u201d\nGingerly, Rand placed a thumb and finger in two round holes in the lid\nand tugged gently. Slowly, an inch or two at a time, it came up,\nrevealing an interior space taken up by six square trays of\nsandalwood\u2014any one of which contained a fortune.\nGold! Treasure! The boys caught their breath. There came a concerted\nrush around the box. Exclamations of amazement. Not only gold here\u2014but\nprecious stones. Diamonds! Sapphires! Blood-red rubies! Platinum in\nrings and bars. Gold dust! Curios! Priceless antiques! Nuggets!\nSandy and Dick were shouting and exclaiming like maniacs. Wyatt and\nCorporal Rand were talking in excited tones. Toma, less interested than\nany of them, after a curious, puzzled glance into the interior of the\nchest, backed away, grunting out something under his breath.\nIt was Sandy, who presently discovered that the trays were removable,\nthat underneath them was a shallow compartment, three or four inches in\ndepth, completely filled with letters and papers and documents of\nvarious kinds.\n\u201cHere!\u201d he shouted, holding it up. \u201cA book! Must be very valuable or\nDewberry wouldn\u2019t keep it in here.\u201d\nHe passed it on to Corporal Rand, then turned again and, with Dick\u2019s\nassistance, began replacing the trays. The contents of these were, to\nthe boys, of far more importance and interest than anything else\nconfined within that ancient, mysterious receptacle. Again they fell to\nexamining the treasure.\nThey were so absorbed in this delightful pastime, that they were wholly\nunaware of what was taking place in the room behind them. The two\npolicemen had drawn up chairs and were sitting opposite each other,\ntheir faces alight. Wyatt, who leaned forward eagerly, was listening to\nRand. Rand flipped the pages and read out of the book:\n\u201cNovember 20, 1908.\u2014This is my second trip out to Edmonton this year.\nToday I met Professor B\u2014, of the University of Alberta, who promised to\nsecure for me a first edition of Thackeray\u2019s _Vanity Fair_. Will send to\nVincent\u2019s at Montreal. Ought to have it here next time I come down.\nProfessor B\u2014 is generous and kindly. Knowing of my interest in antiques,\nhe sent me, with a letter of introduction to a Mr. Lipton, a private\ncollector, who occupies a suite of rooms at the King Edward. I enjoyed\nthis visit and induced Mr. Lipton to part with a very valuable cameo.\u201d\n\u201cInteresting,\u201d remarked Wyatt. \u201cGo on!\u201d\nCorporal Rand flipped several pages and resumed:\n\u201cMay 6, 1909.\u2014Spent the better part of this week around the head-waters\nof the Finley. Gruelling work, but I love it. The mosquitos are savage,\npersistent little brutes, and only the fine mesh of my new net, with the\naddition of a pair of gloves, saves me from being sucked dry. I\u2019ll need\nwhat blood and energy I have to complete my work here. Have been looking\nfor the famous Crystal Lode, which old Dave Crystal found somewhere near\nhere in 1890 and subsequently sold, \u2018unsight, unseen,\u2019 to Ben and Gordan\nWilson, who have never been heard from since.\u201d\nA slight pause while Rand cleared his throat and turned more of the\npages.\n\u201cDecember 2, 1911.\u2014I\u2019m happy tonight. This afternoon Lipton agreed to\nsell me that wonderful Chinese chest. I paid him two thousand dollars\nfor it without once blinking an eye. At that, I\u2019m lucky to get it.\nLipton wouldn\u2019t have parted with it for twice that sum eight months ago.\nI\u2019m afraid he\u2019s been buying so much real estate that he\u2019s short of cash.\nWhatever his motive, I\u2019m exceedingly grateful to him.\u201d\nWyatt slid forward in his chair.\n\u201cYes! Yes!\u201d he exclaimed excitedly. \u201cRead on.\u201d\n                        LEAVES FROM AN OLD DIARY\nDick and Sandy turned from their inspection of the treasure.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that you\u2019ve been reading?\u201d Sandy demanded.\n\u201cDewberry\u2019s diary.\u201d\n\u201cIs that the book I handed you a few moments ago?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d the answer came from Corporal Rand. \u201cI believe it will prove of\ninvaluable assistance to us in this case.\u201d\nThe corporal still held the book in his lap, and seemed loath to\ndiscontinue its perusal. The excerpts he had read aloud to Wyatt had\nstill further excited his curiosity, a curiosity which was shared by the\nother policeman. The man from the Peace River Detachment consulted his\nwatch.\n\u201cIt\u2019s only three o\u2019clock, Rand,\u201d he pointed out. \u201cWe still have plenty\nof time at our disposal. I\u2019d enjoy hearing more from that book. Why not\ncontinue, corporal?\u201d\nRand turned the pages at random, his keen blue eyes glancing over the\ncontents. In a clear, musical voice he continued:\n\u201cNovember 12, 1912.\u2014Why is it that my chest from Honan continues to\nfascinate me? Sitting here at home this evening, my thoughts dwelt upon\nit. Twice I opened it and removed the trays, one by one, with the rapt\ninterest of a child; removed them and placed them on the floor beside\nme. How indescribably bare it looks. I\u2019m sure it wasn\u2019t like that during\nthe Ming dynasty.\n\u201cNovember 17, 1912.\u2014Today I finished reading Marco Polo\u2019s wonderful\nnarrative. Very naturally, it turned my thoughts to the chest. I\u2019m\nobsessed with a whimsical fancy. My chest, I am quite sure, was at one\ntime the depository for the jewels and wealth of the great Ming himself.\nI visualize all those mysterious compartments overflowing with the\ntreasure from seven seas. This one contained diamonds; this one rubies;\nthis one sapphires and emeralds. In the remaining trays there are\nquantities of silver and gold. Just to heighten the illusion, I have\nplaced the contents of three pokes in one of the trays. Then I locked it\nup. I, too, shall have my treasure.\u201d\nCorporal Rand ceased reading. Dick and Sandy laughed.\n\u201cQueer old duck, wasn\u2019t he?\u201d Dick commented. \u201cWell, I don\u2019t know as I\nblame him any. It is mysterious.\u201d\nCorporal Rand did not reply. He turned a few pages idly, then read\nagain:\n\u201cJune 2, 1913.\u2014I have found the Crystal Lode. Could scarcely believe my\ngood fortune. Came upon it more by accident than design. Tremendously\nrich. Here and there, I found evidences of the workings of old Dave\nCrystal. Will be compelled to keep this a secret. Took out over a\nthousand dollars yesterday.\u201d\n\u201cWhew!\u201d gasped Sandy.\nRand was excited too. He turned the pages more quickly.\n\u201cOctober 1, 1914.\u2014I\u2019m back at the Crossing earlier than usual this year.\nBrought a good deal of gold with me. Raced it in the chest. It will soon\nbe filled to overflowing. The depository of the great Ming has come into\nits own.\n\u201cNovember 10, 1914.\u2014Lipton would smile if he knew what I was up to.\nToday\u2014the third since my arrival in Edmonton\u2014I converted nearly eight\nthousand dollars worth of gold from the Crystal Lode into precious\nstones. The jewelers here must think I am mad. Almost overnight, I have\nchanged my vocation. In place of being a collector of rare old books and\nantiques, I have become a connoisseur of gems.\n\u201cNovember 12, 1914.\u2014Professor B\u2014 of the University of Alberta, had lunch\nwith me at the Cecil Hotel. Our talk was on various subjects but finally\nI led him, rather adroitly, I think, to a topic which, at present, is my\nall-absorbing passion. Did Professor B\u2014 know anything about jewelry,\nprecious stones? He did. I have yet to touch upon a subject he is not\ninterested in. During our conversation, he happened to mention casually\nthat the Dalton\u2019s, who are very wealthy people here, possess what is\nundoubtedly the most valuable sapphire in this country. I think I must\nhave pricked up my ears at this information. During the rest of the day,\nI could think of nothing else. Perhaps tomorrow I shall pluck up enough\ncourage to go and see Dalton.\n\u201cNovember 13, 1914.\u2014The Dalton sapphire is mine. Paid forty thousand for\nit. Dalton is not an agreeable person to deal with. I almost came away\nwithout it. Was forced to draw on my account at the Bank of Montreal.\nDalton demanded a certified check and made a number of pertinent\ninquiries over the telephone. In spite of his haughty manner, he must\nneed the money. Didn\u2019t even offer to shake hands with me at parting.\u201d\nRand closed the book, pointing at the chest.\n\u201cIt\u2019s easy to see now where he got those things. For years he\u2019s been\nconverting the gold from the Crystal Lode into precious stones.\u201d\n\u201cMerely to satisfy a whim,\u201d smiled Wyatt.\nA moment later Rand resumed reading:\n\u201cAugust 8, 1915.\u2014What an inconceivable ass I am. Yesterday in some\nunaccountable manner, I lost my note-book. I have been in the habit,\nwhile away on these prospecting trips, of writing each day\u2019s events in a\nnote-book, and later copying them in my diary at home. Hope no one ever\nfinds it. \u2018My thoughts are precious things\u2019 and I wouldn\u2019t care to have\nsome fool laughing over them. Also, I fear that in the book I made\nmention of the chest. Worse luck!\u201d\nA sudden silence followed the reading of this last excerpt. Then Wyatt\nrose to his feet and began pacing up and down the floor.\n\u201cThat has a direct bearing on this case,\u201d he announced suddenly.\n\u201cMacGregor must have found that note-book\u2014or Creel or Frischette.... Any\nof those scoundrels. It\u2019s the only possible way they could have learned\nof the existence of this chest and the two keys Dewberry carried with\nhim. I am as sure of that as I am that I am standing here.\u201d\n\u201cExtremely likely,\u201d admitted Rand.\n\u201cOf course. And if we can determine which one of those men found the\nnote-book, we\u2019ll have some valuable evidence.\u201d\n\u201cIt may force a confession from them,\u201d said Rand. \u201cJust before we came\ndown here, as you remember, Inspector Cameron endeavored to\ncross-examine them. It was useless. Well, I haven\u2019t lost hope that we\nmay succeed next time. I\u2019ll take this diary with me.\u201d\n\u201cMay I look at it?\u201d requested Sandy, holding out his hands.\n\u201cWhat about the treasure?\u201d asked Dick. \u201cWhat will we do with the chest?\u201d\n\u201cOur inspector will attend to that,\u201d answered Wyatt. \u201cProbably will be\nremoved to the new Bank of Commerce, just recently established here.\u201d\n\u201cThere are two likely places, where one might find that note-book,\u201d\nmused Rand, \u201c\u2014at Creel\u2019s and Frischette\u2019s.\u201d\n\u201cWe can stop at both places on our way back,\u201d suggested Dick.\n\u201cA good idea. Then there\u2019s MacGregor\u2019s shack too, I\u2014\u201d\n\u201cListen to this,\u201d interrupted Sandy, waving one arm about excitedly.\nIn his haste to open it, the diary slipped from his trembling fingers\nand fell to the floor. Picking it up, he experienced some difficulty in\nfinding the right page again. The others waited impatiently. Finally,\nSandy read:\n\u201cSeptember 28, 1915.\u2014The first heavy snow of the season has come early\nthis year. Imagine my surprise this morning to wake in a blinding snow\nstorm. It is driving me away from the Crystal Lode. After breakfast, I\nmade haste to set out with my two pack-ponies, and arrived at Carson\u2019s\ncabin shortly after two. I have always made it a point to stop at\nCarson\u2019s whenever possible. They are friendly people. Mrs. Carson is an\nIndian, but exceedingly pleasant and well educated. A cook too! I can\u2019t\nunderstand why a couple like that should be afflicted with such hopeless\noffspring. Their daughter, about fifteen, is vicious, while their son,\nReynold, two years older, is a young cutthroat, if ever there was one.\nThis afternoon I found him in my room, quite brazenly going through my\nthings. It caused me to wonder if, after all, Reynold doesn\u2019t know\nsomething about that lost note-book. I recall that I stopped here just\nthe day before I discovered it was gone.\n\u201cSeptember 29, 1915.\u2014I am almost sure that Reynold has it. Today he was\ncopying something out of a book\u2014a black leather note-book\u2014that looked\nsuspiciously like mine. He rose when he saw me and beat a hasty retreat.\nI can\u2019t accuse him openly just yet, but when I come back this way in the\nspring, I intend to lay a trap for him. That young scoundrel really\nought to be put in jail, although I am afraid I never would have the\ncourage to do it myself. It would break both Mr. and Mrs. Carson\u2019s\nhearts.\u201d\nSandy paused.\n\u201cHave you finished? Is that all?\u201d\nIn his eagerness, Corporal Rand stepped over behind the young Scotchman\nand looked down at the open book.\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered Sandy, \u201cit is not all. Here is another paragraph, dated\nSeptember 30\u2014just a day later.\u201d\n\u201cI purposely remained at Carson\u2019s one more day. Thought I might be able\nto keep an eye on Reynold, catch him again with the book and this time\npositively identify it. Unfortunately for me, nothing happened. Carson\nsent his son out with an armload of traps in the forenoon, and after\nlunch, two prospectors, Emery and MacGregor, stopped for an hour or two\non their way east to Fort Good Faith. Carson introduced both men and we\nconversed for a few minutes. Can\u2019t say I liked either one. If I were\nforced to choose a person to hang me, I think I\u2019d name MacGregor.\nEmery\u2019s face is too vile\u2014even for a hangman\u2019s.\u201d\n\u201cUgh!\u201d Dick\u2019s voice trembled. \u201cIf only he had known!\u201d\n\u201cOctober 1, 1915,\u201d Sandy read on. \u201cI can scarcely believe it yet.\nPerhaps there is a redeeming trait in the boy after all. At any rate,\nReynold came to me this morning, as I was preparing to leave, and gave\nme my book. I was so astounded that I simply stood staring at him.\nAccording to his story\u2014which, of course, I accepted, although I knew it\nwas a lie, \u2018trembling unto heaven\u2019\u2014he had found the book after my last\nvisit here. He found it in my room, he explained, \u2018just where I had\ndropped it.\u2019 I breathed a sigh of relief that was almost a gasp, thrust\nthe accursed thing hastily into my pocket and departed thence\u2014_sans_ two\nnuggets (worth about twenty dollars) which I had given him as a reward\nfor his honesty.\u201d\n\u201cThe brat!\u201d choked Wyatt.\n\u201cYes,\u201d stormed Rand, \u201cthat young scoundrel concocted a devil\u2019s mess\nindeed. He\u2019s the one that ought to be hanged for Dewberry\u2019s murder.\u201d\n\u201cBut why?\u201d Dick asked innocently.\n\u201cWhy? Can\u2019t you see. It\u2019s as plain as the nose on your face. He copied\nthe contents of the note-book and gave it to Emery and MacGregor.\u201d\nSeveral weeks had passed. They were back in the North Country again\u2014all\nexcept Wyatt. Outside the door of the trading room at Fort Good Faith,\nSandy and Toma were bidding Corporal Rand and Dick good-bye, and wishing\ndevoutly that they too might have been permitted to accompany the\npoliceman on this\u2014the last stage of a memorable journey.\nDick had been more than fortunate, they considered, in receiving\nofficial sanction to be in at the finish. He had earned this privilege,\nto be sure, but for that matter, hadn\u2019t they? For weeks now they had\nbeen pursuing what had at first appeared to be a phantom. The phantom\nhad taken form. The mystery had been uncovered. Step by step, day by\nday, slowly and inexorably events had moved to an ultimate end. The\nguilty were about to be punished. A few more things to do, then\u2014\n\u201cHang it all,\u201d thought Sandy, \u201cthe real work is over anyway. I\u2019ve done\nmy part. They can\u2019t say I haven\u2019t. This case is run to earth. What\nlittle excitement remains, Dick is welcome to. Toma and I both need a\nrest.\u201d\nThus philosophically dismissing the matter, he and Toma went fishing;\nand Corporal Rand and Dick made their way on horseback to the foothills,\narriving at the Carson cabin one evening before dusk.\nMrs. Carson met them at the door. She smiled her greeting and led the\nway into the house. A sort of motherly person, Dick thought.\n\u201cI hadn\u2019t expected anyone at this time of the year,\u201d she told them\nlaughing, at the same time brushing back a dark wisp of hair that had\nfallen over her kindly forehead. \u201cI\u2019m afraid you\u2019ll find everything in\ndisorder. We\u2019ve been drying saskatoons for the winter. Mr. Carson is in\nthe kitchen helping now. He\u2019ll come right in.\u201d\nTrue to his wife\u2019s prediction, Mr. Carson came right in and, looking at\nhim, Dick became heartily sick of the whole business. Carson was the\nsort of man one couldn\u2019t help but like instantly. A much older man than\nDick had expected, yet agile enough in spite of the white crown of hair,\nand handsome in a dignified way. He shook hands and took a seat\nopposite.\n\u201cEveryone is welcome here. You\u2019re tired, I expect.\u201d\n\u201cAnd hungry,\u201d Corporal Rand amended.\n\u201cMrs. Carson will soon attend to that,\u201d her husband smiled. \u201cShe\u2019ll have\nsomething ready in a few minutes. Have you come far?\u201d\n\u201cFrom Fort Good Faith.\u201d\nA girl appeared in the open doorway, having come noiselessly, and stood,\nstaring at them. The young lady mentioned in Dewberry\u2019s diary, Dick\nsurmised. She continued to stare as the now somewhat bashful young man\nstole a glance in her direction, then quickly dropped his gaze.\n\u201cGertrude,\u201d expostulated her father, \u201cthat isn\u2019t nice. Either come\nforward and be introduced or return to the kitchen. My daughter,\u201d he\nexplained, turning his head and speaking to Rand. Gertrude made a wry\nface, shrugged her pretty shoulders and returned to the room, where her\nmother was preparing the evening meal. Her place was immediately usurped\nby a tall youth, older than Dick, who took up the business of staring\nwith considerably more energy and effect, adding a dark scowl or two for\ngood measure. As this was the young man he and Corporal Rand had come\nall that way to interview, Dick lost no time in giving him a careful\nappraisal.\nReynold Carson\u2019s appearance was not prepossessing. He resembled neither\nof his parents. Unlike his sister, he was not good-looking. His mouth\nturned down at the corners. An unpleasant habit of scowling had etched\ntwo deep lines across his narrow forehead.\n\u201cA young cutthroat and no mistake,\u201d mused Dick, remembering Dewberry\u2019s\nverbal picture of him.\nIt was not until after supper that Rand stated his errand. All except\nMrs. Carson were in the room. The boy and girl sat in one corner and\nconversed in low tones. Rand and Carson had pushed back their chairs\nfrom the supper table and had lit their pipes.\n\u201cCame over from Fort Good Faith,\u201d said Rand, endeavoring to keep his\nvoice steady, \u201cto see your son. There\u2019s a certain matter Mr. Carson,\nthat I\u2019d like to discuss with him. It\u2019s important.\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes\u2014\u201d Carson removed his pipe and seemed to exhale the words with\nthe smoke. \u201cReynold\u2014\u201d he trembled. \u201cWhat\u2014what has he done?\u201d\nThe policeman placed one hand on the old man\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cI\u2014I hate to do this. I wish it wasn\u2019t necessary to tell you. You\u2014you\nunderstand my position. It\u2019s hard for me\u2014hard for all of us.\u201d\nDick choked and turned away his head. His heart had gone out to this\npoor old man, and he just _couldn\u2019t_ look at him now. And then, too,\nthere was the boy\u2019s mother. Thinking about her\u2014 It was terrible! She\nmustn\u2019t come into the room. She mustn\u2019t hear what Rand was saying.\n\u201cIt\u2019s in connection with Dewberry\u2019s murder. Indirectly your son is\nimplicated. I\u2014I\u2014\u201d\nCarson shrank back in his chair, threw up his hands in front of his face\nand moaned in misery\u2014in terror. Reynold, who had heard his name\nmentioned, and perceived his father thus afflicted, got unsteadily to\nhis feet and came stumbling across the floor, glaring at Rand.\n\u201cWhat you doing to dad?\u201d he demanded.\nCarson sat up, endeavoring to get a better grip of himself. Almost\nfiercely he turned upon his son.\n\u201cReynold, you\u2019re in trouble. The police have come for you. What have you\ndone? Speak up, boy; speak up! My God!\u2014this will kill your mother.\u201d\n\u201cHe lies! He lies!\u201d stormed the boy. \u201cI\u2019ve done nothing. He lies!\u201d\nThe corporal held up his hand, commanding silence.\n\u201cSit down, Reynold\u2014and keep quiet. You probably don\u2019t know what it\u2019s all\nabout\u2014yet. Listen to me. Answer my questions. No! Don\u2019t try that,\u201d he\nwarned, as Carson\u2019s son reached for his knife. \u201cSit down!\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re lying,\u201d whimpered the boy, taking a chair next to his father.\n\u201cReynold, I wish you wouldn\u2019t say that,\u201d pleaded the old man. \u201cHe may be\nmistaken, but\u2014but he isn\u2019t lying.\u201d\n\u201cI haven\u2019t done a thing,\u201d protested the boy.\n\u201cPerhaps you\u2019ve almost forgotten the incident,\u201d Rand cleared his throat,\n\u201cbut there was a note-book. You found a note-book belonging to Dewberry.\nIsn\u2019t that right?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d Reynold acknowledged. \u201cI did.\u201d\n\u201cI remember that too,\u201d said Carson brightening a little. \u201cReynold said\nhe found it in Mr. Dewberry\u2019s room. The prospector had\u2014had mislaid it, I\nbelieve.\u201d\n\u201cI gave it back to Dewberry,\u201d stated the young man defiantly. \u201cYou don\u2019t\nthink I stole it, do you? I gave it back to him.\u201d\n\u201cQuite right,\u201d said Rand. \u201cBut is that all?\u201d\n\u201cAll! O\u2019 course, it is. What you tryin\u2019 to insinuate?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m trying to insinuate,\u201d the policeman was very deliberate in his\nchoice of words now, \u201cthat you read the book, copied something out of it\nand afterward sold that copy to two men\u2014Emery and MacGregor. You did\nthat, didn\u2019t you?\u201d\nReynold seemed to sink into his chair. His lips were white. Either he\ncould not or would not answer. Feeling faint, Dick looked out of a\nwindow. Shadows were falling everywhere outside. The trees were black\nsilhouettes. Night was shaking out its mantle from a metal-colored sky.\nThere was no brightness or radiance anywhere except a single orange\nstreak in the west, a sinister orange streak that marked the place where\nthe sun had gone down.\n\u201cIf he doesn\u2019t confess,\u201d thought Dick, \u201cand have this over with, I\u2019ll go\ncrazy.\u201d\nA voice, trembling but defiant, broke across the silence.\n\u201cYes, I did do that. What was wrong about it? Tell me\u2014what was wrong\nabout it? I didn\u2019t commit no crime\u2014 It wasn\u2019t a very bad thing to do\u2014you\ncan\u2019t make me believe that. Just sold a copy of something that was\nwritten in that old book.\u201d\n\u201cReynold!\u201d cried the old man. \u201cReynold!\u201d\n\u201cListen, dad, it wasn\u2019t so terrible wrong. I didn\u2019t touch anybody an\u2019 I\ndidn\u2019t steal nothing. All I did was to sell what was in that book to a\nfew men for just a few dollars.\u201d\n\u201cTo a few men!\u201d gasped the corporal. \u201cWho\u2014beside Emery and MacGregor?\u201d\n\u201cI sold one copy one day when Dewberry was here\u2014before I gave him back\nthe book. I made a second copy, but I didn\u2019t sell it for months\nafterwards. Dad and I had a quarrel and I ran away. I played cards and I\nlost money\u2014all I had. I tried to sell the copy. I showed it to a few\nmen, but they laughed at me. Then one night, when I was at a road-house\na queer looking chap, named Crane, gave me ten dollars for it.\u201d\n\u201cAre you sure his name wasn\u2019t Creel? Stop and think a moment.\u201d\n\u201cCreel! Creel! That\u2019s it.\u201d Reynold looked at the policeman in surprise.\n\u201cHow did you know?\u201d\n\u201cI found out,\u201d answered Rand.\n\u201cSo you see, dad, it wasn\u2019t anything so very terrible,\u201d Reynold ran on.\n\u201cCan you repeat what you copied from the book?\u201d Rand interrupted.\n\u201cNo, not word for word. It was something about an old chest that\nDewberry had at his home at Peace River Crossing\u2014full of money; about a\nkey that he carried around his neck.\u201d\n\u201cWould you remember if I read it to you?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I would,\u201d answered the boy.\nCorporal Rand crossed the room, knelt down, and opened his saddle-pack.\nA moment later he returned, carrying Dewberry\u2019s diary, resumed his seat,\nand began thumbing the pages. It was several minutes before he found the\nright place. Then he read:\n\u201cMay 13th, 1915. That chest is an obsession. Even out here in the\nwilderness away from it, it seems to haunt me night and day. Sometimes I\ncall myself a doddering old fool. To buy it was a waste of money, an act\nof folly. That were bad enough, but this thing I have been doing lately\nis madness itself. In a thousand years, if God gave me that long to\nlive, I could never restore that chest to its original glory and\nsplendor. I\u2019m sure that I haven\u2019t put into it one infinitesimal part of\nthe wealth and treasure that he did. If he were living now, Ming would\nlaugh my diamonds and rubies and emeralds to scorn. I\u2019m afraid he\u2019d\nspurn my gold too. Cheap stuff! Trash! Where I have thousands he had\nmillions. Folly to pit the Crystal Lode against the resources of an\nempire. Yet here I am, walking about with the key around my neck, trying\nto emulate an emperor.\u201d\nCorporal Rand closed the book.\n\u201cIs that what you copied?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s it,\u201d answered Reynold.\n\u201cI wonder if you realize what you\u2019ve done,\u201d Rand spoke softly. \u201cWhen you\nsold those copies you signed Dewberry\u2019s death warrant. You must have\nknown that one of those men, to whom you sold that information, would\ntry to obtain Dewberry\u2019s treasure.\u201d\n\u201cI didn\u2019t think much about it,\u201d the boy declared doggedly.\n\u201cDewberry is dead. MacGregor murdered him. It\u2019s your fault. MacGregor\nnever would have murdered him, if\u2014if it hadn\u2019t been for you. I want that\nfact to sink in. You know now why I\u2019ve come to get you.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll be hanged,\u201d blubbered the boy.\nRand walked over and put his hand on the young man\u2019s shoulder.\n\u201cNo\u2014not that. We\u2019ll do what we can for you. You have a wonderful father\nand mother. For their sake\u2014and for your own\u2014we\u2019ll be as lenient as\npossible.\u201d\nThe young man\u2019s body shook with sobs.\n\u201cHush! Hush!\u201d whispered Carson, wiping away his own tears. \u201cI think I\nhear your mother coming.\u201d\nCreel was the first to confess. Sitting in the office of the commandant,\nin the presence of Inspector Cameron, Corporal Rand, Reynold Carson and\nDick, he poured out his story. Confronted by Carson, who identified him\nas being one of the men to whom he had sold Dewberry\u2019s secret, Creel saw\nthat only the truth could help him. His deep-set eyes glowed dully. He\nmoistened his lips.\n\u201cIt\u2019s true,\u201d he began. \u201cFrischette and me robbed Dewberry. Took his\nmoney and his poke. For months, we\u2019d been waiting our chance. Dewberry\nstopped at the road-house several times, but nearly always it was during\nthe middle of the day. Usually he\u2019d hit our place about noon and stay\nnot more than an hour. He preferred to go on and spend the night with\nMeade, who was his friend.\u201d\nThe sun, shining in through the window, bothered the old recluse and he\nhitched back his chair. Not until he became comfortable again did he\nresume:\n\u201cOur chance come finally. Dewberry, delayed in a storm, drifted in one\nafternoon late\u2014about four o\u2019clock. He hadn\u2019t time to make Meade\u2019s that\nnight. It was a cold day and miserable. A blizzard out. You could\nscarcely see ahead o\u2019 you. I was surprised when Frischette come over and\nnotified me that Dewberry was there. I hadn\u2019t expected to stir out of my\ncabin. I didn\u2019t want to walk back through the storm with him, but\nFrischette said it was the best time for our plan, that we\u2019d have to\nstrike that night if we ever intended to. After while I agreed and we\nwalked over and I hid in Frischette\u2019s room.\n\u201cNeither one of us had any idea that that man MacGregor was playing the\nsame sort o\u2019 game as us. He was stopping at Frenchie\u2019s that night, along\nwith a lot of others, and, of course, we thought nothing of it. You see,\nwe was sure that we was the only ones \u2018in\u2019 on the secret. We had got the\ndope from the kid and had made our plans.\u201d\n\u201cWas a part of your plan to kill Dewberry?\u201d Inspector Cameron\ninterrupted.\nCreel nodded.\n\u201cWasn\u2019t any other way our plan would work out. We simply had to do it.\nWe was compelled to put Dewberry out of the way, else he\u2019d sound the\nalarm and prevent us from getting into his cabin at Peace River\nCrossing.\n\u201cAbout nine o\u2019clock Frischette come into the room where I was, bringing\nmy supper. Then the two of us sat there talking. We had decided that it\nwasn\u2019t much use to try to do anything until along about midnight. So we\nwaited there in the dark. When the bunk-hall began to get a little quiet\nwe stopped talking ourselves for fear we might keep someone awake. It\nwas exactly twelve by my watch, when we stole out of that room.\u201d\nCreel paused reflectively, his eyes half closed. He remained motionless\nand silent so long that Dick began to wonder if the man had lost his\npower of speech. Suddenly he sat up straight in his chair and continued:\n\u201cWe was both in our stocking-feet and we moved as quiet as ghosts\nbetween the rows of sleepers. Nobody could have heard us. Men was\nsnoring all around us. It was dark in the room, almost black, but we\nknew exactly where to go. All the details had been planned out in\nadvance. Yet, as I said before, we hadn\u2019t figured on MacGregor, and on\nthat account we nearly got tripped up. We didn\u2019t know nothing about him\nuntil we was directly over him.\u201d\nAgain Cameron interrupted: \u201cDirectly over him? What do you mean? Had you\nmade a mistake and gone to MacGregor\u2019s bunk instead?\u201d\n\u201cNo! No!\u201d the old recluse spoke impatiently. \u201cHe was on his knees,\nstooping over Dewberry, with the poke and money in his hands. Dewberry\nwas dead!\n\u201cMacGregor hadn\u2019t even heard us come up. I was carrying a knife in my\nright hand and I pushed it against his throat. I whispered that if he\nmade a sound I\u2019d kill him. In fact, I thought I would anyway. I was so\nfrightened I could hardly stand on my feet. But if I was frightened,\nMacGregor was worse than that. He was frozen like a block of ice. I\ndon\u2019t think he had more than strength enough to hand over the poke and\nthe roll of bills. After that we took him back into the kitchen and told\nhim we would give him his life if he\u2019d promise to leave the place at\nonce and make no effort to get back the poke.\u201d\n\u201cHe was glad of the chance, I guess,\u201d a smile twisted Creel\u2019s lips. \u201cWe\nwere pretty sure that we\u2019d never see him again. We weren\u2019t afraid that\nhe\u2019d squeal, because he was the one that had committed the murder. Our\nhands was clean. Things had worked out better than we could have planned\nourselves.\u201d\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t worry?\u201d asked Cameron.\n\u201cYes, we did worry\u2014some. We knew that MacGregor wouldn\u2019t say a word\nabout us unless he was placed under arrest for the murder. We didn\u2019t\nthink you was going to get him, and you wouldn\u2019t either if it hadn\u2019t\nbeen for Fontaine. We had no idea that Fontaine knew anything about\nMacGregor until he blabbed out that he had seen MacGregor dope a drink\nhe was mixing for the prospector. We could have killed the kid for that,\nbut if we had, you\u2019d have known right away that we was the ones that had\ndone it and was implicated in some way in the other murder. There wasn\u2019t\na thing for us to do but just sit and wait.\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t have to wait very long either. MacGregor gets himself killed\nin a scrap with the police. And lo and behold!\u2014the \u2018Rat\u2019s\u2019 wife won\u2019t\ntalk. She wouldn\u2019t tell you a thing and she knew _everything_. You can\nbet MacGregor told his wife all about us. But why didn\u2019t she squeal? She\ncould have got revenge on us good and proper. She had us right where she\nwanted us. When she wouldn\u2019t give evidence, we knew what was in that\nlady\u2019s mind then and there: _She was planning to get back that poke!_\u201d\n\u201cHave you any more to say for yourself?\u201d asked the inspector, following\na long interval of silence.\n\u201cNo, sir, not a thing.\u201d\n\u201cIf you don\u2019t mind,\u201d said Rand, addressing his superior, \u201cI\u2019d like to\nask him a question.\u201d\n\u201cVery well, corporal.\u201d\n\u201cWhat was in the poke the evening Emery and Burnnel came to your cabin?\u201d\nCreel\u2019s laugh sounded like the cackle of a madman.\n\u201cA rusty nail and a piece of broken string, taken from an old alarm\nclock. That\u2019s what I call a clever piece of work. It was my idea.\nFrischette didn\u2019t know a thing about it. It fooled everybody. I buried\nDewberry\u2019s keys in a hole I dug in the cellar. When I got the chance, I\ncame back and dug them up. It was the same day that you went over to\ninvestigate about Frischette. You thought he had committed suicide.\u201d\n\u201cWell, wasn\u2019t I right?\u201d\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\u201cIf he didn\u2019t commit suicide, what happened to him?\u201d\n\u201cThe squaw shot him\u2014MacGregor\u2019s wife.\u201d\nOne might have thought that Rand had been shot himself. He jumped. It\nwas several moments before he fully recovered from his surprise.\n\u201cHow do you know that MacGregor\u2019s wife shot him?\u201d\n\u201cShe told me so herself.\u201d\n\u201cWhen?\u201d\n\u201cThe night her and Emery and Burnnel took the keys away from me, that\nnight across the Hay River. Flew into a rage and spilled everything. I\nguess she\u2019d have shot me too, but Burnnel wouldn\u2019t let her.\u201d\n\u201cIf what you say is true, how can you account for the note I found in\nFrischette\u2019s pocket?\u201d\n\u201cShe made Frischette write it before she shot him. Then she came back to\nmy cabin and searched everywhere for the keys. They were there, but she\ncouldn\u2019t find them. My place looked like a wreck. After that she met\nBurnnel and Emery who had come back to try to get the poke again. The\nnext morning she stayed out there in the woods while them two\nprospectors went over to see you.\u201d\n\u201cAnd did she stay in the woods until the afternoon of the next day?\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s exactly what she did.\u201d\nCorporal Rand turned to Inspector Cameron.\n\u201cI guess that\u2019s all, sir. I\u2019d suggest that you verify the prisoner\u2019s\nlast few statements by questioning Mrs. MacGregor herself and Burnnel\nand Emery. However, I believe that they are true. Shall I take Carson\nand Creel to their cells, sir?\u201d\nThe commandant nodded absent-mindedly, waved one arm in a gesture of\ndismissal. Dick started to file out with the others, when he heard\nCameron calling his name. Turning sharply upon his heel, he strode back\nto the inspector\u2019s desk and saluted.\n\u201cDick, you young rascal,\u201d began the mounted police official, \u201cI\u2019ve been\nwanting to have a talk with you for a long time. You see, I have\nreceived a letter concerning you and Toma. It came from the Commissioner\nof the Canadian Royal North West Mounted at Ottawa.\u201d\n\u201cI received a letter from him, too,\u201d said Dick, \u201cabout a year ago. In\nthis letter he said that he had considered favorably my application to\njoin the mounted police, and that I should hold myself in readiness to\nreport at the barracks at Regina.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you\u2019ve heard nothing from him since?\u201d\n\u201cNot a word, sir.\u201d\n\u201cDidn\u2019t you ever think that this was a little strange?\u201d\n\u201cWell\u2014er\u2014\u201d Dick flushed. \u201cAs a matter of fact, inspector, I\u2019ve been so\nbusy\u2014we\u2019ve all been so busy\u2014that I haven\u2019t had much time to bother my\nhead about it.\u201d\nInspector Cameron laughed and nudged Dick slyly.\n\u201cWould you care to hear a paragraph or two from the letter that _I_\nreceived?\u201d\n\u201cYes, sir. That is, if you\u2019d care to read it, sir.\u201d\n\u201cI do wish to read it. Here it is.\u201d Cameron picked up a typewritten\nsheet on the desk in front of him. \u201cNow prepare yourself for a shock.\u201d\n\u201cRegarding your request,\u201d read the commandant, \u201cthat Recruits Kent and\nToma should be retained at your detachment for special police service, I\nwish to say that although such an arrangement is not usual and often not\nadvisable, we have decided to make a concession to you in this\nparticular case.\u201d\n\u201cGreat Scott!\u201d exclaimed Dick.\n\u201cSo you see it was my fault that you didn\u2019t go to Regina. You boys are\ntoo valuable to lose.\u201d\nDick\u2019s face beamed like the sun. He felt that some great force\nunderneath him had lifted him up and that now he was being whirled\naround and around the room in a rose-tinted cloud. He couldn\u2019t speak\nbecause he was so happy.\n\u201cDon\u2019t stand there looking like a ninny. Compose yourself, my boy.\nHere\u2019s your first month\u2019s salary check. Here\u2019s another one for Toma.\nCame direct from the paymaster at Ottawa. I haven\u2019t one for Sandy\nbecause he didn\u2019t put in his application. You tell him he\u2019d better\u2014if he\nwants to work for me. And while you\u2019re telling him that, you might slip\nthis bit of paper into his pocket with my compliments. Drawn from my own\npersonal account.\u201d\nDick recalled afterward that he had thanked the inspector, but he never\ncould quite remember how he had gotten out of the room. He often\nwondered if he hadn\u2019t floated out in triumph and in regal state on that\nrose-tinted cloud.\n                       DICK REJOINS HIS COMRADES\nThree boys sat on the edge of a huge raft that drifted lazily over the\nclear, cool surface of Whitefish Lake, near Fort Good Faith. It was a\nhot day in late summer. Heat waves danced across the water. There wasn\u2019t\na speck of a cloud anywhere in sight. Neither was there another craft on\nthe lake. With the exception of the three young sportsmen, no person\nmight have been found within a radius of ten miles, which was fortunate,\nelse it might have been discovered that not one of the trio wore any\nclothes. Naked as on the day they were born, they sat and dangled their\nfeet in the water. \u201cMr. MacClaren told me that you were here,\u201d Dick was\nsaying. \u201cI stopped just long enough to have something to eat, then I\ncame right over. I was so anxious to tell you how everything came out.\u201d\n\u201cHow long did you remain at detachment headquarters?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cFour days,\u201d replied Dick. \u201cIt was longer than I should have stayed, but\nI was anxious to learn what they were intending to do with young Carson.\nInspector Cameron gave his case a special hearing the day before I left.\nYou can imagine how pleased I was at the outcome.\u201d\n\u201cWhat was the outcome? Let him off with a light sentence, I suppose.\u201d\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t guess. He\u2019s out on probation. Inspector Cameron would have\nsent him to Edmonton for trial, along with the rest of them, if it\nhadn\u2019t been for Corporal Rand. During the hearing Rand proved to\neverybody\u2019s satisfaction that Reynold hasn\u2019t full control of his mental\npowers\u2014in a way almost an idiot. He doesn\u2019t fully realize yet what he\u2019s\ndone.\u201d\n\u201cSo they sent him home,\u201d said Sandy.\n\u201cI took him home.\u201d\n\u201cGreat Scott! How did that happen?\u201d\n\u201cInspector Cameron asked me to,\u201d answered Dick. \u201cI couldn\u2019t very well\nrefuse, could I? I didn\u2019t really want to go\u2014but I\u2019m glad now. Sandy\u2014if\nyou could have seen Mr. and Mrs. Carson\u2019s faces when we walked through\nthe door, you\u2019d have felt repaid a million times.\u201d\n\u201cI can believe that. What did they say?\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t remember all they said. At a time like that, things people say\ndon\u2019t count. It\u2019s what they do and how they feel that really matters. I\ncan\u2019t explain exactly what I mean. But if you\u2019d been there, you\u2019d\nunderstand.\u201d\n\u201cI think I understand now, Dick,\u201d said Sandy softly.\n\u201cThat experience will make a man of him. He\u2019s changed already. And the\ngirl, too. It was a lesson for both of them.\u201d\nToma dropped off the raft a moment later, during a lull in the\nconversation, and swam in widening circles around them. For a short time\nthe two boys watched him, then suddenly, with a little start, Dick\nseized his trousers and plunged one hand in a pocket.\n\u201cThere! I\u2019d almost forgotten. Here\u2019s a check for both of you from\nInspector Cameron. Toma,\u201d he called, \u201ccome back!\u201d\nToma swam back to the raft, and then Dick told them of his interview\nwith the commandant, not forgetting to mention the letter that had been\nread to him.\n\u201cWish I\u2019d put in my application too,\u201d sighed Sandy.\n\u201cIt isn\u2019t too late yet. Inspector Cameron told me to tell you.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll write one out this very day,\u201d decided Sandy.\nToma regarded his check thoughtfully.\n\u201cHow I spend all this money?\u201d he wanted to know.\n\u201cA new saddle,\u201d suggested Dick.\n\u201cGot \u2019em good one now.\u201d\n\u201cA rifle then.\u201d\n\u201cPlenty rifle.\u201d\n\u201cTell you what,\u201d impishly advised Sandy, \u201ctell you what, Toma, you can\nsave your money and later on purchase a Chinese chest.\u201d\n\u201cOne that dates back to the Ming dynasty,\u201d Dick elaborated.\n\u201cUgh!\u201d said the young Indian.\n[1]Author\u2019s Note: An expression frequently heard in the North. It means\n   here \u201cbeyond the borders of the wilderness.\u201d\n  SUBMARINE BOYS SERIES\n    _The Submarine Boys on Duty_\n    _The Submarine Boys\u2019 Trial Trip_\n    _The Submarine Boys and the Middies_\n  NORTHLAND SERIES\n    _Dick Kent, Fur Trader_\n    _Dick Kent with the Malemute Mail_\n    _Dick Kent on Special Duty_\n  BLACK RIDER SERIES\n    _In the Camp of the Black Rider_\n    _The Mystery at Lake Retreat_\n    _Tom Blake\u2019s Mysterious Adventure_\n  MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS SERIES\n    _The Meadow-Brook Girls Across Country_\n    _The Meadow-Brook Girls Afloat_\n    _The Meadow-Brook Girls in the Hills_\n  LINDA CARLTON SERIES\n    _Linda Carlton, Air Pilot_\n    _Linda Carlton\u2019s Ocean Flight_\n    _Linda Carlton\u2019s Island Adventure_\n  ADVENTURE GIRLS SERIES\n    _The Adventure Girls at K-Bar-O_\n    _The Adventure Girls in the Air_\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and\n  dialect unchanged.\n--Added a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.\n--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the\n  HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Dick Kent on Special Duty, by Milton Richards\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK KENT ON SPECIAL DUTY ***\n***** This file should be named 50275-0.txt or 50275-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Rick Morris\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Tom Cosmas from files generously made available\nby USDA through The Internet Archive. All resultant\nmaterials are placed in the Public Domain.\nTranscriber Note\nEmphasis is denoted as _Italics_ and =Bold=.\n=CRIMSON CLOVER=\nLEAFLET No. 160\nU.S.DEPARTMENT of AGRICULTURE\nIssued June 1938.\n=CRIMSON CLOVER=\nBy E. A. Hollowell, _senior agronomist, Division of Forage Crops and\nDiseases, Bureau of Plant Industry_\n=Growth and Distribution=\nCrimson clover (_Trifolium incarnatum_) is the most important winter\nannual legume of the central section of the Eastern States (fig. 1).\nBesides being an excellent hay plant and furnishing an abundance of\nearly spring pasture, it affords protection to the soil during the fall,\nwinter, and spring, prevents soil washing, and provides green manure for\nsoil improvement. This legume has the distinct advantage of being a heavy\nproducer of seed, which can be easily harvested and sown without the use\nof expensive machinery.\n[Illustration: Figure 1.--Principal crimson clover region of the United\nStates.]\nCrimson clover is a native of Europe and is widely grown in France,\nHungary, and other central and southern European countries. Seed was\nintroduced into this country as early as 1819, but it was not until 1880\nthat the plant became of agricultural importance. During the last 6 years\nthe annual commercial consumption of seed in the United States has ranged\nfrom 2 to 4 million pounds. In addition, large quantities of home-grown\nseed are used and handled from farm to farm.\nThe common name of this clover is derived from the distinctive bright\ncrimson color of the blossoms. Other common names, such as German clover\nand scarlet clover, are frequently heard in different localities. In\ngeneral the leaves and stems of crimson clover resemble red clover, but\nare distinguished by the rounding of the tips of the leaves and a greater\ncovering of hair on both leaves and steins. When it is planted in the\nfall the leaves develop from the crown and form a rosette, which enlarges\nwhenever weather conditions are favorable. In late spring flower stems\ndevelop rapidly and terminate their growth with elongated flower heads.\nSeed forms and the plant dies with the advent of hot summer weather. The\nseed is yellow, slightly larger, and more rounding than red clover seed.\n=Adaptation=\nCrimson clover is adapted to cool, humid weather and is tolerant of winter\nconditions where the temperature does not become severe or too variable.\nIn this region (fig. 1) it should be planted in late summer or early fall,\nsince early establishment and growth are favorable to its winter survival.\nIt will thrive on both sandy and clay soils and is tolerant of ordinary\nsoil acidity. On extremely poor soils, stands are difficult to obtain and\nthe growth is stunted. The use of manure and phosphate fertilizers on such\nsoils will improve the chances of obtaining good stands.\nCrimson clover may also be successfully grown as a summer annual in Maine,\nnorthern Michigan, and Minnesota. The winter culture of this clover\nmay be extended into Kentucky, southern Missouri, and southern Indiana\nprovided the seed is sown in fertile soil early in August. Production may\nbe successfully extended southward with an increase of soil fertility and\nwith seeding delayed until soil-moisture conditions are favorable.\n=Seedbed Preparation=\nThe most important and difficult phase of successful production of crimson\nclover is getting a stand. Sufficient soil moisture to germinate the seed\nand to establish the seedlings is the greatest factor in obtaining a\nstand, which when established usually produces a good crop.\nSeedings are usually made in late August or early September between\nthe rows of cultivated crops. Under such conditions an ideal seedbed\nis difficult to prepare, therefore careful preparation is necessary.\nFurthermore, the crop plants in the row shade the clover seedlings and\nseriously compete with them for the available moisture. Increasing the\ndistance between the rows and planting the row crop more thinly will\nafford better opportunity for the establishment of the clover. When\nplanted between the rows of other crops, the seed is usually broadcast on\nthe surface and covered by cultivating or harrowing (fig. 2). Drilling\nthe seed after the soil surface has been stirred will usually give more\ncomplete stands than broadcasting, and it may be done with a small\none-horse drill. The seed should not be planted more than one-half to\nthree-fourths of an inch deep, respectively, in clay and sandy soils.\n[Illustration: Figure 2.--Seeding crimson clover in corn.]\nCrimson clover is often seeded following a grain crop, and this is a\nsurer method of establishing a stand than planting between the rows of\ncultivated crops, providing the seedbed is well prepared. After the grain\ncrop is removed the soil is plowed or disked and allowed to settle. This\nis followed by light harrowing or disking when necessary to kill weed\nseedlings. Before the clover is seeded the soil should be firmly packed,\nbecause a loose cloddy seedbed is the forerunner of failure. The seed may\nbe either drilled or broadcast, but drilling will give more uniform stands.\n=Fertilizers=\nWhen the crop is planted on extremely poor soils, good stands and\ngrowth cannot be expected. Such soil conditions may be improved by the\napplication of manure and phosphate fertilizers or by turning under such\ncrops as cowpeas, soybeans, or lespedeza. In many soils of low fertility\nthe use of 50 to 100 pounds per acre of a nitrogen fertilizer will\nencourage early seedling growth and establishment. On the fertile soils of\nthis region crimson clover may be successfully grown without fertilizer,\nbut on most soils applications of 200 pounds of phosphate fertilizer per\nacre are profitable in obtaining stands and vigorous growth (fig. 3). The\nuse of potash is recommended when a deficiency is known to exist.\n[Illustration: Figure 3.--Effect of phosphate application on good soil:\nTreated (left); untreated (right).]\n=Seed Sources=\nOf the total amount of seed normally used approximately 60 percent is\nof foreign origin, coming principally from Hungary and France. Most of\nthe domestic crimson clover seed offered on the market is produced in\nsouth-central Tennessee. While white-flowered strains and others differing\nin maturity have been isolated, they are little used. Claims have been\nmade that locally grown seed is superior to seed from other sources\nincluding that of foreign origin. Further experiments are needed to\ndetermine whether such differences actually exist.\n=Rate and Time of Seeding=\nUnder ordinary conditions 15 to 18 pounds of hulled seed will give good\nstands unless there is a deficiency of soil moisture. Depending upon the\namount of foreign material 45 to 60 pounds of unhulled seed is comparable\nto a 15-pound seeding rate of hulled seed. Crimson clover may be sown from\nthe middle of August until October 1 with the expectation of securing a\ngood stand. The later it is seeded the less growth can be expected and\nthe more readily winterkilling occurs. The early establishment of the\nplants becomes more important as plantings are extended northward. Seeding\ncrimson clover, if possible, either immediately before or following heavy\nrains will increase its chances of making a stand. The spring planting of\ncrimson clover in or south of the Corn Belt usually results in a short,\nstunted growth followed by meager blossoming and an unprofitable yield.\n=Inoculation=\nIn many parts of the crimson clover region it is not necessary to\ninoculate the seed; but if clover has not been successfully grown on a\nsoil, inoculation of the seed is good insurance. If the plants are not\ninoculated they will develop slowly, become yellow, and die. Inoculated\nplants are able to obtain about two-thirds of their nitrogen from the air\nthrough their root nodules. The plants may be artificially inoculated by\napplying pure cultures of the bacteria to the seed or by scattering soil\nfrom a field where inoculated crimson clover has been grown. Two hundred\nto three hundred pounds per acre of such soil evenly distributed at\nseeding time is sufficient.\n=Unhulled Seed=\nThe use of unhulled seed offers the distinct advantage of increasing\nthe chance of obtaining thick stands. With the prevalence of dry soil\nconditions, light rainfall does not cause the unhulled seed to germinate,\nbut hulled seed germinates readily and the seedlings may die from lack of\nmoisture before they can become established.\nIts bulky nature makes unhulled seed more difficult to distribute\nuniformly than hulled seed. It must be broadcast and may be harrowed in.\nIt is also difficult to market and is not generally handled by the seed\ntrade. But farmers can harvest seed for their own use and save the expense\nof having it hulled.\n=Companion Crops=\nRye, vetch, Italian ryegrass, and fall-sown grain crops are often seeded\nwith crimson clover. Besides making a valuable addition to the clover\n(fig. 4), these companion crops help bolster up a thin stand. Such crops\nare seeded from one-half to one-third the normal crop rate and the crimson\nclover is seeded at the normal rate. Planting is done at the same time,\nbut, as a greater depth is required for most of the seed of the companion\ncrops, two seeding operations are necessary. In Tennessee, farmers often\nuse a mixture of 5 pounds of red clover and 10 pounds of crimson clover\nper acre with excellent results. The first growth of the mixture may be\ngrazed or harvested for hay or for crimson clover seed, while the second\ncrop is wholly red clover.\n[Illustration: Figure 4.--Crimson clover and rye, an excellent\ngreen-manure combination.]\n=Diseases and Insects=\nThe only serious disease that affects crimson clover is stem rot. The\neffect of this disease is seen in the early spring and is characterized by\nthe plants dying in patches. The stems rot at the surface of the soil or\nwhere they join the crown. The occurrence of continued damp cool weather\nduring early spring favors the development of the disease. Exclusion of\nclover and other legumes from the rotation for a period of 2 to 5 years is\nthe best control method.\nSandy soils in the southern part of the crimson clover belt are often\ninfested with nematodes. Nematode injury results in a stunting and\nyellowing of the plants and is most prevalent in the southern part of the\nregion. While the clover-seed chalcid, the pea aphid, and other insects\nsometimes become numerous in crimson clover, insects do not ordinarily\ncause appreciable damage.\n=Utilization=\nCrimson clover grows rapidly in early spring and furnishes an abundance\nof early grazing (fig. 5). If planted early and an abundant fall growth\nis made, the clover may also be grazed during the fall and winter months.\nSuch a practice has been successfully followed in Tennessee, where crimson\nclover has provided the winter pasturage. The grazing, however, should be\nrestricted to periods when the soil is relatively dry, otherwise damage\nmay result from trampling. Animals grazing on crimson clover seldom bloat;\nhowever, it is advisable not to turn them into clover fields for the\nfirst time when they are hungry. Bloat is less likely to occur when a\nmixture of clover and grass or grain is grazed than when the clover alone\nis grazed. As crimson clover reaches maturity the hairs of the heads and\nstems become hard and tough. When grazed continuously or when fed as\nhay at this stage of maturity large masses of the hairs are liable to\nform into hair balls in stomachs of horses and mules. Occasionally the\nhair balls are responsible for the death of animals. If small amounts of\nother feeds, particularly roughages, are fed along with the clover, the\nformation of these balls will be reduced. Cattle, sheep, and swine do not\nseem to be affected.\n[Illustration: Figure 5.--Crimson clover provides an abundance of early\nspring grazing.]\nCrimson clover makes excellent hay when cut at the early bloom stage\nalthough the yield may be slightly reduced. For maximum yields it should\nbe harvested in full bloom. The hay is easily cured either in the swath\nor in the windrow. Fewer leaves are lost and less bleaching occurs in\nwindrowed hay. Although yields as high as 2\u00bd tons per acre are not\nuncommon on fertile soil, 1\u00bd to 2 tons is an ordinary production.\nCrimson clover is an ideal green-manure crop. For the best result it\nshould be plowed under 2 to 3 weeks before planting the succeeding crop.\nThis gives sufficient time for decomposition, which is rapid unless the\ncrop is mature when plowed under. Occasionally, strips are plowed in which\nrow crops are planted, allowing the clover between the plowed strips\nto mature. Seed may be harvested by hand from the clover between the\nrow crop, and the remaining clover straw allowed to mat and serve as a\nmulch, or the entire plant may be permitted to form a mulch. A volunteer\nseeding may be secured in this way, especially in the northern part of\nthis region, but attempts to follow such a practice should be tried on a\nsmall scale until experience is gained. When used in orchards, crimson\nclover is often allowed to mature, after which it is disked into the soil.\nOccasionally a volunteer seeding may be obtained in the fall.\n=Seed Production=\nCrimson clover is a prolific seed-producing plant and yields of 5 to\n10 bushels per acre are common, depending upon the thickness of the\nstand, the amount of growth that is produced, and the care exercised in\nharvesting the seed. The florets are self-fertile, but bees are effective\nin tripping and transferring the pollen, with a consequent increase in the\nnumber of seed per head. The placing of colonies of honeybees adjacent\nto blooming fields will effectively increase pollination. More seed is\nusually produced on soils of medium fertility than on rich soils, since\nfertile soils seem to stimulate the growth of stems and leaves at the\nexpense of flower-head development.\nLarge yields and ease of harvesting crimson clover seed are the principal\nreasons why crimson clover is such an ideal legume crop. Farmers may save\nseed with very little expense other than their own labor. When the seed\nheads are mature they readily shatter and are easily harvested either by\nhand stripping or by using horse-drawn homemade strippers. One bushel of\nunhulled seed contains about 2 pounds of hulled seed, and although bulky\nin nature, it can be easily stored on the farm until fall.\n[Illustration: Figure 6.--Cutting a crimson clover seed crop with a mower\nequipped with a bunching attachment.]\nWhen the seed is mature the crop is cut with a mower, which may be\nequipped with a bunching or windrowing attachment (fig. 6) or it may be\nharvested with a combine. During wet seasons difficulties in combining the\nseed from standing plants may be experienced. Under such conditions the\nplants may be cut and windrowed and then threshed by the combine from the\nwindrow. As crimson clover shatters easily when ripe, cutting with the\nmower when the heads are damp with dew or rain is recommended. If allowed\nto stand too long after it is ripe a beating rain will shatter much of\nthe seed. After a few days of curing, the seed is hulled with an ordinary\nclover huller or a grain separator equipped with hulling attachments. The\nless the clover is handled, the less seed will be lost by shattering.\nTroublesome weeds are encountered in growing crimson clover seed; field\npeppergrass (_Lepidium campestre_) and wintercress (_Barbarea praecox_)\nare probably the worst, as their separation from the clover seed is\ndifficult. Little barley (_Hordeum pusillum_) is objectionable in unhulled\nseed, and the use of unhulled seed will naturally increase the prevalence\nof this weed.\nU. S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE: 1938\nFor sale by the Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D. C. -- Price 5\ncents\n=Transcriber Note=\nIllustrations moved to avoid splitting paragraphs and closer to references\nin the text. Minor typos may have been corrected.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Crimson Clover [1938]\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n    This etext was produced from Astounding Stories September 1931.\n    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\n    copyright on this publication was renewed.\n[Illustration: The tip sprayed a web around his body.]\nDevil Crystals of Arret\n_By Hal K. Wells_\n    Facing a six-hour deadline of death, young Larry raids a\n    hostile world of rat-men and tinkling Devil Crystals.\nBenjamin Marlowe and his young assistant, Larry Powell, opened the\ndoor of the Marlowe laboratory, then stopped aghast at the sight\nwhich greeted their startled eyes.\nThere on the central floor-plate directly in the focus of the big\natomic projector stood the slender figure of Joan Marlowe, old\nBenjamin Marlowe's niece and Larry Powell's fiancee.\nThe girl had apparently only been awaiting their return to the\nlaboratory for around her gray laboratory smock was already fastened\none of their Silver Belts, and a cord was already in place running\nfrom her wrist to the main switch of the projection mechanism.\nJoan's clear blue eyes sparkled with the thrill of high adventure as\nshe swiftly raised a slender hand in a gesture of warning to the two\nmen.\n\"Don't try to stop me,\" she warned quietly. \"I can jerk the switch\nand be in Arret, before you've taken two steps. I'm going to Arret,\nanyway. I was only waiting for you to return to the laboratory so\nI'd be sure of having you here to bring me back to Earth again\nbefore I have time to get into any serious trouble over there.\"\n\"But, Joan,\" Benjamin Marlowe protested, \"this is sheer madness! No\none can possibly guess what terrible conditions you may confront in\nArret. We've never dared to send a human being across the atomic\nbarrier yet!\"\n\"We've sent all kinds of animals across, though,\" Joan retorted\ncalmly, \"and as long as we recalled them within the twelve-hour\nlimit they always came back alive and unhurt. There's no reason why\na human being should not be able to make the round trip just as\nsafely. Ever since our Silver Belts first came back with the weird\nplant and mineral fragments which proved that there really is such a\nplace as Arret, I've been wild to see with my own eyes the\nincredible things that must exist there.\"\nJoan waved her hand in gay farewell. \"Good-by, Uncle Ben and Larry!\nI know that you'll drag me back just as quickly as you can possibly\ndash over to the recall switch, but I'll at least have had a few\nprecious seconds of sightseeing as Earth's first human visitor to\nArret!\"\nLarry Powell was already sprinting for the mechanism as Joan jerked\nthe cord that ran to the switch, but he was barely half-way across\nthe intervening space when the big atomic projector flared forth in\na brilliant gush of roseate flame.\nFor a fraction of a second Joan's slender figure was outlined in the\nvery heart of the ruddy glow, then vanished completely. There was\nleft only a short length of the switch cord to indicate that the\ngirl had ever stood there.\nPowell reached the mechanism and shut off the projector's flame,\nthen turned swiftly to the control-panel of the recall mechanism. As\nhe closed the switch on this panel, three banks of tubes set in\ntriangular form around the floor-plate upon which Joan had stood\nglowed a brilliant and blinding green.\nShielding his eyes from the glare with an upraised forearm, Powell\nbegan stepping a rheostat up to more and more power. In his anxiety,\nhe increased the power far too quickly. There was a sudden gush of\nblue-white flame from the heart of the mechanism, together with the\nhissing crackle of fusing metal. The green light in the tubes\npromptly died.\nBenjamin Marlowe was bending over the apparatus almost instantly. A\nmoment later he raised a face that had suddenly gone white. There\nwas terror in his eyes as he turned to his assistant.\n\"The entire second series of coils is burned out, Larry!\" he gasped\nin consternation. \"Joan is marooned over there in Arret--marooned in\nthat grim unknown land as completely beyond our reach as though she\nwere upon one of the moons of Mars!\"\nFor a long moment the two men gazed at each other with\nhorror-stricken faces, dazed and shaken. Then they quickly drew\nthemselves together again and set about the herculean task of making\nthe necessary repairs to the damaged mechanism in time to rescue\nJoan before the twelve-hour limit should doom the girl to forever\nremain an exile in that land of alien mystery beyond the atomic\nbarrier.\nTheir previous experiments with animals had proved that no living\ncreature from Earth could be brought back after it had been in Arret\nover twelve hours. After that time the change in the atoms\nconstituting living tissues apparently became permanently Arretian,\nfor the Silver Belts returned without any trace of their original\nwearers.\nThe necessary repairs to the damaged coils were of such an exacting\nand intricate nature that any great speed was impossible. Hours\npassed while the two men bent to their work with grim concentration.\nNeither of them dared think too much of what nameless dangers might\nbe confronting Joan during those weary hours. Their actual knowledge\nof Arret was so pitiably slight.\nSome months ago, while they were experimenting upon apparatus for\nreversing the electrical charges of an atom's electrons and protons,\nthey had first stumbled upon the incredible fact that such a place\nas Arret really existed. They found that it was another world\noccupying the same position in space as Earth, with the fundamental\ndifference in the two interwoven planes of existence lying in the\nelectrical make-up of the atoms that constituted matter in each\nplane.\nOn Earth all atoms are composed of small heavy protons that are\nalways positive in charge, and larger lighter electrons that are\nalways negative. In Arret the protons were negative, and the\nelectrons positive. The result was two worlds occupying the same\nspace at the same time, yet with matter so essentially and\ncompletely different that each world was intangible to the other.\nThey had named the unseen world Arret, the reverse of Terra.\nFinding it impossible to work directly upon most forms of matter,\nthe experimenters had finally evolved a silver alloy that served as\na medium both for sending objects into Arret and then bringing\nthem back to Earth. By focussing the flame of the projection\napparatus upon a Silver Belt of this alloy, the electrical charges\nof the Belt's atoms were reversed, automatically causing the Belt to\nvanish from Earth and materialize in Arret. At the same time the\natoms of any object within the Belt's immediate radius were\nsimilarly transformed, and that object was taken into Arret with the\nBelt.\nThe recall mechanism functioned by broadcasting a power wave that\nagain reversed the atomic charge of the Belt and its contained\nobject back to that of Earth. At the same time the recall wave\nexerted an attractive force that drew the atoms back to a central\npoint in the laboratory, where they were re-materialized upon the\nsame floor-plate from which they had originally been sent.\nThe twelve-hour time limit was half up when Benjamin Marlowe and\nLarry Powell finally straightened up wearily from their work over\nthe recall mechanism, their repairs completed. It had been one\no'clock in the afternoon when Joan Marlowe vanished from Earth in\nthe roseate flare of the projector. It was now nearly seven o'clock.\nWith nerves tense from anxiety, the two men crossed over to the\ncontrol-panel of the recall apparatus. This time they donned goggles\nof dark glass to shield their eyes from the blinding green glare.\nMarlowe threw the main switch, and the banked tubes came to life in\na flood of vivid emerald light.\nMarlowe began stepping the rheostat up gradually to more power,\nadvancing it with cautious slowness to avoid any chance of a\nrepetition of the previous accident. The green radiance streaming\nfrom the tubes in every direction began to throb with an electric\nforce that the two men could feel pulsing through their own bodies.\nThere was a click as the rheostat struck the last notch. The green\nradiance was now a searing flame that half-blinded them even through\nthe thick dark glass of their protective goggles, while the vibrant\nforce of the green rays was sweeping through their bodies with a\ntingling shock that nearly took their breath away.\nTensely the two men stared at the metal floor-plate in the center of\nthe area bounded by the flaming green tubes. Just over the plate the\ngreen radiance seemed to be thickening and swirling oddly. The\nswirling eddy became a small dense cloud of darker green light. Then\nabruptly, like the fade-in on a moving picture screen, from the\ncloud over the plate the misty outlines of an object swiftly cleared\nand solidified into a bizarre something at whose unfamiliar aspect\nboth Marlowe and Powell gasped in amazement.\nMarlowe snapped the switch off, and the green radiance vanished.\nStripping the dark goggles from their eyes, the two men hurried over\nfor a closer view of the thing that rested quiescent and apparently\nlifeless there on the metal floor-plate.\nIt was shaped like a huge egg, a little over a yard long, and was\napparently composed of a solid lump of some unknown crystalline\nsubstance that closely resembled very clear, pale amber. Embedded in\nthe heart of the strange egg were clearly visible objects which\ncaused Marlowe and Powell to gasp in mingled horror and amazement.\nChief among the things imprisoned in that amber shroud was the\nSilver Belt that Joan had worn, but the Belt was now looped over the\nbony shoulder of a skeleton that by no possible stretch of the\nimagination could ever have been that of a creature of this Earth.\nThe skeleton was still perfectly articulated, and gleamed through\nthe crystalline amber as though its bony surfaces were encrusted\nwith diamond dust. The bones were apparently those of a creature\nthat in life had been half dwarf-ape and half giant rat.\nThe beast had stood a little under a yard in height. The legs were\nshort, powerful, and bowed. The long arms ended in claw-like\ntravesties of hands. The skull was relatively small, with a sharply\nsloping forehead and projecting squirrel-like teeth that were\nmarkedly rodent.\nAround the skeleton's neck there was a wide band of some strange\ngray metal, with its smooth outer surface roughly scratched in\ncharacters that resembled primitive hieroglyphics.\nMarlowe's face was white with grief as he turned to Powell. \"Joan\nmust be dead, Larry,\" he said sadly. \"Otherwise, she would surely\nnever have allowed her Silver Belt to pass into the possession\nof--this! She knew that the Belt represented her only hope of ever\nbeing brought back to this world.\"\nFor a moment Powell stared intently into the heart of the\ncrystalline egg without answering. Then suddenly he straightened up\nwith marked excitement upon his face.\n\"There's a small sheet of paper entwined in the coils of that Belt!\"\nhe exclaimed. \"It may be a message from Joan!\"\nSwiftly the two men lifted the amber egg up to the top of a\nworkbench. Powell took a small hammer to test the hardness of the\nstrange translucent substance.\nHe struck it a sharp rap, then recoiled in surprise at the effect of\nhis blow, for the entire egg instantly shattered with a tinkling\ncrash like the bursting of a huge glass bubble. So complete was the\ndisintegration of the egg and the skeleton within it that all that\nremained of either was a heap of diamond and amber dust. The only\nthings left intact were the Silver Belt and the metal collar.\nPowell snatched up the Belt and extracted the small piece of paper\nthat had been firmly tucked into its coils. Hurriedly written in\npencil upon the paper was a message in a handwriting familiar to\nboth Powell and Marlowe:\n    Help! I am held prisoner in the Cave of Blue Flames!\n\"Larry, Joan must still be alive over there in Arret!\" There was new\nhope in Benjamin Marlowe's voice.\n\"Yes, alive and held captive by whatever monstrosities may inhabit\nthat unknown plane,\" Powell agreed grimly. \"There's only one way in\nwhich we can possibly rescue her now. That is for you to send me\ninto Arret with a reserve Belt for Joan. I'll be ready to start as\nsoon as I get a couple of automatic pistols that I have up in my\nroom. It's a sure thing that I'll need them over there in Arret.\"\nFive minutes later Powell stood ready and waiting upon the\nfloor-plate in the focus of the big atomic projector, with the\ncentral lens of the apparatus levelled down upon him like a huge\nsearchlight. Around Powell's waist were strapped two Silver Belts,\nand a cartridge belt with a holstered .45-calibre automatic on\neither side. His wrist-watch was synchronized to the second with\nBenjamin Marlowe's watch.\n\"Joan's twelve-hour time limit in Arret will expire at one o'clock\ntomorrow morning.\" Powell reminded Marlowe. \"That gives me nearly\nsix hours in which to find her and equip her with a Silver Belt. You\nwill broadcast the recall wave at exactly one o'clock. If I haven't\nsucceeded in finding Joan by then, I'll discard my own Belt and stay\non over there in Arret with her.... I'm ready to start now, whenever\nyou are.\"\nBenjamin Marlowe raised his hand to the switch in the projector's\ncontrol panel. \"Good-by, Larry,\"--the old man's voice shook a trifle\nin spite of himself--\"and may God be with you!\" He closed the\nswitch.\nA great burst of roseate flame leaped toward Powell from the\nprojector. The laboratory was instantly blotted out in a swirling\nchaos of ruddy radiance that swept him up and away like a chip upon\na tidal wave. There was a long moment during which he seemed to\nhurtle helplessly through a universe of swirling tinted mists, while\ngreat electric waves tingled with exquisite poignancy through every\natom of his body.\nThen the mists suddenly cleared like the tearing away of a mighty\ncurtain, and with startling abruptness Powell found himself again in\na solid world of material things. For a moment as he gazed dazedly\nabout him he thought that the roseate glow of the projector must\nstill be playing tricks with his eyesight, for the landscape around\nhim was completely and incredibly red!\nHe soon realized that the monochrome of scarlet was a natural aspect\nof things in Arret. The weird vegetation all around him was of a\nuniform glossy red. The sandy soil under his feet was dull\nbrick-red. High in the reddish-saffron sky overhead there blazed a\nlurid orb of blood-red hue, the intense heat of its ruddy radiance\ngiving the still dry air a nearly tropical temperature. From this\norb's position in the sky and its size, Powell was forced to\nconclude that it must be the Arretian equivalent of Earth's moon.\nFor a moment he stood motionless as he peered cautiously around him,\ntrying to decide what should be his first step in this scarlet world\nthat was so utterly alien in every way to his own. On every side the\nlandscape stretched monotonously away from him in low rolling dunes\nlike the frozen ground swell of a crimson sea--dunes covered with\nvegetation of a kind never seen upon Earth.\nNot a leaf existed in all that weird flora. Instead of leaves or\ntwigs the constituent units of bushes and grasses consisted of\nglobules, glossy spheres of scarlet that ranged in size from\npinheads to the bulk of large pumpkins. The branches of the\nvegetation were formed from strings of the globules set edge to edge\nand tapering in size like graduated beads strung upon wire,\ndwindling in bulk until the tips of the branches were as fragile as\nthe fronds of maidenhair fern. The bulk of the shrubbery was\nhead-high, and so dense that Powell could see for only a couple of\nyards into the thicket in any direction.\nThe stillness around Powell was complete. Not even a globular twig\nstirred in the hot dry air. Powell decided to head for the crest of\none of the low dunes some fifty feet away. From its top he might be\nable to sight something that would give a clue to the location of\nthe \"Cave of Blue Flames\" of which Joan had written.\nHe arrived at the foot of the dune's slope without incident. But\nthere he came to an abrupt halt as the silence was suddenly\nshattered by a strange sound from the shrubbery-covered crest just\nabove him. It was a musical, tinkling crash, oddly suggestive of a\nhandful of thin glass plates shattering upon a stone floor. A second\nlater there came the agonized scream of some creature in its death\nthroes.\nThe tinkling, crashing sound promptly swelled to a steady pulsing\nsong like that of a brittle river of crystalline glass surging and\nbreaking over granite boulders. There was an eery beauty in that\ntinkling burst of melody, yet with the beauty there was an\nintangible suggestion of horror that made Powell's flesh creep.\nThe crystalline song swelled to a crescendo climax. Then there came\nanother sound, a single resonant note like that given when a string\nof a bass viol is violently plucked--and the tinkling melody\nabruptly died. Immediately following the resonant twang some object\nwas ejected from the midst of the thicket on the dune's crest, and\ncame rolling and bounding down the gentle slope toward Powell.\nIt finally came to rest against the base of a bush almost at his\nfeet. He whistled softly in surprise as he saw the nature of the\nthing. It was another of the yard-long egg-shaped crystals of\ntranslucent amber like the one that had been materialized in\nBenjamin Marlowe's laboratory. Imprisoned in the clear depths of\nthis amber egg was the sparkling, diamond-encrusted skeleton of what\nhad apparently been a small quadruped about the size of a fox.\nPowell's eyes narrowed in speculation as he realized that he had\nbefore him the first slight clue as to what might have happened to\nJoan. Her Silver Belt had been enclosed in one of those amber,\ncrystalline eggs. Apparently her capture had been in some way\nconnected with that sinister, unseen Tinkling Death.\nPowell began cautiously working his way up the slope of the dune,\nwith an automatic pistol ready for use in his right hand. Silence\nreigned unbroken now in the thicket on the crest, but with each\nupward step that he took there came with constantly increasing force\na feeling of some vast, alien intelligence lurking up there,\nwatching and waiting.\nNearer and nearer the crest he worked his wary way, until he was so\nclose that he fancied he could see the vague outline of some\nmonstrous silvery bulk looming there in the heart of the red\nthicket. He took another cautious step forward--and then his careful\nstalking was sharply interrupted.\nWithout a second's warning there came the roaring rush of great\nwings beating the air just above him. Powell tried to dive for\ncover, but he was too late. A slender snaky tentacle came lashing\ndown and struck his shoulder with a force that sent him sprawling\nforward upon his face. Before he could rise, two of the tentacles\ntwined around him, and he was jerked up into the air like a\nwood-grub captured by a husky robin.\nAgain the great wings above him threshed the air in tremendous\npower, as the unseen monster started away with its prey. Then the\ntentacles from which he was dangling shifted their grip slightly,\nturning Powell's body in the air so that he could look up and get\nhis first glimpse of the thing that had captured him. He shuddered\nat what he saw. The creature was a hideous combination of octopus\nand giant bat.\nNaked wings of membrane spanned twenty feet from tip to tip. There\nwas a pursy sac-like body, ending in a head with staring, lidless\neyes and a great black beak that looked strong enough to shear sheet\nsteel. From the body descended half a dozen long writhing tentacles.\nPowell's one hundred and eighty pounds made a weight that was\napparently a burden for even this flying monster. It flew jerkily\nalong, scarcely a dozen feet from the ground, and there was\nlaborious effort obvious in every movement of its flapping wings.\nPowell decided to make a prompt break for escape before the\noctopus-bat succeeded in fighting its way any higher. His left arm\nwas still pinioned to his body by one of the constricting tentacles,\nbut his right hand, with the automatic in it, was free.\nHe swung the weapon's muzzle into line with the hideous face above\nhim, then sent a stream of lead crashing upward into the creature's\nhead. The bullet struck squarely home. The tentacles tightened\nconvulsively with a force that almost cracked Powell's ribs. Then in\nanother paroxysm of agony the tentacles flung him free.\nThe impetus of his fall sent him rolling for a dozen feet. Unhurt,\nsave for minor scratches and bruises, he scrambled to his feet just\nin time to see the mortally wounded octopus-bat come crashing down\nin the red vegetation some thirty yards away. For a few minutes\nthere was audible a convulsive threshing; and then there was\nsilence.\nPowell refilled the automatic's clip, then looked about, trying to\nregain his bearings. He wanted to return to the thicket of the\nTinkling Death, but the octopus-bat had carried him hundreds of\nyards from there and he was now uncertain even of the direction in\nwhich the thicket was.\nAs he paused in indecision, there came to Powell's ears a new sound\nthat promptly drove all thought of the Tinkling Death from his mind.\nThe sound of his gun against the octopus-bat had apparently\nattracted new and unseen assailants--and their number was legion.\nSwiftly closing in upon him from every side there came the rustle\nand whisper of countless thousands of unseen foes advancing through\nthe dense red thickets.\nCompletely hemmed in as he was, flight was out of the question. He\nsought the center of a small clearing, some ten feet in diameter, in\norder to gain at least a moment's sight of his adversaries before\nthey swarmed in upon him. With an automatic in each hand, he waited\ntense and ready.\nThe encircling rush came swiftly nearer, until Powell was suddenly\naware that the unseen horde had arrived. The thicket bordering his\ntiny clearing was literally alive with yard-high furry bodies of\ncreatures that dodged about too swiftly in the cover of the red\nbushes for him to get a clear view of any of them. There was a\nconstant babel of snarling, chattering sound as the things called\nback and forth to each other.\nThen the chattering stopped abruptly, as though at the command of\nsome unseen leader. The next moment one of the creatures stepped\nboldly out into full view in the clearing. Powell's scalp crinkled\nin disgust as he realized the nature of the thing confronting him.\nIt was literally a rat-man. Its upright posture upon two powerful,\nbowed hind legs was that of a man, but its human-like points were\novershadowed by a dozen indelible marks of the beast. A coat of\nshort, dirty gray fur covered the creature from head to foot. Its\nhands and feet were claw-like travesties of human members. Its\npointed, chinless face with its projecting teeth and glittering\nlittle beady eyes was that of a giant rodent.\nThe beast in the clearing was apparently a leader of some sort, for\naround his throat was a wide collar of gray metal, with its flat\nsurface marked in rudely scratched hieroglyphics. Powell's heart\nleaped as he noted the collar. In this creature before him he had\nhis second clue to the whereabouts of Joan Marlowe.\nNot only was the collar practically identical to the one worn by the\nskeleton that had been materialized in the egg back in the\nlaboratory, but the skeleton itself was obviously that of one of the\nrat-men. Could it be this grotesque horde of human-like rodents that\nwas holding Joan captive in the Cave of Blue Flames?\nPowell tried desperately to think of some way of communicating with\nthe gray-collared leader. Then the beast shrilled a command that\nbrought hundreds of the beasts swarming into the clearing from every\nside, and in the face of the menace of their countless glittering\neyes and bared fangs Powell abandoned all thought of attempting to\nparley with the beasts.\nThere was another shrill command from the leader, and the horde\nclosed in. Both of Powell's guns flamed in a crashing leaden hail\nthat swept the close-packed ranks of furry bodies with murderous\neffect. But he was doomed by sheer weight of numbers.\nThe rat-men directly in front of the blazing pistols wavered\nmomentarily, but the press of the hundreds behind them swept them\ninexorably forward. Powell emptied both guns in a last vain effort.\nThen he was swept from his feet, and the horde surged over him.\nBlinded and smothered by the dozens of furry bodies that swarmed\nover him, he had hardly a chance to even try to fight back. His\ncartridge-belt and guns, his Silver Belts and his wrist-watch were\nstripped from him by the dozens of claw-like hands that searched his\nbody. Other claw-hands jerked his arms behind his back and lashed\nthem firmly together with rope.\nA blanketing sheet of some heavy fabric was crammed over his head\nand tied in place so tightly that he was completely blindfolded and\nhalf-suffocated. A noose was knotted around his neck. A suggestive\njerk of this noose brought Powell lurching to his feet; there was\nanother commanding jerk, and he obediently started walking.\nThe march that followed soon became torture for the captive.\nBlindfolded as he was, and having only the occasional jerks of rope\nto guide his footsteps, he stumbled and fell repeatedly, until his\naching body seemed one solid mass of bruises.\nAs nearly as he could judge, the horde had conducted him nearly two\nmiles when the path abruptly sloped downward. A moment later the\nsudden coolness of the air and the echoes about him told him that\nthey had entered an underground passage of some kind. After\ntraversing this passage for several yards they emerged into what was\napparently a large open area, for he could hear the excited\nchattering and squealing of countless thousands of rat-men on every\nside of him.\nHe was dragged forward a dozen steps more, then brought to a halt.\nThe blindfolding fabric was roughly stripped from his head. For a\nmoment he blinked dazedly, half-blinded by a glare of blue light\nthat flooded the place.\nHe was standing in a vast cavern. From dozens of fissures high in\nthe rock walls streamed flickering sheets of blue flame which both\nwarmed and lighted the place. There was a weird tingling glow in the\nair that suggested that the strange blue fires might be electrical\nin their origin.\nPowell looked eagerly around for Joan, but he could see no trace of\nher. The only other living beings in the big cavern were the\nswarming thousands of the rat-people. The brutes were apparently too\nlow in the evolutionary scale to have any but the most primitive\nform of tribal organization.\nSitting on a rude rock throne just in front of Powell was a\ngrotesquely fat, mangy-furred old rat-man who was obviously the king\nof the horde. Some thirty or forty rat-men, larger and stronger than\ntheir fellows, wore the gray-metal collars that apparently marked\nthem as minor leaders.\nThe great bulk of the horde, numbering far into the thousands,\nswarmed in the cavern in one vast animal pack, sleeping, feeding,\nsnarling, fighting. As Powell was halted before the king's throne,\nmost of them abandoned their other pursuits to come surging around\nthe captive in a jostling, curious mob.\nThe metal-collared leader of the pack that had captured Powell\npresented the rat-king with the captive's gun-belt and two Silver\nBelts, accompanying the gifts with a squealing oration that was\napparently a recital of the capture. The old monarch took the\ntrophies with delight.\nThe two Silver Belts were promptly draped over his own furry\nshoulders by the king--seemingly following the same primitive love\nfor adornment that inspires an African savage to ornament his person\nwith any new and glittering object he happens to acquire. The\nrat-king then graciously draped the cartridge-belt and holstered\nautomatics around the shoulders of the metal-collared leader who had\ncaptured Powell.\nThe king turned his attention back to his prisoner. He studied the\ncaptive curiously for a moment or two, then squealed a brief\ncommand. A score of the rat-men promptly closed in upon Powell, and\nbegan herding him toward a far back corner of the big cavern.\nStopping a few yards away from the edge of what seemed to be a wide\ndeep pit in the rock floor, the guard stripped Powell's bonds from\nhim. Powell made no move to take advantage of his freedom, realizing\nthat the swarming thousands of rodents in the cave made escape out\nof the question for the moment. He allowed himself to be docilely\nherded on to the edge of the pit.\nAnd the next moment he exclaimed aloud in delighted surprise as he\ngazed down at the floor of the pit ten feet beneath him. There,\nsitting on a low heap of stones on the pit's sandy floor,\nwhite-faced and weary but apparently unhurt, was Joan Marlowe.\nThe girl's face brightened in relief as she looked up and recognized\nhim.\n\"Larry! Oh, thank God you've come!\"\nThe leader of the guards motioned for Powell to jump down into the\npit. He needed no urging. A moment later he landed lightly on the\nsandy floor of the pit, and Joan was in his arms.\nThe rat-men left a dozen of their number scattered as sentries\naround the edge of the pit. The rest of them returned to the main\nhorde, leaving the prisoners to their own devices.\n\"I knew that you'd come, Larry, as soon as you got my note,\" Joan\nexclaimed happily. \"But how did you ever succeed in finding this\nCave of Blue Flame?\"\n\"I didn't find it myself,\" Powell admitted. \"I was captured like a\nboob and dragged here.\" He told Joan of his mishaps since arriving\nin Arret.\nThe girl nodded when he had finished. \"Much the same happened to me,\nLarry, only the red moon wasn't shining then. The only light was\nfrom what looked like the dim ghost of a big yellow sun. I\nmaterialized in Arret almost in the middle of a scouting group of\nrat-men. They took me captive immediately. When several minutes\npassed without you and Uncle Benjamin broadcasting the recall wave\nfor me, I knew that something terrible must have happened back in\nthe laboratory, and that I might be marooned in Arret for hours.\n\"I tried to hang onto my Silver Belt, of course,\" the girl\ncontinued, \"but when I was brought to the cavern here I saw that the\nking was going to take it. There was a notebook and a pencil in my\nlaboratory smock. I managed to write the note and twine it into the\nbelt just before it was taken from me. The king seemed to think the\nnote enhanced the Belt's value as an ornament. He was wearing it\nwhen I last saw it. Was he materialized in the laboratory with the\nBelt?\"\nPowell told her of the amber egg and the skeleton.\n\"The same sort of crystalline amber egg that accompanied the work of\nthe mysterious Tinkling Death, wasn't it?\" Joan mused. \"One of the\nking's lieutenants must have stolen the Belt, and reaped prompt\nretribution when he tried to flee. I wonder what that weird Tinkling\nDeath is?\"\n\"Possibly some strange weapon of the rat-men,\" Powell hazarded.\n\"No, they are as afraid of it as we are. While I was being brought\nhere to this cave the Tinkling Death was heard several times in the\ndistance, and the rat-men were obviously terrified at the sound.\"\nThe prisoners' conversation was abruptly interrupted by a rhythmic,\nsnarling chant from the vast horde of rat-men in the cavern above.\nThe chant rose and fell in a rude cadence that was suggestively\nritual in nature.\n\"They've been doing that at intervals ever since I was first brought\nhere,\" Joan commented. \"It sounds almost like the beginning of some\nprimitive religious ceremony, doesn't it?\"\nPowell nodded, without telling Joan the depressing thought in his\nmind. The rat-men were so low in the evolutionary scale as to be\nlittle more than beasts, and a prominent feature of nearly all\nprimitive religious rites is the sacrifice of living beings. Powell\ncould not help but wonder whether the chanting might not mark the\nbeginning of rites which would end with the sacrifice of himself and\nJoan to some monstrous deity of theirs.\nThe snarling chant continued with monotonous regularity for hours,\nwhile the prisoners huddled helplessly together there on the floor\nof the pit, awaiting the next move of the rat-men. Any thought of\nescape was out of the question. The sheer walls of the pit were\nalways guarded by alert sentries who had only to call to bring the\nentire horde to their help.\nWithout Powell's wrist-watch, the captives had no way of accurately\nfollowing the lapse of time, but they both realized that the\ntwelve-hour time limit upon Joan's rescue from Arret must be coming\nperilously near its end. They waited in momentary fear lest a sudden\nturmoil in the cavern above them should indicate that Benjamin\nMarlowe had broadcast the recall wave, whisking the two Belts back\nto Earth, together with the old rat-king who presumably still wore\nthem.\nThe chanting above rose slowly to a snarling climax, then swiftly\ndied away into silence. A moment later there came the sound of\nthousands of claw-like feet scratching over the rocky floor as the\nmain horde apparently began marching out of the cavern. A detachment\nof fifty rat-men appeared at the pit's edge.\nA rude metal ladder was shoved down to the captives, and a\nmetal-collared leader motioned for them to climb up. Seeing nothing\nto be gained by refusal, they obeyed. They were seized as they\nreached the top, and their hands again bound behind them. The\noverwhelming numbers of the rat-men made any attempt at resistance\nfutile.\nThere was no sign of the main horde as Joan and Powell were herded\nout through the empty cavern and out into the open air again. With\ntheir prisoners in the center of their group, the rat-men started\nalong a well-worn path that wound through the red vegetation.\nOverhead the blood-red moon still blazed down in lurid splendor.\nFrom somewhere ahead of them the captives began to again hear the\ndistant squealing chant of the main horde. They steadily approached\nthe sound, until abruptly they emerged into a huge clearing that had\napparently been a ceremonial assembly place for generations, for its\nsmooth sandy floor was packed down nearly to the hardness of rock.\nThe main horde of rat-men was there now, countless thousands of\nthem, packed in a roughly crescent-shaped mob, with the open side of\ntheir formation facing what seemed to be a large deep pit, some\nseventy yards in circumference. In the clear space left between the\nhorde and the edge of the pit was a smaller group, among them the\nold king himself.\nPowell's heart leaped as he noted that the Silver Belts were still\ndraped over the mangy old monarch's shoulders. If only he and Joan\ncould get their hands on those precious Belts before Benjamin\nMarlowe broadcast the recall wave that would forever snatch them out\nof their reach!\nThe captives were hurried through the main horde and taken in charge\nby a score of picked guards who herded them on to join a small group\nof four rat-men near the pit's edge. These four rodents were\napparently also prisoners, for their arms were firmly bound behind\nthem.\nThe rat-king, accompanied only by the metal-collared leader, around\nwhose shoulders the gun-belt was still draped, stood near the pit's\nedge some ten yards distant from the guards and captives. Between\nthe prisoners and the rodent monarch the edge of the pit jutted out\nin a narrow tongue of rock that extended outward for about twenty\nfeet over the pit.\nJoan and Powell had barely taken their place with the other captives\nwhen an abrupt and familiar sound drew their attention to the floor\nof the pit some thirty feet beneath them. Its smooth sandy bottom\nwas clearly visible from where they stood. And there on that sandy\nfloor were six great gleaming shapes of menace which brought\ninvoluntary gasps of horrified amazement to the captives' lips.\nThe faint musical tinkling sound as the things moved in occasional\nponderous restlessness was unmistakable. Joan and Powell realized\nthat the amazing organisms responsible for the mysterious Tinkling\nDeath were at last before them.\nThe things were giant _living_ crystals--great silvery\nsemi-transparent shapes nearly ten feet in height, their faceted\nsides pulsing in sinister and incredible life as they gleamed in\nunearthly beauty beneath the blazing rays of the red moon!\nNear the center of each of the giant crystals there was visible\nthrough the semi-transparent wall a large inner nucleus of sullen\nopalescence that ceaselessly swirled and eddied.\nTheir powers of movement were apparently limited to a slow,\nponderous, half-rocking, half-rolling progress on their heavy\nrounded bases. They were now grouped in a rough semicircle just\nunder the edge of the rocky projection that extended out over the\npit. The opalescent nucleus in every silvery faceted form seemed to\nbe \"watching\" with frightening intensity the figures on the pit's\nedge above them.\nThere was no mistaking the meaning of the scene. The giant\ncarnivorous crystals had obviously been lured from their normal\nhabitat in Arret's red vegetation, and established there in the big\npit by the rat-men to act as principals in their primitive religious\nceremonies.\nThose Devil Crystals waiting down there on the pit's floor were\nwaiting to be fed--and the small group of captives, rat-men and\nhuman beings, were to be the feast!\nUtterly sick at heart, Powell wondered if they would at least be\ngiven the boon of a merciful death before being hurled over the\nbrink to those lurking shapes. He was not left long in doubt.\nAt a shrill command from the rat-king the guards closed in upon the\ncaptives and herded two of the bound rat-men from among them. A\nguard placed to the lips of each of the captive brutes a small cup\ncontaining a faintly cloudy white liquid. Apparently resigned to\ntheir fate, the creatures docilely drained the cups.\nThe drugged drinks acted with startling rapidity. Scarcely a minute\npassed before the rodents' eyes clouded dully, their jaws dropped\nslackly open, and their bodies stiffened in almost complete\nrigidity.\nThe bonds were quickly stripped from the two stupefied creatures.\nThe ceremonial rites apparently required that the victims go to\ntheir doom unbound and of their own volition. The guards maneuvered\nthe two over to the rocky projection that jutted out over the pit.\nMoving with the stiffly wooden steps of automatons, the two victims\nstarted out along the narrow projection, leaving the guards behind.\nOn they marched, straight for the end of the rocky strip--and then,\nwithout a second's hesitation, they plunged on and over.\nTheir bodies crashed to the pit's floor squarely among the group of\nwaiting crystals. One of the rat-men lay motionless. The other\ndazedly tried to struggle to his feet--but was too late.\nFrom the side of the nearest Devil Crystal, some fifteen feet away\nfrom the dazed rat-man, a cone-shaped projection budded with\nstartling swiftness.\nA fraction of a second more and the projection had lengthened into a\nlong slender arm of crystalline silver that streaked across the\nintervening space with the swiftness of a spear.\nThere was a crashing, tinkling sound as the point of the arm struck\nthe furry body of the rat-man. Then the arm's point sprayed into a\nweb of shining filaments that laced the rodent's body inexorably in\ntheir web.\nThe arm immediately contracted, jerking the victim irresistibly\ntoward the waiting crystal. A second later the rat-man was pinned\nagainst the faceted crystalline side just under the opalescent\nnucleus.\nThe moment the furry body made contact with the crystal's side a\nterrifying phenomenon occurred. Crystals grew and spread all over\nits form with the lightning growth of water-glass. Faster and faster\nclustered the crystalline shroud, until the furry body was lanced\nthrough and through--and all the time the air was filled with\neldritch music as of a thousand sheets of thinnest glass crashing,\ntinkling and shattering.\nThe crystal growths over the imprisoned body rounded their contours\nand merged together until they were in the form of a great\ncrystalline egg. The outlines of the rodent's body blurred and\nvanished, melting swiftly until only a diamond-encrusted skeleton\nwas left. The color of the great Devil Crystal began to gleam pink\nas the victim's flesh and blood were absorbed.\nThe egg-like excrescence under the nucleus turned in hue to pale\ntranslucent amber in whose depths the diamond skeleton gleamed with\nweird brilliance. Then there came a sudden twang, as of a violently\nplucked string on a bass viol, and the amber egg dropped from the\nfaceted side. The Crystal's feast was over.\nOne of the most terrifying aspects of the whole thing had been its\nincredible speed. The entire tragedy had occurred in but little over\ntwo minutes from the time the lance-arm had first struck the\nrat-man.\nIn the meantime the body of the second rodent had been drawn in and\ndevoured by another of the carnivorous crystalline monsters. There\ncame a second twang now, as its skeleton in its amber shroud was\ndiscarded.\nPowell's brain reeled as he saw the other crystals move sluggishly\nnearer the foot of the rocky projection in anticipation of the next\nvictims.\nThe remaining two captive rat-men came next. They were swiftly\ndrugged, unbound, and started on their dazed march. They trudged\nwoodenly out the rocky projection to its end, then on and over; and\nagain the grim tragedy of the Devil Crystal's feast was repeated, to\nthe accompaniment of that eerily beautiful crashing, tinkling song.\nThe four Devil Crystals that had completed their gruesome feast\nmoved sluggishly away, leaving the space clear for the two crystals\nthat remained unfed. The score of guards closed in upon Joan and\nPowell.\nWith the crystalline doom at last staring them squarely in the face,\nPowell went berserk in a final desperate effort to gain even a\nmoment's respite. He lashed out in a writhing, kicking flurry that\nalmost cleared the space around them.\nThen three of the rat-men slipped behind him, and a second later his\nfeet were jerked from under him. His bound arms made him helpless to\navert his fall, and he crashed heavily to the ground. Then a dozen\nof the powerful little beasts swarmed over him, completely\noverpowering him by their numbers.\nClaw-like hands pried his set jaws apart. A cup of the cloudy white\nliquid was pressed to his lips. He choked; then, unable to help\nhimself, he had to let the stuff pour down his throat. It had an\nacid taste faintly reminiscent of lemons. The rat-men apparently\nwanted to make sure of giving him enough, for they poured another\nfull cup of the liquid down his throat before releasing him.\nThe guards then fell back and Powell stumbled to his feet. Joan was\nalready up again, standing close beside him. From the wry expression\nupon her face, Powell knew that she had also been given the drugged\npotion.\nFor a long minute the two stood there with every nerve trembling as\nthey helplessly waited for the paralyzing numbness to sweep over\ntheir bodies. The seconds passed slowly, and still their minds\nremained as clear as though the drug had been water. Another full\nminute elapsed without effect, before they could finally convince\nthemselves of the amazing truth.\nThe drugged drink of the rat-men, instantly paralyzing to those of\ntheir own rodent race, was utterly harmless to the human being from\nanother world!\nPowell instantly realized the forlorn last chance their unexpected\nimmunity to the drug gave them.\n\"Play 'possum, Joan!\" he whispered tensely. \"Then we'll make a\nbreak for the king and those Belts!\"\nJoan nodded slightly in quick understanding. Powell let his jaw drop\nslack and open, and stiffened his body in imitation of the stupor\nthe rodent drug victims had shown. Joan promptly followed his lead.\nThe alertly watching guards relaxed their tense vigilance in obvious\nrelief.\nThe guards waited another minute to be sure of the drug's effects.\nThen, apparently satisfied, they stepped forward and unbound the two\nprisoners. Powell let his bonds drop from him without making a\nhostile move of any kind. He wanted first to wait until he was free\nof the encircling guards.\nThe rat-men maneuvered the two into position, and prodded them\nforward toward the projecting point of rock. They obediently began\ntheir march, simulating as best they could the wooden mechanical\ngait of the drug victims. Powell saw from the corner of his eye that\nJoan was tensely watching his face for a sign from him.\nAs the captives reached the narrow projection the guards dropped a\ncouple of yards behind and halted to watch. It was the chance for\nwhich Powell had been waiting.\n\"Let's go!\" he shouted to Joan. The girl, alert for his signal, was\nright beside him as they wheeled and dashed at break-neck speed for\nthe rat-king and his sole lieutenant, some ten yards away.\nThey were upon the two startled rodent leaders before they even\nrealized what was happening. Powell swept the squirming old king up\nin the air, tore the Silver Belts from about the monarch's\nshoulders, and flung the creature sprawling and senseless at the\npit's edge.\nThe lieutenant leaped for Powell's throat in a belated effort at\nrescue, but Powell smashed a solid fist squarely into its snarling\nface, and the brute collapsed with a broken neck.\nSnatching his gun-belt from the fallen rat-man, Powell crammed new\nclips of ammunition into the two guns and wheeled to confront the\nrest of the rat-men. The detachment of guards, demoralized by the\ndazzling speed of the captives' sortie, were milling in obvious\nuncertainty.\nBehind them the thousands of the main horde were chattering and\nsquealing in excited frenzy, dazed and bewildered by their king's\nswift overthrow. The whole clearing was a seething mob of excited\nbeasts, stunned for the moment, but ready at any second to rally\nfrom their shock and surge forward in a furious charge that would\nsweep everything before it.\nPowell menaced the rat-men with levelled guns while Joan, with\nfingers that shook from excitement and haste, quietly buckled one of\nthe Silver Belts around each of them.\nThe guards rallied from their panic first. At a shrill command from\ntheir leader, they began cautiously edging forward toward Joan and\nPowell. The two gave ground slowly, working their way back over\ntoward the projecting tongue of rock. Out on the end of that narrow\nstrip, Powell knew that he could hold the horde at bay for a few\nmoments at least.\nThey reached the rocky projection, and began backing slowly and\ncarefully out toward its end. The guards, galvanized into action by\ntheir captives' retreat, suddenly came surging forward in a furious\ncharge.\nPowell emptied the two automatics in a crashing volley that nearly\nwiped out the charging guards. The few survivors turned and fled in\npanic back to the main horde. Powell reloaded his clips with\nfeverish haste.\nThe thousands of rat-men in the main horde were now milling in what\nwas apparently a last moment of hesitation before surging forward in\nan irresistible stampede toward the beleaguered two out on the rocky\nstrip.\nSeveral bolder individuals at the edge of the horde edged a step\nforward. Their example was followed by a hundred others. Another\nhesitant step or two--and then the whole horde was in motion.\nPowell swept the front rank with a rain of lead from one of the\nautomatics, holding the other as a reserve. The heavy bullets plowed\nmurder into the close-packed furry bodies. The charge wavered\nmomentarily. Then Powell felt Joan tugging frantically at his arm.\n\"Larry, the rocks under us are crumbling!\" she cried. \"We'll be\nhurled down into the pit!\"\nEven as she spoke, Powell felt the narrow strip of rock under them\nquiver and settle. He looked quickly down. All along its length, the\nnarrow rocky projection, weakened by their weight, was breaking\nswiftly away from the pit's edge. And on the floor of the pit below\nthem the two waiting Devil Crystals moved with musical, tinkling\nsounds as they waited restlessly for their prey to fall among them.\nThe horde of rat-men rallied and swept on forward in a wave that\nnothing could have stopped this time--but their charge was too late.\nThe entire rocky projection collapsed with a final sickening lurch,\nand slid to the pit's floor, carrying Joan and Powell with it in a\nminiature avalanche of rocky rubble.\nEven in the chaos of their wild descent, Powell retained his grip\nupon the loaded automatic in his hand. They struck the bottom and\nstaggered half-dazed to their feet, to confront the two crystalline\nmonsters rocking on their rounded bases scarcely ten feet away.\nThe fatal cone-shaped projection was already beginning to form upon\nthe silver-faceted side of the nearest Devil Crystal. Before the\nlance-like arm of crystal could flash outward, Powell sent two\nbullets crashing into the crystal's side just over the opalescent\nnucleus.\nThe leaden missiles caromed harmlessly off, as though they had\nstruck armor-plate, but the nucleus clouded momentarily and the\ncone-shaped projection dissolved back into the side.\nWith lightning speed Powell shifted his aim to the other crystal\njust as its partly-formed arm was flashing toward them. His bullet\ncrashed into the silvery side squarely over the nucleus. Again the\nbullet's effect was the same. This crystal nucleus clouded murkily,\nand the lance-like arm telescoped back into the faceted bulk.\nBut the effect of the bullets was only momentary. Swiftly the nuclei\nof both crystals cleared. A deep blue film, apparently protective in\nnature, formed between the outer wall and each nucleus. The cones\nbudded, and again the arms started forth.\nPowell fired again, and this time uselessly. His bullet struck\nsquarely, but the shock of its impact was apparently nullified by\nthe protective blue film. He emptied his gun in a last crashing\nfusillade, but without effect of any kind upon the film-guarded\nnuclei of the giant crystals.\nTheir forming arms never wavered as they came lancing forward with\ndeadly accuracy straight toward Joan and Powell. In a last effort to\nsave Joan from the terrible doom of the crystal lances as long as\npossible, Powell flung his own body as a shield in front of the\nhalf-fainting girl. The tip of one of the crystalline arms struck\nhis chest with a crashing tinkle of musical glass.\nInstantly the tip sprayed into a web of fine filaments that laced on\naround his body. A tinkling shock raced through his every nerve from\nthe contact with the weird life force of the great crystal.\nThe arm began contracting. Powell was helpless against the terrific\npower of the slender, diamond-hard lance of crystal. He felt himself\nirresistibly drawn toward the silver-faceted wall of the Devil\nCrystal.\nHis senses reeled in the babel of alien sounds--the crashing,\nglass-like music of the crystalline monsters and the snarling,\nsquealing, paean of jubilant triumph from the thousands of rat-men\nnow lining the rim of the pit above.\nThen suddenly the pit, the Devil Crystals, and everything else in\nthe nightmare world of Arret was blotted out in a vast swirling\ncloud of pulsing roseate flame that seemed to sweep him bodily up\ninto the air and whirl him dizzily around.\nHis dazed brain staggered from the shock of the cataclysmic force\nthat was disintegrating an entire world around him, but through the\nutter chaos one thought rang clear and exultant in his consciousness.\nBenjamin Marlowe had finally broadcast the recall wave!\nFor what seemed endless eons of time Powell hurried through a\nlimitless universe of swirling, tinted fires, while vibrations of a\nmighty force tingled with poignant ecstasy in every atom of his\nbody.\nThen the eddying clouds of flame began to coalesce and solidify with\nstartling suddenness. A moment later, like the abrupt lighting of a\nroom when an electric switch is snapped, the mists vanished and\nPowell felt firm footing again under his feet. Around him were the\nfamiliar objects of Benjamin Marlowe's laboratory.\nHe was standing upon the floor-plate in the center of the area\nbounded by the banked green tubes, and beside him stood Joan,\nsobbing with relief at their last-minute rescue from the Devil\nCrystals of Arret. And over by the control panel of the recall\nmechanism was the slight figure of old Benjamin Marlowe, with a\ngreat joy now shining in his faded eyes.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Devil Crystals of Arret\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Tom Cosmas from files generously made available\nby USDA through The Internet Archive. All resultant\nmaterials are placed in the Public Domain.\nTranscriber Note\nEmphasis is denoted as _Italics_ and =Bold=.\n=CRIMSON CLOVER=\nLEAFLET No. 160\nU.S.DEPARTMENT of AGRICULTURE\n  Issued June 1938.\n  Revised January 1947\n=CRIMSON CLOVER=\nBy E. A. Hollowell, senior agronomist, Division of Forage Crops and\nDiseases, Bureau of Plant Industry, Soils, and Agricultural Engineering,\nAgricultural Research Administration\n=Contents=\n  Seedbed Preparation                      3\n  Seed Sources and Varieties               4\n  Dixie Crimson Clover                     4\n  Rate and Time of Seeding                 5\n  Diseases and Insects                     6\n[Illustration: Figure 1.--Principal crimson clover regions of the\nUnited States. The dotted area shows where crimson clover was generally\ngrown before 1938. The cross-hatched area shows where production can be\nextended by using favorable cultural and fertilizer treatments and adapted\nvarieties.]\nCRIMSON clover (_Trifolium incarnatum_) is the most important winter\nannual legume of the central section of the Eastern States. This crop can\nbe grown over a much larger area by using seed of adapted varieties for\neach section, by using better cultural methods, and by fertilizing the\nsoil (fig. 1). Besides being an excellent pasture plant and furnishing\nplenty of hay, it protects the soil during fall, winter, and spring,\nprevents soil washing, and provides green manure for soil improvement.\nThis legume has the distinct advantage of producing large quantities of\nseed that can be easily harvested and sown without the use of expensive\nmachinery. Crimson clover is a native of Europe and is widely grown in\nFrance, Hungary, and other central and southern European countries. Seed\nwas introduced into this country as early as 1819, but it was not until\n1880 that the plant became important. The acreage has been steadily\nincreasing. During the 5-year period 1940-45 the annual purchase of seed\nthrough markets in the United States has ranged from 6 to 18 million\npounds. In 1935 about 2 million pounds were used. In addition, large\nquantities of home-grown seed are handled from farm to farm.\nThe common name of this clover is derived from the bright crimson color of\nthe blossoms. Other such common names as German clover and scarlet clover\nare frequently used. In general the leaves and stems resemble those of red\nclover, but are distinguished by the rounded tips of the leaves and more\nhair on both leaves and stems. When crimson clover is planted in fall the\nleaves develop from the crown and form a rosette, which enlarges whenever\nweather conditions are favorable. In spring, flower stems develop rapidly\nand end their growth with long pointed flower heads. Seed forms and the\nplant dies with the coming of hot summer weather. The seed is yellow and\nis about twice as large as red clover seed and more rounded.\n=Adaptation=\nCrimson clover does well in cool, humid weather and is tolerant of winter\nconditions where the temperature does not become severe or too changeable.\nIt may be planted from midsummer to late fall. In the northern part of the\nregion early seeding and growth are necessary for the seedlings to survive\nthe winter. It will thrive both on sandy and clay soils and is tolerant of\nordinary soil acidity. On very poor soils, stands are difficult to obtain\nand the growth is stunted. The use of phosphate and potash fertilizers and\nmanure on such soils will help to obtain good stands.\nCrimson clover may also be grown successfully as a summer annual in\nnorthern Maine, Michigan, and Minnesota. Winter culture can be extended\ninto Kentucky, southern Missouri, southern Indiana, and Ohio, provided\nvarieties are grown that are adapted to these sections and the seed is\nsown in fertile soils early in August.\n=Seedbed Preparation=\nThe most important and difficult part of producing a large crop is getting\na stand. Enough soil moisture to sprout the seed and establish the\nseedlings is the greatest factor in obtaining a stand. When established,\ncommon crimson clover usually produces a good crop.\nSeedings may be made alone or combined with winter grains, ryegrass, or\ngrass sod. It is possible also to seed between the rows of cultivated\ncrops, but it is difficult to make an ideal seedbed. Furthermore, the crop\nplants in the row shade the clover seedlings and use some of the available\nmoisture. If the row crop is planted in wider rows and seeded more thinly,\nthe clover will become better established. When planted between the rows\nof other crops, the seed is usually broadcast on the surface and covered\nby cultivating or harrowing. Drilling the seed after the soil surface has\nbeen stirred usually gives more complete stands than broadcasting, and it\nmay be done with a small one-horse drill. The seed should not be planted\nmore than one-half to three-fourths of an inch deep, respectively, in clay\nand sandy soils.\nCrimson clover is often seeded following a grain crop. This is a surer\nmethod of establishing a stand than planting between the rows of\ncultivated crops, provided the seedbed is well prepared. After the grain\ncrop is harvested the soil is plowed or disked and allowed to settle.\nThis is followed by light harrowing or disking to kill weed seedlings.\nBefore the clover is seeded the sod should be firmly packed, because a\nloose cloddy seedbed will not produce good stands. The seed may be either\ndrilled or broadcast, but drilling will give more uniform stands.\n=Fertilizers=\nGood stands and growth cannot be expected on very poor soils. Soil\nconditions can be improved by adding phosphate and potash fertilizers and\nmanure or by turning under such crops as cowpeas, soybeans, or lespedeza.\nIn many soils of low fertility the use of a complete fertilizer will\nencourage early seedling growth and establishment. On fertile sods crimson\nclover may be successfully grown without fertilizer, but on most sods\napplications of 200 to 400 pounds per acre of phosphate and 50 to 100\npounds of potash pay in obtaining good stands and vigorous growth (fig. 2).\n[Illustration: Figure 2.--Effect of phosphate application on good soil:\nTreated (left); untreated (right).]\nFrequently a single large application of phosphate and potash fertilizer\nis sufficient to produce two crops of crimson clover before it becomes\nnecessary to make another application. In some soils the addition of such\nminor elements as boron may improve growth and increase seed yields. Since\nthe need for minor elements varies from place to place, their use should\nbe based on the recommendations of the agricultural experiment station of\nthe State in which the clover is planted.\n=Seed Sources and Varieties=\nBefore World War II more than half the crimson clover seed used in the\nUnited States was imported, principally from Hungary and France. Since\n1938 domestic production has rapidly increased, reaching more than 18\nmillion pounds in 1942. Tennessee produced more than half the home supply.\nNearly all the crimson clover may be called common crimson clover, since\nit does not represent strains or varieties having special characteristics.\nWhite-flower strains and several others that differ slightly in maturity\nhave been selected but have not been used.\n=Dixie Crimson Clover=\nDixie crimson clover is a new hard-seeded variety that has given promising\nresults in extensive trials. It is more widely adapted than common crimson\nclover, as it grows well in the Gulf coast section and appears to be\nslightly more winter-hardy than common crimson. Dixie has successfully\nvolunteered to good stands when grown in pastures with Bermuda grass, with\nsmall grains for grazing, and in rotation with such cultivated crops as\nsorghum or late-planted corn.\nSeed of Dixie shattered in harvesting operations has successfully produced\ngood volunteer stands in fall. When used in rotations with cultivated\ncrops, the seed must be matured before the seedbed is prepared for the\nfollowing crop. When Dixie is used in pasture, care should be taken to\nprevent close grazing at the time of blooming, since it may limit the\nquantity of seed produced and cause thin fall stands. Summer-growing\ngrasses must be either closely grazed or clipped in fall to give the\nclover seedlings a chance to become established.\nThe seed and plants of Dixie cannot be distinguished from common\ncrimson clover, and the variety may be readily contaminated by either\ncross-pollination or mechanical mixtures. For these reasons the farmer\nbuying Dixie should buy only certified seed.\n=Rate and Time of Seeding=\nUnder ordinary conditions 12 to 15 pounds of hulled seed to the acre will\ngive good stands unless there is lack of soil moisture. Depending upon the\nquantity of chaff and pieces of stems, 45 to 60 pounds of unhulled seed\nis comparable with 15 pounds of hulled seed. Crimson clover may be sown\nfrom the middle of July until November, depending upon the location, with\nthe expectation of obtaining a good stand. The later it is seeded the less\ngrowth can be expected and the more readily winterkilling occurs. Early\nestablishment becomes more important as plantings are extended northward.\nSeeding crimson clover either immediately before or following heavy rains,\nif possible, increases its chances of making a stand. Spring planting\nin or south of the Corn Belt usually results in a short, stunted growth\nfollowed by little blossoming and low yield.\n=Inoculation=\nIn many areas where crimson clover has been grown successfully for several\nyears it is not necessary to inoculate the seed with bacterial cultures\nfor the production of nodules. But either the seed or the soil must be\ninoculated if crimson clover has not been grown. If the plants are not\ninoculated they will develop slowly, become yellow, and die. Inoculated\nplants are able to obtain about two-thirds of then nitrogen from the air\nthrough then root nodules. The plants may be artificially inoculated by\napplying cultures of the bacteria to the seed or by scattering soil from a\nfield where inoculated crimson clover has been grown. Two hundred to three\nhundred pounds per acre of such soil evenly distributed at seeding time is\nusually sufficient.\nWhen crimson clover is grown for the first time an additional inoculation\ntreatment is recommended if weather conditions are dry and hot after\nseeding. This supplemental inoculation consists in mixing commercial\ncultures with sand, soil, or cottonseed meal and broadcasting the\nmixture over the soil surface during cloudy, rainy weather as the young\nseedlings are emerging. A bushel-size culture mixed with 60 pounds of the\nabove-mentioned material is sufficient for an acre if distributed evenly.\nSoil from a field where inoculated crimson clover has been grown may also\nbe used for the supplemental treatment.\n=Unhulled Seed=\nUsing unhulled common seed increases the chance of obtaining thick stands.\nWhen the soil is dry, light rainfall does not cause the unhulled seed to\nsprout, but hulled seed germinates readily and the seedlings may die from\nlack of moisture before they can become established.\nIts bulky nature makes unhulled seed more difficult to distribute\nuniformly than hulled seed. It must be broadcast and may be harrowed in.\nIt is also difficult to market and is not generally handled by the seed\ntrade. But farmers can harvest seed for their own use and save the expense\nof having it hulled.\n=Companion Crops=\nRye, vetch, ryegrass, and fall-sown grain crops are often seeded with\ncrimson clover. Such crops are seeded at half to a third the normal rate,\nand the crimson clover is seeded at half to two-thirds the normal rate.\nSeeding is done at the same time, but, as a greater depth is required\nfor most of the seed of the companion crops, two seeding operations are\nnecessary.\nFarmers often use a mixture of 5 pounds of red clover and 10 pounds of\ncrimson clover per acre with excellent results. The first growth of the\nmixture may be grazed or harvested for hay or for crimson clover seed,\nwhile the second crop is wholly red clover. Dixie crimson clover has given\ngood results when planted with Johnson and Bermuda grasses.\n=Diseases and Insects=\nThe most serious disease that affects crimson clover is crown rot. The\neffect of this disease is seen early in spring and is characterized by\nthe plants dying in patches. The stems rot at the surface of the soil or\nwhere they join the crown. Continued damp, cool weather during winter and\nearly spring favors the development of the disease. This disease can be\ncontrolled by not growing clover or other legumes in rotation for 2 to 5\nyears.\nSandy soils in the southern part of the crimson clover belt are often\ninfested with nematodes. Nematode injury stunts and yellows the plants.\nWhile the clover-seed chalcid, the pea aphid, and other insects sometimes\nbecome numerous in crimson clover, insects do not ordinarily cause\nappreciable damage.\n=Utilization=\nCrimson clover grows rapidly in fall and spring and furnishes an abundance\nof grazing (fig. 3). If planted early and good fall growth is made,\nthe clover may also be grazed during the fall and winter months. Such\na practice has been successfully followed in many States where crimson\nclover is providing winter pasture. Crimson clover combined with small\ngrains or ryegrass has been most widely used for winter grazing. Crimson\nclover makes little growth during cold periods in winter. Under such\nconditions, to prevent close grazing, it is necessary to remove the\nanimals or shift them to other fields that have not been grazed.\n[Illustration: Figure 3.--Crimson clover provides an abundance of early\nspring grazing.]\nAnimals grazing on crimson clover seldom bloat; however, it is advisable\nnot to turn them into clover fields for the first time when they are\nhungry. Bloat is less likely to occur on a mixture of clover and grass\nor grain then when the clover alone is grazed. As crimson clover reaches\nmaturity the hairs of the heads and stems become hard and tough. When\nit is grazed continuously or when it is fed as hay at this stage large\nmasses of the hairs are liable to form into hair balls in stomachs of\nhorses and mules, occasionally with fatal results. If small quantities of\nother feeds, particularly roughages, are fed along with the clover, the\nformation of these balls will be reduced. Cattle, sheep, and swine do not\nseem to be affected.\nCrimson clover makes excellent hay when cut at the early-bloom stage,\nalthough the yield may be slightly reduced. For best yields it should be\nharvested in full bloom. The hay is easily cured either in the swath or in\nthe windrow. Fewer leaves are lost and less bleaching occurs in windrowed\nhay. Although yields as high as 2\u00bd tons per acre are not uncommon on\nfertile soil, 1\u00bd to 2 tons is the usual harvest.\nCrimson clover is an ideal green-manure crop. For best results it should\nbe plowed under 2 to 3 weeks before the succeeding crop is planted. This\ngives enough time for decomposition, which is rapid unless the crop is\nripe when turned under. Occasionally strips are plowed in which row\ncrops are to be planted, allowing the clover between the plowed strips\nto mature. Seed may be harvested by hand from the clover between the row\ncrops, and the remaining clover straw allowed to mat and serve as a mulch,\nor the entire plant may be permitted to form a mulch.\nCrimson clover may be made into silage by the same methods as are used\nfor other legumes and grasses. In orchards it is often allowed to mature,\nafter which it is disked into the soil. A volunteer stand from shattered\nseed may be obtained in fall by using the Dixie variety.\n=Seed Production=\nCrimson clover is a heavy seed-producing plant, and yields of 5 to 10\nbushels per acre are common, depending upon the thickness of the stand,\nthe extent of growth produced, and the care used in harvesting the seed.\nThe florets are self-fertile, but bees increase the number of seed\nper head by tripping and transferring the pollen. Placing colonies of\nhoneybees next to blooming fields will increase pollination. More seed is\nusually produced on soils of medium fertility than on rich soils, since\nfertile soils seem to stimulate the growth of stems and leaves rather than\ndevelop flower heads.\nLarge yields and ease of harvesting seed are two important reasons why\ncrimson clover is such an ideal legume crop. Farmers can save seed with\nvery little expense other than their own labor. When the seed heads are\nmature they readily shatter and are easily harvested either by hand\nstripping or by using horse-drawn home-made strippers. One bushel of\nunhulled seed contains about 2 pounds of hulled seed, and although bulky,\nit can be easily stored on the farm until fall.\n[Illustration: Figure 4.--Crimson clover seed crop cut with a mower\nequipped with a bunching attachment.]\nWhen the seed is mature the crop is cut with a mower (fig. 4), which\nmay be equipped with a bunching or windrowing attachment, or it can be\nharvested with a combine. During wet seasons it is sometimes difficult\nto combine the seed from standing plants. Under such conditions the\nplants can be cut and windrowed and than threshed by the combine from\nthe windrow. As crimson clover shatters easily when ripe, cutting with\nthe mower when the heads are damp with dew or rain is recommended. If it\nis allowed to stand too long after ripening a beating rain will shatter\nmuch of the seed. After a few days of curing, the seed is hulled with\nan ordinary clover huller, with a grain separator equipped with hulling\nattachments, or by a combine equipped with pick-up attachments or used\nas a stationary machine. The less the clover is handled the less seed\nwill be lost by shattering. Many troublesome weeds are difficult to\nseparate from crimson clover seed, including field peppergrass (_Lepidium\ncampestre_), wintercress (_Barbarea praecox_), and the bulblets of\nwild onion (_Allium_ spp.), which are probably the worst. Seed of the\nmustards, rapes, and turnips (_Brassica_ spp.), dock (_Rumex crispus_),\nwild geranium (_Geranium dissectum_), sorrel (_Rumex acetosella_), and\ncatchweed (_Galium aparine_) are also found in the seed. Little barley\n(_Hordeum pusillum_) is a pest in unhulled seed, and the use of such seed\nwill naturally increase the prevalence of this weed.\n                  U. S. GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE: 1947\n               For sale by the Superintendent of Documents,\n                     U. S. Government Printing Office\n                  Washington 25, D. C. -- Price 5 cents\n=Transcriber Note=\nIllustrations moved to avoid splitting paragraphs and closer to references\nin the text. Minor typos may have been corrected. Table of Contents added\nto facilitate searching for topics.", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Crimson Clover [1947]\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n  The Cavern\n    of the\n Shining Ones\nBy Hal K. Wells\n Layroh's hiring of husky down-and-outers\n   for his expedition is part of a plan\n             made ages past.\nIt was shortly after midnight when a persistent nightmare aroused Don\nFoster from sleep. For a moment he lay drowsily in his blankets there on\nthe sand, with memory of the nightmare still vivid.\nIt had been a monstrous flying thing like a giant blue-bottle fly that\nhe had been battling in his sleep. Memory of the thing's high-pitched,\ndroning buzz still rang in his ears. Then abruptly he realized that the\npeculiar buzzing was no mere echo of a nightmare. It was an actual\nsound that still vibrated from somewhere within the camp.\n[Illustration: _... Yet that thread held._]\nStartled into full awakening, Foster propped himself up on one elbow.\nThe sound was penetrating, but not particularly loud. He was apparently\nthe only one whom it had awakened. In the gray gloom of the desert\nstarlight he saw the blanket-shrouded figures of the rest of the men\nstill deep in slumber.\nHe realized the source of the sound now. It came from inside the black\nwalls of Layroh's tent, pitched there in its usual isolation on a slight\nrise fifty yards from the sleeping group. Foster grunted disgustedly to\nhimself. More of Layroh's scientific hocus-pocus! The man seemed to go\nout of his way to add new phases of mystery to this crazy expedition of\nhis through the barren wastelands of the Mojave.\nFor a solid week now they had been working their way back and forth over\na thirty-mile stretch of desert, while Layroh labored with his intricate\ninstruments searching for something known only to himself. Whatever\nreason Layroh had for recruiting a party of fifteen to accompany him was\nstill a mystery. So far the men had done practically nothing except\ntrail along after Layroh while he worked with his apparatus.\nIt was a state of affairs that caused the men little worry. As long as\nthey had enough to eat they were quite content. They were\ndown-and-outers, all of them, human derelicts recruited from the park\nbenches and cheap flop houses of Los Angeles. They had only one thing in\ncommon: all of them were large and powerful men.\nDon Foster was the youngest of the fifteen, and the only college man in\nthe group. A succession of bad breaks had finally landed him broke and\nhungry on a park bench, where Layroh found him. Layroh's offer of ten\ndollars a day and all expenses had seemed a godsend. Foster had promptly\njumped at the offer. Layroh's peculiar conditions and rules had seemed\ntrivial details at the time.\nFoster scowled as he lit a cigarette and stared through the gloom at the\nviolet-lighted tent from which the disturbing sound still came. Seven\ndays of experience with Layroh's peculiarities had begun to make them a\nlittle irritating. His sternly enforced code of rules was simple enough.\nNever approach Layroh unless called. Never touch Layroh's instruments.\nNever approach Layroh's tent. Never ask questions.\nLayroh neither ate with the men nor mingled with them in any way that\ncould possibly be avoided. As soon as they made camp each night he set\nup his small black tent and remained inside it until camp was broken the\nnext morning. No one knew whether the man ever slept. All night long the\nviolet light glowed inside the black tent. The men had wondered about\nthe unusual color of that light, then had finally decided it was\nprobably something required by the same eye weakness that made Layroh\nwear heavily smoked goggles, both day and night.\nStrange sounds in the night as Layroh worked with his apparatus in the\nblack tent were nothing unusual, but to-night was the first time that\nFoster had ever heard this peculiar whining buzz. As he listened it rose\nin a sudden thin crescendo that rippled along his spine like a file\nrasping over naked nerve-ends. For one shuddering second there seemed to\nbe an intangible _living_ quality in that metallic drone, as though some\nnameless creature sang in horrible exultance. Then abruptly the sound\nceased.\nFoster drew a deep breath of relief and ground his cigarette into the\nsand beside him. Better try to get to sleep again before Layroh started\nsome new disturbance with his infernal apparatus.\nHe was just settling down into his blankets when a movement in the tent\ndrew his attention back to it. Layroh was apparently changing the\nposition of the violet light, for his tall figure was suddenly\nsilhouetted against the tent wall in sharp relief.\nFoster started in surprise as another figure loomed darkly beside that\nof Layroh. For a moment he thought that the unprecedented had happened\nand some member of the expedition was inside those jealously guarded\ntent walls with Layroh. Then he saw that the figure must be a mere trick\nof the shadows cast by the moving light upon some piece of luggage. It\nlooked like the torso of a man, but the head was a shapeless blob and\nthe arms were nothing more than boneless dangling flaps. A moment later\nthe light moved on and both shadows vanished.\nFoster grinned sheepishly over the momentary start the distorted shadow\nhad given him, and determinedly rolled himself in his blankets to sleep.\nIt was after sunrise when he awoke. The rest of the camp was already up,\nbut there was one member of the party missing.\nJeff Peters' empty blankets were still spread there on the sand, but no\none had seen the big Negro since the camp turned in the night before.\nThe expedition's daily travels under the blazing sun of the Mojave never\nhad appealed particularly to Jeff, and he had apparently at last made\ngood his repeated threats to desert.\nThe men were just getting up from breakfast when Layroh finished packing\nhis tent and apparatus in his sedan, and started down toward the camp.\nAs usual, he halted some five yards away from them, standing there for a\nmoment in stony silence.\nPhysically, the man was a giant, towering well over six feet in height.\nOn several occasions when the expedition's cars had stalled in deep sand\nhe had strikingly demonstrated the colossal strength in his tall body.\nHis aquiline features, his red-bronze complexion, and his long black\nhair, were all suggestive of Incan or Mayan ancestry. No one had ever\nseen any trace of feeling or emotion upon his impassive features. Foster\nwould have given a good deal for just one glimpse of the eyes hidden\nbehind the dark-colored goggles. In their depths he might be able to\nfind some reason for the tingling surge of nameless dread that Layroh's\nclose approach always inspired.\nLayroh noted Jeff Peters' absence at once. \"We seem to have our first\ndeserter,\" he commented evenly. His voice was as richly resonant as the\ntone of some fine old violin. He hesitated almost imperceptibly between\nwords, like one to whom English was not a native tongue.\n\"It does not matter,\" he continued indifferently. \"We can spare one man\neasily enough. To-day we shall continue toward the east. Pack the truck\nat once. We are ready to start.\"\nWithout waiting for an answer, he turned and strode back to the sedan. A\ncurious thought struck Foster as he stared after Layroh's retreating\nfigure. What if the oddly distorted shadow he had seen against the tent\nwall last night had really been that of a man--had been that of Jeff\nPeters?\nFor only a moment did Foster mull over the idea. Then he promptly\ndismissed it as being absurd. He could imagine no possible reason for\nJeff Peters being in Layroh's tent in the middle of the night. The\nshadow had been only remotely like that of a man, anyway. There had been\nneither head nor arms to the figure, only shapeless masses totally\nunlike anything human.\nThey finished packing the breakfast stuff in the supply truck, and the\nparty started out along the trail with Layroh's sedan leading the way.\nFor nearly two hours they followed their usual routine, working steadily\neastward and stopping at regular intervals while Layroh made his\nmethodical tests with his instruments.\nThen near the end of the second hour something happened that abruptly\nsent a thrill of excitement through the entire expedition. Layroh had\njust set his apparatus up on a small sand dune beside the trail. The\nmechanism looked somewhat like a portable radio, with two slender\nparallel rods on top and a number of dials on the main panel.\nLayroh swung the rods slowly around the horizon while he carefully tuned\nthe various dials. It was when the rods pointed toward the southeast\nthat there suddenly came the first response he had ever received. From\nsomewhere within the mechanism there came a faint staccato ripple of\nclear beauty like countless tiny hammers beating upon a crystal gong.\nThe sound galvanized Layroh into the nearest approach to emotion anyone\nhad ever seen him display. The giant moved with the furious speed of a\nmadman as he returned the apparatus to the sedan and swung the car out\nacross the sand toward the southeast. After a mile he stopped and\nhurriedly set the apparatus up again. This time the crystalline signal\ncame in with a noticeable increase in volume.\nFrom then on the progress of the party became a mad dash that taxed the\nendurance of everyone except Layroh himself. After the first hour they\nentered a terrain so rugged that the cars had to be abandoned and they\nfought their way forward on foot. Layroh was forced to turn the\nradiolike apparatus over to one of the men, while he himself carried\nanother mechanism that consisted of a heavy silver cylinder with four\nflexible nozzles emerging from one end.\nThey held as rigidly as possible to a straight line toward the\nsoutheast, scrambling over whatever obstacles intervened. Their only\nstops were at regular intervals when Layroh checked their course. Each\ntime the crystalline signal came in with greater volume.\nTheir objective appeared to be a cone-shaped peak several miles ahead\nthat loomed up high above the surrounding rock masses. The oddly shaped\nmountain was identified by one of the men who had once been a Mojave\ndesert rat.\n\"Lodestone Peak,\" he announced succinctly. \"Full of iron, or somethin'.\nA compass always goes haywire within a radius of ten miles of it.\"\nIt was early afternoon when they finally arrived at a level area at the\nbase of the mountain. For the last two miles Layroh had not stopped long\nenough to make any tests. Now he set the radiolike apparatus in place\nsome ten yards from the face of a sheer cliff that towered high above\nthem.\nThe crystalline signal came in a rippling flood. He spun the dials. The\nsound ceased, and the pointing rods glowed with an aura of amber light\nat their tips. Swift and startling answer came from deep within the\nheart of the cliff, a mighty note of sonorous beauty like the violent\nplucking of a string on some colossal bass viol. So powerful was the\ntimbre of the pulsing sound that the entire side of the mountain seemed\nto vibrate in harmony with it.\nLayroh snapped off the apparatus and the sound ceased. Carefully\nsearching until he found a certain spot on the cliff face, he stepped\nclose to it and unlimbered the nozzles of the silver cylinder. Foster\nnoted that at the place selected by Layroh there was a five-foot-wide\nstratum of slightly lighter-colored rock extending from the sand to a\npoint high up on the cliff face.\nFrom the metal nozzles of the cylinder there spurted a broad beam of\ndead black. There was a searing flash of blue-white flame as the black\nbeam struck the cliff face. There followed a brief second during which\nthe rock melted into nothingness in the heart of that area of blue\nradiance. Then the stabbing beam bored steadily on back into the cliff\nlike the flame of a blow torch melting a way through a block of butter.\nLayroh adjusted the nozzles until the black beam was a solid shaft of\nopacity seven feet in height and nearly five in width. The hole in the\ncliff became a tunnel from which blue radiance surged outward in a\nshimmering mist as the black beam steadily bit deeper into the rock.\n\"Follow me,\" Layroh ordered the men, \"but do not approach too close.\"\nHe stepped forward and entered the mouth of the tunnel. Shaken by the\nspectacular thing occurring before their eyes, yet, driven by curiosity\nas to what might lie at the end of that swift-forming tunnel, the men\ncame crowding obediently after him. A moment later they were within the\npassage, stumbling dazedly forward through the billowing fog of bluish\nradiance. There was an odd, almost electric, tingle of exhilaration in\nthat radiant mist as it surged about their bodies.\nFragments of almost-forgotten scientific lore flitted through Foster's\nbrain as he groped for a clue to the action of the strange ray. Not\nquite complete disintegration of matter, but something very close to\nit--probably the transformation of matter into radiant energy, an\ningenious harnessing of the same forces that are forever at work in the\ncosmic crucibles of the universe's myriad suns.\nThe action of the black ray was amazingly rapid. They were forced to\nhurry forward at a fast walk to keep their distance behind Layroh. The\nvertical stratum of lighter-colored rock continued straight back into\nthe heart of the mountain. It apparently served as a guide. The color of\nthe blue flame-mist changed perceptibly whenever Layroh allowed the\nblack ray to stray into the rock at either side of it.\nFor nearly two hundred yards they bored their way steadily into the\nmountain, their path gradually sloping downward. The walls and floor of\nthe swift-forming tunnel were as smooth and hard as though glazed with a\nfilm of diamond.\nThen abruptly Layroh shut the black ray projector off as the rock ahead\nof them ended and they broke through into another larger tunnel, dimly\nlighted by small globes of violet radiance set at intervals in the\nglassy ceiling. After thirty yards of travel along this tunnel they\nfound their way barred by a massive door of copper-colored metal.\nAt Layroh's imperious gesture the men halted a dozen feet back of him in\nthe tunnel while he brought something out of his leather belt-case.\nFoster was the only one of the group who was near enough to see that the\nobject was a small tube closely resembling a pocket flashlight.\nThe only break in the surface of the great door was a six-inch disk over\nnear its right-hand edge. Layroh slid this disk aside. Into the opening\nthat was revealed he sent a series of flashes of colored light from the\ntube--two red, three green, and two blue. The colors were the\ncombination to the light-activated mechanism of the lock. At the last of\nthe blue flashes there was a whirring of hidden mechanism and the portal\nswung slowly and ponderously open.\nLayroh beckoned to the men to follow him as he strode swiftly on into a\nvast room that was flooded with bluish light from scores of the radiant\nglobes. As the men passed through the door it reached the limit of its\nopening swing and began automatically closing again behind them, but\nthey were too completely engrossed in the scene before them to notice\nit.\nThey were in a great cavern whose glass-smooth floor was nearly a\nhundred yards square, and whose ceiling was so high that it was lost in\nthe shadows above the maze of metal girders and cables that made a\nwebwork some forty feet overhead. There was a feeling of almost\nincredible age about the place, as though it had been sealed away there\nin the heart of the mountain for countless centuries.\nOn every hand there was evidence that the cavern and all its contents\nwere the products of a race of beings whose science was one that was\nutterly strange to that of the modern world. At the end of the room\nwhere they stood were row after row of different machines, great engines\nwith bodies of dull silver metal and with stiltlike legs and jointed\narms that made them look like giant metal insects. Foster could\nunderstand few of the details of the machines, but he felt that in\nefficiency and versatility they were far ahead of Earth's best modern\nefforts.\nGrouped together in the center of the cavern were many assemblies of\napparatus linked together by small cables that descended from main\ncables in the girder-crisscrossed ceiling overhead. There was a soft\nhissing of sparks leaping between terminals and a steady glow from oddly\nshaped tubes which indicated that the mechanisms were still functioning\nin silent and efficient performance of their unknown tasks.\nThe piece of apparatus nearest the door was an upright skeleton\nframework of slender pillars housing in their center a cluster of coils\nset around a large drumlike diaphragm. Foster wondered if this were not\nthe signal device with which Layroh had tuned in his own portable\ninstrument. The principal piece of mechanism in the central space,\nhowever--a great crystal-walled case filled with an intricate array of\nrods and wires--was something at whose purpose Foster could not even\nguess.\nLayroh strode on past the central apparatus toward the back wall. The\nmen followed him. Then as they rounded the apparatus and saw for the\nfirst time the incredible things lining that rear wall, tier upon tier,\nthey stopped short in utter stupefaction. Before them was Life, but Life\nso hideously and abysmally alien that their brains reeled in horror.\nGreat shining slugs slumbered there by the hundreds in their boxlike\ncrystal cells, their gelatinous bodies glowing with pale and\never-changing opalescence. The things were roughly pear-shaped, with\nthe large end upward. Deep within this globular portion glowed a large\nnucleus spot of red. From the tapering lower part of each slug's body\nthere sprouted scores of long slender tendrils like the gelatinous\nfringe of a jelly-fish.\nThe things measured nearly four feet in height. Each was suspended\nupright in an individual glass-walled cell, its body supported by a loop\nof wire that dropped from larger cables running between each row of\ncells. There was steady and exhaustless power of some kind coursing\nthrough those cables. Where they branched at the end of each cell-row\nthere was a small unit of glowing tubes and silver terminals whose tips\nglowed with faint auras of leaping sparks.\nThe slugs were dormant now but the regular changes in the opalescent\nsheen which coursed over their bodies like the slow breathing of a\nsleeping animal, gave mute evidence that life was still in those\ngrotesque forms, waiting only to be awakened.\nFascinated by the tiers of glowing things, one of the men started slowly\nforward with a hand outstretched as though to touch one of the cells.\nHis advance aroused Layroh to swift action. The bronze-faced giant\nwhirled and swung the nozzles of the black ray projector into line with\nthe man.\n\"Back, _yaharigan_, back!\" he ordered imperiously. \"The Shining Ones\nhave slumbered, undisturbed for a thousand centuries. They shall not\nawake from their long sleep to find the filthy fingers of a _yaharigan_\ndefiling their crystal cells. Back!\"\nPanic-stricken at the threat of the black ray, the man stumbled backward\nto join his fellows. Layroh's startling statement of the incredible age\nof the shining things in the cases erased all thought of the\nexpedition's code of rules from Foster's mind.\n\"You mean that those--those _things_--moved and lived in the outside\nworld a hundred thousand years ago?\" he asked dazedly. \"But there is no\nindication of there ever having been any such creatures among Earth's\nearly forms of life.\"\n\"Fool!\" There was angry disdain in Layroh's resonant voice. \"They who\nslumber here are a race born far from this planet. They are the Shining\nOnes of Rikor. Rikor is a tiny planet circling a wandering sun whose\norbit is an ellipse so vast that only once in a hundred thousand years\ndoes it approach your solar system. Rikor's sun was nearly dead and the\nShining Ones had to find a new home soon or else perish. Then their\nplanet swung near the Earth, and their scouts returned with the news\nthat Earth was ideally suited for their purpose. There were barely five\nhundred of the Shining Ones all told, and they migrated to Earth in a\nbody.\"\n\"And they've been in this cavern ever since, sealed up like tadpoles in\nfish bowls?\" The question came from Garrigan, a strapping sandy-haired\nIrishman whose first blind panic at the black ray's menace was swiftly\ngiving way to curiosity.\n\"It was your ancestors who drove the Shining Ones into their retreat\nhere,\" Layroh answered grimly. \"When the Shining Ones arrived upon Earth\nthey found the planet already in the possession of a race of human\nbeings whose science was so far advanced that it compared favorably even\nwith the science of Rikor. This race was comparatively few in numbers,\nand was concentrated upon a small island-continent known as Atlantis.\nShining Ones and Atlanteans met in a war of titans, with a planet as the\nstake. The Shining Ones were vanquished in that first battle. They lost\na fifth of their number and barely half a dozen of their smallest space\nships escaped destruction.\n\"Planning a new and decisive assault, the Shining Ones planted atomic\nmines throughout the foundations of Atlantis. But the Atlanteans struck\nfirst by a matter of hours. At a set moment every volcanic vent on the\nEarth's surface belched forth colossal volumes of a green gas. Though\nthat gas was harmless to creatures of Earth, it meant slow but certain\ndeath to all Rikorians. Furiously the Shining Ones struck their own\nblow, setting off the cataclysmic explosion that sank Atlantis forever\nbeneath the waters of the Atlantic. Scarcely a handful of Atlanteans\nescaped, but Rikor's victory was a hollow one. Earth's air was so\nthoroughly poisoned that it would require centuries of slow ionization\nby sunlight to again make it fit for Rikorian breathing. The Shining\nOnes had at most three months before the slow poison would weaken their\nbodies to the danger point.\"\n\"Why didn't they go back to their own planet, then, where they\nbelonged?\" broke in the truculent voice of Garrigan again.\n\"That was impossible,\" Layroh answered impatiently. \"The few space ships\nthey had left would carry barely a score, and Rikor's sun was already so\nfar advanced in its swing away from Earth that there would be time for\nonly one trip. There was only one chance for survival remaining to them.\nThey knew of a process of suspended animation in which their bodies\ncould survive almost indefinitely without being harmed by the Atlantean\ngas. They would require outside aid to be awakened from that dormant\nstate, so a small group of them must remain active and embark for Rikor,\nto try to survive there until Rikor returned near enough to the Earth\nfor them to again cross the void.\n\"The dormant ones must have a retreat so well hidden that they would not\nbe disturbed during the thousand centuries that must elapse before they\ncould be awakened. The Shining Ones sped back to their base on the North\nAmerican continent and in the three months remaining to them they\nprepared this cavern here in the heart of the mountain. Radium bulbs\nsupplied its light. For the unfailing source of electrical energy needed\nto course through the dormant bodies and keep them alive they tapped the\nmagnetic field of the planet itself, the force produced as the Earth\nrotates in the sun's electrical field like an armature spinning within\nthe coils of a dynamo.\"\nIt was Foster who broke in with the question that was in the thoughts of\nthe entire party. \"Just where do _you_ come in on all this?\" he asked\nbluntly. \"And what was your reason for bringing us here?\"\nThere was blazing contempt in Layroh's rich voice as he turned toward\nFoster. \"_Yaharigan_ of Earth!\" he jeered. \"Your brain is as stupid as\nthe feeble brains of those true _yaharigans_ of Rikor whose physical\nstructure your human bodies so closely resemble. Have you not guessed\nyet that I am no contemptible creature of Earth--that this human shell I\nwear is nothing but a cleverly contrived disguise? Look, _yaharigans_,\nlook upon the real face of the one who has come to restore the Earth to\nits rightful masters!\"\nWith a single swift movement, Layroh snatched the colored goggles from\nhis face and flung them aside. There was a smothered gasp of horror from\nthe group. They saw now why Layroh had always worn those concealing\nlenses. There were no eyes in that bronzed face, nothing but two empty\nsockets. And from deep within the skull there glowed through those\ngaping sockets a seething pool of lurid red--the nucleus spot of a\nShining One!\nReeling backward with the rest of the men from the horror of the glowing\nthing within the skull, Foster dazedly heard Layroh's resonant voice\nring exultantly on: \"My ancestors were among the twenty Shining Ones who\nremained active. After placing their comrades in their long sleep those\ntwenty survivors set up signal apparatus in the cavern so that it could\nbe found again no matter how much the outside terrain might change. Then\nthey filled in the entrance tunnel with synthetic rock and embarked for\nRikor.\n\"There upon that dying planet generations passed. When the time came\nthat Rikor's sun again neared Earth, so rigorous had life become upon\nRikor that only six Rikorians remained alive. In order to increase our\nchances of winning through on the perilous trip to Earth, each of us\ntraveled in a separate space ship. The precaution was well taken. We\nencountered a dense cloud of meteors near Alpha Centauri and I was the\nonly survivor.\"\nLayroh gestured briefly toward the rows of many-armed metal engines.\n\"There are the normal vehicles for a Shining One's body--armored\nmachines powered by sub-atomic motors and with appendages equipped for\nevery task of peace or war. This synthetic human figure which I now wear\nwas donned only in order that I might have no difficulty in mingling\nwith Earthmen while I sought the cavern. It is an exact replica of the\nbody of an Atlantean, including artificial vocal chords. Even the\ncolored goggles necessary to hide the glowing red of my nucleus are\nsimilar to those worn by Atlantean scientists while working with their\nray machines--\"\nLayroh was abruptly interrupted by a scream of maniacal fury from Olsen,\na shambling Swede who stood near the edge of the group. Ever since\nLayroh's unmasking the Swede had been staring at him with eyes rigidly\nwide in terror like those of a bird confronting a snake. The steady\ncontemplation of the horror of the blaring red thing behind Layroh's\nempty eye-sockets had apparently at last driven the Swede completely\ninsane. He snatched a revolver from his belt as he leaped forward, and\nfired once. His shot struck Layroh in the forehead.\nThe bullet ripped through the surface of Layroh's face, then glanced\nharmlessly aside as it struck metal underneath. Layroh never even\nstaggered from the impact. The black ray from the projector caught Olsen\nbefore he could fire again. There was a searing flash of flame, then a\nswiftly melting cloud of blue-white radiance, and the Swede was gone.\nLayroh swung the projector back to menace the others. \"I had forgotten\nthat _yaharigans_ of Earth have weapons that might be annoying,\" he said\nevenly. \"Two more of you have pistols--Garrigan and Ransome. Toss them\naway from you at once. Hesitate--and the black ray speaks again.\"\nSullenly the two men obeyed his order.\n\"Good,\" commended Layroh. \"In the pits where you are going you will have\nlittle use for pistols. When I again take you from those pits you will\nquickly learn why I brought you with me. _Yaharigans_, I have called\nyou, and _yaharigans_ you shall be--Earthly counterparts of those\nmiserable beasts of Rikor who have for ages been bred only for the one\npurpose of supplying food for the Shining Ones. I knew that when I found\nthe cavern the process of awakening the Shining Ones would require that\nthey be carefully fed with the calcium and lime from the bones of living\n_yaharigans_, the normal food of all Rikorians.\n\"The few _yaharigans_ I had brought from Rikor were consumed on my long\ntrip to Earth. So I had to recruit a party of human beings to go with me\nand serve as the necessary food for the Shining Ones. My search for the\ncavern took longer than I had expected for I knew only its approximate\nlocation. My own body at last had to have sustenance. Last night the\nNegro, Jeff Peters, provided that sustenance.\n\"I shall feed those of you who remain to the first group of Shining Ones\nto be awakened. After that we shall be strong enough in numbers to sally\nforth and capture ample food for awakening the rest of our comrades.\nThen in our full strength we shall emerge and again become masters of a\nplanet upon which your crude race shall exist only as _yaharigan_ herds\nfor our sustenance.\"\nLayroh's resonant voice ceased. Keeping the black ray projector alertly\ncovering the men, he strode over to a closed metal door in the wall just\nbeyond them. He took a small tube from a rack beside it and opened the\ndoor by sending a flash of yellow light into the mechanism of its lock.\n\"Into the pits until I am ready for you,\" he commanded curtly. \"They\nwere first constructed for keeping our own _yaharigans_ while we were\nworking in the cavern, and they should serve just as well for you.\"\nWith the memory of Olsen's tragic fate still fresh in their minds, the\nmen obediently filed into the next room, with Layroh bringing up the\nrear. The room was little more than a single large cell carved from the\nliving rock, and lighted by a single radium bulb in the ceiling.\nIts smooth glasslike floor was broken at intervals of ten feet by\ncircular pits fifteen feet deep. At Layroh's order the men entered the\nfloor-pits, one man to each pit. As Foster lowered himself into one of\nthem he saw how grimly efficient a trap the pit was.\nAn unusually tall and active man might be able to jump high enough to\ntouch the edge, but the effort would be useless. Those glass-smooth\nedges were so cunningly rounded that they offered no possible purchase\nfor clutching fingers. The diameter of the pit, ten feet, was too great\nto permit any effort at climbing by wedging one's body between two\nopposing walls.\nLayroh sent every man into the pits but one.\n\"You will return to the cavern with me, Carter,\" he ordered. \"I have\nneed for you at once.\"\nThey heard the door clang shut as Layroh and Carter left the pit room.\nChaos reigned as the men flung their bodies against the pit walls in\nefforts to escape. There was the click of metal as several of them tried\nwith pocket knives to chip finger-holes in the walls, but the glassy\nsurfaces were of diamond hardness.\nFoster's brain was numb with despair as he began to realize the true\nmeaning of those sleeping things out in the cavern. Death in some\nunknown and horrible form was imminent for himself and his companions,\nhe knew, but his thoughts were going far beyond that, to the time when\nthe Shining Ones would emerge in all their resistless power to ravage\nand conquer a helpless world.\nThere could be little doubt as to the futility of Earth's best efforts\nagainst the advanced science of these invaders from far-off Rikor.\nEncased in their colossal machine-bodies of glittering metal, and armed\nwith such terrible weapons as the black ray projector, the Shining Ones\nwould be as invulnerable as men trampling an anthill underfoot.\nThe future status of mankind upon the Earth would be that of vast herds\nof human _yaharigans_, probably bred for ever greater bone content as\nmen breed cattle for superior food values. The picture aroused Foster to\na fury of cold desperation. If they could only escape from the pits\nthere might be a chance to trap Layroh and slay him before he brought\nthose hordes of opalescent slugs to life. Then escape from the cavern\nitself would be an easy matter. Even if the outer door had been locked\nsince they passed through it Layroh had the light-key and Foster\nremembered the combination.\nHalf a dozen wild schemes flitted through Foster's brain, only to be\ndiscarded as futile. Then suddenly he thought of something that had\nevery chance of success if only they were given time enough. Layroh in\nhis arrogance had forgotten that his prisoners were not naked brutes of\nRikor. In the very clothing the men wore was the means of escape from\nthe pits.\nFoster's voice cut through the babel in the room until he gained\neveryone's attention.\n\"Our only chance for escape is to get a rope between two pits,\" he said\ncurtly. \"Then one man can climb out while the other holds the rope.\nWe'll have to make that rope from our clothing. No one man can get a\nstrip strong enough, so we'll have to work the strips to a central man\nwho can braid them into a single heavy rope. I'm near the center. Get\nthe strips to me. Tear your clothing into ribbons, and knot them\ntogether. Use your knives, watches, anything to weight one end of the\nstrip. Then cast until you get contact with the pit next to you. That\nway all the strips can be worked to me.\"\nA period of feverish activity followed while the men went to work.\nLayroh also was busy. Through several narrow ventilating slits high in\nthe cavern wall they heard the hum of machinery.\nThe first of the men finished knotting their ropes together. With\nweighted ends muffled to deaden their fall upon the rock floor, they\nbegan casting to get contact with their neighbors.\nSuccess came slowly. There were often scores of blind casts made before\na weighted end came into an adjoining pit. But the time finally came\nwhen Foster had a twenty-five-foot length of rope strong enough to bear\nhis weight. He already had a single strand making contact with Garrigan\nin the next pit. Garrigan drew the heavier rope in to him, then acted as\nan anchor while Foster climbed to the floor above.\nHis downstretched hand pulled Garrigan to freedom. Getting the other men\nup to the floor was the work of but a few moments. They were a\nweird-looking crew in the torn fragments of clothing that remained to\nthem. Foster stationed them beside the locked cavern door so that they\nwould be hidden behind it when it opened.\n\"Wait till Layroh is safely inside,\" he ordered, \"then rush him. Get\nthat black ray thing out of commission first. Without that, we should be\nmore than a match for him. In the meantime you come with me, Garrigan.\nMaybe we can get a look into the cavern.\"\nBy climbing on Garrigan's broad shoulders Foster found that he had a\nclear view through one of the narrow ventilating slits. Layroh had made\nefficient use of the time since he had left the pit room. Suspended from\nsoftly glowing wires in the large central glass case was a circular\ngroup of ten of the Shining Ones.\nFoster's eyes widened in horror as he saw the object in which the\ntrailing tendrils of the luminous slugs were sunk. It was the naked body\nof Carter. As those sucking tendrils drew out the substance of his\nskeleton, Carter's body was changing slowly, horribly, sinking into a\nflabby mass of puttylike flesh.\nThe dormant bodies of the great slugs glowed perceptibly brighter as\nthey fed, and the pulsations of opalescence quickened. The Shining Ones\nwere beginning to awaken. Faint but unmistakable there came to Foster's\nears a low singing drone from the group.\nHe shuddered. He knew now why Jeff Peters' shadow had seemed so\ngrotesquely _boneless_. That droning buzzing sound he had heard from the\nblack tent had been the feeding cry of a Shining One--of Layroh. Then,\nhis horrible feast ended, Layroh had blasted what remained of his victim\ninto nothingness with the black ray.\nFoster was abruptly startled into action as Layroh turned from watching\nthe central case. Picking up the black ray projector, he started toward\nthe pit-room door. Foster scrambled down. With Garrigan he joined the\ntensely waiting group beside the door.\nThere was the sound of the mechanism unlocking. The door opened and\nLayroh came striding in. In a concerted rush the men were upon him.\nFoster's hurtling dive for the black ray projector knocked the apparatus\nout of Layroh's hands. It crashed to the floor with a violence that left\nit shattered and useless. Swept off his feet by the savage fury of the\nunexpected attack, Layroh went to the floor beneath the writhing group\nof men.\nThe metal sinews of his magnificent body brought him to his knees in one\nmighty effort, but the numbers of his assailants were too great. Again\nhe was beaten down while powerful hands tore at his limbs. The metal of\nthe ingenious machine that was Layroh's body began twisting and giving\nway before the savagery of the assault.\nHe staggered to his feet, flinging the men aside in one last mad surge\nof power, and lurched toward the cavern. His effort to slam the door\nclosed behind him was blocked by the swift leap of two of the men.\nLayroh staggered on into the cavern. Then suddenly the torn framework of\nhis legs collapsed completely, and he fell heavily on his back.\nThe men surged forward with a shout of triumph. But before they could\nreach Layroh's prostrate figure one of his hands reached up and opened\nhis skull as one opens the hinged halves of a box. From within the skull\nthere rolled a great shining slug, a sinisterly beautiful figure of\nglowing opalescence, with a scarlet nucleus! For one breath-taken\ninstant it rose to its full height of four feet, hesitated, as if warily\nregarding the horror-struck men, then with tendrils pressed into its\nbody until it was nearly spherical, the slug that had been Layroh rolled\nlike a ball of living fire across the cavern toward the cluster of\nmachines. Foster snatched up one of the discarded pistols from the floor\nand fired twice at that hurtling globe of flame, but both shots missed.\nA moment later the slug reached the machines. It fled swiftly past a\ngroup of smaller mechanisms and selected a gleaming metal colossus whose\nsize and formidable armament indicated that it was designed primarily as\nan instrument of war. With whipping tendrils the slug swarmed up one of\nthe metal legs and into a small crystal-walled compartment in the\nforward end of the machine.\nThere was the crackling hiss of unleashed sub-atomic forces somewhere\nwithin the metal body. The machine moved in fumbling uncertainty for a\nmoment as the slug fought to get control of mechanism that had lain idle\nfor a thousand centuries! Then swiftly full control came, and the\nmachine came charging toward the men.\nThey broke in wild panic before the onslaught of the metal monster. As\nan engine of war it was invincible. Six feet in height and nearly twenty\nfeet in length, it maneuvered upon its jointed legs with bewildering\nspeed and efficiency. A score of rodlike arms projected from the main\ntrunk, arms that were equipped for nearly every purpose. Some ended in\npincers, others in barbed points, and others in clusters of flexible\nmetal tentacles.\nOne of the men screamed in terror and broke for the door back into the\npit room. Foster flung him aside and slammed the door shut and locked.\n\"You'd be trapped like a rat in there,\" he grated. \"Our only chance is\nto stick together and fight it out.\"\nIt was a chance that seemed increasingly slight as they tried to close\nin upon the machine. Garrigan had recovered the other pistol from the\nfloor. He emptied it into the metal monster at a range of less than ten\nfeet but the bullets glanced harmlessly off as from armor plate.\nThe machine fought back with deadly efficiency. One of the\ndagger-pointed arms impaled a man like a speared fish. Pincers closed\nupon the neck of another, half tearing his head from his body. With the\nstrength of desperation the men wrecked the pillars-and-diaphragm\napparatus and from the debris tore metal fragments to serve as clubs.\nTheir blows against the thing's pistonlike legs failed to even shake it.\nTwo more men died before the grim efficiency of the stabbing arms.\nFoster had held the remaining bullets in his own pistol, waiting for a\nchance to use them against some vulnerable spot in the machine, but he\nsaw none. There was a bare chance that if he could gain the machine's\nback he might find some crevice through which he could send a telling\nshot. Cramming the pistol into his belt, he watched his chance, then\nused the debris of the wrecked apparatus as a stepping stone for a\nrunning leap that landed him solidly on top of the metal bulk just back\nof the crystal compartment.\nHe fumbled for the pistol in his belt, but before he could even touch it\na tentacle-tipped arm lashed down toward him, picked him off the thing's\nback, and flung him with terrific force high into the air....\nFor a breathless moment he saw the girders and cables of the ceiling\nhurtling toward him. Instinctively he grabbed with both hands at one of\nthe lower girders as his body thudded into it. His clutching fingers\nslipped momentarily, then held, leaving him dangling there at arms'\nlength thirty feet above the floor.\nHis wits swiftly clearing from the shock of that mighty toss through\nspace, Foster scrambled up on the narrow girder. Sitting astride the\nmetal beam, he looked down at the scene below.\nThe battle down there was nearly over. The glowing slug in the machine\nwas now obviously trying to capture the remaining men alive for further\nuse. Instead of slaying, its lashing arms fought only to stun and\ncripple.\nSix of the men still remained on their feet but they were trapped in an\nangle between heavy apparatus and one of the walls. In the central case\nthe ten semi-dormant slugs, still too inactive to take part in the\nbattle themselves, seemed watching the conflict with great unwinking\neyes of crimson.\nFoster groaned. The metal colossus was too powerful for their feeble\nefforts. It would take a bolt of lightning to have any effect upon that\nmighty engine of war. At the thought, Foster's heart leaped in sudden\ninspiration. There was lightning, the terrific electrical force of a\nspinning planet, in the cables up here among the girders, if he could\nonly release it.\nSlightly below his position and barely six feet away from him one of the\nmain power cables of the cavern was suspended from heavy insulators. If\nthe cable had ever had an insulating sheath around it the fabric had\nvanished during the centuries for the dull silver-colored metal was now\ncompletely bare.\nIf that naked cable could be dropped into contact with Layroh's\nmachine-body, the entire power of one of the cavern's main lines would\nbe grounded through the metal of the machine. The position of the cable\nwith regard to where the machine was now, was perfect for the scheme. If\nFoster could sever the cable just opposite him there was an excellent\nchance that the longer one of the free ends would drop directly upon\nthe machine.\nAnd in his possession he had a possible means of severing that\ncable--the pistol that was still crammed in his belt. There were four\nshots remaining in the pistol. The cable was barely half an inch thick,\nbut the range was so short that he could not very well miss. If the\nsilver-colored metal was as soft as it looked, the heavy bullets should\nbe enough to tear through it.\nFoster thrust the pistol as close to the cable as he could reach. Then,\nwith the muzzle scarcely a yard from the silver strand, he fired. The\nheavy bullet caromed from the cable's surface, but not before it had\ntorn a gash nearly a third of the way through it.\nThere was a sudden cessation of activity below as the slug in the\nmachine looked up at the sound of the shot. Swift inspiration seized\nFoster and he promptly sent his next shot down at the machine itself.\nThe bullet glanced harmlessly off, but his ruse worked. Apparently\nbelieving that Foster was merely trying another futile attack upon it,\nthe machine turned its attention back to the men it had cornered. Foster\ncould be attended to later.\nFoster slipped and nearly fell just as he fired at the power line the\nnext time and his shot missed. That left him only one remaining\ncartridge. Aiming with infinite care he sent his last shot smashing\nsquarely into the part of the cable remaining intact.\nIt trembled and sagged as the bullet cut the remaining metal nearly\nthrough. Only a bare thread was left, yet that thread held. Sick at\nheart over the narrow margin by which his effort had failed, Foster\nstared in despair at the nearly severed cable. It needed only one solid\nblow to tear that last thread of metal apart, but the cable was just\nfar enough away to be effectively beyond his reach.\nThen suddenly Foster's eyes narrowed. There was a way remaining by which\nthe weakened power line could be broken. A single hurtling dive out and\ndownward from the girder would send his own body crashing squarely into\nthe metal strand. Beneath the smashing impact of his one hundred and\neighty pounds the nearly severed cable was certain to break.\nFoster shuddered as he realized what that dive into space would mean. He\nwas not thinking of the fall itself. The thirty-foot drop to the\ndiamond-hard floor of the cavern would in all probability mean death or\nbroken bones, but that was a hazard which Foster was willing to take.\nIt was the thought of what would happen in the brief moment of contact\nwhen his body met that bare cable that drained the color from Foster's\nface. There was the terrific electrical energy from a spinning world\ncoursing through that silver strand, a force that in all probability was\npowerful enough to instantly char a human body to a glowing cinder!\nIf he could only insulate his body at the point where it would touch the\ncable he might have at least a chance of surviving the contact. The only\npossible insulating medium he had was the clothing he wore--a pair of\nheavy corduroy trousers and the sleeveless remnant of a woolen shirt.\nThey could be rolled into a bundle that would be bulky enough to at\nleast give him some protection from contact with the bare cable.\nLaying the empty pistol on the girder beside him, he stripped as quickly\nas his precarious perch would permit. Then, using the pistol as a\ncentral core to give body to the bundle, he swathed it deep within the\nfolds of the clothing, making a thick roll that he could hold in his\nright hand as he leaped.\nAt best the insulating qualities of the roll would be far from perfect,\nyet it might serve to minimize the effects of the cable's charge enough\nto give him some chance of escaping alive. His contact with the power\nline would be only for the fractional part of a second and his body\nwould be completely in the air at the time, out of direct contact with\nanything through which the cable's charge might ground.\nFoster crouched on the girder, his eyes fixed upon the scene below as he\ntensely waited for the best moment to make the leap. The machine had\nshifted its position slightly while he had been stripping. It was now\ntoo far over the right to be under the cable when it fell.\nFor a moment as the machine maneuvered still farther over to the right\nin its conflict with the cornered men, Foster was afraid that his\nopportunity had passed. An idea came to him and he yelled directions.\nOne of the men suddenly dashed to the left, apparently in a last frantic\neffort to escape the metal colossus. The machine flashed quickly over to\nhead the fugitive off. The maneuver brought it for the moment directly\nunder Foster's position.\nFoster's muscles tensed swiftly, then flung his body headlong out into\nspace. His aim was perfect. The bulky roll of cloth in his outstretched\nright hand struck the cable squarely with all the force of his hurtling\nbody behind it.\nThere was a searing flash of blue flame as the last thread of the cable\nsnapped, and a tearing flood of agony that blotted all consciousness\nfrom Foster's brain as his falling body hurtled on toward the cavern\nfloor.\nHe struggled slowly back to consciousness to find Garrigan and another\nof the men working over him. There was the stabbing pain of broken bones\nin his left ankle. With the men helping him, he sat up and looked\naround.\nThe scene was one of utter chaos and destruction. The falling cable had\nobviously found its mark on Layroh's machine-body and in its last\nfurious convulsions the metal colossus had completely wrecked the great\nglass case in the center of the cavern floor.\nThe machine itself was now nothing more than a tangled heap of twisted\nmetal. In its shattered crystal compartment was a torn blob of swiftly\nblackening gelatin--all that remained of Layroh, the Shining One. Other\nshredded figures of dead flesh marked where the ten half-awakened slugs\nhad died in the wreckage of the glass-walled case.\nAnd in the many tiers of small cells along the cavern's back wall were\nmore figures of death. The severed cable had been the source of the\nenergy that had kept those dormant figures alive. When that energy\nceased death had come quickly. Those figures in the cells were no longer\nShining Ones. Their bodies were already swiftly darkening in decay.\nFoster smiled grimly as he looked around the cavern. There were\nscientific treasures here that would revolutionize a world. It was a\nfitting retribution for the Shining Ones. When they had destroyed\nAtlantis they had robbed Earth of countless centuries of scientific\nknowledge and progress. Now, here in the cavern that had at last become\ntheir tomb, they were leaving a legacy of science that would go far\ntoward repaying that ancient debt.\nTranscriber's Note:\n    This etext was produced from _Astounding Stories_ November 1932.\n    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.\n    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and\n    typographical errors have been corrected without note.\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's The Cavern of the Shining Ones, by Hal K. Wells", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  The Cavern of the Shining Ones\n"},
{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\n[Illustration: \u201cDick,\u201d he trembled, \u201cWhat happen? You shoot this\nman\u2014you\u2014\u201d (_Page 174_)]\n                  \u201cDick Kent With the Mounted Police,\u201d\n                     \u201cDick Kent in the Far North,\u201d\n                     \u201cDick Kent With the Eskimos,\u201d\n                  \u201cDick Kent With the Malemute Mail,\u201d\n                      \u201cDick Kent on Special Duty,\u201d\n                  \u201cTom Blake\u2019s Mysterious Adventure,\u201d\n                      \u201cThe Valdmere Mystery,\u201d etc.\n               BOYS _of the_ ROYAL MOUNTED POLICE SERIES\n                STORIES OF ADVENTURE IN THE NORTH WOODS\n  DICK KENT WITH THE MOUNTED POLICE\n  DICK KENT IN THE FAR NORTH\n  DICK KENT WITH THE ESKIMOS\n  DICK KENT, FUR TRADER\n  DICK KENT WITH THE MALEMUTE MAIL\n  DICK KENT ON SPECIAL DUTY\n  DICK KENT AT HALF WAY HOUSE\n                      DICK KENT AT HALF WAY HOUSE\nJust before dusk, riding in on a slight swell, the canoe touched on the\nleeward side of the island. It was a wooded island, similar to a score\nof others that dotted that lake. There was little to differentiate it\nfrom its brothers except that in its very center the fir and balsam had\ngraciously withdrawn to permit a huge shaft of solid rock to raise its\nhead loftily and majestically skyward.\nThe three young men who disembarked from the canoe, stood looking toward\nthe shaft with something like eagerness in their eyes. Then one of them\nspoke:\n\u201cThere it is! The rock of the dinosaur!\u201d\nAnother of the trio, a stockily built boy with light blue eyes and sandy\ncomplexion, removed a battered felt hat that had been crammed down over\nhis well-shaped head and ran his fingers through a mop of corn-colored\nhair.\n\u201cBones! Toma\u2014bones!\u201d\nThe remaining member of the party, swarthy, dark, soft-footed, agile as\na panther, grinned as he stooped down to tie the strings of one of his\nmoccasins.\n\u201cMebbe this not right place after all,\u201d he said.\nThe first speaker turned swiftly at this and regarded the stooping\nfigure. What had induced Toma to make that remark? The description that\nhad been given them by Mr. Donald Frazer, factor at Half Way House,\nfitted this island exactly: an island in a lake of many islands, an\nisland with a tall rock. Dick Kent remembered as well as if it had been\nonly yesterday.\n\u201cIt\u2019s three hundred miles northwest of here in a country of innumerable\nlakes,\u201d the factor had directed them. \u201cThese lakes all drain into the\nHalf Way River. They are all very close together, forming a sort of\nchain. Most of the lakes are dotted with a few islands, but there is one\nlake, near the center of the chain, that has more islands than all the\nrest\u2014scores of small wooded islands. On one of these you will find a\ntall, spindling rock. The island with that rock is the island of the\ndinosaur.\u201d\nSo remembering this conversation, Dick could not believe with Toma that\nthey might have come to the wrong place. Here was the wooded island.\nHere was the spindling rock. Here was the lake of many islands.\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you think it\u2019s the right place?\u201d he demanded.\nThe young Indian straightened up quickly, his eyes twinkling.\n\u201cWhy you get so worried, Dick?\u201d he inquired blandly. \u201cI no say this the\nwrong place. Mebbe so, mebbe not. Plenty islands I see in other lakes\nan\u2019 plenty rocks too.\u201d\n\u201cBut not a rock as tall as that one,\u201d objected Sandy.\nDick nodded his head.\n\u201cYes, and most of the other lakes we explored had only a few islands.\nThis one tallies exactly with the description Mr. Frazer gave us.\u201d\nToma grinned again.\n\u201cAll right,\u201d he waved their arguments aside. \u201cWhat you say, we go see?\u201d\nThe three boys pushed forward. The island was scarcely more than four or\nfive acres in area. In a few minutes they reached the center, coming to\na full stop near the base of the pinnacle. They found a peculiar\nformation here. In some prehistoric time a gigantic upheaval had thrust\nthe underlying strata to a position very nearly perpendicular. In other\nwords, layer upon layer of substratum had been lifted up out of the\nearth and exposed to view. Embedded in one of the layers of rock was the\nhuge fossil of a prehistoric reptile. Its immense frame could be seen\nvery distinctly from where the boys were standing. Supported by the\nrock, much of which had crumbled away, the skull of the dinosaur rested\nlightly against the side of the pinnacle and the bones of the rest of\nthe body, still joined and intact, extended downward to the edge of a\ndeep pit.\nThe effect of all this was ghastly. Staring at it, one was conscious of\nan indescribable feeling that the fleshless body of the dinosaur still\nretained life and that it had clambered out of the deep pit beneath it\nand was now endeavoring to climb the tall, spindling spire of granite.\nSo lifelike and terrible indeed, did the primeval monster appear, that\nfor a full five minutes the three boys stood there without as much as\nmoving a muscle.\nSuddenly the tension snapped as Dick burst into a roar of laughter. He\nlaughed until the tears came into his eyes and coursed down his cheeks.\nHe roared and slapped his thigh and sat down on a rock, swaying back and\nforth in a paroxysm of uncontrollable mirth.\nToma and Sandy stared at their chum in utter amazement. They surveyed\neach other blankly. They looked quickly over at the dinosaur in the\nbelief that possibly they had overlooked something.\n\u201cSee here,\u201d began Sandy, \u201cwhat in the name of common sense are you\nyowling about? If you can possibly see anything funny in that grewsome\nmass of bones your sense of humor is warped. Stop it, Dick! Stop it, I\nsay before you drive me daft. Stop!\u201d\nDick raised his head and wiped his eyes. He was still choking.\n\u201cYou\u2014you see nothing funny?\u201d he gasped.\n\u201cI do not!\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you think of our friend, the dinosaur?\u201d and Dick indulged in\nanother convulsive chuckle.\nSandy\u2019s eyes flashed fire.\n\u201cSay\u2014\u201d\n\u201cLook at it! Look at it!\u201d shrieked Dick. \u201cIts size! Must weigh\ntons\u2014tons, Sandy. And\u2014we\u2019ve come\u2014three hundred miles\u2014laboring under\nimpression\u2014going to carry it back on a raft.\u201d\n\u201cWell\u2014\u201d\n\u201cOn a raft,\u201d continued Dick. \u201cThat thing on a raft. If you can, just get\nthat picture in that slow mind of yours.\u201d\nToma was grinning broadly now.\n\u201cThe portages,\u201d he wondered.\n\u201cYes, think of carrying that huge skeleton over the portages.\u201d\n\u201cWhy it\u2014it can\u2019t be done,\u201d stated the young Scotchman, beginning to see\nthe light. \u201cAbsolutely out of question. We\u2019ve come on a fool\u2019s errand.\nMr. Frazer must have\u2014\u201d\n\u201cKnown it!\u201d Dick took the words out of his chum\u2019s mouth. \u201cOf course, he\nknew it. Can\u2019t you see, Sandy, we\u2019ve been victimized, made the butt of\none of the worst jokes I\u2019ve ever heard of. No wonder they all grinned\nand acted so queerly when we left the post. By this time, half the\npeople in this north country are laughing up their sleeves. It\u2019s all a\nhoax. I\u2019ll bet that London museum Mr. Frazer told us about hasn\u2019t even\nmade an offer for this dinosaur.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean the whole affair from beginning to end was planned by that\nfool and his friends?\u201d\n\u201cExactly.\u201d\n\u201cAnd that we\u2019ve not only lost what we thought was a chance to make a few\nhundred dollars but have become the laughing stock of\u2014of\u2014\u201d Sandy choked\nand gurgled.\n\u201cRight again,\u201d grinned Dick. \u201cYou\u2019re learning fast.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s color drained from his cheeks and he sat down quickly,\nendeavoring to control the fierce gathering storm within.\n\u201cAnd _you_ call that a good joke,\u201d he inquired bitterly, \u201ca friendly,\ndecent joke that sent us packing through a hundred dangers at the risk\nof life and limb? _You_ can laugh at that?\u201d\n\u201cWell, what would you have me do? Sit down and cry? Not I. Might as well\nmake the best of it. I\u2019ll go back and laugh with \u2019em.\u201d\n\u201cI laugh too,\u201d said Toma. And he did.\nSandy continued to glower. He looked up at the dinosaur. Then he put his\nhead in his hands and groaned.\nDick Kent had plenty of time that night to think about the crude joke\nMr. Frazer, the factor at Half Way House, had played upon them. The\nfactor must have known full well that the mammoth skeleton of the\ndinosaur could not be conveyed easily up the river on an ordinary raft.\nHe must have known, too, of the utter impossibility of packing the huge\ncreature over the thirteen portages that are to be found between the\nisland of the granite shaft and the trading post, three hundred miles up\nthe river.\nGiven sufficient leisure to think the matter over, Dick decided that he\ndid not blame Sandy one bit for the anger and bitterness that Frazer\u2019s\ntrickery had aroused. The young Scotchman had eaten his supper in a huff\nand later had retired to his blankets in a manner that was, to say the\nvery least, thoroughly hostile and unfriendly. His actions indicated\nvery plainly that he, for one, didn\u2019t consider this business of the\ndinosaur as the sort of joke that could pass unnoticed or unforgiven, or\nthat could be laughed down or yet dismissed with a shrug. It rankled and\ncut deep. Some day Mr. Frazer would hear about it.\nDick turned his eyes toward the campfire and watched the shadows\ncreeping up to the bright circle its glimmering light made. He lay quite\nstill, listening to the monotonous beat of the water around the shore of\nthe island. He was dimly aware of the tall granite slab that thrust up\nits pointed head in cold disdain of the lowly trees under it. Far away\nsomewhere a loon called out mockingly and derisively to its mate.\nSandy woke on the following morning in a better humor. Over a hot cup of\ntea and a crisp rasher of bacon, he apologized for his behavior on the\nprevious night.\n\u201cI had no reason to be angry with you, Dick,\u201d he stated contritely. \u201cBut\nyou irritated me because you took it all so good-naturedly. It can\u2019t be\ndenied that the joke is on us, but you surely know that he went too far\nwith it. He never should have permitted us to start out. Our time is\nworth something and we paid the factor a good stiff price for our\ngrubstake. Then there are all those cumbersome tools we brought\nalong\u2014rock chisels, pickaxes, hatchets and what not. We paid for them\nout of our own hard-earned money. A very expensive practical joke, if\nyou ask me.\u201d\nIn the act of raising a cup of steaming beverage to his lips, Toma\npaused and his dark eyes fell upon Sandy\u2019s face.\n\u201cMebbe not so much joke like you think. Mebbe Mr. Frazer him not want us\nto stay at Half Way House any longer. Mebbe he think your Uncle Walter\nsend us fellows down to spy on him an\u2019 he no like that.\u201d\nBoth Dick and Sandy started. They had never looked at the situation from\nquite that angle. The young Indian\u2019s statement had induced a new train\nof thought. Come to think of it, why had Sandy\u2019s uncle, Mr. Walter\nMacClaren, factor at Fort Good Faith and superintendent for the Hudson\nBay Company for all that vast northern territory, sent them over to Half\nWay House in the first place? Sandy looked at Dick searchingly for\nanother moment, then broke forth:\n\u201cGee, I never thought about that. Toma, you\u2019re too deep for us. I can\nbegin to see now.\u201d\nDick pursed his lips, scowling slightly.\n\u201cMr. MacClaren said that the hunting was good up around Half Way House\nand that we\u2019d enjoy our summer\u2019s vacation there. He didn\u2019t tell us that\nhe was suspicious of Mr. Frazer. Naturally he wouldn\u2019t. He wanted us to\nfind that out for ourselves. Sandy,\u201d he glanced eagerly across at his\nchum, \u201cas far as you know, has Mr. Frazer a reputation for being much of\na practical joker?\u201d\nSandy put down his cup and proceeded to pour out his second helping of\ntea.\n\u201cNo, I\u2019ve never heard that he was. And certainly he doesn\u2019t look the\npart. I wouldn\u2019t call him frivolous. My impression of him has always\nbeen that he is inclined to be sort of taciturn, reserved and fairly\nuncommunicative.\u201d\nAt this juncture, Toma again broke into the discussion.\n\u201cHe not look like man that see anything to laugh about ever. I no like\nthat fellow very much. I no like them friends he keep alla time hanging\naround the post. Look like bad men to me.\u201d\nOn many occasions previously during their sojourn in the North, the two\nboys had come to place a good deal of reliance on the young Indian\u2019s\nsnap judgment. He had an almost uncanny ability to read character and of\nfinding hidden traits, both good and bad, in the persons with whom he\ncame in contact. Seldom did he err.\n\u201cHe\u2019s referring to Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cWell, I\ndon\u2019t know as one could call them Frazer\u2019s friends.\u201d\n\u201cI see Mr. Frazer talk with them many times,\u201d Toma wagged his head.\n\u201cWhen I come close they hush up\u2014don\u2019t talk any more. An\u2019 one time I see\na light in Mr. Frazer\u2019s room late, \u2019bout two o\u2019clock, I think. An\u2019 there\nthrough the window I see \u2019em. Wolf Brennan, McCallum, Frazer an\u2019 two\nIndians I do not know.\u201d\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell us this before?\u201d demanded Dick.\nThat was the way with Toma\u2014ever reticent. His uncommunicativeness often\nbecame a source of despair to his two chums.\n\u201cYou no ask me.\u201d\n\u201cBut how did we know?\u201d glared Sandy. \u201cWe weren\u2019t up at two o\u2019clock that\nnight.\u201d\n\u201cI no tell you that,\u201d Toma explained, \u201cbecause I think mebbe you no want\nto hear bad things about Mr. Frazer.\u201d\n\u201cYou cherub!\u201d Sandy snorted.\n\u201cSandy,\u201d questioned Dick, \u201chow does Mr. Frazer stand with the company?\u201d\nSandy stirred the oatmeal, sugar and bacon grease together in what was\nto Dick an unappetizing mess.\n\u201cUncle Walter never told me.\u201d\n\u201cBut haven\u2019t you heard?\u201d Dick persisted.\n\u201cNo, I haven\u2019t,\u201d Sandy commenced to eat his favorite dish. \u201cUncle Walter\nnever tells me anything about his business. He\u2019s as close-mouthed as the\naverage Scotchman, I guess.\u201d\n\u201cThere are some ways in which you do not resemble him in the least,\u201d\npointed out Dick, winking at Toma.\nNo more was said on the subject then. As soon as they had washed their\nbreakfast dishes, Dick and Sandy went over for another view of the\ndinosaur, while Toma set out to explore the island. The dinosaur, in the\nbright morning sunlight, seemed to be as ugly and repellent as it had\nbeen in the evening\u2019s shadows on the night before. Again they were awed\nby its presence. It seemed inconceivable that anything so huge and ugly\nhad ever walked upon the earth.\n\u201cHow\u2019d you like to meet one of those things alive?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cNot for me. A bullet would probably flatten out on its scaly hide. At\nthe best, it would feel like no more than a pin-prick. And Mr. Frazer\ntold us we could bring that thing back on a raft. He must have known\nbetter, because he was here two years ago and saw it with his own eyes.\u201d\n\u201cOf course, he knew better,\u201d growled Sandy.\nThe bushes parted behind them. First Toma\u2019s head was thrust through and\nthen his body. He motioned to them eagerly.\n\u201cCome on,\u201d he said. \u201cI show you something. Come quick!\u201d\nThey turned and followed him, finding it difficult to keep pace with\nhim, so quickly did he go. They came presently to a fringe of willows\nnot far from the western shore of the lake. The young Indian motioned\nthem to be seated.\n\u201cWatch out there in the lake,\u201d he commanded them. \u201cPretty soon you see\nsomething. Keep very quiet. No talk now.\u201d\nBoth waited expectantly. Out ahead of them the lake rippled and\nsparkled. Suddenly a canoe glided within their range of vision\u2014a canoe\ncontaining two occupants. Their paddles dipping in unison, the two men\nsat very straight, one in, the center and one in the stern, two mackinaw\ncoated figures, two bearded white men whom the boys recognized\ninstantly. In the excitement of the moment, Sandy jabbed his elbow in\nDick\u2019s ribs.\n\u201cCracky!\u201d he blurted out. \u201cWhat\u2019s up now? Wolf Brennan and Toby\nMcCallum! They\u2019re coming here.\u201d\nBut in this Sandy was mistaken. The canoe did not pause, did not waver.\nIt swept in fairly close to the island then, as if it had suddenly\nchanged its mind, it swerved sharply and continued on its course. The\ntwo men sat like statues until they were thirty or forty yards away.\nThen Wolf Brennan craned his thick, bull-like neck and looked back.\nEven at that distance the boys caught the expression that distorted the\nman\u2019s coarse features. A leer, a mocking, unfriendly grin, a diabolical,\nfiendish sneer!\nAbruptly he turned and the paddle, gripped in his huge ape-like hands,\nglinted in the sunlight as it smote the gleaming water.\n\u201cNow what are they up to?\u201d\nDick\u2019s hands clenched as he spoke. He half rose from his kneeling\nposition behind the willow copse and glared at Sandy as if he expected\nthat that young man could answer the question.\n\u201cYes, what are they up to?\u201d he repeated in a low tense voice. \u201cMessrs.\nBrennan and McCallum must be on our trail. And from the look that Wolf\njust now directed toward this island, they know we\u2019re here. The whole\nthing is a puzzle to me. I don\u2019t know what to think of it.\u201d\n\u201cWhat I can\u2019t understand,\u201d said Sandy in a breathless voice, \u201cis why\nthey did not stop. They\u2019ve gone right on. The reasonable and decent\nthing for them to do would be to come over and say \u2018hello\u2019. They might,\nat least, have shown that they were hospitable.\u201d\n\u201cWonder if Frazer sent them,\u201d mused Dick.\nSandy pursed his lips and scowled as he looked out toward the flashing\ncrests of water.\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t wonder,\u201d he answered. \u201cNow that we\u2019ve found the little\njoker in this deal of the dinosaur, I\u2019m inclined to think he has.\nFurther than that, I\u2019m prompted to believe that there was something more\nthan the mere playing of a practical joke that induced Factor Frazer to\nget us to come out here. There must be some deviltry afoot at Half Way\nHouse. Our presence there isn\u2019t wanted. He sent us up here on this wild\ngoose chase to get us out of the way, and, working on this hypothesis,\nthe next logical inference is that Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum have\ntrailed us all the way up here.\u201d\nDick motioned Sandy and Toma to follow him to the opposite side of the\nisland. Arriving at their camp, he turned upon his two chums.\n\u201cI\u2019ve been thinking of what you\u2019ve just said, Sandy,\u201d he remarked, as he\nbegan packing their luggage. \u201cI want to tell you that I believe you\u2019ve\nhit the nail on the head. Something underhanded is taking place at Half\nWay House. We\u2019ve been sent out here to be kept in ignorance of what is\ngoing on. They know that all of us are attached to the Mounted Police\nreserve and it would be fatal to their plans to have us there at the\npost. Wolf Brennan and his pal are out here to watch us, to see that we\ndo not return. I\u2014\u201d\nThe young Scotchman interrupted him.\n\u201cHold on there a moment, Dick. I don\u2019t know as I\u2019d care to go that far.\nI gather from what you\u2019ve just said that you mean they\u2019ve been\ncommissioned by Frazer to put us out of the way.\u201d\nDick smiled. \u201cNo, I didn\u2019t quite mean that, Sandy. I don\u2019t think we\u2019ll\nbe murdered. Not that. As long as we stay on this island, or remain here\nin this vicinity, we\u2019ll be safe enough. We might stay here all summer,\nand we\u2019d never see them again, never be bothered, but\u2014\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said Sandy impatiently, \u201cgo on, Dick.\u201d\n\u201cBut,\u201d continued Dick, \u201clet us leave this island or this vicinity and\nthen trouble aplenty.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean they\u2019ll attempt to stop us if we start back for Half Way\nHouse?\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s exactly what I mean,\u201d said Dick. \u201cThey\u2019ll harass us at\nevery turn. I\u2019m convinced of it. I won\u2019t say they\u2019ll resort to open\nviolence if underhanded methods will avail.\u201d\n\u201cOh come, Dick, surely not.\u201d\n\u201cAs I live, I sincerely believe it. I wouldn\u2019t put these thoughts in\nyour mind, if I didn\u2019t But I can easily prove my point.\u201d\n\u201cHow?\u201d\n\u201cBy starting back.\u201d\n\u201cWhat\u2014you mean right now?\u201d\n\u201cNo better time than now. If my suspicions are correct, we\u2019ll run into\nsome snag within the next day or two.\u201d\n\u201cIs that why you were starting to pack that luggage?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nSandy tongued his cheek and in the bright light of that perfect morning\nhe squinted at his chum. In that brief interval he did some quick\nthinking.\n\u201cWait a minute, Dick,\u201d he finally broke forth. \u201cLet\u2019s not be too hasty.\u201d\n\u201cBut I\u2019m not hasty. No use staying here any longer that I can see. We\u2019ve\nall agreed that it\u2019s out of the question to bother with the dinosaur.\nThere\u2019s absolutely nothing we can do here unless it is to put in a few\nweeks fishing and hunting, and somehow,\u201d Dick stroked back the hair from\nhis forehead, \u201cI\u2019m in no mood for that. Let\u2019s start back and see what\nhappens.\u201d\n\u201cNo, I think I have a better plan. Let\u2019s postpone that return trip until\nwe\u2019ve had a chance to interview Messrs. Brennan and McCallum.\u201d\n\u201cJust what do you propose to do?\u201d\n\u201cWell,\u201d began Sandy, \u201cI doubt if they are aware that we\u2019ve seen them. We\ncan jump into our canoe, slip down along the east side of the lake and\ncome upon them in such a way that they\u2019ll think our meeting is quite\naccidental. We\u2019ll profess great surprise at seeing them. We\u2019ll ask them\npoint-blank what they are doing out here.\u201d\nDick laughed. \u201cYes, and not learn a thing. They\u2019ll have a very plausible\nstory, don\u2019t worry about that. And why go to all that trouble anyway? If\nyou want to talk to them, Sandy, let\u2019s jump in the canoe and overtake\nthem at once.\u201d\n\u201cAll right. Just as you say. I\u2019m ready.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you think about it?\u201d Dick turned upon the young Indian.\nToma deliberated for nearly a minute. His eyes flecked and his gaze\ndropped.\n\u201cNo harm we go see them. Take jus\u2019 a few minutes an\u2019 we find out what\nthey say. Come on.\u201d\nThey dragged their canoe down to the water and Sandy pushed off. The\nlight craft bobbed and swayed for twenty feet through the blue, almost\nunruffled surface near shore, then headed straight out toward the\ngradually disappearing speck retreating in the distance. For fully ten\nminutes no one spoke. The little vessel leaped and darted through the\nblue, sparkling element. In another ten minutes the other canoe had\ngrown appreciably larger. Between strokes, Dick puffed:\n\u201cRemember, Sandy, this is your suggestion. You\u2019re the spokesman.\u201d\n\u201cLeave it to me,\u201d the other retorted. \u201cI know just what I\u2019m going to\nsay.\u201d\n\u201cWhatever you do,\u201d Dick warned him, \u201cdon\u2019t let them guess that we\u2019re\nsuspicious of them.\u201d\n\u201cI won\u2019t,\u201d growled Sandy.\nThus it happened that when they pulled abreast of the smaller craft, it\nwas Sandy who hailed them. The two men raised their paddles and\npermitted their canoe to be overhauled. There ensued an exchange of\ngreetings.\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you stop?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cStop?\u201d Wolf Brendan rubbed his unshaven chin and stared questioningly.\n\u201cStop where?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, at the island, of course.\u201d\nBrennan continued to stare blankly, almost foolishly. He was a good\nactor.\n\u201cThere\u2019s a hull lot of islands in this here lake. What island do you\nmean?\u201d\n\u201cThe dinosaur\u2019s island, of course. You saw us, didn\u2019t you?\u201d\n\u201cNope, we didn\u2019t see yuh. Knew yuh was up here, o\u2019 course, getting them\nbones of that thar dinosaur, but we didn\u2019t know just where\u2014which island,\nI mean.\u201d\n\u201cYou weren\u2019t very far behind us on the trail.\u201d\n\u201cNope, \u2019bout a day I guess. Seen your campfire along the trail. One was\nstill smoking when we got to it.\u201d\n\u201cWe sort o\u2019 half suspected we\u2019d run across yuh somewheres,\u201d McCallum\ninterjected. \u201cSo this yere is the lake of the dinosaur? \u2019Magine yuh\nfellows will be pretty busy durin\u2019 the next few weeks gettin\u2019 them bones\nchipped out o\u2019 the rock ready for shippin\u2019.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d Sandy informed them, \u201cwe\u2019re not going to bother with it. The\nthing\u2019s too big for us to handle.\u201d\n\u201cYuh can build a big raft,\u201d McCallum suggested.\n\u201cWhat about the portages?\u201d There was a faint note of anger in Sandy\u2019s\nvoice.\n\u201cYuh\u2019ll have to pack it, o\u2019 course,\u201d McCallum said. \u201cBut it\u2019s almost as\neasy to build a big raft as a small one.\u201d\n\u201cThe dinosaur\u2019s skeleton is too big and too heavy to pack,\u201d declared\nSandy haughtily.\n\u201cYuh don\u2019t say.\u201d\n\u201cIt certainly is.\u201d\n\u201cWhat yuh gonna do then?\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ve given it up,\u201d Sandy spoke harshly. \u201cWe\u2019re starting back to Half\nWay House this afternoon.\u201d\nWolf Brennan spat in the water and glanced inquiringly at the three\noccupants in the other canoe.\n\u201cIf yuh fellows was right smart now, yuh wouldn\u2019t give up so easily.\nThere\u2019s a lot o\u2019 money to be made if yuh can manage to get that big\nlizard back where it can be took to one o\u2019 the company\u2019s steamers. If I\nwas making a contract now,\u201d Wolf Brennan spat in the water again, \u201cI\u2019m\nthinkin\u2019 I\u2019d move Heaven an\u2019 earth afore I\u2019d give up.\u201d\nSandy glanced back at him.\n\u201cI\u2019m not saying we\u2019ll never get the dinosaur out. But if we do, it won\u2019t\nbe this summer and it won\u2019t be on a raft one is required to pole up a\nriver that has thirteen portages.\u201d\n\u201cHow else could yuh get it out?\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know. We haven\u2019t thought about that\u2014yet. Perhaps this winter we\nmay come to some definite conclusion.\u201d\n\u201cSo yuh\u2019re goin\u2019 back to Half Way House?\u201d\n\u201cYou bet we are.\u201d\n\u201cToo bad.\u201d\n\u201cAnd where are you going?\u201d Sandy inquired innocently.\nWolf Brennan glanced at McCallum for a brief interval and between them\npassed a significant and knowing look.\n\u201cSort o\u2019 figured we\u2019d go prospectin\u2019 for a time.\u201d\n\u201cWhere?\u201d\nBrennan seemed to be hazy on this point. He coughed embarrassedly and\nlooked again at his partner.\n\u201c\u2019Tother side o\u2019 the lake there\u2019s some hills an\u2019 we kind o\u2019 thought we\u2019d\nput in a week or two jus\u2019 sort o\u2019 looking\u2019 around.\u201d\n\u201cWhat side of the lake?\u201d persisted Sandy.\n\u201cOn the north side,\u201d Brennan answered. \u201cIf yuh\u2019re startin\u2019 back for the\npost this afternoon, we may see yuh again.\u201d\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t wonder. Because we are starting for the post this\nafternoon.\u201d\nBrennan blinked and again he looked at McCallum. Evidently this was\nMcCallum\u2019s cue for he spoke up.\n\u201cMebbe if yuh\u2019d stick around for a while,\u201d he suggested, \u201cthe four of us\ncould figure out some way to get out that dinosaur.\u201d\n\u201cFive of us,\u201d corrected Dick, speaking for the first time. \u201cYou\u2019ve\noverlooked Toma.\u201d\n\u201cBreeds don\u2019t count.\u201d\n\u201cThis one here,\u201d stated Dick furiously, stooping over and patting Toma\non the shoulder, \u201cis as good as any dirty, bewhiskered white man that\never came over the trail from Half Way House. You can take that\nstatement in any way you see fit, McCallum.\u201d\n\u201cRegular spit-fire, ain\u2019t yuh?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not accustomed to have my friends insulted.\u201d\nMcCallum removed his hat and bowed gravely.\n\u201cI shore beg your pardon. I didn\u2019t mean no offense. Along toward\nevening, me an\u2019 Wolf will drop over to your little island and pay yuh\nour respects.\u201d\n\u201cSuit yourself,\u201d said Sandy, \u201cbut we won\u2019t be there. As I\u2019ve already\ntold you, we\u2019re starting back to Half Way House this afternoon.\u201d\nWhat Sandy read in McCallum\u2019s eyes was a challenge, but it was Wolf\nBrennan who spoke.\n\u201cMebbe,\u201d he said.\nThe first night on their return trip to Half Way House the boys camped\ntwenty miles south of the lake. Here they received their first set-back.\nIn the morning they awoke to find their canoe was gone. Rage in their\nhearts, they gathered in a little group and stared at the place where it\nhad been. They guessed immediately what had happened. After the first\nshock, Dick scowled and looked at his two chums.\n\u201cWell, we know where we stand now,\u201d he declared grimly.\n\u201cThree against two,\u201d blurted Sandy. \u201cThey can\u2019t stop us.\u201d\nDick mopped his moist forehead and dug the tip of one moccasin into the\nloose sand.\n\u201cThat may be true. We have the advantage in numbers. But I\u2019d also like\nto point out to you that even though that is so the odds are in their\nfavor, nevertheless. We never know when to look for them. They\u2019ll strike\nwhen we least expect it and always from under cover. They\u2019ve already won\nthe first round. Poling up the river in a raft is a tedious and\ndisheartening undertaking. It will take us three times as long to reach\nour destination. I don\u2019t know as I\u2019m in favor of going on in that way.\u201d\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d\n\u201cToo much danger.\u201d\n\u201cNot any more danger than there was in the canoe,\u201d objected Sandy.\n\u201cProbably not. But until this moment we haven\u2019t been sure in our own\nminds that Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum have taken the offensive. Now\nwe know. There\u2019s absolutely no question about it. They\u2019ve struck once\nand they\u2019ll strike again too. The next time it may be a stray shot that\nwill get one of us.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you mean by a stray shot?\u201d demanded Sandy.\n\u201cIf one of us gets killed it might as well be a stray shot, mightn\u2019t it?\nI mean, it will be a difficult thing to prove that we were deliberately\nfired on and that those two miscreants did the firing.\u201d\n\u201cYou propose then to walk back?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I think it will be safer.\u201d\n\u201cBut they can shoot us just as well while we are going through the woods\nas they can if we were aboard a raft.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t agree with you there. There\u2019s no better mark that I can think\nof then three standing figures on a raft, no obstructions of any kind to\ncheck the progress of a bullet, the best sort of cover along the shore\nin which they can hide.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t mind walking,\u201d said Sandy. \u201cBut what about our luggage\nhere? We can\u2019t carry all of that. I\u2019m mighty glad now we left those\ntools back there at the island of the dinosaur.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d suggest that we make a cache, right here, of what we can not carry.\nIf we are to travel swiftly, we ought not to pack more than fifty pounds\neach. Isn\u2019t that right, Toma?\u201d\nThe Indian nodded. \u201cNot more than fifty pounds. That way we travel\nquick. Think much better like you say not to pole up river in raft. Next\ntime Wolf Brennan him not be so easy on us.\u201d\nSandy suddenly clapped his hands. His face brightened and he laughed\ngleefully.\n\u201cCracky! I\u2019ve just had an inspiration. We\u2019ll beat them at their own\ngame. We won\u2019t set our course along the river. We\u2019ll go a more\nroundabout way and put them off our trail entirely.\u201d\n\u201cBut how?\u201d questioned Dick, greatly interested.\n\u201cI just happened to remember,\u201d explained Sandy, \u201cthat sixty miles\nsouthwest of here is the Clear Spring River. It\u2019s a large stream, fairly\nnavigable. On this river, near what is called the Great Heart Portage,\nis an old trading post, now deserted, once the headquarters for an\nindependent fur company. If I remember correctly, Uncle Walter said that\nthis independent company has been out of business for something like\neight years. But their stores and warehouses are still there. These have\nbeen made over into dwelling houses and are occupied by half-breeds and\nIndians during the winter months. If we proceed in a straight line\ntoward this old trading post, we ought to reach it in two days. When we\narrive there, the chances are, we may find Indians in the vicinity and\nmay be able to purchase another canoe. If we do, we\u2019ll proceed up the\nClear Spring River to Halstead\u2019s Island, which will bring us about\nfifteen miles west of Half Way House.\u201d Sandy paused and regarded Dick\nand Toma questioningly. \u201cWhat do you think of that for a plan?\u201d\n\u201cGood,\u201d declared Toma.\n\u201cI like it very much,\u201d smiled Dick. \u201cIt ought to throw Brennan and\nMcCallum completely off our trail. They\u2019ll be waiting for us somewhere a\nshort distance up the river and, when we fail to put in an appearance\neither by raft or on foot, they won\u2019t know what has become of us. I\ndoubt if they\u2019ll ever tumble to the fact that we\u2019ve gone over to the\nClear Spring River. When they do come back here to investigate and\nstumble upon our trail, we\u2019ll be so far away they won\u2019t be able to\novertake us.\u201d\nWhile Dick had been talking, Toma paced restlessly back and forth near\nthe campfire. For some unexplainable reason, he felt uneasy. For several\nminutes now, he had been watching closely a thicket of elders as a cat\nmight watch a mouse. On two different occasions the leaves and branches\nof the elders had stirred gently. A light breeze flowed down along the\nriver valley, yet it was so vagrant and listless that it scarcely could\nbe felt fanning one\u2019s cheek. Yet he had distinctly seen the elders\nmoving. His quick eye had noted this and his first thought had been that\npossibly a squirrel was playing there. Catching up his rifle, he strode\nstraight over to the clustered thicket and parted the branches. As he\npeered within, for one fleeting moment he was under the impression that\nhe had caught sight of something brown. Then he heard a stealthy\nmovement, followed, by the unmistakable crackling of dry branches.\nPushing his way within the thicket, he paused to listen. He could hear\nno further sound. Yet something told him that that fleeting glimpse of\nsomething brown had not been of an animal but of a man\u2014Wolf Brennan or\nMcCallum!\nHe took a few steps forward, critically examining the ground. A barely\naudible sound escaped his lips. He stooped quickly over the faint\nimprint of a moccasined foot. Satisfied, his suspicions confirmed, he\ndashed on through the thicket, emerging at its farther side, just as two\nfigures topped a low hill not thirty feet ahead. Toma raised his rifle\nto his shoulder in a lightning motion, then came a blinding explosion\nand the two men ducked their heads as a bullet whistled between them.\nThe skulkers did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. They\ndashed down the hill toward the thicker growth just below. Just as they\nentered this welcome barrier, a second bullet clipped the leaves above\ntheir heads.\nIn the wild scramble that followed, Wolf Brennan lost his hat. Cursing,\nhe started back for it when still another lead pellet whizzed past, so\nclose to his face that he thought better of it, turned and plunged on\nafter his companion.\nSoon afterward, Toma strode back into camp as calmly as if nothing\nhappened. His expression was reserved and dignified. Except for a faint\nsparkle in his eyes, one could never have guessed that only a short time\nbefore he had been so busy.\n\u201cWhat were you shooting at?\u201d Dick and Sandy demanded.\nThe young Indian smiled faintly.\n\u201cA wolf,\u201d he answered.\n\u201cWhere did you see it? Pshaw, you\u2019re joking,\u201d accused Sandy. \u201cA wolf!\nOne seldom sees a wolf during the summer.\u201d\n\u201cI see \u2019em wolf,\u201d declared Toma, \u201can\u2019 I shoot at him one, two, three\ntimes.\u201d\n\u201cYes, we heard you,\u201d said Dick. \u201cHit him?\u201d\n\u201cI not try very hard. I have lots fun scare that wolf. Wolf no good to\neat unless one pretty near starve. Why for I kill him?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d kill a wolf any time I had a chance,\u201d declared Dick. \u201cI hate them.\u201d\nSandy started to say something, then suddenly paused. Of a sudden his\neyes had grown very round and he stared at Toma as if fascinated. He was\nlooking straight at the young Indian\u2019s hip pocket. From it a bulky\nobject protruded. The object was brown and it was a little difficult to\ntell just what it was, nevertheless, Sandy had his suspicions. He strode\nforward quickly and yanked it from his chum\u2019s pocket. He smoothed it and\nheld it out for better inspection.\n\u201cWhere did you get it?\u201d he demanded.\nAt the sharp question, Dick turned and he, too, stood goggling.\n\u201cI no tell you a lie,\u201d Toma explained. \u201cThat fellow him wolf all\nright\u2014Wolf Brennan.\u201d\nDick turned pale. \u201cDid you kill him?\u201d he cried in horror. \u201cTell the\ntruth, Toma, you didn\u2019t hit him, surely? You wouldn\u2019t do that.\u201d\n\u201cI just tell you I like make \u2019em run. Wolf Brennan, Toby McCallum do\nvery fast run back there in the trees,\u201d Toma pointed away in the\ndirection he had just come. \u201cMebbe next time them fellows think twice\nbefore they try spy on our camp.\u201d\nFor a brief interval, Dick and Sandy grinned over the mental picture of\nthose two racing figures, but their mirth was short-lived. The same\nthought came to each at the same time.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet they heard what we were talking about,\u201d gasped Sandy.\n\u201cSure they did,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cIn that case, no use going to Clear Spring River. Might as well go on\nthe way we planned in the first place\u201d\u2014dolefully.\n\u201cMight as well.\u201d\nToma, who had been gazing up and down along the shore, suddenly broke\nforth:\n\u201cWhat you think them fellows do with our canoe?\u201d\n\u201cSet it adrift, of course,\u201d grunted Sandy. \u201cIt\u2019s probably miles away by\nthis time. Might even have reached the Lake of Many Islands.\u201d\nToma rubbed his forehead with a grimy hand.\n\u201cMebbe not. Mebbe current take it close in to shore an\u2019 that canoe not\nvery far away this minute.\u201d\n\u201cPossible, I\u2019ll admit,\u201d agreed Dick, \u201cbut not very probable. More likely\nthey took it out here in mid-stream and sunk it.\u201d\n\u201cIf you fellow stay here,\u201d suggested Toma, \u201cI very willing to walk back\nto see if mebbe I find it.\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Dick, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t want you to do that. I mean it isn\u2019t fair\nthat you should take all the risks and do all the work, Toma. Let\u2019s toss\na coin to see who goes.\u201d\nIt was agreed. They tossed the coin and Dick lost. A few minutes later,\ncarrying his rifle and a few emergency rations, he waved good-bye to his\ntwo chums and started out.\nDick had no definite plan in mind other than to proceed down the river\nin search of their missing canoe. As Toma had suggested, there was a\npossible chance that the unscrupulous Wolf Brennan and his partner had\nset the craft adrift, believing that it would be carried by the current\ninto the Lake of Many Islands\u2014out of sight and out of reach of their\nthree young opponents. If this was the plan that Wolf had actually put\ninto effect, there was still a frail chance for its recovery. It might\nhave floated out of the main current and subsequently been washed\nashore. If Dick were lucky, he might come upon it. It was a somewhat\nhopeless quest yet, under the circumstances, it might be well worth the\neffort.\n\u201cI won\u2019t waste more than a few hours,\u201d Dick decided, as he picked his\nway along the rock-strewn shore. \u201cIf I don\u2019t find it within five miles\nfrom camp, I\u2019ll give up.\u201d\nAt the end of an hour, his patience was rewarded. Turning a bend in the\nstream, his heart gave a quick leap. Two hundred yards ahead was what\nlooked to be very much like the thing he sought. It was a canoe\u2014that\nmuch he knew. It was close to shore, drifting idly, round and round a\ncircular pool on his own side of the river. He emitted a fervid sigh of\nsatisfaction and relief and bounded forward. Fifty feet from his\nobjective he stopped short, his breath catching.\nIt was not their canoe at all. It was the one in which only the day\nbefore, he had seen Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum pass by the island of\nthe dinosaur. The realization had come so unexpectedly that, for a time,\nDick was almost too dazed and bewildered to collect his scattered wits.\nSo Brennan and his partner had lost their canoe, too? How had that\nhappened? Had they left it partly in the water and partly on shore, and\nhad the current succeeded in tugging it away? It seemed probable. The\nriver played no favorites.\nAnd then Dick saw something that caused his pulses to leap with\nexcitement. In the white sand, twenty feet from where the craft was\nbobbing idly, were the marks made by the canoe when it had been beached,\nand around these marks were the unmistakable imprints of moccasined\nfeet.\nDick could not suppress a grin of appreciation. Well-trained canoe that!\nA very obliging current! Caught in a net-work of in-shore eddies, moving\nround and round in a circle, the canoe was nearly as safe as if it had\nbeen dragged clear of the water and deposited in the white sand along\nthe beach.\nCoincident with this discovery, there came the realization that he was\ntreading on dangerous ground. Having left their canoe here, very\nnaturally the partners would return. Perhaps they already had. For all\nDick knew to the contrary, right at this moment from behind some leafy\nambuscade they might be watching his approach. The thought frightened\nhim. He paused dead in his tracks, undecided what to do. After the\nreception Wolf had received back there at the boys\u2019 camp, it was only\nreasonable to suppose that neither of the partners would hesitate about\nusing their own weapons. On the other hand, if they were still lingering\nin the vicinity of the other camp or had paused to rest somewhere, he\nwould be missing a golden opportunity if caution or the fear of a bullet\nkept him from making a closer approach.\nCome to think of it, he was in as much danger here, a mere fifty yards\nfrom his goal, as he would be if he were actually at the side of the\ncanoe. Already he was within rifle range. But they hadn\u2019t fired. Were\nthey waiting for him to come just a wee mite closer, or was it really\ntrue that they hadn\u2019t yet arrived upon the scene?\nFor a full minute Dick stood there, unable to decide. His heart pounded\nlike a trip-hammer. Three times he took a step forward and thrice he\nstopped short, in panic at the thought of what might happen to him if he\ncould command the courage to go on.\nAnd then, almost beside himself from the inactivity and suspense, he\ngathered together the fluttering, loose ends of a waning decision,\ngritted his teeth, and darted forward. Bounding along at top speed, in a\nfew seconds he came abreast of the canoe, checked himself, then splashed\nout waist-deep into the water and clambered aboard.\nHe dropped his rifle, frantically seized one of the paddles and was half\nway out into the river before he was sufficiently recovered from his\nfright to realize that he had actually made good his escape. Yet he\ncontinued to paddle furiously. Never before had he bucked a current with\nsuch fierce and desperate ardor. He swept round the bend in the river,\nperspiration pouring from every pore, working with a dogged, automatic,\nmachine-like regularity. Seemingly he could not, dare not ease up for\neven as much as a split-second.\nOn and on he raced. A thin, white line of foam trailed off in his wake.\nNow and again in his eager haste, his paddle scooped the water in the\nair behind him, where the freshening breeze caught it and whirled it\naway.\nHe was limp as a rag and utterly spent when he reached camp. Toma and\nSandy, who stood watching him as he glided up to shore, blinked in\namazement.\nHe had not the breath to answer their eager questions. He lay back in\nthe stern, puffing, gasping, while the blood throbbed in his head with\nsuch insistence that for a time he actually believed that his temples\nwould burst. His vision was somewhat obscured, too. Through a sort of\nhaze he could perceive Sandy dancing wildly like a jungle savage.\n\u201cDick, you lucky beggar!\u201d shrieked the suddenly daft and madly plunging\nyoung maniac. \u201cWhat\u2019s the meaning of this? O boy! Cracky! If you haven\u2019t\nturned the tables after all. What a come-back! I\u2019ll bet if either one of\n\u2019em had gold teeth you\u2019d have stolen them, too. Where\u2019d you get it?\u201d\nNot yet able to speak intelligently, Dick pointed down the river.\n\u201cYou did, eh?\u201d\nDick nodded.\n\u201cFight \u2019em?\u201d Sandy persisted.\nDick shook his head.\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s too bad. I was hoping that you had left them back there to\nnurse a couple of broken heads. Serve \u2019em right after what they did to\nour canoe.\u201d\nDick sat up, his breathing now less violent.\n\u201cJu\u2014just what do you mean, Sandy? Have you found it?\u201d\n\u201cYou bet we have. Toma and I found it in your absence. It\u2019s not down the\nriver at all. It\u2019s over there in the brush, just where they carried it\nafter smashing it up with rocks. We must have slept like logs not to\nhave heard them.\u201d\nDick thrust his two arms into the water over the side of the canoe and\ncommenced to bathe his hot, sweat-streaked face.\n\u201cWell, it doesn\u2019t matter now. We have this.\u201d\n\u201cYes, thanks to you. What do you say we leave this accursed place before\nsomething else happens? Toma and I can bring over the luggage while you\nsit there and rest a bit. You need it. When we saw you first, I\u2019m only\nexaggerating a little when I say you were travelling at the rate of\ntwenty knots an hour.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll admit I was frightened.\u201d\n\u201cYou must have been. Next time we want to get a little speed in a pinch,\nI\u2019m going to frighten you myself.\u201d\n\u201cCut out the talking, Sandy, and let\u2019s start. I\u2019m afraid to linger here\nmuch longer. Don\u2019t forget that we\u2019ve stirred up a hornets\u2019 nest by\ntaking a flying shot at Messrs. Brennan and McCallum, and now have added\ninsult to injury by appropriating their canoe.\u201d\n\u201cServes \u2019em right.\u201d\n\u201cPlease\u2014\u2014\u201d\nDick did not finish the sentence. A warning shout from Toma was followed\ninstantly by a sinister crack of a rifle and the whine of a bullet. The\nyoung Indian came running, carrying part of the luggage. Dazed by the\nsuddenness of the attack, they could not determine at first from whence\nthe murderous leaden messenger had come. A second puff of smoke revealed\nthe place the two outlaws were hiding. Sitting in the canoe, Dick\nreturned their fire, while Sandy, strangely calm for him, sprang up the\nbank to fetch what remained of their provisions.\nWhen they were ready to embark, the firing had ceased. But it was only a\nlull before the storm. Changing their position, this time creeping down\ncloser to the shore, Wolf Brennan and his companion blazed away at the\nspeeding, bobbing mark out there in the water. In order to save\nthemselves, the three boys dropped their paddles and sprawled at full\nlength in the bottom of the canoe.\n\u201cWhatever you do\u2014keep down!\u201d panted Dick.\nCrack! Crack! Crack! Wood splintered around them. Running wild in the\ncurrent now, their craft started down stream. Suddenly, water commenced\npouring in through one side. They were sinking\u2014and drifting as they\nsank. Calm though he was, Dick had a feeling that they were\nirretrievably lost. The water was like ice, chilling one to the marrow.\nThe opposite shore was still a long distance away.\n\u201cBe ready!\u201d Dick called sharply. \u201cSwim! Keep under as much as possible!\u201d\nLike a man dying, the canoe gurgled and went down. A bullet spat in the\nwater where it had been. A yell of triumph sounded from the shore.\n\u201cDive!\u201d shivered Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll make it!\u201d\nDrenched and exhausted, they waded ashore. They wrung the water out of\ntheir dripping garments, eyeing each other soberly. His mouth grim, Toma\nturned and waved defiance at their two enemies, who stood watching them\nfrom the opposite side.\nDick was too overcome, too utterly sick at heart even for speech. His\nmind dwelt upon their awful plight. No catastrophe, except death itself,\ncould have been more terrible. Canoe, supplies, guns\u2014everything they\npossessed\u2014had gone to the bottom of the river. In one stroke, fate had\ndelivered a fearful blow. They were face to face with starvation, that\ngrimmest of all spectres of the wild. They were two hundred miles from\nthe nearest trading post\u2014and food. The country through which they must\npass was unsettled, except for roving bands of Indians, and here and\nthere, probably, a white hunter or prospector. Without rifles, it would\nbe very difficult to obtain game. They had not even matches with which\nto light a fire.\nStanding there, shivering and despondent, Sandy addressed his chums:\n\u201cWe\u2019re alive, and that\u2019s about all. An hour ago the odds were in our\nfavor. Not now. The tables have been turned. The advantage is theirs. At\nleast, they have rifles and matches.\u201d\nDespondently, they turned out their pockets. Each of the boys had a\nhunting knife. Dick had three fish hooks and a line. Sandy produced a\nwatch, compass, and an emergency kit containing bandages and medicine.\nToma pulled out an odd assortment of articles, including three wire\nnails, a mouth-organ, a bottle of perfume, a mirror, and a package of\ndried dates. That was all, not counting a small amount of money which\neach one carried.\n\u201cThe prospect doesn\u2019t look very bright,\u201d sighed Dick. \u201cFish will have to\nkeep us alive until we get back to the post. Toma,\u201d he turned eagerly\nupon the young Indian, \u201cdo you know how to start a fire without\nmatches?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d Toma nodded.\n\u201cWell, that will help some. We haven\u2019t any salt to eat with our fish,\nbut in this sort of emergency I guess we can\u2019t complain. One thing that\npleases me, that makes all this endurable, is that Wolf Brennan and Toby\nMcCallum are not apt to bother us any more. We\u2019re on opposite sides of\nthe river, and by the time they can build a raft, we\u2019ll be a good many\nmiles ahead of them. If you fellows are willing, I\u2019d just as soon walk\nall night.\u201d\n\u201cBut we can\u2019t walk without food,\u201d Sandy reminded him. \u201cWe must stop,\ncatch a few fish, and make a fire. In time the sun will dry out our\nclothing, so we don\u2019t need to worry about that.\u201d\nToma led the way as they pushed on. It was late when they stopped. Dick\nimmediately repaired to the river, where he caught four trout. In the\nmeantime, Sandy watched Toma making a fire. It was a slow process. The\nyoung Indian walked up through the woods, and from the stem of a number\nof weeds he gathered a handful of pith. Next he procured dry moss, and,\nfrom the shore of the river, a hard rock about the size of a man\u2019s hand.\nProceeding with these materials to a place sheltered from the wind and\nhandy to fuel, he squatted down, holding the rock in one hand and his\nknife in the other. With the ball of pith on the ground in front of him,\nworking with incredible speed, he struck knife and rock together,\nsending a shower of red sparks upon the inflammable substance below.\nPresently, it began to smoulder. Lying prone, he blew upon it gently.\nDelicate, fine pencils of smoke arose, then a tiny flame, no larger than\nthat made by a match, flamed up from the pith. With a quick motion,\nstill continuing to blow, Toma sprinkled over his embryo fire a quantity\nof dry moss. The little flame rose higher. He added a few tiny twigs and\nthe outer husks of the weeds, from which he had taken the pith. Within\nfive minutes their campfire was blazing brightly, and when Dick returned\nwith the trout, he stood there staring in wonderment.\n\u201cDid you do that, Toma?\u201d\n\u201cYes, I do \u2019em.\u201d\n\u201cWhat with?\u201d Dick inquired curiously.\n\u201cThe steel of his hunting knife and an ordinary rock,\u201d explained Sandy.\n\u201cStruck them together and made sparks. The sparks ignited a little ball\nof fluff he gathered from some weeds in the woods.\u201d\n\u201cThat not ordinary rock,\u201d Toma pointed out. \u201cThat what Indian call\nfire-rock. Make spark easy. Not always you find rock like that. If I use\ndifferent kind of rock, it take much longer.\u201d\nWhen they had eaten their supper, consisting of the four trout, baked\nover the fire, they all felt much more cheerful. Dick and Sandy spent an\ninteresting half-hour receiving instructions in the art of fire making.\nBoth soon discovered that it was not as easy as it looked. Each made\nseveral futile attempts before he finally succeeded. When they left\ncamp, setting out upon their lonely night\u2019s journey, much to the young\nIndian\u2019s amusement, Dick took the fire-rock with him.\n\u201cWe find plenty more rock like that along the river,\u201d Toma told him.\n\u201cWhy you carry that extra load?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s not heavy,\u201d Dick grinned. \u201cBesides it fits nicely into my left\nhip-pocket. I don\u2019t intend to take any chances about finding another\nrock as good as this. I know I can make a fire with this one and I might\nnot be so fortunate with some other kind.\u201d\nToma laughed again as they made their way through the enveloping spring\ntwilight. The air was exhilarating and the quiet earth was touched with\na solemn beauty. Not a breath of air stirred through the fir and balsam\nalong the slope. A fragrant earth smell uprose from the rich soil. They\npassed shrubs that flamed with white and crimson flowers. Dick became so\nimpressed with the loveliness of it all that for a time he quite forgot\nabout their dilemma. Later, when he did remember it, it didn\u2019t seem so\nterrible after all.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll fool them yet,\u201d he announced cheerily. \u201cIf we can manage to get\nfood as we go along, there\u2019s no reason why we can\u2019t arrive at Half Way\nHouse in time to upset Frazer\u2019s plans.\u201d\n\u201cWe must do it,\u201d replied Sandy soberly.\n\u201cIt won\u2019t be easy,\u201d warned Dick.\n\u201cI know that. It makes me all the more anxious to succeed. I\u2019m not very\napt to forget this experience for a long time. If the factor really is\nup to some underhanded work\u2014and the actions of Brennan and McCallum have\nindicated that pretty plainly\u2014I, for one, intend to get to the bottom of\nit.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s the spirit,\u201d applauded Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll show him. We\u2019ll go till we\ndrop. If anything happens to one of us, the other two must carry on.\u201d\nThey paused at that and shook hands all around. Then they went on more\ngrimly and doggedly. All night they tramped. When the early morning sun\nblazed a new trail across the blue field of the sky, they made a second\ncamp, started another fire with flint and steel and devoured hungrily,\nalmost ravenously, the six trout which Dick had the good fortune to\ncatch in a deep, quiet pool near the shore of the river.\nIn catching the trout, Dick had used clams for bait. Watching him, the\noperation had given Sandy an idea. He set out along the shore, returning\nat the end of an hour with thirty large clams, which he placed in a hole\nhe had scooped out in the sand.\n\u201cWhen we\u2019ve had a few hours sleep,\u201d he told Dick and Toma proudly, \u201cI\u2019ll\nroast these fellows in the hot ashes and we\u2019ll have a change of diet.\u201d\n\u201cNot a bad idea,\u201d Dick rejoined. \u201cI\u2019m almost hungry enough to eat them\nright now.\u201d\nThey slept longer than they had intended. It was late afternoon when\nthey awoke. The warm sun, beating down upon their tired bodies, had kept\nthem as warm and comfortable as if they had been wrapped in blankets. So\nrefreshed were they when they had clambered up from their couches of\nwhite sand that Toma was moved to remark:\n\u201cNot bad idea to sleep daytime an\u2019 travel night. At night fellow sleep\nby campfire with no blankets get cold. No rest good.\u201d\n\u201cTrue,\u201d agreed Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll do most of our travelling at night. Wish I\nknew what time it was. Too bad the water spoiled Sandy\u2019s watch. By the\nlook of that sun, I\u2019d say it was about three o\u2019clock in the afternoon.\u201d\nToma squinted up at it and shook his head.\n\u201cFive o\u2019clock,\u201d he corrected. \u201cSoon as we get something to eat, better\ntramp some more. Dick, you give \u2019em me fishhook and line an\u2019 mebbe by\ntime you an\u2019 Sandy get fire ready an\u2019 bake clams, I catch some more\nfish.\u201d\nToma had better luck even than Dick. A few minutes before the clams were\nbaked, he appeared upon the scene with eight speckled beauties, none of\nwhich weighed less than two pounds. They cleaned and baked them all,\nwrapped up five in Dick\u2019s moose-hide coat, made a pack of it, and\nstarted out upon their journey.\nThey went jubilantly. It was many hours before the sun swung down toward\nthe northwestern horizon. Just as the twilight waned and the half-night\nof the Arctic dropped its mantle over the earth, Toma, who was twenty\nyards in the lead, suddenly stopped short and threw up his hands,\nshouting for his two companions to hurry. When they reached his side, he\npointed down at the loose sand at his feet.\n\u201cGo\u2014ood Heavens!\u201d stammered Dick.\nIn the sand, plainly distinguishable, were the imprints of naked human\nfeet.\nWho made those naked footprints in the sand? For hours afterward the\nboys puzzled over it, but could come to no satisfactory conclusion.\nIndians, as they well knew, seldom went barefoot. If, on the other hand,\nthe tracks had been made by a white man, who was he and from whence had\nhe come? Though they searched long and diligently for the remains of a\ncampfire or other evidences of the stranger\u2019s presence, none was to be\nfound. The tracks could be followed for a distance of nearly a quarter\nof a mile along the shore, after which they turned away from the river\nand became lost in the thick moss that carpeted the woods.\nNor could they pick up the tracks again. Toma, whom nature and training\nhad specially fitted for this kind of work, was forced to admit,\nfinally, that even he was baffled. Given a little more time, he believed\nthat he could find other imprints, but inasmuch as Sandy and Dick chafed\nat the delay already caused by the mysterious, barefoot stranger, he\ndecided to concur with popular sentiment and try to think no more about\nit.\nBut it was not thus to be dismissed so lightly. The passing of time\nseemed only to add fresh interest to the puzzle. During the next two\ndays it was the popular topic of discussion. New theories were advanced\nby one or other of the boys, argued over sometimes for hours, then\nrelegated to the limbo of dead and forgotten things.\nOn the morning of the third day, however, while travelling over a rough\nsection of country near the winding, interminable river, Dick was\nreminded again of the tracks. His own toes had worn through his\nmoccasins. There was a hole about the size of a silver dollar in each\none of his heels. In another day or so, he, too, would be walking\nbarefoot, much as he dreaded to think of it, making those peculiar and\ntragic marks in the sand.\nHe glanced over at Sandy\u2019s moccasins and noted with a sinking of the\nheart that his were even in worse condition than his own. Toma\u2019s were in\nbetter shape, but also very badly worn. Soon they must all endure the\ntorture of going unshod, or else cut up their moosehide coats and make\nnew footgear.\nNone of the three wanted to part with his coat. The nights were often\nchilly and it would be a positive hardship to do without them.\n\u201cI\u2019d almost as soon go barefoot,\u201d declared Sandy.\n\u201cYes, I know,\u201d Dick\u2019s face clouded, \u201cbut do you think we can endure\nthese forced marches if our feet are cut and bruised? Mine are beginning\nto cause me untold suffering now. You, Sandy, are limping. No! Don\u2019t try\nto deny it. I\u2019ve been watching you. A few more bruises, a few more\nscratches and cuts, and we won\u2019t be able to walk five miles a day. You\nmay not have noticed it, but already we have begun to slacken down. I\ndon\u2019t believe we made more than eighteen miles yesterday. We put in the\nhours but we don\u2019t seem to get the results. I\u2019ll admit that it\u2019s tough\ngoing through here, but we won\u2019t find anything better until we reach the\nseventh portage.\u201d\n\u201cI know it,\u201d sighed the other. \u201cYet I hate to part with my coat.\nSay\u2014where in the dickens has Toma gone?\u201d\n\u201cI saw him around here only a few minutes ago,\u201d Dick answered\nabsent-mindedly, still absorbed with the pressing problem of footgear.\n\u201cNo, you didn\u2019t,\u201d his chum flatly contradicted. \u201cHe\u2019s been away a long\ntime now\u2014over an hour, I\u2019m sure. I\u2019m beginning to worry about him.\u201d\n\u201cProbably away somewhere getting fish for breakfast,\u201d Dick decided.\n\u201cHe\u2019s done that already.\u201d\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t lose that restless scamp if you tried, so stop worrying.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t help it,\u201d grumbled Sandy.\nDick suddenly sat up straight, the perplexed lines vanishing from his\nforehead.\n\u201cSay, I\u2019ll bet I know. He\u2019s gone off to snare rabbits. He\u2019s been\ncomplaining a lot lately about our fish diet. I recall now that when we\nwere walking along together early this morning he informed me that at\nour next stop he intended to set out some snares.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t blame him one bit. I\u2019m tired of this fish diet myself. Every time\nI wake up, I examine my body to see if I haven\u2019t started to grow\nscales.\u201d\nDick laughed. \u201cFish are called brain-food, Sandy. Don\u2019t forget that. By\nthe time we reach Half Way House, we\u2019ll all be very learned and wise.\u201d\n\u201cI much prefer to wallow along in ignorance,\u201d Sandy retorted. \u201cI hate\nfish. When we get home I never want to see another. Lately, about all I\ncan think about is flapjacks and coffee and thick slices of white bread\nwith a top covering of butter. Last night, or to be more exact,\nyesterday afternoon while I slept, I dreamed that Uncle Walter had just\nreceived one of those big plum puddings from England and that he made me\na present of the whole of it.\u201d\nSandy paused to moisten his lips.\n\u201cI never had such a vivid dream,\u201d he went on. \u201cAt one sitting I ate the\nwhole of it. It had dates and raisins in it, and currants and nuts, and\nthere was a rich sauce that I kept pouring over it and\u2014yum, yum\u2014\u201d\n\u201cStop! Stop!\u201d Dick shouted, vainly trying to shut out the appetizing\npicture. \u201cYou can tell the rest of that some other time when I\u2019m in a\nbetter condition to appreciate it.\u201d\n\u201cWell, if you won\u2019t listen to me,\u201d Sandy said aggrievedly, \u201cI\u2019m going to\ncurl up here in the sun and go to sleep. Maybe I\u2019ll dream about another\nplum pudding.\u201d\n\u201cThink I\u2019ll roll in too,\u201d said Dick, smiling at the idiom.\n_Sans_ blankets or covering of any kind, even a coat, there was, of\ncourse, nothing to roll into. One simply stretched out in the sunshine,\ncovered one\u2019s face with a handkerchief to keep away the flies and fell\naway into deep slumber. He felt particularly tired today and decided\nthat, as soon as Toma returned, he\u2019d follow Sandy\u2019s example. He lay\nback, his arms pillowed under his head, watching a few widely scattered\nfleecy clouds floating lazily along under the deep blue field of the\nsky.\nHe did not hear the young Indian steal quietly into camp more than two\nhours later, having fallen asleep in spite of himself. But when he did\nrecover consciousness, Toma was the first person his eyes lighted upon.\nThe Indian was standing less than twenty feet away, his back toward him,\nand he was busily absorbed in feeding a freshly-kindled fire. Something\nunusual about the native boy\u2019s appearance immediately attracted Dick\u2019s\nattention. He saw what it was. Toma, apparently, had rolled up his\nmoose-hide trousers and had gone wading for clams. From his ankles to\nhis knees his legs were bare.\n\u201cDid you get any clams, Toma?\u201d Dick inquired sleepily. \u201cHow long have\nyou been back? Why didn\u2019t you wake me, Toma?\u201d\nThe young Indian answered none of Dick\u2019s questions. However, he smiled\nsomewhat sheepishly as he turned around and faced his chum. Then Dick\ngave utterance to a prolonged exclamation of genuine astonishment. His\neyes widened perceptibly. He sat up very quickly, contemplating Toma as\none might contemplate a man from Mars.\n\u201cWhat in blue blazes have you done with the bottom of your pants?\u201d\ngasped Dick.\n\u201cI cut \u2019em off,\u201d answered Toma, flushing.\n\u201cYes, I see you have\u2014but why?\u201d\nBy way of explanation, and not without a touch of the Indian\u2019s native\ndignity, he strode over to a pile of driftwood and fished out of it two\nnew moccasins. Excellent work, Dick could see at a glance; moccasins of\nwhich anyone might have been proud.\n\u201cSew \u2019em all same like squaw,\u201d said Toma.\n\u201cBut you had no needle.\u201d\n\u201cMake \u2019em needle out of stick,\u201d came the prompt reply.\n\u201cBut what about the sinew, Toma? You had no thread. How could you sew\nwithout thread?\u201d\nToma hung his head. He hated to make this admission, but the truth must\ncome out. Toma was always truthful.\n\u201cI use part of fish-line,\u201d he explained.\n\u201cPart of the fish-line?\u201d gurgled Dick.\n\u201cYes, I use \u2019em part of the fish-line.\u201d\n\u201cWell, I must admit that you made _good_ use of it. There is really more\nthan we require anyway. I\u2019m glad for your sake, Toma. Who, beside\nyourself, would ever have thought of a stunt like that? They\u2019ll come in\nmighty handy for you, of course, but won\u2019t you feel cold, Toma? When the\nwinds are chilly I\u2019m afraid you\u2019ll suffer.\u201d\nToma shook his head, bit his lips and stared very hard at some imaginary\nobject across the river. It was plain that he was keenly embarrassed and\nquite at a loss to know what to say. Finally, he found the words that he\nhad been vainly striving for and quickly blurted them out:\n\u201cDick, I no can stand it any longer to see Sandy all time limp. Mebbe\ntwo, three more days Sandy sit down and feet swollen so bad not walk any\nfarther.\u201d\nHe gulped, averted his eyes, then tossed the result of his handiwork\nover at the sleeper\u2019s side. Dick took in the little tableau, feeling\nsuddenly very sick and mean and miserable and selfish. He did not try to\nhide the tears that came into his eyes. Through a sort of mist he saw\nSandy\u2019s blurred form stretched out there on the sand. Then he glanced at\nToma, who looked very ludicrous and silly standing there in his\nabbreviated trousers, the cool night wind blowing over his bare legs.\nAt that instant there popped into his mind the sarcastic utterance of\none Toby McCallum:\n\u201cBreeds don\u2019t count!\u201d\nNeither that day nor the following did the boys succeed in getting a\nsingle trout. It was an unforeseen calamity and they were wholly\nunprepared for it. At first, they could not understand it. They knew\nthat the river teemed with fish. Up to this time, they had had no\ntrouble in catching all they had required. That blazing hot noon when\nSandy returned to camp empty-handed and reported that not one member of\nthe countless schools of trout and white-fish, that literally darkened\nthe stream, would rise to his bait, Dick could not believe his ears.\n\u201cYou couldn\u2019t have tried very hard, Sandy,\u201d he chided him. \u201cHere, give\nme that line. You never were much of a fisherman, that is the trouble\nwith you. You haven\u2019t the patience, Sandy.\u201d\nThe young Scotchman relinquished the line, his eyes stormy.\n\u201cI\u2019ll admit I\u2019m no fisherman,\u201d he blurted, \u201cbut please don\u2019t tell me\nthat I didn\u2019t try, because I did, or that I haven\u2019t the patience because\nI have. I\u2019ve caught nearly as many trout on this trip as you have. But\nthey aren\u2019t biting today at all. I think the river must be bewitched.\u201d\nDick smiled knowingly and confidently, unsheathed his hunting knife and\ncut a long alder pole. Then, winking at Toma, he hurried over to the\nriver, sure in his belief that he\u2019d show Sandy a thing or two about the\ngentle art of fishing.\nHe baited his hook and cast his line. Repeatedly he whipped the swift\nwater, grinning. In a moment he\u2019d feel that sharp tug, experience that\nold familiar thrill. Poor Sandy! At best, he was only a half-hearted\nfisherman, had never learned to love the sport, had never entered into\nit with the enthusiasm and spirit that made for proficiency. The minute\npassed, but he was not discouraged. Back and forth his line flipped over\nthe water. The smile left his face. He scowled, swung in his line,\nwalked fifty or sixty yards upstream and tried again.\nAn hour\u2014two hours\u2014he was very grim now, but he just couldn\u2019t give up.\nThere were fish here. He must get fish. They had no other food except\nclams and it was not possible to get many of them. Good Lord, what would\nhappen if their one heretofore unfailing source of sustenance were cut\noff? Following their long tramp that previous night, they were all weak\nfrom hunger. He was so famished right now that he could even relish\neating a dead crow. Despondently, he sat down on a rock, still whipping\nthe water. A shadow appeared from behind him and he heard a voice:\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, Dick? No catch \u2019em one yet?\u201d\nDick turned his head. He looked up into Toma\u2019s serious face and gulped\ndown a lump in his throat.\n\u201cI don\u2019t understand it. I don\u2019t understand it!\u201d he wailed.\nThe young Indian regarded the river with a sober, thoughtful face.\n\u201cLong time I been \u2019fraid about this,\u201d he sighed. \u201cAll the time I hope\nmebbe I\u2019m wrong. River too swift here to get many fish. No pools along\nhere. Trout keep in central current an\u2019 hurry on to better feeding place\ndown the river.\u201d\n\u201cSo that\u2019s the reason. But, Toma, what are we going to do? We must eat,\nsomehow, and for nearly thirty miles the river is just like this. Is it\nstarvation? Has it come to that?\u201d\n\u201cMebbe not starve, but get mighty hungry.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps we could kill a few birds with stones,\u201d Dick suggested\nhopefully.\n\u201cI know better plan than that. We do like Indians before white men come.\nI make \u2019em bows an\u2019 arrows. Only trouble is we no shoot straight at\nfirst.\u201d\n\u201cBut what about the strings for our bows?\u201d\n\u201cWe use fish-line.\u201d\nDick slid off the rock, his expression more hopeful.\n\u201cAll right, let\u2019s set to work. I\u2019ll help you, Toma. We\u2019ll eat birds for\ndinner, squirrels\u2014anything! Perhaps we might even be lucky enough to get\na rabbit. If we don\u2019t find something to eat pretty soon we\u2019ll\u2014\u2014\u201d\nThe words died in his throat. On that instant back at camp, Sandy let\nout a scream\u2014a ringing, pulsating, vibrant, piercing scream of terror.\nLooking back, they perceived Sandy tearing along toward them, arms and\nlegs swinging, hat gone and the loose sides of his unbuttoned jacket\nbillowing up in the wind.\nWhile Dick stood there, wondering what it was all about, Toma stooped\nswiftly then straightened up, a rock in either hand, his cheeks the\ncolor of yellow parchment. At that moment, Dick caught sight of the\napparition himself. His eyes popped and unconsciously he made a queer,\nchoking noise in his throat. A thing that looked like a beast and yet,\nsomewhat resembled a man, was making its way slowly down the steep bank\ntoward their campfire. The horrible creature\u2019s face was covered with a\nlong black beard and the hair of his head straggled down over his eyes\nand fluffed out in a sinuous black wave around his shoulders.\nIt was a man undoubtedly\u2014but what a man! A skin of some sort had been\nwrapped and tied around his torso, but both his arms and legs were quite\nnaked. In every sense\u2014a wild man. His huge frame supported bulging\nmuscles. His chest expanded like a barrel. He walked with a gliding\nmotion. His head rotated from side to side and, during the breathless\nsilence that followed Sandy\u2019s arrival, they could hear him clucking and\ngrunting to himself.\nThe three boys waited there, rigid with terror. Never before had they\nseen a wild man. His awful appearance, his constant gibbering, his\nbobbing head and fearful eyes reminded Dick of gorillas and huge hairy\napes, whose pictures he had often studied in his natural history book at\nschool. When the hideous creature had turned from a momentary inspection\nof their campfire and commenced gliding toward them, with one accord\nthey shrieked and fled.\nThey had no thought of their sore feet now, neither were they aware of\nthe incessant, gnawing pains of hunger. In a great crisis of this sort,\nthe mind has a peculiar tendency to become wholly subjective to the\nfeelings of instinct. Instinct inherited from a thousand generations of\njungle-prowling ancestors, told them to flee\u2014and they fled.\nSoon they headed away from the shore into the thickets of willow and\njack-pine and began to climb the ascent that led away from the river, up\nand up, until right ahead they could see the somber, interminable green\nof the forest. It was cool here, a welcome coolness after the stiff\nclimb. They were all panting for breath, fearful lest the wild man be\nstill in pursuit of them. None of the boys wanted to meet him, cared\nabout engaging in a hand to hand fight with that gorilla-like monster.\nSo, plunging in the forest, they continued on, leaving the river far\nbehind. At the end of a half hour, they swung south, guided by the sun,\nand continued their difficult journey in the direction of Half Way\nHouse.\nWhen Dick felt perfectly sure that they were no longer being followed,\nhe called a halt and brought up the subject closest to all of them.\n\u201cWhat about something to eat?\u201d he inquired. \u201cThis will never do. We must\neat. Toma, let\u2019s put your plan into execution.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean \u2019em bows and arrows? All right, you get \u2019em fish-line.\u201d\nDick handed it to him. With his hunting knife the young Indian set to\nwork, cutting and fashioning the bows, while Dick and Sandy sharpened\nsome straight sticks for arrows. Under Toma\u2019s instructions, they tufted\none end of each arrow with some tough, fibrous bark the young Indian\nfound for them. In a little less than twenty minutes they were ready.\nWalking at a distance of about one hundred yards apart and, still moving\nsouth, they commenced to hunt.\nDick was not very hopeful. The first bird he saw, a bird that resembled\na king-fisher, he shot at and missed. Five minutes later, his heart\nlanded up in his throat as a rabbit scurried into his path and, for the\nsecond time he bent his bow and again he missed. He missed a squirrel\nthat ran up a tree in front of him. Recovering his arrows each time, he\ntook five shots at the squirrel and in the end lost sight of it. Every\nminute he was becoming more discouraged and more hungry. The arrows\nnever went just where he expected. Usually, he was a foot or two wide of\nhis mark, whether that mark was moving or stationary. After what seemed\nlike an hour, he pressed over more to his right to discover if either of\nthe others had had any better luck. There he found Sandy.\n\u201cHow are you getting on?\u201d he inquired eagerly.\nSandy turned his head. No need to ask him how he had fared. The\ndiscouraged lines in his face told the story. His words confirmed it.\n\u201cDick, I\u2019ve seen two rabbits and three grouse and I failed to get any of\nthem. Think I\u2019m too excited and eager. What did you get?\u201d\n\u201cNothing!\u201d Dick\u2019s eyes were tragic.\nThe young Scotchman averted his face.\n\u201cCripes!\u201d he choked.\nWhen he turned toward Dick again the latter experienced a momentary\nfeeling of utter discouragement and despair. Slow starvation\u2014had it come\nto that? He noticed how gaunt and drawn his chum\u2019s face was.\n\u201cEvery minute that we have to spare, we must practice with these bows\nand arrows, Sandy,\u201d Dick told him. \u201cIt\u2019s our only salvation. In time\nwe\u2019ll grow expert in their use. I had a chance once to take up archery\nand now I wish I had.\u201d\nThey heard a shout near at hand. The bushes parted and Toma plunged\nforward to join them. Toma was carrying something. What was it? Staring,\nSandy suddenly let out a whoop and bounded forward to meet him.\n\u201cA porcupine!\u201d he shouted. \u201cDick, Dick, come here! A porcupine and two\nrabbits! Thank God for that.\u201d\nDick merely stood there, gasping\u2014doubting the evidence of his own\nsenses. A queer feeling swept through him. It was not merely joy at the\nsuccessful outcome of their hunt, but a feeling of relief, of tension\nrelaxed. The future did not look quite so dark now. With food they could\nmake it. Good old Toma! Faithful ever, a wonderful help in time of\nstress or emergency.\nAll the boys contended that they had never tasted anything so good as\nthat porcupine, which they roasted, Indian fashion, over the fire. When\nthey had eaten they were actually happy. For nearly an hour Toma\ninstructed them in the use of their bows and arrows. Then they sat down\nto decide what to do next.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what would be the best plan,\u201d puzzled Dick, \u201ckeep on as\nwe\u2019re doing or retrace our steps to the river. What would you boys\nsuggest?\u201d\n\u201cGo back to the river,\u201d answered Toma unhesitatingly.\n\u201cBut why?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cFollow the river,\u201d explained Toma, \u201can\u2019 then no chance we get lost. Bad\nto get lost now without grub, blankets. Pretty soon all our clothes wear\nout. What we do then?\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s true,\u201d agreed Dick. \u201cThere\u2019s no danger of getting lost if\nwe follow the river. The only thing I was thinking of, will we find as\nmuch game in the river valley as we will up here?\u201d\n\u201cNot much difference,\u201d returned Toma. \u201cHunting pretty much the same\neverywhere. It\u2019s like what you call \u2019em\u2014luck. If we lucky we see many\nthings to shoot. If not see \u2019em, no luck. \u2019Nother thing, by an\u2019 by,\nfishing get good again.\u201d\nSeeing the wisdom in all that Toma had said, they returned to the river\nvalley without discussing the matter further. After partaking of the\nporcupine they had become more optimistic and were determined now to\npush on to their destination more hurriedly. It was agreed that not only\nwould they walk all that night, but part of the next day before they\nmade camp. They had still some of the roasted porcupine and rabbit, so\nit would not be necessary to stop long for lunch.\nAn hour later, breaking through a willow thicket, they perceived the\nslope leading to the river, descended it and continued along the shore.\nOccasionally, while they were marching, Dick and Sandy would test their\nmarksmanship by firing at some object ahead, picking up the arrow again\nwhen they reached it. The interminable twilight of the Arctic made this\npossible and it was not long before each of the boys began to note a\ndecided improvement in his marksmanship.\nThe feet of the three adventurers grew more sore and swollen through the\npassing of the hours. Yet they pushed doggedly on. They had walked so\nmuch that the action had become mechanical. Sometimes they plodded ahead\nwith eyes half-closed, nearly asleep. The twilight faded and the day\nsprang forth. The gray morning mist lifted from the river. A hot sun\nthrew its slanting rays across the strip of white sand along which the\nboys were proceeding.\nSuddenly, Toma who was in the lead, stopped quickly, called sharply to\nhis two chums and pointed ahead.\n\u201cLook!\u201d he shouted.\nOn their side of the river, less than a quarter of a mile away, gently\neddying among the tops of the spruce and balsam, were thin spirals of\nsmoke.\n\u201cA campfire!\u201d shrieked Sandy in wonder. \u201cOh boy, we\u2019re in luck! Maybe we\ncan get help\u2014a canoe or a gun.\u201d\nUnmindful of his great weariness and tortured feet, he had started out\non a dead run, when Dick called to him sharply.\n\u201cJust a minute, Sandy. Not so fast. It may be Wolf Brennan and Toby\nMcCallum.\u201d\nSandy stopped dead in his tracks.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that? Are you mad? If they had come up the river, we\u2019d have seen\nthem.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not so sure. They might have passed us while we slept, or yesterday\nwhen we were in the woods after that experience with the wild man. One\ncan never be too sure, Sandy. Our best plan is not to rush that camp, to\nmake sure who they are before we let ourselves be seen.\u201d\n\u201cThat is right, Dick,\u201d agreed Toma. \u201cBrennan an\u2019 McCallum very bad; also\nvery clever fellow. No tell just where they may be now.\u201d\nSandy, quick to see the wisdom propounded by his two friends, nodded in\nagreement while he waited for them to come up. They left the flat, sandy\nshore, where they could easily be seen, and proceeded thereafter through\nthe jack-pine and willows farther up along the slope. Inside of twenty\nminutes they had approached to within a short distance of the place\nwhere the smoke was ascending.\nAt first they could see no one. They waited in a breathless inactivity.\nThe brush was very thick and, from where they crouched, the boys could\nsee only the light streamers of smoke drifting up from among a heavy\ncopse of willow. Indeed, to determine who might be sitting around the\ncampfire, the boys soon saw that it would be necessary to creep even\ncloser. This they did not care to do for fear that the sound of their\nlight movement might be detected. If only one of the campers would rise\nup behind that brush. For ten long minutes they waited, undecided\nwhether to take the chance or not, For ten long minutes they watched the\nsmoke rising, curling and eddying up through the trees. Putting his\nhands to his lips, Dick rose stealthily and tiptoed forward another\ntwenty feet, this time more to the right. Then through a narrow opening\nin the thicket he caught sight of a kneeling form which he recognized\ninstantly. It was McCallum! And as McCallum put up a hand and leaned to\none side to evade a momentary puff of smoke from the fire, he saw Wolf\nBrennan and another man. The third person sat in such a position that\nDick caught only his profile and so did not immediately recognize him.\nEven when this third person did present a better view, Dick pondered\nover his identity. There was something vaguely familiar about him. Where\nhad he seen him? A repulsive looking man, heavily bearded with deep-set,\nstaring eyes. His flannel shirt, open at the neck, revealed a hairy,\nbear-like chest. The man was huge and muscular. One more look, then Dick\nsat down, gasping. A slow flush mounted his cheeks. He knew now. It was\nthe wild man!\n\u201cCan\u2019t be!\u201d gasped Sandy.\n\u201cI tell you it is! The wild man. With McCallum and Brennan.\u201d\nThe young Scotchman sank down to a sitting position, staring across at\nDick. Just then he had no words to voice his astonishment. But not so\nToma.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that you tell \u2019em Sandy an\u2019 me? This fellow look like crazy man\nnow wear clothes? Sit there an\u2019 talk McCallum an\u2019 Brennan like he got\nsome sense after all?\u201d\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s exactly what I\u2019ve been trying to tell you.\u201d\n\u201cNo believe.\u201d\n\u201cSlip over there then and see for yourself. It\u2019s true, Toma. He looks\ndifferent now, but it\u2019s the same person undoubtedly.\u201d\nThe young Indian still shook his head in unbelief as he crawled forward\nto the place Dick had recently vacated. For several minutes he crouched\nthere, his eyes on the three men, then cautiously returned.\n\u201cAm I right?\u201d demanded Dick.\n\u201cYou say right. It is that fellow. He no more crazy than you an\u2019 me. He\nlook like wild man, that\u2019s all. I think mebbe Wolf Brennan tell him come\nover dress like that to make us big scare.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I think.\u201d\nSandy caught at Dick\u2019s arm.\n\u201cWell,\u201d he said nervously, \u201clet\u2019s get away from here before we\u2019re\ndiscovered.\u201d\nDick did not reply. His face was serious, absorbed. He was thinking\ndeeply.\n\u201cLet\u2019s get out of here,\u201d Sandy insisted. \u201cRemember, Dick, they\u2019re armed\nand we aren\u2019t.\u201d\n\u201cJust a moment, Sandy. It\u2019s just occurred to me that these men must have\na canoe or craft of some kind. I\u2019ve been wondering if it wouldn\u2019t be\npossible to get it away from them a little later when they fall asleep.\nIf we can successfully put such a plan into effect, it won\u2019t take us\nlong to get to Half Way House.\u201d\nToma emphatically nodded his head.\n\u201cYes, if they got canoe, we try get it.\u201d\nSandy brightened visibly.\n\u201cI\u2019m willing to take the chance,\u201d he said. \u201cThis constant walking has\nbegun to tell upon us all. We have still a long way to go. Yes, I\u2019m\nwilling to take the chance,\u201d he repeated eagerly.\nIt was hot where the three boys sat. The sun, now directly overhead,\nbeat down upon them with fierce, penetrating insistence. Not a breath of\nwind stirred along the river valley. Dick wiped away the beads of\nmoisture that stood out upon his face and commenced fanning himself with\nhis broad-rimmed hat.\n\u201cFirst of all we must find out for certain whether they have a canoe,\u201d\nhe pointed out. \u201cIf they have, it\u2019s probably hid in the brush near the\nriver. We must try to find out exactly where it is.\u201d\nSandy nodded his head.\n\u201cDo you suppose there is any chance that the three of them will take a\nnap?\u201d he inquired.\n\u201cExtremely likely,\u201d rejoined Dick. \u201cFrom what I can make out, they\u2019re\npreparing their mid-day meal now. After they have eaten, they\u2019ll do\neither one of two things, embark on their journey again immediately or\nsit around and rest for an hour or two. I\u2019m very much inclined to the\nlatter view. Unlike ourselves, they\u2019re in no hurry to return to Half Way\nHouse. They\u2019ve been sent out here to watch us. No doubt, they think that\nafter the scare we received yesterday, we\u2019re still up in the woods.\u201d\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t wonder,\u201d Sandy half grinned.\n\u201cYou think we better try get gun as well as canoe?\u201d Toma asked.\n\u201cThat depends a good deal upon circumstances. I mean, we\u2019ll get one if\nwe can do it without taking too much of a chance.\u201d\n\u201cYou suggest waiting here then until we find out what they\u2019re going to\ndo?\u201d\nDick nodded. \u201cWe\u2019re as safe here as anywhere.\u201d\n\u201cLet\u2019s creep a little closer,\u201d suggested Toma.\n\u201cNo, we\u2019d better stay here. In these bushes they can\u2019t see us. If we\u2019re\nquiet, they can\u2019t hear us either.\u201d\nDuring the interval of deep silence that followed, they could hear quite\ndistinctly the voices of the three men. Occasionally, too, there came to\ntheir ears the rattle of a kettle or the clatter of a spoon. The\nascending streamers of smoke thinned gradually and finally disappeared.\nNow and again, Wolf Brennan\u2019s harsh laugh fell across the quiet air.\nThe minutes slipped by. Dick began to wonder if they would never cease\ntalking. The drone of their voices continued on unintermittingly, for an\nhour or more, before the sequestered camp became quiet. Not until then\ndid Dick turn and motion to his companions.\n\u201cNow\u2019s our chance,\u201d he whispered. \u201cToma, you and Sandy follow me down\nalong the shore of the river and we\u2019ll try to find that canoe. We must\ntake our time. In case they hear us we\u2019ll make a break for the trees and\nclimb the slope.\u201d\nMoving slowly, cautiously, Dick led the way down to the river. They were\nglad when they reached the belt of white sand. Their footsteps could not\nbe heard here. They proceeded about fifty yards, to a point just below\nthe place where the three men were camped. Though they looked up along\nthe bank eagerly, they had seen no trace of the outlaws\u2019 craft. But\npresently, Toma moved closer to Dick, nudging him in the elbow.\n\u201cI see it,\u201d he breathed.\n\u201cWhere?\u201d\nThe young Indian pointed. \u201cRight there,\u201d he said.\nDick\u2019s heart nearly stood still. The canoe was farther up the bank than\nhe had expected. The three men had carried it within thirty feet of the\nplace where they had built their fire. Its graceful lines standing out\nsharply against the background of green brush\u2014never had the boys looked\nupon anything they wanted so much and yet which seemed so unattainable.\nEven if Wolf Brennan and his two unprepossessing companions were\nsleeping soundly, how could they ever contrive to creep up there\nunheard, pick up the canoe and make their way back to the river?\nIt would be a terrible risk. Careful though they might be, it would be\nalmost impossible to secure the prize without arousing the sleepers.\nDisheartened, the boys crouched down close to the bank.\n\u201cGuess we\u2019ll have to give it up,\u201d murmured Sandy, \u201cWe\u2019ll lose our lives\nin the attempt.\u201d\nDick groaned. \u201cAnd when they wake up, they\u2019ll start up the river again\nand we\u2019ll probably never have another chance.\u201d\nAs he spoke, he looked at Toma and noticed a sudden sparkle of\ndetermination in the young Indian\u2019s eyes. Toma had become excited,\nrestless. His hands moved along the edge of the bank nervously.\n\u201cTell you what we do,\u201d he proposed. \u201cI have plan. Listen, Dick. You two\nfellows stay here. Keep down close to bank so they no see you. While you\ndo that I circle round through the trees an\u2019 come down on them from\nabove, making loud noise. Pretty soon I wake \u2019em up. I try keep hid. By\nan\u2019 by, them fellows think mebbe it\u2019s a bear an\u2019 come up an\u2019 try find\nit. Soon they do that, you, Sandy run up quick, get canoe.\u201d\n\u201cAnd leave you in the lurch,\u201d protested Sandy. \u201cI guess not. You\u2019ll get\na bullet for your pains.\u201d\nToma shook his head. \u201cNo \u2019fraid of that. I keep plenty hid alla time.\nPretty soon them fellows give up an\u2019 go back to camp.\u201d\n\u201cBut what will you do?\u201d inquired Dick.\n\u201cI keep right on till I come to bend in river. You an\u2019 Sandy be watch,\nlook for me alla time an\u2019 soon I come down to shore you paddle in an\u2019\npick me up.\u201d\nDick\u2019s face grew instantly grave.\n\u201cThe plan might or might not work,\u201d he decided. \u201cSupposing, Toma, that\nonly one or two of them leave camp. How do you know they\u2019ll all follow\nyou?\u201d\n\u201cI not know that,\u201d the young Indian admitted. \u201cBut pretty good chance\nthey all come when I make noise.\u201d\n\u201cBut if only two should follow you, what will we do?\u201d persisted Dick.\n\u201cMebbe you get chance to get canoe anyway. If one fellow stay at camp,\nhe very much like to know what other two fellow do, what you call \u2019em,\nhe be excite. He keep look up that way. Then mebbe you an\u2019 Sandy creep\nup close behind him with club an\u2019 knock him down.\u201d\nDick\u2019s breath caught. He and Sandy were staring questioningly and a\nlittle wildly into each other\u2019s eyes.\nToma persisted. \u201cWhat you say \u2019bout that?\u201d\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t do it, Dick,\u201d Sandy exploded. \u201cThere\u2019s something sneaky and\ncowardly about creeping up and knocking a man down with a club. I just\ncan\u2019t do it. I can\u2019t!\u201d\n\u201cHe try same by you,\u201d the young Indian scowled. \u201cWhat for you not do it\nto him?\u201d\n\u201cIf we had a rope,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwe might grab him and tie him up.\u201d\nToma\u2019s face fell. \u201cWhy we talk \u2019bout that now? Mebbe all three follow\nme. It\u2019s only chance I see to get canoe.\u201d\n\u201cAll right,\u201d Dick suddenly came to a decision. \u201cWe\u2019ll risk it. We\u2019ve\ndelayed long enough now. Get busy, Toma, and carry out your plan just as\nyou\u2019ve told it to us.\u201d\nThe Indian\u2019s sober features lighted into a broad smile. Swinging about\nwithout further preliminary, he broke into a dog-trot, then, twenty\nyards further down the shore, turned and began making his way up the\nsteep embankment. The boys watched him for a while, whereupon they\nturned and looked at each other, their cheeks flushed with excitement.\nDick reached over quickly and laid his right hand on Sandy\u2019s shaking\nshoulder.\n\u201cWe\u2019re in for it now,\u201d he said.\nThe first intimation Dick and Sandy had that Toma had arrived opposite\nthe outlaws\u2019 camp was when they saw Wolf Brennan spring to his feet,\nrifle in hand, and call sharply to his two friends. Immediately after\nthat, a crackling in the brush, made by Toma, came to their ears.\n\u201cA moose!\u201d shouted Wolf Brennan, pointing.\nThe other two, disturbed from their slumbers, scrambled to a place\nbeside Brennan, their attitudes that of tense watching.\nBreathless with excitement, Dick wondered if Toma\u2019s ruse would work. The\nthree men stood there immobile as three statues. The crackling noise up\nalong the slope continued. Finally, when the boys had begun to believe\nthat the outlaws were too clever for them, Wolf Brennan turned upon his\ntwo compatriots, growling:\n\u201cToby, yuh stay here while me and Willison take a run up there tuh see\nwhat\u2019s up. All ready, Willison, grab your gun.\u201d\nWillison obeyed implicitly, following Wolf Brennan up along the slope to\nthe first ridge on the ascent. Toby McCallum, one hand against a tree,\nstood and watched them depart. Dick nudged Sandy.\n\u201cNow!\u201d he whispered tersely. \u201cYou drag down the canoe while I attend to\nMcCallum.\u201d\nThey clambered up the low embankment, moving swiftly and quietly.\nReaching the canoe, Sandy paused while Dick gathering momentum, leaped\nstraight over a low barricade of scraggy brush and hurled himself\nstraight at his adversary.\nTurning in time to see Dick leaping for him, McCallum instinctively\nraised one arm to ward off the attack. However, this defensive action\ncame too late. With all his weight behind it, Dick struck McCallum in a\nflying tackle just above the knees. The outlaw crashed down like a sack\nof wheat. He was somewhat stunned by the impact of the fall, but, even\nthen, tried to reach out for his rifle, lying on the ground barely two\nfeet away.\nIn the meantime, perceiving both Dick and McCallum struggling on the\nground, locked in each other\u2019s arms, Sandy dropped the bow of the canoe\nand hurried to the rescue. Just as Dick succeeded in pinioning\nMcCallum\u2019s arms under him, Sandy caught up the outlaw\u2019s gun.\n\u201cQuick, Dick!\u201d he shouted. \u201cI\u2019ve got it.\u201d\nDick released his hold and staggered to his feet.\n\u201cGlad you came, Sandy,\u201d he panted. \u201cMcCallum, lay right there,\u201d he\nordered savagely, \u201cif you know what\u2019s good for you.\u201d\nWhile Sandy covered their prisoner, Dick stooped and unbuckled the\ncartridge belt from around McCallum\u2019s waist, placed it about his own,\nthen took the rifle from Sandy\u2019s trembling hands.\n\u201cHurry, Sandy!\u201d he blurted. \u201cGo over and pull down that canoe. I\u2019ll\nwatch McCallum here until you\u2019re ready.\u201d\nThe prospector\u2019s face was livid with rage and humiliation as Sandy\ndeparted. Suddenly, to Dick\u2019s surprise, he opened his mouth and shouted\nat the top of his voice. It was a warning, clarion call that echoed and\nre-echoed through that quiet forest place.\nDick\u2019s cheeks blanched. \u201cYell all you like,\u201d he told McCallum. \u201cWe\u2019ll\nget away just the same.\u201d\nFrom his position there on the ground, the outlaw glared up, his face\ncrimson with fury, and broke into a torrent of abusive oaths.\n\u201cYuh\u2019ll pay for this,\u201d he snarled. \u201cYuh ain\u2019t got safe back tuh Half Way\nHouse yet. It\u2019ll take a hull lot more than one canoe and one rifle tuh\nget yuh there. Remember that.\u201d\n\u201cYes, I\u2019ll remember it,\u201d said Dick tensely, \u201cand I\u2019ll be on the lookout\nfor you too.\u201d\n\u201cYuh better,\u201d growled the other.\nDick did not reply. Out of the corner of one eye he was watching Sandy\u2019s\nprogress toward the shore. The moment the canoe slid across the belt of\nyellow sand, he addressed himself to McCallum.\n\u201cIf you get off the ground before I reach the river, I\u2019ll take a\npot-shot at you,\u201d he threatened. \u201cWe\u2019re desperate\u2014and I mean business.\nJust try it if you like.\u201d\nEvidently McCallum took Dick at his word, for he did not so much as move\na muscle as Dick sped down to the shore where Sandy awaited him. He\njumped into the canoe and Sandy pushed off. Putting down his rifle, he\nseized one of the oars and began paddling frantically. The canoe rocked\nand swayed as it darted over the water. Spray dashed up around them.\nThey swept into the central channel, desperately bucking the swift\ncurrent. It was a race against death. Any moment now Wolf Brennan would\nreturn and commence firing from shore. In the glare of the sun, the\nriver roared about them. They paddled as they had never paddled before.\nThe shoreline gradually receded. On and on they swept. Perspiration\npoured out upon their foreheads and trickled into their eyes. Their\nbreath struggled in their throats.\nZip! A bullet whistled between them and spat viciously into the water.\nCrack! A puff of smoke from shore, and Dick\u2019s paddle leaped out of his\nhands, punctured by a speeding pellet of destruction.\nWith a quick, convulsive movement of his arm, Dick retrieved his paddle\nand as he did so he caught a glimpse of three figures running along the\nshore.\n\u201cMake for the opposite side!\u201d he screeched to Sandy. \u201cWe must get out of\nrifle range.\u201d\n\u201cBut Toma\u2014\u201d faltered Sandy.\n\u201cHe\u2019ll look after himself. Quick, Sandy!\u201d His own paddle clove the water\nagain just as a third bullet whistled above their heads.\nIn a few minutes more their danger perceptibly decreased. The fire from\nthe two on shore was now going more wide of its mark. Soon it ceased\naltogether. They were close to the opposite shore now, still paddling\ndesperately.\n\u201cDick, I can\u2019t stand this pace much longer,\u201d Sandy gasped\n\u201cAll right, ease up. We\u2019ll run ashore for a minute or two.\u201d\nWhen Sandy had grunted his approval, Dick turned the bow of the canoe\nsharply and the light, graceful craft grated upon the white sand and\ncame to a full stop.\n\u201cGood gracious, Dick,\u201d Sandy gurgled, springing out, \u201cthat was a close\ncall. I\u2019m afraid they\u2019re going to capture Toma.\u201d\nDick shook his head. \u201cNot that boy. He\u2019s too clever for them,\u201d he\nreplied, still breathing heavily.\n\u201cBut how will we ever manage to pick him up again?\u201d blurted the young\nScotchman.\n\u201cHave to await our chance. Toma will keep an eye on us. He\u2019ll make his\nway along the opposite shore. When he thinks the time is propitious,\nhe\u2019ll give us a signal.\u201d\n\u201cI hope so,\u201d said Sandy prayerfully. \u201cIf it wasn\u2019t for him, we wouldn\u2019t\nbe where we are now.\u201d\n\u201cTrue. But don\u2019t worry about him. He\u2019s clever, as you ought to know by\nnow. I haven\u2019t the least fear that Brennan will ever succeed in\ncapturing him.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you propose to do now?\u201d asked Sandy.\nDick pursed his lips. \u201cWhen we are rested, we\u2019ll paddle along this side\nof the river slowly so that Toma will have plenty of time to keep up\nwith us. We\u2019ll go up the river a mile or two and then stop for the\nnight. We\u2019ll build a fire close to the shore so that Toma will know just\nwhere we are, what we are doing. We\u2019ll have to take turns sleeping\ntonight. I don\u2019t think there is any danger that Brennan\u2019s party will\nbuild a raft and come over, yet it will be wise to be on our guard. Now\nthat they know we have a rifle, they\u2019ll think twice before they try a\nstunt like that.\u201d\nThe remainder of the afternoon passed uneventfully. They saw no more of\nBrennan and his friends, neither did they catch a glimpse of Toma. Just\nbefore dusk they disembarked in a sheltered spot and by means of the\nfire stone soon had a blazing campfire near the shore. While Dick\nwatched it and gathered more drift-wood and dry branches, Sandy took the\nrifle and went up along the slope in search of game. Within twenty\nminutes he came back carrying a rabbit.\n\u201cWish Toma was here to enjoy it with us,\u201d he stated a little\nsorrowfully. \u201cDick, I\u2019m terribly afraid that something has happened to\nhim. I try to make myself believe that he\u2019s safe, but the feeling still\npersists.\u201d\nDick laughed away Sandy\u2019s fears while he prepared supper and later as\nthey gathered brush for a high bon-fire. The fire would keep them warm\nthat night, Dick explained. Also it would be a beacon to let Toma know\njust where they were.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll keep it burning brightly until morning,\u201d he told Sandy. \u201cWhat\npart of the night would you like to keep watch?\u201d he inquired.\n\u201cFrom now until a little after midnight,\u201d replied Sandy.\nSo it was decided. A pale dusk covered the earth when Dick stretched out\nby the fire and went to sleep, but it was much darker than usual when he\nwas awakened by his weary chum and notified that it was his turn to\nstand guard.\n\u201cKeep the fire going good, Dick,\u201d Sandy instructed sleepily. \u201cIt\u2019s\nchilly and I\u2019d like to have an unbroken sleep.\u201d\nThe young Scotchman was slumbering deeply, curled up alongside the\ncomforting blaze, by the time Dick had returned with his first arm-load\nof wood. The older boy smiled as he looked down at him. What an eventful\nday it had been, he mused. No wonder Sandy was so tired. The\ndifficulties and hardships of the past week had tested strength,\nendurance and nerve to the utmost. They couldn\u2019t go on indefinitely like\nthis. The hard pace had begun to tell. By the look of him, Sandy\ncouldn\u2019t stand much more of it. His cheeks were sunken and there were\ndeep hollows under his eyes.\nThe young leader sighed and sat down with his back to the fire, his gaze\nwandering. Up overhead the clouds seemed to be gathering for rain.\nThrough a narrow rift shone a handful of brilliant stars and a white\nhalf-circle of moon. Down below, glinting mysteriously, was the wide\npath of the river. Tonight its song was as mournful as the weird music\nof an Indian lullabye.\nDick continued to sit there half musing, half dreaming, until suddenly\ndown near the shore he heard a loud splash. He bolted to his feet and\nran for his rifle. Wolf Brennan\u2014was his first thought. Wolf Brennan and\nToby McCallum! They had made a raft and come over after all!\nHe caught the rifle to him, when a muffled figure staggered up over the\nbank, shaking himself like a dog that had been thrown into a\nmill-pond\u2014shaking and blowing and shivering, and beating his arms to\nquicken the circulation in his body.\nDick gave one short, sharp cry, dropped his rifle and darted forward,\narms outstretched.\n\u201cToma! Toma!\u201d he called.\n                       THE MEETING ON THE RIVER.\nWhen Sandy awoke on the following morning, his joy was unbounded. Taking\none look at Toma, he gasped and daubed frantically at his sleep-stained\neyes. Both the young Indian and Dick laughed at the young Scotchman\u2019s\nastonishment.\n\u201cHow did you get here?\u201d asked Sandy, finding his voice.\n\u201cI swim across the river,\u201d grinned Toma.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that! Across the river!\u201d Sandy\u2019s eyes grew wide.\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s what I do. River cold and swift, but me, I think pretty\nsure I make it.\u201d\n\u201cHe arrived here in the middle of the night,\u201d explained Dick. \u201cIt was\nabout an hour after you woke me up to relieve you for guard duty.\u201d\nSandy looked out at the river that swirled and rolled along northward.\nAt the point where Toma had crossed, it was over half a mile wide. Its\nwaters were swift and as cold as ice. A remarkable feat even for an\nexpert.\nAll the boys were happy and in high spirits when they embarked in the\ncanoe an hour later and resumed their journey upstream. Though it was\nhard work to paddle incessantly against the strong current, it was\nnevertheless a welcome relief after the days they had spent in\ntravelling on foot. All day they sweated at their task. They were miles\naway from Wolf Brennan and his party by the time that night fell. They\nwere turning in towards shore to make camp, when Toma, who was sitting\nin the bow, suddenly sang out:\n\u201cCanoe! Canoe! I see \u2019em canoe!\u201d\nInstantly Dick and Sandy straightened up, their eyes almost staring from\ntheir heads.\n\u201cWhere?\u201d they demanded in one voice.\n\u201cOh, I see it now!\u201d Sandy shouted. \u201cHold into mid-stream Toma, so we\u2019ll\nmeet him. Small canoe. Just one man. Wonder who it is?\u201d\nThe canoe and its lone occupant drifted toward them. Closer and closer\nit came. The man, industriously plying his paddle, took form. Dick\u2019s\nheart leaped and he suddenly went weak all over. He recognized the garb\nof that lonely traveller. No mistaking that broad-brimmed hat and\nscarlet coat. A mounted policeman! All of the boys had become so\nbreathlessly interested in trying to determine the identity of the\noccupant of the canoe that he was within two hundred yards of them\nbefore any of them spoke again. Then, suddenly Dick raised his paddle\nand waved a frantic, hilarious greeting.\n\u201cCorporal Rand!\u201d he shrieked.\nThe policeman had never received a more spontaneous and noisy welcome.\nThe three chums howled and shrieked. They rent the air with their\nhuzzas. In the stern, Sandy laughingly reached out, caught the prow of\nRand\u2019s canoe and both crafts floated down stream nearly fifty yards\nwhile they exchanged greetings. Then, as if moved by a common impulse\nthey swerved to the left and presently disembarked at the edge of a\nsand-bar projecting out from shore.\n\u201cI never expected to meet any of you here,\u201d stated the corporal, pulling\nup his canoe. \u201cThought you were all over at Fort Good Faith. In fact, I\nsent a letter over there less than a week ago, asking you to meet me at\nHalf Way House.\u201d\n\u201cYou did?\u201d gasped Dick and Sandy.\n\u201cYes, and I was disappointed when you didn\u2019t show up.\u201d\nDick\u2019s expression was one of amazement.\n\u201cDidn\u2019t Factor Frazer tell you where we had gone?\u201d he demanded.\n\u201cWhy no. Did he know?\u201d\n\u201cCertainly he knew.\u201d There was an angry quaver in Dick\u2019s voice. \u201cHe was\nthe one that sent us up here.\u201d\n\u201cDid you let him know that you expected us from Fort Good Faith?\u201d\ninquired Sandy.\nThe corporal nodded.\n\u201cAnd he said nothing?\u201d\n\u201cNot a word.\u201d\nIn jerky, angry sentences, Dick told Corporal Rand of the dinosaur and\nof the incidents leading up to their journey to the island of the\ngranite shaft. Out of breath at last, he paused and Sandy took up the\nnarrative where he left off, relating in the minutest detail everything\nthat had happened subsequent to their departure from the island. Rand\nlistened without once asking a question or making a comment. Even after\nSandy had finished, he sat silent and thoughtful, the toe of one boot\ntracing patterns in the sand.\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you laugh?\u201d asked Sandy.\nCorporal Rand straightened up. \u201cLaugh? What for?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, at the beautiful joke Factor Frazer played upon us.\u201d\nCorporal Rand\u2019s brows knit and his mouth tightened.\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t impress me as being particularly amusing.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you make of it all?\u201d\nThe policeman raised his eyes toward the young Scotchman and half\nsmiled.\n\u201cI\u2019ll be perfectly frank. I haven\u2019t the least idea.\u201d\n\u201cCan you imagine what we have done to incur their enmity\u2014Factor\nFrazer\u2019s, Wolf Brennan\u2019s and Toby McCallum\u2019s?\u201d\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\u201cWhen I first saw you, do you know what I thought?\u201d inquired the young\nleader of the trio.\n\u201cNo. What did you think, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cI thought perhaps you had guessed that we were in trouble and had come\nto our rescue.\u201d\nCorporal Rand shook his head. \u201cNo, I am on patrol duty.\u201d\n\u201cBut why did you wish to meet us at Half Way House?\u201d persisted Dick.\n\u201cThat\u2019s a different story. The police have another little job for you.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d the boys inquired in unison.\n\u201cWanted you to go over to Caribou Lake to investigate a rumor.\u201d\nThe three boys gathered more closely around the policeman.\n\u201cWhat rumor?\u201d asked Dick.\nCorporal Rand rubbed his chin thoughtfully.\n\u201cIt concerns a certain Conroy Miller, a prospector who has been working\nup in that section. Miller has not been heard from since last fall. He\nsent word down to Ford Laird by an Indian that he proposed to trap all\nwinter in the vicinity of Caribou Lake, where he had staked out a few\nmining claims, and asked Factor Goodwin to send out a quantity of\nsupplies. On the first of December last year the Indian, who had brought\nin the message, and several companions with dog teams, took the supplies\nout to Miller and afterward returned, reporting that Miller had received\nthem and wished to thank the factor for his kindly co-operation.\n\u201cWell, a few weeks ago a trapper, a German named Lutz, reported to the\nFort McKenzie detachment that he had passed through the Caribou Lake\nregion and had stopped at Miller\u2019s cabin. He reported that the cabin was\nwell stocked with provisions but that no one was there. In fact, there\nwas every evidence that the cabin had not been tenanted for months.\nDishes were on the table just as Miller had left them. In one corner of\nthe room was a quantity of green fur and a pile of traps. Dust had\nsettled everywhere, proving conclusively that Miller had not been at\nhome for a long time.\u201d\nCorporal Rand paused for a moment, then resumed.\n\u201cLutz, who is an honorable fellow in every way, became frightened,\njumped to the conclusion that Miller had met with an accident and\nsearched the vicinity in an attempt to find the prospector\u2019s body.\nUnsuccessful in this, he proceeded straight to McKenzie Barracks and\nreported the matter to us.\u201d\n\u201cAre you on your way there now?\u201d Dick cut in.\n\u201cYes. I wanted you boys to go along to help search for the body. When\nyou failed to meet me at Half Way House, I started on alone.\u201d\n\u201cYou hold to the Lutz theory then, that he met with an accident while\ntrapping?\u201d interrogated Sandy.\n\u201cWe have come to no definite conclusions yet. We may find his body there\nand we may not. If we don\u2019t, I propose to follow up another lead, that\nhe has met with foul play.\u201d\n\u201cFoul play?\u201d cried Dick.\n\u201cYes, it is possible. There are many rumors floating around about him.\nNothing tangible yet. However, there is one thing we have made a note\nof. On April third, an Indian named Henri Karek claims he met Miller on\nthe trail between Thunder River and Lynx Lake. He stated further that\nMiller was in the best of health and carried a good grub supply. His\ndestination, he told the Indian, was Fort Laird.\u201d\n\u201cWonder if the Indian really met him,\u201d mused Dick.\n\u201cHe met someone by the name of Miller,\u201d replied the corporal, \u201cbut\nwhether it was our man or not is a debatable question. Since then other\nstories have been circulated, most of them, I fear, without foundation.\nIf it was really Conroy Miller that Karek met on the trail, he never\nreached his destination. That much I have found out by making inquiries\nat Fort Laird.\u201d\nThe corporal paused abruptly, regarding the boys through half closed\nlids. Dick wondered what he was thinking about.\n\u201cHow long since you left the dinosaur\u2019s island?\u201d the policeman suddenly\ninquired.\n\u201cJust two weeks ago today,\u201d Sandy replied.\n\u201cYou\u2019ve had an unusual experience. Went hungry, didn\u2019t you? Looks as if\nyou\u2019d been living on a diet of fish and no mistake. Honestly, Dick, I\nbelieve you\u2019ve lost ten pounds.\u201d\n\u201cI think I have,\u201d came the unconcerned rejoinder.\n\u201cWolf and McCallum will have to answer for this some day, but I don\u2019t\nwant to do anything now. We\u2019ll give them plenty of rope and see if they\nwon\u2019t eventually hang themselves. Now about that pseudo-wildman you\nspoke of, I can\u2019t seem to place him\u2014unless it\u2019s old Bill Willison, an\neccentric trapper who used to live in the vicinity of Fort Laird.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s who it is!\u201d Dick exclaimed. \u201cI remember now. They called him\nWillison.\u201d\n\u201cToo bad he\u2019s fallen into their net. He\u2019s not a vicious character and\nwould harm no one if left alone. The old man is as rugged as the hills\nand they say as old as Methuselah. If he has joined Brennan\u2019s party, it\nwas under compulsion. Of that I feel sure. No doubt, the canoe you have\nbelongs to him.\u201d\n\u201cDoes the old man wander around sometimes just dressed in furs and\nwithout any shoes or moccasins?\u201d\nRand laughed. \u201cYes. The other clothes you saw him in, he wears only when\nhe goes to a trading post for supplies. In his own natural habitat, old\nWillison is almost as wild as he looks.\u201d\n\u201cThen Brennan and McCallum sent him to frighten us?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cUndoubtedly.\u201d\nToma edged closer, waiting for a chance to break into the conversation.\nCorporal Rand noted his look.\n\u201cYes, Toma, what is it?\u201d he asked kindly.\nThe young Indian put his hand to his stomach and grinned.\n\u201cIf you got some tea, corporal,\u201d he hinted, \u201cI like \u2019em get your kettle\nand put some water over the fire. No taste tea for over two weeks.\u201d\n\u201cJust fish and rabbits,\u201d grunted Sandy.\n\u201cAnd don\u2019t forget the clams and porcupine,\u201d appended Dick.\nCool air rose from the river, driving before it long, grey streamers of\nmist. Up through the trees it spread, close to the ground, dense as\nsmoke. Across the sandbar, well up on the bank above, in the deep shadow\nof the balsam, a bright fire etched in bold relief the faces of Corporal\nRand and the three boys. They made a complete circle around the fire and\nwere conversing eagerly. Just now it was Sandy who held the center of\ninterest.\n\u201cSomething underhanded going on at Half Way House,\u201d he explained to the\ncorporal. \u201cI think that Uncle Walter is suspicious of Factor Frazer. I\ndon\u2019t know exactly what the trouble is, but I think it has something to\ndo with the way Mr. Frazer has been keeping his accounts. You see, Uncle\nWalter is Chief Factor for this district and audits the books of all the\ntrading posts. He acted very mysterious when he asked us to go over to\nHalf Way House. Didn\u2019t he, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cYes, he did,\u201d Dick corroborated his chum.\n\u201cIt looks to me,\u201d Sandy went on, \u201cas if Mr. Frazer suspected that we\nwere spies sent by my uncle and took the method he did to get rid of\nus.\u201d\n\u201cSeems very likely,\u201d smiled the policeman.\n\u201cWolf Brennan and Toby McCallum were at the post when we left,\u201d\ncontinued Sandy. \u201cAfter what has happened, we can draw only one\nconclusion, that these two men are paid emissaries of Frazer\u2019s. I\nsuspect he wants to keep us out here until he has had time to cover up\nsome sort of deviltry.\u201d\nCorporal Rand rose and gazed down into the fire.\n\u201cIt would seem so, Sandy. Something deeply mysterious afoot there.\nProbably another case for the police to solve. I\u2019ve never known it to\nfail. No sooner do we hear of an important case and start working upon\nit, than something else crops up. We\u2019ve done nothing but patrol duty\nuntil this Miller case came to our attention. I start out upon this case\nwhen I learn of this business at Half Way House. Probably before I get\nback from Caribou Lake, there will be a murder or two added to the\ngrowing list of crimes.\u201d\n\u201cDo you plan to have us accompany you to Caribou Lake?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cWhen I met you out here this afternoon, that was my intention. But now\nthat I\u2019ve talked with you and heard your story I\u2019ve changed my mind.\nIt\u2019s more important that you should go on to Half Way House. By\ntravelling as fast as you can, you should make it in four more days.\u201d\n\u201cWhat will we do when we get there?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cThat\u2019s up to you,\u201d Corporal Rand spoke grimly. \u201cYou handled the\nDewberry case very nicely. I\u2019m really in no position to advise you or\nhelp you in any way because I don\u2019t know what\u2019s wrong there. If I were\nyou though, the minute I arrived I\u2019d confront Frazer and demand an\nexplanation. I\u2019d mention Wolf Brennan and McCallum too. Make it plain\nthat you intend to take up the matter with the police.\u201d\n\u201cDo you believe there is a chance that he may confess?\u201d asked Sandy\nincredulously.\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t. But there is a chance that your accusations may sweep him\noff his guard, that he will blurt out something that will give you a\nclue to the mystery.\u201d\n\u201cI never thought of that,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cI\u2019ll divide my grubstake with you,\u201d Rand went on. \u201cI haven\u2019t much, but\nyou\u2019re welcome to half of it. I can give you tea, rice, a little sugar,\npart of a slab of bacon and about ten pounds of flour.\u201d\n\u201cYou may run yourself short,\u201d Dick hesitated.\n\u201cNo,\u201d smiled Rand. \u201cI can look after myself.\u201d\n\u201cNow that we\u2019ve met you, I hate to separate so soon.\u201d\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be helped,\u201d smiled the policeman. \u201cAnd that reminds me that\nit\u2019s getting late. We must hurry to bed if we expect to make an early\nstart tomorrow.\u201d\nFollowing a good breakfast the next morning, the boys loaded their\ncanoe, shook hands with the corporal and, just at six o\u2019clock by Rand\u2019s\nwatch, the two canoes floated out into the river, separated and began\nspeeding on their respective ways. All day the boys worked like Trojans.\nIn spite of a delay of over an hour at one portage, they managed to\ntravel over forty miles before they stopped at dusk to make camp.\nThe second day was more or less a repetition of the first and, on the\nafternoon of the third day since their meeting with Corporal Rand, they\ndrew up at the boat landing at Half Way House, tired but exultant.\nThey walked up along the well-beaten path toward the trading post, the\ncynosure of curious eyes. And indeed, this was not to be wondered at.\nTheir appearance resembled scarecrows more than human beings. They were\nragged from head to foot. Their faces were burned a deep brown from the\nexposure to sun and wind. As they made their way past a row of cabins,\nthe company\u2019s warehouse and finally to the store itself, Toma\u2019s\nabbreviated trousers caused a good deal of merriment among lounging\ngroups of Indians and half-breeds.\nThough they were exultant, they were also grim. Dick\u2019s eyes were hard as\nhe led his two companions through those tittering groups. His hands were\nclenched tightly at his sides and, reaching the entrance he flung open\nthe door and strode defiantly in. Toma and Sandy followed, their manner\nbelligerent.\nBehind the counter, busily occupied in rearranging merchandise on the\nshelves, the factor, Mr. Donald Frazer had not noticed their entrance.\nWhen he did look around, his face paled.\n\u201cY\u2014y\u2014you!\u201d he trembled.\nThree pairs of glaring, unfriendly eyes bored into the wavering optics\nof the man behind the counter. As yet, not one of the boys had spoken. A\ndeep and ominous silence settled over the room.\n\u201cWe\u2019re back!\u201d Dick cleared his throat.\n\u201cSo I perceive,\u201d the factor attempted to make light of the matter, but\nhis effort at jocularity proved a dismal failure.\n\u201cWe\u2019re back,\u201d Dick repeated, his voice harsh and cold, \u201cand we demand an\naccounting. You\u2019re a miserable snake, Frazer, and you have a lot to\nanswer for. Before we report this matter to the police, perhaps you\u2019d\nlike to do a little explaining on your own account.\u201d\nThe factor\u2019s right hand reached out and he grasped the counter for\nsupport. He tried to speak, but in his fear and great agitation, the\nwords would not come. A queer rumbling in his throat, his jaw muscles\ntwitching, his face white, he stood there helplessly staring at the\nthree determined figures confronting him.\n\u201cDidn\u2019t expect us back, did you?\u201d almost snarled Dick. \u201cHad an idea that\nwe\u2019d starve out there, didn\u2019t you? Thought that your friends, Wolf\nBrennan and Toby McCallum, would settle our hash for good and all,\ndidn\u2019t you? Well, we\u2019re back. What do you propose to do about it?\u201d\nFrazer\u2019s face distorted queerly and he protested angrily.\n\u201cWhat sort of a plot are you trying to lay at my door?\u201d he wheezed.\n\u201cBrennan and McCallum\u2014I don\u2019t understand you. What have they to do with\nme? If you had trouble with them, it was not of my making.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t try to deny that you didn\u2019t send them. You did.\u201d\nAt this juncture Sandy completely lost his temper. In a flash, he had\nbounded over the counter, seizing Frazer by the throat.\n\u201cYou wretch!\u201d he shouted, shaking the factor as a cat might shake a\nmouse. \u201cYou wretch! Don\u2019t lie to us! You sent us out there to the island\nof the dinosaur for no other reason than to get rid of us. And then,\u201d\nSandy shrieked \u201cyou instructed those two miserable rats to follow us to\nmake sure we didn\u2019t get back.\u201d\nThe factor was a powerful man and Sandy\u2019s advantage was only temporary.\nFrazer flung him off, stepped back and his fist crashed into Sandy\u2019s\nface sending him reeling back, where he toppled and fell over a packing\ncase. The resounding impact of his fall was sufficiently heavy to shake\nthe room. Dick and Toma cried out angrily and they, too, leaped over the\nbarrier. Retreating before them, Frazer sped down along the space behind\nthe counter, reached up in one of the shelves and whipped out a\nrevolver, just as Dick made a lurch for him.\n\u201cStand back!\u201d he cried, breathing hard.\nAn inner door flew open. There came the sound of running footsteps. Dick\nturned in time to see, to his unutterable astonishment, the commanding\nfigure of Sandy\u2019s uncle, Mr. Walter MacClaren.\n                      CHARGES AND COUNTER-CHARGES.\n\u201cMr. Frazer,\u201d ordered Factor MacClaren, \u201cput down that gun. Dick, what\u2019s\nthe meaning of this?\u201d\nBefore Dick had time to reply, Sandy\u2019s head uprose behind the counter,\ntwisted around and presented a blood-stained face to his uncle. At sight\nof it, Mr. MacClaren started back in dismay.\n\u201cGood Heavens, Sandy\u2014you too! What have you boys been up to?\u201d He whirled\ntoward Frazer again. \u201cPut down that gun, I told you. Put it down! Mr.\nFrazer, Dick, Sandy, I demand an explanation. Are you all mad?\u201d\n\u201cIf you want the truth, they attacked me first.\u201d Frazer had grown more\ncalm now. \u201cYour own nephew grabbed me by the throat and I knocked him\ndown. These other two miscreants were coming toward me just as you ran\nin. I picked up the revolver as a last resort. I have a right to defend\nmyself.\u201d\nMr. Walter MacClaren sat down in a chair, produced a handkerchief and\nfeverishly mopped his brow. Sandy clambered over the counter and\nadvanced toward him. Dick was still trembling and fighting mad. Toma\u2019s\nlips were drawn tightly across his teeth. There was still an atmosphere\nof tension in the room. Sandy\u2019s voice broke the quiet.\n\u201cUncle Walter, that man is no better than a murderer. He sent us up Half\nWay River on a fool\u2019s errand, then hired a couple of his confederates to\ntrack us down and try to kill us.\u201d\nMr. MacClaren stared at his nephew incredulously. It was his Scottish\ncaution that moved him to exclaim.\n\u201cCareful, Sandy. Careful, Sandy, my boy. Those are hard words. A\nmurderer, you say. Are you prepared to back up your statements?\u201d\n\u201cI am,\u201d spat Sandy.\n\u201cMr. MacClaren, he lies.\u201d It was Frazer\u2019s voice. \u201cThere is no truth in\nwhat he says. The boys are laboring under a delusion. If they\u2019ve been\nattacked while away on their trip, it was not through any of my\nconniving. I have nothing whatever to do with Wolf Brennan and Toby\nMcCallum. Those men are not in my employ, as these three young men seem\nto believe.\u201d\n\u201cThey have been in your employ, haven\u2019t they?\u201d MacClaren asked drily.\n\u201cIndeed, they have not,\u201d protested Frazer.\n\u201cIf that is true, how do you account for the three entries in your own\nledger under the date of March third, seventh and fifteenth? According\nto your own books, you paid McCallum and Brennan for work done here at\nthe post.\u201d\n\u201cYes, I\u2019ll admit that but\u2014\u201d Frazer paused slightly confused.\n\u201cThey have been in your employ then?\u201d Mr. MacClaren persisted.\n\u201cLittle tasks about the post here,\u201d the other retorted. \u201cDoes it\nnecessarily follow that they are in my employ regularly?\u201d\n\u201cNo, it doesn\u2019t. But it does give us a line on the type of men you do\nemploy.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re prejudiced,\u201d flamed Frazer.\n\u201cNot at all. If these boys are wrong, I shall insist that they\napologize. But it hasn\u2019t been proved that they are wrong yet. Sandy, go\non with your story.\u201d\nDuring its recital, Mr. MacClaren\u2019s eyes narrowed. He turned again upon\nthe factor.\n\u201cYou must have known, Mr. Frazer, that the boys could never bring back\nthe bones of that dinosaur. Isn\u2019t that true?\u201d\n\u201cNo, it isn\u2019t. I never saw the dinosaur. I had no idea that it was so\nlarge.\u201d\n\u201cLook here,\u201d protested Dick, \u201cI can bring witnesses here to prove that\nyou visited the dinosaur\u2019s island two years ago.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s uncle ignored the sally. He asked the post manager another\nquestion.\n\u201cYou promised the boys six hundred dollars if they would bring the bones\nof the dinosaur back here to Half Way House. Is that correct?\u201d\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\u201cAs I understand it, the bones of the dinosaur were to be sold to a\nfamous London Museum. Is that also correct?\u201d\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\u201cYou have a letter from that museum making a certain offer.\u201d\n\u201cYes, Mr. MacClaren, I have.\u201d\n\u201cMay I see it?\u201d\n\u201cYou could see it if I had any desire to show it to you, but I haven\u2019t.\nI consider it none of your business.\u201d\nMr. MacClaren smiled grimly at this affront.\n\u201cVery well. That may not be my business, but what you do here as a\nfactor of a Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s post is my business. Does your\ncontract permit you to engage in any enterprise not connected with that\nof the company?\u201d\n\u201cOn my own time, yes.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019d better re-read your contract.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ve already done that,\u201d sneered the other.\n\u201cWhen I came over here today,\u201d Mr. MacClaren\u2019s voice was deathly calm,\n\u201can audit of your books showed that you had robbed the company of over\ntwo thousand dollars. I suppose you had a perfect right to do that under\nthe terms of your contract?\u201d\n\u201cI object to that word \u2018robbed\u2019,\u201d rasped Frazer. \u201cI\u2019ll admit to a\nshortage but I\u2019ve covered it.\u201d\n\u201cYes, when I drew your attention to it.\u201d\n\u201cI paid back every cent of it in gold.\u201d\n\u201cWhere did you get the gold?\u201d sneered Mr. MacClaren. \u201cHow did you come\nin possession of it? There\u2019s another point that may need a little\nexplaining.\u201d\n\u201cYou know as well as I do that we take gold over the counter in exchange\nfor goods.\u201d\n\u201cCorrect. But whenever we do we keep a record of the transaction. In\nauditing your books, I found no such record.\u201d\n\u201cThe more you talk the farther you get away from the subject under\ndiscussion. You asked me what was wrong here and I told you. Your own\nnephew assaulted me without cause. Not only that, but he made a very\nserious charge against me, a charge without any foundation whatsoever.\u201d\n\u201cWhose word can I take for that?\u201d inquired Mr. MacClaren sarcastically\nand angrily.\n\u201cMine.\u201d\n\u201cBut I do not consider that your word is sufficient. You\u2019ve lied to me\nrepeatedly. You lied to me this afternoon. Your conduct generally is so\ndeceitful and dishonest that I think I was perfectly justified in asking\nfor your resignation.\u201d\n\u201cBy doing that you haven\u2019t hurt my feelings in the least. For some time\npast, I have been seriously thinking of quitting the service anyway. In\nfact, not long ago I completed arrangements to take charge of an\nindependent trading post shortly to be established at Caribou Lake.\u201d\nAt the mention of the name, Caribou Lake, Dick pricked up his ears. That\nwas the name of the place Corporal Rand was proceeding to.\n\u201cIt is your privilege to go anywhere you like,\u201d Dick heard Mr. MacClaren\nsay.\nSandy looked across at Frazer, a peculiar gleam in his eyes. At that\nmoment he presented a most unusual appearance. His bruised lips had\nswollen to twice their normal size. His cheeks were smeared with blood.\n\u201cIf you\u2019ll permit me to say so,\u201d he blurted forth, \u201cI\u2019d like to prophesy\nthat you\u2019ll not take charge at Caribou Lake either. I propose to swear\nout a warrant for your arrest.\u201d\nFrazer\u2019s face grew a shade whiter, but he recovered himself quickly.\n\u201cTwo can play at the same game,\u201d he reminded Sandy.\n\u201cMy charge is a more serious one.\u201d\n\u201cWhat is your charge?\u201d\n\u201cAttempted murder.\u201d\nThe man behind the counter laughed a mirthless laugh and made an ugly\ngrimace.\n\u201cYou may have a lot of trouble proving that.\u201d\n\u201cI expect to,\u201d said Sandy calmly, \u201cbut we\u2019ll get you in the end. Please\ndon\u2019t forget that. This matter isn\u2019t settled by a long way.\u201d\nMr. MacClaren rose hastily to his feet.\n\u201cEnough,\u201d he said. \u201cArgument will get us nowhere. Mr. Frazer will be\nleaving us tonight and after his departure we\u2019ll have plenty of time to\ndiscuss your case.\u201d\nThe factor darted from behind the counter and strode over to where Mr.\nMacClaren stood.\n\u201cI didn\u2019t say I was going tonight,\u201d he snarled, his face close to that\nof his superior.\n\u201cNo, but I\u2019m saying it. In fact, I insist upon it.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re exceeding your authority. You have no right to compel me to go.\u201d\n\u201cNevertheless, that is my intention.\u201d\n\u201cI refuse to go.\u201d\nComing from a mysterious place, a revolver leaped into MacClaren\u2019s\nhands. Dick was astounded. He had never suspected that Sandy\u2019s uncle\ncould draw a gun so quickly. Its cold nozzle sprang forward pressing\nagainst the front of Frazer\u2019s coat.\n\u201cWe won\u2019t argue the matter,\u201d he declared pleasantly. \u201cI\u2019ll accompany you\nto your room while you pack your things. After that I\u2019ll arrange for a\ntransport. Much as we may dislike to part with your company, Mr. Frazer,\nI think it is for the good of all concerned. Turn and march to your\nroom.\u201d\nFrazer complied hurriedly, his features swollen with rage. The two\nfigures passed through the inner doorway, their footsteps echoed down\nthe long corridor and, presently, in the trading room a deep silence\nreigned.\nMopping the blood from his face with a handkerchief which Dick\nmoistened, Sandy was soon more presentable.\n\u201cThat was a mighty wallop he gave me,\u201d half grinned the injured one.\n\u201cStill, I suppose that it was coming to me. Shouldn\u2019t have lost my\ntemper.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s probably just as well that things have turned out as they have,\u201d\nDick reassured him.\nThe next morning, after the departure of Donald Frazer, Harold Scott,\nFrazer\u2019s assistant, was placed in charge of the company\u2019s post at Half\nWay House. Having made the appointment, Sandy\u2019s uncle issued final\ninstructions and then prepared for an immediate departure for Fort Good\nFaith.\n\u201cI\u2019d just as soon you\u2019d stay here for a week or two,\u201d he told the boys.\n\u201cThere is a bare possibility that Frazer may return to cause trouble.\nMr. Scott may require your help.\u201d\nThis request on the part of Mr. MacClaren met with general approval, for\nnone of them believed that Frazer\u2019s real perfidy had yet been uncovered.\nSomething deeper and more mysterious was afoot. Frazer\u2019s attempt to rob\nthe company was not, they reasoned, his only crime. He was mixed up in\nother and more sinister affairs. Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum were,\nundoubtedly, part of the gang who were operating under Frazer\u2019s\ndirections.\n\u201cWhere do you suppose Frazer will go?\u201d Sandy inquired of Dick soon after\nMr. MacClaren\u2019s leave taking. \u201cDo you think that he is really\nestablishing a new trading post at Caribou Lake?\u201d\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t,\u201d Dick replied. \u201cI think that was a fabrication, pure and\nsimple. There wouldn\u2019t be enough money in it for him. That is a very\nsparsely inhabited district. Few Indians trap there during the winter\nand I doubt very much whether the fur trade would warrant the\nestablishment of a post.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I\u2019ve always heard. The country is rugged and hilly, better\nadapted to mining and prospecting than to trapping.\u201d\n\u201cExactly. Frazer has no intention of engaging in trade there. You could\ntell when he said it, that it was a lie. He has other projects in mind.\u201d\n\u201cAll I know is,\u201d put in Sandy, \u201cthat anyone that would associate with\ncharacters like Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum can\u2019t be very honest\nhimself.\u201d\n\u201cWhere do you suppose he got the gold to cover his shortage?\u201d Dick\nmused.\n\u201cProbably stole it. That\u2019s Uncle Walter\u2019s belief too. It\u2019s another case\nof robbing Peter to pay Paul.\u201d\nDick and Sandy were sitting on a bench outside the trading room while\nthis discussion was going on. It was a lovely morning and after the\nrigorous activities of their experience down river, it seemed good\nmerely to sit there basking in the sun. Some distance away, Toma\nsauntered about among the idling groups of Indians and half-breeds who\ncame here to trade. Presently, he came strolling up with that shrewd\ngleam in his eyes that denoted some new discovery. Dick looked up and\nsmiled as he approached.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s on your mind now, Toma?\u201d\nWithout preamble, the young Indian plunged into his subject.\n\u201cYou remember them two fellow, Indian boys, I tell you \u2019bout I see in\nthat room one night with Toby McCallum, Wolf Brennan an\u2019 Mr. Frazer?\u201d\nDick scratched his head. \u201cLet me see. You mean that time when you saw\nthe light burning in Frazer\u2019s room at two o\u2019clock in the morning?\u201d\n\u201cYes. Them two fellow here.\u201d\n\u201cHere at the post?\u201d inquired Sandy, straightening up in his seat.\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cWhat are they doing?\u201d\n\u201cThey just hang \u2019round. Do nothing like us. I find out they have tepee\ndown near the river.\u201d\n\u201cWell, what about it?\u201d demanded Dick. \u201cThey have a right to stay there\nif they want to, haven\u2019t they?\u201d\nToma grinned. \u201cThat just the trouble. Why they want to stay here now\nthat their friend, Mr. Frazer, go \u2019way? They very good friend Mr.\nFrazer, you think they like go \u2019long too.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps they\u2019ll follow later,\u201d surmised Sandy.\n\u201cMebbe so. But I think I know why they stay here.\u201d\n\u201cWhy?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201c\u2019Cause Mr. Frazer tell \u2019em to. Mr. Frazer talk with them two fellow\njust before he go. I see him do that. I see they very careful nobody\nhear what they say too.\u201d\nDick felt a momentary quickening of his pulses.\n\u201cGood boy! No one could ever accuse you of being slow-witted. I know\nwhat\u2019s on your mind now. You believe that these two Indians have been\nleft behind purposely\u2014that they\u2019ll be up to some mischief before long.\u201d\n\u201cYes, Dick, them very bad fellow. Other Indians say that. Like drink\nalla time an\u2019 get in trouble.\u201d\nToma scowled and took a seat on the bench beside Sandy. For one full\nmoment no one spoke.\n\u201cThere are two reasons why Frazer instructed those two Indians to remain\nhere. Either they intend to cause Scott all the trouble they can or they\nare waiting for the arrival of Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum,\u201d said\nDick.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll keep an eye on them,\u201d stated Sandy darkly. \u201cWe might possibly\nlearn something to our advantage.\u201d\nToma turned his head. \u201cThere they are now,\u201d he said.\nTwo Indians came down the path toward the trading room, walking one\nbehind the other. Both were sinister looking men, Dick thought. He\nwondered if they were intending to enter the store to make some purchase\nor whether the object of their visit was to appraise himself and his two\nchums. He bent his head toward Sandy and whispered in a low voice.\n\u201cSlip into the trading room and see what they do.\u201d\nThe young Scotchman rose, stretched himself languidly, imitated a yawn\nand lounged through the open door. The two Indians followed him in. Dick\nwinked at Toma, produced his hunting knife and began whittling on a\nstick. For five minutes they waited. At the end of that time the Indians\ncame out, one of them carrying a package under his arm. Just outside the\ndoor, looking about them for a moment idly, they took a seat on the\nbench near Dick and Toma.\nThe action was wholly unexpected and Dick was taken unawares. Were the\ntwo Indians giving them a secret appraisal? Was there an ulterior motive\nbehind this seemingly trivial act? To add to his surprise, one of the\ntwo men addressed him.\n\u201cYou come up the river yesterday?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Dick.\n\u201cRiver more high than last year,\u201d said the Indian conversationally.\n\u201cI believe it is,\u201d Dick nodded.\n\u201cYou come back prospecting trip, eh?\u201d\nDick shook his head. \u201cNo, we weren\u2019t prospecting.\u201d\n\u201cHow you like \u2019em new factor?\u201d came the next question.\n\u201cMr. Scott is a very nice fellow,\u201d replied Dick, half smiling to\nhimself.\n\u201cMr. Frazer fine fellow too.\u201d\nDick looked startled. \u201cI\u2019m\u2014I\u2019m glad you like him,\u201d he stammered.\n\u201cYou no like him?\u201d persisted the Indian.\n\u201cWhy do you ask me that question?\u201d Dick wanted to know.\nThe Indian did not answer.\n\u201cYou call \u2019em your name Dick Kent?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nThe Indian rolled a cigarette and lighted it, inhaling the smoke deeply,\npuffing with satisfaction. Sandy came out and, perceiving his seat\noccupied, stood leaning lazily against the door frame. An interval of\nsilence, then Dick\u2019s questioner fumbled in his pocket and drew forth a\nslip of white paper which he handed over with a slight bow.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cThat am letter for you. By an\u2019 by you read.\u201d\nThe Indian rose to his feet beckoning to his companion.\n\u201cBy an\u2019 by you read,\u201d he repeated.\n\u201cWho is this letter from?\u201d\n\u201cI not know that.\u201d A slight frown settled between the native\u2019s eyes.\n\u201cBut who gave it to you?\u201d persisted Dick.\n\u201cFellow come up river this morning gave it to me. Tell \u2019em me give it to\nyou. Tell \u2019em me you read it by an\u2019 by.\n\u201cBut don\u2019t you know this man\u2019s name?\u201d\n\u201cFellow name\u2014\u201d the Indian hesitated, \u201cfellow say his name John Clark. By\nan\u2019 by you read letter.\u201d\nThe speaker smiled a sort of twisted smile, took his companion by the\narm and hurriedly made his departure.\nPuzzled, Dick looked down at the letter in his hands. Then he glanced up\nat Sandy. He gulped. Who was John Clark? He had never heard of him.\n\u201cFor goodness sake, don\u2019t keep me in suspense!\u201d It was Sandy\u2019s voice.\n\u201cOpen the letter.\u201d\nDick complied hurriedly. Sandy left his position by the door and slumped\nin the seat beside him. A bit of a white paper fluttered in Dick\u2019s\nhands. He read in a choked voice:\n  \u201cMr. Dick Kent:\n  \u201cIf everything goes well, I\u2019ll be seein\u2019 you a few days after you\n  receive this letter. Mebbe you can guess why. Mebbe it won\u2019t be very\n  good for your health if you stop very long at Half Way House.\n\u201cSo that\u2019s it!\u201d Sandy exclaimed excitedly.\n\u201cA threat,\u201d said Dick.\n\u201cWolf come an\u2019 shoot you, Dick,\u201d grinned Toma. \u201cThat fellow mad all\nover. While you got chance, you better run away.\u201d\nDick laughed. Yet, in spite of his laughter, he did not feel very happy\nat that moment. Wolf Brennan was a desperate character. The Wolf felt\nthat he had a grievance and would try to settle his score.\nDick did not sleep well that night. Though he was not willing to admit\nit even to himself, Wolf Brennan\u2019s threatening letter had upset him. He\nlay for a long time on his bed in the loft over the trading room, his\nmind active and restless. Close at hand, he could hear the even\nbreathing of Sandy and Toma and, through the open window, there was\nborne to him the soughing of the wind in the pines. It was a clear June\nnight of half darkness and only partially stilled woodland noises. Birds\nstill peeped sleepily in the trees, the little denizens of the forest\nspaces still moved about as they had during the brighter hours of day.\nLying there, Dick was aware of a myriad night sounds. The staunch old\nlog building, built nearly eighty years before by members of the\nHonorable, the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company, creaked and groaned in the brisk\nnight wind. Something was flapping up there on the roof. Was that a bird\nthat made that peculiar pecking noise just under the eaves? Trying\ndesperately to sleep, Dick succeeded only in becoming more and more\nawake with each passing moment.\nIn despair, finally, he swung his legs over his bunk, reached for his\nclothes and commenced to dress.\n\u201cI\u2019ll go outside,\u201d he thought, \u201cand walk around for a while. The\nexercise may make me sleepy.\u201d\nHe slipped quietly down the stairway and thence outside. Walking\nbriskly, he turned his steps toward the river and, upon reaching the\nboat landing, sat down with his back against one of the pilings,\nwatching the water eddying along under him.\nAlong the shore for nearly a quarter of a mile, both up and down stream,\nwere the brown, skin tepees of the post population. About them the\nstillness of night had descended. From the inverted, cone-like top of\none of them, smoke issued. Dick sat and watched it speculatively. The\nmembers of that household were up early. Probably someone sick. Through\nthe translucent walls he could see the faint reflection of a fire\nwithin.\nMust be someone sick, he mused. An Indian child perhaps. A papoose\nsuffering an attack of colic. Once he thought he heard a child\u2019s\nplaintive whimper.\nThe flap was drawn aside and a figure emerged. Behind the first figure\ncame a second. Dick drew in his breath sharply, slid along the rough\nplanking and concealed himself behind a flat-bottomed boat which had\nbeen drawn up on the pier for caulking. Lying flat on his stomach, he\nraised his head and peeped over the top.\nThe Indians, who had brought the letter from Wolf Brennan, were making\ntheir way along the shore. They walked after the manner of men who knew\nwhere they were going. Reaching a point just opposite the boat landing,\nthey swung sharply to the left, taking the path that led up along the\nwarehouse to the trading post.\nDick\u2019s heart thumped excitedly as he rose soon afterward and commenced\nfollowing them. He went leisurely. He endeavored to keep himself\nconcealed as much as possible by walking, not along the path, but\nthrough the bushes that grew on either side of it. For two hundred yards\nhe stalked his quarry, finally bringing up in a clump of willows not\nsixty feet from the trading room. Lying concealed, his eyes were glued\nupon the forms of the two prowlers, who had strolled boldly up to the\nbuilding itself.\nDick\u2019s mind raced. What was the intention of those two midnight raiders?\nWhat were they up to? Had they designs upon the life of Mr. Scott, the\nnew incumbent? Was this to be the first in a long series of reprisals\naimed at Mr. MacClaren and the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company by a disgruntled\nformer factor and his insidious crew?\nNow that it was too late, Dick regretted his folly in coming out of\ndoors without first taking the precaution to arm himself. In case the\ntwo men broke into the trading room\u2014and that seemed to be their\nintention\u2014what could he do to prevent further depredations? Two against\none, and they were armed. He was no match for either one of them\nphysically. To make matters still worse, he recalled that he had left\nthe door, leading to the loft, unlocked. If the Indians succeeded in\nforcing the door of the trading room, they would have easy access to\nFactor Scott\u2019s room, which adjoined the hall at the top of the stairs\njust across from the space that the boys occupied.\nAlmost desperate because of his helplessness, it suddenly occurred to\nDick that probably the best way to prevent the Indians\u2019 entrance would\nbe to call out sharply, attracting attention to himself. Such a move\nmight cost him his life, but on the other hand, it might arouse the\nsleeping occupants of the post. In the very act of inflating his lungs\nanother plan popped into his head.\nWhy not, he asked himself, follow the two Indians inside? In a flash,\nthere had come to him a mental picture of the revolver Donald Frazer had\nreturned to the shelf behind the counter yesterday afternoon. If the\nIndians went up the stairway, he would rush in, seize the weapon and\ncould probably reach the factor\u2019s room in time.\nHis body bent forward almost at right angles, he slipped out from behind\nhis place of concealment and very cautiously commenced working his way\nforward. He was within thirty paces of the trading room door by the time\nthe two Indians had forced the lock and had gained admittance. When the\ndoor closed behind them, he sprinted lightly across, not to the door but\nto the window. The interior space was dark and shadowy, yet he could\nmake out the two forms hesitating near the counter. To their left was\nthe door leading to the loft. Twenty feet to their right was another\ndoor leading to the cellar. To Dick\u2019s great astonishment, instead of\nmaking their way to the stairway, they turned in the opposite direction,\ntip-toed across the floor, flung open the door and descended below.\nNo unexpected move on their part could have surprised him more. What did\nthey expect to find in the basement? Dick had been there often and knew\nwhat it contained\u2014packing cases, boxes, rolls of wrapping paper, yes,\nand\u2014suddenly Dick grinned. He thought he knew now. All his panic over\nnothing. Petty thievery, not murder, was the motive behind the Indians\u2019\nforced entrance. Liquor was what they had come for. The Indians\u2019 love of\nfire-water had led them here.\nRealizing this, his tension relaxed. He decided not to go in to get the\nrevolver after all. He\u2019d wait until they reappeared\u2014that would be safer.\nHe\u2019d keep hid. If he opened the door and stepped upon the trading room\nfloor, no matter how quiet his footsteps, they would be sure to be\nheard. The loss of the liquor would be little compared to the risk he\ntook. He\u2019d have the goods on them anyway. Tomorrow the factor could\nswear out a warrant and place them under arrest.\n\u201cNo,\u201d decided Dick, \u201cI\u2019ll wait and bide my time.\u201d\nHe had not long to wait. The cellar door opened and the two prowlers\nappeared, carrying two burlap sacks, bulging with what looked like\nbottles, and so heavy that the two stalwart natives bent under their\nload.\nDick slipped around the corner of the trading room, flattened himself\nagainst the side of the building and waited tensely. He heard the outer\ndoor creak lightly. He heard light footsteps pattering across the ground\noutside, gradually growing less distinct as they paced off the distance\nto the warehouse. As Dick peeped out around his corner, they passed the\nwarehouse and disappeared from view.\nDick hurried inside, bounded up the stairway and knocked loudly at the\nfactor\u2019s door.\n\u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d inquired a sleepy voice.\n\u201cIt is I\u2014Dick Kent, Mr. Scott. I\u2019d like to see you.\u201d\nThe creaking of a bed, the sound of footsteps moving across the floor,\nand the door swung open.\n\u201cHello, Dick. Come on in. What\u2019s the trouble?\u201d\n\u201cMr. Scott,\u201d announced Dick breathlessly, following the other inside,\n\u201cI\u2019ve just been a witness to a bit of thieving. Two Indians broke into\nthe trading room and made their way to the cellar where they stole\nsomething. I thing it was liquor. They came out carrying burlap sacks\nfull of what looked like bottles.\u201d\n\u201cDo you think you could identify the two thieves?\u201d asked Mr. Scott,\nmotioning Dick to a chair.\n\u201cYes, I can. I can even take you to their tepee. Rough looking\ncharacters. No doubt, you know them well.\u201d\n\u201cPierre and Henri Mekewai,\u201d guessed the factor. \u201cThey\u2019re about the\nroughest looking pair that hang around the post.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know their names,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cbut as I told you, I can\nidentify them. I saw them come out of the tepee and followed them up\nhere.\u201d\nThe new factor\u2019s eyes widened and he regarded Dick in some surprise.\n\u201cYou saw them come out of their tepee?\u201d he blurted. \u201cWhat were you doing\noutside at this time of the night?\u201d\n\u201cOh, I assure you, I wasn\u2019t up to any mischief,\u201d smiled Dick. \u201cRestless\nand couldn\u2019t sleep. Thought that if I went out and walked around a while\nI could come back and get a little rest.\u201d\nThe factor proceeded to dress.\n\u201cIf you\u2019ll wait just a minute,\u201d he instructed, \u201cwe\u2019ll go down and\ninvestigate. I shouldn\u2019t wonder but what you are right about the liquor.\nThat\u2019s an Indian\u2019s old trick. It\u2019s a frequent occurrence. Don\u2019t know why\nwe keep the stuff. It\u2019s only a temptation to many a poor devil who seems\npowerless to resist it.\u201d\nMr. Scott continued to chat amiably while he pulled on his clothes. A\nfew minutes later, he led the way to the basement. Reaching the bottom\nof the flight of stairs, he struck a match and lighted a candle that\nstood on a shelf. Dick following close behind him, he walked straight\nover to a pile of cases in the far corner, stooped down and began\nexamining them carefully.\n\u201cI happen to know just how much there is here, so it won\u2019t take long to\ndetermine the extent of our loss,\u201d Mr. Scott pointed out.\nDick held the candle while the factor took inventory. At the end of five\nminutes he straightened up, looked at Dick searchingly, then bent down\nand made a second examination.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cCan\u2019t understand it. It seems to be all here.\u201d\n\u201cWhat! All of it?\u201d\n\u201cYes, all of it. Every case and every bottle. Nothing missing.\u201d\nDick whistled in surprise.\n\u201cIf that\u2019s true, they\u2019ve taken something else.\u201d\n\u201cBut there\u2019s nothing else down here in this cellar that anyone could\npossibly want. I mean, nothing of value.\u201d\n\u201cAre you sure?\u201d gasped Dick.\n\u201cAbsolutely.\u201d\n\u201cBut I tell you, they came up the cellarway carrying two burlap\nsacks\u2014sacks full of something. I saw them with my own eyes, Mr. Scott. I\nwasn\u2019t dreaming. I tell you they took something.\u201d\nThe factor scratched his head, continuing to stare at Dick, an\nexpression of wonderment in his eyes.\n\u201cThat beats me. Don\u2019t know what to make of it.\u201d\nWondering and still perplexed, they ascended to the upper floor.\nFactor Scott decided that he would not prefer charges against the two\nIndians until he had definitely discovered what they had stolen. But in\nthe days that passed, to his increasing astonishment, he could find\nnothing missing. What had the two prowlers taken from the cellar? It was\na question that was threshed over, pro and con, for many an hour. In\nSandy\u2019s opinion, the solution to the mystery was to be found in only one\nway: namely, that Factor Scott had taken a hurried inventory a few days\nprevious to the robbery and that there were more cases of liquor in the\ncellar than he had on record.\n\u201cHe can say what he likes,\u201d insisted Sandy. \u201cThere is the real solution.\nThose two Indians wanted fire-water and they broke in and got it.\u201d\nHowever, when Dick reported this theory to the factor, Mr. Scott had a\ngood laugh over it.\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t liquor,\u201d he smiled, \u201cyou can tell Sandy for me. Even if I did\nmake a mistake in my reckoning, I insist that it wasn\u2019t bottles of rum\nthat the Indians stole.\u201d\n\u201cHow do you know that?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cIt\u2019s all very simple. If the Indians had stolen liquor they would have\nproceeded to get gloriously drunk. They wouldn\u2019t have been able to\nresist the temptation. I know Indian nature well enough for that.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re quite right.\u201d laughed Dick. \u201cWe\u2019ll eliminate such an hypothesis.\nNow what I\u2019d like to know is, what did they steal out of that cellar?\u201d\nThe factor bit his lips. \u201cI confess that I don\u2019t know. Every day for the\npast three weeks I\u2019ve gone to the cellar and, if there was anything\nthere beside those empty packing boxes, the cases of liquor and wrapping\npaper, I\u2019d have seen it. If it wasn\u2019t for the evidence of the broken\nlock on the trading room door, I\u2019d be very much inclined to believe that\nyou have been the victim of a nightmare or an hallucination.\u201d\n\u201cAnd I wouldn\u2019t blame you in the least,\u201d stated Dick smiling. \u201cHowever,\nas you say, that broken lock is pretty conclusive evidence of a forced\nentrance. Of course, you have only my word as to the rest of the story.\u201d\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t doubt you, Dick,\u201d the factor patted his shoulder. \u201cI know\nyou\u2019re sincere and truthful about this. I really believe that you saw\nthe two Indians come up from the cellar carrying those two loaded burlap\nsacks. By the way, Dick, if those had contained bottles you\u2019d have heard\nthe rattle.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true. No sound came from the sacks.\u201d Dick paused and stroked his\nchin reflectively. \u201cPshaw! We don\u2019t seem to be getting anywhere. Mr.\nScott, will you give me permission to go down into that cellar and\nexamine it carefully? I just want to satisfy myself that we haven\u2019t\noverlooked anything.\u201d\n\u201cCertainly. I\u2019d be glad to have you. I\u2019ve been down there myself a\nnumber of times since the robbery. I\u2019ve gone over every foot of space\nand found nothing at all suspicious; found nothing that might give me a\nclue to what the Mekewai brothers stole. But though I searched\ncarefully, I might have overlooked something. Two pairs of eyes are\nbetter than one. Go down and look for yourself.\u201d\nDick went down. He lighted the candle that was always to be found on the\nshelf near the bottom of the stairway, and explored every inch of space\nin that dark interior. The floor of the cellar was constructed of heavy\nplanks nailed to logs which had been sunk into the earth. In a country\nwhere cement was almost unknown, it was as good a flooring for a\nbasement as could be found anywhere. Starting at one end of the cellar,\nDick examined every plank in the floor. The planks had been in the\ncellar for a long time and they made a clattering noise as he walked\nover them. This suggested an idea. He wondered if any of the planks were\nloose. He went up to the trading room, procured a heavy chisel and\nreturned and tried to pry up the planks.\nThe eighth plank over from the bottom of the stairway, to his great\nglee, he discovered was loose. It came up when he exerted a slight\npressure upon it. Grasping the plank next to it, he found that that also\nwas loose. Pulling up this second board he received a rude shock. The\nedge of a gaping hole, freshly dug in the earth, was visible there under\nthe planking. Removing another section of the floor, he completely\nuncovered it. Reaching out for the candle, he explored the shallow pit\nbelow.\nThe hole was about three feet wide, six feet long and three feet deep.\nThe dirt taken from it had been thrown under the planking between the\nlogs used as support for the floor. The pit was absolutely empty.\nDick\u2019s first impulse was to return to the trading room and report his\ndiscovery to Mr. Scott. But on second thought he decided not to do this.\nHe would work on the case alone, not even saying anything to Sandy and\nToma. He would find out what the Indians had taken out of that pit. When\nhe did, something told him that he would have a clear case against\nFrazer.\nHe replaced the flooring hurriedly, scraped dust over the loose planks\nand ascended to the room above. Busy waiting on a number of customers,\nthe factor did not accost him. Dick proceeded straight outside and sat\ndown on the long bench to think it over.\nIn a few minutes he came to a decision. He got quickly to his feet,\nre-entered the trading room and made his way upstairs to the loft. From\namong his personal belongings he picked up a small black automatic,\nthrust it in his hip pocket and again made his way outside. The first\nperson he saw was Toma.\n\u201cWhere you go, Dick, in so big hurry?\u201d the young Indian asked.\nPreviously, when he had made his plans, Dick had decided to play a lone\nhand, but now it would be a little awkward getting rid of Toma. Well it\nwould do no harm in taking him along. Toma was close-mouthed and\ndependable. He might prove to be of valuable assistance in an emergency.\n\u201cI\u2019m going down to see those two Indians,\u201d Dick informed him. \u201cCare to\ncome along?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d grunted his chum.\nDick took him by the arm. \u201cCome along then,\u201d he said.\nTogether they hurried along the foot trail in the direction of the\nriver. Passing the warehouse, a voice called out lustily.\n\u201cHey there!\u201d\nIt was Sandy. Dick and Toma paused while the third member of the trio\nshambled up.\n\u201cWhere are you fellows going?\u201d Sandy inquired suspiciously.\nDick gave up. He could see how impossible it was now to keep anything\nfrom two friends like these. Then and there he confessed.\nBoth Sandy and Toma were astonished at the outcome of Dick\u2019s\ninvestigations.\n\u201cA hole under the floor of the cellar!\u201d Sandy exclaimed. \u201cGood Heavens,\nwhat do you suppose Factor Frazer has been concealing there?\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t know but I have a hunch,\u201d Dick answered, proud of the\nimpression he had made.\n\u201cTell us,\u201d pleaded Sandy.\n\u201cI haven\u2019t time just now. I\u2019m anxious to get over to the Mekewai\nbrothers\u2019 tepee to have a look around. There\u2019s a remote chance that\nwe\u2019ll find those two sacks of loot.\u201d\nSandy balked. \u201cIf we\u2019re going over there,\u201d he said, \u201cI want a gun.\u201d\n\u201cI have one,\u201d Dick patted his hip pocket. \u201cAnyway I don\u2019t think they\u2019ll\nhave the courage to attack us in broad daylight. Hurry if you\u2019re\ncoming.\u201d\nThey followed Dick down the path to the river, then along the shore to\nthe Mekewai tepee. His two chums crowding close behind him, Dick knocked\ngently against the closed flap.\n\u201cHello! Hello!\u201d he called.\nThey heard subdued voices within. The flap was drawn aside and the\nMekewai boys stooped down and peered at them through the entrance.\n\u201cWhat you want?\u201d one of them asked gruffly.\n\u201cCame over to see if you could lend us a canoe so that we can go\nfishing,\u201d lied Dick. \u201cOur own is damaged and we are having it repaired.\u201d\n\u201cNo have canoe,\u201d growled one of the Mekewai boys.\nBut Dick was not put off so easily.\n\u201cDo you know anyone that has?\u201d\n\u201cCome in,\u201d one of the Indians invited, \u201can\u2019 I try think where mebbe you\nfind one.\u201d\nDick pressed a coin in the hand of each of the two brothers.\n\u201cWish you could,\u201d he said, stepping inside.\nOne glance told Dick what he wanted to know. There were no sacks here.\nNothing at all of an incriminating nature. Dick was tremendously\ndisappointed and he could not resist turning his head and looking at\nSandy.\nSandy was amused. There was a twinkle in his eyes and the beginning of a\nsmile puckering the corners of his mouth.\n\u201cI think mebbe I know fellow that has canoe,\u201d one of the Indians spoke\nup. \u201cHow much you like pay?\u201d\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t want to buy one,\u201d stated Sandy, helping Dick out. \u201cWe wanted\nto borrow one.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t know anybody like \u2019em borrow you canoe.\u201d\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said Dick, backing toward the door. \u201cIn that case we\u2019ll\nhave to wait until our own is repaired.\u201d\nThe three boys went out, Dick scowling, Sandy and Toma amused over the\ninterview.\n\u201cNever mind, old chap,\u201d consoled Sandy, \u201cyou may have better luck next\ntime. By the way, what do you think they\u2019ve done with the stuff?\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry, they\u2019ve either hidden it somewhere or have sent it over to\nFrazer. I hardly expected to find it there. There was about one chance\nin a thousand.\u201d\n\u201cNow that we\u2019re on the subject,\u201d coaxed Sandy, \u201cPerhaps you\u2019ll be\nwilling to tell me what your hunch is. What did those two Indians bring\nup out of that pit?\u201d\n\u201cGold,\u201d came the answer unhesitatingly.\nSandy looked dubious. \u201cWhat makes you think it was gold?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you why. If you recall the conversation between your Uncle\nWalter and Frazer the day we had the trouble in the trading room, you\nwill remember that Frazer said that he had paid the shortage in gold.\nThat\u2019s the only reason I have for suspecting that it was gold that the\nIndians took out of the cellar. If Frazer had two thousand dollars worth\nof gold, sufficient to cover his shortage, it is not unlikely that he\nhad more of it stored away somewhere. Frazer did not explain\nsatisfactorily to your uncle how he had obtained that gold. The\ninference is that he stole it.\u201d\n\u201cSeems reasonable,\u201d said Sandy, \u201cand I wonder from whom.\u201d\nThe next morning, Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum arrived at Half Way\nHouse. Sandy, who was walking along the river at the time, witnessed\ntheir approach, a grim and dour pair aboard a light raft, which they\npoled and shoved against the tugging current.\nSandy did not wait for them to put in at the boat landing. Suddenly\nfearful, he hastened up to the post to spread the alarm. Dick and Toma\nreceived the news calmly. The former went immediately to his room,\nbuckled on his revolver and returned to the trading room to announce to\nhis two chums that he proposed to go down to the river forthwith to meet\nthe new arrivals.\n\u201cDick,\u201d exploded Sandy, \u201cyou\u2019re crazy! Have you forgotten the letter you\nreceived?\u201d\nDick shook his head. \u201cNo, I haven\u2019t. That\u2019s the very reason I\u2019m going\ndown there. If they think they can intimidate me, they\u2019re badly\nmistaken. If I show the white feather they\u2019ll make life miserable for\nme\u2014not only for me but for all of us. The best thing to do is put on a\nbold front and go down there and show them that I\u2019m not afraid.\u201d\n\u201cCracky!\u201d admired Sandy. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t have the nerve to do that. They may\npull a gun and shoot you.\u201d\n\u201cYou show \u2019em pretty good sense, Dick,\u201d declared Toma, indicating by his\nexpression how proud he was of his chum. \u201cWhen them fellow see you down\nat the boat landing they won\u2019t know what to think.\u201d\n\u201cCome on,\u201d said Dick, \u201clet\u2019s hurry.\u201d\nThey ran all the way down to the river. They arrived there just as the\ntwo outlaws drove their raft up to the landing and made fast. Pushing\nhis way through the crowd, Dick was one of the first to welcome them.\n\u201cHello, Wolf. Hello, Toby. I see you\u2019ve got back. I received your\nletter, Brennan.\u201d\nThe outlaws were nonplused, taken aback by the unexpectedness of Dick\u2019s\ngreeting. Both were seething with fury. In the very act of reaching for\nhis gun, Wolf paused and bethought himself of the mounted police. For\nall he knew, this might be a trap for them to fall into.\n\u201cYes, we got back,\u201d growled Wolf, his face red with humiliation. \u201cWe got\nback an\u2019 we\u2019re going to stay here fer awhile. We got a lot of business\nto attend to here at Half Way House,\u201d he hinted darkly. \u201cJust as soon as\nwe\u2019ve seen Factor Frazer, we got a little matter we want to talk over\nwith yuh.\u201d\nLooking around and perceiving no mounted policemen in the crowd, Wolf\nraised his voice.\n\u201cA little matter we want to discuss with yuh an\u2019 your friends.\u201d\n\u201cFactor Frazer isn\u2019t here any more,\u201d Dick told them.\nBoth the men gave a quick start, staring at him incredulously.\n\u201cYou\u2019re lyin\u2019,\u201d croaked McCallum.\n\u201cGo and see for yourself,\u201d Dick spoke calmly. \u201cMr. Scott is in charge\nhere now.\u201d\nThe news had a very unusual effect upon the two newcomers. McCallum went\nsuddenly pale and the frown upon Wolf Brennan\u2019s forehead blackened like\na thunder cloud. Yet is was apparent that they only half believed Dick\u2019s\nstatement. Seizing his rifle and a small bag of luggage, Wolf motioned\nto his companion and they lumbered up the path toward the trading post.\nThe boys followed them all the way, slipping through the door just as\nBrennan demanded:\n\u201cWhere\u2019s Donald Frazer?\u201d\nScott turned quickly at the sound of the gruff voice.\n\u201cMr. Frazer isn\u2019t here any more.\u201d\n\u201cWhere is he?\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s a question, Mr. Brennan, that I can\u2019t answer. I do not happen to\nbe in Mr. Frazer\u2019s confidence. The former factor went away very suddenly\nand left no forwarding address. Otherwise I might suggest that you could\nwrite to him.\u201d\nThe sarcasm was lost upon Brennan.\n\u201cI believe yuh know an\u2019 don\u2019t want to tell us,\u201d McCallum growled.\nWolf Brennan marched to the counter and made a few purchases. When this\nhad been done, he turned, held a whispered consultation with his\npartner, then again approached the factor.\n\u201cGot any liquor?\u201d he snarled.\n\u201cA little,\u201d answered Scott, not wishing to sell it to him.\nBrennan\u2019s ugly face lighted up and he started for the cellar door.\n\u201cI know where yuh keep it,\u201d he said, \u201can\u2019 I\u2019ll go down an\u2019 fetch a\ncouple of bottles. That\u2019s the way I always done when Frazer was here.\u201d\nFactor Scott came around the corner of the counter, his cheeks flushed\nwith anger.\n\u201cMr. Frazer isn\u2019t here now,\u201d he informed Brennan hotly. \u201cIf you want two\nbottles of liquor, I\u2019ll get it myself. And while we\u2019re on the subject,\nI\u2019ll tell you this much: I don\u2019t care about selling the stuff to people\nlike you and McCallum. Also I want to warn you, if you get drunk and\ncause any trouble around the post, I\u2019ll put you on the list and you\u2019ll\nnever get another drop from me as long as I remain in charge here.\u201d\nThe two partners exchanged significant glances and Wolf\u2019s face fell.\nObserving this, Scott believed that it was his threat that caused their\nsudden dejection. But not Dick. He could see through the wily plan of\nthe big prospector. Brennan wanted to go down to the cellar alone to\nfetch his two bottles because, by doing so, he would have an opportunity\nto look into the pit and see if the gold was still there.\nWhen Scott returned with the bottles, McCallum paid for them and the two\npartners stalked out. Watching their exit, the factor turned grimly to\nDick.\n\u201cWhen did they get here?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cJust a short time ago. We met them at the boat landing when they\narrived.\u201d\nFactor Scott scowled. \u201cI hope they decide to leave again before they\ncommence to drink that rum. They\u2019re vicious. Frazer seemed to get along\nwith them well enough but it was because he let them have their own way.\nAll winter they\u2019ve been a regular pest around here, have instigated more\nfights and have caused more trouble than any other twenty men in this\nentire region. But now that I\u2019m in charge,\u201d Factor Scott\u2019s lips\ntightened, \u201cthey don\u2019t want to try their bullying methods with me.\u201d\nSoon afterward the boys went outside and sat down on the bench to\ndiscuss the new development.\n\u201cBrennan didn\u2019t fool me when he suggested going to the cellar,\u201d Sandy\nstated.\n\u201cYou\u2019re thinking about the pit, aren\u2019t you?\u201d smiled Dick. \u201cThe same\nthought came into my mind. Wolf wanted to find out whether or not Frazer\nhad taken the gold.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you suppose they\u2019ll do next?\u201d mused Sandy.\nToma rose nervously and paced back and forth in front of the store\nbuilding. Abruptly he stopped in front of Dick, frowning.\n\u201cThem fellow go to find Pierre and Henri Mekewai,\u201d he said. \u201cWhy not we\ngo \u2019long too? Mebbe we find out where they hide the gold.\u201d\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d Sandy bounced to his feet. \u201cListen, Dick. I have an\ninspiration. Let\u2019s cut straight through the woods over to the river and\nhide in the brush behind the Mekewai tepee. If you recall, their tepee\nis set at the bottom of a slope just below a heavy thicket of alders.\nThe alder bushes are only about twenty feet from the tepee. If they\ncommence drinking, they\u2019ll talk loud enough so that we\u2019ll be able to\ncatch a good deal of what they say.\u201d\nDick was so pleased with this plan that he clapped Sandy on the back,\nsuggesting that they start at once. Less than a quarter of an hour\nlater, they crawled on hands and knees into the thicket at the place\ndesignated. It was very quiet in the tepee. The only sound they heard\nwas the murmur of the river.\n\u201cThey haven\u2019t arrived here yet,\u201d Dick whispered. \u201cBut I\u2019m pretty sure\nthey\u2019ll be along in a few minutes. Just now, I imagine, they\u2019re making\ninquiries down at the boat landing. You see, they don\u2019t know yet whether\nthe Mekewai boys are here or whether they have gone with Frazer.\u201d\nToma parted the bushes and looked out.\n\u201cI see somebody come,\u201d he announced excitedly.\nDick and Sandy rose to their knees and they, too, peered down along the\nshore.\n\u201cBrennan and McCallum all right,\u201d Sandy whispered breathlessly.\nDick nudged his chum, \u201cCareful!\u201d he warned. \u201cLet\u2019s all sit down and be\nvery quiet.\u201d\nSoon afterward they could hear voices in the tepee, the loud domineering\nvoice of Wolf Brennan, the rasping snarl of Toby McCallum and the\nbroken, guttural tones of one of the Mekewai boys. Only occasionally,\nhowever, did they catch a word they could understand.\nBut true to Sandy\u2019s prediction, the voices grew more noisy. They had\nprobably opened one of the bottles. Heavy oaths punctured the talk now.\nAn argument of some sort seemed to be in progress.\n\u201cIt\u2019s a lie!\u201d suddenly screamed McCallum.\nThen the boys heard quite distinctly Wolf thunder out: \u201cWhere\u2019s Henri?\u201d\nSandy leaned close to Dick whispering in his ear: \u201cHear that? Only one\nof the Mekewai boys is inside there. Wonder where the other is?\u201d\nAt that moment Dick felt a thrill of excitement go through him. Brennan\nwas speaking and he had heard another sentence.\n\u201cIf yuh didn\u2019t bury it in a safe place, yuh\u2019ll have to answer for it.\u201d\n\u201cPlenty safe,\u201d they heard Pierre Mekewai answer.\nA roar of ribald laughter was followed by splintering glass. Evidently,\nthey had already finished one bottle and had broken it. The voices\nsubsided a little hereafter and the three boys were straining their ears\nin an effort to make out what was being said, when a soft, cat-like\ntread sounded behind them.\nDick whirled, his hand darting to the revolver at his side. Sandy gave a\nlow exclamation of dismay. Toma grunted. Approaching them was the other\nMekewai brother. He carried a rifle. His pock-scarred face was twisted\nin a hideous leer.\n\u201cWhat you fellow do here?\u201d he demanded.\n\u201cHaven\u2019t we a right to sit here if we want to?\u201d trembled Dick.\n\u201cYou go \u2019way pretty quick,\u201d threatened the Indian.\nThe boys rose to their feet, feeling like culprits caught in the act of\ncommitting some petty offense.\n\u201cYou go quick,\u201d snarled the Indian. \u201cIf you come back again, next time I\nshoot.\u201d\nRetiring to his room that night, Dick sat down in a chair near the open\nwindow and stooped to unlace his moccasins. The loft was smothering.\nSunshine still streamed into the room. All day a furnace glare had lain\nover the river valley. Outside the grass was dry and the leaves of the\nwhite poplar curled from the intense heat. One of the longest days in\nthe year, it would be three hours yet before the crimson ball of the\nsun, rolling through the northwestern sky, would sink to the line of the\nhorizon. Ten feet away, sitting on the edge of his bunk, Sandy puffed\nand wiped his perspiring brow.\n\u201cWhew! Let\u2019s postpone going to sleep for a while and slip down to the\nriver and have a dip. It will be the third time we\u2019ve been in today, but\nwe have to try to keep cool somehow. Cracky! But isn\u2019t this loft hot.\u201d\nIn the act of pulling off one moccasin, Dick paused, considering Sandy\u2019s\nsuggestion. He rose from the chair and stood looking out of the window.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet that\u2019s where Toma is now,\u201d he guessed.\nJust then he saw a movement in the brush, caught the bright gleam of sun\nupon steel, and stepped back just as the screen on the window shivered\nfrom the lightning stroke of a bullet. Something that felt like a breath\nof hot wind scorched his side. Two holes appeared as if by magic in his\nbulging flannel shirt. A vicious thud behind him and another hole showed\nin a pine log on the opposite wall.\n\u201cCracky!\u201d exclaimed Sandy again. \u201cDick are you hurt?\u201d\n\u201cAlmost got me that time.\u201d Trembling, Dick walked over and exhibited the\ntell-tale holes.\n\u201cDidn\u2019t it even nick you?\u201d gurgled Sandy.\n\u201cNot a bit. That was lucky. I caught a glimpse of the man that fired the\nshot.\u201d\n\u201cWho was it?\u201d\n\u201cPierre Mekewai.\u201d\n\u201cWolf put him up to it.\u201d\n\u201cNo question about that. Now that he\u2019s got a little liquor into him,\nhe\u2019s commencing measures of retaliation.\u201d\nThe door opened below and someone came bounding up the stairs.\nWhite-faced, Factor Scott bounded into the room.\n\u201cDid someone fire through the window just now?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Dick.\n\u201cThe devil!\u201d exploded the factor. \u201cAs soon as I heard the report\noutside, I ran out to see if I could see anyone. Wonder what practical\njoker did that?\u201d\n\u201cIt wasn\u2019t a practical joker,\u201d stormed Sandy. \u201cIt was an assassin. He\u2014he\ntried to kill Dick. Dick was standing in front of the window. The bullet\nwent right through his shirt. Come here, Mr. Scott, and look at it.\u201d\nThe factor, amazement written in his face, crossed the room as he was\nbidden. His eyes grew very wide and his lips compressed tightly.\n\u201cHeavens! What a close call, Dick. You\u2019re lucky you\u2019re alive.\u201d\n\u201cDon\u2019t I know it,\u201d trembled Dick.\n\u201cThat settles it,\u201d the factor\u2019s breath caught and he plunked down in a\nchair. \u201cTomorrow I\u2019m going to send word to the police.\u201d\n\u201cNo, I wish you wouldn\u2019t.\u201d\nMr. Scott started in surprise.\n\u201cWish I wouldn\u2019t! Why not? When murder is attempted I think it\u2019s about\ntime something was done about it. When the police come, they\u2019ll find out\nwho fired that bullet.\u201d\n\u201cI already know who fired the bullet.\u201d\n\u201cWho?\u201d the factor\u2019s voice snapped.\n\u201cPierre Mekewai.\u201d\n\u201cAre you sure?\u201d\n\u201cAbsolutely. I saw him.\u201d\n\u201cVery well then, I\u2019ll put him under arrest. But what\u2014Good Heavens, what\ngrudge has he against you?\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s not his grudge. It\u2019s Brennan\u2019s and McCallum\u2019s. We had some trouble\ndown river. They\u2019re trying to even the score, that\u2019s all.\u201d\n\u201cIn that case we\u2019ll have them all placed under arrest.\u201d\n\u201cNo, not yet, Mr. Scott. For certain reasons of my own I do not wish\nanything done about this for the time being, anyway. And as for the\npolice, until we find we can\u2019t cope with the situation ourselves, we\nwon\u2019t call them.\u201d\n\u201cDick, I think you\u2019re mad.\u201d\n\u201cNo, not mad,\u201d Dick smiled. \u201cI\u2019m merely carrying out, or I should say\nSandy, Toma and I are carrying out certain investigations.\u201d\n\u201cFor whom?\u201d\n\u201cThe mounted police.\u201d\nFactor breathed an expansive sigh.\n\u201cWell all I hope is that everything will come out all right. I\u2019d hate to\nhave any of you boys get hurt.\u201d\n\u201cFor our own sakes, I hope so too,\u201d grinned Sandy.\n\u201cBut what\u2019s at the bottom of this?\u201d the factor commenced all over again.\n\u201cYou can\u2019t make me believe that men will attempt murder because of some\ntrivial grudge.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m not trying to,\u201d retorted Dick. \u201cWe\u2019re not sure what it\u2019s all about\nourselves. But we propose to find out.\u201d\n\u201cGood for you!\u201d applauded the factor.\nNext morning, when Dick and Sandy awoke, there was another surprise in\nstore for them. Bounding from his bed, the former was the first to make\nthe discovery. He stood, staring in dismay. Across the room, Toma\u2019s bunk\nhad not been disturbed. Where was he? Overcome with sudden fear, he\nstepped forward, gasping.\n\u201cSandy!\u201d he shrieked, pointing. \u201cSandy!\u201d\nThe young Scotchman became so weak at the thought of what might have\nhappened, that he gave utterance to a little cry of dismay and sat down.\n\u201cIt\u2019s all our fault,\u201d he moaned. \u201cWe shouldn\u2019t have gone to bed until we\nhad found out where he had gone. Something terrible has occurred or he\u2019d\nhave been back long before this.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid so,\u201d Dick was forced to admit.\n\u201cHe knows we\u2019d worry about him if he stayed out all night. He wouldn\u2019t\ndo it either unless he was hurt\u2014or\u2014or\u2014\u2014\u201d Sandy\u2019s voice broke.\nThe boys commenced feverishly to tear into their clothes, and, in less\nthan two minutes, they were bounding down the stairs into the trading\nroom. Factor Scott looked up in surprise at their precipitous entrance.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong now?\u201d\n\u201cMr. Scott, have you seen Toma?\u201d\nThe factor rubbed his chin. \u201cWhy, no, I haven\u2019t. Didn\u2019t he come in last\nnight?\u201d\nThe boys did not answer. Bolting to the door, they ran outside. They\nbegan searching everywhere. They made inquiries of every person they\nmet. Organizing a search party, they scoured the woods in the vicinity\nof the post. That afternoon at three o\u2019clock, beaten and discouraged,\nthey returned to the trading room to see if by any chance Toma had\nreturned during their absence. Factor Scott met them at the door.\nDick\u2019s and Sandy\u2019s dejected appearance told the story. The factor knew\nwithout asking that they had been unsuccessful. He endeavored to comfort\nthem.\n\u201cWe mustn\u2019t worry,\u201d he said, placing a kindly arm about the shoulders of\nthe disconsolate pair. \u201cI feel sure that Toma is safe. I really can\u2019t\nmake myself believe there has been foul play.\u201d\n\u201cWish I could think that,\u201d Sandy\u2019s eyes were tragic.\n\u201cMr. Scott,\u201d requested Dick, \u201cmay we see you alone for a few moments?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, yes. Certainly.\u201d\nDick turned and dismissed the search party and he and Sandy followed the\nfactor inside. They went directly to the little room at the back. Scott\nclosed and locked the door.\n\u201cWhat is it, Dick?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cSandy and I have come to a decision. We\u2019re going to have it out with\nBrennan, McCallum and the two Mekewai brothers. We\u2019re convinced that\nthose four men know where Toma is\u2014wh\u2014what has happened to him. They\u2019re\ngoing to tell us or we\u2019ll know the reason why.\u201d\nAghast, the factor stood and stared at the two boys.\n\u201cWhat!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cYou\u2019d go there? Why, they\u2019ll kill you. You\u2019re no\nmatch for them. Just pause to consider, Dick. Don\u2019t be rash. There must\nbe a better way than that.\u201d\n\u201cIf there is,\u201d Dick\u2019s tones struck coldly upon the ears of the older\nman, \u201cI wish you\u2019d tell me. If they haven\u2019t already killed him, there\u2019s\na chance that Toma may be over at the Mekewai tepee.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean held prisoner?\u201d\n\u201cYes, there\u2019s a faint chance. I haven\u2019t much hope that we\u2019ll find him. I\nbelieve that they murdered him, just as they tried to murder me last\nnight.\u201d\n\u201cIf you\u2019re determined to go,\u201d suggested the factor, \u201ccan\u2019t I send a few\nmen along with you?\u201d\n\u201cNo, we\u2019ll go alone. We don\u2019t know whom we can absolutely trust. Thank\nyou for your willingness to help. Come on, Sandy.\u201d\nAs they walked back into the trading room, the younger boy, who was in\nthe lead, stopped unexpectedly and gave vent to an ear-splitting\nscreech:\n\u201cToma!\u201d\nIn the doorway swayed the young Indian. A livid scar streaked his\nforehead. His hat was gone and his hair was crusted with blood. He stood\nthere, smiling feebly. In a moment two strong pair of arms encircled him\nand bore him triumphantly and joyously into the room. Sandy was sobbing\nlike a child. Dick laughed half hysterically, his eyes filled with\ntears.\n\u201cI\u2019ll bring some bandages,\u201d shouted the factor.\nThough Sandy and Dick were anxious to find out what had happened to\nToma, they did not ask him a question until his head had been bandaged,\nfood had been given him, and he had been made comfortable in a bed\nupstairs.\n\u201cNow tell us all about it if you feel strong enough, Toma,\u201d said Dick,\nas he, Sandy and the factor bent over him.\n\u201cI tell you pretty quick,\u201d the young Indian smiled up at them weakly.\n\u201cNot very much I remember what happen. Last night I take \u2019em my rifle\nan\u2019 walk away through the woods. Think mebbe I shoot partridge or two.\nBy an\u2019 by, I come to old mission trail, \u2019bout two miles from here. It\nvery hot in the woods an\u2019 I sit down on a log to rest. I sit there mebbe\nten, mebbe twenty minutes. All at once I hear \u2019em sound like partridge\nmake try fly through the brush. I look \u2019round when something hit me on\nthe head, knock me off the log. Everything turn black. Not remember\nnothing after that. Stay there all night just like a dead man. When I\nwake up, sun shining. Feel sick, dizzy, when I try sit up. Want drink of\nwater very bad. Tongue all swell so big that it hurt me if I close my\nmouth.\u201d\n\u201cUgh!\u201d shuddered the factor. \u201cImagine that sort of agony out there all\nalone.\u201d\n\u201cAnd he isn\u2019t telling half of it.\u201d As he spoke Sandy bent forward and\nbrushed back a wisp of black hair that had fallen over the patient\u2019s\nbandaged head.\n\u201cThen what did you do?\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cWell,\u201d continued Toma, \u201cI want water very much. I think \u2019em me \u2019bout\nlittle creek I cross night before. Long way off that creek. Part time I\nwalk hold on trees, other time I crawl. I get tired an\u2019 think no use.\nToo weak to get there. But after I lay still little while, I feel\nbetter. Then I go on some more. After very long time I come to creek. I\nvery glad then. I crawl right over an\u2019 lay down in water. I drink not\ntoo much at first, then after while some more. I began feel better. I\nstay mebbe one hour at the little creek then I come on here.\u201d\n\u201cAnd that\u2019s all you can tell?\u201d gasped the factor.\n\u201cYes, I say everything I know.\u201d\n\u201cDid you see the man that struck you on the head?\u201d\n\u201cNo see \u2019em,\u201d answered the young Indian.\n\u201cWhere did you leave your gun?\u201d\n\u201cSomebody take gun. Take money too. Everything gone when I wake up.\u201d\n\u201cThis isn\u2019t a bullet wound on your head,\u201d Dick told him. \u201cIt was made by\nsome sharp instrument.\u201d\n\u201cKnife,\u201d guessed Toma. \u201cPlace where I thought I hear partridge only\nlittle way behind me\u2014not more than fifteen feet. What I think happen,\nman creep up that far an\u2019 throw \u2019em knife.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re probably right,\u201d said Dick. \u201cAn Indian, not a white man attacked\nyou. As a general thing a white man doesn\u2019t know much about knife\nthrowing. No doubt, it was one of the Mekewai brothers.\u201d\nToma nodded his head slightly, lying there on the pillow.\n\u201cI think mebbe Mekewai too.\u201d\n\u201cWhat induced you to go hunting at that hour?\u201d inquired Sandy\nreproachfully. \u201cWas that your real reason for going off alone?\u201d\nThe Indian flushed. \u201cThat only one reason,\u201d he admitted.\n\u201cWhat were some of the others?\u201d Dick smiled. Toma hesitated, looking at\nthe factor. Mr. Scott interpreted that look.\n\u201cIf you like, I\u2019ll withdraw,\u201d he announced cheerily.\n\u201cNo, Mr. Scott, stay right where you are. You might as well hear the\nrest of the story. Toma, you can trust Mr. Scott implicitly. Now what\nwas another reason?\u201d\n\u201cI know,\u201d interrupted Sandy eagerly. \u201cHe was out trying to find the\nplace where the Mekewai brothers hid those sacks. Come now, confess.\nIsn\u2019t that what you were doing?\u201d\nTo the surprise of everyone, Toma shook his head.\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said emphatically; \u201cI not go look that time. One other time I\ngo look everywhere an\u2019 try find. But last night I have something else\nmake me go. I think mebbe I find the factor.\u201d\n\u201cWho, me?\u201d almost shrieked Scott.\n\u201cNo, Mr. Frazer, the factor Sandy\u2019s uncle send away.\u201d\nScott laughed uproariously. \u201cGood gracious, my boy! What a queer fancy.\nFrazer! Why he\u2019s miles away.\u201d\nThere was one thing Toma did not like and that was to be ridiculed. His\neyes darkened angrily. A slow flush mounted to his cheeks. He appealed\nto his two friends.\n\u201cDick, Sandy\u2014I tell you that not so crazy like you think. Factor Frazer\ncome here two nights ago.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t believe it\u2014\u2014\u201d began Dick.\n\u201cWait a minute! Wait a minute!\u201d cried Sandy excitedly. \u201cToma wouldn\u2019t\nmake that statement if he didn\u2019t have a good reason for doing so. Hold\non there, you two fellows! Not so fast! Give him time to explain. Toma,\nif they won\u2019t believe you, I will. What makes you so sure Donald Frazer\nwas here two nights ago?\u201d\n\u201cOld Indian he tell \u2019em me he see Frazer go past his tepee with Wolf\nBrennan an\u2019 Toby McCallum. Him very good Indian an\u2019 I don\u2019t think he\ntell lie. Him Indian fellow that live next to last tepee south of the\nboat landing. I talk with him yesterday when he tell me that. He say\nnearly everybody know now Frazer stay in little cabin not far away in\nthe woods\u2014some place near mission trail. That\u2019s why I go that way.\u201d\n\u201cDonald Frazer\u2019s presence here can mean only one thing,\u201d decided the\nfactor. \u201cHe is planning revenge for being dismissed from the service. By\nnature a revengeful man, he\u2019ll retaliate in every way that he can. We\nmust be ready for him.\u201d\n\u201cWhat do you think he\u2019ll do? Personally, I can\u2019t see that he can\naccomplish much\u2014one man against as powerful a company as the Hudson\u2019s\nBay.\u201d As Sandy spoke, he reached for a chair, which he pulled toward the\nfactor. \u201cSit down, Mr. Scott. And please tell us what you think Frazer\nwill do. Seems to me he\u2019s wasting time.\u201d\nThe factor thanked Sandy and slipped into the chair. For a moment the\nroom was quiet. Toma put out his hand weakly and tugged at the blankets\nthat had been tucked in around him. It was still uncomfortably warm\nupstairs, almost as hot as it had been on the day before when Dick had\nbeen fired upon.\nMr. Scott cleared his throat. \u201cEvery factor has his following,\u201d he\ncommenced. \u201cFrazer has been here eight years and has made many friends,\nof course. These friends will sympathize with him now that he has lost\nhis position and will be ready to believe that he has been treated\nunjustly. It will divert trade to independent companies. He may be able\nto influence many of our best customers against us. Not only that, if he\nhas no scruples about employing more criminal methods\u2014and I don\u2019t think\nhe has\u2014he can tamper with incoming shipments of merchandise and outgoing\nshipments of fur. He can do incalculable damage in so many different\nways that I can\u2019t begin to enumerate or even think of all of them.\u201d\n\u201cWe must be on our guard incessantly,\u201d Dick advised.\n\u201cEven if we are, I doubt if we\u2019ll be able to stop him. The only sure way\nwould be to have the police come over and take him into custody. When\nCorporal Rand gets back from his patrol, I\u2019ll lay the matter before\nhim.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid it will be weeks before Corporal Rand returns,\u201d said Dick,\nshaking his head.\n\u201cThat\u2019s unfortunate.\u201d\n\u201cYes, it is,\u201d agreed the young man. \u201cSandy and I will do all we can, but\nI guess we\u2019ll have more than our hands full fighting that crowd.\u201d\n\u201cAnd they won\u2019t fight fair,\u201d lamented Sandy. \u201cCowardly tactics,\nunscrupulous methods\u2014snakes in the grass all of them. Yesterday they\nalmost killed Dick, and now they have wounded Toma. They won\u2019t stop at\nanything. With all deference to your opinion, Mr. Scott, I do not\nbelieve that revenge is Frazer\u2019s only motive. There is some other\nreason; something less devious, more deep and mysterious. Dick, we might\nas well tell Mr. Scott about that pit in the cellar.\u201d\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that!\u201d the factor bounded from his chair.\nDick\u2019s face changed color. He had not expected that Sandy would blurt\nout about that discovery.\n\u201cI should have told you,\u201d he apologized. \u201cI\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cA pit in the cellar!\u201d Scott gasped. \u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d\n\u201cUnder the floor,\u201d explained Dick. \u201cThe planking is loose. A hole\u2014quite\na large hole there. Frazer evidently knew about it; probably had it dug.\nThose burlap sacks the Mekewai brothers brought up that night must have\ncome from that hole; been hidden there.\u201d\nThe factor mumbled incoherently, staring at the two young men opposite.\nHe sank into his chair again, brought out a handkerchief and mopped his\nperspiring face.\n\u201cA pit, you say? Under the floor! Well, good gracious! How\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t all. You might as well hear the rest of it,\u201d Dick\ninterrupted, glaring at Sandy. \u201cWe have pretty good reasons to suspect\nthat Frazer hired the Mekewai brothers to get those sacks. Frazer\u2019s\nloot, we believe. Probably gold. Two other persons know all about the\nsacks, too\u2014Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum.\u201d\n\u201cA conspiracy!\u201d exploded the factor. \u201cWhat else have you found out?\u201d\n\u201cNothing, except that we know the Mekewai brothers buried the loot\nsomewhere.\u201d\nIn great agitation, the factor filled and lit his pipe. He puffed for a\nmoment in silence.\n\u201cI can begin to see where I\u2019ve been duped, too,\u201d he told them. \u201cWhat\nyou\u2019ve just divulged helps to throw light on some of Frazer\u2019s former\nactions. For one thing, it was never quite clear to me why he kept\nsending me away on such trivial errands. Twice during the month\npreceding his discharge, I was despatched to outlying districts\nostensibly to drum up trade among the Indians. It seemed foolish to me\nat the time, but I had no choice in the matter. It didn\u2019t make a bit of\ndifference how busy we were, he\u2019d always find some pretext to send me\naway.\u201d\n\u201cExactly! He worked the same scheme on us,\u201d Sandy cut in. \u201cSay! What\u2019s\nthe matter with you, Toma?\u201d\nThe injured boy raised his hand, commanding silence.\n\u201cListen,\u201d he said. \u201cI think I hear somebody come up the stairs.\u201d\nDick ran to the door and opened it. In the hallway outside was the young\nhalf-breed boy, whom Mr. Scott employed in various capacities.\n\u201cYes, yes, Meschel, what is it?\u201d\nThe boy\u2019s eyes were round and staring.\n\u201cMr. Scott here?\u201d he cried. \u201cTell Mr. Scott to come quick. Fellow\ndownstairs very drunk, try to break in through the window.\u201d\n\u201cWho was he?\u201d demanded the factor, who now stood immediately behind\nDick. \u201cBut never mind, Meschel, I\u2019ll be right down.\u201d\nHe followed the half-breed below. Dick and Sandy joined him.\n\u201cMr. Scott,\u201d said Dick, \u201cI think Meschel must be dreaming. Who would\nbreak in at this time of day? They don\u2019t need to. All they have to do is\nto walk in through the front door.\u201d\n\u201cSo it would seem,\u201d smiled the factor, \u201cbut after the many surprises\nwe\u2019ve received in the last few days, I\u2019m prepared for anything. What\nwindow did they try to break in, Meschel?\u201d\n\u201cWindow at the back where you have your office,\u201d the half-breed replied\npromptly. \u201cTwo women come in an\u2019 buy some cloth an\u2019 right after I hear\nsome noise that seem like it come from your office. Just as soon as I\nopen the door, a man standing in front of the window outside, put down\nthe screen an\u2019 run away. Screen lying on ground now. You see that for\nyourself.\u201d\nIt was just as Meschel had told them. Making their way into the little\noffice, the factor, Dick and Sandy stood looking at the evidence of the\nmarauder\u2019s recent visit.\nThe factor turned to Meschel. \u201cYou must have seen who it was.\u201d\n\u201cNot sure because I was very much scare.\u201d\n\u201cCome now, Meschel, you know better than that. If he stood just in front\nof the window facing you, you could easily identify him. You\u2019ve already\ntold me that he was drunk. If you had that much eye for detail, surely\nyou can give me a description of him.\u201d\nThe half-breed blinked and a slow flush of embarrassment mounted his\nswarthy face.\n\u201cYes, Mr. Scott, I know who it was. But I\u2019m \u2019fraid tell you because you\ngo make that fellow trouble an\u2019 afterward sometime he come kill me.\u201d\nA slight frown of perplexity appeared upon the factor\u2019s thoughtful brow.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that, Meschel? You know who it is and won\u2019t tell me? You\u2019re\nafraid of the consequences?\u201d\n\u201cI tell you,\u201d whimpered Meschel, \u201cbut I am very much \u2019fraid. Pierre\nMekewai\u2014that\u2019s the fellow I see.\u201d\nMr. Scott swallowed heavily, commenced pacing back and forth. His face\nwas touched with pallor. He stopped before Dick and Sandy.\n\u201cFrazer\u2019s work! Now what do you suppose he was up to?\u201d\nThe disclosure acted upon Dick like a cold shower. He stood with lips\npressed, staring at the screen outside. Near him, Sandy clenched his\nfists convulsively.\n\u201cMr. Scott,\u201d asked Dick at length, \u201chave you any way to bar the windows?\nIt may be Frazer\u2019s intention to burn down the post.\u201d\n\u201cNot in broad daylight, surely. No, I think that more likely what they\nwere after were the company\u2019s books. Another thing, as Frazer knows, we\noften keep money in this room, valuable papers and accounts. It would be\na serious loss to this post if we should lose them. All the records\ndealing with transactions with our fur customers are here. However, your\nsuggestion to bar the windows is a good one. I\u2019ll send for the\nblacksmith at once.\u201d\n\u201cFrom now on,\u201d said Dick, \u201cwe\u2019d better keep close watch day and night.\u201d\nThe factor nodded. \u201cTwo night watchmen armed with rifles. You and Sandy\ncan help me during the day.\u201d\nIt was well that these precautions were taken. That same night, two\nIndians, hired for the positions for night watchmen, repulsed three\nefforts on the part of Frazer\u2019s men to gain admittance. So persistent\nwere these attempts to enter the post, that Dick began to believe that\nsomething even of more value than the company\u2019s records were at stake.\nAt ten o\u2019clock on the following morning, he and Mr. Scott were\ndiscussing this phase of it, when a young half-breed bolted through the\nopen door of the trading room, shouting wildly.\n\u201cFire, Meester Scott! The warehouse eet ees burn! Come queek!\u201d\nThe factor tore around the end of the counter, his eyes blazing like two\nlamps.\n\u201cMy God!\u201d he cried. \u201cThe fur! Thousands of dollars worth waiting for\nshipment.\u201d He raced to the door. \u201cCome on!\u201d he shouted.\nThe boys followed closely behind the racing form of the factor. They\ncould see the fire now. Dense volumes of smoke curled up from the eaves\nof the building. As yet, no flame was discernible but the smoke was\nthick. They had almost reached the burning building, when suddenly Dick\nstopped. Through his mind there had flashed an appalling thought. The\ntrading post was unguarded. Everyone had rushed to the fire. Hadn\u2019t the\nwarehouse been purposely set on fire with this end in view? For a\nmoment, he watched Sandy and the factor racing on, then turned quickly\nand sprinted back to the trading room.\nPurposely leaving the door open behind him, revolver in hand, he\nconcealed himself behind the counter and waited. Through the door and\nopen windows there came to him the frenzied shouts of the fire fighters.\nEven in the trading room he could detect the rancid smell of smoke. He\nwondered if he had been foolish in coming here when his assistance was\nso urgently required back there at the warehouse. He crouched low, his\nthought a conflicting whirl. Once he half started to his feet, deciding\nthat his suspicions were groundless and that he must hurry to the aid of\nhis comrades. But again he thought better of it and stooped still lower,\nbreathlessly waiting.\nA step sounded outside. Whispering voices, then the stealthy movement of\nfeet across the floor. He gripped his revolver convulsively. He dare not\nlook up for fear that he might be discovered. He did not wish to\nconfront them yet. What were they here for? Why had they made those\nrepeated attempts to break in?\nThe door of the factor\u2019s office opened and closed. He could hear muffled\nvoices in there, the faint shuffling of feet, the creaking of what\nsounded like a drawer. Stealthy as a cat, he rose to an upright\nposition, tip-toed around the counter and, with desperate caution, made\nhis way over to the door of the factor\u2019s office. His hand stole\ntremblingly to the knob. Just before he closed over it, he heard a husky\nvoice.\n\u201cQuick! Someone may come back any moment. It\u2019s here! You take one and\nI\u2019ll take the other.\u201d\nSteeling himself for the ordeal, Dick turned the knob and kicked the\ndoor open. A wicked, pock-marked face, with wolfish fangs bared,\nconfronted him. Behind Henri Mekewai stood the figure of Donald Frazer.\n\u201cMake one move,\u201d said Dick in a voice of deathly calm, \u201cand I\u2019ll blow\nyour brains out.\u201d\nThe renegade Indian snarled like a cornered beast. Frazer\u2019s first spasm\nof fear was followed by a low cry of rage. His unsteady, sinister eyes\nsquinted into Dick\u2019s, then with a lightning motion his hand flashed\ntoward his belt.\nThe room roared with the explosion. Frazer\u2019s revolver clattered to the\nfloor. He held up a bleeding hand, like one scarcely crediting the\nevidence of his senses.\n\u201cNext time,\u201d Dick growled, \u201cI won\u2019t be so easy on you. Move back to the\nwall, Mekewai, if you make another move like that, I\u2019ll shoot you where\nyou stand. Stand back!\u201d\nWincing with pain, the former factor hurriedly obeyed. The Indian\nfollowed him. As they did so, Dick\u2019s gaze flashed to the open roll-top\ndesk and on that instant his eyes popped.\nThere on the flat surface in front of him were two large leather\npokes\u2014prospector\u2019s pokes, bulging with gold. At sight of them, his heart\nleaped. He was so startled and astonished at seeing them there, that for\na period he was off guard. Perceiving the momentary laxing of vigilance,\nthe Indian dove headlong, straight toward Dick, who, recovering his\npresence of mind, tried to slip to one side and fire at the same time.\nThe revolver exploded harmlessly, the bullet crashing into the wall\nopposite. Hurled back through the door, Dick landed in a heap just\ninside the trading room, Mekewai on top of him. But even then, Dick had\nnot lost the instinct of self-preservation. His opponent\u2019s head was just\nabove him and he struck out boldly with his clubbed weapon. Mekewai\ngroaned, went limp and slipped to one side. Dick scrambled to his knees\njust in time to dive furiously for the speeding form of Frazer, who had\nbounded through the open office door.\nIt was a glancing tackle, yet it was almost sufficient to knock Frazer\nfrom the perpendicular. Crashing up against the wall, the fleeing man\ninadvertently dropped one of the pokes and was trying to reach it when\nDick made a second lunge for him.\nAlmost cornered, Frazer leaped frantically straight over Dick\u2019s head and\ndarted for the door. A bullet whistled after him, missing him by a scant\ntwo inches.\nDick groped to his feet, stepped over the prostrate heap on the floor\nand stumbled back into the little office, where he picked up Frazer\u2019s\nrevolver. Then returning quickly, he got the poke Frazer had dropped,\nslipped both revolver and gold under the counter in the trading room and\nwas just stooping down to examine the unconscious prisoner, when the\ndoor of the loft opened and Toma, his face flushed with excitement,\nstaggered toward him.\n\u201cDick,\u201d he trembled, \u201cWhat happen? You shoot this man\u2014you\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cToma, get back to bed,\u201d Dick interrupted whirling about, confronting\nhis chum. \u201cDon\u2019t worry\u2014everything all right\u2014now. Frazer and Mekewai\u2014I\u2014I\ntried to capture both of them and\u2014and Frazer got away. My fault too. I\nwas careless.\u201d\n\u201cWhy they come?\u201d the young Indian demanded, steadying himself by holding\non to the counter.\n\u201cGold! In the office, Toma. Frazer had it concealed there.\u201d\nDick\u2019s chum stood and stared incredulously.\n\u201cThey get \u2019em?\u201d he croaked.\n\u201cPart of it.\u201d\nThen, without explaining further, Dick strode over, procured a rope from\nthe company\u2019s stock and commenced binding up his unconscious prisoner.\nToma walked nervously to the door and peered out.\n\u201cNo go back to bed,\u201d he stated. \u201cI stay up. Dick, you run get Sandy an\u2019\ntry follow Frazer. Tell \u2019em factor I am here all alone to watch Mekewai\nan\u2019 gold. Soon as factor get back here, then I go to bed.\u201d\nThere was less smoke drifting in through the door now, an indication\nthat the fire at the warehouse might be under control. But it would be\nsome time before Scott, Meschel and Sandy returned. No doubt, they and\nothers had taken a good deal of the fur from the warehouse to a safe\ndistance outside. Dick was very anxious to know how the fight with the\nfire was progressing. Yet, he feared to leave the trading room, even for\na moment, while the wounded Indian and gold were still there. Indeed,\nDick half expected that Frazer would return with the second Mekewai\nbrother and probably Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum. In such an event,\nToma would be no match for them. By the same token, it was doubtful\nwhether the combined efforts of himself and Toma would be sufficient to\nrepulse them.\n\u201cYou better go quick,\u201d insisted Toma.\nDick turned beseeching eyes toward his valiant comrade.\n\u201cToma, I can\u2019t do it. I\u2019m afraid. The minute I go through that door,\nthey\u2019ll be down upon you like a pack of wolves. Four against one\u2014what\nchance would you have?\u201d\nToma had started to protest, when Dick caught sight of an ominous glint\nof metal less than a hundred yards away. Without further adieu, he\nsprang forward and slammed the door, bolted and locked it. Then from the\nfront window, he and Toma looked out toward the place where the former\nhad seen the stealthy movement.\n\u201cOver behind that brush! Look!\u201d\nThe young Indian drew in his breath sharply.\n\u201cI see \u2019em three men, Wolf, McCallum an\u2019 Frazer.\u201d\nAlert, Dick stepped back. \u201cLook out, Toma,\u201d he jerked. \u201cThey may fire.\nWhat do you say we route them out of there? They don\u2019t know yet that\nwe\u2019ve seen them. If you\u2019ll stand guard here, I\u2019ll run up to the loft and\nfetch our rifles.\u201d\nWhen Dick returned, Toma was still standing there.\n\u201cHave they gone yet?\u201d he inquired.\n\u201cNo.\u201d\nThe boys fired three rounds at the screen of willows and presently the\nskulkers broke and fled precipitously. To Dick\u2019s amazement, Toma\ncontinued to discharge his rifle.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the idea?\u201d he snapped. \u201cYou can\u2019t hit them now. Isn\u2019t one chance\nin a thousand that a stray bullet will get to them.\u201d\n\u201cThat not why I shoot,\u201d Toma informed him cooly. \u201cFactor, Sandy, they\nhear noise. They come back.\u201d\nDick grinned. \u201cYes, that is a good way to summon them. If the factor\nhears that, he\u2019ll go frantic.\u201d\nAnd in truth the boys did not have long to wait. They heard voices\noutside, then, before they had time to open it, loud pounding on the\ndoor.\n\u201cGood gracious, Dick, what is going on here?\u201d the factor shouted as he\ncame into the room, quickly followed by Sandy and Meschel.\n\u201cCracky!\u201d Sandy\u2019s eyes popped. \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d He stood staring at the\nnow groaning form of Henri Mekewai.\n\u201cFrazer was here in your absence. So was that scum you see lying on the\nfloor. There\u2019s a secret compartment in the wall of your office and two\npokes of gold were concealed there. I walked in upon them just as they\nwere taking it from its hiding place. I was so surprised at seeing the\ngold that, even though I had them covered, I was off guard for a moment\nand the Indian leaped upon me.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you shot him!\u201d gasped Sandy.\n\u201cNo, I struck him over the head when we tumbled to the floor.\nPreviously, I had wounded Frazer in the hand when he tried to reach for\nhis gun. During my struggle with Henri, Frazer seized the two pokes and\nstarted to rush by me. I grabbed for him and nearly upset him. He\ndropped one of the pokes, but in spite of all I could do, he escaped\nwith the other.\u201d\n\u201cBut who were you shooting at just before we came?\u201d\n\u201cFrazer and the two prospectors. They were returning to get the other\npoke. Did you succeed in saving most of the fur?\u201d\n\u201cSome of it was badly scorched and ruined,\u201d the factor informed him.\n\u201cHowever, the fire is out now. I have placed Langley, the blacksmith,\nand two half-breeds in charge. The fire is of very mysterious origin. It\nbroke out among the bales of fur in the back of the building. I believe\nnow it was the work of an incendiary. No doubt, Frazer started it. When\nSandy\u2019s uncle drove him away from the post, he probably took one of the\nkeys of the warehouse with him. Today when no one was looking, either he\nor one of his accomplices boldly entered, started the fire, then came\nout and locked the door.\u201d\n\u201cThere\u2019s no question but what Frazer set the fire,\u201d said Dick grimly. \u201cI\nsuspected it from the first. I followed you and Sandy almost to the\nwarehouse, when it suddenly occurred to me that we had left the door to\nthe trading room open and the place unprotected.\u201d He paused and looked\nearnestly up into the factor\u2019s face. \u201cCan\u2019t you see,\u201d he went on, \u201cthat\nit was all of a prearranged plan? Unsuccessful in his efforts to get\ninto your office, Frazer hit upon the very clever idea of firing the\nwarehouse, knowing that all of us would rush out to the scene of the\nfire, leaving this place wholly unguarded.\u201d\nMr. Scott thumped his two hands together and looked at Dick admiringly.\n\u201cYou\u2019re right. If it hadn\u2019t been for you, they\u2019d have succeeded.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean, they almost succeeded in spite of me. Don\u2019t forget they got\none of those pokes.\u201d\nThe factor moved forward. \u201cShow me the place where the gold was hid. You\nspoke of a secret compartment. I want to see it.\u201d\nDick led the way into the little office and pointed at the gaping hole\nin the wall. When closed, the door of the compartment fitted so nicely\ninto its place that, standing three feet away, it was almost impossible\nto tell where it was. To complete the deception, a calendar had been\nhung down over it from a nail in the wall.\n\u201cAnd you didn\u2019t know a thing about that cabinet?\u201d Surprised, Dick turned\nupon the factor.\n\u201cNo, it\u2019s a revelation to me.\u201d\n\u201cI wonder from whom he stole the gold.\u201d\nMr. Scott shook his head. \u201cI can\u2019t imagine. It\u2019s all a mystery to me. In\nspite of the fact that I\u2019ve been working here for nearly three years, I\nmust confess to a complete ignorance of Frazer\u2019s nefarious schemes. I\nalways suspected, however, that he was dishonest and I had almost proved\nto my satisfaction that he was stealing from the company. It was no\nsurprise to me, therefore, when Mr. MacClaren came over from Fort Good\nFaith to audit the books.\u201d\nSandy had grown restless and impatient.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the gold?\u201d he demanded.\n\u201cCome on,\u201d said Dick, leading the way, \u201cand I\u2019ll show you that too.\u201d\nReturning to the trading room, he stepped behind the counter, stooped\nand lifted up for their inspection both poke and gun.\n\u201cDo you suppose they\u2019ll come back for it?\u201d the factor inquired\nnervously.\n\u201cOf course they will. They won\u2019t be satisfied with half of it. Just\nbefore you came over from the warehouse, they were preparing to rush the\npost.\u201d\n\u201cWhat will be their next ruse,\u201d puzzled Sandy.\n\u201cI don\u2019t know but you may depend on it, they\u2019ll think of some scheme.\nFrazer is a dangerous opponent. There is only one way that I can see to\nput a stop to this.\u201d\n\u201cHow?\u201d Sandy and Scott inquired in one breath.\n\u201cJust this,\u201d Dick gestured emphatically. \u201cAssume the offensive\nourselves. Instead of waiting for him to carry the fight into our\nterritory, let\u2019s go down and make it interesting for him.\u201d\n\u201cNow I think you talk sense,\u201d Toma\u2019s eyes snapped.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll do it,\u201d Sandy exclaimed excitedly.\n\u201cRight now,\u201d Toma appended.\n\u201cYou bet!\u201d Sandy began dancing up and down. \u201cI have an idea. We\u2019ll\nrecruit a little party and start out. There\u2019s Langley, the blacksmith,\nand those two half-breeds down at the warehouse, Toma, Dick and myself.\nThat makes six in all. Six against four.\u201d\n\u201cSeven,\u201d corrected a vibrant, musical voice.\nStartled, every person in the room turned sharply and looked in the\ndirection from which the voice had come. Dick gasped and reached out\ntoward the counter for support.\nThere in the doorway stood Corporal Rand!\n                        THE POLICE TAKE CHARGE.\nCorporal Rand immediately took charge.\n\u201cNow,\u201d he said, \u201ctell me all about it.\u201d\nHe listened gravely to the story the boys told, while he sat there near\nthe open doorway, through which there poured the hot sun of early\nafternoon. Bronzed and weather-beaten was the corporal, but hard as\nnails, a steel spring in action.\n\u201cMaking merry in my absence, eh?\u201d His eyes glinted as he spoke. \u201cWhere\ncan I find these men?\u201d\n\u201cYou might find a few of them over at the Mekewai tepee,\u201d replied Dick.\n\u201cI do not know whether Frazer will be there or not. Toma says that the\nformer factor occupies a cabin somewhere near the Old Mission road.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019ll slip over to the tepee,\u201d announced the policeman as calmly as if\nhe spoke of entering the adjoining room. \u201cIf Wolf Brennan and McCallum\nare away with Frazer, I may be able to pick up the other Mekewai boy.\u201d\n\u201cMay I go with you?\u201d asked Dick eagerly.\nTo Dick\u2019s great disappointment, the corporal shook his head.\n\u201cNo, I\u2019ll go alone,\u201d he smiled. \u201cYou can stay here and rest on your\noars. I think you\u2019ve done enough for one day, Dick, old chap. I may call\nupon you later. Now if you\u2019ll tell me where I can find this Mekewai\ntepee, I\u2019ll be ever so much obliged to you.\u201d\n\u201cTurn down the bank to your right when you get to the boat landing,\u201d\ninstructed Dick. \u201cIt\u2019s the fourth tepee.\u201d\nCorporal Rand rose, yawned and walked over to where Henry Mekewai lay\ntrussed up on the floor. To Dick\u2019s surprise, he spoke to him.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s your brother?\u201d he demanded.\nThe Indian\u2019s ugly, repulsive face twisted into a snarl at the sound of\nthe voice. He did not know it was the policeman that spoke to him. His\neyes, averted, gazed at the wall beside him.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s your brother?\u201d persisted the quiet voice.\nHenri Mekewai turned his head surlily and looked up. He started visibly.\nIn common with other natives of that vast northern territory, he\npossessed an almost superstitious dread of anyone wearing that flaming\nred coat. Sudden terror leaped into his eyes.\n\u201cWhere\u2019s your brother?\u201d the corporal asked for the third and last time.\n\u201cMy brother he\u2014\u2014\u201d the Indian paused and moistened his dry lips.\n\u201cYes, go on.\u201d\n\u201cMy brother in our tepee, I think. I not sure.\u201d\n\u201cWhere are Brennan and McCallum?\u201d\n\u201cFind \u2019em in tepee,\u201d answered the Indian like a parrot.\n\u201cDo they stay with you?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cAnd where does Frazer stay?\u201d\n\u201cHe stay in cabin two mile from Half Way House. Pretty close to Old\nMission trail.\u201d\nCorporal Rand turned away.\n\u201cYou\u2019d better lock him up in a room somewhere,\u201d he instructed Dick.\n\u201cTake off these bonds. I may talk to him again later when I come back.\u201d\nWithout further word, the policeman spun on his heel and clanked out,\nspurs rattling, his body very straight and trim and pleasing to the eye.\nHe was absent just twenty minutes, by Dick\u2019s watch. When he returned,\ntwo figures preceded him\u2014Wolf Brennan and Toby McCallum, a somewhat\nworried looking pair. They came shame-facedly into the room, slinking\nlike two whipped curs. Gone was their blustering courage and\ncocksureness. Rand motioned them over to one side of the room a little\ndisdainfully.\n\u201cDon\u2019t try to move,\u201d he ordered, \u201cif you know what\u2019s good for you. Mr.\nScott, is the other prisoner locked up?\u201d\n\u201cYes, Corporal.\u201d\n\u201cDo you think you can find a place for these two men?\u201d\n\u201cIn the office. The windows are barred.\u201d\nThe policeman beckoned to the two prisoners, then strode forward and\nopened the door.\n\u201cGet in there,\u201d he commanded.\nWolf Brennan and his partner lost no time in doing as they were told.\nThe door was locked behind them.\n\u201cNow, Dick.\u201d\n\u201cYes, Corporal Rand,\u201d Dick stepped forward.\n\u201cI\u2019ll want you and Sandy to accompany me. We\u2019ll get an early supper and\nleave here around seven o\u2019clock. I think I know where Frazer\u2019s cabin is.\nI propose to swing completely around it and come in from the opposite\nside. That will mean about six miles of steady tramping.\u201d\n\u201cWhy not go straight there?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cBecause they may be on the lookout for us. They may be watching the\nroad leading from the post. I want to surprise them.\u201d\nThe corporal sat down in a chair while the three boys crowded around\nhim.\n\u201cWe\u2019re all mighty glad you got back,\u201d Sandy broke forth eagerly. \u201cYou\ncertainly came at an opportune time. How did you manage to get here so\nquickly?\u201d\n\u201cBecause I didn\u2019t go as far as I expected to,\u201d Rand smiled. \u201cIt\u2019s rather\na long story, Sandy, and I don\u2019t intend to burden you with it now. My\ndestination, as you may remember, was Caribou Lake. However, I got no\nfurther than the lower waters of the Half Way River. I was drifting\nalong one day, half asleep, when I saw a canoe approaching. The occupant\nof the little craft proved to be Jim Maynard, an old friend of mine. Jim\nis a trapper and prospector and has been working all winter up in the\nregion of Caribou Lake. When I told him I was going up to Miller\u2019s\ncabin, he seemed surprised. \u2018You won\u2019t find him there,\u2019 he told me. He\nexplained to me that he had visited at Miller\u2019s cabin just two days\nbefore the latter left by dog team for the south. I asked if Miller had\ntold him his destination. He replied that he had, Miller, it appeared,\nwas going out to Fort Laird.\u201d\n\u201cBut he never got there,\u201d Sandy interrupted.\n\u201cNo, he never got there. Something happened to him en route. He might\nhave lost his way in a storm and both he and his dogs perished.\u201d\n\u201cSo the mystery is still a mystery.\u201d\nThe policeman nodded. \u201cTime probably will solve it. Some day, I expect,\na lone traveller wandering through the vast wilderness space south of\nCaribou Lake will run across his bleached skeleton. The north has many\nsecrets,\u201d he went on, half to himself, \u201cmany of which will never be\nsolved.\u201d\n\u201cI wish we could solve this mystery that surrounds Frazer,\u201d put in Dick.\n\u201cHe had a good deal of gold hidden here, corporal. First we discover the\nplace where he had it concealed in the basement, now we find the secret\ncompartment in the little room. Of course, it is stolen gold. But from\nwhom did he steal it?\u201d\n\u201cGold in the basement!\u201d the policeman stared at Dick. \u201cYou didn\u2019t\nmention that. So he had it there too?\u201d\nDick nodded. \u201cVery cleverly concealed just like it was in the office.\nOnly in the cellar, instead of having a secret niche in the wall, he\ntook up a portion of the plank flooring, dug a pit and hid it in there\nin burlap sacks.\u201d\n\u201cBurlap sacks!\u201d Rand looked incredulous. \u201cThat is very unusual. How do\nyou know he had it in burlap sacks?\u201d\n\u201cBecause I saw them,\u201d and Dick narrated the incidents of the night the\nMekewai brothers broke into the trading room and descended to the\ncellar.\n\u201cYou are really sure that they carried this gold in burlap sacks?\u201d\n\u201cYes, Corporal.\u201d\n\u201cAnd you say the sacks were nearly full?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, yes,\u201d Dick looked puzzled, wondering what the policeman was\ndriving at.\n\u201cBut how do you know it was gold they carried in those burlap sacks?\u201d\n\u201cWe didn\u2019t, of course. We merely surmised that. It was something very\nvaluable or they wouldn\u2019t have been so anxious to get it.\u201d\n\u201cI grant you that. But did you ever stop to consider how much a sack of\ngold, one of the heaviest metals, would weigh? And didn\u2019t it ever occur\nto you that if a man had gold enough to fill a burlap sack, he\u2019d be\nwealthy enough to afford a container a little more durable and\ndependable than burlap?\u201d\n\u201cWhy, I never thought of that,\u201d Dick scratched his head.\n\u201cThe inference is, that it wasn\u2019t gold. Only a fool would put so\nprecious a metal in burlap sacks.\u201d\n\u201cYes, that seems reasonable,\u201d Dick smiled sheepishly. \u201cBut if it wasn\u2019t\ngold, what was it?\u201d\nCorporal Rand laughed heartily.\n\u201cNow, my boy, you\u2019re asking me a very difficult question. If we can find\nwhat they did with those sacks, I might be able to tell you.\u201d\n\u201cI know what they did with those sacks,\u201d Dick informed him.\n\u201cVery well, please tell me.\u201d\n\u201cThey buried them.\u201d\n\u201cWhy are you so sure?\u201d\n\u201cWe overheard one of the Mekewai boys tell Wolf Brennan and Toby\nMcCallum that they had buried the sacks in a safe place.\u201d\n\u201cIn a safe place,\u201d mused the policeman aloud.\n\u201cYes,\u201d Sandy corroborated his chum, \u201cthose were the very words he used.\u201d\nCorporal Rand sat for a moment immersed in thought. Then suddenly he\nstarted to his feet.\n\u201cI think I\u2019ll go in and have a talk with Henri Mekewai,\u201d he said.\nWhen Corporal Rand came out of the room in which Henri Mekewai was\nimprisoned, the boys met him in the hall outside.\n\u201cWhat luck?\u201d asked Sandy.\n\u201cNot a word out of him,\u201d Rand growled a little testily. \u201cCouldn\u2019t get\nhim to admit that he had even taken the sacks out of the cellar. Claims\nthat he knows nothing about it. I tried to frighten him, but it\u2019s no\nuse. The only way to get to the bottom of this is to find Frazer himself\nand force a confession.\u201d\n\u201cIt will soon be time now to start after him,\u201d Sandy looked at his\nwatch. \u201cTen minutes to six now. Supper is waiting for us in the dining\nroom.\u201d\n\u201cWhen we go, shall we take our rifles,\u201d asked Dick.\n\u201cNo, just our revolvers.\u201d\nOn the way to the supper table, Toma swung in behind Corporal Rand, his\nface utterly disconsolate. Looking at him, one might have thought that\nhe had just lost his nearest and dearest friend. His lower lip quivered.\nUnshed tears stood in his eyes. In the dining room, when Rand drew out\nhis chair to sit down, Toma stood near him gulping.\n\u201cCorporal Rand.\u201d\n\u201cYes, Toma,\u201d\u2014kindly.\n\u201cCorporal Rand, I feel \u2019em much better now.\u201d\nThe policeman turned his head and surveyed the drawn, haggard face.\n\u201cYou certainly don\u2019t look it. You ought to be in bed.\u201d\n\u201cTomorrow,\u201d smiled the young Indian, \u201cI take \u2019em off bandages.\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019m glad to hear that, Toma.\u201d\nA deep sigh. \u201cCorporal Rand, I feel plenty strong go along you, Dick an\u2019\nSandy.\u201d\nThe policeman shook his head as he reached over and patted the young\nman\u2019s arm.\n\u201cLike to have you, Toma. If you hadn\u2019t been wounded. I\u2019d say yes. You\u2019re\nreally in no condition to go.\u201d\nTo the surprise of everyone, Toma swung on his heel and walked out of\nthe room. Sandy\u2019s face clouded.\n\u201cPoor devil!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cThat upset him so much he won\u2019t even eat\nhis supper.\u201d\n\u201cIt is hard on him,\u201d sympathized Dick, looking down at his plate. \u201cThe\nminute you brought up the matter, Toma set his heart on accompanying us.\nIt is a terrible blow to him. He loves action and wants to be in at the\nfinish.\u201d\n\u201cI appreciate all that, but you must remember that if he overtaxes\nhimself, a thing which he is very apt to do, it is liable to cause\ncomplications. He still has a slight fever. Tell that by looking at him.\nEyes heavy, cheeks flushed. No, boys, for his own sake, I can\u2019t permit\nhim to go.\u201d\nNot long afterward, Corporal Rand and the two boys left the trading\npost, hurrying away through the woods. They had slipped off so quietly\nand unobtrusively that few persons were aware of their going. Rand set\nthe pace, walking with long, easy strides. Through dense thickets of\nalders, through the shadowed coolness of fir and balsam, across rippling\ngreen meadows of luxuriant grass, they made their way. Except now and\nthen for a low order respecting their route, the policeman did not talk.\nOnly the noises of the forest and the steady beat of their footsteps\ncould be heard. Sandy was nervous and continually consulted his watch.\n\u201cEight o\u2019clock,\u201d he finally announced to Dick. \u201cOught to be getting\nthere pretty soon.\u201d\nOn and on they tramped. Rand never hesitated. He seemed to be sure of\nhis route. Dick knew they were swinging around in a wide arc, yet he\nmarvelled at the policeman\u2019s sense of location. When they plunged\nthrough the trees out to the Old Mission road, for the first time since\ntheir departure, he raised his hand commanding them to stop.\n\u201cWe\u2019re very close to their cabin now,\u201d he explained in a low voice.\n\u201cStraight north,\u201d he pointed, \u201cabout three hundred yards. We will\nseparate here and attempt to make our approach from three directions.\nDick and I will start out, Dick to the right and I to the left and come\nupon them, if possible, coincident with your approach from the north,\nSandy. You have the shortest distance to go, therefore you must proceed\nslowly. I hope to corner them in the cabin.\u201d\nThe corporal paused. \u201cNow is there anything you\u2019d like to ask me?\u201d\nThe boys shook their heads.\n\u201cVery well then, we\u2019ll start. Don\u2019t shoot unless it is absolutely\nnecessary. Good luck!\u201d\nThey separated in silence. Down the road Dick hurried, watchful as a\nlynx. The sunlight streamed aslant, a glare in his eyes, bright gold\nwhere it touched the leaves of the poplar. Swerving abruptly to his\nright when he had gone a distance of about two hundred yards, he darted\nin among the trees, zig-zagging to avoid clumps of underbrush, his right\nhand resting lightly on his hip close to the butt of his revolver. He\nmade little sound as he advanced, and was actually preparing for a final\nsprint up to the cabin when, less than thirty feet straight ahead, he\ncaught a flashing glimpse of a human figure.\nBreathless, he stopped short, swung in behind a large tree and stood\nthere trembling. To his ears there came the faint trampling of feet. A\nvoice cracked across the stillness.\nSuddenly, his heart almost stopped beating. They had halted just within\nthe clump of bushes ahead, as though they had sensed his presence. Had\nthey seen him? Fearful now, he yanked out his revolver, crouched closer\nto the tree and waited. Frazer\u2019s harsh tones broke forth anew.\n\u201cI don\u2019t care what you say, Pierre, it isn\u2019t safe here. Sooner or later,\nsomeone may happen upon it.\u201d\n\u201cI dig \u2019em down deep,\u201d the Indian reassured him.\n\u201cCan\u2019t help it. Too close to the post. Hundred places you might have\nchosen better than this. I tell you, someone is apt to stumble upon it.\u201d\n\u201cYou \u2019fraid,\u201d accused the Indian.\nFrazer\u2019s voice rose angrily. \u201cYes, I am afraid, you black cut-throat,\nand you ought to be afraid too. Tonight we\u2019ll dig it up and\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cSsh!\u201d cautioned the Indian. \u201cI think I hear something.\u201d\nDick had heard something too\u2014a slight crackling in the brush behind him\nand a little off to his right. A shiver of apprehension coursed down\nalong his spine. Dizzy with weakness, he shrank still closer to the\ntree. Just then Pierre Mekewai plunged forward, his quick Indian eyes\ncatching sight of Dick\u2019s protruding arm. Firing from his hip, he darted\nback to cover. The bullet sliced the bark of the balsam. Dick heard the\nsound of running footsteps. A full half-minute passed.\n\u201cStop!\u201d commanded a voice some distance away, followed by the crack of a\ngun.\nHis heart pumping, Dick bounded from behind the tree, into the\nunderbrush, believing that both Frazer and the Indian had fled. Too late\nhe discovered his mistake. A blinding flash almost in his face, a sharp\npain in his left arm, the distorted picture of the white fear-struck\nface of Frazer!\nCarried forward by his own momentum, he collided with his opponent,\nstriking up the arm that still held the smoking weapon. Grappling, they\nwent down. The struggle was short and spirited.\n\u201cI\u2019ve got you!\u201d rumbled Dick, his hands fastened like leeches upon the\nother\u2019s wrists. \u201cDrop that gun!\u201d\nHe was still holding Frazer when the policeman came running up. The\ncorporal purloined the revolvers of both vanquished and victor. He\nassisted Dick to his feet.\n\u201cGood boy!\u201d he breathed. \u201cHurt badly?\u201d\nBefore Dick had time to answer, Sandy joined them.\n\u201cYou\u2019re wounded!\u201d shouted the newcomer. \u201cCan\u2019t you see, you\u2019re wounded.\u201d\n\u201cJust a scratch,\u201d Dick smiled feebly. \u201cA mere flesh wound, Sandy.\nCorporal Rand, will you twist on a tourniquet? I\u2019m sorry that Mekewai\ngot away. It was my fault. I think I was too hasty.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re good,\u201d grinned Rand. \u201cI\u2019ll take a little of the responsibility\nof Mekewai\u2019s escape myself. When he went past me, I called to him to\nstop.\u201d\n\u201cThen you shot at him,\u201d guessed Dick. \u201cThat was your revolver I heard.\u201d\n\u201cYes, he\u2019s wounded.\u201d\nThe policeman stepped forward and prodded Frazer with his foot.\n\u201cGet up!\u201d he ordered savagely.\nWhen the former factor had groped to an upright position, Corporal Rand\nturned upon Sandy.\n\u201cWatch him,\u201d he instructed, \u201cwhile I look after Dick\u2019s arm.\u201d\nThe policeman worked hurriedly and in a manner that left no doubt in the\nminds of his onlookers that he knew his business. He had just stepped\nback to relieve Sandy when, through the screen of trees ahead, two\nfigures hove into view. Perceiving them, Dick exclaimed softly under his\nbreath.\n\u201cBless, me, if he didn\u2019t come along after all,\u201d gasped Corporal Rand.\n\u201cThe rascal!\u201d\nHands clawing the air, Pierre Mekewai, savage and vindictive-looking\neven in defeat, marched toward them. Ten paces behind, equally savage\nand vindictive-looking, came the Indian\u2019s captor\u2014a young man with a\nbandage wound around his head!\n\u201cBy cripes!\u201d Sandy broke the stillness. \u201cBy Golly, it\u2019s the first time\nthat Toma ever disobeyed an order.\u201d\nCorporal Rand tried to look severe, bit his lips, then presently threw\nback his head and laughed.\n                       GATHERING UP THE THREADS.\nIn the cabin, recently occupied by Donald Frazer, they found the poke.\nIt was the mate to the one Dick had picked up off the floor of the\ntrading room at Half Way House earlier in the day. Frazer\u2019s face fell\nwhen Corporal Rand pulled it out of the pack lying in the corner.\n\u201cGold\u2014sure enough!\u201d the policeman\u2019s eyes sparkled. \u201cYou made a big haul\nfrom somewhere, didn\u2019t you, Frazer?\u201d\nThe prisoner ignored the thrust.\n\u201cI came by it honestly.\u201d\n\u201cGlad to hear that.\u201d\n\u201cIt\u2019s mine and I\u2019m going to have it. You can turn over that other poke\ntoo. Walter MacClaren\u2019s fault I didn\u2019t take it all with me in the first\nplace. He had no right to drive me away from Half Way House at the point\nof a gun. There isn\u2019t a court in the land that wouldn\u2019t exonerate me of\nthe charges you\u2019ll bring against me.\u201d\nCorporal Rand laughed sarcastically.\n\u201cYou talk like a fool.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll see,\u201d growled Frazer. \u201cI\u2019ve a right to fight for my own. No man\ncan keep from me by force what rightfully belongs to me.\u201d\n\u201cAre you referring now to the gold?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cYou really have the nerve to stand there and make an assertion like\nthat?\u201d snapped the corporal \u201cIt was stolen and you know it.\u201d\n\u201cYou can\u2019t prove it.\u201d\n\u201cOh yes, I can. Not very difficult either. The proof is less than a\nhundred yards away.\u201d\nDonald Frazer went deathly pale.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that\u2014hundred yards\u2014you, you\u2014do you know what you\u2019re talking\nabout?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d grimly smiled the policeman. \u201cI do. If you don\u2019t believe me,\nwe\u2019ll go there together and dig it up.\u201d\nFrazer staggered back as if from a blow. Every vestige of color drained\nfrom his cheeks. In terror his hands went up clutching his throat.\n\u201cYou\u2014you know!\u201d The sound that issued from his lips was a low breath of\nagony.\n\u201cYes, I know. A horrible crime! You, Brennan, McCallum and the two\nIndians will have to answer for it, Frazer. Bit by bit, these boys here\nhave unearthed the evidence that will hang you as assuredly as I\u2019m\nstanding here. Miller\u2019s murder will not go unavenged.\u201d\nFrazer crumpled like a leaf and would have fallen had not Sandy caught\nhim. Dick whirled upon the mounted policeman at the mention of the\nmissing prospector\u2019s name, for a full minute not able to speak. He, too,\nwas trembling violently over the very unexpectedness of the revelation.\n\u201cMiller!\u201d he cried, when he had found his voice. \u201cThe man from Caribou\nLake! How do you know that?\u201d\n\u201cBy putting two and two together, Dick,\u201d Corporal Rand answered\nunhesitatingly. \u201cTo you boys belong most of the credit. The evidence I\nhad was inconsequential until it was added to what you had unearthed\nyourselves.\u201d\n\u201cI don\u2019t think I quite understand,\u201d puzzled Dick.\n\u201cVery well then, let\u2019s review the case. Let\u2019s start with Miller, the\nprospector. At Caribou Lake last fall, Miller made a very rich strike.\nBefore the freeze-up, he had taken out over thirty thousand dollars\nworth of gold. He remained at his claim all winter, rigging up\nwindlasses, trapping in his spare time, preparing for the active\nresumption of work in the spring. Late in March, he suddenly decided\nthat he needed more equipment and tools. When Jim Langley visited Miller\nat Caribou Lake on March twenty-third, the latter explained to his\nfriend that he was setting out for Fort Laird on the twenty-fifth, just\ntwo days later. Miller showed Langley two pokes filled with gold\u2014the\ngold he had mined the previous fall\u2014and told Langley that he was taking\nit with him.\n\u201cFrom that point, we almost lose trace of Miller. Setting out by dog\nteam from Caribou Lake, he failed to arrive at his destination. The last\nseen of him was on April third, between Thunder River and Lynx Lake, by\nan Indian named Henri Karek. The prospector was in good health and had\nplenty of grub, the Indian claimed.\n\u201cI do not know whether you remember or not, but between April third and\nApril tenth we had one of the warmest chinooks we have ever experienced\nso early in the year. The trails were running water and most of the snow\nin the open melted. From Lynx Lake to Fort Laird, a distance of\neighty-five miles, there is a lot of open country and two small rivers,\nwhich flood badly during the wet season. Now on the other hand, between\nLynx Lake and Half Way House, a distance of a hundred and twenty miles,\nthere are no rivers at all and the trail threads its way through heavy\nforests that protect the snow.\u201d\nCorporal Rand paused. \u201cDo you follow me?\u201d he asked.\nDick and Sandy nodded eagerly.\n\u201cYes, yes, Corporal. Please go on.\u201d\n\u201cThat chinook will explain why Miller didn\u2019t continue on his way to Fort\nLaird. Swollen rivers to cross, poor trail. Remember he had a sledge and\ndog team.\u201d\n\u201cSo he changed his mind and came on to Half Way House,\u201d Sandy\ninterrupted.\n\u201cNaturally he would,\u201d the policeman replied. \u201cPut yourself in his place.\nWouldn\u2019t you have done the same?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cAnd don\u2019t forget he had two large pokes of gold. Deducing that he came\non to Half Way House, what happened? Well, for one thing, he was robbed.\nIt is something more than mere coincidence that Frazer has, or I should\nsay, had two pokes of gold in his possession. The gold was hidden in a\nsecret place. Isn\u2019t that true?\u201d Corporal Rand addressed Dick.\n\u201cYes, it\u2019s quite true.\u201d\n\u201cNow we\u2019ve come to your discovery of the pit in the cellar. What was in\nthis pit? More gold? No. Furs? Possibly, but not very likely. One need\nnot keep fur so carefully hid. Mr. Frazer, with perfect impunity and no\nfear of detection, could have kept stolen fur in the company\u2019s\nwarehouse. So, by elimination and deduction, we arrive gradually at a\nstartling conclusion, namely that the contents of that pit\u2014something\nthat was kept in two burlap sacks\u2014was even of more importance to Mr.\nFrazer than the gold.\u201d\n\u201cHow did you make that out?\u201d Sandy again interrupted.\n\u201cI\u2019ll prove it to you. When Mr. MacClaren discharged Frazer and drove\nhim away from the post at the point of a gun, there were two things that\nthe latter was unable to take away with him: the gold hid in the office\nand the sacks concealed in the pit. If the gold had been of more value\nto Frazer than the contents of the pit, he\u2019d have tried to get the gold\nfirst, wouldn\u2019t he?\u201d\n\u201cYes, he would,\u201d agreed Sandy.\n\u201cBut instead of trying to get the gold first, he sent the Mekewai\nbrothers to procure the two sacks. Why?\u201d\n\u201cYes, yes, why?\u201d blurted Sandy.\n\u201cBecause he was terribly afraid that in his absence someone would\nstumble upon what he had hidden in the cellar.\u201d\n\u201cI can\u2019t make it out,\u201d Sandy scratched his head. \u201cCan you, Dick?\u201d\n\u201cYes,\u201d Dick whispered through white lips. \u201cI understand now. God help\nthe man that did it. Don\u2019t ask, Sandy\u2014don\u2019t ask. It\u2019s too unutterably\nhorrible. For your own peace of mind, it is better that you should never\nknow.\u201d\nDonald Frazer\u2019s confession, made on the day following his capture,\ncorroborated the statements which had been made by Corporal Rand. The\nactual murder, according to Frazer, had been committed by Pierre and\nHenri Mekewai in the trading room at Half Way House on the night of\nApril 18th, just ten days after the prospector had been seen at Lynx\nLake by the Indian, Henri Karek, and within two hours after his,\nMiller\u2019s, arrival at the post.\n\u201cHe drove in at ten o\u2019clock or very shortly after,\u201d Frazer told them.\n\u201cSince morning it had snowed heavily and the wind had risen almost to a\ngale. There were five of us in the trading room at the time, Wolf\nBrennan, Toby McCallum, the two Mekewai brothers and myself. We had all\nbeen drinking for several hours. The first intimation we had of Miller\u2019s\narrival was when we heard the sound of a sledge outside, then a voice\ncalling through the door. Brennan and McCallum went out and assisted\nMiller to unharness and feed his team and later helped him carry in his\ngrub-box, blankets and the two pokes containing gold. Miller was chilled\nto the bone and had not eaten for twelve hours. He asked me if I could\nget supper for him. He especially wanted a hot cup of tea. He was very\ntired, he said, and wished to get to bed as quickly as possible.\n\u201cI went to the door of the loft to summon my native boy, Meschel, who,\nlike Mr. Scott, had already retired, when Wolf Brennan called me to one\nside, suggesting in an undertone that he would do the work himself.\nImmediately afterward Wolf started for the kitchen, winking at me\ncovertly as he went past. On some pretext or other, I followed him a few\nminutes later, and there in the kitchen, while Wolf brewed the tea and\nprepared the lunch, he told me about the two pokes.\n\u201c\u2018They\u2019re worth thousands\u2019, he informed me. \u2018Gold enough there to buy\nour way into Kingdom Come\u2019.\u201d\n\u201cAt first I was appalled at the thought.\n\u201c\u2018You mean to murder him\u2019?\u201d I asked.\n\u201cWolf told me that that was exactly what he meant. For a few hundred\ndollars and a bottle of rum, he said, the Mekewai boys would be willing\nto slip up behind Miller while he ate and knife him in the back.\n\u201cI told him flatly that I wouldn\u2019t be party to such a crime. I was\nhorrified. The mere thought of it sent cold shivers running down my\nback. But after we had two or three more drinks from a bottle, I looked\nat it differently. For days I had been desperate, wondering where I\ncould get enough money to repay what I had borrowed from company\nfunds\u2014in all about two thousand dollars.\u201d\n\u201cWhy had you borrowed that amount?\u201d interrupted Corporal Rand:\n\u201cMoney I had lost at cards. I had to cover my shortage before the books\nwere audited or else suffer disgrace and probably imprisonment. I lived\nin constant fear of Mr. MacClaren\u2019s coming. Here was a chance to get\nmyself out of a very bad hole. I took it.\u201d\nFrazer lowered his eyes and a deep silence crept over the little room.\n\u201cWithin thirty minutes of the time I came to a decision,\u201d he resumed,\n\u201cthe crime had been committed. Miller\u2019s death was almost instantaneous.\nAt my suggestion, we dug the pit under the floor in the cellar. The\nMekewai boys concealed the body there, were paid their blood-money and\nbottle of rum and went home singing.\u201d\n\u201cSinging!\u201d gasped Dick.\n\u201cYes, they went home singing,\u201d repeated the former factor. \u201cJust as soon\nas they had gone, Brennan, McCallum and I held a short conference and it\nwas decided that I should keep the gold in my possession until it could\nbe sold to advantage. The money received for it would be divided equally\namong the three of us. Before entering the service of the Hudson\u2019s Bay\nCompany I was a cabinetmaker by trade and that night I told them that I\ncould easily construct a wall-cabinet in my office, where we could hide\nthe gold.\n\u201cThe next morning the Mekewai brothers came over before daybreak\u2014as it\nhad been previously planned\u2014to get the dead man\u2019s effects. The dogs were\nsold to an Indian, who resides at Fort Chipewayan, and all the others\nthings were weighted with rocks and sunk through a hole in the ice in\nHalf Way River.\n\u201cMiller\u2019s body was the only thing we had to worry about. As the days\npassed, I began to see that I would never know one moment\u2019s peace as\nlong as the corpse remained in the cellar. My waking hours were filled\nwith grim spectres of fear and horror, with a constant dread of\ndiscovery. The thing preyed upon my mind so much that finally I summoned\nWolf and Toby and explained to them that we must find a safer burial\nplace. The body, I told them, had to be moved. I simply couldn\u2019t stand\nthe worry and suspense any longer. I was rapidly becoming a physical and\nmental wreck. I jumped at my own shadow.\n\u201cBrennan and McCallum endeavored to laugh away my fears, but I was\nobdurate. Wolf pointed out that moving the body again presented unusual\ndifficulties. Even at night there was a chance that someone might see\nus. The days were getting longer, he said. Neither he nor his partner,\nhe made it quite plain, wished to have anything to do with such a\nperilous and unnecessary undertaking.\n\u201cThus the matter rested for several days, and then I had an inspiration.\nAs soon as I could send Mr. Scott away, I hired the Mekewai brothers to\ncome over late at night and dismember the body. They put it in sacks and\nagreed to come back on the following night and take the sacks away and\nbury them.\u201d\nFrazer paused, wiping his perspiring face.\n\u201cWe could not carry out this plan because on the very next morning these\nthree boys appeared. I can not begin to tell you, Corporal Rand, how\ntheir coming startled me. I was afraid that the mounted police had in\nsome mysterious way got wind of the murder and had sent them here to spy\nupon me. I recalled that during the previous summer the boys had\nassisted you in solving the Dewberry case. By the end of the week,\nfrantic, desperate, I began to plan how I could get them to leave the\npost without arousing their suspicions.\u201d\nAgain Frazer paused and again, he daubed at his flushed sweat-streaked\nface.\n\u201cI need not tell you how I eventually succeeded. You all know what\nsubsequently occurred. But I was afraid even when the boys departed for\nthe island of the dinosaur that they could see into my little game and\nwould return as soon as they were out of sight of the post. In order to\nmake sure on this point, I sent Brennan and McCallum to watch them\nclosely and prevent them from coming back again.\n\u201cStrange as it may seem, I had no opportunity during the next few weeks\nto remove Miller\u2019s body from the cellar. People dropped in at the post\nunexpectedly. Mr. Stearns, an old friend of mine, came up from Fort\nVermilion and remained with me for several days. No sooner had he left\nthan a party of prospectors arrived on the scene and camped in the trees\njust outside the trading room for a full week. Then you put in an\nappearance, Corporal, and _within two hours of your departure Mr.\nMacClaren walked in upon me_.\u201d\nStartled by these disclosures, Sandy leaned over and whispered in Dick\u2019s\near:\n\u201cDivine interference! And some people doubt the existence of God!\u201d\n\u201cPlease continue with your confession,\u201d the policeman instructed Frazer.\n\u201cI have nothing more to tell.\u201d\nCorporal Rand turned his head thoughtfully and looked out of the window.\nAnother deep silence pervaded the room.\n\u201cDoes old Bill Willison know anything about the murder of Miller?\u201d he\nasked finally.\nFrazer shook his head. \u201cNo, not a thing. He\u2019s as innocent as a babe. He\ndoesn\u2019t enter into this case at all except in a small way. He lives in a\ncabin now along the lower stretches of Half Way River. When Wolf and\nToby lost their canoe, they walked back in the woods to Willison\u2019s place\nand hired him to take them up river in pursuit of these boys. On the\nway, they conceived the plan of dressing Willison like a wild man and\nfrightening the boys so badly that they would leave the course of the\nriver and strike off toward Fort Good Faith.\u201d\n\u201cIt didn\u2019t work, did it?\u201d glared Sandy.\n\u201cNo comments, please!\u201d came the corporal\u2019s sharp reprimand.\n\u201cYou set fire to the warehouse.\u201d The policeman turned again to Frazer.\n\u201cYes, it was a ruse to get Scott and these boys out of the post.\u201d\n\u201cDid you instruct Pierre Mekewai to shoot at Dick that night Dick stood\nnear the window of the loft?\u201d\n\u201cNo, Corporal, I did not. Those instructions were issued by Wolf Brennan\nwho bore this young man a grudge.\u201d\n\u201cWho threw the knife that wounded young John Toma?\u201d\n\u201cHenri Mekewai.\u201d\n\u201cBy your orders?\u201d\n\u201cNo, sir. I knew nothing about it until afterwards.\u201d\nCorporal Rand gathered up the sheets of foolscap on the desk in front of\nhim.\n\u201cI have your confession here, Mr. Frazer, word for word, just as you\nhave told it to us. Are there any other statements you wish to make\napropos of this case?\u201d\nFrazer raised his head and for the first time that afternoon he looked\nstraight into the eyes of his questioner.\n\u201cWith your permission, Corporal,\u201d he stated in a hollow, choking voice,\n\u201cI\u2019d like to say that heinous as my crime is and black as my character\nmay seem to you, I am ready and willing to pay the penalty. I want you\nall to know that I hold no brief for myself, expect no sympathy or\nmercy. On the other hand, I\u2019d like to have you understand, to believe\nsomehow, that here at the last I am a changed man, an altogether\ndifferent person than he who was one of the slayers of Conroy Miller.\nBefore God, now that it is too late, I am deeply and sincerely sorry.\nCrime is a terrible thing, Corporal, and if I had my life to live again\nI swear to you\u2014\u2014\u201d\nIn the middle of a sentence, Frazer stopped short, sank back in his\nchair and covered his face with his hands. In the deep silence that\nfollowed Dick looked searchingly at Sandy and together they rose and\ntip-toed out of the room. They did not pause until they had reached the\npath, leading to the river.\n\u201cHow sweet and cool the air is outside,\u201d remarked Sandy.\nCorporal Rand met the three boys just outside the trading room. He, too,\nbreathed deeply of the cool, sweet air, his eyes shining with relief.\n\u201cWell,\u201d he announced smiling, \u201cthe worst is over. Five prisoners in safe\ncustody and everyone of them has confessed. The Mekewai brothers were\nmore reticent than the other three, but I have enough evidence to hang\nthem all. Another case has gone down in the police records.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps if we had known,\u201d grinned Sandy, \u201cwe might not have come at\nall. What about it, Toma?\u201d\nThe young Indian moved over and sat down on the bench, his thoughtful,\ndark eyes turned toward the fringe of poplar and balsam that ran in a\nzig-zag line around the natural clearing that harbored the white, log\nbuilding of the great fur company. For a moment he did not speak.\n\u201cI think I come anyway,\u201d he answered finally. \u201cI like alla time plenty\nmove around. Plenty excitement, too, once in a while.\u201d\n\u201cWell you got the excitement,\u201d grunted Sandy. \u201cEnough to do for a long\ntime. You can be thankful that this job is finished.\u201d\n\u201cMebbe not so thankful like you think,\u201d Toma retorted evasively.\nCorporal Rand looked up in surprise.\n\u201cYou must like fighting better than I do,\u201d he smiled. \u201cIn my line of\nduty I\u2019m forced into it sometimes, but just between you and me, I\u2019d\nprefer staying out. Now tell us, Toma, why you\u2019re not glad that our\ntroubles are all over.\u201d\n\u201cI am glad,\u201d the young Indian objected. \u201cPretty hard for me I try to\nmake you understand. Mebbe you no feel like I feel. What you say if bad\nfellow come up, sneaking like coyote, an\u2019 make \u2019em scar on your head\nthat stay there till you die? How you like it stay all night in woods\nalla same dead man? Make me more mad than ever I feel before. I like do\nto that Mekewai fellow just what he do to me. No chance now. No chance I\never fight that man again. Tomorrow, next day mebbe, all these bad\nfellows you take away to Mackenzie Barracks an\u2019 I no see \u2019em any more.\u201d\nIt was a long speech for Toma. Dick and Sandy looked at him in\nastonishment while Corporal Rand moved over, sat down beside him and in\na friendly way, threw one arm over his heaving shoulders.\n\u201cI understand what you mean,\u201d he said kindly. \u201cBut you mustn\u2019t forget\nthat this Henri Mekewai will be punished for all his misdeeds. He has\nmany crimes to answer for. You mustn\u2019t feel that way about it. You\nhelped to capture him, Toma, and that is surely revenge enough.\u201d\n\u201cBut he no carry scar on his head,\u201d the young Indian pointed out.\n\u201cTrue enough. But he carries other scars that one can\u2019t see. His heart\nand soul are scarred with wickedness and, no doubt, he will be compelled\nto pay the life penalty.\u201d\nKnowing something of the Indian\u2019s point of view, in his own mind, Dick\ndid not blame Toma for the stand he took. An eye for an eye and a tooth\nfor a tooth. It had been bred in Toma, was the product of generations of\nsavage, relentless ancestors\u2014part of the Indian\u2019s code.\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know you were so blood-thirsty, Toma,\u201d Sandy poked fun at him.\n\u201cYou mustn\u2019t think of such things.\u201d\nToma averted his eyes, flushing under the criticism.\n\u201cI think alla time about that scar,\u201d he said.\nThe policeman drummed thoughtfully on the bench for a moment, then again\nhe addressed the young man beside him.\n\u201cYes, Toma, you must forget. If you\u2019ll promise me to overlook this\nslight, I\u2019ll give you and Sandy a chance to earn a little extra police\npay during the next two weeks. Tomorrow I will be compelled to take my\nfive prisoners back to the Mackenzie River Barracks. You and Sandy can\nrender me valuable aid by accompanying my party. I hate to take any\nchance of losing them now. One can\u2019t be too careful. They are dangerous\ncriminals, desperate men all, and would take the first chance offered\nthem for a break for liberty.\u201d\nThe young Indian\u2019s eyes brightened.\n\u201cThank you, Corporal, I like that very much.\u201d\n\u201cTwo weeks at full police pay. I\u2019m giving you and Sandy this chance\nbecause on the last occasion it was Dick who helped me.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s splendid of you, Corporal,\u201d Sandy\u2019s face was beaming. \u201cI\u2019d like\nto hear what Inspector Cameron says when we bring them in. Aren\u2019t you\njealous, Dick?\u201d\nDick laughed. \u201cNo, Sandy, the arrangements suits me perfectly. The\nexperiences of the past few days have been so vigorous that I am ready\nto take a short vacation. I shall wait here till you return.\u201d\nThe mounted policeman rose preparatory to entering the trading post.\n\u201cVery well, then, that is the understanding. You, Toma, and Sandy are to\naccompany me. We\u2019ll leave here at six o\u2019clock, journeying up the river\nin two canoes as far as Painter\u2019s Ferry, where we will disembark and\nproceed eastward overland to the Mackenzie River Trail. When we reach\nMoose Lake, I think I can arrange for horses to take us the remainder of\nthe way. I left my own mount at Painter\u2019s Ferry.\u201d\n\u201cHow long do you think it will take us to make the trip?\u201d Sandy asked\neagerly.\n\u201cAbout seven days. I\u2019ve made it in five on a hurried patrol, but with\nthe prisoners, of course, we\u2019ll not be able to travel quite so fast.\u201d\n\u201cI can expect Sandy and Toma back here then in about twelve or fourteen\ndays?\u201d Dick asked anxiously.\n\u201cYes, it will take about that long. I suppose, Dick, that you will put\nin your time fishing.\u201d\nWhen Dick shook his head, Sandy broke out into a roar of merriment.\n\u201cDick\u2019s had all the fishing he wants in one summer,\u201d he explained to the\ncorporal. \u201cWhen we were down river, just after leaving the island of the\ndinosaur, we lost all our grub and had to fish or go hungry.\u201d\nCorporal Rand smiled. \u201cI had almost forgotten. Well, anyway, I\u2019m not\nworrying about Dick being utterly bored anywhere. He\u2019ll find plenty to\nkeep him busy.\u201d\nBright and early on the following morning, Corporal Rand led out the\nfive prisoners in preparation for their departure. All arrangements had\nbeen completed. At the river, drawn up alongside the landing wharf, were\ntwo large canoes, packed with grub for the journey to Painter\u2019s Ferry.\nIt had been arranged that four men would go in each canoe, Donald\nFrazer, Wolf Brennan, Pierre Mekewai and Corporal Rand in one, Henri\nMekewai, Toby McCallum, Sandy and Toma in the other. The prisoners were\nto furnish the motive power for the two crafts. Not only would this keep\nthem out of mischief, but it would give their guards a better\nopportunity to watch for any attempt at treachery. As a further\nprecaution, no rifles were to be taken. Sandy and Toma carried revolvers\nin holsters strapped under their left armpits with coats worn over them.\nAn inquisitive, jabbering crowd followed them to the boat landing. Upon\ntheir arrival there, Corporal Rand ordered the prisoners to their\nrespective canoes, and while this command was being carried out, a most\nunusual thing happened. Instead of stepping into the canoe, Henri\nMekewai, the last one to move forward to take his place, suddenly\nlurched forward and leaped straight into the river.\nThe action was totally unexpected. By the time Dick and the Corporal had\nsprung to the end of the wharf, the Indian was thirty feet away, his\nlong arms cutting the water with quick powerful strokes. A sudden\nsplash, and he had negotiated the swift inshore current, where he\nhalf-raised from the water, took a deep breath and dove out of sight.\nWhile Dick stood dazed by the quickness of it all, he heard a quick\npattering of feet behind him and turned his head just in time to see\nToma executing a graceful, running leap that carried him flying through\nthe air and into the river a full twenty feet from the wharf.\nHis next vivid impression was of Corporal Rand. Revolver in hand, the\npoliceman stepped into the nearest canoe, calling out as he did so:\n\u201cSandy, Dick\u2014watch the other boat while I go out and fetch Mekewai!\u201d\nThen to the three prisoners: \u201cYour paddles, men, and hurry! I\u2019ll shoot\nthe first one who doesn\u2019t do his duty. Now\u2014!\u201d\nThe craft shot forward. One eye on the prisoner, Dick watched the\nprogress, excitement tugging at his heart. He was sure now that Henri\nMekewai had made his escape. On various occasions, he had witnessed\nremarkable feats of endurance and prowess of Indian swimmers. He feared\nthat Toma had no chance to overtake his enemy. Out there in the current,\nhe could see two bobbing heads about forty feet apart. Two bobbing heads\nsweeping quickly down the stream.\n\u201cLook, Dick!\u201d Sandy shouted. \u201cToma is gaining! He\u2019ll catch him yet\nbefore the canoe gets there. Look, look, Dick!\u201d\nA cold shiver suddenly struck its icy fingers through Dick\u2019s chest. For\na moment he doubted the evidence of his senses. For the first time, he\nnoticed something that previously had escaped his attention. As Toma\nraised one arm in a desperate forward stroke, in the bright sun he\ncaught the glint of steel.\nHe could see more easily now. Toma was swimming with a knife grasped\nfirmly in his right hand. Like a flash, there came to Dick a horrible\nrealization. The young Indian was planning his revenge! An eye for an\neye and a tooth for a tooth. The memory of that insidious attack in the\nwoods near the Mission Trail apparently burned in his mind with undimmed\nfury. An insult and injury never to be forgotten!\nSick at heart, the two silent watchers on the wharf, half turned and\ngazed solemnly into each other\u2019s tense, set faces.\n\u201cOnce an Indian, always an Indian,\u201d blurted Sandy. \u201cI\u2019m afraid Toma is\ngoing to break _his_ promise to Corporal Rand.\u201d\nToma overtook Henri Mekewai in mid-stream and, with arm upraised\nbrandishing the knife, checked the other\u2019s flight until Corporal Rand\nand the canoe arrived. Not until the two swimmers were pulled aboard did\nDick\u2019s tension relax. He was glad that it was all over, relieved beyond\nmeasure that Toma had not committed his rash act. He stepped back from\nthe edge of the wharf, breathing a sigh of relief. He knew now that not\nin vain had the young Indian given his promise to Corporal Rand.\n\u201cI was afraid for a minute,\u201d he heard Sandy\u2019s voice. \u201cTerribly afraid,\nDick. I thought that in the excitement of the moment, Toma might forget\nhimself. I can see now that he didn\u2019t pull out that knife to attack\nHenri Mekewai. Merely wanted to defend himself. And I don\u2019t blame him\neither. I\u2019d hate to be in a similar position without some means of\nprotection.\u201d\n\u201cSo would I,\u201d Dick agreed. \u201cHe showed good judgment, that is all, and\nquick thinking in a time of emergency. Just the same, for a moment it\nlooked as if he really intended to use that knife.\u201d\nSandy laughed relievedly. \u201cNeither one of us would have thought a thing\nabout it if we hadn\u2019t remembered what Toma had said about carrying that\nscar. But we should have known him better than to believe that he really\nwould break his promise to Corporal Rand.\u201d\nThe canoe was returning now. It sped back toward the landing and, a\nshort time later breasting the current, shot inshore, coming to a full\nstop next to the other craft. Rand\u2019s voice rang out sharply:\n\u201cToma, we\u2019ll wait here while you run up to the post to get a change of\nclothes. While you\u2019re up there, you\u2019d better procure another revolver\nfrom Mr. Scott and a box of ammunition. It\u2019s poor policy to take a\nchance with wet cartridges.\u201d\nToma grinned as he stepped ashore. \u201cAll right, Corporal, I go hurry.\u201d\nIn a moment more he had sped away through the crowd, the object of\nadmiration and respect on the part of the half score of Indians and\nhalf-breeds that thronged the landing wharf.\n\u201cPretty close call,\u201d Rand looked over at Dick. \u201cTook me wholly unawares.\nKeep my eyes open next time.\u201d\n\u201cWeren\u2019t you afraid for a time?\u201d Dick asked.\n\u201cAfraid of what?\u201d\n\u201cThat Toma would use that knife,\u201d Dick answered.\n\u201cNo, not in the least. He\u2019d given me his promise. I was sure he wouldn\u2019t\nattack Mekewai unless it was to prevent him from escaping. As a matter\nof fact, he held the prisoner for nearly twenty seconds there in\nmid-stream until we arrived. If it hadn\u2019t been for him, I fully believe\nthat Mekewai would have contrived to reach the opposite shore. A\nsplendid swimmer.\u201d\n\u201cBut not as good as Toma,\u201d Sandy pointed out.\n\u201cThat was proved beyond a shadow of a doubt. All right, Sandy, slip into\nthe other canoe and we\u2019ll be on our way as soon as Toma returns. Pierre,\nyou get in beside Sandy.\u201d\nFor a moment the policeman grew grim. \u201cFor the benefit of the rest of\nyou prisoners,\u201d he glared around him, \u201cI\u2019d like to say that if another\nperson attempts to escape, I\u2019ll show no mercy. I\u2019ll shoot the next man\nwho tries it.\u201d\nWolf Brennan raised his shaggy head and looked straight over at the\nstern guardian of the law.\n\u201cI won\u2019t answer fer the rest of them, Corporal, but yuh can bank on me.\u201d\n\u201cGood for you, Wolf.\u201d\n\u201cAn\u2019 me too,\u201d said Toby McCallum.\n\u201cThank you, Toby.\u201d\n\u201cIf it ain\u2019t out of order,\u201d Brennan spoke again, \u201cI\u2019m kind o\u2019 curious\ntuh know just where you\u2019re takin\u2019 us.\u201d\n\u201cMackenzie Barracks,\u201d snapped the officer.\nFor a period of nearly ten minutes, conversation waned. Sandy had taken\nhis place in the canoe and kept glancing back toward the trading post,\nlooking for Toma.\n\u201cDon\u2019t be so impatient, Sandy,\u201d Dick advised him. \u201cHe\u2019ll be along\npresently. When you get there, give my respects to Inspector Cameron.\u201d\n\u201cRighto!\u201d\nA well-known figure made his way along the path from the warehouse. Not\nlong afterward, the young Indian, attired in dry clothing and grinning\nbroadly, took his place in the canoe beside Sandy. The order was given\nto start. Paddles dipped in the water.\n\u201cGood-bye, Dick, good-bye!\u201d shrieked Sandy and Toma.\n\u201cGood-bye,\u201d Dick answered, feeling suddenly very lonely and out of it.\nCorporal Rand turned, smiled and waved his hand.\n\u201cKeep out of mischief, Dick,\u201d he advised him.\n\u201cI\u2019ll try to,\u201d responded Dick.\nTo the surprise of everyone, Wolf Brennan swung half way around and\nleered back toward shore.\n\u201cDon\u2019t go diggin\u2019 up no more dinosaur\u2019s bones,\u201d he called out mockingly,\nwhile Toby McCallum bent forward and gave vent to a cackling, jarring\nlaugh.\nOn that instant, Dick\u2019s face shadowed and he bit his lips. The threat\nhad gone home. So they had thrown that up to him? His hands clenched as\nhe turned about facing the tittering crowd.\nDinosaur\u2019s bones! Like a ghost of the past, it had come up to haunt him.\nThe memory was not a very pleasant one. The picture burned in his\nmind\u2014three credulous young men starting out on a fool\u2019s errand. How\neasily they had all been taken in. A mere child, he reasoned bitterly,\nwould have known better. Eyes straight to the fore, he strode angrily\nacross the landing and up the familiar, well-beaten, path.\n\u201cI\u2019ll show them yet,\u201d he blurted angrily to himself. \u201cI\u2019ll make it my\nbusiness to wipe out that disgrace if it\u2019s the last thing I do.\u201d\nIn the trading room, Mr. Scott awaited him.\n\u201cWell, have they gone?\u201d he inquired eagerly.\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered Dick, forcing a smile, \u201cthey\u2019re on their way now.\u201d\n\u201cTheir start wasn\u2019t very propitious, was it?\u201d The factor moved back to\nthe counter.\n\u201cNo,\u201d\u2014glumly.\n\u201cWhy Dick,\u201d accused the factor, \u201cyou look as if you hadn\u2019t a hope in the\nworld. I wouldn\u2019t worry if I were you. Your friends will return safely.\nTwo weeks isn\u2019t very long, Dick, when you stop to consider.\u201d\n\u201cI wasn\u2019t thinking of that. I\u2014I mean I know they will. It isn\u2019t that.\u201d\n\u201cFor goodness sake, then, what is the matter?\u201d\nDick slumped into a chair, removed his hat and ran his fingers through\nhis hair.\n\u201cMr. Scott,\u201d he began, \u201cwe\u2019ve been pretty good friends and I\u2019m going to\ntake you into my confidence. Something is troubling me. Perhaps you can\nhelp. Perhaps\u2014\u2014\u201d he paused, regarding the other perplexedly.\n\u201cYou can depend on me,\u201d the other did not hesitate. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d\n\u201cIt concerns the dinosaur.\u201d\n\u201cDinosaur!\u201d gasped the factor.\n\u201cYes. I\u2019ve decided that I\u2019m going to do something about it. Have you\never seen it, Mr. Scott?\u201d\nThe factor shook his head. \u201cNo, never,\u201d he answered. \u201cI\u2019ve heard of it\nthough. I was here two years ago when Donald Frazer went up to look at\nit. Quite a curiosity, I believe.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re right. It is. It must be a very valuable fossil. I believe that\nFrazer was right when he told us, Sandy, Toma and me, that it was very\nvaluable. No doubt, some museum somewhere would be glad to pay real\nmoney for it.\u201d\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t wonder. But what are you driving at, Dick? You\u2019re the most\nrestless scamp I ever saw. Exactly what is on your mind now?\u201d\n\u201cI\u2019d like to make a contract with someone to take that dinosaur\noutside\u2014to sell it.\u201d\n\u201cIs it because you are short of money? If you are, I\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\u201cNo,\u201d Dick interrupted, \u201cthat isn\u2019t it at all. I want to take out that\ndinosaur for reasons of my own, Mr. Scott.\u201d\n\u201cYou\u2019re really serious about this?\u201d\n\u201cNever more serious in my life.\u201d\n\u201cWell what do you want me to do to help you?\u201d\n\u201cFirst of all, I want your advice. Just for the sake of\nargument\u2014supposing that it were humanly possible to remove the skeleton\nfrom that island\u2014where could one be likely to sell it?\u201d\nMr. Scott pursed his lips and gazed at Dick thoughtfully.\n\u201cWell I must confess that that\u2019s a big order. Guess I\u2019ll have to think\nit over. Have a sleep on it. No, wait a minute! Tell you, Dick, what I\u2019d\ndo if I were in your shoes and really wanted to sell that dinosaur. I\u2019d\nwrite to the Canadian Geographical Society at Toronto and get their\nadvice. They know all about such things. Just the sort of project they\u2019d\nbe interested in.\u201d\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said Dick, his eyes shining. \u201cI appreciate your suggestion.\nNow we come to the really difficult part. Supposing that the society\nreally is interested, how in the name of all that\u2019s worth while am I\ngoing to solve the problem of transporting\u2014conveying it outside?\nRemember the thing must weigh tons.\u201d\n\u201cAs large as that?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\nThe factor wrinkled his nose in perplexity. \u201cThat lets out a raft or\ncanoe. Why not build a scow?\u201d\nFor a moment, Dick\u2019s heart leaped. Then suddenly he became serious\nagain.\n\u201cNo, that wouldn\u2019t do either. Even a scow would be battered hopelessly\nabout in the rapids. The dinosaur, unless very carefully taken apart and\ncrated\u2014and I wouldn\u2019t know how to do that\u2014could not be carried over the\nportages. And even if it could be, you couldn\u2019t portage a scow. If you\nlet it go through the rapids, it would be broken up. Remember, too, that\nyou are bucking an upstream current. What motive power would you use for\nthe scow?\u201d\nMr. Scott threw up his hands in a gesture of mock despair.\n\u201cEnough! Enough!\u201d he cried. \u201cI can see now that a scow is out of the\nquestion.\u201d\n\u201cAt the same time,\u201d puzzled Dick, \u201cit wasn\u2019t a bad suggestion. As you\nknow, the skeleton of the dinosaur is on an island in the center of a\nlake. We could build a scow to take it to shore. But what to do with it\nafter we got it there, is more than I can tell you. I\u2019ve racked my\nbrains trying to figure it all out. From the lake of the dinosaur to Big\nRock River, a tributary of the Peace, is over five hundred miles. There\nare no trails. Even if we had plenty of horses and wagons, it would be\nabsolutely impossible to take the dinosaur out that way.\u201d\n\u201cI give up,\u201d sighed the factor. \u201cFrom what you have told me, that\ndinosaur seems to be pretty safe from molestation. It\u2019s a hard problem,\nand just now I can\u2019t think of any solution. Why bother with it, Dick?\nThe game isn\u2019t worth the candle.\u201d\nDick shook his head stubbornly. \u201cThere must be some way. Nothing is\nimpossible. I won\u2019t give up yet. I won\u2019t!\u201d\nMr. Scott was surprised at the other\u2019s vehemence. He stared at Dick\nwonderingly, then turned and strode over to the door. Just then a\ncustomer came in and the subject was dropped. His brows puckered, Dick\nlounged to the door and looked outside.\n\u201cHang the luck!\u201d he whispered to himself. \u201cThe farther I get into this\nthing, the more difficult it appears.\u201d\nWith an impatient, angry gesture, he yanked his hat down over his eyes\nand strode outside.\nOn the next day, the routine and monotony of life at the post was broken\nby the arrival of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company\u2019s steamer from Painter\u2019s\nFerry. It carried a cargo of merchandise and the bi-monthly mail for\npersons residing at the post and vicinity. Dick was on hand when it hove\nto and tied up at the landing. Factor Scott was also there and waved his\nhand at the pilot, Captain Morrison, who stood near the rail while the\ngang plank was lowered. A moment later, a crowd of passengers trooped\ndown to the shore. Dick followed the factor who went aboard to speak to\nthe captain.\n\u201cYou\u2019re a day ahead of your schedule,\u201d he smiled as they shook hands.\nCaptain Morrison was a grizzled veteran of twenty years\u2019 continuous\nservice with the great fur company. Few men knew the North better than\nhe. On the Athabasca, the Peace and the Mackenzie Rivers and Great Slave\nLake he had passed a long and eventful career. Scarcely a white person\nin the North that he had not met at some time or other. He smiled when\nhe saw Dick, stepped forward and extended a brawny hand.\n\u201cPerhaps you don\u2019t remember me, my boy. You\u2019re Dick Kent, aren\u2019t you? I\nwas at Peace River Crossing two years ago when you made that flight from\nnear Fort Good Faith to the Crossing in that airplane with that fire\nranger.\u201d\n\u201cAt the time of the small-pox epidemic,\u201d Dick recalled. \u201cI remember you\nnow.\u201d\n\u201cI had the _Northern Queen_ then. My run was from Fort Vermilion to\nHudson\u2019s Hope. Got transferred up here this spring.\u201d\nMorrison turned for a moment to call out instructions to the first mate,\nthen resumed:\n\u201cStill assisting the police?\u201d\n\u201cOccasionally,\u201d answered Dick.\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I thought. We passed Corporal Rand, Mr. Frazer and a number\nof others in two canoes. Where are they bound for?\u201d\n\u201cMackenzie Barracks,\u201d answered Mr. Scott.\n\u201cFrazer accompanying the policeman?\u201d\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\u201cHad some trouble here?\u201d persisted the captain.\nIt was a little difficult for Mr. Scott to explain the circumstances. He\nhesitated, looking at Dick.\n\u201cYou have guessed correctly, Captain Morrison. Donald Frazer, the former\nfactor here, has been arrested for complicity in the murder of Conroy\nMiller, a prospector. The motive was robbery. With the exception of the\ntwo young men you might have noticed in one of the canoes, all the\nothers in the party were implicated.\u201d\nCaptain Morrison stalked to the rail and looked down at the scene of\nactivity below. His mouth twitched and he wiped his perspiring face with\na shaky hand.\n\u201cGood Heavens! I never would have suspected\u2014it is hard to\nbelieve\u2014Frazer! The last person on earth I\u2019d associate with such a\ncrime.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d Mr. Scott admitted. \u201cHe\u2019s changed a lot in the last two\nor three years. Gambling and drinking led up to it. He was pressed for\nmoney, had appropriated funds belonging to the company.\u201d\n\u201cWeren\u2019t two of those prisoners Toby McCallum and Wolf Brennan? Seems to\nme I recognized them.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s who they were. The others were Henri and Pierre Mekewai, two\nIndians.\u201d\n\u201cNever heard of the Indians, but Toby McCallum and Wolf Brennan I know\nwell. Very unscrupulous, both of them. At one time, about ten years ago,\nthey worked under me. I was on the Athabasca then. My run was from\nGruard to Athabasca Landing. Lazy, impertinent, light fingered. I had\nthe devil\u2019s own time with them. Finally forced to dismiss them from my\nemploy.\u201d\n\u201cHow far do you run up the river?\u201d Dick asked, hoping to change the\nsubject.\n\u201cI go as far as Big Rock Lake. During high water, occasionally I go down\nBig Rock River which flows into the Peace.\u201d\nDick started. \u201cYou mean to say, Captain, that in high water you can run\nyour steamer clear from here to Peace River Crossing?\u201d\n\u201cQuite right, my boy. A month ago I could have done it quite easily. But\nnot now. Under the present arrangement, all the supplies for these\nnorthern posts in this immediate territory, are freighted across country\nfrom Peace to Big Rock Lake. Costs the company a pile of money, too. If\nthe cost wasn\u2019t so prohibitive, we would deepen the channel in Big Rock\nRiver.\u201d\nAt this juncture, Morrison was called away to supervise the work of\nunloading cargo stored in the hold. Dick and Mr. Scott watched the\nproceedings for a time, then turned and retraced their steps to the\npost.\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know how hard it was to tell Captain Morrison about Frazer,\u201d\nconfided the latter. \u201cHe and Frazer were pretty close friends at one\ntime, I believe. I\u2019ve often heard the former factor speak of him in\nrather laudatory terms.\u201d\n\u201cIt was quite a shock to him. You could see that. By the way, when does\nCaptain Morrison make the return trip to Big Rock Lake?\u201d\n\u201cEarly tomorrow morning. He always ties up here for the night. All\nafternoon they\u2019ll be loading cordwood which, as you know, they use for\nfuel. Also, I have nearly two hundred bales of fur ready for shipment.\u201d\nSo, as was his usual custom, the grizzled pilot of the North\u2019s great\nwaterways remained at Half Way House for the night. Dick spent the\nafternoon in a futile wandering about, still pondering over the problem\nof the dinosaur. The captain\u2019s statement, that in the spring, when water\nwas high, his steamer could proceed as far south as Peace River\nCrossing, filled him with unbounded joy. If only he could think of some\nway\u2014some plan by which he could bring the fossil from the Lake of Many\nIslands to Half Way House, his perplexity would be at an end.\n\u201cIt can\u2019t be impossible,\u201d he kept repeating to himself over and over in\na monotonous, mournful undertone. \u201cI simply must think of some way\nbefore the boys return.\u201d\nBut how? Almost within his reach, that remaining barrier of three\nhundred miles of wilderness held him from his goal. The thought was\nmaddening. Restless as a sprite, he paced back and forth between the\npost and the river at least twenty times. Again he considered Mr.\nScott\u2019s suggestion regarding a scow. Wasn\u2019t there some way of pushing or\nhauling such an unwieldy craft through the rapids opposite the portages?\nFor a time, he seriously considered the advisability of a gasoline motor\nin the scow.\nOf all the plans that had come into his mind, the last seemed most\nfeasible. Yet, it had its drawbacks too. In the first place, he didn\u2019t\nhave a motor or the gasoline with which to run it. It would cost a lot\nof money and a good deal of time would elapse before he could even hope\nto try out his plan. In case that it should prove to be impracticable,\nhe would be out a good sum of money and no nearer a workable solution.\nAfter supper, he sat in the dining room, still pondering the question.\nHe could hear Captain Morrison and Mr. Scott conversing in low tones at\nthe opposite side of the room. Now and again, a word or phrase came to\nhim. Tonight Captain Morrison was in a reminiscent mood and he regaled\nhis host with many tales of a long lifetime spent in the northern\nCanadian wilderness. His voice droned on and on happily. Occasionally he\nlapsed into thoughtful silences, industriously sucking his pipe. The\nroom was pleasantly warm and Dick felt tired and sleepy.\nHe rose lazily to his feet and went to a window and looked out. He was\nstanding close to Captain Morrison now and could hear every word that\nwas being said. In spite of himself, he became interested.\n\u201cIn 1904, I think it was,\u201d Morrison paused for a moment, puffing at his\npipe. \u201cYes, 1904. I was running on this river same as I am now. A\ndifferent steamer though, the _Lady Marian_. Trim little vessel she was\nand, at that time, the fastest boat that ever headed into these northern\nwaters. She was new and spick as a pin. I was proud of her. I wasn\u2019t a\nbit ashamed when that distinguished party of Hudson\u2019s Bay officials, I\nwas telling you about, came out here from London, England on their round\nof inspection.\n\u201cThere were a couple of Lords and an Earl or two in that party. I picked\nthem up at Big Rock Lake and steamed up here for Half Way House in one\nof the worst storms I have ever seen. It had rained steady for six days.\nRiver flowing like a torrent. Drift bumping up against us every few\nminutes. So nasty outside that not one of the party could come out on\ndeck. Thermometer dropping every hour. That was in April, too\u2014the tail\nend of the month. My second trip since the ice went out. Near Painter\u2019s\nFerry I was standing in the bow, watching the drift, when I heard\nsomeone come up behind me and felt a hand on my arm. I turned, and so\nhelp me Bob, if it wasn\u2019t the commissioner himself.\n\u201c\u2018When do we arrive at Half Way House?\u2019 he asked me.\n\u201c\u2018In about six more hours,\u2019 I told him.\n\u201cHe nodded to me, pinched my arm in a friendly way and went below. I\nkept watching the drift until the dark came. All the time the storm was\nincreasing. The rain turned into a wet, blinding snow. It kept getting\ncolder every minute. I was afraid of the drift and slowed down until I\nwas barely drifting with the current.\n\u201cWith the engines quiet and the darkness growing more and more intense,\nI began to see that I could never make Half Way House in six hours. So I\nwent below and explained my difficulties. The commissioner was a very\ngrave man and a little impatient at the delay.\n\u201c\u2018Why don\u2019t you put on a little more steam?\u2019 he asked me.\n\u201c\u2018I\u2019m afraid of crashing into the drift,\u2019 I told him.\n\u201cHe hesitated, twirled the ends of his waxed mustache and turned to the\nrest of the party.\n\u201c\u2018Are you gentlemen willing to take the risk?\u2019 he inquired. \u2018If you are,\nI\u2019ll give the captain here instructions to go ahead more quickly.\u2019\n\u201cThere wasn\u2019t a dissenting voice. They were all anxious, it seemed, to\nget on to their destination. I went down and gave the engineer his\norders.\n\u201c\u2018Full steam ahead,\u2019 I said a little angrily. \u2018Give her all you\u2019ve got.\nThe commissioner and his party are in a hurry to get to Half Way House.\u2019\n\u201cSoon after, when I went to the deck, the _Lady Marian_ was thundering\nunder my feet like a huge locomotive. We drove straight into a head\nwind, a furious storm of sleet and snow. It kept me busy trying to\nfigure out where I was. Every little while, I was compelled to take\nsoundings. The minutes and the hours slipped on. The night was black as\na crow\u2019s wing. Snow piling up in drifts along the deck\u2014slippery as ice.\nStill no sight of Half Way House. I couldn\u2019t see a light twinkling. I\nwas certain that we must be close upon it by that time and finally I\nrang orders to the engineer to slow down and, a few minutes later, to\nstop altogether.\n\u201cNearly frozen, I stood there like a lost child gazing out through the\nstorm. One thing that worried me was the rate of speed we were drifting.\nI had never seen the current so swift here before. It literally boiled\naround us. When the steamer went forward again, the velocity of the\ncurrent increased. Then two miles farther on, it became steadier, less\nprecipitous.\n\u201cFor a long time I stood out there on the deck, shivering, weary,\ndisgusted, unable to account for the phenomenon. I knew the river like\nyou gentlemen know a book. I had never run into anything like that\nbefore. Between Painter\u2019s Ferry and Half Way House, such a current\nsimply did not exist. Then suddenly, like a clap out of a blue sky, it\nstruck me all at once. I got so blamed mad that I felt like jumping\noverboard. For the first time in all my life, I had committed an\nunpardonable error.\u201d\n\u201cWhat was it?\u201d asked Dick, unable to contain himself any longer.\nWith maddening deliberateness, the old river man silently filled and\nrelighted his pipe. He turned toward his young questioner and grinned\nbroadly.\n\u201cIn the terrific storm and darkness,\u201d he explained, \u201cI had run\ncompletely past Half Way House and down an uncharted stretch of river\nsix miles past the first portage. All things considered, I was mighty\nfortunate. If it had been a few weeks later, I would have run slap-dash\ninto the rocks there at the portage.\u201d\n\u201cDid you go back to Half Way House that same night?\u201d\nCaptain Morrison laughed and shook his head.\n\u201cNo, that\u2019s the best part of it. It hurt like blazes to go below and\ntell that distinguished party what a fool I had made of myself. But\ninstead of becoming angry, as I had supposed they would, they had a good\nlaugh over it and instructed me to pull in a little closer to shore\nwhere we wouldn\u2019t drag anchor, and stop for the night.\n\u201cThe next morning was beautiful. The wind had changed into the west and\none could feel the faint stirrings of a regular chinook. I was getting\nready to turn back, when the commissioner came on deck, all rosy and\nsmiling, and asked me how I had spent the night.\n\u201c\u2018Fine,\u2019 I told him.\n\u201c\u2018Have you got a good head of steam?\u2019\n\u201c\u2018Yes, sir,\u2019 I answered. \u2018I can take you back to the trading post in a\nlittle over an hour and a quarter.\u2019\n\u201cI had stepped forward to give my orders to my engineer, when he called\nme back.\n\u201c\u2018Have you ever been this far down the river before?\u2019 he asked me.\n\u201cI told him that I had not. I explained to him that there were no\ntrading posts further down the river and that navigation was impossible\nexcept during high flood.\n\u201c\u2018The lower part of the river has never been charted then?\u2019 he said.\n\u201cI shook my head.\n\u201c\u2018Very well then, Captain Morrison, we\u2019ll go on down the river and chart\nit. We\u2019ll stop at Half Way House on our return.\u2019\u201d\nDick suddenly strode forward and placed an eager, trembling hand on the\nbroad shoulders of the river pilot.\n\u201cAnd did you really chart the river?\u201d he asked in a queer, tense voice.\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s what we did,\u201d the other replied promptly. \u201cWe were away two\nweeks. Went three hundred and fifty miles by actual count.\u201d\nDick suddenly threw his hat in the air.\n\u201cWhoopee!\u201d he shouted,\n                        BACK FROM THE BARRACKS.\n\u201cCaptain Morrison,\u201d said Dick, shaking the pilot\u2019s hand, \u201cI can\u2019t begin\nto tell you how thankful I am that I remained here tonight and listened\nto that interesting account of your experiences. It has solved a great\nproblem for me.\u201d\n\u201cWhat problem? I don\u2019t understand. How have I helped you?\u201d Captain\nMorrison\u2019s questions came like staccato explosions.\n\u201cDid you ever hear of the dinosaur in the Lake of Many Islands?\u201d Dick\nasked.\nThe river man rubbed his forehead thoughtfully,\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t believe that I have. Is there a dinosaur there?\u201d\n\u201cOn the island of the granite shaft,\u201d explained Dick. \u201cA huge skeleton\nof a dinosaur, or what has been described as a dinosaur, a big skeleton\nweighing tons. At Mr. Scott\u2019s suggestion, I\u2019m writing out to the\nCanadian Geographical Society to see if they will be interested in\nbuying it, or at least, finding a purchaser. My great problem was to\ndiscover how to get the thing out of there if I did succeed in selling\nit. I\u2019ve been studying over it for weeks. Until you came here tonight, I\nhad no idea that it was possible to descend the river in a steamer even\nin high water.\u201d\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t!\u201d gasped the captain.\n\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t. None of us did.\u201d\n\u201cI thought that nearly every one knew that the river had been charted,\u201d\nmused the old pilot. \u201cI have the chart in my possession right now. In\nthe morning, if you will accompany me to the steamer, I\u2019ll show it to\nyou.\u201d\n\u201cSplendid,\u201d enthused Dick. \u201cNow comes the next difficulty. Do you think\nthe Hudson\u2019s Bay Company would consider a proposal to transport the\nskeleton from the Lake of Many Islands to Peace River Crossing?\u201d\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d the captain looked at Dick in surprise. \u201cWe carry thousands\nof dollars worth of freight every year for private individuals.\u201d\n\u201cWhen would be the best time to go up there for it?\u201d came Dick\u2019s next\nquestion.\n\u201cThat depends a good deal upon the season. Ordinarily, I should say, the\nlatter part of April or the first part of May. Certainly not until the\nsnow has all melted and the first spring rains have come.\u201d\n\u201cIf I can find a purchaser, can I depend upon yours or some other\nsteamer to do the work for me. The reason I\u2019m asking you this is because\nI\u2019d hate to enter into any sort of contract and then discover at the\nlast minute that you were too busy to make the trip.\u201d\n\u201cThat difficulty can be solved easily. Let me know just as soon as you\nhave completed arrangements with the society and I\u2019ll charter a steamer\nfor you.\u201d\n\u201cThank you, Captain Morrison. That\u2019s very good of you. I\u2019ll write a\nletter tonight and will send it out to the Canadian Geographical Society\nin the mail that you are taking with you tomorrow. Even allowing for\ndelays, I ought to hear from them within two months. If the answer is\nfavorable, I\u2019ll get in touch with you just as soon as I can.\u201d\n\u201cVery well, Dick, I\u2019ll expect to hear from you. Now, if I\u2019m not too\ninquisitive, do you think that such an undertaking as the one you\npropose will be a profitable venture on your part?\u201d\n\u201cI really don\u2019t know,\u201d came the startling answer. \u201cTo be perfectly frank\nwith you, I don\u2019t care if I don\u2019t make a single penny.\u201d\nCaptain Morrison\u2019s eyes popped.\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that? You don\u2019t care? You\u2014you\u2014\u2014\u201d\nFactor Scott\u2019s amused laugh broke across the room.\n\u201cLook here, Dick,\u201d he expostulated, \u201cin fairness to the captain, you\nought to give him your real reason for wanting to fetch out the\ndinosaur.\u201d\n\u201cAll right, Mr. Scott, I will.\u201d\nDick pulled forward a chair and sat down.\n\u201cIf you have just a moment or two more to spare, I\u2019ll tell you. For a\nlong time now it had been a sore point with me. A number of weeks ago,\nat the instance of Mr. Frazer, I went up there to the island of the\ndinosaur, accompanied by my two friends, Sandy MacClaren and John\nToma\u2014the two young men you saw yesterday with Corporal Rand. Mr. Frazer\nhad promised us quite a large sum of money if we would bring the\nskeleton back to Half Way House. Not until we arrived at the island and\nsaw how large the dinosaur was, did we learn that the expedition was\nplanned by the factor merely to get us out of the way. It was a fool\u2019s\nerrand. It made us all feel silly. Quite a few people, who have heard\nabout it, had a good laugh at our expense. I can take a joke as well as\nthe next one, but this joke was too raw to suit me, or my chums either.\nWe had paid out quite a large sum of money for tools and grubstake and\nwere forced to endure untold, almost unbelievable hardships.\u201d\nCaptain Morrison\u2019s eyes shadowed.\n\u201cAtrocious!\u201d he pronounced. \u201cI don\u2019t blame you in the least for feeling\nas you do.\u201d\nSoon afterward, Dick bade good-night to Factor Scott and the genial\nriver pilot and retired to his room in the loft to write his letter to\nthe Canadian Geographical Society. On the following morning, he was up\nbright and early and, after a hurried breakfast, went down to the\nlanding wharf, his epistle in hand.\nCaptain Morrison greeted him cheerily.\n\u201cGood morning, young man, you\u2019re abroad early. Were you afraid I\u2019d pull\nanchor before you had time to mail that precious letter? Bet you didn\u2019t\nsleep a wink last night.\u201d\nDick flushed under the steady gaze.\n\u201cIn strict confidence, I didn\u2019t sleep very much, but I guess it was more\nthan a wink. I feel rested, anyway\u2014and happy, too.\u201d\nThe captain yanked his blue cap farther down over his eyes and bellowed\nout an order. A sailor, standing idly near the gangplank, jumped as if\nhe had been shot.\n\u201cGot to watch them every minute,\u201d grumbled the captain. \u201cBy the way, I\ntold you to come over and see that chart. If you\u2019ll come with me to the\ncabin, I\u2019ll give you a peep at it. Rather proud of that chart. Made\nunder very unusual circumstances. Has the sanction and approval of the\nhighest officials of the Hudson\u2019s Bay Company.\u201d\nFor nearly an hour Dick remained aboard with the captain, studying the\nchart and listening to the account of that memorable journey down the\nriver. When the time came for him to go ashore, he shook hands with his\nbenefactor, thanking him once more.\n\u201cI never would have solved the problem if it hadn\u2019t been for you,\u201d he\ndeclared earnestly, squeezing the pilot\u2019s rough hand. \u201cYou can\u2019t realize\nhow happy it has made me.\u201d\n\u201cEven happier than the satisfaction of knowing you helped to bring those\ncrooks to justice?\u201d inquired the other slyly.\nDick smiled modestly. \u201cNo, I wouldn\u2019t say that. What I mean is that\neverything has worked out so nicely. The slate is almost wiped clean.\nSomehow it seemed that our job wasn\u2019t fully completed until we had\nsettled the fate of that dinosaur.\u201d\nCaptain Morrison laughed, shook hands again and Dick hurried down the\ngangplank just as the steamer\u2019s whistle shrieked out its warning. He\nturned to wave a last good-bye then thoughtfully made his way up to the\npost.\n\u201cNever saw such a change in anyone in my life,\u201d commented the factor as\nDick breezed through the open door. \u201cYour smile would warm the heart of\na stone.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s just the way I feel,\u201d chuckled the young man. \u201cAll I have to do\nnow is enjoy a well-earned vacation while I\u2019m waiting for Sandy and\nToma.\u201d\n\u201cI bet you can hardly wait until they come. They\u2019ll be as pleased as\npunch when you tell them the news.\u201d\nHowever, during the next few days, in which he had plenty of time to\nthink it all over, Dick decided that he would say absolutely nothing\nabout the dinosaur for the present. Instead, he would keep that for a\nsurprise until he had received word from the Canadian Geographical\nSociety. By so doing, if the society\u2019s letter was unfavorable toward the\nproject, no one would be disappointed except himself.\nNevertheless, he counted the days, almost the hours, while he waited for\nhis chums\u2019 return. When the thirteenth day came and passed, little lines\nof worry and impatience began to etch his smooth, brown forehead. On the\nfourteenth day, he had grown so restless that he found it utterly\nimpossible to remain in one place more than a few minutes at a time. He\nwalked around the post like a lost soul. What was keeping them? Had the\nprisoners escaped? Through his mind there flashed in review a hundred\nscenes of lurid, sanguinary combat, through which he could follow the\nsinister, gliding form of two Mekewai brothers\u2014triumphant at last. So\nvividly did his troubled imagination conjure up these fantastic horrors,\nthat he could actually see Sandy, Corporal Rand and Toma lying prone and\nlifeless in the shadow of the sentinel trees along the gloomy, woodland\ntrail to Fort Mackenzie.\nAt four o\u2019clock in the afternoon, almost crazed by his obsessions, he\nwandered back toward the trading room, then suddenly stopped short as if\ntransfixed. Coming out of the woods, less than a hundred yards away,\nwere two well-known figures\u2014two laughing and noisy young men.\nA thrill of joy coursed through him.\n\u201cHello, Dick!\u201d they both shouted as their friend bounded forward to meet\nthem.\nBy the time he had joined them, Sandy and Toma had slipped off their\nshoulder-packs, heedlessly letting them fall to the ground.\n\u201cFooled you, didn\u2019t we?\u201d cried the former. \u201cInstead of returning by\nPainter\u2019s Ferry, we struck straight across country. Had a glorious time.\nToma shot a moose.\u201d\n\u201cHow did the prisoners behave?\u201d Dick demanded.\n\u201cEverything went just like clock-work,\u201d replied Sandy. \u201cNo trouble at\nall. The Mekewais were docile as two lambs. We both had the satisfaction\nof seeing the lot of them thrown into iron cells, where they\u2019ll remain\nuntil the day of the trial. When that time comes, we\u2019ll be the Crown\u2019s\nchief witnesses. Inspector Cameron asked me to tell you that.\u201d\n\u201cWe\u2019ll all be ready,\u201d smiled Dick.\n\u201cInspector Cameron sent his very kindest regards to you,\u201d continued the\nyoung man. \u201cHe says that we\u2019re getting better and better all the time.\nHere\u2019s your check, Dick.\u201d\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said the recipient of the money, glancing at the bit of\npaper while he flushed with pride and pleasure.\n\u201cAnd that isn\u2019t all,\u201d Sandy hurried on. \u201cI almost forgot to tell you an\nimportant bit of news. The story of Miller\u2019s strike at Caribou Lake has\nprecipitated a gold rush. Hundreds of prospectors are on their way there\nand a few already staked out claims. The police think that there\u2019ll be\nan important camp established near Miller\u2019s claim before the summer is\nover. Constable Perry left two days after our arrival, to go up there\nand keep order. The chances are that he\u2019ll be stationed there\npermanently.\u201d\n\u201cToo bad that Miller isn\u2019t there himself,\u201d said Dick. \u201cIf his life\nhadn\u2019t been cut short, he might have lived to become very, very\nwealthy.\u201d\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d Sandy\u2019s face shadowed a little.\nToma turned radiantly upon Dick.\n\u201cWhat you do alla time we be gone?\u201d he asked curiously. \u201cSandy an\u2019 me\ntell each other that you get so lonesome that\u2014\u2014\u201d\nInterrupting him, Dick put aside the implications with a lordly gesture.\n\u201cNot a bit of it. Never had a more interesting time in my life.\u201d\n\u201cYou didn\u2019t even miss us!\u201d gasped Sandy.\nDick flushed as he stooped to pick up the forgotten shoulder-packs.\n\u201cSandy,\u201d he reproved him, \u201csometimes I think you talk too much. Come on\nnow, Factor Scott will be waiting for you.\u201d\nTwo months later at Fort Good Faith, Dick received a letter which caused\nhim to exclaim excitedly and then call out in an eager voice to Sandy,\nwho stood just across the room conversing with a half-breed trapper from\nWilling River.\n\u201cSandy, come here!\u201d\nDick\u2019s chum swung obediently on his heel and hurried over.\n\u201cYes, Dick. What\u2019s up now?\u201d\n\u201cA letter about the dinosaur,\u201d explained Dick. \u201cArrived here just now\nfrom the Canadian Geographical Society.\u201d\nSandy\u2019s expression changed suddenly from eagerness to surprise.\n\u201cOur dinosaur up there at the Lake of Many Islands!\u201d he gasped.\nDick nodded. \u201cThe very same.\u201d\n\u201cYou mean to tell me you\u2019ve been corresponding with the Canadian\nGeographical Society about that mountain of bones?\u201d inquired the other\nwonderingly.\n\u201cYes, Sandy, that\u2019s what I\u2019ve been doing.\u201d\nThe next question was a very natural one:\n\u201cBut why?\u201d\n\u201cTo prove the old saying that the man who laughs last laughs best,\u201d\nanswered Dick enigmatically.\n\u201cWhat do you mean by that?\u201d\n\u201cI mean just this: Up until the time we encountered the dinosaur, we\nnever tackled any task we didn\u2019t successfully finish. But that dinosaur\nstuck us. We didn\u2019t know how we\u2019d get the brute out of the country. We\nlost a certain amount of prestige when we set out upon that undertaking.\nIt made us look like fools. With the exception of Corporal Rand,\neverybody had a good laugh over it.\u201d\n\u201cBut it was our first experience of the kind,\u201d Sandy expostulated. \u201cWe\nknew nothing about fossil hunting. Except in a hazy way, we didn\u2019t even\nknow what a dinosaur was. The mistake was natural. I\u2019ll admit that the\njoke was on us, but almost anyone else, even an older person, might have\nbeen taken in by it.\u201d\n\u201cTrue enough, Sandy.\u201d Dick\u2019s hand rested lightly on his friend\u2019s\nshoulder. \u201cStill I think you\u2019ll agree with me that if we succeed in\ngetting the dinosaur away from the island, we can feel more like facing\nthe world again.\u201d\n\u201cWell, what have you done about it? What does the letter say?\u201d\nDick handed over the sheet of paper.\n\u201cRead it,\u201d he said.\n  Mr. Richard Kent,\n  Fort Good Faith,\n  Dear Sir:\nIn reply to your letter, dated June 27th, I wish to say that our society\nis very much interested in your proposal and early next spring will\nundertake the preliminary work of exhuming, crating and shipping the\nfossil you have described. Our representative, Mr. Claymore, has been\ninstructed to proceed at once to Fort Good Faith, where he will arrive\nabout September 1st to take up with you more fully the project of\ntransporting the dinosaur from Half Way River to the end-of-steel at\nPeace River Crossing.\nSandy glanced up when he had finished reading, thoughtfully folded the\nletter and handed it back to his chum.\n\u201cI suppose you know what you\u2019re doing, Dick. Made all your plans?\u201d\nDick nodded emphatically. \u201cYes, down to the last detail.\u201d\n\u201cTaking Toma and me with you?\u201d\u2014a slight frown and an assumed air of\ngreat indifference.\n\u201cYou bet I am,\u201d grinned Dick. \u201cYou ought to know that without asking.\nYou and Toma are to furnish the brains for my working party.\u201d\n--Copyright notice provided as in the original\u2014this e-text is public\n  domain in the country of publication.\n--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard (or amusing)\n  spellings and dialect unchanged.\n--Added a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.\n--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the\n  HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Dick Kent at Half-Way House, by Milton Richards\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DICK KENT AT HALF-WAY HOUSE ***\n***** This file should be named 51848-0.txt or 51848-0.zip *****\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\nProduced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan\nand the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will\nbe renamed.\nCreating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright\nlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,\nso the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United\nStates without permission and without paying copyright\nroyalties. 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{"source_document": "", "creation_year": 1930, "culture": " English\n", "content": "Produced by Internet Archive Canadian Libraries, Irma\nSpehar, Emmy and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team\nat https://www.pgdp.net\nFANNY GOES TO WAR\nBY PAT BEAUCHAMP\n(FIRST AID NURSING YEOMANRY)\nWITH AN INTRODUCTION BY\nMAJOR-GENERAL H.N. THOMPSON,\nK.C.M.G, C.B., D.S.O\nLONDON\nJOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.\nALL RIGHTS RESERVED\nTo T.H.\nINTRODUCTION\nI eagerly avail myself of the Author's invitation to write a foreword to\nher book, as it gives me an opportunity of expressing something of the\nadmiration, of the wonder, of the intense brotherly sympathy and\naffection--almost adoration--which has from time to time overwhelmed me\nwhen witnessing the work of our women during the Great War.\nThey have been in situations where, five short years ago, no one would\never have thought of finding them. They have witnessed and taken active\npart in scenes nerve-racking and heart-rending beyond the power of\ndescription. Often it has been my duty to watch car-load after car-load\nof severely wounded being dumped into the reception marquees of a\nCasualty Clearing Station. There they would be placed in long rows\nawaiting their turn, and there, amid the groans of the wounded and the\nloud gaspings of the gassed, at the mere approach of a sister there\nwould be a perceptible change and every conscious eye would brighten as\nwith a ray of fresh hope. In the resuscitation and moribund marquees,\nnothing was more pathetic than to see \"Sister,\" with her notebook,\nstooping over some dying lad, catching his last messages to his loved\nones.\nWomen worked amid such scenes for long hours day after day, amid scenes\nas no mere man could long endure, and yet their nerves held out; it may\nbe because they were inspired by the nature of their work. I have seen\nthem, too, continue that work under intermittent shelling and bombing,\nrepeated day after day and night after night, and it was the rarest\nthing to find one whose nerves gave way. I have seen others rescue\nwounded from falling houses, and drive their cars boldly into streets\nwith bricks and debris flying.\nI have also, alas! seen them grievously wounded; and on one occasion,\nkilled, and found their comrades continuing their work in the actual\npresence of their dead.\nThe free homes of Britain little realise what our war women have been\nthrough, or what an undischarged debt is owing to them.\nHow few now realise to what a large extent they were responsible for the\nfighting spirit, for the _morale_, for the tenacity which won the war!\nThe feeling, the knowledge that their women were at hand to succour and\nto tend them when they fell raised the fighting spirit of the men and\nmade them brave and confident.\nThe above qualities are well exemplified by the conduct and bearing of\nour Authoress herself, who, when grievously injured, never lost her head\nor her consciousness, but through half an hour sat quietly on the\nroad-side beside the wreck of her car and the mangled remains of her\nlate companion. Rumour has it that she asked for and smoked a\ncigarette.\nSuch heroism in a young girl strongly appealed to the imagination of our\nFrench and Belgian Allies, and two rows of medals bedeck her khaki\njacket.\nOther natural qualities of our race, which largely helped to win the\nwar, are brought out very vividly, although unconsciously, in this book,\n_e.g._ the spirit of cheerfulness; the power to forget danger and\nhardship; the faculty of seeing the humorous side of things; of making\nthe best of things; the spirit of comradeship which sweetened life.\nThese qualities were nowhere more evident than among the F.A.N.Y. Their\n_esprit-de-corps_, their gaiety, their discipline, their smartness and\ndevotion when duty called were infectious, almost an inspiration to\nthose who witnessed them.\nThroughout the war the \"Fannys\" were renowned for their resourcefulness.\nThey were always ready to take on any and every job, from starting up a\nfrozen car to nursing a bad typhoid case, and they rose to the occasion\nevery time.\n     H.N. THOMPSON, K.C.M.G., C.B., D.S.O.,\n     _Director of Medical Services, British Army of the Rhine._\n     _Assistant Director Medical Services, 2nd Division, 1914;\n     ditto 48th Division, 1915; Deputy-Director Medical Services,\n     VI Corps, May 1915 to July 1917; Director Medical Services,\n     First Army, July 1917 to April 1919._\nCONTENTS\n VIII. CONCERNING BATHS, \"JOLIE-ANNETTE,\" \"MARIE-MARGOT\" AND ST.\n    X. CONCERNING A CONCERT, CANTEEN WORK, HOUSEKEEPING, THE ENGLISH\n  XII. THE PASSING OF THE LITTLE LORRY, \"OLD BILL\" AND \"'ERB\" AT\n   XV. CONVOY PETS, COMMANDEERING, AND THE \"FANTASTIKS\"              197\n XVII. HOSPITALS: FRANCE AND ENGLAND                                 240\nXVIII. ROEHAMPTON: \"BOB\" THE GREY, AND THE ARMISTICE                 267\nFANNY GOES TO WAR\nCHAPTER I\nIN CAMP BEFORE THE WAR\nThe First Aid Nursing Yeomanry was founded in 1910 and now numbers\nroughly about four hundred voluntary members.\nIt was originally intended to supplement the R.A.M.C. in field work,\nstretcher bearing, ambulance driving, etc.--its duties being more or\nless embodied in the title.\nAn essential point was that each member should be able to ride bareback\nor otherwise, as much difficulty had been found in transporting nurses\nfrom one place to another on the veldt in the South African War. Men had\noften died through lack of attention, as the country was too rough to\npermit of anything but a saddle horse to pass.\nThe First Aid Nursing Yeomanry was on active service soon after War was\ndeclared and, though it is not universally known, they were the pioneers\nof all the women's corps subsequently working in France.\nBefore they had been out very long they were affectionately known as\nthe F.A.N.Y.'s, to all and sundry, and in an incredibly short space of\ntime had units working with the British, French, and Belgian Armies in\nthe field.\nIt was in the Autumn of 1913 that, picking up the _Mirror_ one day, I\nsaw a snapshot of a girl astride on horseback leaping a fence in a khaki\nuniform and topee. Underneath was merely the line \"Women Yeomanry in\nCamp,\" and nothing more. \"That,\" said I, pointing out the photo to a\nfriend, \"is the sort of show I'd like to belong to: I'm sick of ambling\nround the Row on a Park hack. It would be a rag to go into camp with a\nlot of other girls. I'm going to write to the _Mirror_ for particulars\nstraight away.\"\nI did so; but got no satisfaction at all, as the note accompanying the\nphoto had been mislaid. However, they did inform me there was such a\nCorps in existence, but beyond that they could give me no particulars.\nI spent weeks making enquiries on all sides. \"Oh, yes, certainly there\nwas a Girls' Yeomanry Corps.\" \"Where can I join it?\" I would ask\nbreathlessly. \"Ah, that I can't say,\" would be the invariable reply.\nThe more obstacles I met with only made me the more determined to\npersevere. I went out of my way to ask all sorts of possible and\nimpossible people on the off-chance that they might know; but it was a\nlong time before I could run it to earth. \"Deeds not words\" seemed to be\ntheir motto.\nOne night at a small dance my partner told me he had just joined the\nSurrey Yeomanry; that brought the subject up once more and I confided\nall my troubles to him. Joy of joys! He had actually _seen_ some of the\nCorps riding in Hounslow Barracks. It was plain sailing from that\nmoment, and I hastened to write to the Adjutant of the said Barracks to\nobtain full particulars.\nWithin a few days I received a reply and a week later met the C.O. of\nthe F.A.N.Y.'s, for an interview.\nTo my delight I heard the Corps was shortly going into camp, and I was\ninvited to go down for a week-end to see how I liked it before I\nofficially became a member. When the day arrived my excitement, as I\nstepped into the train at Waterloo, knew no bounds. Here I was at last\n_en route_ for the elusive Yeomanry Camp!\nArrived at Brookwood, I chartered an ancient fly and in about twenty\nminutes or so espied the camp in a field some distance from the road\nalong which we were driving. \"'Ard up for a job _I_ should say!\" said my\ncabby, nodding jocosely towards the khaki figures working busily in the\ndistance. I ignored this sally as I dismissed him and set off across the\nfields with my suit case.\nThere was a large mess tent, a store tent, some half dozen or more bell\ntents, a smoky, but serviceable-looking, field kitchen, and at the end\nof the field were tethered the horses! As I drew nearer, I felt horribly\nshy and was glad I had selected my very plainest suit and hat, as\nseveral pairs of eyes looked up from polishing bits and bridles to scan\nme from top to toe.\nI was shown into the mess tent, where I was told to wait for the C.O.,\nand in the meantime made friends with \"Castor,\" the Corps' bull-dog and\nmascot, who was lying in a clothes-basket with a bandaged paw as the\nresult of an argument with a regimental pal at Bisley.\nA sudden diversion was caused by a severe thunderstorm which literally\nbroke right over the camp. I heard the order ring out \"To the\nhorse-lines!\" and watched (through a convenient hole in the canvas)\nseveral \"troopers\" flying helter-skelter down the field.\nTo everyone's disappointment, however, those old skins never turned a\nhair; there was not even the suggestion of a stampede. I cautiously\npushed my suit-case under the mess table in the hope of keeping it dry,\nfor the rain was coming down in torrents, and in places poured through\nthe canvas roof in small rivulets. (Even in peace-time comfort in the\nF.A.N.Y. Camp was at a minimum!)\nThey all trooped in presently, very wet and jolly, and Lieutenant Ashley\nSmith (McDougal) introduced me as a probable recruit. When the storm was\nover she kindly lent me an old uniform, and I was made to feel quite at\nhome by being handed about thirty knives and asked to rub them in the\nearth to get them clean. The cooks loved new recruits!\nFeeling just then was running very high over the Irish question. I\nlearnt a contingent had been offered and accepted, in case of\nhostilities, and that the C.O. had even been over to Belfast to arrange\nabout stables and housing!\nOne enthusiast asked me breathlessly (it was Cole-Hamilton) \"Which side\nare you on?\" I'm afraid I knew nothing much about either and shamelessly\ncountered it by asking, \"Which are you?\" \"Ulster, of course,\" she\nreplied. \"I'm with you,\" said I, \"it's all the same to me so long as I'm\nthere for the show.\"\nI thoroughly enjoyed that week-end and, of course, joined the Corps. In\nJuly of that year we had great fun in the long summer camp at Pirbright.\nWork was varied, sometimes we rode out with the regiments stationed at\nBisley on their field days and looked after any casualties. (We had a\nhorse ambulance in those days which followed on these occasions and was\nregarded as rather a dud job.) Other days some were detailed for work at\nthe camp hospital near by to help the R.A.M.C. men, others to exercise\nthe horses, clean the officers' boots and belts, etc., and, added to\nthese duties, was all the everyday work of the camp, the grooming and\nwatering of the horses, etc. Each one groomed her own mount, but in some\ncases one was shared between two girls. \"Grooming time is the only time\nwhen I appreciate having half a horse,\" one of these remarked cheerily\nto me. That hissing noise so beloved of grooms is extraordinarily hard\nto acquire--personally, I needed all the breath I had to cope at all!\nThe afternoons were spent doing stretcher drill: having lectures on\nFirst Aid and Nursing from a R.A.M.C. Sergeant-Major, and, when it was\nvery hot, enjoying a splash in the tarpaulin-lined swimming bath the\nsoldiers had kindly made for us. Rides usually took place in the\nevenings, and when bedtime came the weary troopers were only too ready\nto turn in! Our beds were on the floor and of the \"biscuit\" variety,\nbeing three square _paillasse_ arrangements looking like giant\nreproductions of the now too well known army \"tooth breakers.\" We had\nbrown army blankets, and it was no uncommon thing to find black earth\nbeetles and earwigs crawling among them! After months of active service\nthese details appear small, but in the summer of 1914 they were real\nterrors. Before leaving the tents in the morning each \"biscuit\" had to\nbe neatly piled on the other and all the blankets folded, and then we\nhad to sally forth to learn the orders of the day, who was to be orderly\nto our two officers, who was to water the horses, etc., etc., and by the\ntime it was eight a.m. we had already done a hard day's work.\nOne particular day stands out in my memory as being a specially\nstrenuous one. The morning's work was over, and the afternoon was set\naside for practising for the yearly sports. The rescue race was by far\nthe most thrilling, its object being to save anyone from the enemy who\nhad been left on the field without means of transport. There was a good\ndeal of discussion as to who were to be the rescued and who the\nrescuers. Sergeant Wicks explained to all and sundry that her horse\nobjected strongly to anyone sitting on its tail and that it always\nbucked on these occasions. No one seemed particularly anxious to be\nsaved on that steed, and my heart sank as her eye alighted on me. Being\na new member I felt it was probably a test, and when the inevitable\nquestion was asked I murmured faintly I'd be delighted. I made my way to\nthe far end of the field with the others fervently hoping I shouldn't\nland on my head.\nAt a given command the rescuers galloped up, wheeled round, and,\nslipping the near foot from the stirrup, left it for the rescued to jump\nup by. I was soon up and sitting directly behind the saddle with one\nfoot in the stirrup and a hand in Sergeant Wicks' belt. (Those of you\nwho know how slight she is can imagine my feeling of security!) Off we\nset with every hope of reaching the post first, and I was just settling\ndown to enjoy myself when going over a little dip in the field two\nterrific bucks landed us high in the air! Luckily I fell \"soft,\" but as\nI picked myself up I couldn't help wondering whether in some cases\nfalling into the enemy's hand might not be the lesser evil! I spent the\nnext ten minutes catching the \"Bronco!\" After that, we retired to our\nmess for tea, on the old Union Jack, very ready for it after our\nefforts.\nWe had just turned in that night and drawn up the army blankets,\nexcessively scratchy they were too, when the bugle sounded for everyone\nto turn out. (This was rather a favourite stunt of the C.O.'s.) Luckily\nit was a bright moonlight night, and we learnt we were to make for a\ncertain hill, beyond Bisley, carrying with us stretchers and a tent for\nan advanced dressing station. Subdued groans greeted this piece of news,\nbut we were soon lined up in groups of four--two in front, two behind,\nand with two stretchers between the four. These were carried on our\nshoulders for a certain distance, and at the command \"Change\nstretchers!\" they were slipped down by our sides. This stunt had to be\nexecuted very neatly and with precision, and woe betide anyone who\nbungled it. It was ten o'clock when we reached Bisley Camp, and I\nremember to this day the surprised look on the sentry's face, in the\nmoonlight, as we marched through. It was always a continual source of\nwonderment to them that girls should do anything so much like hard work\nfor so-called amusement. That march seemed interminable--but singing and\nwhistling as we went along helped us tremendously. Little did we think\nhow this training would stand us in good stead during the long days on\nactive service that followed. At last a halt was called, and luckily at\nthis point there was a nice dry ditch into which we quickly flopped with\nour backs to the hedge and our feet on the road. It made an ideal\narmchair!\nWe resumed the march, and striking off the road came to a rough clearing\nwhere the tent was already being erected by an advance party. We were\nlined up and divided into groups, some as stretcher bearers, some as\n\"wounded,\" some as nurses to help the \"doctor,\" etc. The wounded were\ngiven slips of paper, on which their particular \"wound\" was described,\nand told to go off and make themselves scarce, till they were found and\ncarried in (a coveted job). When they had selected nice soft dry spots\nthey lay down and had a quiet well-earned nap until the stretcher\nbearers discovered them. Occasionally they were hard to find, and a\npanting bearer would call out \"I say, wounded, _give_ a groan!\" and they\nwere located. First Aid bandages were applied to the \"wound\" and, if\nnecessary, impromptu splints made from the trees near by. The patient\nwas then placed on the stretcher and taken back to the \"dressing\nstation.\" \"I'm slipping off the stretcher at this angle,\" she would\noccasionally complain. \"Shut up,\" the panting stretcher bearers would\nreply, \"you're unconscious!\"\nWhen all were brought in, places were changed, and the stretcher bearers\nbecame the wounded and vice versa. We got rather tired of this pastime\nabout 12.30 but there was still another wounded to be brought in. She\nhad chosen the bottom of a heathery slope and took some finding. It was\nthe C.O. She feigned delirium and threw her arms about in a wild manner.\nThe poor bearers were feeling too exhausted to appreciate this piece of\nacting, and heather is extremely slippery stuff. When we had struggled\nback with her the soi-disant doctor asked for the diagnosis. \"Drunk and\ndisorderly,\" replied one of them, stepping smartly forward and saluting!\nThis somewhat broke up the proceedings, and _l\u00e8se majest\u00e9_ was excused\non the grounds that it was too dark to recognise it was the C.O. The\ntent pegs were pulled up and the tent pulled down and we all thankfully\ntramped back to camp to sleep the sleep of the just till the reveille\nsounded to herald another day.\nCHAPTER II\nFIRST IMPRESSIONS\nThe last Chapter was devoted to the F.A.N.Y.'s in camp before the War,\nbut from now onwards will be chronicled facts that befell them on active\nservice.\nWhen war broke out in August 1914 Lieutenant Ashley Smith lost no time\nin offering the Corps' services to the War Office. To our intense\ndisappointment these were refused. However, F.A.N.Y.'s are not easily\ndaunted. The Belgian Army, at that time, had no organised medical corps\nin the field, and informed us they would be extremely grateful if we\nwould take over a Hospital for them. Lieutenant Smith left for Antwerp\nin September 1914, and had arranged to take a house there for a Hospital\nwhen the town fell; her flight to Ghent where she stayed to the last\nwith a dying English officer, until the Germans arrived, and her\nsubsequent escape to Holland have been told elsewhere. (_A F.A.N.Y. in\nFrance--Nursing Adventures._) Suffice it to say we were delighted to see\nher safely back among us again in October; and on the last day of that\nmonth the first contingent of F.A.N.Y.'s left for active service, hardly\nany of them over twenty-one.\nI was unfortunately not able to join them until January 1915; and never\ndid time drag so slowly as in those intervening months. I spent the time\nin attending lectures and hospital, driving a car and generally picking\nup every bit of useful information I could. The day arrived at last and\nColey and I were, with the exception of the Queen of the Belgians\n(travelling incognito) and her lady-in-waiting, the only women on board.\nThe Hospital we had given us was for Belgian Tommies, and called\nLamarck, and had been a Convent school before the War. There were fifty\nbeds for \"_bless\u00e9s_\" and fifty for typhoid patients, which at that\nperiod no other Hospital in the place would take. It was an extremely\nvirulent type of pneumonic typhoid. These cases were in a building apart\nfrom the main Hospital and across the yard. Dominating both buildings\nwas the cathedral of Notre Dame, with its beautiful East window facing\nour yard.\nThe top floor of the main building was a priceless room and reserved for\nus. Curtained off at the far end were the beds of the chauffeurs who had\nto sleep on the premises while the rest were billeted in the town; the\nother end resolved itself into a big untidy, but oh so jolly, sitting\nroom. Packing cases were made into seats and piles of extra blankets\nwere covered and made into \"tumpties,\" while round the stove stood the\ninterminable clothes horses airing the shirts and sheets, etc., which\nLieutenant Franklin brooded over with a watchful eye! It was in this\nroom we all congregated at ten o'clock every morning for twenty precious\nminutes during which we had tea and biscuits, read our letters, swanked\nto other wards about the bad cases we had got in, and generally talked\nshop and gossiped. There was an advanced dressing station at Oostkerke\nwhere three of the girls worked in turn, and we also took turns to go up\nto the trenches on the Yser at night, with fresh clothes for the men and\nbandages and dressings for those who had been wounded.\nAt one time we were billeted in a fresh house every three nights which,\nas the reader may imagine in those \"moving\" times, had its\ndisadvantages. After a time, as a great favour, an empty shop was\nallowed us as a permanency. It rejoiced in the name of \"Le Bon G\u00e9nie\"\nand was at the corner of a street, the shop window extending along the\ntwo sides. It was this \"shop window\" we used as a dormitory, after\npasting the lower panes with brown paper. When they first heard at home\nthat we \"slept in a shop window\" they were mildly startled. We were so\nshort of beds that the night nurses tumbled into ours as soon as they\nwere vacated in the morning, so there was never much fear of suffering\nfrom a damp one.\nOur patients were soldiers of the Belgian line and cavalry regiments and\nat first I was put in a _bless\u00e9_ ward. I had originally gone out with\nthe idea of being one of the chauffeurs; but we were so short of nurses\nthat I willingly went into the wards instead, where we worked under\ntrained sisters. The men were so jolly and patient and full of gratitude\nto the English \"Miskes\" (which was an affectionate diminutive of\n\"Miss\"). It was a sad day when we had to clear the beds to make ready\nfor fresh cases. I remember going down to the Gare Maritime one day\nbefore the Hospital ship left for Cherbourg, where they were all taken.\nNever shall I forget the sight. In those days passenger ships had been\nhastily converted into Hospital ships and the accommodation was very\ndifferent from that of to-day. All the cases from my ward were\n\"stretchers\" and indeed hardly fit to be moved. I went down the\ncompanion way, and what a scene met my eyes. The floor of the saloon was\npacked with stretchers all as close together as possible. It seemed\nterrible to believe that every one[1] of those men was seriously wounded.\nThe stretchers were so close together it was impossible to try and move\namong them, so I stayed on the bottom rung of the ladder and threw the\ncigarettes to the different men who were well enough to smoke them. The\ndiscomfort they endured must have been terrible, for from a letter I\nsubsequently received I learnt they were three days on the journey. In\nthose days when the Germans were marching on Calais, it was up to the\nmedical authorities to pass the wounded through as quickly as possible.\nOften the men could only speak Flemish, but I did not find much\ndifficulty in understanding it. If you speak German with a broad\nCumberland accent I assure you you can make yourself understood quite\neasily! It was worth while trying anyway, and it did one's heart good to\nsee how their faces lighted up.\nThere were some famous characters in the Hospital, one of them being\nJefk\u00e9, the orderly in Ward I, who at times could be tender as a woman,\nat others a veritable clown keeping the men in fits of laughter, then as\nsuddenly lapsing into a profound melancholy and reading a horrible\nlittle greasy prayer book assuring us most solemnly that his one idea in\nlife was to enter the Church. Though he stole jam right and left his\nheart was in the right place, for the object of his depredations was\nalways some extra tasty dish for a specially bad _bless\u00e9_. He had the\nlongest of eyelashes, and his expression when caught would be so comical\nit was impossible to be angry with him.\nAnother famous \"impayable\" was the coffin-cart man who came on occasions\nto drive the men to their last resting place. The Coffin cart was a\nmelancholy looking vehicle resembling in appearance a dilapidated old\ncrow, as much as anything, or a large bird of prey with its torn black\ncanvas sides that flapped mournfully like huge wings in the wind as\nPierre drove it along the streets. I could never repress a shiver when I\nsaw it flapping along. The driver was far from being a sorry individual\nwith his crisp black moustaches _bien fris\u00e9s_ and his merry eye. He\nexplained to me in a burst of confidence that his _m\u00e9tier_ in peace\ntimes was that of a trick cyclist on the Halls. What a contrast from\nhis present job. He promised to borrow a bicycle on the morrow and give\nan exhibition for our benefit in the yard. He did so, and was certainly\nno mean performer. The only day I ever saw him really downcast was when\nhe came to bid good-bye. \"What, Pierre,\" said I, \"you don't mean to say\nyou are leaving us?\" \"Yes, Miske, for punishment--I will explain how it\narrived. Look you, to give pleasure to my young lady I took her for a\njoy-ride, a very little one, on the coffin cart, and on returning behold\nwe were caught, _voil\u00e0_, and now I go to the trenches!\" I could not help\nlaughing, he looked so downcast, and the idea of his best girl enjoying\na ride in that lugubrious car struck me as being the funniest thing I\nhad heard for some time.\nWe were a never-failing source of wonderment to the French inhabitants\nof the town. Our manly Yeomanry uniform filled them with awe and\nadmiration. I overheard a chemist saying to one of his clients as we\nwere passing out of his shop, \"Truly, until one hears their voices, one\nwould say they were men.\"\n\"There's a compliment for us,\" said I, to Struttie. \"I didn't know we\nhad manly faces until this moment.\"\nAfter some time when work was not at such a high pressure, two of us\nwent out riding in turns on the sands with one of the Commandants.\nBelgian military saddles took some getting used to with the peak in\nfront and the still higher one behind, not to mention the excessive\nslipperiness of the surface. His favourite pastime on the return ride\nwas to play follow my leader up and down the sand dunes, and it was his\ngreat delight to go streaking up the very highest, with the sand\ncrumbling and slipping behind him, and we perforce had to follow and lie\nalmost flat on the horse's backs as we descended the \"precipice\" the\nother side. We felt English honour was at stake and with our hearts in\nour mouths (at least mine was!) followed at all costs.\nIf we were off duty in the evening we hurried back to the \"shop window\"\nbuying eggs _en route_ and anything else we fancied for supper; then we\nundressed hastily and thoroughly enjoyed our picnic meal instead of\nhaving it in the hospital kitchen, with the sanded floor and the medley\nof Belgian cooks in the background and the banging of saucepans as an\naccompaniment. Two of the girls kept their billet off the Grand Place as\na permanency. It was in a funny old-fashioned house in a dark street\nknown universally as \"the dug-out\"--Madame was fat and capable, with a\nlarge heart. The French people at first were rather at a loss to place\nthe English \"Mees\" socially and one day two of us looked in to ask\nMadame's advice on how to cook something. She turned to us in\nastonishment. \"How now, you know not how to cook a thing simple as that?\nWho then makes the 'cuisine' for you at home? Surely not Madame your\nmother when there are young girls such as you in the house?\" We gazed\nat her dumbly while she sniffed in disgust. \"Such a thing is unheard of\nin my country,\" she continued wrathfully. \"I wonder you have not shame\nat your age to confess such ignorance\"--\"What _would_ she say,\" said my\nfriend to me when she had gone, \"if I told her we have _two_ cooks at\nhome?\"\nThis house of Madame's was built in such a way that some of the bedrooms\njutted out over the shops in the narrow little streets. Thompson and\nStruttie who had a room there were over a Caf\u00e9 Chantant known as the\n\"Bijou\"--a high class place of entertainment! Sunday night was a gala\nperformance and I was often asked to a \"scrambled-egg\" supper during\nwhich, with forks suspended in mid air, we listened breathlessly to the\nsounds of revelry beneath. Some of the performers had extremely good\nvoices and we could almost, but not quite, hear the words (perhaps it\nwas just as well). What ripping tunes they had! I can remember one\nespecially when, during the chorus, all the audience beat time with\ntheir feet and joined in. We were evolving wild schemes of disguising\nourselves as _poilus_ and going in a body to witness the show, but\nunfortunately it was one of those things that is \"not done\" in the best\ncircles!\nCHAPTER III\nTHE JOURNEY UP TO THE FRONT\nSoon my turn came to go up to the trenches. The day had at last arrived!\nWe were not due to go actually _into_ the trenches till after dark in\ncase of drawing fire, but we set off early, as we had some distance to\ngo and stores to deliver at dressing stations. Two of the trained\nnurses, Sister Lampen and Joynson, were of the party, and two\nF.A.N.Y.'s; the rest of the good old \"Mors\" ambulance was filled with\nsacks of shirts, mufflers, and socks, together with the indispensable\nfirst-aid chests and packets of extra dressings in case of need.\nOur first visit was made to the Belgian Headquarters in the town for our\n_laisser passers_, without which we would not be allowed to pass the\nsentries at the barriers. We were also given the _mots du jour_ or\npass-words for the day, the latter of which came into operation only\nwhen we were in the zone of fire. I will describe what happened in\ndetail, as it was a very fair sample of the average day up at the front.\nThe road along which we travelled was, of course, lined with the\nubiquitous poplar tree, placed at regular intervals as far as the eye\ncould see. The country was flat to a degree, with cleverly hidden\nentrenchments at intervals, for this was the famous main road to Calais\nalong which the Kaiser so ardently longed to march.\nBarriers occurred frequently placed slantwise across the roads, where\nsentries stood with fixed bayonets, and through which no one could pass\nunless the _laisser passer_ was produced. Some of those barriers were\nquite tricky affairs to drive through in a big ambulance, and reminded\nme of a gymkhana! It was quite usual in those days to be stopped by a\nsoldier waiting on the road, who, with a gallant bow and salute, asked\nyour permission to \"mount behind\" and have a lift to so and so. In fact,\nif you were on foot and wanted to get anywhere quickly it was always\nsafe to rely on a military car or ambulance coming along, and then\nsimply wave frantically and ask for a lift. Very much a case of share\nand share alike.\nWe passed many regiments riding along, and very gay they looked with\ntheir small cocked caps and tassels that dangled jauntily over one eye\n(this was before they got into khaki). The regiments were either French\nor Belgian, for no British were in that sector at this time. Soon we\narrived at the picturesque entry into Dunkirk, with its drawbridge and\nmedi\u00e6val towers and grey city wall; here our passes were again examined,\nand there was a long queue of cars waiting to get through as we drew\nup. Once \"across the Rubicon\" we sped through the town and in time came\nto Furnes with its quaint old market place. Already the place was\nshowing signs of wear and tear. Shell holes in some of the roofs and a\ngood many broken panes, together with the general air of desertion, all\ncombined to make us feel we were near the actual fighting line. We\nlearnt that bombs had been dropped there only that morning. (This was\nearly in 1915, and since then the place has been reduced to almost\ncomplete ruin.) We sped on, and could see one of the famous coastal\nforts on the horizon. So different from what one had always imagined a\nfort would look like. \"A green hill far away,\" seems best to describe\nit, I think. It wasn't till one looked hard that one could see small\ndark splotches that indicated where the cannon were.\nA Belgian whom we were \"lifting\" (\"lorry jumping\" is now the correct\nterm!) pointed out to us a huge factory, now in English hands, which had\nbeen owned before the war by a German. Under cover of the so-called\n\"factory\" he had built a secret gun emplacement for a large gun, to\ntrain on this same fort and demolish it when the occasion arose. At this\npoint we saw the first English soldiers that day in motor boats on the\ncanal, and what a smile of welcome they gave us!\nPresently we came to lines of Belgian Motor transport drawn up at the\nsides of the road, car after car, waiting patiently to get on. Without\nexaggeration this line was a mile in length, and we simply had to crawl\npast, as there was barely room for a large ambulance on that narrow and\nexcessively muddy road. The drivers were all in excellent spirits, and\nnodded and smiled as we passed--occasionally there was an officer's car\nsandwiched in between, and those within gravely saluted.\nAbout this time a very cheery Belgian artillery-man who was exchanging\nto another regiment, came on board and kept us highly amused. Souvenirs\nwere the aim and end of existence just then, and he promised us shell\nheads galore when he came down the line. On leaving the car, as a token\nof his extreme gratitude, he pressed his artillery cap into our hands\nsaying he would have no further need of it in his new regiment, and\nwould we accept it as a souvenir!\nThe roads in Belgium need some explaining for those who have not had the\nopportunity to see them. Firstly there is the _pav\u00e9_, and a very popular\npicture with us after that day was one which came out in the _Sketch_ of\na Tommy in a lorry asking a haughty French dragoon to \"Alley off the\nbloomin' pavee--vite.\" Well, this famous _pav\u00e9_ consists of cobbles\nabout six inches square, and these extend across the road to about the\nwidth of a large cart--On either side there is mud--with a capital M,\nsuch as one doesn't often see--thick and clayey and of a peculiarly\ngluey substance, and in some places quite a foot deep. You can imagine\nthe feeling at the back of your spine as you are squeezing past another\ncar. If you aren't extremely careful plop go the side wheels off the\n\"bloomin' pavee\" into the mud beyond and it takes half the Belgian Army\nto help to heave you on to the \"straight and narrow\" path once more.\nIt was just about this time we heard our first really heavy firing and\nit gave us a queer thrill to hear the constant boom-boom of the guns\nlike a continuous thunderstorm. We began to feel fearfully hungry, and\nstopped beside a high bank flanking a canal and not far from a small\ncaf\u00e9. Bunny and I went to get some hot water. It was a tumble-down place\nenough, and as we pushed the door open (on which, by the way, was the\nnotice in French, \"During the bombardment one enters by the side door\")\nwe found the room full of men drinking coffee and smoking. I bashfully\nmade my way towards one of the oldest women I have ever seen and asked\nher in a low voice for some hot water. As luck would have it she was\ndeaf as a post, and the whole room listened in interested silence as\nwith scarlet face I yelled out my demands in my best French. We returned\ntriumphantly to the waiting ambulance and had a very jolly lunch to the\nnow louder accompaniment of the guns. The passing soldiers took a great\ninterest in us and called out whatever English words they knew, the most\npopular being \"Good night.\"\nWe soon started on our way again, and at this point there was actually a\nbend in the road. Just before we came to it there was a whistling,\nsobbing sound in the air and then an explosion somewhere ahead of us. We\nall shrank instinctively, and I glanced sideways at my companion, hoping\nshe hadn't noticed, to find that she was looking at me, and we both\nlaughed without explaining.\nAs we turned the corner, the usual flat expanse of country greeted our\neyes, and a solitary red tiled farmhouse on the right attracted our\nattention, in front of which was a group of soldiers. On drawing near we\nsaw that this was the spot where the shell had landed and that there\nwere casualties. We drew up and got down hastily, taking dressings with\nus. The sight that met my eyes is one I shall never forget, and, in\nfact, cannot describe. Four men had just been blown to pieces--I leave\nthe details to your imagination, but it gave me a sudden shock to\nrealize that a few minutes earlier those remains had been living men\nwalking along the road laughing and talking.\nThe soldiers, French, standing looking on, seemed more or less dazed.\nWhile they assured us we could do nothing, the body of a fifth soldier\nwho had been hit on the head by a piece of the same shell, and\ninstantaneously killed, was being borne on a stretcher into the farm. It\nall seemed curiously unreal.\nOne of the men silently handed me a bit of the shell, which was still\nwarm. It was just a chance that we had not stopped opposite that farm\nfor lunch, as we assuredly would have done had it not been hidden\nbeyond the bend in the road. The noise of firing was now very loud, and\nthough the sun was shining brightly on the farm, the road we were\ndestined to follow was sombre looking with a lowering sky overhead.\nAnother shell came over and burst in front of us to the right. For an\ninstant I felt in an awful funk, and my one idea was to flee from that\nsinister spot as fast as I could. We seemed to be going right for it,\n\"looking for trouble,\" in fact, as the Tommies would say, and it gave\none rather a funny sinking feeling in one's tummy! A shell might come\nwhizzing along so easily just as the last one had done.[2] Someone at that\nmoment said \"Let's go back,\" and with that all my fears vanished in a\nmoment as if by magic. \"Rather not, this is what we've come for,\" said a\nF.A.N.Y., \"hurry up and get in, it's no use staying here,\" and soon we\nwere whizzing along that road again and making straight for the steady\nboom-boom, and from then onwards a spirit of subdued excitement filled\nus all. Stray shells burst at intervals, and it seemed not unlikely they\nwere potting at us from Dixmude.\nWe passed houses looking more and more dilapidated and the road got\nmuddier and muddier. Finally we arrived at the village of Ramscapelle.\nIt was like passing through a village of the dead--not a house left\nwhole, few walls standing, and furniture lying about haphazard. We\nproceeded along the one main street of the village until we came to a\nhouse with green shutters which had been previously described to us as\nthe Belgian headquarters. It was in a better state than the others, and\na small flag indicated we had arrived at our destination.\nCHAPTER IV\nBEHIND THE TRENCHES\nWe got out and leaped the mud from the _pav\u00e9_ to the doorstep, and an\norderly came forward and conducted us to a sitting room at the rear\nwhere Major R. welcomed us, and immediately ordered coffee. We were\ngreatly impressed by the calm way in which he looked at things. He\npointed with pride to a gaily coloured print from the one and only \"Vie\"\n(what would the dug-outs at the front have done without \"La Vie\" and\nKirchner?), which covered a newly made shell hole in the wall. He also\nshowed us places where shrapnel was embedded; and from the window we saw\na huge hole in the back garden made by a \"Black Maria.\" Beside it was a\ngrave headed by a little rough wooden cross and surmounted by one of\nthose gay tasselled caps we had seen early that morning, though it\nseemed more like last week, so much had happened since then.\nAs it was only possible to go into the trenches at dusk we still had\nsome time to spare, and after drinking everybody's health in some\nexcellent benedictine, Major R. suggested we should make a tour of\ninspection of the village. \"The bombardment is over for the day,\" he\nadded, \"so you need have no fear.\" I went out wondering at his certainty\nthat the Boche would _not_ bombard again that afternoon. It transpired\nlater that they did so regularly at the same time every afternoon as\npart of the day's work! There did come a time, however, when they\nchanged the programme, but that was later, on another visit.\nWe made for the church which had according to custom been shelled more\nthan the houses. The large crucifix was lying with arms outstretched on\na pile of wreckage, the body pitted with shrapnel. The cur\u00e9 accompanied\nus, and it was all the poor old man could do to keep from breaking down\nas he led us mournfully through that devastated cemetery. Some of the\ngraves, even those with large slabs over them, had been shelled to such\nan extent that the stone coffins beneath could clearly be seen, half\nopened, with rotting grave-clothes, and in others even the skeletons had\nbeen disinterred. New graves, roughly fashioned like the one we had seen\nin the back garden at headquarters, were dotted all over the place.\nSomehow they were not so sinister as those old heavily slabbed ones\ndisturbed after years of peace. The cur\u00e9 took me into the church, the\nwalls of which were still standing, and begged me to take a photo of a\nspecial statue (this was before cameras were tabooed), which I did. I\nhad to take a \"time\" as the light was so bad, and quite by luck it came\nout splendidly and I was able to send him a copy.\nIt was all most depressing and I was jolly glad to get away from the\nplace. On the way back we saw a battery of _sept-cinqs_ (French\nseventy-fives) cleverly hidden by branches. They had just been moved up\ninto these new positions. Of course the booming of the guns went on all\nthe time and we were told Nieuport was having its daily \"ration.\" We had\nseveral other places to go to to deliver Hospital stores; also two\nadvanced dressing stations to visit, so we pushed off, promising Major\nR. to be back at 6.30.\nWe had to go in the direction of Dixmude, then in German occupation, and\nthe mud at this point was too awful for words, while at intervals there\nwere huge shell holes full of water looking like small circular ponds.\nLuckily for us they were never right in the middle of the road, but\nalways a little to one side or the other, and just left us enough _pav\u00e9_\nto squeeze past on, which was really very thoughtful of the Boche!\nThe country looked indescribably desolate; but funnily enough there were\na lot of birds flying about, mostly in flocks. Two little partridges\nquietly strutted across the road and seemed quite unperturbed!\nFurther on we came across a dead horse, the first of many. It had been\nhit in the flank by a shell. It was a sad sight; the poor creature was\njust left lying by the side of the road, and I shall never forget it.\nThe crows had already taken out its eyes. I must say that that sight\naffected me much more than the men I had seen earlier in the day. There\nwas no one then to bury horses.\nWe came to the little _poste de secours_ and the officer told us they\nhad been heavily shelled that morning and he sent out an orderly to dig\nup some of the fuse-tops that had fallen in the field beyond. He gave us\nas souvenirs three lovely shell heads that had fused at the wrong time.\nEverything seemed strangely unreal, and I wondered at times if I was\nawake. He was delighted with the Hospital stores we had brought and\nshowed us his small dressing station, from which all the wounded had\nbeen removed after the bombardment was over. We then went on to another\nat Caeskerke within sight of Dixmude, the ruins of which could plainly\nbe seen. I found it hard to realize that this was really the much talked\nof \"front.\" One half expected to see rows and rows of regiments instead\nof everything being hidden away. Except for the extreme desolation and\ncontinual sound of firing we might have been anywhere.\nWe were held up by a sentry further on, and he demanded the _mot de\njour_. I leant out of the car (it always has to be whispered) and\nmurmured \"Gustave\" in a low voice into his ear. \"_Non, Mademoiselle_,\"\nhe said sadly, \"_pas \u00e7a_.\" \"Does he mean it isn't his own Christian\nname?\" I asked myself. Still it was the name we had been given at the\n\u00c9tat Major as the pass word. I repeated it again with the same result.\n\"I assure you the Colonel himself at C---- gave it to me,\" I added\ndesperately. He still shook his head, and then I remembered that some\ndays they had names of people and others the names of places, and\nperhaps I had been given the wrong one. \"Paris\" I hazarded. He again\nshook his head, and I decided to be firm and in a voice of conviction\nsaid, \"Allons, c'est 'Arras,' alors.\" He looked doubtful, and said,\n\"Perhaps with the English it is that to-day.\" He was giving me a\nloophole and I responded with fervour, \"Yes, yes, assuredly it is\n'Arras' with the English,\" and he waved us past. I thought regretfully\nhow easily a German spy might bluff the sentry in a similar manner.\nTime being precious I salved my conscience about it as we drew up in\nPervyse and decided to make tea. I saw a movement among the ruins and\nthere, peeping round one of the walls, was a ragged hungry looking\ninfant about eight years of age. We made towards him, but he fled, and\npicking our way over the ruins we actually found a family in residence\nin a miserable hovel behind the onetime H\u00f4tel de Ville. There was an old\ncouple, man and wife, and a flock of ragged children, the remnants of\ndifferent families which had been wiped out. They only spoke Flemish and\nI brought out the few sentences I knew, whereupon the old dame seized my\narm and poured out such a flow of words that I was quite at a loss to\nknow what she meant. I did gather, however, that she had a niece of\nsixteen in the inner room, who spoke French, and that she would go and\nfetch her. The niece appeared at this moment and was dragged forward;\nall she would say, however, was \"_Tiens, tiens!_\" to whatever we asked\nher, so we came to the conclusion that was the limit to her knowledge of\nFrench, very non-committal and not frightfully encouraging. So with much\nbowing and smiling we departed on our way, after distributing the\nremainder of our buns among the group of wide-eyed hungry looking\nchildren who watched us off. The old man had stayed in his corner the\nwhole time muttering to himself. His brain seemed to be affected, which\nwas not much wonder considering what he had been through, poor old\nthing!\nOn our way back to Ramscapelle we had the bad luck to slip off the\n\"bloomin' pavee\" while passing an ammunition wagon; a thing I had been\ndreading all along. I got out on the foot board and stepped, in the\npanic of the moment, into the mud. I thought I was never going to \"touch\nbottom.\" I did finally, and the mud was well above my knees. The passing\nsoldiers were greatly amused and pulled me to shore, and then, stepping\ninto the slough with a grand indifference, soon got the car up again.\nThe evening was drawing in, and the land all round had been flooded. As\nthe sun set, the most glorious lights appeared, casting purple shadows\nover the water: It seemed hard to believe we were so near the trenches,\nbut there on the road were the men filing silently along on their way to\nenter them as soon as dusk fell. They had large packs of straw on their\nbacks which we learnt was to ensure their having a dry place to sit in;\nand when I saw the trenches later on I was not surprised at the\nprecaution.\nMysterious \"Star-lights\" presently made their appearance over the German\ntrenches, gleamed for a moment, and then went out leaving the landscape\nvery dark and drear. We hurried on back to Ramscapelle, sentries popping\nup at intervals to enquire our business. Floods stretched on either side\nof the road as far as the eye could see. We were obliged to crawl at a\nsnail's pace as it grew darker. Of course no lights of any sort were\nallowed, and the lines of soldiers passing along silently to their posts\nin the trenches seemed unending; we were glad when we drew up once again\nat the Headquarters in Ramscapelle.\nMajor R. hastened out and told us that his own men who had been in the\ntrenches for four days were just coming out for a rest, and he wished we\ncould spare some of our woollies for them. We of course gladly assented,\nso he lined them up in the street littered with d\u00e9bris in front of the\nHeadquarters. We each had a sack of things and started at different ends\nof the line, giving every man a pair of socks, a muffler or scarf,\nwhichever he most wanted. In nearly every case it was socks; and how\nglad and grateful they were to get them! It struck me as rather funny\nwhen I noticed cards in the half-light affixed to the latter, texts\n(sometimes appropriate, but more often not) and verses of poetry. I\nthought of the kind hands that had knitted them in far away England and\nwondered if the knitters had ever imagined their things would be given\nout like this, to rows of mud-stained men standing amid shell-riddled\nhouses on a dark and muddy road, their words of thanks half-drowned in\nthe thunder of war.\nCHAPTER V\nIN THE TRENCHES\nMajor R., who is a great admirer of things English, suddenly gave the\ncommand to his men, and out of compliment to us \"It's a long way to\nTipararee\" rang out. The pronunciation of the words was most odd and we\nlistened in wonder; the Major's chest however positively swelled with\npride, for he had taught them himself! We assured him, tactfully, the\nresult was most successful.\nWe returned to the Headquarters and sorted out stores for the trenches.\nThe Major at that moment received a telephone message to say a farm in\nthe Nieuport direction was being attacked. We looked up from our work\nand saw the shells bursting like fireworks, the noise of course was\ndeafening. We soon got accustomed to it and besides had too much to do\nto bother. When all was ready, we were given our instructions--we were\nto keep together till we had passed through the village when the doctor\nwould be there to meet us and, with a guide, conduct us to the trenches;\nwe were all to proceed twenty paces one after the other, no word was to\nbe spoken, and if a Verey light showed up we were to drop down flat. I\nhoped fervently it might not be in a foot of mud!\nOff we set, and I must say my heart was pounding pretty hard. It was\nrather nervy work once we were beyond the town, straining our eyes\nthrough the darkness to follow the figure ahead. Occasionally a sentry\npopped up from apparently nowhere. A whispered word and then on we went\nagain. I really can't say how far we walked like this; it seemed\npositively miles. Suddenly a light flared in the sky, illuminating the\nsurrounding country in an eerie glare. It didn't take me many minutes,\nneedless to say, to drop flat! Luckily it was _pav\u00e9_, but I would have\nwelcomed mud rather than be left standing silhouetted within sight of\nthe German trenches on that shell-riddled road. Finally we saw a long\nblack line running at right angles, and the guide in front motioned me\nto stop while he went on ahead.\nI had time to look round and examine the place as well as I could and\nalso to put down my bundle of woollies that had become extremely heavy.\nThese trenches were built against a railway bank (the railway lines had\nlong since been destroyed or torn up), and just beyond ran the famous\nYser and the inundations which had helped to stem the German advance. I\nwas touched on the shoulder at this point, and clambered down into the\ntrench along a very slippery plank. The men looked very surprised to see\nus, and their little dug-outs were like large rabbit hutches. I crawled\ninto one on my hands and knees as the door was very low. The two\noccupants had a small brazier burning. Straw was on the floor--the straw\nwe had previously seen on the men's backs--and you should have seen\ntheir faces brighten at the sight of a new pair of socks. We pushed on,\nas it was getting late. I shall never forget that trench--it was the\nsecond line--the first line consisting of \"listening posts\" somewhere in\nthat watery waste beyond, where the men wore waders reaching well above\ntheir knees. We squelched along a narrow strip of plank with the\ntrenches on one side and a sort of cesspool on the other--no wonder they\ngot typhoid, and I prayed I mightn't slip.\nWe could walk upright further on without our heads showing, which was a\ncomfort, as it is extremely tiring to walk for long in a stooping\nposition. Through an observation hole in the parapet we looked right out\nacross the inundations to where the famous \"Ferme Violette,\" which had\nchanged hands so often and was at present German, could plainly be seen.\nDark objects were pointed out to us sticking up in the water which the\nsergeant cheerfully observed, holding his nose the meanwhile, were\n_sales Boches_! We hurried on to a bigger dug-out and helped the doctor\nwith several _bless\u00e9s_ injured that afternoon, and later we helped to\nremove them back to the village and thence to a field hospital. Just\nthen we began bombarding with the 75's. which we had seen earlier on.\nThe row was deafening--first a terrific bang, then a swizzing through\nthe air with a sound like a sob, and then a plop at the other end where\nit had exploded--somewhere. At first, as with all newcomers in the\nfiring line, we ducked our heads as the shells went over, to a roar of\ndelight from the men, but in time we gave that up. During this\nbombardment we went on distributing our woollies all along the line, and\nI thought my head would split at any moment, the noise was so great. I\nasked one of the officers, during a pause, why the Germans weren't\nreplying, and he said we had just got the range of one of their\npositions by 'phone, and as these guns we were employing had just been\nbrought up, the Boche would not waste any shells until they thought they\nhad our range.\nPresently we came to the officer's dug-out, and, would you believe it,\nhe had small windows with lace curtains! They were the size of pocket\nhandkerchiefs; still the fact remains, they _were_ curtains. He showed\nus two bits of a shell that had burst above the day before and made the\nroof collapse, but since then the damage had been remedied by a stout\nbeam. He was a merry little man with twinkling eyes and very proud of\nhis little house.\nOur things began to give out at this point and we were not at the end of\nthe line by any means. It was heart breaking to hear one man say, \"Une\npaire de chaussettes, Mees, je vous en prie; il y a trois mois depuis\nque j'en ai eu.\" (A pair of socks, miss, I beseech you, it's three\nmonths since I had any). I gave him my scarf, which was all I had left,\nand could only turn sorrowfully away. He put it on immediately,\ncheerfully accepting the substitute.\nWe were forced to make our adieux at this point, as there was no reason\nfor us to continue along the line. We promised to bring more things the\nnext night and start at the point where we had left off. I thought\nregretfully it would be some days before my turn came round again.\nThe same care had to be observed on the return journey, and we could\nonly speak in the softest of whispers. The bombardment had now died away\nas suddenly as it had begun. The men turned from their posts to whisper\n\"_Bon soir, bonne chance_,\" or else \"_Dieu vous b\u00e9nisse_.\" The silence\nafter that ear-splitting din was positively uncanny: it made one feel\none wanted to shout or whistle, or do something wild; anything to break\nit. One almost wished the Germans would retaliate! That silent monster\nonly such a little way from us seemed just waiting to spring. We crawled\none by one out of the trenches on to the road, and began the perilous\njourney homewards with the _bless\u00e9s_, knowing that at any moment the\nGermans might begin bombarding. As we were resting the Captain of the\nbattery joined us, and in the semi-darkness I saw he was offering me a\nbunch of snowdrops! It certainly was an odd moment to receive a bouquet,\nbut somehow at the time it did not seem to be particularly out of place,\nand I tucked them into the belt of my tunic and treasured them for days\nafterwards--snowdrops that had flowered regardless of war in the garden\nof some cottage long since destroyed.\nArrived once more at Headquarters we were pressed to a _petit verre_ of\nsome very hot and raw liqueur, but nevertheless very warming, and very\ngood. I felt I agreed with the Irish coachman who at his first taste\ndeclared \"The shtuff was made in Hiven but the Divil himself invinted\nthe glasses!\" We had got terribly cold in the trenches. After taking\nleave of our kind hosts we set off for the Hospital.\nIt was now about 1.30 a.m., and we were stopped no less than seventeen\ntimes on our way back. As it was my job to lean out and whisper into the\nsentry's \"pearly,\" I got rather exasperated. By the time I'd passed the\nseventeenth \"Gustave,\" I felt I'd risk even a bayonet to be allowed to\nsnooze without interruption. The _bless\u00e9s_ were deposited in Hospital\nand the car, once rid of its wounded load, sped through the night back\nto Lamarck, and I wondered sleepily if my first visit to the trenches\nwas a reality or only a dream.\nCHAPTER VI\nTHE TYPHOID WARDS\nWhen I first came to Hospital I had been put as V.A.D. in Ward I, on the\nsurgical side, and at ten o'clock had heard \"shop\" (which by the way was\nstrictly debarred, but nevertheless formed the one and only topic of\nconversation), from nurses and sisters in the Typhoid Wards, but had\nnever actually been there myself. As previously explained the three\nTyphoid Wards--rooms leading one out of the other on the ground\nfloor--were in a separate building joined only by some outhouses to the\nmain portion, thus forming three sides of the paved yard.\nThe east end of the Cathedral with its beautiful windows completed the\nsquare, and in the evenings it was very restful to hear the muffled\nsounds of the old organ floating up through the darkness.\nSister Wicks asked me one day to go through these wards with her. It\nmust be remembered that at this early period there were no regular\ntyphoid hospitals; and in fact ours was the only hospital in the place\nthat would take them in, the others having refused. Our beds were\ntherefore always full, and the typhoid staff was looked on as the\nhardest worked in the Hospital, and always tried to make us feel that\nthey were the only ones who did any real work!\nIt was difficult to imagine these hollow-cheeked men with glittering\neyes and claw-like hands were the men who had stemmed the German rush at\nLi\u00e9ge. Some were delirious, others merely plucking at the sheets with\ntheir wasted fingers, and everywhere the sisters and nurses were\nhurrying to and fro to alleviate their sufferings as much as possible. I\nshall always see the man in bed sixteen to this day. He was extremely\nfair, with blue eyes and a light beard. I started when I first saw him,\nhe looked so like some of the pictures of Christ one sees; and there was\nan unearthly light in his eyes. He was delirious and seemed very ill.\nThe sister told me he had come down with a splendid fighting record, and\nwas one of the worst cases of pneumonic typhoid in the ward. My heart\nached for him, and instinctively I shivered, for somehow he did not seem\nto belong to this world any longer. We passed on to Ward III, where I\nwas presented to \"Le Petit Sergent,\" a little bit of a man, so cheery\nand bright, who had made a marvellous recovery, but was not yet well\nenough to be moved. Everywhere was that peculiar smell which seems\ninseparable from typhoid wards in spite, or perhaps because of, the many\ndisinfectants. We left by the door at the end of Salle III and once in\nthe sunlight again, I heaved a sigh of relief; for frankly I thought the\nthree typhoid Salles the most depressing places on earth. They were\ndark, haunting, and altogether horrible. \"Well,\" said Sergeant Wicks\ncheerfully, \"what do you think of the typhoid Wards? Splendid aren't\nthey? You should have seen them at first.\" As I made no reply, she\nrattled gaily on, \"Well, I hope you will find the work interesting when\nyou come to us as a pro. to-morrow.\" I gasped. \"Am I to leave the\n_bless\u00e9s_, then?\" was all I could feebly ask--\"Why, yes, didn't they\ntell you?\"--and she was off before I could say anything more.\nWhen one goes to work in France one can't pick and choose, and the next\nmorning saw me in the typhoid wards which soon I learnt to love, and\nwhich I found so interesting that I hardly left them from that time\nonwards, except for \"trench duty.\"\nI was in Salle I at first--the less serious cases--and life seemed one\neternal rush of getting \"feeds\" for the different patients, \"doing\nmouths,\" and making \"Bengers.\" All the boiling and heating was done in\none big stove in Salle II. Each time I passed No. 16 I tried not to look\nat him, but I always ended in doing so, and each time he seemed to be\nthinner and more ethereal looking. He literally went to skin and bone.\nHe must have been such a splendid man, I longed for him to get better,\nbut one morning when I passed, the bed was empty and a nurse was\ndisinfecting the iron bedstead. For one moment I thought he had been\nmoved. \"Where--What?\" I asked, disjointedly of the nurse. \"Died in the\nnight,\" she said briefly. \"Don't look like that,\" and she went on with\nher work. No. 16 had somehow got on my mind, I suppose because it was\nthe first bad typhoid case I had seen, and from the first I had taken\nsuch an interest in him. One gets accustomed to these things in time,\nbut I never forgot that first shock. In the afternoons the men's\ntemperatures rose alarmingly, and most of the time was spent in\n\"blanket-bathing\" which is about the most back-aching pastime there is;\nbut how the patients loved to feel the cool sponges passing over their\nfeverish limbs. They were so grateful and, though often too ill to\nspeak, would smile their thanks, and one felt it was worth all the\nbackaches in the world.\nIt was such a virulent type of typhoid. Although we had been inoculated,\nwe were obliged to gargle several times during the day, and even then we\nalways had more or less of a \"typy\" throat.\nOur gallant sergeant, sister Wicks, who had organised and run the whole\nof the three Salles since November '14, suddenly developed para-typhoid,\nand with great difficulty was persuaded to go to bed. Fortunately she\ndid not have it badly, and in her convalescent stage I was sent to look\nafter her up at the \"shop window.\" I was anxious to get her something\nreally appetising for lunch, and presently heard one of the famous fish\nwives calling out in the street. I ran out and bargained with her, for\nof course she would have been vastly disappointed if I had given her the\noriginal price she asked. At last I returned triumphant with two nice\nlooking little \"Merlans,\" too small to cut their heads off, I decided. I\nhad never coped with fish before, so after holding them for some time\nunder the tap till they seemed clean enough, put them on to fry in\nbutter. I duly took them in on a tray to Wicks, and I'm sure they looked\nvery tasty. \"Have you cleaned them?\" she asked suspiciously. \"Yes, of\ncourse I have,\" I replied. She examined them. \"May I ask what you\n_did_?\" she said. \"I held them under the tap,\" I told her, \"there didn't\nseem anything more to be done,\" I added lamely.\nHow she laughed--I thought she was never going to stop--and I stood\nthere patiently waiting to hear the joke. She explained at length and\nsaid, \"No, take them away; you've made me feel ever so much better, but\nI'll have eggs instead, thank you.\" I went off grumbling, \"How on earth\nwas I to know anyway they kept their tummies behind their ears!\"\nThat fish story went all over the hospital.\nNursing in the typhoids was relieved by turns up to the trenches behind\nDixmude, which we looked forward to tremendously, but as they were\npractically--with slight variations in the matter of shelling and\nbombardments--a repetition of my first experience, there is no object in\nrecounting them here.\nThe typhoid doctor--\"Scrubby,\" by name; so called because of the\ninability of his chin to make up its mind if it would have a beard or\nnot--was very amusing, without of course meaning to be. He liked to\nwrite the reports of the patients in the Sister's book himself, and was\nvery proud of his English, and this is what occasionally appeared:\nPatient No. 12. \"If the man sleep, let him sleep.\"\nPatient No. 13. \"To have red win (wine) in the spoonful.\"\nPatient No. 14. \"If the man have a temper (i.e. temperature) reduce him\nwith the sponges.\" And he was once heard to remark with reference to a\nflat tyre: \"That tube is contrary to the swelling state!\"\nSo far, I have made no mention of the men orderlies, who I must say were\nabsolute bricks. There was Pierre, an alert little Bruxellois, who was\nin a bank before the war and kept his widowed mother. He was in constant\nfear as to her safety, for she had been left in their little house and\nhad no time to escape. He was well-educated and most interesting, and\noh, so gentle with the men. Then there was Louis, Zisk\u00e9, and Charlk\u00e9, a\nbig hefty Walloon who had been the butcher on a White Star liner before\nthe war, all excellent workers.\nAbout this time I went on night duty and liked it very much. One was\nmuch freer for one thing, and the sisters immediately became more human\n(especially when they relied on the pros. to cook the midnight supper!),\nand further there were no remarks or reflections about the defects of\nthe \"untrained unit\" who \"imagined they knew everything after four\nmonths of war.\" (With reference to cooking, I might here mention that\nsince the fish episode Mrs. Betton and I were on more than speaking\nterms!)[3]\nThere were several very bad cases in Salle II. One especially Sister\nfeared would not pull through. I prayed he might live, but it was not to\nbe. She was right--one night about 2 a.m. he became rapidly worse and\nperforation set in. The dreadful part was that he was so horribly\nconscious all the time. \"Miske,\" he asked, \"think you that I shall see\nmy wife and five children again?\" Before I could reply, he continued,\n\"They were there _l\u00e0 bas_ in the little house so happy when I left them\nin 1914--My God,\" and he became agitated. \"If it were not permitted that\nI return? Do you think I am going to die, Miske?\" \"You must try and keep\nthe patient from getting excited,\" said the calm voice of the Sister,\nwho did not speak French. He died about an hour later. It was terrible.\n\"Why must they go through so much suffering?\" I wondered miserably. If\nthey _are_ to die, why can't it happen at once?\"\nThis was the first typhoid death I had actually witnessed. In the\nmorning the sinister coffin cart flapped into the yard and bore him off\nto his last resting place. What, I wondered, happened to his wife and\nfive children?\nWhen I became more experienced I could tell if patients were going to\nrecover or not; and how often in the latter case I prayed that it might\nbe over quickly; but no, the fell disease had to take its course; and\neven the sisters said they had never seen such awful cases.\nCHAPTER VII\nTHE ZEPPELIN RAID\nOnce while on night duty I got up to go to a concert in the town at the\ntheatre in aid of the _Orphelins de la Guerre_. I must say when the\nFrenchman makes up his mind to have a charity concern he does it\nproperly, and with any luck it begins at 2.30 and goes on till about 9\nor possibly 10 p.m.\nThis was the first we had attended and they subsequently became quite a\nfeature of the place. It was held on a Sunday, and the entire population\nturned out _coliment\u00e9_ and _endimanch\u00e9_ to a degree. The French and\nBelgian uniforms were extraordinarily smart, and the Belgian guides in\ntheir tasselled caps, cheery breeches, and hunting-green tunics added\ncolour to the scene.\nThe Mayor of the town opened the performance with a long speech, the\npurport of which I forget, but it lasted one hour and ten minutes, and\nthen the performance began. There were several intervals during which\nthe entire audience left the salle and perambulated along the wide\ncorridors round the building to greet their friends, and drink champagne\nout of large flat glasses, served at fabulous prices by fair ladies of\nthe town clad in smart muslin dresses. The French Governor-General,\ncovered with stars and orders, was there in state with his\naides-de-camp, and the Belgian General ditto, and everyone shook hands\nand talked at once. Heasy and I stood and watched the scene fascinated.\nTea seemed to be an unheard of beverage. Presently we espied an\nEnglishman, very large and very tall, talking to a group of French\npeople. I remark on the fact because in those days there were no English\nanywhere near us, and to see a staff car passing through the town was\nquite an event. We were glad, as he was the only Englishman there, that\nour people had chosen the largest and tallest representative they could\nfind. Presently he turned, and looked as surprised to see two khaki-clad\nEnglish girls in solar topees (the pre-war F.A.N.Y. headgear), as I\nthink we were to see him.\nThe intervals lasted for half an hour, and I came to the conclusion they\nwere as much, if not more, part of the entertainment as the concert\nitself.\nIt was still going strong when we left at 7 p.m. to go on duty, and the\nfaithful \"Flossie\" (our Ford) bore us swiftly back to hospital and\ntyphoids.\nOn the night of March 18th, 1915, we had our second Zeppelin raid, when\nthe Hospital had a narrow escape. (The first one occurred on 23rd\nFebruary, wiping out an entire family near the \"Shop-window.\") I was\nstill on night duty and, crossing over to Typhoids with some dressings,\nnoticed how velvety the sky looked, with not a star to be seen.\nWe always had two orderlies on at night, and at 12 o'clock one of them\nwas supposed to go over to the kitchen and have his supper, and when he\ncame back at 12.30 the other went. On this particular occasion they had\nboth gone together. Sister had also gone over at 12 to supper, so I was\nleft absolutely alone with the fifty patients.[4]\nNone of the men at that time were particularly bad, except No. 23, who\nwas delirious and showed a marked inclination to try and get out of bed.\nI had just tucked him in safely for the twentieth time when at 12.30 I\nheard the throb of an engine. Aeroplanes were always flying about all\nday, so I did not think much of it. I half fancied it might be Sidney\nPickles, the airman, who had been to the Hospital several times and was\nkeen on stunt flying. This throbbing sounded much louder though than any\naeroplane, and hastily lowering what lights we had, with a final tuck to\nNo. 23, I ran to the door to ascertain if there was cause for alarm. The\nnoise was terrific and sounded like no engine I had ever heard in my\nlife. I gazed into the purple darkness and felt sure that I must see the\nthing, it seemed actually over my head. The expanse of sky to be seen\nfrom the yard was not very great, but suddenly in the space between the\nsurgical side and the Cathedral I could just discern an inky shadow,\nwhale-like in shape, with one small twinkling light like a wicked eye.\nThe machine was travelling pretty fast and fairly low down, and by its\nbulk I knew it to be a Zeppelin. I tore back into the ward where most of\nthe men were awake, and found myself saying, \"_Ce n'est rien, ce n'est\nqu'un Zeppelin_\" (\"It's nothing--only a Zeppelin\"), which on second\nthoughts I came to the conclusion was not as reassuring as I meant it to\nbe. By this time the others were on their way back across the yard, and\nI turned to give 23 another tuck up.\nSuch a long time elapsed before any firing occurred; it seemed to me\nwhen I first looked out into the yard I must be the only person who had\nheard the Zepp. What were the sentinels doing, I wondered? The\nexplanation I heard later from a French gunnery lieutenant. The man who\nhad the key to the ammunitions for the anti-aircraft guns was not at his\npost, and was subsequently discovered in a drunken sleep--probably the\nwork of German spies--at all events he was shot at dawn the following\nday. In such manner does France deal with her sons who fail her. As soon\nas the Zepp. had passed over, the firing burst forth in full vigour to\ndie away presently. So far, apparently, no bombs had been dropped. I\nsuggested to Pierre we should relight one or two lamps, as it was\nawkward stumbling about in complete darkness. \"_Non, non, Miske_, he\nwill return,\" he said with conviction. Apparently, though, all seemed\nquiet; and Sister suggested that after all the excitement, I should make\nmy way across the yard to get some supper. Pierre came with me, and at\nthat moment a dull explosion occurred. It was a bomb. The Zeppelin was\nstill there. The guns again blazed away, the row was terrific. Star\nshells were thrown up to try and locate the Zepp., and the sky was full\nof showering lights, blue, green, and pink. Four searchlights were\nplaying, shrapnel was bursting, and a motor machine gun let off volleys\nfrom sheer excitement, the sharp tut-tut-tut adding to the general\nconfusion. In the pauses the elusive Zepp. could be heard buzzing like\nsome gigantic angry bee. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. It\nlooked like a fireworks display, and the row was increasing each minute.\nEvery Frenchman in the neighbourhood let off his rifle with gusto.\nJust then we heard an extraordinary rushing noise in the air, like steam\nbeing let off from a railway engine. A terrific bang ensued, and then a\nflare. It was an incendiary bomb and was just outside the Hospital\nradius. I was glad to be in the open, one felt it would be better to be\nkilled outside than indoors. If the noise was bad before, it now became\ndeafening. Pierre suggested the _cave_, a murky cellar by the gate, but\nit seemed safer to stay where we were, leaning in the shadow against the\nwalls of Notre Dame. Very foolish, I grant you, but early in 1915 the\ndangers of falling shrapnel, etc., were not so well known. These events\nhappened in a few seconds. Suddenly Pierre pointed skywards. \"He is\nthere, up high,\" he cried excitedly. I looked, but a blinding light\nseemed to fill all space, the yard was lit up and I remember wondering\nif the people in the Zepp. would see us in our white overalls. The\nrushing sound was directly over our heads; there was a crash, the very\nwalls against which we were leaning rocked, and to show what one's mind\ndoes at those moments, I remember thinking that when the Cathedral\ntoppled over it would just fit nicely into the Hospital square.\nInstinctively I put my head down sheltering it as best I could with my\narms, while bricks, mortar, and slates rained on, and all around, us.\nThere was a heavy thud just in front of us, and when the dust had\ncleared away I saw it was a coping from the Cathedral, 2 feet by 4!\nNotre Dame had remained standing, but the bomb had completely smashed in\nthe roof of the chapel, against the walls of which we were leaning! It\nwas only due to their extreme thickness that we were saved, and also to\nthe fact that we were under the protection of the wall. Had we been\nfurther out the coping would assuredly have landed on us or else we\nshould have been hit by the shrapnel contained in the bombs, for the\nwall opposite was pitted with it. The dust was suffocating, and I heard\nPierre saying, \"Come away, Mademoiselle.\" Though it takes so long to\ndescribe, only a few minutes had elapsed since leaving to cross the\nyard. The beautiful East window of the Cathedral was shivered to atoms,\nand likewise every window in the Hospital. All our watches had stopped.\nCrashing over broken glass to the surgical side, we pantingly asked if\neveryone was safe. We met Porter coming down the stairs, a stream of\nblood flowing from a cut on her forehead. I hastily got some dressings\nfor it. Luckily it was only a flesh wound, and not serious. Besides the\nnight nurses at the Hospital, the chauffeurs and housekeeper slept in\nthe far end of the big room at the top of the building. They had not\nbeen awakened (so accustomed were they to din and noise), until the\ncrash of the bomb on the Cathedral, and it was by the glass being blown\nin on to their stretcher beds that Porter had been cut; otherwise no one\nelse was hurt.\nI plunged through the d\u00e9bris back to the typhoids, wondering how 23 had\ngot on, or rather got out, and, would you believe it, his delirium had\ngone and he was sleeping quietly like a child! The only bit of good the\nBoche ever did I fancy, for the shock seemed to cure him and he got well\nfrom that moment.\nThe others were in an awful mess, and practically every man's bed was\nfull of broken glass. You can imagine what it meant getting this out\nwhen the patients were suffering from typhoid, and had to be moved as\nlittle as possible! One boy in Salle V had a flower pot from the\nwindow-sill above fixed on his head! Beyond being slightly dazed, and of\ncourse covered with mould, he was none the worse; and those who were\nwell enough enjoyed his discomfiture immensely. Going into Salle III\nwhere there were shouts of laughter (the convalescents were sent to that\nroom) I saw a funny sight. One little man, who was particularly fussy\nand grumpy (and very unpopular with the other men in consequence), slept\nnear the stove, which was an old-fashioned coal one with a pipe leading\nup to the ceiling. The concussion had shaken this to such an extent that\naccumulations of soot had come down and covered him from head to foot,\nand he was as[5] black as a nigger! His expression of disgust was beyond\ndescription, and he was led through the other two wards on exhibition,\nwhere he was greeted with yells of delight. It was just as well, as it\nrelieved the tension. It can't be pleasant to be ill in bed and covered\nwith bits of broken glass and mortar, not to mention the uncertainty of\nwhether the walls are going to fall in or not. \"Ah,\" said the little\nSergeant to me, \"I have never had fear as I had last night.\" \"One is\nbetter in the trenches than in your Hospital, Miske,\" chimed in another.\n\"At least one can defend oneself.\"\nOne orderly--a new one whom I strongly suspected of being an\n_embusqu\u00e9_--was unearthed in our rounds from under one of the beds, and\ncame in for a lot of sarcasm, to the great joy of the patients who had\nall behaved splendidly.[6] With the exception of Pierre and the porter on\nthe surgical side, every man jack of them, including the Adjutant, had\nfled to the _cave_. A subsequent order came out soon after which amused\nus very much:--In the event of future air raids the _infirmiers_\n(orderlies) were to fly to the _cave_ with the convalescents while the\n_tr\u00e8s malades_ were to be left to the care of the _Mees anglaises_![7]\nIt took us till exactly 7 a.m. to get those three wards in anything like\norder, working without stopping. \"Uncle,\" who had dressed hurriedly and\ncome up to the Hospital from his Hotel to see if he could be of any use,\nbrought a very welcome bowl of Ivelcon about 2.30, which just made all\nthe difference, as I had had nothing since 7 the night before. It's\nsurprising how hungry Zeppelin raids make one!\nAn extract from the account which appeared in _The Daily Chronicle_ the\nfollowing morning was as follows:--\n\"One bomb fell on Notre Dame Cathedral piercing the vault of one of the\nChapels on the right transept and wreaking irreparable damage to the\nbeautiful old glass of its gothic windows. This same bomb, which must\nhave been of considerable size, sent d\u00e9bris flying into the courtyard of\nthe Lamarcq Hospital full of Belgian wounded being tended by English\nNurses.\n\"Altogether these Yeomanry nurses behaved admirably, for all the menfolk\nwith the exception of the doorkeeper\" (and Pierre, please), \"fled for\nrefuge to the cellars, and the women were left. In the neighbourhood one\nhears nothing but praise of these courageous Englishwomen. Another bomb\nfell on a railway carriage in which a number of mechanics--refugees from\nLille--were sleeping, as they had no homes of their own. The effect of\nthe bomb on these unfortunate men was terrible. They were all more or\nless mutilated; and heads, hands, and feet were torn off. Then flames\nbroke out on top of this carriage and in a moment the whole was one huge\nconflagration.\n\"As the Zeppelin drew off, its occupants had the sinister satisfaction\nof leaving behind them a great glare which reddened the sky for a full\nhour in contrast with the total blackness of the town.\"\nChris took out \"Flossie,\" and was on the scene of this last disaster as\nsoon as she could get into her clothes after being so roughly awakened\nby the splinters of glass.\nWhen the day staff arrived from the \"Shop-window,\" what a sight met\ntheir eyes! The poor old place looked as if it had had a night of it,\nand as we sat down to breakfast in the kitchen we shivered in the icy\nblasts that blew in gusts across the room, for of course the weather had\nmade up its mind to be decidedly wintry just to improve matters. It took\nweeks to get those windows repaired, as there was a run on what glaziers\nthe town possessed. The next night our plight in typhoids was not one to\nbe envied--Army blankets had been stretched inadequately across the\nwindows and the beds pulled out of the way of draughts as much as\npossible, but do what we could the place was like an icehouse; the snow\nfiltered softly through the flapping blankets, and how we cursed the\nHun! At 3 a.m. one of the patients had a relapse and died.\nCHAPTER VIII\nCONCERNING BATHS, \"JOLIE ANNETTE,\" \"MARIE-MARGOT\" AND \"ST. INGLEVERT.\"\nAfter this event I was sent back for a time to the _bless\u00e9s graves_ on\nthe surgical side on day duty. All who had been on duty that memorable\nnight had had a pretty considerable shock. It was like leaving one world\nand stepping into another, so complete was the change from typhoids.\nThe faithful Jefk\u00e9 was still there stealing jam for the patients,\nspending a riotous Saturday night _au cin\u00e9ma_, going to Mass next\nmorning, and then presenting himself in the Ward again looking as if\nbutter would not melt in his mouth!\nA new assistant orderly was there as well. A pious looking individual in\nspecs. He worked as if manual labour pained him, and was always studying\nout of a musty little book. He was desperately keen to learn English and\nspoke it on every possible occasion; was intensely stupid as an orderly\nand obstinate as a mule. He was trying in the extreme. One day he told\nme he was intended for higher things and would soon be a priest in the\nChurch. Sister Lampen, who was so quick and thorough herself, found him\nparticularly tiresome, and used to refer to him as her \"cross\" in life!\nOne day she called him to account, and, in an exasperated voice said,\n\"What are you supposed to be doing here, Louis, anyway? Are you an\norderly or aren't you?\" \"_Mees_,\" he replied piously, rolling his eyes\nupwards, \"I am learning to be a father!\" I gave a shriek of delight and\nhastened up to tea in the top room with the news.\nWe were continually having what was known as _alertes_, that the Germans\nwere advancing on the town. We had boxes ready in all the Wards with a\nlist on the lid indicating what particular dressings, etc., went in\neach. None of the _alertes_, however, materialized. We heard later it\nwas only due to a Company of the gallant Buffs throwing themselves into\nthe breach that the road to Calais had been saved.\nThere were several exciting days spent up at our Dressing Station at\nHoogstadt, and one day to our delight we heard that three of the\nF.A.N.Y.'s, who had been in the trenches during a particularly bad\nbombardment, were to be presented with the Order of Leopold II. A daily\npaper giving an account of this dressing station headed it, in their\nenthusiasm, \"Ten days without a change of clothes. Brave Yeomanry\nNurses!\"\nIt was a coveted job to post the letters and then go down to the Quay to\nwatch the packet come in from England. The letters, by the way, were\nposted in the guard's van of a stationary train where Belgian soldiers\nsorted and despatched them. I used to wonder vaguely if the train rushed\noff in the night delivering them.\nThere was a charm and fascination about meeting that incoming boat; the\nrattle of chains, the clang as the gangway was fixed, the strange cries\nof the French sailors, the clicking of the bayonets as the cordon formed\nround the fussy passport officer, and lastly the excitement of watching\nto see if there was a spy on board. The _Walmer Castle_ and the\n_Canterbury_ were the two little packets employed, and they have\ncertainly seen life since the war began. Great was our excitement if we\ncaught sight of Field Marshal French on his way to G.H.Q., or King\nAlbert, his tall form stooping slightly under the cares of State, as he\nstepped into his waiting car to be whirled northwards to _La Panne_.\nThe big Englishman (accompanied by a little man disguised in very plain\nclothes as a private Detective) also scanned every passenger closely as\nhe stepped on French soil, and we turned away disgustedly as each was\nable to furnish the necessary proof that he was on lawful business.\n\"Come, Struttie, we must fly,\" and back we hurried over the bridge, past\nthe lighthouse, across the Place d'Armes, up the Rue de la Rivi\u00e8re and\nso to Hospital once more.\nWhen things became more settled, definite off times were arranged. Up to\nthen sisters and nurses had worked practically all day and every day, so\ngreat was the rush. We experienced some difficulty in having baths, as\nthere were none up at the \"Shop.\" Dr. Cools from the Gare Centrale told\nus some had been fitted in a train down there, and permission was\nobtained for us to use them. But first we were obliged to present\nourselves to the Commandant (for the Railway shed there had been turned\ninto an _H\u00f4pital de Passage_, where the men waited on stretchers till\nthey were collected each morning by ambulances for the different\nHospitals), and ask him to be kind enough to furnish a _Bon pour un\nbain_ (a bath pass)! When I first went to the Bureau at the gare and saw\nthis Commandant in his elegant tight-fitting navy blue uniform, with\npointed grey beard and general air of importance, I felt that to ask him\nfor a \"bath ticket\" was quite the last thing on earth! He saw my\nhesitation, and in the most natural manner in the world said with a bow,\n\"Mademoiselle has probably come for _un bon_?\" I assented gratefully,\nwas handed the pass and fled. It requires some courage to face four\nofficials in order to have a bath.\nArrived at the said train, one climbed up a step-ladder in to a truck\ndivided into four partitions, and Zisk\u00e9, a deaf old Flamand, carried\nbuckets of boiling water from the engine and we added what cold we\nwanted ourselves. You will therefore see that when anyone asked you what\nyou were doing in your free time that day and you said you were \"going\nto have a bath,\" it was understood that it meant the whole afternoon\nwould be taken up.\nAt first we noticed the French people seemed a little stiff in their\nmanner and rather on the defensive. We wondered for some time what could\nbe the reason, and chatting one day with Madame at the dug-out I\nmentioned the fact to her.\n\"See you, Mademoiselle, it is like this,\" she explained, \"you others,\nthe English, had this town many years ago, and these unlettered ones,\nwho read never the papers and know nothing, think you will take\npossession of the town once again.\" Needless to say in time this\nimpression wore off and they became most friendly.\nThe Place d'Armes was a typical French marketplace and very picturesque.\nAt one corner of the square stood the town hall with a turret and a very\npretty Carillon called \"Jolie Annette,\" since smashed by a shell. I\nasked an old shopkeeper why the Carillon should be called by that name\nand he told me that in 1600 a well-to-do _commer\u00e7ant_ of the town had\nbuilt the turret and promised a Carillon only on the condition that it\nshould be a line from a song sung by a fair lady called \"Jolie Annette,\"\nperforming at a music hall or Caf\u00e9 Chantant in the town at that time.\nThe inhabitants protested, but he refused to give the Carillon unless he\ncould have his own way, which he ultimately did. Can't you imagine the\noutraged feelings of the good burghers? \"_Que voulez-vous,\nMademoiselle_,\" the old man continued, shrugging his shoulders, \"_Jolie\nAnnette ne chante pas mal, hein?_\" and I agreed with him.\nI thought it was rather a nice story, and I often wondered, when I\nheard that little song tinkling out, exactly what \"Jolie Annette\" really\nlooked like, and I quite made up my mind on the subject. Of course she\nhad long side curls, a slim waist, lots of ribbons, a very full skirt,\nwhite stockings, and a pair of little black shoes, and last but not\nleast, a very bewitching smile. It is sad to think that a shell has\nsilenced her after all these years, and I hope so much that someone will\nrestore the Carillon so that she can sing her little song once again.\nIn one corner of the square was a house (now turned into a furniture\nshop) where one of the F.A.N.Y.'s great-grandmothers had stayed when\nfleeing with the Huguenots to England. They had finally set off across\nthe Channel in rowing boats. Some sportsmen!\nMarket days on Saturdays were great events, and little booths filled up\nthe whole _place_, and what bargains one could make! We bought all the\navailable flowers to make the wards as bright as possible. In the\nafternoons when there was not much to do except cut dressings, I often\nsat quietly at my table and listened to the discussions which went on in\nthe ward. The Belgian soldier loves an argument.\nOne day half in French, and half in Flemish, they were discussing what\ncourse they would pursue if they found a wounded German on the\nbattlefield. \"_Tuez-le comme un lapin_,\" cried one. \"_Faut les\nzigouiller tous_,\" cried another (almost untranslatable slang, but\nmeaning more or less \"choke the lot\"). \"_Ba, non, sauvez-le p'is qu'il\nest bless\u00e9_,\" cried a third to which several agreed. This discussion\nwaxed furious till finally I was called on to arbitrate. One boy was\nrapidly working himself into a fever over the question. He was out to\nkill any Boche under any conditions, and I don't blame him. This was his\nstory:\nIn the little village where he came from, the Germans on entering had\ntreated the inhabitants most brutally. He was with his old father and\nmother and young brother of eight--(It was August 1914 and his class had\nnot yet been called up). Some Germans marched into the little cottage\nand shaking the old woman roughly by the arm demanded something to\ndrink. His mother was very deaf and slow in her movements and took some\ntime to understand. \"Ha,\" cried one brute, \"we will teach you to walk\nmore quickly,\" and without more ado he ran his sword through her poor\nold body. The old man sprang forward, too late to save her, and met with\nthe same fate. The little brother had been hastily hidden in an empty\ncistern as they came in. \"Thus, Mademoiselle,\" the boy ended, \"I have\nseen killed before my eyes my own father and mother; my little brother\nfor all I know is also dead. I have yet to find out. I myself was taken\nprisoner, but luckily three days later managed to escape and join our\narmy; do you therefore blame me, _Miske_, if I wish to kill as many of\nthe swine as possible?\" He sank back literally purple in the face with\nrage, and a murmur of sympathy went round the Ward. His wound was not a\nserious one, for which I was thankful, or he might have done some harm.\nOne evening I was wandering through the \"Place d'Armes\" when some\nviolins in a music shop caught my eye. I went in and thus became\nacquainted with the family T\u00e9tar, consisting of an old father and his\ntwo daughters. They were exceedingly friendly and allowed me to try all\nthe violins they had. At last I chose a little \"Mirecourt\" with a very\nnice tone, which I hired and subsequently bought.\nIn time Monsieur T\u00e9tar became very talkative, and even offered to play\naccompaniments for me. He had an organ in a large room above the shop\ncram full of old instruments, but in the end he seemed to think it might\nshow a want of respect to Madame his late wife (now dead two years), so\nthe accompanying never came off. For the same reason his daughter, who\nhe said \"in the times\" had played the violin well, had never touched her\ninstrument since the funeral.\nThere was one special song we heard very often rising up from the Caf\u00e9\nChantant, in the room at the dug-out. When I went round there to have\nsupper with them we listened to it entranced. It was a priceless tune,\nvery catching and with lots of go; I can hear it now. I was determined\nto try and get a copy, and went to see Monsieur T\u00e9tar about it one day.\nI told him we did not know the name, but this was the tune and hummed it\naccordingly. A French Officer looking over some music in a corner\nbecame convulsed and hurriedly ducked his head into the pages, and I\nbegan to wonder if it was quite the thing to ask for.\nMonsieur T\u00e9tar appeared to be somewhat scandalized, and exclaimed, \"I\nknow it, Mademoiselle, that song calls itself _Marie-Margot la\nCantini\u00e8re_, but it is, let me assure you, of a certainty not for the\nyoung girls!\" No persuasion on my part could produce it, so our\nacquaintance with the fair _Marie-Margot_ went no further than the tune.\nThe extreme gratitude of the patients was very touching. When they left\nfor Convalescent homes, other Hospitals, or to return to the trenches,\nwe received shoals of post cards and letters of thanks. When they came\non leave they never failed to come back and look up the particular\n_Miske_ who had tended them, and as often as not brought a souvenir of\nsome sort from _l\u00e0 bas_.\nOne man to whom I had sent a parcel wrote me the following letter. I\nmight add that in Hospital he knew no English at all and had taught\nhimself in the trenches from a dictionary. This was his letter:\n     \"My lady\" (Madame), \"The beautiful package is safely\n     arrived. I thank you profoundly from all my heart. The shawl\n     (muffler) is at my neck and the good socks are at my feet as\n     I write. Like that one has well warmth.\n     \"We go to make some caf\u00e9 also out of the package, this\n     evening in our house in the trenches, for which I thank you\n     again one thousand times.\n     \"Receive, my lady, the most distinguished sentiments on the\n     part of your devoted\nI remember my first joy-ride so well. \"Uncle\" took Porter and myself up\nto St. Inglevert with some stores for our small convalescent home, of\nwhich more anon.\nBefore proceeding further, I must here explain who \"Uncle\" was. He\njoined the Corps in 1914 in response to an advertisement from us in the\n_Times_ for a driver and ambulance, and was accepted immediately. He was\nover military age, and had had his Mors car converted into an ambulance\nfor work at the front, and went up to Headquarters one day to make final\narrangements. There, to his intense surprise, he discovered that the\n\"First Aid Nursing Yeomanry\" was a woman's, and not a man's show as he\nhad at first supposed.\nHe was so amused he laughed all the way down the Earls Court Road!\nHe bought his own petrol from the Belgian _Parc d'Automobiles_, and,\nwhen he was not driving wounded, took as many of the staff for joy-rides\nas he could.\nThe blow in the fresh air was appreciated by us perhaps more than he\nknew, especially after a hard morning in the typhoid wards.\nThe day in question was bright and fine and the air, when once we had\nleft the town and passed the inevitable barriers, was clear and\ninvigorating, like champagne. We soon arrived at St. Inglevert, which\nconsisted of a little Church, an _Estaminet_, one or two cottages, the\n_cur\u00e9's_ house, and a little farm with parish room attached. The latter\nwas now used as a convalescent home for our typhoid patients until they\nwere strong enough to take the long journey to the big camp in the South\nof France. The home was run by two of the F.A.N.Y.s for a fortnight at a\ntime. It was no uncommon sight to see them on the roads taking the\npatients out \"in crocodile\" for their daily walk! Many were the curious\nglances cast from the occupants of passing cars at the two khaki-clad\nEnglish girls, walking behind a string of sick-looking men in uniform.\nProbably they drove on feeling it was another of the unsolved mysteries\nof the war!\nWe found Bunny struggling with the stove in the tiny kitchen, where she\nsoon coaxed the kettle to boil and gave us a cup of tea. Before our\nreturn journey to Hospital we were introduced to the Cur\u00e9 of St.\nInglevert, who was half Irish and half French. He spoke English well and\ngave a great deal of assistance in running the home, besides being both\nwitty and amusing.\nWe visited the men who were having tea in their \"refectory\" under\nCicely's supervision, and once more returned to work at Lamarck.\nCHAPTER IX\nTYPHOIDS AGAIN, AND PARIS IN 1915\nI was on night duty once more in the typhoid wards with Sister Moring\nwhen we had our third bad Zeppelin raid, which was described in the\npapers as \"the biggest attempted since the beginning of the war.\" It\ncertainly was a wonderful sight.\nThe tocsin was rung in the _Place d'Armes_ about 11.30 p.m. followed by\nheavy gunfire from our now more numerous defences. Almost simultaneously\nbomb explosions could be heard. We hastily wrapped up what patients were\nwell enough to move, and the orderlies carried them to the \"cave.\"\nReturning across the yard one of them called out that there were three\nZeppelins this time, but though the searchlights were playing, we saw no\nsign of them, and presently the \"all clear\" was sounded.\nWe had just got the patients from the _cave_ back into bed again when\nhalf an hour later a second alarm was heard. Our feelings on hearing\nthis could only be described as \"terse,\" a favourite F.A.N.Y.\nexpression. If only the brutes would leave Hospitals alone instead of\nupsetting the patients like this.\nThe sky presented a wonderful spectacle. Half a dozen searchlights were\nplaying, and shells were continually bursting in mid-air with a dull\nroar. On our way back from the _cave_ where we had again deposited the\npatients, the searchlights suddenly focussed all three Zeppelins. There\nthey were like huge silver cigars gleaming against the stars. They\nlooked so splendid I couldn't help wishing I was up in one. It seemed\nimpossible to connect death-dealing bombs with those floating silver\nshapes. Shrapnel burst all round them, and then the Zepps. seemed\nsuddenly to become alive, and they answered with machine guns, and the\npatter of bullets and shrapnel could be heard all around. The Commander\nof one of the Zepps. apparently fearing his airship might be hit, must\nhave given the order for all the bombs to be heaved overboard at once,\nfor suddenly twenty-one fell simultaneously! You can imagine what a\nsight it was to see those golden balls of fire falling through the air\nfrom the silver airship. They fell in a field just outside the town near\na little village called _Les Barraques_, the total bag being five cows!\nIn spite of the three Zeppelins the Huns only succeeded in killing a\nbaby and an old lady. At last they were successfully driven off, and we\nsettled down hoping our excitements were over for the night, but no, at\n3.30 a.m. the tocsin again rang out a third alarm! This was getting\nbeyond a joke. The air duel recommenced, bombs were dropped, but\nfortunately no serious casualties occurred. Luckily at that time none of\nthe patients were in a serious condition, so we felt that for once the\nHun had been fairly considerate. It was surprising to find the\ncomparatively little damage the town had suffered. We had several others\nafter this, but they are not worth recording here.\nOne patient we had at that time was a Dutchman who had joined the\nBelgian Army in 1914. He was a very droll fellow, and told me he was the\nclown at one of the Antwerp Theatres and kept the people amused while\nthe scenes were being changed. I can quite believe this, for shouts of\nlaughter could always be heard in his vicinity. He was very good at\nimitating animals, and I discovered later that among other\naccomplishments he was also a ventriloquist. Sister and I, when the\nnecessary feeds had been given, used to sit in two deck chairs with a\nscreen shading the light, near the stove in the middle ward, until the\nnext were due. One night I heard a cat mewing. It seemed to be almost\nunder my chair, I got up and looked everywhere. Yes, there it was again,\nbut this time coming from under one of the men's beds. It was a piteous\nmew, and I was determined to find it. I spent a quarter of an hour on\ntiptoe looking everywhere. It was not till I heard a stifled chuckle\nfrom the bed next the Dutchman's that I suspected anything, and then,\ndetermined they should get no rise out of me, sat down quietly in my\nchair again. Though that cat mewed for the next ten minutes I never\nturned an eyelash!\nI liked night duty very much, there was something exhilarating about it,\nprobably because I was new to it, and probably also because I slept like\na top in the daytime (when I didn't get up, breathe it quietly, to steal\nout for rides on the sands!). I liked the walk across the yard with the\ngaunt old Cathedral showing black against the purple sky, its poor East\nwindow now tied up with sacking.\nOne night about 1 a.m. I came in from supper in my flat soft felt\nslippers, and from sheer joy of living executed, quite noiselessly, a\nfew steps for Sister's benefit down the middle of the Ward! It was a\ngreat temptation, and needless to say not appreciated by Sister as much\nas I had hoped. I heard subdued clapping from the clown's bed, and there\nwas the wretch wide awake (he was not unlike Morton to look at), sitting\nup in bed and grinning with joy!\nThe next morning as I was going off duty he called me over to him. \"_He,\nMiske Kinike_,\" he said, in his funny half Dutch, half Flemish, \"if\nafter the war you desire something to do I will arrange that you appear\nwith me before the curtain goes up, at the Antwerp Theatre!\" He made the\noffer in all seriousness, and realizing this, I replied I would\ncertainly think the proposition over, and fled across to have breakfast\nand tell them my future had been arranged for most suitably.\nThe rolls, the long French kind, were brought each morning in \"Flossie,\"\nby the day staff on their way up from the \"shop\" referred to in a\nF.A.N.Y. alphabet as\n     \"R's for the 'Roll-call'\"--a terrible fag--\n     \"Fetching six yards of bread, done up in a bag!\"\nThe other meals were provided by the Belgians and supplemented to a\ngreat extent by us. I am quite convinced we often ate good old horse.\nOne day, when prowling round the shops to get something fresh for the\nnight staff's supper, I went into a butcher's. The good lady came\nforward to ask me what I wished. I told her; and she smiled agreeably,\nsaying, \"Impossible, Mademoiselle, since long time we have only horse\nhere for sale!\" I got out of that shop with speed.\nThe orderlies on night duty, on the surgical side, were a lazy lot and\nslept the whole night through, more often than not on the floor of the\nkitchen. One night the incomparable \"Jefk\u00e9,\" who was worse than most,\nwas fast asleep in a dark spot near the big stove, when I went to get\nsome hot water. He was practically invisible, so I narrowly missed\nstepping on his head, and, as it was, collapsed over him, breaking the\ntea-pot. Cicely, the ever witty, quickly parodied one of the \"Ruthless\nRhymes,\" and said:--\n     \"Pat who trod on Jefk\u00e9's face\n      (He was fast asleep, so let her,)\n      Put the pieces back in place,\n      Saying, 'Don't you think he looks _much_ better'?\"\n(I can't vouch for the truth of the last line.)\nOne day when up at the front we attended part of a concert given by the\nObservation Balloon Section in a barn, candles stuck in bottles the only\nilluminations; we were however obliged to leave early to go on to the\ntrenches. Outside in the moonlight, which was almost as light as day, we\nfound the men busy sharpening their bayonets.\nAnother day up at Bourbourg, where we had gone for a ride, on a precious\nafternoon off, we saw the first camouflaged field hospital run by\nMillicent, Duchess of Sutherland, for the Belgians--the tents were weird\nand wonderful to behold, and certainly defied detection from a distance.\nHeasy and I were walking down the _Rue_ one afternoon, which was the\nBond Street of this town, when the private detective aforementioned came\nup and asked to see our identification cards. These we were always\nsupposed to carry about with us wherever we went. Besides the hospital\nstamp and several others, it contained a passport photo and signature.\nOf course we had left them in another pocket, and in spite of\nprotestations on our part we were requested to proceed to the citadel or\nreturn to hospital to be identified. To our mortification we were\nfollowed at a few yards by the detective and a soldier! Never have I\nfelt such an inclination to take to my heels. As luck would have it, tea\nwas in progress in the top room, and they all came down _en masse_ to\nsee the two \"spies.\" The only comfort we got, as they all talked and\nlaughed at our expense, was to hear one of the detectives softly\nmurmuring to himself, \"Has anyone heard of the Suffragette movement\nhere?\"\nWe learnt later that Boche spies disguised in our uniform had been seen\nin the vicinity of the trenches. That the Boche took an interest in our\nCorps we knew, for, in pre-war days, we had continually received\napplications from German girls who wished to become members. Needless to\nsay they were never accepted.\nThe first English troops began to filter into the town about this time,\nand important \"red hats\" with brassards bearing the device \"L. of C.\"\nwalked about the place as if indeed they had bought every stone.\nGreat were our surmises as to what \"L. of C.\" actually stood for, one\nsuggestion being \"Lords of Creation,\" and another, \"Lords of Calais\"! It\nwas comparatively disappointing to find out it only stood for \"Lines of\nCommunication.\"\nEnglish people have a strange manner of treating their compatriots when\nthey meet in a foreign country. You would imagine that under the\ncircumstances they would waive ceremony and greet one another in\npassing, but no, such is not the case. If they happen to pass in the\nsame street they either look haughtily at each other, with apparently\nthe utmost dislike, or else they gaze ahead with unseeing eyes.\nWe rather resented this \"invasion,\" as we called it, and felt we could\nno longer flit freely across the Place d'Armes in caps and aprons as\nheretofore.\nIn June of 1915, my first leave, after six months' work, was due.\nInstead of going to England I went to friends in Paris. The journey was\nan adventure in itself and took fourteen hours, a distance that in peace\ntime takes four or five. We stopped at every station and very often in\nbetween. When this occurred, heads appeared at every window to find out\nthe reason. _\"Qu' est ce qu'il y'a?\"_ everyone cried at once. It was\ninvariably either that a troop train was passing up the line and we must\nwait for it to go by, or else part of the engine had fallen off. In the\ncase of the former, the train was looked for with breathless interest\nand handkerchiefs waved frantically, to be used later to wipe away a\nfurtive tear for those _brave poilus_ or \"Tommees\" who were going to\nfight for _la belle France_ and might never return.\nIf it was the engine that collapsed, the passengers, with a resigned\nexpression, returned to their seats, saying placidly: \"_C'est la\nguerre, que voulez-vous_,\" and no one grumbled or made any other\ncomment. With a grunt and a snort we moved on again, only to stop a\nlittle further up the line. I came to the conclusion that that rotten\nengine must be tied together with string. No one seemed to mind or\nworry. \"He will arrive\" they said optimistically, and talked of other\nthings. At every station fascinating-looking _infirmi\u00e8res_ from the\nFrench Red Cross, clad in white from top to toe, stepped into the\ncarriage jingling little white tin boxes. \"_Messieurs, Mesdames, pour\nles bless\u00e9s, s'il vous pla\u00eet_,\"[8] they begged, and everyone fumbled\nwithout a murmur in their pockets. I began with 5 francs, but by the\ntime I'd reached Paris I was giving ha' pennies.\nAt Amiens a dainty Parisienne stepped into the compartment. She was clad\nin a navy blue _tailleur_ with a very smart pair of high navy blue kid\nboots and small navy blue silk hat. The other occupants of the carriage\nconsisted of a well-to-do old gentleman in mufti, who, I decided, was a\n_commer\u00e7ant de vin_, and two French officers, very spick and span,\nobviously going on leave. _La petite dame bien mise_, as I christened\nher, sat in the opposite corner to me, and the following conversation\ntook place. I give it in English to save translation:\nAfter a little general conversation between the officers and the old\n_commer\u00e7ant_ the latter suddenly burst out with:--\"Ha, what I would like\nwell to know is, do the Scotch soldiers wear the _pantalons_ or do they\nnot?\" Everyone became instantly alert. I could see _la petite dame bien\nmise_ was dying to say something. The two French officers addressed\nshrugged their shoulders expressive of ignorance in the matter. After\nfurther discussion, unable to contain herself any longer, _la petite\ndame_ leant forward and addressing herself to the _commer\u00e7ant_, said,\n\"Monsieur, I assure you that they do _not_!\"\nThe whole carriage \"sat up and took notice,\" and the old _commer\u00e7ant_,\nshaking his finger at her said:\n\"Madame, if you will permit me to ask, that is, if it is not indiscreet,\nhow is it that you are in a position to know?\"\nThe officers were enjoying themselves immensely. _La petite dame_\nhastened to explain. \"Monsieur, it is that my window at Amiens she\noverlooks the ground where these Scotch ones play the football, and then\na good little puff of wind and one sees, but of course,\" she concluded\nvirtuously, \"I have not regarded, Monsieur.\"\nThey all roared delightedly, and the old _commer\u00e7ant_ said something to\nthe effect of not believing a word. \"Be quiet, Monsieur, I pray of you,\"\nshe entreated, \"there is an English young girl in the corner and she\nwill of a certainty be shocked.\" \"_Bah, non_,\" replied the old\n_commer\u00e7ant_, \"the English never understand much of any language but\ntheir own\" (I hid discreetly behind my paper).\nAs we neared Paris there was another stop before the train went over the\ntemporary bridge that had been erected over the Oise. We could still see\nthe other that had been blown up by the French in order to stem the\nGerman advance on Paris in August 1914. This shattered bridge brought it\nhome to me how very near to Paris the Boche had been.\nAs I stepped out of the Gare du Nord all the people were looking\nskywards at two Taubes which had just dropped several bombs. Some\nwelcome, I thought to myself!\nParis in War time at that period (June, 1915) wore rather the\nappearance of a deserted city. Every third shop had notices on the doors\nto the effect that the owners were absent at the war. Others were being\nrun by the old fathers and mothers long since retired, who had come up\nfrom the country to \"carry on.\" My friend told me that when she had\nreturned to Paris in haste from the country, at the beginning of the\nwar, there was not a taxi available, as they were all being used to rush\nthe soldiers out to the battle of the Marne. Fancy taxi-ing to a\nbattlefield!\nThe Parisians were very interested to see a girl dressed in khaki, and\ndiscussed each item of my uniform in the M\u00e9tro quite loudly, evidently\nunder the same impression as the old _commer\u00e7ant_! My field boots took\ntheir fancy most. _\"Mon Dieu!\"_ they would exclaim. \"Look then, she\nwears the big boots like a man. It is _chic_ that, hein?\"\nIn one place, an old curiosity shop in the Quartier St. Germain, the\nwoman was so thrilled to hear I was an _infirmi\u00e8re_ she insisted on me\nkeeping an old Roman lamp I was looking at as a souvenir, because her\nmother had been one in 1870. War has its compensations.\nI also discovered a Monsieur Jollivet at Neuilly, a job-master who had a\nfew horses left, among them a little English mare which I rode. We went\nin the Bois nearly every morning and sometimes along the race course at\nLongchamps, the latter very overgrown. \"Ah, Mademoiselle,\" he would\nexclaim, \"if it was only in the ordinary times, how different would all\nthis look, and how Mademoiselle would amuse herself at the races!\"\nOne day walking along near the \"Observatoire\" an old nun stopped me, and\nin broken English asked how the war was progressing. (The people in the\nshops did too, as if I had come straight from G.H.Q.!) She then went on\nto tell me that she was Scotch, but had never been home for thirty-five\nyears! I could hardly believe it, as she talked English just as a\nFrenchwoman might. She knew nothing at all as to the true position of\naffairs, and asked me to come in to the Convent to tea one day, which I\ndid.\nThey all clustered round me when I went, asking if I had met their\nrelation so-and-so, who was fighting at the front. They were frightfully\ndisappointed when I said \"No, I had not.\"\nI went to their little chapel afterwards, and later on, the Reverend\nMother, who was so old she had to be supported on each side by two nuns,\ncame to a window and gave me her blessing. My Scotch friend before I\nleft pressed a little oxidized silver medal of the Virgin into my hand,\nwhich she assured me would keep me in safety. I treasured it after that\nas a sort of charm and always had it with me.\nA few days later I was introduced to Warneford, V.C., the man who had\nbrought down the first Zeppelin. He had just come to Paris to receive\nthe _L\u00e9gion d'Honneur_ and the _Croix de Guerre_, and was being f\u00eated\nand spoilt by everybody. He promised towards the end of the week, when\nhe had worked off some of his engagements, to take me up--strictly\nagainst all rules of course--for a short flight. I met him on the\nMonday, I think, and on the Wednesday he crashed while making a trial\nflight, and died after from his injuries, in hospital. It seemed\nimpossible to believe when first I heard of it--he was so full of life\nand high spirits.\nWe went to Versailles one day. The loneliness and general air of\ndesertion that overhang the place seemed more intensified by the war\nthan ever. The grass had grown very long, the air was sultry, and not a\nripple stirred the calm surface of the lake. It seemed somehow very like\nthe Palace of a Sleeping Beauty. I wondered if the ghost of Marie\nAntoinette ever revisited the Trianon or flitted up and down the wooden\nsteps of the miniature farm where she had played at being a dairymaid?\nAs we wended our way back in the evening, the incessant croaking of the\nfrogs in the big lake was the only sound that broke the stillness. There\nwas something sinister about it as if they were croaking \"We are the\nonly creatures who now live in this beautiful place, and it is we, with\nour ugly voices and bodies, who have triumphed over the beautiful vain\nladies who threw pebbles at us long ago from the terraces.\"--We turned\naway, and the croaking seemed to become more triumphant and echoed in\nour ears long after we had left the vicinity.\nAt night, in Paris, aeroplanes flew round and round the city on scout\nduty switching on lights at intervals that made them look like\ntravelling stars. They often woke one up, and the noise of the engines\nwas so loud it seemed sometimes as if they must fly straight through\none's window. I used to love to get up early and go down to \"Les\nHalles,\" the French Covent Garden, and come back with literally armfuls\nof roses of all shades of delicate pink, white, and cream. Tante Rose\n(the only name I ever knew her by) was a widow, and the aunt of my\nfriend. She was one of the _vieille noblesse_ and had a charming house\nin Passy, and was as interesting to listen to as a book. She asked me\none day if I would care to go with her to a Memorial Service at the\n_Sacr\u00e9-Coeur_. Looking out of her windows we could see the church\ndominating Paris from the heights of Montmartre, the mosque-like\nappearance of its architecture gleaming white against the sky.\nAt that moment the dying rays of the sun lit up the golden cross\nsurmounting it, and presently the whole building became a delicate rose\npink and seemed almost to float above the city, all blue in the haze of\nthe evening below. It was wonderful, and a picture I shall always carry\nin my mind. I replied I would love to go, and on the following day we\ntoiled up the dazzling white steps. The service was, I think, the most\nimpressive I have ever attended. Crowds flocked to it, all or nearly all\nin that uniform of deep-mourning incomparably _chic_, incomparably\nFrench, and gaining daily in popularity. Long before the service began\nthe place was packed to suffocation. Tante Rose looked proudly round and\nwhispered to me, \"Ah, my little one, you see here those who have given\ntheir all for France.\" Indeed it seemed so on looking round at those\nwhite-faced women; and how I wished that _some_ of the people in\nEngland, who had not been touched by the war, or who at that time (June,\n1915) hardly realized there even was one, could have been present.\nDuring another visit to Tante Rose's I heard the following story from an\n_infirmi\u00e8re_. A wounded German was brought to one of the French\nhospitals. In the bed adjoining lay a Zouave who had had his leg\namputated. The Boche asked for a drink of hot water, the hottest\nobtainable. When the Nurse brought it to him he took the glass, and\nwithout a word threw the scalding contents in her face! The Zouave who\nhad witnessed this brutal act, with a snarl of rage, leapt from his bed\non to the German's and throttled him to death there and then. The other\n_bless\u00e9s_ sat up in bed and cheered. \"It is thus,\" she continued calmly,\n\"that our brave soldiers avenge us from these brutes.\" I looked at her\nas she sat there so dainty in her white uniform, quite undismayed by\nwhat had taken place. It was just another of those little incidents that\ngo to show the spirit of the French nation.\nSome American friends of mine took me over their hospital for French\nsoldiers at Neuilly. It was most beautifully equipped from top to\nbottom, and I was especially interested in the dental department where\nthey fitted men with false jaws, etc. Every comfort was provided, and\nsome of the patients were lying out on balconies under large umbrellas,\nsmiling happily at all who passed. I sighed when I thought of the\nmakeshifts we had _l\u00e0 bas_ at Lamarck.\nI also went to a sort of review held in the Bois of an _Ambulance\nVolant_ (ambulance unit to accompany a Battalion), given and driven by\nAmericans. They also had a field operating theatre. These drivers were\nall voluntary workers, and were Yale and Harvard men who had come over\nto see what the \"show\" was really like. Some of them later joined the\nFrench Army, and one the famous \"Foreign Legion,\" and others went back\nto the U.S.A. to make shells.\nIt was very interesting to hear about the \"Foreign Legion.\" In peace\ntime most of the people who join it are either fleeing from justice, or\nthey have no more interest in life and don't care what becomes of them.\nIt is composed of dare-devils of all nationalities, and the discipline\nis of the severest. They are therefore among the most fearless fighters\nin the world, and always put in a tight place on the French front. There\nis one man at the enlisting d\u00e9p\u00f4t[9] who is a wonderful being, and can size\nup a new recruit at a glance. He is known as \"Le Sphinx.\" You must give\nhim your real name and reason for joining the Legion, and in exchange he\ngives you a number by which henceforth you are known. He knows the\nsecrets of all the Legion, and they are never divulged to a living soul;\nhe never forgets, nor do they ever pass his lips. One of the most\ncherished souvenirs I have is a plain brass button with the inscription\n\"L\u00e9gion \u00c9trang\u00e8re\" printed round it in raised letters.\nAs early as June, 1915, the French were showing what relics they had\nbrought back from the battlefields. No better place than the\n\"Invalides,\" with Napoleon's tomb towering above, could have been chosen\nfor their display. Part of the courtyard was taken up by captured guns,\nand in two separate corners a \"Taube,\" and a German scout machine, with\nblack crosses on their wings, were tethered like captured birds. There\nthe widows, leading their little sons by the hand, came dry-eyed to show\nyoung France what their fathers had died in capturing for the glory of\n_La Patrie_.\n\"Dost thou know, Maman,\" I heard one mite saying, \"I would like well to\nmount astride that cannon there,\" indicating a huge 7.4, but the woman\nonly smiled the saddest smile I have ever seen, and drew him over to\ngaze at the silvery remains of the Zeppelin that had been brought down\non the Marne.\nThe rooms leading off the corridors above were all filled with souvenirs\nand helmets, and in another, the captured flags of some of the most\nfamous Prussian Regiments were spread out in all their glory of gold and\nsilver embroideries and tassels.\nWe went on to see Napoleon's tomb, which made an impression on me which\nI shall never forget. The sun was just in the right quarter. As we\nentered the building, the ante-room seemed purposely darkened to form\nthe most complete contrast with the inner; where the sun, streaming\nthrough the wonderful glass windows, shone with a steady shaft of blue\nlight, almost ethereal in colouring, down into the tomb where the great\nEmperor slept.\nCHAPTER X\nCONCERNING A CONCERT, CANTEEN WORK, HOUSEKEEPING, THE ENGLISH CONVOY,\nAND GOOD-BYE LAMARCK\nWhen I returned to the hospital the \"English Invasion\" of the town was\nan accomplished fact, and the Casino had been taken over as a hospital\nfor our men. In the rush after Festubert, we were very proud to be\ncalled upon to assist for the time-being in transporting wounded, as the\nBritish Red Cross ambulances had more than they could cope with. This\nwas the first official driving we did and was to lead to greater things.\nThe heat that summer was terrific, so five of us clubbed together and\nrented a Chalet on the beach, which was christened _The Filbert_. We\nbathed in our off time (when the jelly fish permitted, for, whenever it\ngot extra warm, a whole plague of them infested the sea, and hot vinegar\nwas the only cure for their stinging bites; of course we only found this\nout well on into the jelly-fish season!). We gave tea parties and supper\nparties there, weather and work permitting, and it proved the greatest\nboon to us after long hours in hospital.\nAs we were never free to use it in the morning we lent it to some\nfriends, and one day a fearful catastrophe happened. Fresh water was as\nhard to get as in a desert, and the only way to procure any was to bribe\nFrench urchins to carry it in large tin jugs from a spring near the\nCasino. These people, one of whom was the big Englishman, after running\nup from the sea used the water they saw in the jugs to wash the sand off\n(after all, quite a natural proceeding) and then, in all ignorance of\ntheir fearful crime, virtuously filled them up again, _but_ from the\nsea!\nThat afternoon Lowson happened to be giving a rather swell and\ndiplomatic tea party. Gaily she filled the kettle and set it on the\nstove and then made the tea. The Matron of the hospital took a sip and\nthe Colonel ditto, and then they both put their cups down--(I was not\npresent, but as _my_ friends committed the crime, you may be sure I\nheard all about it, and feel as if I had been). Of course the generally\nnumerous French urchins were nowhere in sight, and everyone went home\nfrom that salt-water tea party with a terrible thirst!\nA Remount Camp was established at Fort Neuillay. It was an interesting\nfact that the last time the fort had been used was by English troops\nwhen that part of the coast was ours. One of the officers there\npossessed a beagle called \"Flanders.\" She was one of the survivors of\nthat famous pack taken over in 1914 that so staggered our allies. One\nglorious \"half-day\" off duty, riding across some fields we started a\nbeautiful hare. Besides \"Flanders\" there was a terrier and a French dog\nof uncertain breed, and in two seconds the \"pack\" was in full cry after\n\"puss,\" who gave us the run of our lives. Unfortunately the hunt did not\nend there, as some French farmers, not accustomed to the rare sight of\nhalf a couple and two mongrels hot after a hare scudding across their\nfields, lodged a complaint! When the owner of the beagle was called up\nby the Colonel for an explanation he explained himself in this wise.\n\"It was like this, Sir, the beagle got away after the hare, and we\nthought it best to follow up to bring her back. You see, Sir, don't\nyou?\"\n\"Yes, I _do_ see,\" said the Colonel, with a twinkle. \"Well, don't let it\nhappen again, or she must be destroyed.\"\nA Y.M.C.A. was also established, and Mr. Sitters, the organiser, begged\nus to get up a concert party and amuse the men. In those days Lena\nAshwell's parties were quite unknown, and the men often had to rely on\nthemselves for entertainment. Our free time was very precious, and we\nwere often so tired it was a great undertaking to organise rehearsals,\nbut this Sergt. Wicks did, and very soon we had quite a good show going.\nOne day Mr. Sitters obtained passes for us to go far up into the English\nlines, and for days beforehand rehearsals were held in the oddest\nplaces.[10] Up to the last minute we were on duty in the wards, and all\nthose who could gave a helping hand to get us off--seven in all, as\nmore could not be spared. It was pouring with rain, but we did not mind.\nWe had had such a rush to get ready and collect such properties as we\nneeded that, as often happens on these occasions, we were all in the\nhighest spirits and the show was bound to go well.\nWe sped along in the ambulance, \"Uncle\" driving, and picking up Mr.\nSitters _en route_. Our only pauses were at the barriers of the town,\nand on we went again. We had been doing a good 35 and had slowed up to\npass some vehicles going over a bridge, when the pin came out of the\nsteering rod. If we had not slowed up I can't imagine there would have\nbeen much of the concert party left to perform!\nWe pulled up and began to look for it, hoping, as it had just happened,\nwe might see it lying on the road. Luckily for us at that moment an\nEnglish officer drove up and stopped to see if he could be of any help.\nHe heard where we were bound for, and, as time was getting on, instantly\nsuggested we should borrow his car and driver and he would wait until it\ncame back. Mr. Sitters was only too delighted to accept the offer as it\nwas getting so late.\nHe suggested that four of us should get into the officer's car and go\nahead with him and begin the show, leaving the others to follow. We were\na little dubious as our Lieutenant, Sister Lampen, and \"Auntie\" (the\nMatron) were over the brow of the hill searching for the missing pin!\nThere seemed nothing else to be done, however, so in we all bundled.\nThe officer was very sporting and wished us \"good luck\" as we sped off\nin his car.\nFarther along, as we got nearer the front, all the sentries were English\nwhich seemed very strange to us. Passing through a village where a lot\nof our troops were billeted they gazed in wonder and amazement at the\nsight of English girls in that district.\nOne incident we thought specially funny--It may not seem particularly so\nnow, but when you think that for months past we had only had dealings\nwith French and Belgian soldiers, you will understand how it amused us.\nOutside an _Estaminet_ was a horse and cart partly across the road, and\njust sufficiently blocking it. The driver called out to a Tommy lounging\noutside the Inn to pull it over a little. He gave a truly British grunt,\nand went to the horse's head. Nothing happened for some seconds, and we\nwaited impatiently. Presently he reappeared.\n\"Tied oop,\" he said laconically, in a broad north country accent, and\nwashed his hands of the matter. How we laughed. Of course a Frenchman\nwould have made the most elaborate apologies and explanations--a long\nconversation would have ensued, and finally salutes and bows exchanged,\nbefore we could have got on. \"Tied oop\" became quite a saying after\nthat.\nA F.A.N.Y. eventually coped with the matter, and on we went again. At\nlast we espied some tents in the distance and struck off down a rutty\nlane in their direction. Here we said \"good-bye\" to our driver\nwondering if the other car did not turn up, just how we should get home.\nWe plunged through mud that came well over the tops of our boots and,\nscrambling along some slippery duck boarding, arrived at the recreation\ntent. No sign of the other car, so we were obliged to draft out a fresh\nprogramme in the meantime.\nWe took off our heavy coats while two batmen used the back of their\nclasp knives to scrape off the first layers of mud (hardly the most\nattractive footlight wear) from our boots. We heard the M.C. announcing\nthat the \"Concert party\" had arrived, and through holes in the canvas we\ncould see the tent was full to overflowing. Cheers greeted the\nannouncement, and we shivered with fright. There were hundreds there,\nand they had been patiently waiting for hours, singing choruses to pass\nthe time.\nAs we crawled through the canvas at the back of the stage they cheered\nus to the echo. The platform was about the size of a dining table, which\nrather cramped our style. We always began our shows with a topical song,\neach taking a verse in turn, and then all singing the chorus. Towards\nthe end of our first song the Lieutenant and the others arrived. The\nguns boomed so loudly at times the words were quite drowned. The\nProgramme consisted of Recitations, Songs at the Piano, Solo Songs,\nChoruses, Violin, etc.; and to my horror I found they counted on me to\ndo charcoal drawings, described out of courtesy as \"Lightning\nsketches!\" (an art only developed and cultivated at the insistence of\nSergt. Wicks, who had once discovered me doing some in the wards to\namuse the men). There was nothing else for it, rolls of white paper were\nproduced and pinned on a table placed on end, and off I started. I first\ndrew them a typical Belgian officer with lots of Medals which brought\nforth the remark that he \"must have been through the South African\nCampaign!\" When I got to his boots, which I did with a good high light\ndown the centre, someone called out \"Don't forget the Cherry Blossom\nboot polish, Miss.\" \"What price, _Kiwi_?\" etc. When he was finished they\nyelled \"Souvenir, souvenir,\" so I handed it over amid great applause,\nand felt full of courage! The Crown Prince went down very well and I was\ngrateful to him for having such a long nose. \"We don't want him as no\nsouvenir,\" they called--\"Wish we drew our pay as fast as you draw little\nWillie, Miss.\" The Kaiser of course had his share, and in his first\nstages, to their great joy, evidently resembled one of their officers!\n(There's nothing Tommy enjoys quite so much as that.)\nAfter the \"Nut\" before the war (complete in Opera hat and monocle) and\n\"now\" in khaki, I could think of nothing more, and boldly, but with some\ntrepidation, asked if any gentleman in the audience would care to be\ndrawn. You can imagine the scene. A tent packed with Tommies, every\navailable place taken up, and those who could not find seats sitting on\nthe floor right up to the edge of the stage. Yells of delight greeted\nthe invitation, and several made as if to come forward; finally, one\nunfortunate was heaved up from the struggling mass on to the stage. I\nalways noticed after this that whenever I offered to draw anyone it was\nalways a man with absolutely _no_ particularly \"salient\" feature (I\nthink that is the term) who presented himself. This individual could\nbest be described as \"sandy\" in appearance, there was simply _nothing_\nabout him to caricature, I thought in despair! The remarks from the\naudience, which had been amusing before, now fairly bristled with wit,\nmostly of a personal nature. My subject became hotter and hotter as I\nseized the charcoal pencil and set off. \"Wot _would_ Liza say?\" called\nout one in a horrified voice. \"Don't smile, mate, yer might 'urt yer\nfice,\" called another. \"Take 'is temperature, Miss,\" they called, as the\nperspiration began to roll off him in positive rivulets, and \"_Don't_\nforget 'is auburn 'air,\" they implored. As the poor unfortunate had just\nbeen shorn like a lamb, preparatory to going into the trenches, this was\nparticularly cutting. The remark, however, gave me an inspiration and\nthe audience yelled delightedly while I put a few black dots, very wide\napart, to indicate the shortage. When finished we shook hands to show\nthere was no ill feeling, and quite cheerfully, with the expression of a\nhero, he bore his portrait off amid cheers from the men.\nThe show ended with a song, _Sergeant Michael Cassidy_, which was\nextremely popular at that time. For those who have not heard this\nclassic, it might be as well to give one or two verses. We each had our\nown particular one, and then all sang the chorus.\n   \"You've heard of Michael Cassidy, a strapping Irish bhoy.\n    Who up and joined the Irish guards as Kitchener's pride and joy;\n    When on the march you'll hear them shout, 'Who's going to win the war?'\n    And this is what the khaki lads all answered with a roar:\n_Chorus_\n     \"Cassidy, Sergeant Michael Cassidy,\n      He's of Irish nationality.\n      He's a lad of wonderful audacity,\n      Sergeant Michael Cassidy (bang), V.C.\"\n_Last Verse_\n   \"Who was it met a dainty little Belgian refugee\n    And right behind the firing line, would take her on his knee?\n    Who was it, when she doubted him, got on his knees and swore\n    He'd love her for three years or the duration of the War?\"\n_Chorus_, etc.\nThis was encored loudly, and someone called out for _Who's your lady\nfriend?_ As there were not any within miles excepting ourselves, and\ncertainly none in the audience, it was rather amusing.\nWe plunged through the mud again after it was all over and were taken to\nhave coffee and sandwiches in the Mess. We were just in time to see some\nof the men and wish them Good Luck, as they were being lined up\npreparatory to going into the trenches. Poor souls, I felt glad we had\nbeen able to do something to cheer them a little; and the guns, which we\nhad heard distinctly throughout the concert, now boomed away louder than\never.\nWe had a fairly long walk back from the Mess to where the Mors car had\nbeen left owing to the mud, and at last we set off along the dark and\nrutty road.\nOne facetious French sentry insisted on talking English and flashing his\nlantern into the back of the ambulance, saying, \"But I _will_ see the\nface of each Mees for fear of an espion.\" He did so, murmuring\n\"_jolie--pas mal--chic_,\" etc.! He finally left us, saying: \"I am an\nofficer. Well, ladies, good-bye all!\" We were convulsed, and off we slid\nonce more into the darkness and rain, without any lights, reaching home\nabout 12, after a very amusing evening.\nSoon after this, we started our \"Pleasant Sunday Evenings,\" as we called\nthem, in the top room of the hospital, and there from 8 to 9.30 every\nSunday gave coffee and held impromptu concerts. They were a tremendous\nsuccess, and chiefly attended by the English. They were so popular we\nwere often at a loss for seats. Of real furniture there was very little.\nIt consisted mostly of packing cases covered with army blankets and\nenormous _tumpties_ in the middle of the floor--these latter contained\nthe reserve store of blankets for the hospital, and excellent \"pouffs\"\nthey made.\nOur reputation of being able to turn our hands to anything resulted in\nMr. Sitters--rushing in during 10 o'clock tea one morning with the news\nthat two English divisions were going south from Ypres in a few days'\ntime, and the Y.M.C.A. had been asked by the Army to erect a temporary\ncanteen at a certain railhead during the six days they would take to\npass through. There were no lady helpers in those days, and he was at\nhis wits' end to know where to find the staff. Could any of us be\nspared? None of us _could_, as we were understaffed already, but\nLieutenant Franklin put it to us and said if we were willing to\nundertake the canteen, as well as our hospital work, which would mean an\naverage of only five hours sleep in the twenty-four--she had no\nobjection. There was no time to get fresh Y.M.C.A. workers from England\nwith the delay of passports, etc., and of course we decided to take it\non, only too pleased to have the chance to do something for our own men.\nA shed was soon erected, the front part being left open facing the\nrailway lines, and counters were put up. The work, which went on night\nand day, was planned out in shifts, and we were driven up to the siding\nin Y.M.C.A. Fords or any of our own which could be spared. Trains came\nthrough every hour averaging about 900 men on board. There was just time\nin between the trains to wash the cups up and put out fresh buns and\nchocolates. When one was in, there was naturally no time to wash the\ncups up at all, and they were just used again as soon as they were\nempty. Canteen work with a vengeance! The whole of the Highland\ndivision passed through together with the 37th. They sat in cattle\ntrucks mostly, the few carriages there were being reserved for the\nofficers. It was amusing to notice that at first the men thought we were\nFrench, so unaccustomed were they then to seeing any English girls out\nthere with the exception of army Sisters and V.A.D.s.\n\"_Do chocolat, si voos play_,\" they would ask, and were speechless with\nsurprise when we replied sweetly: \"Certainly, which kind will you have?\"\nI asked one Scotchman during a pause, when the train was in for a longer\ninterval than usual, how he managed to make himself understood up the\nline. \"Och fine,\" he said, \"it's not verra deefficult to _parley voo_. I\ngang into one o' them Estaminays to ask for twa drinks, I say 'twa' and,\nwould you believe it, they always hand out three--good natured I call\nthat, but I hae to pay up all the same,\" he added!\nNaturally the French people thought he said _trois_. This story\nsubsequently appeared in print, I believe.\nOne regiment had a goat, and Billy was let out for a walk and had\nwandered rather far afield, when the train started to move on again.\nLuckily those trains never went very fast, but it was a funny sight to\nsee two Tommies almost throttling the goat in their efforts to drag it\nalong, pursued by several F.A.N.Y.s (to make the pace), and give it a\nfinal shove up into a truck!\nTowards the end of that week the entire staff became exceedingly short\ntempered. The loss of sleep combined with hospital work probably\naccounted for it; we even slept in the jolting cars on the way back. We\nwere more than repaid though, by the smiles of the Tommies and the\ngratitude of the Y.M.C.A., who would have been unable to run the canteen\nat all but for our help.\nIt was at this period in our career we definitely became known as the\n\"F.A.N.N.Y.s\"--\"F.A.N.Y.,\" spelt the passing Tommy--\"FANNY,\" \"I wonder\nwhat that stands for?\"\n\"First anywhere,\" suggested one, which was not a bad effort, we thought!\nThe following is an extract from an account by Mr. Beach Thomas in a\nleading daily:\n\"Our Yeomanry nurses who, among other work, drive, clean, and manage\ntheir own ambulance cars, are dressed in khaki. Their skirts are short,\ntheir hats (some say their feet), are large! (this we thought hardly\nkind). They have done prodigies along the Belgian front. One of their\nlatest activities has been to devise and work a peripatetic bath. By\ningenious contrivances, tents, and ten collapsible baths, are packed\ninto a motor car which circulates behind the lines. The water is heated\nby the engine in a cistern in the interior of the car and offers the\nluxury of a hot bath to several score men.\"\nThis was our famous motor bath called \"James,\" and belonging to \"Jimmy\"\nGamwell. She saw to the heating of the water and the putting up of the\nbaths, with their canvas screens sloping from the roof of the ambulance\nand so forming at each side a bathroom annexe. A sergeant marshalled the\nsoldiers in at one end and in about ten minutes' time they emerged\nclean, rosy, and smiling at the other!\nThe article continued: \"These women have run a considerable hospital and\nits ambulances entirely by themselves. The work has been voluntary. By\ndoing their own household work, by feeding themselves at their own\nexpense (except for a few supplementary Belgian Army rations), by\ndriving and cleaning their own cars, they have made such a success on\nthe economical side that the money laboriously collected in England has\nall been spent on the direct service of the wounded, and not on\nestablishment charges.\"\nA Soup Kitchen brought out by Betty also belonged to our hospital\nequipment. It did excellent work down at the Gare Centrale, providing\nthe wounded with hot soup on their arrival. Great was our excitement\nwhen it was commissioned by a battery up the line. Betty and Lewis set\noff in high spirits, and had the most thrilling escapes and adventures\nin the Ypres section that would alone fill a book. They were with the\nBattery in the early summer when the first gas attack swept over, and\ncaught them at \"Hell fire Corner\" on the Ypres-Menin road. It was they\nwho improvised temporary masks for the men from wads of cotton wool and\nlint soaked in carbolic. Luckily they were not near enough to be\nseriously gassed, but for months after they both felt the after\neffects. Even where we were, we noticed the funny sulphurous smell in\nthe air which seemed to catch one with a tight sensation in the throat,\nand the taste of sulphur was also perceptible on one's lips. We were to\nhave taken turns with the kitchen, but owing to this episode the\nauthorities considered the work too dangerous, and after being\ncomplimented on their behaviour they returned to Lamarck.\nWe had a lot of daylight Taube raids, Zeppelins for the moment confining\nall their efforts to England. It was fascinating to watch the little\nround white balls, like baby clouds, where the shrapnel burst in its\nefforts to bring the marauders down.\nVery few casualties resulted from these raids and we rather enjoyed\nthem. One that fell on the Quay killed an old white horse; and a French\nsailor found the handle of the bomb among the shrapnel near by and\npresented it to me. It seemed odd to think that such a short while\nbefore it had been in the hands of a Boche.\nJan was a patient we had who had entirely lost his speech and memory. We\ncould get nothing out of him but an expressive shrug of the shoulders\nand a smile. He was a good looking Belgian of about twenty-four; and it\nwas my duty to take him out by the arm for a short walk each morning to\ntry and reawaken his interest in life.\nOne day I saw the French Governor of the town coming along on horseback\nfollowed by his _ordnance_ (groom). How could I make Jan salute, I\nwondered? I knew the General was very particular about such things, and\nto all appearance Jan was a normal looking individual. \"_Faut saluer le\nG\u00e9n\u00e9ral_, Jan,\" I said, while he was still some distance away, but Jan\nonly shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, \"I might do it, but on\nthe other hand I might not!\" What was I to do? As we drew nearer I again\nimplored Jan to salute. He shrugged his shoulders, so in desperation,\njust as we came abreast I put my arm behind him and seizing his, brought\nit up to the salute! The General, whom I knew, seemed fearfully amused\nas he returned it, and the next time we met he asked me if I was in the\nhabit of going for a walk arm in arm with Belgian soldiers, who had to\nbe made to salute in such a fashion?\nOne day we saw an aeroplane falling. At first it was hard to believe it\nwas not doing some patent stunt. Instead of coming down plumb as one\nwould imagine, it fell first this way and then that, like a piece of\npaper fluttering down from a window. As it got nearer the earth though\nwhere the currents of air were not so powerful, it plunged straight\ndownwards. Crowds witnessed the descent, and ran to the spot where it\nhad fallen.\nGreatly to their surprise the pilot was unhurt and the machine hardly\ndamaged at all. It had fallen just into the sea, and its wings were\nkeeping it afloat. The pilot was brought ashore in a boat, and when the\ntide went down a cordon of guards was placed round the machine till it\nwas removed.\nBridget, our former housekeeper at the hospital, went home to England in\nthe autumn for a rest and I was asked to take on her job. I moved to the\nhospital and slept in the top room, behind our sitting-room, together\nwith the chauffeurs and Lieutenant Franklin.\nI had to see that breakfast was all right, and at 7.30 lay the table in\nthe big kitchen, get the jam out of our store cupboard, make the tea,\netc. Breakfast over, I had the top room to sweep and dust, the beds to\nmake, the linen to put out to air, and when that was done it was time to\nget \"10 o'clocks\" ready. After that I sallied forth armed with a big\nbasket, a fat purse and a long list, and thoroughly enjoyed myself in\nthe market.\nIn the afternoons there were always stacks of hospital mending to do,\nand then tea to get ready. Sometimes as many as twelve people--French,\nBelgian, or English--used to drop in, and it was no easy task to keep\nthat teapot going; however it was always done somehow. Luckily we had a\ngas-ring, as it would have been an impossibility to run up and down the\nsixty-nine steps to the kitchen every time we wanted more hot water.\nAt six the housekeeper had to prepare the evening meal for 7.30, and the\nFlemish cooks looked on with great amusement at my concoctions--a lot of\nit was tinned stuff, so the cooking required was of the simplest. They\nalways cooked the potatoes for me out of the kindness of their hearts.\nThe reason they did not do the whole thing was that they were really\noff duty at six, but one of them usually stayed behind and helped.\nWork at that time began to slacken off considerably.--A large hut\nhospital for typhoids was built and the casualties diminished, partly\nbecause most of the Belgians had already been killed or wounded, and\npartly because the remaining few had not much fighting to do except hold\nthe line behind the inundations. A faint murmur reached us that a\ncomb-out was going to take place among the British Red Cross Ambulance\ndrivers, and we wondered who would replace them if they were sent up the\nline.\nThe anniversary of the opening of Lamarck hospital took place on the\n31st October, 1915, and we had a tremendous gathering, French, English,\nand Belgians, described in the local rag as \"_une r\u00e9ception intime,\nl'\u00e9lite de tout ce que la ville renferme_!\" The French Governor-General\nof the town, accompanied by two aides-de-camp, came in state. All the\nguests visited the wards, and then adjourned for tea to the top room\nwhere the housekeeper had to perform miracles with the gas-ring. A\nspeech of thanks was made to the Corps, and \"Scrubby\" (the typhoid\ndoctor) got up and in _quelques paroles \u00e9mues_ added his tribute as\nwell. It was a most successful show and we thought the French Governor\nwould never depart, he seemed to enjoy himself so much!\nOur next excitement was a big Allied concert given at the Theatre.\nSeveral performances had taken place there since the one I described,\nbut this was the first time Belgians, French, and English had\ncollaborated.\nBetty, who had been at Tree's School, was asked to recite, and I was\nasked to play the violin. She also got up a one-act farce with\nLieutenant Raby. It is extremely hard to be a housekeeper for a hospital\nand work up for a concert at the same time. The only place I could\npractise in was the storeroom and there, surrounded by tins of McVitie's\nbiscuits and Crosse & Blackwell's jam, I resorted when I could snatch a\nfew minutes!\nAt last the day of the concert arrived and we rattled up to the Theatre\nin \"Flossie.\" A fairly big programme had been arranged, and the three\nAllies were well represented. There was an opera singer from Paris\nresplendent in a long red velvet dress, who interested me very much, she\nbehaved in such an extraordinary way behind the scenes. Before she was\ndue to go on, she walked up and down literally snorting like a\nwar-horse, occasionally bursting into a short scale, and then beating\nher breast and saying, \"_Mon Dieu, que j'ai le trac_,\" which, being\ninterpreted, means, approximately, \"My God, but I have got the wind up!\"\nI sat in a corner with my violin and gazed at her in wonder. Everything\nwent off very well, and we received many be-ribboned bouquets and\nbaskets of flowers, which transformed the top room for days.\nAll lesser excitements were eclipsed when we heard further rumours that\nthe English Red Cross might take us over to replace the men driving for\nthem at that time.\nMacDougal and Franklin, our two Lieutenants, were constantly attending\nconferences on the subject.\nAt last an official requisition came through for sixteen ambulance\ndrivers to replace the men by January 1, 1916. You can imagine our\nexcitement at the prospect. The very first women to drive British\nwounded officially! It was an epoch in women's work in France and the\nforerunner of all the subsequent convoys.\nSimultaneously an article appeared the 2nd December, 1915, headed\n\"'Yeowomen,' a triumph of hospital organisation,\" which I may be\npardoned for quoting:\n\"A complete unit with sixteen to twenty motor ambulances, organised,\nworked, and driven by women, will next month be added to the British\nArmy.\n\"The women will drive their own cars and look after them in every way.\nOne single male mechanic, and that is all, is to be attached to the\nwhole unit. These ambulances may of course be summoned from their camp\nto hurry over any type of winter-worn road to the neighbourhood of the\nfiring line.\n\"What strength, endurance, and pluck such work demands from women can\neasily be understood by anyone who has ever tried to swing a car in cold\nweather or repair it by the roadside.\n\"It is a very notable fact that for the first time under official\nrecognition women have been allowed to share in what may be called a\nmale department of warfare.\n\"The Nursing Yeomanry have just extracted this recognition from the War\nOffice and deserve every compliment that can be paid them; and the\nsuccess is worth some emphasis as one of a series of victories for women\nworkers and organisations, at the top of which is, of course, the\nVoluntary Aid Detachment.\n\"The actual work of these Yeomen nurses, who rode horseback to the\ndressing stations when no other means of conveyance were available, has\nbeen in progress in France and Belgium almost since war was declared.\nMost of their work has been done in the face of every kind of\ndiscouragement, but they were never dismayed. Their khaki uniforms on\nmore than one occasion in Ghent made German sentries jump.\" (Mrs.\nMacDougal arranging for F.A.N.Y. work[11] with the Belgians in September,\n\"This feat of the 'Yeowomen'--who have struggled against a certain\namount of ridicule in England since they started a horse ambulance and\ncamp some six or seven years ago--is worth emphasis because it is only\none instance, striking but by no means unique, of the complete triumph\nof women workers during the past few months!\"\nThe next question was to decide who would go to the new English Convoy,\nand two or three left for England to become proficient in motor\nmechanics and driving.\nI was naturally anxious after a year with the Allies, to work for the\nBritish, but as I could not be spared from housekeeping to go to England\nI was dubious as to whether I could pass the test or not. Though I had\ncome out originally with the idea of being a chauffeur, I had only done\nodd work from time to time at Lamarck. \"Uncle,\" however, was very\nhopeful and persuaded me to take the test in France before my leave was\ndue. Accordingly, I went round to the English Mechanical Transport in\nthe town for the exam., the same test as the men went through. I felt\ndistinctly like the opera lady at the concert. It was a very greasy day\nand the road which we took was bordered on one side by a canal and on\nthe other by a deep and muddy ditch. As we came to a cross road the\nA.S.C. Lieutenant who was testing me, said, \"There you see the marks\nwhere the last man I tested skidded with his car.\" \"Yes, rather, how\njolly!\" I replied in my agitation, wondering if my fate would be\nlikewise. We passed the spot more by luck than good management, and then\nI reversed for some distance along that same road. At last I turned at\nthe cross roads, and after some traffic driving, luckily without any\nmishap, drove back to hospital. I was questioned about mechanics on the\nway, and at the end tactfully explained I was just going on leave and\nmeant to spend every second in a garage! I got out at the hospital gates\nfeeling quite sure I had failed, but to my intense relief and joy he\ntold me I had passed, and he would send up the marks to hospital later\non. I jumped at least a foot off the pavement!\nI went in and told the joyful news to Lieutenant Franklin, who was to be\nboss of the new Convoy, while Lieutenant MacDougal was to be head of the\nBelgian hospital, and of the unit down at the big Convalescent d\u00e9p\u00f4t in\nthe S. of France, at Camp de Ruchard, where Lady Baird and Sister Lovell\nsuperintended the hospital, and Chris and Thompson did the driving.\nIt was sad to bid good-bye to Lamarck and the Belgians, but as the\nEnglish Convoy was to be in the same town it was not as if we should\nnever see them again.\n\"Camille,\" in Ward I, whose back had been broken when the dug-out\ncollapsed on him during a bombardment, hung on to my hand while the\ntears filled his eyes. He had been my special case when he first\narrived, and his gratitude for anything we could do for him was\ntouching.\nThe Adjutant Heddebaud, who was the official Belgian head of the\nhospital, wrote out with many flourishes a panegyric of sorts thanking\nme for what I had done, which I duly pasted in my War Album; and so I\nsaid Good-bye to Lamarck and the Belgians, and left for England,\nDecember, 1915.\nCHAPTER XI\nTHE ENGLISH CONVOY\nMy second leave was spent for the most part at a garage in the\nneighbouring town near the village where we lived. I positively dreamt\nof carburettors, magnetoes, and how to change tyres! The remaining three\nof my precious fourteen days were spent in London enjoying life and\ncollecting kit and such like. We were to be entirely under canvas in our\nnew camp, and as it was mid-winter you can imagine we made what\npreparations we could to avoid dying of pneumonia.\nThe presentation of a fox terrier, \"Tuppence,\" by name, I hailed with\ndelight. When all else froze, he would keep me warm, I thought!\nIt may be interesting to members of the Corps to know the names of those\nwho formed that pioneer Convoy. They are: Lieutenant Franklin, M.\nThompson (Section Leader), B. Ellis, W. Mordaunt, C. Nicholson, D.\nHeasman, D. Reynolds, G. Quin, M. Gamwell, H. Gamwell, B. Hutchinson,\nN.F. Lowson, P.B. Waddell, M. Richardson, M. Laidley, O. Mudie-Cooke, P.\nMudie-Cooke and M. Lean (the last three were new members).\nI met Lowson and Lean at Victoria on January 3, 1916, and between us we\nsmuggled \"Tuppence\" into the boat train without anyone seeing him;\nlikewise through the customs at Folkestone. Arrived there we found that\nmines were loose owing to the recent storms, and the boat was not\nsailing till the next day. Then followed a hunt for rooms, which we duly\nfound but in doing so lost \"Tuppence.\" The rest of the time was spent\nlooking for him; and when we finally arrived breathless at the police\nstation, there was the intelligent dog sitting on the steps! I must here\nconfess this was one of the few occasions he ever exhibited his talents\nin that direction, and as such it must be recorded. He was so well bred\nthat sometimes he was positively stupid, however, he was beautiful to\nlook at, and one can't have everything in this world.\nThe next morning the sea was still fairly rough; and I went in to the\nadjoining room to find that the gallant Lowson was already up and\nstirring, and had gone forth into the town in search of \"Mother-sill.\" I\nlooked out at the sea and hoped fervently she would find some.\nWe went on board at nine, after a good breakfast, and decided to stay on\ndeck. A sailor went round with a megaphone, shouting, \"All lifebelts\non,\" and we were under way.\nI confided \"Tuppence\" to the care of the ship's carpenter and begged him\nto find a spare lifebelt for him, so that if the worst came to the worst\nhe could use it as a little raft!\nWe watched the two destroyers pitching black against the dashing spray\nas they sped along on either side convoying us across.\nWe arrived at Boulogne in time for lunch, and then set off for our\nconvoy camp thirty kilometres away, in a British Red Cross touring car\nborrowed from the \"Christol Hotel.\"\nWe arrived there amid a deluge of rain, and the camp looked indeed a\nsorry spectacle with the tents all awry in the hurricane that was\nblowing.\nBell tents flanked one side of the large open space where the ambulances\nstood. A big store tent occupied another and the cook-house was in a\nshed at the extreme corner, with the Mess tent placed about as far from\nit as possible! I fully appreciated this piece of staff work later.\nThere were also a lot of bathing machines, which made me vaguely wonder\nif a Snark had once inhabited the place.\n    \"The fourth (viz. sign of a Snark) is its fondness for bathing machines\n       Which it constantly carries about,\n     And believes that they add to the beauty of scenes--\n       A sentiment open to doubt.\"\nMy surmises were brought to an abrupt end.\n\"Pat, dear old Pat. I say, old bird, you won't mind going into the\ncook-house for a bit, will you, till the real cook comes? You're so\ngood-natured (?) I know you will, old thing.\"\nBefore I could reply, someone else said:\n\"That's settled then; it's perfectly ripping of you.\"\n\"Splendid,\" said someone else. Being the chief person concerned, I\nhadn't had a chance to utter word of protest one way or the other!\nWhen I _could_ gasp out something, I murmured feebly that I _had_\nthought I was going to drive a car, and had spent most of my leave\nsitting in a garage with that end in view.\n\"Oh, yes, of course you are, old thing, but the other cook hasn't turned\nup yet. Bridget (Laidlay) is worked off her feet, so we decided you'd be\na splendid help to her in the meantime!\"\nThere was nothing else for it.\nI discovered I was to share a tent with Quin, and dragged my kit over to\nthe one indicated. I found her wringing out some blankets and was\ngreeted with the cheery \"Hello, had a good leave? I say, old thing, your\nbed's a pool of water.\"\nI looked into the tent and there it was sagging down in the middle with\nquite a decent sized pond filling the hollow! \"What about keeping some\ngold fish?\" I suggested, somewhat peevishly.\nWhatever happened I decided I couldn't sleep there that night, and with\nQuin's help tipped it up and spread it on some boxes outside, as the sun\nhad come out.\nThat night I spent at Lamarck on a stretcher--it at least had the virtue\nof being dry if somewhat hard.\nWhen I appeared at the cook-house next morning with the words, \"Please\nmum, I've come!\" Bridget literally fell on my neck. She poured out the\ndifficulties of trying to feed seventeen hungry people, when they all\ncame in to meals at different hours, especially as the big stove\nwouldn't \"draw.\" It had no draught or something (I didn't know very much\nabout them then). In the meantime all the cooking was done on a huge\nPrimus stove and the field kitchen outside. I took a dislike to that\nfield kitchen the moment I saw it, and I think it was mutual. It never\nlost an opportunity of \"going out on me\" the minute my back was turned.\nWe were rather at a loss to know how to cope with our army rations at\nfirst. We all worked voluntarily, but the army undertook to feed and\nhouse (or rather tent) us. We could either draw money or rations, and at\nfirst we decided on the former. When, however, we realised the enormous\nprice of the meat in the French shops we decided to try rations instead,\nand this latter plan we found was much the best. Unfortunately, as we\nhad first drawn allowances it took some days before the change could be\neffected, and Bridget and I had the time of our lives trying to make\nboth ends meet in the meantime. That first day she went out shopping it\nwas my duty to peel the potatoes and put them on to boil, etc. Before\nshe left she explained how I was to light the Primus stove. Now, if\nyou've never lit a Primus before, and in between the time you were told\nhow to do it you had peeled twenty or thirty potatoes, got two scratch\nbreakfasts, swept the Mess tent and kept that field kitchen from going\nout, it's quite possible your mind would be a little blurred. Mine was.\nWhen the time came, I put the methylated in the little cup at the top,\nlit it, and then pumped with a will. The result was a terrific roar and\na sheet of flame reaching almost to the roof! Never having seen one in\naction before, I thought it was possible they always behaved like that\nat first and that the conflagration would subside in a few moments. I\nwatched it doubtfully, arms akimbo. Bridget entered just then and,\ndetermined not to appear flustered, in as cool a voice as possible I\nsaid: \"Is that all right, old thing?\" She put down her parcels and,\nwithout a word, seized the stove by one of its legs and threw it on a\nsand heap outside! Of course the field kitchen had gone out--(I can't\nthink who invented that rotten inadequate grating underneath, anyway),\nand I felt I was not the bright jewel I might have been.\nOur Mess was a huge Indian tent rather out of repair, and, though it had\na bright yellow lining, dusk always reigned within. The mugs, tin\nplates, and the oddest knives and forks constituted the \"service.\" It\nwas windy and chilly to a degree, and one of the few advantages of being\nin the cook-house was that one had meals in comparative warmth.\nMy real troubles began at night when, armed with a heavy tray, I set off\non the perilous journey across the camp to the Mess tent to lay the\ntable. There were no lights, and it was generally raining. The chief\nthings to avoid were the tent ropes. As I left the cook-house I decided\nexactly in my own mind where the bell-tent ropes extended, ditto those\nof the store tent and the Mess, but invariably, just as I thought I was\nclear, something caught my ankle as securely as any snake, and down I\ncrashed on top of the tray, the plates, mugs, and knives scattering all\naround. Luckily it was months since the latter had been sharp, or a\nsteel proof overall would have been my only hope. Distances and the\nsupposititious length of tent ropes are inclined to be deceptive in the\ndark. Nothing will make me believe those ropes were inanimate--they\nliterally lay in wait for me each night! When any loud crash was heard\nin camp it was always taken for granted it was \"only Pat taking another\ntoss.\"\nThe wind, too, seemed to take a special delight in doing his bit. Our\ncamp was situated on the top of a small hill quite near the sea, and\nsome of the only trees in the neighbourhood flourished there, protected\nby a deep thorn hedge. This, however, ended abruptly where the drive led\ndown to the road. It was when I got opposite the opening where the wind\nswept straight up from the sea my real tussle began. As often as not the\ntin plates were blown off the tray high into the air! It was then I\nrealized the value of a chin. Obviously it was meant to keep the lid on\nthe soup tureen and in this acrobatic attitude, my feet dodging the tent\nropes, I arrived breathless and panting at the door of the Mess tent.\nThe oil lamp swinging on a bit of wire over the table was as welcome a\nsight as an oasis in the desert.\nWe had no telephone in those days, and orderlies came up from the Casino\nhospital and A.D.M.S. with buff slips when ambulances were wanted. At\nthat time the cars, Argylls, Napiers, Siddeley-Deaseys, and a Crossley,\ninscribed \"Frank Crossley, the Pet of Poperinghe,\" were just parked\nhaphazard in the open square, some with their bonnets one way and some\nanother--it just depended which of the two drives up to camp had been\nchosen. It will make some of the F.A.N.Y.s smile to hear this, when they\nthink of the neat rows of cars precisely parked up to the dead straight,\nwhite-washed line that ultimately became the order of things!\nThe bathing machines had their uses, one near the cook-house acting as\nour larder, another as a store for spare parts, while several others\nwere adopted by F.A.N.Y.s as their permanent abodes. One bore the\ninscription, \"The Savoy--Every Modern Inconvenience!\"\nSome R.E.'s came to look at the big cook-house stove and decided it must\nbe put on a raised asphalt sort of platform. Of course this took some\ntime, and we had to do all the cooking on the Primus. The field kitchen\n(when it went) was only good for hot water. We were relieved to see tins\nof bully beef and large hunks of cheese arriving in one of the cars the\nfirst day we drew rations, \"Thank heaven that at least required no\ncooking.\" It was our first taste of British bully, and we thought it\n\"really quite decent,\" and so it was, but familiarity breeds contempt,\nand finally loathing. It was the monotony that did it. You would weary\nof the tenderest chicken if you had it every other day for months. As\nluck would have it, Bridget was again out shopping when, the day\nfollowing, a huge round of raw beef arrived. How to cope, that was the\nquestion? (The verb \"to cope\" was very much in use at that period.)\nObviously it would not fit into the frying pan. But something had to be\ndone, and done soon, as it was getting late. \"They must just have\nchops,\" I said aloud, in desperation, and bravely seizing that round of\nbeef I cut seventeen squares out of it (slices would have taken too\nlong; besides, our knife wasn't sharp enough).\nThey fried beautifully, and no one in the Mess was heard to murmur. When\nyou've been out driving from 7.30 a.m. hunger covers a multitude of\nsins, and Bridget agreed I'd saved the situation.\nThe beef when I'd finished with it looked exactly as if it had been in a\nworry. No _wonder_ cooks never eat what they've cooked, I thought.\nTo our great disappointment an order came up to the Convoy that all\ncameras were to be sent back to England, and everyone rushed round\nfrantically finishing off their rolls of films. Lowson appeared and took\none of the cook-house \"staff\" armed with kettles and more or less\ncovered with smuts. It was rightly entitled, \"The abomination of\ndesolation\"--when it came to be gummed into my War Album!\nQuin was a great nut with our tent ropes at night, and though she had\nnot been in camp before the war, assured me she knew all about them.\nNeedless to say, I was only too pleased to let her carry on.\nWhen I rolled in at night after washing up in the cook-house she would\nsay: \"You must come out and tighten the tent ropes with this gale\nblowing, it won't be funny if the whole thing blows over in the night.\"\nBut none of the horrors she depicted ever persuaded me to turn out once\nI was safely tucked up in my \"flea bag\" with \"Tuppence\" acting as a\nweight to keep the top blankets in place. In the morning when I awoke\nafter a sound night's sleep, I would exclaim triumphantly: \"There you\nare, 'Squig,' what price the tent blowing down? It's as safe as a rock\nand hasn't moved an inch!\"\n\"No?\" the long-suffering \"Squig\" would reply bitterly, \"it may interest\nyou to hear I've only been up _twice_ in the night hammering in the pegs\nand fixing the ropes!\"\nThe only time I didn't bless her manipulation of these things was when I\nrose at 6.30 a.m., by which time they had been frozen stiff and shrunk\nto boot. The ones lacing the flap leading out of the tent were as hard\nto undo as if they had been made of iron. On these occasions \"Tuppence,\"\nwho had hardly realized the seriousness of war, would wake up and want\nme instantly to go out, half dressed as I was, and throw stones for his\nbenefit! That dog had no sense of the fitness of things. If I did not\ncomply immediately he sat down, threw his head in the air, and \"howled\nto the moon!\" The rest of the camp did not appreciate this pastime; but\nif they had known my frenzied efforts with the stiffened ropes \"Squig\"\nhad so securely fixed over-night, their sympathies would have been with,\nrather than against, me.\nOne night we had a fearful storm (at least \"Squig\" told me of it in the\nmorning and I had no reason to doubt her word), and just as I was\nrolling out of bed we heard yells of anguish proceeding from one of the\nother tents.\nThat one had collapsed we felt no doubt, and, rushing out in pyjamas\njust as we were, in the wind and rain, we capered delightedly to the\nscene of the disaster. The Sisters Mudie-Cooke (of course it would be\ntheir tent that had gone) were now hidden from sight under the heavy\nmass of wet canvas on top of them. The F.A.N.Y.s, their hair flying in\nthe wind, looking more like Red Indians on a scalping expedition than a\nsalvage party, soon extricated them, and they were taken, with what\nclothes could be rescued, to another tent. Their fate, \"Squig\" assured\nme, would have assuredly been ours had it not been for her!\nMadame came into existence about this time. She was a poor Frenchwoman\nwhom we hired to come and wash the dishes for us. She had no teeth,\nwispy hair, and looked very underfed and starved. Her \"man\" had been\nkilled in the early days of the war. Though she looked hardly strong\nenough to do anything, Bridget and I, who interviewed her jointly, had\nnot the heart to turn her away, and she remained with us ever after and\nbecame so strong and well in time she looked a different woman.\nThe Mess tent was at last moved nearer the cook-house (I had fallen over\nthe ropes so often that, quite apart from any feelings I had left, it\nwas a preventive measure to save what little crockery we possessed).\nThe cars were all left in a pretty rotten condition, and the petrol was\nnone too good. How Kirkby, the one mechanic, coped at that time, always\nwith a cheery smile, will never be known. As Winnie aptly remarked, \"In\nthese days there are only two kinds of beings in the Convoy--a \"Bird\"\nand a \"Blighter\"!\"[12] Kirkby was decidedly in the \"Bird\" class.\n\"Be a bird, and do such and such a thing,\" was a common opening to a\nrequest. Of course if you refused you were a \"blighter\" of the worst\ndescription.\nAs you will remember, I was only in the cook-house as a \"temporary\nhelp,\" and great was my joy when Logan (fresh from the Serbian campaign)\nloomed up on the horizon as the pukka cook. I retired gracefully--my\nonly regret being Bridget's companionship. Two beings could hardly have\nlaughed as much as we had done when impossible situations had arisen,\nand when the verb \"to cope\" seemed ineffective and life just one\n\"gentle\" thing after the other.\nI was given the little Mors lorry to drive. To say I adored that car\nwould not be exaggerating my feelings about it at all. The seat was my\nchief joy, it was of the racing variety, some former sportsman having\ndone away with the tool box that had served as one! \"Tuppy\" also\nappreciated that lorry, and when we set off to draw rations, lying\nalmost flat, the tips of his ears could just be seen from the front on a\nline with the top of my cap.\nOne of my jobs was to take Sergeant McLaughlan to fetch the hospital\nwashing from a laundry some distance out of the town. He was an old\n\"pug,\" but had grown too heavy to enter the ring, and kept his hand in\ncoaching the promising young boxers stationed in the vicinity. In\nconsequence, what I did not know about all their different merits was\nnot worth knowing, and after a match had taken place every round was\ndescribed in full. I grew quite an enthusiast.\nHe could never bear to see another car in front without trying to pass\nit. \"Let her rip, Miss,\" he would implore--\"Don't be beat by them\nFrenchies.\" Needless to say I did not need much encouragement, and\nnothing ever passed us. (There are no speed limits in France.) There was\na special hen at one place we always tried to catch, but it was a wily\nbird and knew a thing or two. McLaughlan was dying to take it home to\nthe Sergeants' Mess, but we never got her.\nOne day, as we were rattling down the main street, one of the tyres went\noff like a \"4.2.\" We drew to the side, and there it was, as flat as a\npancake.\nThere are always a lot of people in the streets of a town who seem to\nhave nothing particular to do, and very soon quite a decent-sized crowd\nhad collected.\n\"We must do this in record time,\" I said to McLaughlan, who knew nothing\nabout cars, and kept handing me the wrong spanners in his anxiety to\nhelp. \"See,\" exclaimed one, \"it makes her nothing to dirty her hands in\nsuch a manner.\"\n\"They work like men, these English young girls, is it not so?\" said\nanother. \"_Sapristi, c'est merveilleux._\"\n\"One would truly say from the distance that they _were_ men, but this\none, when one sees her close, is not too bad!\" said a third.\n\"Passing remarks about _you_, they are, I should say,\" said McLaughlan\nto me as I fixed the spare wheel in place.\n\"You wait,\" I panted, \"I'll pay them out.\"\n\"See you her strong boots?\" they continued. \"Believe you that she can\nunderstand what we say?\" asked one. \"Never on your life,\" was the\nanswer, and the wheel in place, they watched every movement as I wiped\nmy hands on a rag and drew on my gloves. \"Eight minutes exactly,\"\nwhispered McLaughlan triumphantly, as he seated himself beside me on the\nlorry preparatory to starting.\nThe crowd still watched expectantly, and, leaning out a little, I said\nsweetly, in my best Parisian accent: \"_Mesdames et Messieurs, la s\u00e9ance\nest termin\u00e9e_.\" And off we drove! Their expressions defied description;\nI never saw people look so astounded. McLaughlan was unfeignedly\ndelighted. \"Wot was that you 'anded out to them, Miss?\" he asked. \"Fair\ngave it 'em proper anyway, straight from the shoulder,\" and he chuckled\nwith glee.\nI frequently met an old A.S.C. driver at one of the hospitals where I\nhad a long wait while the rations were unloaded. He was fat, rosy, and\nsmiling, and we became great friends. He was at least sixty; and told me\nthat when War broke out, and his son enlisted, he could not bear to feel\nhe was out of it, and joined up to do his bit as well. He was a taxi\nowner-driver in peace times, and had three of them; the one he drove\nbeing fitted with \"real silver vauses!\" I heard all about the \"missus,\"\nof whom he was very proud, and could imagine how anxiously she watched\nthe posts for letters from her only son and her old man.\nSome months later when I was driving an ambulance a message was brought\nto me that Stone was in hospital suffering from bronchitis. I went off\nto visit him.\n\"I'm for home this time,\" he said sadly, \"but won't the old missus be\npleased?\" I looked at his smiling old face and thought indeed she would.\nHe asked particularly if I would drive him to the boat when he was sent\nto England. \"It'll seem odd to be going off on a stretcher, Miss,\" he\nsaid sadly, \"just like one of the boys, and not even so much as a\nscratch to boast of.\" I pointed out that there were many men in England\nhalf his age who had done nothing but secure cushy jobs for themselves.\n\"Well, Miss,\" he said, as I rose to leave, \"it'll give me great pleasure\nto drive you about London for three days when the war's over, and in my\nbest taxi, too, with the silver vauses!\"\n(N.B. I'm still looking for him.)\nLife in the Convoy Camp was very different from Lamarck, and I missed\nthe cheery companionship of the others most awfully. At meal times only\nhalf the drivers would be in, and for days at a time you hardly saw your\nfriends.\nThere were no \"10 o'clocks\" either. Of course, if you happened to be in\ncamp at that time you probably got a cup of tea in the cook-house, but\nit's not much of a pastime with no one else to drink it with you.\n\"Pleasant Sunday Evenings\" were also out of the question for, with all\nthe best intentions in the world, no one could have spent an evening in\nour Mess tent (even to the accompaniment of soft music) and called it\n\"pleasant!\" They were still carried on at Lamarck, however, and whenever\npossible we went down in force.\nA BLACK DAY IN THE LIFE OF A CONVOY F.A.N.Y.\n     (_By kind permission of Winifred Mordaunt,\n                          From \"Barrack Room Ballads\n     Gentle reader, when you've seen this,\n     Do not think, please, that I mean this\n     As a common or garden convoy day,\n     For the Fany, as a habit\n     Is as jolly as a rabbit--\n     But the're days in one's existence,\n     When the ominous persistence\n     Of bad luck goes thundering heavy on your track,\n     Though you shake him off with laughter,\n     He will leap the moment after--\n     'Tis the day that when on waking,\n     You will find that you are taking,\n     Twenty minutes when you haven't two to spare,\n     And the bloomin' whistle's starting,\n     When you've hardly thought of parting--\n     You acquire the cheerful knowledge,\n     Ere you rush to swallow porridge,\n     That \"fatigue\" has just been added to your bliss,\n     \"If the weather's no objection,\n     There will be a car inspection--\n     With profane ejaculation,\n     You will see \"evacuation\"\n     Has been altered to an earlier hour than nine,\n     So your 'bus you start on winding,\n     Till you hear the muscles grinding--\n     Let's pass over nasty places,\n     Where you jolt your stretcher cases\n     And do everything that's wrong upon the quay,\n     Then it's time to clean the boiler,\n     And the sweat drops from the toiler,\n     When you've finished rubbing eye-wash,\n     On your engine, comes a \"Kibosch.\"\n     As the Section-leader never looks at it,\n     But a grease-cap gently twisting,\n     She remarks that it's consisting,--\n     Then as seated on a trestle,\n     With the toughest beef you wrestle,\n     That in texture would out-rival stone or rock,\n     You are told you must proceed,\n     To Boulogne, with care and speed\n     As you're whisking through Marquise\n     (While the patients sit at ease)\n     Comes the awful sinking sizzle of a tyre,\n     It is usual in such cases,\n     That your jack at all such places,\n     A wet, cold rain starts soaking,\n     And the old car keeps on choking,\n     Your hands and face are frozen raw and red,\n     Three sparking-plugs are missing,\n     There's another tyre a-hissing,\n     You reach camp as night's descending,\n     To the bath with haste you're wending,\n     A hot tub's the only thing to save a cough,\n     Cries the F.A.N.Y. who's still in it,\n     \"Ah! poor soul, why just this minute,\n_N.B._--It was a popular pastime of the powers that be to turn the water\noff at intervals, without any warning, rhyme or reason--one of the\ntragedies of the War.\nCHAPTER XII\nTHE PASSING OF THE LITTLE LORRY, \"OLD BILL\" AND \"'ERB\" AT AUDRICQ\nA mild sensation was caused one day by a collision on the Boulogne road\nwhen a French car skidded into one of ours (luckily empty at the time)\nand pushed it over into the gutter.\n\"Heasy\" and Lowson were both requested to appear at the subsequent Court\nof Enquiry, and Sergeant Lawrence, R.A.M.C. (who had been on the\nambulance at the time) was bursting with importance and joy at the\nanticipation of the proceedings. He was one of the chief witnesses, and\napart from anything else it meant an extra day's pay for him, though why\nit should I could never quite fathom.\nAs they drove off, with Boss as chaperone, a perfect salvo of old shoes\nwas thrown after them!\nThey returned with colours flying, for had not Lowson saved the\nsituation by producing a tape measure three minutes after the accident,\nmeasuring the space the Frenchman swore was wide enough for his car to\npass, and proving thereby it was a physical impossibility?\n\"How,\" asked the Colonel, who was conducting the Enquiry, \"can you\ndeclare with so much certainty the space was 3 feet 8 inches?\"\n\"I measured it,\" replied Lowson promptly.\n\"May I ask with what?\" he rasped.\n\"A tape-measure I had in my pocket,\" replied she, smiling affably the\nwhile (sensation).\nThe Court of Enquiry went down like a pack of cards before that tape\nmeasure. Such a thing had never been heard of before; and from then\nonwards the reputation of the \"lady drivers\" being prepared for all\n\"immersions\" was established finally and irrevocably.\nIt was a marvel how fit we all kept throughout those cold months. It was\nno common thing to wake up in the mornings and find icicles on the top\nblanket of the \"flea bag\" where one's breath had frozen, and of course\none's sponge was a solid block of ice. It was duly placed in a tin basin\non the top of the stove and melted by degrees. Luckily we had those\nround oil stoves; and with flaps securely fastened at night we achieved\nwhat was known as a \"perfectly glorious fug.\"\nEngineers began to make frequent trips to camp to choose a suitable site\nfor the huts we were to have to replace our tents.\nMy jobs on the little lorry were many and varied; getting the weekly\nbeer for the Sergeants' Mess being one of the least important. I drew\nrations for several hospitals as well as bringing up the petrol and\ntyres for the Convoy, rationing the Officers' Mess, etc.; and regularly\nat one o'clock just as we were sitting at Mess, Sergeant Brown would\nappear (though we never saw more of him than his legs) at the aperture\nthat served as our door, and would call out diffidently in his high\nsqueaky voice: \"Isolation, when you're ready, Miss,\" and as regularly\nthe whole Mess would go off into fits! This formula when translated\nmeant that he was ready for me to take the rations to the Isolation\nhospital up the canal. Hastily grabbing some cheese I would crank up the\nlittle lorry and depart.\nThe little lorry did really score when an early evacuation took place,\nat any hour from 4 a.m. onwards, when the men had to be taken from the\nhospitals to the ships bound for England. How lovely to lie in bed and\nhear other people cranking up their cars!\nBarges came regularly down the canals with cases too seriously wounded\nto stand the jolting in ambulance trains. One day we were all having\ntea, and some friends had dropped in, when a voice was heard calling\n\"Barges, Barges.\" Without more ado the whole Mess rose, a form was\noverturned, and off they scampered as fast as they could to get their\ncars and go off immediately. The men left sitting there gazed blankly at\neach other and finally turned to me for an explanation--(being a lorry,\nI was not required). \"Barges,\" I said; \"they all have to hurry off as\nquickly as possible to unload the cases.\" They thought it rather a\nhumorous way of speeding the parting guest, but I assured them work\nalways came before (or generally during) tea in our Convoy! Major S.P.\nnever forgot that episode, and the next time he came, heralded his\narrival by calling out at the top of his voice, \"Barges, Barges!\" with\nthe result that half the Convoy turned out _en masse_. He assured his\nfriends it was the one method of getting a royal welcome.\nI shall never forget with what fear and trepidation I drove my first lot\nof wounded. I was on evening duty when the message came up about seven\nthat there were eight bad cases, too bad to stay on the barge till next\nmorning, which were to be removed to hospital immediately. Renny and I\nset off, each driving a Napier ambulance. We backed into position on the\nsloping shingly ground near the side of the canal, and waited for the\nbarge to come in.\nPresently we espied it slipping silently along under the bridge. The\ncases were placed on lifts and slung gently up from the inside of the\nbarge, which was beautifully fitted up like a hospital ward.\nIt is not an easy matter when you are on a slope to start off smoothly\nwithout jerking the patients within; and I held my breath as I\ndeclutched and took off the brake, accelerating gently the meanwhile.\nThank heaven! We were moving slowly forward and there had been no jerk.\nThey were all bad cases and an occasional groan would escape their lips\nin spite of themselves. I dreaded a certain dip in the road--a sort of\nopen drain known in France as a _canivet_--but fortunately I had\npractised crossing it when out one day trying a Napier, and we\nmanoeuvred it pretty fairly. My relief on getting to hospital was\ntremendous. My back was aching, so was my knee (from constant\nclutch-slipping over the bumps and cobbles), and my eyes felt as if they\nwere popping out of my head. In fact I had a pretty complete \"stretcher\nface!\" I had often ragged the others about their \"stretcher faces,\"\nwhich was a special sort of strained expression I had noticed as I\nskimmed past them in the little lorry, but now I knew just what it felt\nlike.\nThe new huts were going apace, and were finished about the end of April,\njust as the weather was getting warmer. We were each to have one to\nourselves, and they led off on each side of a long corridor running down\nthe centre. These huts were built almost in a horse-shoe shape and--joy\nof joys! there were to be two bathrooms at the end! We also had a\ntelephone fixed up--a great boon. The furniture in the huts consisted of\na bed and two shelves, and that was all. There was an immediate slump in\ncar cleaning. The rush on carpentering was tremendous. It was by no\nmeans safe for a workman to leave his tools and bag anywhere in the\nvicinity; his saw the next morning was a thing to weep over if he did.\n(It's jolly hard to saw properly, anyway, and it really looks such an\neasy pastime.)\nThe wooden cases that the petrol was sent over in from England, large\nenough to hold two tins, were in great demand. These we made into\nsettees and stools, etc., and when stained and polished they looked\nquite imposing. The contractor kindly offered to paint the interiors of\nthe huts for us as a present, but we were a little startled to see the\nbrilliant green that appeared. Someone unkindly suggested that he could\nget rid of it in no other way.\nWhen at last they were finished we received orders to take up our new\nquarters, but, funnily enough, we had become so attached to our tents by\nthat time that we were very loath to do so. A fatigue party however\narrived one day to take the tents down, so there was nothing for it.\nMany of the workmen were most obliging and did a lot of odd jobs for us.\nI rescued one of the Red Cross beds instead of the camp one I had had\nheretofore--the advantage was that it had springs--but there was only\nthe mattress part, and so it had to be supported on two petrol cases for\nlegs! The disadvantage of this was that as often as not one end slipped\noff in the night and you were propelled on to the floor, or else two\nopposite corners held and the other two see-sawed in mid-air. Both great\naids to nightmares.\n\"Tuppence\" did not take at all kindly to the new order of things; he\nmissed chasing the mice that used to live under the tent boards and\nother minor attractions of the sort.\nThe draughtiness and civilization of the new huts compared with the\n\"fug\" of the tents all combined to give us chills! I had a specially bad\none, and managed with great skill to wangle a fortnight's sick leave in\nParis.\nThe journey had not increased much in speed since my last visit, but\neverything in Paris itself had assumed a much more normal aspect. The\nbridge over the Oise had long since been repaired, and hardly a shop\nremained closed. I went to see my old friend M. Jollivet at Neuilly, and\nhad the same little English mare to ride in the Bois, and also visited\nmany of the friends I had made during my first leave there.\nI got some wonderful French grey Ripolin sort of stuff from a little\nshop in the \"Boul' Mich\" with which to tone down the violent green in my\nhut, that had almost driven me mad while I lay ill in bed.\nThe Convoy was gradually being enlarged, and a great many new drivers\ncame out from England just after I got back. McLaughlan gave me a great\nwelcome when I went for the washing that afternoon. \"It's good to see\nyou back, Miss,\" he said, \"the driver they put on the lorry was very\nslow and cautious--you know the 'en we always try to catch? Would you\nbelieve it we slowed down to walking pace so as to _miss_ 'er!\" and he\nsniffed disgustedly.\nThe news of the battle of Jutland fell like a bombshell in the camp\nowing to the pessimistic reports first given of it in the papers. A\nwitty Frenchman once remarked that in all our campaigns we had only won\none battle, but that was the last, and we felt that however black things\nappeared at the moment we would come out on top in the end. The news of\nKitchener's death five days later plunged the whole of the B.E.F. into\nmourning, and the French showed their sympathy in many touching ways.\nOne day to my sorrow I heard that the little Mors lorry was to be done\naway with, owing to the shortage of petrol that began to be felt about\nthis time, and that horses and G.S. wagons were to draw rations, etc.,\ninstead. It had just been newly painted and was the joy of my\nheart--however mine was not to reason why, and in due course Red Cross\ndrivers appeared with two more ambulances from the Boulogne _d\u00e9p\u00f4t_, and\nthey made the journey back in the little Mors.\nIt was then that \"Susan\" came into being.\nThe two fresh ambulances were both Napiers, and I hastily consulted\nBrown (the second mechanic who had come to assist Kirkby as the work\nincreased) which he thought was the best one. (It was generally felt I\nshould have first choice to console me for the loss of the little Mors.)\nI chose the speediest, naturally. She was a four cylinder Napier, given\nby a Mrs. Herbert Davies to the Red Cross at the beginning of the war\n(_vide_ small brass plate affixed), and converted from her private car\ninto an ambulance. She had been in the famous old Dunkirk Convoy in\n1914, and was battle-scarred, as her canvas testified, where the bullets\nand shrapnel had pierced it. She had a fat comfortable look about her,\nand after I had had her for some time I felt \"Susan\" was the only name\nfor her; and Susan she remained from that day onwards. She always came\nup to the scratch, that car, and saved my life more than once.\nWe snatched what minutes we could from work to do our \"cues,\" as we\ncalled our small huts. It was a great pastime to voyage from hut to hut\nand see what particular line the \"furnishing\" was taking. Mine was\nclosed to all intruders on the score that I had the \"painters in.\" It\nwas to be _art nouveau_. I found it no easy matter to get the stuff on\nevenly, especially as I had rather advanced ideas as to mural\ndecoration! With great difficulty I stencilled long lean-looking\npanthers stalking round the top as a sort of fresco. I cut one pattern\nout in cardboard and fixing it with drawing pins painted the Ripolin\nover it, with the result that I had a row of green panthers prowling\nround against a background of French grey! I found them very restful,\nbut of course opinions differ on these subjects. Curtains and cushions\nwere of bright Reckitt's blue material, bought in the market, relieved\nby scrolls of dull pink wool embroidered (almost a stitch at a time) in\nbetween jobs. The dark stained \"genuine antiques\" or _veritables\nimitations_ (as I once saw them described in a French shop) looked\nrather well against this background; and a tremendous house-warming took\nplace to celebrate the occasion.\nNo. 30 Field hospital arrived one day straight from Sicily, where it had\napparently been sitting ever since the war, awaiting casualties.\nAs there seemed no prospect of any being sent, they were ordered to\nFrance, and took up their quarters on a sandy waste near the French\ncoastal forts. The orderlies had picked up quite a lot of Italian during\ntheir sojourn and were never tired of describing the wonderful sights\nthey had seen.\nWhile waiting for patients there one day, a corporal informed me that on\nthe return journey they had \"passed the volcano Etna, in rupture!\"\nA great many troops came to a rest camp near us, and I always feel that\n\"Tuppence's\" disappearance was due to them. He _would_ be friendly with\ncomplete strangers, and several times had come in minus his collar\n(stolen by French urchins, I supposed). I had just bought his fourth,\nand rather lost heart when he turned up the same evening without it once\nmore. Work was pouring in just then, and I would sometimes be out all\nday. When last I saw him he was playing happily with Nellie, another\nterrier belonging to a man at the Casino, and that night I missed him\nfrom my hut. I advertised in the local rag (he was well known to all the\nFrench people as he was about the only pure bred dog they'd ever seen),\nbut to no avail. I also made visits to the _Abattoir_, the French\nslaughter house where strays were taken, but he was not there, and I\ncould only hope he had been taken by some Tommies, in which case I knew\nhe would be well looked after. I missed him terribly.\nWork came in spasms, in accordance with the fighting of course, and when\nthere was no special push on we had tremendous car inspections. Boss\nwalked round trying to spot empty grease caps and otherwise making\nherself thoroughly objectionable in the way of gear boxes and\nuniversals. On these occasions \"eye-wash\" was extensively applied to the\nbrass, the idea being to keep her attention fixed well to the front by\nthe glare.\nOne day, when all manner of fatigues and other means of torture had been\nexhausted, Dicky and Freeth discovered they had a simultaneous birthday.\nProspects of wounded arriving seemed nil, and permission was given for a\nfancy-dress tea party to celebrate the double event. It must be here\nunderstood that whether work came in or not we all had to remain on duty\nin camp till five every day, in case of the sudden arrival of ambulance\ntrains, etc. After that hour, two of us were detailed to be on evening\nduty till nine, while all night duty was similarly taken in turns.\nUsually, after hanging about all day till five, a train or barges would\nbe announced, and we were lucky if we got into bed this side of 12.\nHardly what you might call a \"six-hour day,\" and yet nobody went on\nstrike.\nThe one in question was fine and cloudless, and birthday wishes in the\nshape of a Taube raid were expressed by the Boche, who apparently keeps\nhimself informed on all topics.\nThe fancy dresses (considering what little scope we had and that no one\neven left camp to buy extras in the town) were many and varied. \"Squig\"\nand de Wend were excellent as bookies, in perfectly good toppers made\nout of stiff white paper with deep black ribbon bands and \"THE OLD\nFIRM\" painted in large type on cards. Jockeys, squaws, yokels, etc., all\nappeared mysteriously from nothing. I was principally draped in my\nReckitts blue upholsterings and a brilliant Scherezade kimono, bought in\na moment of extravagance in Paris.\nThe proceedings after tea, when the cooks excelled themselves making an\nenormous birthday cake, consisted of progressive games of sorts. You\nknow the kind of thing, trying to pick up ten needles with a pin (or is\nit two?) and doing a Pelman memory stunt after seeing fifty objects on a\ntray, and other intellectual pursuits of that description. Another stunt\nwas putting a name to different liquids which you smelt blindfold. This\nwas the only class in which I got placed. I was the only one apparently\nwho knew the difference between whisky and brandy! Funnily enough, would\nyou believe it, it was the petrol that floored me. Considering we\nwallowed in it from morning till night it was rather strange. I was\nnearly spun altogether when it came to the game of Bridge in the\ntelephone room. \"I've never played it in my life,\" I said desperately.\n\"Never mind,\" said someone jokingly, \"just take a hand.\" I took the tip\nseriously and did so, looking at my cards as gravely as a judge--finally\nI selected one and threw it down. To my relief no one screamed or\ndenounced me and I breathed again. (It requires some skill to play a\ngame of Bridge when you know absolutely nothing about it.)\n\"Pity you lost that last trick,\" said my partner to me as we left the\nroom; \"it was absolutely in your hand.\"\n\"Was it?\" I asked innocently.\nWe had a rush of work after this, and wounded again began to pour in\nfrom the Third Battle of Ypres.\nEarly evacuations came regularly with the tides. They would begin at 4\na.m. and get half an hour later each day. When we took \"sitters\" (i.e.\nsitting patients with \"Blighty\" wounds), one generally came in front and\nsat beside the driver, and on the way to the Hospital Ships we sometimes\nlearnt a lot about them. I had a boy of sixteen one day, a bright cheery\nsoul. \"How did you get in?\" (meaning into the army), I asked. \"Oh, well,\nMiss, it was like this, I was afraid it would be over before I was old\nenough, so I said I was eighteen. The recruiting bloke winked and so did\nI, and I was through.\" Another, when asked about his wound, said, \"It's\ngoing on fine now, Sister (they always called us Sister), but I lost me\nconscience for two days up the line with it.\"\nWe had a bunch of Canadians to take one day. \"D'you come from Sussex?\"\nasked one, of me. \"No,\" I replied, \"from Cumberland.\" \"That's funny,\" he\nsaid, \"the V.A.D. who looked after me came from Sussex, and she had the\nsame accent as you, I guess!\" Another man had not been home for five\nyears, but had joined up in Canada and come straight over. A Scotsman\nhad not been home for twenty, and he intended to see his \"folks\" and\ncome out again as soon as he was passed fit by the doctors.\nOne fine morning at 5 a.m. we were awakened by a fearful din, much worse\nthan the usual thing. The huts trembled and our beds shook beneath us,\nnot to mention the very nails falling out of the walls! We wondered at\nfirst if it was a fleet of Zepps. dropping super-bombs, but decided it\nwas too light for them to appear at that hour.\nThere it was again, as if the very earth was being cleft in two, and our\nwindows rattled in their sockets. It is not a pleasant sensation to have\nsteady old Mother Earth rocking like an \"ashpan\" leaf beneath your feet.\nWe dressed hurriedly, knowing that the cars might be called on to go out\nat any moment.\nWhat the disaster was we could not fathom, but that it was some distance\naway we had no doubt.\nAt 7 a.m. the telephone rang furiously, and we all waited breathless for\nthe news.\nTen cars were ordered immediately to Audricq, where a large ammunition\ndump had been set on fire by a Boche airman.\nHeavy explosions continued at intervals all the morning as one shed\nafter another became affected.\nWhen our cars got there the whole dump was one seething mass of smoke\nand flames, and shells of every description were hurtling through the\nair at short intervals. Several of these narrowly missed the cars. It\nwas a new experience to be under fire from our own shells. The roads\nwere littered with live ones, and with great difficulty the wheels of\nthe cars were steered clear of them!\nMany shells were subsequently found at a distance of five miles, and one\nburied itself in a peaceful garden ten miles off!\nA thousand 9.2's had gone off simultaneously and made a crater big\nenough to bury a village in. It was this explosion that had shaken our\nhuts miles away. The neighbouring village fell flat like a pack of cards\nat the concussion, the inhabitants having luckily taken to the open\nfields at the first intimation that the dump was on fire.\nThe total casualties were only five in number, which was almost\nincredible in view of the many thousands of men employed. It was due to\nthe presence of mind of the Camp Commandant that there were not more;\nfor, once he realized the hopeless task of getting the fire under\ncontrol, he gave orders to the men to clear as fast as they could. They\nneeded no second bidding and made for the nearest _Estaminets_ with\nspeed! The F.A.N.Y.s found that instead of carrying wounded, their task\nwas to search the countryside (with Sergeants on the box) and bring the\nmen to a camp near ours. \"Dead?\" asked someone, eyeing the four\nmotionless figures inside one of the ambulances. \"Yes,\" replied the\nF.A.N.Y. cheerfully--\"drunk!\"\nThe Boche had flown over at 3 a.m. but so low down the Archies were\npowerless to get him. As one of the men said to me, \"If we'd had rifles,\nMiss, we could have potted him easy.\"\nHe flew from shed to shed dropping incendiary bombs on the roofs as he\npassed, and up they went like fireworks. The only satisfaction we had\nwas to hear that he had been brought down on his way back over our\nlines, so the Boche never heard of the disaster he had caused.\nSome splendid work was done after the place had caught fire. One\nofficer, in spite of the great risk he ran from bursting shells, got the\nammunition train off safely to the 4th army. Thanks to him, the men up\nthe line were able to carry on as if nothing had happened, till further\nsupplies could be sent from other dumps. It was estimated that four\ndays' worth of shells from all the factories in England had been\ndestroyed.\nAn M.T. officer got all the cars and lorries out of the sheds and\ninstructed the drivers to take them as far from the danger zone as\npossible, while the Captain in charge of the \"Archie\" Battery stuck to\nhis guns; and he and his men remained in the middle of that inferno\nhidden in holes in their dug-out, from which it was impossible to rescue\nthem for two days.\nFive days after the explosion Gutsie and I were detailed to go to\nAudricq for some measles cases, and we reported first to the Camp\nCommandant, who was sitting in the remains of his office, a shell\nsticking up in the floor and half his roof blown away.\nHe gave us permission to see the famous crater, and instructed one of\nthe subalterns to show us round. There were still fires burning and\nshells popping in some parts and the scenes of wreckage were almost\nindescribable.\nThe young officer was not particularly keen to take us at all and said\nwarningly, \"You come at your own risk--there are nothing but live shells\nlying about, liable to go off at any moment. Be careful,\" he said to me,\n\"you're just stepping on one now.\" I hopped off with speed, but all the\nsame we were not a whit discouraged, which seemed to disappoint him.\nAs Gutsie and I stumbled and rolled over 4.2's and hand grenades I\nquoted to her from the \"Fuse-top collectors\"--\"You can generally 'ear\n'em fizzin' a bit if they're going to go 'orf, 'Erb!\" by way of\nencouragement. Trucks had been lifted bodily by the concussion, and\ncould be seen in adjacent fields; many of the sheds had been half blown\naway, leaving rows of live shells lying snugly in neat piles, but as\nthere was no knowing when they might explode it was decided to scrap the\nwhole dump when the fires had subsided.\nWe walked up a small hill literally covered with shells and empty hand\ngrenades of the round cricket ball type, two of which were given to us\nto make into match boxes. Every description of shell was there as far as\nthe eye could see, and some were empty and others were not. We reached\nthe summit, walking gingerly over 9.2's (which formed convenient steps)\nto find ourselves at the edge of the enormous crater already half filled\nwith water. It was incredible to believe a place of that size had been\nformed in the short space of one second, and yet on the other hand,\nwhen I remembered how the earth had trembled, the wonder was it was not\neven larger.\nIt took weeks for that dump to be cleared up. Little by little the live\nshells were collected and taken out to sea in barges, and dropped in\nmid-ocean.\nNot long after that the \"Zulu,\" a British destroyer, came into port half\nblown away by a mine. Luckily the engine was intact and still working,\nbut the men, who had had marvellous escapes, lost all their kit and\nrations. We were not able to supply the former, unfortunately, but we\nremedied the latter with speed, and also took down cigarettes, which\nthey welcomed more than anything.\nWe were shown all over the remains, and hearing that the \"Nubia\" had\njust had her engine room blown away, we suggested that the two ends\nshould be joined together and called the \"Nuzu,\" but whether the\nAdmiralty thought anything of the idea I have yet to learn!\nBefore the Captain left he had napkin rings made for each of us out of\nthe copper piping from the ship, in token of his appreciation of the\nhelp we had given.\nThe Colonials were even more surprised to see girls driving in France\nthan our own men had been.\nOne man, a dear old Australian, was being invalided out altogether and\ngoing home to his wife. He told me how during the time he had been away\nshe had become totally blind owing to some special German stuff, that\nhad been formerly injected to keep her sight, being now unprocurable.\n\"Guess she's done her bit,\" he ended; \"and I'm off home to take care of\nher. She'll be interested to hear how the lassies work over here,\" and\nwe parted with a handshake.\nImportant conferences were always taking place at the H\u00f4tel Maritime,\nand one day as I was down on the quay the French Premier and several\nother notabilities arrived. \"There's Mr. Asquith,\" said an R.T.O. to me.\n\"That!\" said I, in an unintentionally loud voice, eyeing his long hair,\n\"I thought he was a 'cellist belonging to a Lena Ashwell Concert party!\"\nHe looked round, and I faded into space.\nTaking some patients to hospital that afternoon we passed some\nAustralians marching along. \"Fine chaps,\" said the one sitting on the\nbox to me, \"they're a good emetic of their country, aren't they?\" (N.B.\nI fancy he meant to say emblem.)\nOur concert party still flourished, though the conditions for practising\nwere more difficult than ever. Our Mess tent had been moved again on to\na plot of grass behind the cook-house to leave more space for the cars\nto be parked, and though we had a piano there it was somehow not\nparticularly inspiring, nor had we the time to practise. The Guards'\nBrigade were down resting at Beau Marais, and we were asked to give them\na show. We now called ourselves the \"FANTASTIKS,\" and wore a black\npierrette kit with yellow bobbles. The rehearsals were mostly conducted\nin the back of the ambulance on the way there, and the rest of the time\nwas spent feverishly muttering one's lines to oneself and imploring\nother people not to muddle one. The show was held in a draughty tent,\nand when it was over the Padre made a short prayer and they all sang a\nhymn. (Life is one continual paradox out in France.) I shall never\nforget the way those Guardsmen sang either. It was perfectly splendid.\nThere they stood, rows of men, the best physique England could produce,\nand how they sang!\nBetty drove us back to camp in the \"Crystal Palace,\" so-called from its\nmany windows--a six cylinder Delauney-Belville car used to take the army\nsisters to and from their billets. We narrowly missed nose-diving into a\nchalk pit on the way, the so-called road being nothing but a rutty\ntrack.\nThe Fontinettes ambulance train was a special one that was usually\nreported to arrive at 8 p.m., but never put in an appearance till 10,\nor, on some occasions, one o'clock. The battle of the Somme was now in\nprogress; and, besides barges and day trains, three of these arrived\neach week. The whole Convoy turned out for this; and one by one the\ntwenty-five odd cars would set off, keeping an equal distance apart,\nforming an imposing looking column down from the camp, across the bridge\nand through the town to the railway siding. The odd makes had been\nweeded out and the whole lot were now Napiers. The French inhabitants\nwould turn out _en masse_ to see us pass, and were rather proud of us on\nthe whole, I think. Arrived at the big railway siding, we all formed up\ninto a straight line to await the train. After many false alarms, and\nanswering groans from the waiting F.A.N.Y.s, it would come slowly\ncreaking along and draw up. The ambulances were then reversed right up\nto the doors, and the stretcher bearers soon filled them up with four\nlying cases. At the exit stood Boss and the E.M.O., directing each\nambulance which hospital the cases were to go to. Those journeys back\nwere perfect nightmares. Try as one would, it was impossible not to bump\na certain amount over those appalling roads full of holes and cobbles.\nIt was pathetic when a voice from the interior could be heard asking,\n\"Is it much farther, Sister?\" and knowing how far it was, my heart ached\nfor them. After all they had been through, one felt they should be\nspared every extra bit of pain that was possible. When I in my turn was\nin an ambulance, I knew just what it felt like. Sometimes the cases were\nso bad we feared they would not even last the journey, and there we were\nall alone, and not able to hurry to hospital owing to the other three on\nboard.\nThe journey which in the ordinary way, when empty, took fifteen minutes,\nunder these circumstances lasted anything from three-quarters of an hour\nto an hour. \"Susan\" luckily was an extremely steady 'bus, and in 3rd.\ngear on a smooth road there was practically no movement at all. I\nremember once on getting to the Casino I called out, \"I hope you weren't\nbumped too much in there?\" and was very cheered when a voice replied,\n\"It was splendid, Sister, you should have seen us up the line, jolting\nall over the place.\" \"Sister,\" another one called, \"will you drive us\nwhen we leave for Blighty?\" I said it was a matter of chance, but\nwhoever did so would be just as careful. \"No,\" said the voice decidedly,\n\"there couldn't be two like you.\" (I think he must have been in an Irish\nRegiment.)\nThe relief after the strain of this journey was tremendous; and the joy\nof dashing back through the evening air made one feel as if weights had\nbeen taken off and one were flying. It was rather a temptation to test\nthe speed of one's 'bus against another on these occasions; and \"Susan\"\nseemed positively to take a human interest in the impromptu race, all\nthe more so as it was forbidden. The return journey was by a different\nroute from that taken by the laden ambulances so that there was no\ndanger of a collision.\nWe usually had about three journeys with wounded; twelve stretcher cases\nin all, so that, say the train came in at nine and giving an hour to\neach journey there and back, it meant (not counting loading and\nunloading) roughly 1 o'clock a.m. or later before we had finished. Then\nthere were usually the sitting cases to be taken off and the stretcher\nbearers to be driven back to their camp. Half of one head light only was\nallowed to be shown; and the impression I always had when I came in was\nthat my eyes had popped right out of my head and were on bits of\nelastic. A most extraordinary sensation, due to the terrible strain of\ntrying to see in the darkness just a little further than one really\ncould. It was the irony of fate to learn, when we did come in, that an\nearly evacuation had been telephoned through for 5 a.m. I often spent\nthe whole night dreaming I was driving wounded and had given them the\nmost awful bump. The horror of it woke me up, only to find that my bed\nhad slipped off one of the petrol boxes and was see-sawing in mid-air!\nTHE RED CROSS CARS\n     \"They are bringing them back who went forth so bravely.\n      Grey, ghostlike cars down the long white road\n      Come gliding, each with its cross of scarlet\n      On canvas hood, and its heavy load\n      Of human sheaves from the crimson harvest\n      That greed and falsehood and hatred sowed.\n     \"Maimed and blinded and torn and shattered,\n      Yet with hardly a groan or a cry\n      From lips as white as the linen bandage;\n      Though a stifled prayer 'God let me die,'\n      Is wrung, maybe, from a soul in torment\n      As the car with the blood-red cross goes by.\n     \"Oh, Red Cross car! What a world of anguish\n      On noiseless wheels you bear night and day.\n      Each one that comes from the field of slaughter\n      Is a moving Calvary, painted grey.\n      And over the water, at home in England\n      'Let's play at soldiers,' the children say.\"\nCHAPTER XIII\nCONVOY LIFE\nThe Prince of Wales was with the Grenadiers at Beau Marais when they\ncame in to rest for a time. One day, while having tea at the Sauvage,\nMademoiselle L\u00e9onie, sister of the proprietor, came up to me in a\nperfect flutter of excitement to say that that very evening the Prince\nhad ordered the large room to be prepared for a dinner he was giving to\nhis brother officers.\nI was rather a favourite of hers, and she assured me if I wished to\nwatch him arriving it would give her great pleasure to hide me in her\npaying-desk place where I could see everything clearly. She was quite\nhurt when I refused the invitation.\nHe was tremendously popular with the French people; and the next time I\nsaw her she rushed up to me and said: \"How your Prince is beautiful,\nMees; what spirit, what fire! Believe me, they broke every glass they\nused at that dinner, and then the Prince demanded of me the bill and\npaid for everything.\" (Some lad!) \"He also wrote his name in my\nautograph book,\" she added proudly. \"Oh he is _chic_, that one there, I\ntell you!\"\nOne warm summer day Gutsie and I were sitting on a grassy knoll, just\nbeyond our camp overlooking the sea (well within earshot of the\nsummoning whistle), watching a specially large merchant ship come in.\nExcept for the distant booming of the guns (that had now become such a\nbackground to existence we never noticed it till it stopped), an\natmosphere of peace and drowsiness reigned over everything. The ship was\njust nearing the jetty preparatory to entering the harbour when a dull\nreverberating roar broke the summer stillness, the banks we were on\nfairly shook, and there before our eyes, out of the sea, rose a dense\nblack cloud of smoke 50 feet high that totally obscured the ship from\nsight for a moment. When the black fumes sank down, there, where a whole\nvessel had been a moment before, was only half a ship! We rubbed our\neyes incredulously. It had all happened so suddenly it might have taken\nplace on a Cinema. She had, of course, struck a German mine, and quick\nas lightning two long, lithe, grey bodies (French destroyers) shot out\nfrom the port and took off what survivors were left. Contrary to\nexpectation she did not sink, but settled down, and remained afloat till\nshe was towed in later in the day.\nA \"Y.M.C.A.\" article on \"Women's work in France,\" that appeared in a\nMagazine at home, was sent out to one of the girls. The paragraph\nrelating to us ran:--\n\"Then there are the 'F.A.N.N.I.E.S.,' the dear mud-besplashing\nF.A.N.Y.s. (to judge from the language of the sometime bespattered, the\nadjective was not always 'dear'), with them cheeriness is almost a cult;\nat 6 a.m. in the morning you may always be sure of a smile, even when\ntheir sleep for the week has only averaged five hours per night.\"\nThere were not many parties at Filbert during that summer. Off-time was\nsuch an uncertain quantity. We managed to put in several though,\nlikewise some gallops on the glorious sands stretching for miles along\nthe coast. (It was hardly safe to call at the Convoy on your favourite\ncharger. When you came out from tea it was more than probable you found\nhim in a most unaccountable lather!) Bathing during the daytime was also\na rare event, so we went down in an ambulance after dark, macks covering\nour bathing dresses, and scampered over the sands in the moonlight to\nthe warm waves shining and glistening with phosphorus.\nZeppelin raids seemed to go out of fashion, but Gothas replaced them\nwith pretty considerable success. As we had a French Archie battery near\nus it was no uncommon thing, when a raid was in progress, for our\nsouvenirs and plates, etc., to rattle off the walls and bomb us (more or\nless gently) awake!\nThere was a stretch of asphalt just at the bottom of our camp that had\nbeen begun by an enterprising burgher as a tennis club before the war,\nthough others _did_ say it was really intended as a secret German gun\nemplacement. It did not matter much to us for which purpose it had been\nmade, for, as it was near, we could play tennis and still be within\ncall. There was just room for two courts, and many a good game we\nenjoyed there, especially after an early evacuation, in the long empty\npause till \"brekker\" at eight o'clock.\n\"Wuzzy,\" or to give him his proper name, \"Gerald,\" came into existence\nabout this time. He arrived from Peuplinghe a fat fluffy puppy covered\nwith silky grey curls. He was of nondescript breed, with a distinct\nleaning towards an old English sheep dog. He had enormous fawn-coloured\nsilky paws, and was so soft and floppy he seemed as if he had hardly a\nbone in his body. We used to pick him up and drop him gently in the\ngrass to watch him go out flat like a tortoise. He belonged to Lean, and\ngrew up a rather irresponsible creature with long legs and a lovable\ndisposition. He adored coming down to the ambulance trains or sitting\nimportantly on a car, jeering and barking at his low French friends in\nthe road, on the \"I'm the king of the castle\" principle. Another of his\nfavourite tricks was to rush after a car (usually selecting Lean's), and\nkeep with it the whole time, never swerving to another, which was rather\nclever considering they were so much alike. On the way back to Camp he\nhad a special game he played on the French children playing in the\n_Petit Courgain_. He would rush up as if he were going to fly at them.\nThey would scream and fall over in terror while he positively laughed at\nthem over his shoulder as he cantered off to try it on somewhere else.\nThe camp was divided in its opinion of Wuzzy, or rather I should say\nquartered--viz.--one quarter saw his points and the other three-quarters\ndecidedly did not!\nA priceless article appeared in one of the leading dailies entitled,\n\"Women Motor Drivers.--Is it a suitable occupation?\" and was cut out by\nanxious parents and forwarded with speed to the Convoy.\nThe headlines ran: \"The lure of the Wheel.\" \"Is it necessary?\" \"The\nafter effects.\" We lapped it up with joy. Phrases such as \"Women's\noutlook on life will be distorted by the adoption of such a profession,\nher finer instincts crushed,\" pleased us specially. It continued \"All\nthe delicate things that mean, must mean, life to the feminine mind,\nwill lose their significance\"--(cries of \"What about the frillies you\nbought in Paris, Pat?\") \"The uncongenial atmosphere\"--I continued,\nreading further--\"of the garage, yard, and workshops, the alien\ncompanionship of mechanics and chauffeurs will isolate her mental\nstanding\" (shrieks of joy), \"the ceaseless days and dull monotony of\nlabour will not only rob her of much feminine charm but will instil into\nher mind bitterness that will eat from her heart all capacity for joy,\nsteal away her youth, and deprive her of the colour and sunlight of\nlife\" (loud sobs from the listening F.A.N.Y.s, who still, strangely\nenough, seemed to be suffering from no loss of _joie de vivre_!) When\nthe noise had subsided I continued: \"There is of course the possibility\nthat she will become conscious of her condition and change of mind, and\nrealize her level in time to counteract the ultimate effects(!). The\nrealization however may come too late. The aptitude for happiness will\nhave gone by for the transitory joys of driving, the questionable\nintricacies of the magneto--\" but further details were suspended owing\nto small bales of cotton waste hurtling through the air, and in self\ndefence I had to leave the \"intricacies of the magneto\" and pursue the\noffenders round the camp! The only reply Boss could get as a reason for\nthe tumult was that the F.A.N.Y.s were endeavouring to \"realize the\nlevel of their minds.\" \"Humph,\" was Boss's comment, \"First I've heard\nthat some of them even had any,\" and retired into her hut.\nWe often had to take wounded German prisoners to No. 14 hospital, about\n30 kilometres away. On these occasions we always had three armed guards\nto prevent them from escaping. The prisoners looked like convicts with\ntheir shorn heads and shoddy grey uniforms, and I always found it very\ndifficult to imagine these men capable of fighting at all. They seemed\npretty content with their lot and often tried to smile ingratiatingly at\nthe drivers. One day going along the sea road one of them poked me in\nthe back through the canvas against which we leant when driving and\nsaid, \"Ni--eece Englessh Mees!\" I was furious and used the most forcible\nGerman I could think of at a moment's notice. \"Cheek!\" I said to the\nguard sitting beside me on the box, \"I'd run them over the cliff for\ntuppence.\"\nHe got the wind up entirely: \"Oh, Miss,\" he said, in an anxious voice,\n\"for Gawd's sake don't. Remember we're on board as well.\"\nThe Rifle brigade came in to rest after the Guards had gone, and before\nthey left again for the line, gave a big race meeting on the sands.\nLuckily for us there was no push on just then, and work was in\nconsequence very slack. A ladies' race was included in the Programme for\nour benefit. It was one of the last events, and until it came off we\namused ourselves riding available mules, much to the delight of the\nTommies, who cheered and yelled and did their best to get them to \"take\noff!\" They were hard and bony and had mouths like old sea boots, but it\nwas better than toiling in the deep sand.\nThere were about fourteen entries for our race, several of them from\nLamarck, and we all drew for polo ponies lent from the Brigade. Their\nowners were full of instructions as to the best method to get them\nalong. We cantered up to the starting post, and there was some delay\nwhile Renny got her stirrups right. This was unfortunate, as our ponies\ngot a bit \"cold.\" At last the flag fell, and we were off! It was\nripping; and the excitement of that race beat anything I've ever known.\nAs we thundered over the sands I began to experience the joys of seeing\nthe horses in front \"coming back\" to me, as our old jockey stable-boy\nused to describe. Heasy came in first, MacDougal second, and Winnie and\nI tied third. It was a great race entirely, and all too short by a long\nway.\nOne day I was detailed to drive the Matron and our section leader to a\nf\u00eate of sorts for Belgian refugee orphans. On the way back, crossing the\nswing bridge, we met Betty driving the sisters to their billets. I\nthought Matron wanted to speak to them and luckily, as it turned out, I\nslowed down. She changed her mind, however, and I was just picking up\nagain as we came abreast, when from behind Betty's car sprang a woman\nright in front of mine (after her hat it appeared later, which the wind\nhad just blown across the road). The apparition was so utterly\nunforeseen and unexpected that she was bowled over like a rabbit in two\nshakes. I jammed on the brakes and we sprang out, and saw she was under\nthe car in between the wheel and the chassis. Luckily she was a small\nthin woman, and as Gaspard has so eloquently expressed it on another\noccasion, _platte comme une punaise_ (flat as a drawing-pin). I was\nhorrified, the whole thing had happened so suddenly. A crowd of French\nand Belgian soldiers collected, and I rapidly directed them to lift the\nfront of the car up by the springs, as it seemed the only way of getting\nher out without further injury. I turned away, not daring to look, and\nas I did so my eye caught sight of some hair near one of the back\nwheels! That finished me up! I did not stop to reason that of course the\nback wheels had not touched her, and thought, \"My God, I've scalped\nher!\" and I leant over the railings feeling exceedingly sick. A friendly\nM.P. who had seen the whole thing, patted me on the arm and said, \"Now,\nthen, Miss, don't you take on, that's only her false 'air,\" as indeed\nit proved to be! The woman was yelling and groaning, \"_Mon Dieu, je suis\ntu\u00e9e_,\" but according to the \"red hat\" she was as \"right as rain,\nnothing but 'ysteria.\" I blessed that M.P. and hoped we would meet\nagain. We helped her on to the front seat, where Thompson supported her,\nwhile I drove to hospital to see if any damage had been done. Singularly\nenough, she was only suffering from bruises and a torn skirt, and of\ncourse the loss of her \"false 'air\" (which I had refused to touch, it\nhad given me such a turn). I can only hope her husband, who was with her\nat the time, picked it up. He followed to hospital and gave her a most\nfrightful scolding, adding that of course the \"Mees\" could not do\notherwise than knock her down if she so foolishly sprang in front of\ncars without warning; and she might think herself lucky that the \"Mees\"\nwould not run her in for being in the way! It has always struck me as\nbeing so humorous that in England if you knock a pedestrian over they\ncan have you up, while in France the law is just the reverse. She sobbed\nviolently, and I had to tell him that what she wanted was sympathy and\nnot scolding.\nIt took me a day or two to get over that scalping expedition (of course\nthe story was all round the camp within the hour!) and for some time\nafter I slowed down crossing the bridge. This was the one and only time\nanything of the sort ever happened to me, thank goodness!\nOur camp began to look very smart, and the seeds we had sown in the\nspring came up and covered the huts with creepers. We had as many\nflowers inside our huts as we could possibly get into the shell cases\nand other souvenirs which perforce were turned into flower vases--a\nchange they must have thought rather singular. The steady boom of the\nguns used to annoy me intensely, for it shook the petals off the roses\nlong before they would otherwise have fallen, and I used to call out,\ncrossly, \"_Do_ stop that row, you're simply ruining my flowers.\" But\nthat made no difference to the distant gunners, who carried on night and\nday causing considerably more damage than the falling petals from my\nroses!\nWe began to classify the new girls as they came out, jokingly calling\nthem \"Kitchener's\" Army, \"Derby's Scheme,\" and finally, \"Conscripts.\"\nThe old \"regulars\" of course put on most fearful side. It was amusing\nwhen an air-raid warning (a siren known as \"mournful Mary\") went at Mess\nand the shrapnel began to fly, to see the new girls all rush out to\nwatch the little white balls bursting in the sky, and the old hands not\nturning a hair but going on steadily with the bully beef or Maconochie,\nwhichever it happened to be. Then one by one the new ones would slink\nback rather ashamed of their enthusiasm and take their seats, and in\ntime they in turn would smile indulgently as the still newer ones dashed\nout to watch.\nWe had no dug-out to go to, even if we had wanted to. Our new mess tent\nwas built in the summer; and we said good-bye for ever to the murky\ngloom of the old Indian flapper.\nOne day I had gone out to tea with Logan and Chris to an \"Archie\"\nstation at Pont le Beurre. During a pause I heard the following\nconversation take place.\nHost to Logan: \"I suppose, being in a Convoy Camp, you hear nothing but\nmotor shop the whole time, and get to know quite a lot about them?\"\n\"Rather,\" replied Logan, who between you and me hardly knew one end of a\ncar from the other, \"I'm becoming quite conversant with the different\nparts. One hears people exclaiming constantly: 'I've mislaid my big end\nand can't think where I've put the carburettor!'\" The host, who appeared\nto know as much as she did, nodded sympathetically.\nChris and I happened to catch the Captain's eye, and we laughed for\nabout five minutes. That big-end story went the round of the camp too,\nyou may be quite sure.\nBesides the regular work of barges, evacuation, and trains we had to do\nall the ambulance work for the outlying camps, and cars were regularly\ndetailed for special _d\u00e9p\u00f4ts_ the whole day long. Barges arrived mostly\nin the mornings, and I think the patients in them were more surprised\nthan anyone to see girls driving out there, and were often not a little\nfearful as to how we would cope! It was comforting to overhear them say\nto each other on the journey: \"This is fine, mate, ain't it?\"\nWhen we drove the cases to the hospital ships the long quay along which\nwe took them barely allowed two cars to pass abreast. Turning when the\ncar was empty was therefore a ticklish business, and there was only one\nplace where it could be done. If you made a slip, there was nothing\nbetween you and the sea 50 feet below. There was a dip in the platform\nat one point, and by backing carefully on to this, it was just possible\nto turn, but to do so necessitated running forward in the direction of\nthe quay, where there was barely the space of a foot left between the\nfront wheel and the edge. I know, sitting in the car, I never could see\nany edge at all. If by any chance you misjudged this dip and backed\nagainst the edge of the platform by mistake the car, unable to mount it,\nrebounded and slid forward! It was always rather a breathless\nperformance at first; and beginners, rather than risk it, backed the\nwhole length of the quay. I did so myself the first time, but it was\nsuch a necktwisting performance I felt I'd rather risk a ducking. With\npractice we were able to judge to a fraction just how near the edge we\ncould risk going, and the men on the hospital ships would hold their\nbreath at the (I hope pardonable) swank of some of the more daring\nspirits who went just as near as they could and then looked up and\nlaughed as they drove down the quay. After I was in hospital in England,\nI heard that a new hand lost her head completely, and in Eva's newly\npainted 'bus executed a spinning nose-dive right over the quay. A sight\nI wouldn't have missed for worlds. As she \"touched water,\" however, the\nF.A.N.Y. spirit predominated. She was washed through the back of the\nambulance (luckily the front canvas was up), and as it sank she\ngallantly kicked off from the roof of the fast disappearing car. She was\nan excellent swimmer, but two R.A.M.C. men sprang overboard to her\nrescue, and I believe almost succeeded in drowning her in their efforts!\nThis serves to show what an extremely touchy job it was, and one we had\nto perform in fogs or the early hours of a winter's morning when it was\nalmost too dark to see anything. Some Red Cross men drivers from Havre\nwatched us once, and declared their quay down there was wider by several\nfeet, but no one ever turned on it. It seemed odd at home to see two\ngirls on army ambulances. We went distances of sixty miles or more\nalone, only taking an orderly when the cases were of a very serious\nnature and likely to require attention _en route_.\nOnce I remember I was returning from taking a new medical officer (a\ncheerful individual, whose only remark during the whole of that\nfifteen-mile run was, \"I'm perished!\") to an outlying camp. I wondered\nat first if that was his name and he was introducing himself, but one\nglance was sufficient to prove otherwise! On the way back alone, I\npaused to ask the way, as I had to return by another route. The man I\nhad stopped (whom at first I had taken to be a Frenchman) was a German\nprisoner, so I started on again; but wherever I looked there were\nnothing but Germans, busily working at these quarries. No guards were\nin sight, as far as I could see, and I wondered idly if they would take\nit into their heads to hold up the car, brain me, and escape. It was\nonly a momentary idea though, for looking at these men, they seemed to\nbe quite incapable of thinking of anything so original.\nComing back from B. one day I started a huge hare, and with the utmost\ndifficulty prevented the good Susan from turning off the road, lepping\nthe ditch, and pursuing 'puss' across the flat pastures. Some sporting\n'bus, I tell you!\nThe Tanks made their first appearance in September, and weird and\nwonderful were the descriptions given by the different men I asked whom\nI carried on my ambulance. They appeared to be anything in size from a\nhippopotamus to Buckingham Palace. It was one of the best kept secrets\nof the war. When anyone asked what was being made in the large foundries\nemployed they received the non-committal reply \"Tanks,\" and so the name\nstuck.\nMy last leave came off in the autumn, and while I was at home Lamarck\nHospital closed on its second anniversary--October 31, 1916. The\nBelgians now had a big hut hospital at the Porte de Gravelines, and\nwished to concentrate what sick and wounded they had there, instead of\nhaving so many small hospitals. A great celebration took place, and\nthere was much bouquet handing and speechifying, etc.\nOur work for the Belgians did not cease with the closing of Lamarck, and\na convoy was formed with the Gare Centrale as its headquarters, and so\nreleased the men drivers for the line. The hospital staff and equipment\nmoved to Epernay, where a hospital was opened for the French in an old\nMonastery and also a convoy of F.A.N.Y. ambulances and cars was\nattached, so that now we had units working for the British, French, and\nBelgians. Another unit was the one down at Camp de Ruchard, where\nCrockett so ably ran a canteen for 700 convalescent Belgian soldiers,\nwhile Lady Baird, with a trained nurse, looked after the consumptives,\nof whom there were several hundreds. It will thus be seen that the\nF.A.N.Y. was essentially an \"active service\" Corps with no units in\nEngland at all.\nI had a splendid leave, which passed all too quickly, and oddly enough\nbefore I left home I had a sort of premonition that something was going\nto happen; so much so that I even left an envelope with instructions of\nwhat I wanted done with such worldly goods as I possessed. I felt that\nin making such arrangements I might possibly avert any impending\ncatastrophe!\nHeasy was on leave as well, and the day we were due to go back was a\nSunday. The train was to leave Charing Cross at four, which meant that\nwe would not embark till seven or thereabouts. It was wet and blustery,\nand I did not relish the idea of crossing in the dark at all, and could\nnot help laughing at myself for being so funky. I had somehow quite made\nup my mind we were going to be torpedoed. The people I was staying with\nragged me hard about it. It was the 5th of November, too! As I stepped\nout of the taxi at Charing Cross and handed my kit to the porter, he\nasked: \"Boat train, Miss?\" I nodded. \"Been cancelled owin' to storm,\" he\nsaid cheerfully. I leapt out, and I think I shook him by the hand in my\njoy. France is all right when you get there; but the day you return is\nlike going back to school. The next minute I saw Heasy's beaming face,\nand we were all over each other at the prospect of an extra day. My old\ngodfather, who had come to see me off, was the funniest of all--a\npeppery Indian edition. \"Not going?\" he exclaimed, \"I never heard of\nsuch a thing! In my day there was not all this chopping and changing.\" I\npointed out that he might at least express his joy that I was to be at\nhome another day, and fuming and spluttering we returned to the D's.\nIt's rather an anti-climax, after saying good-bye and receiving\neveryone's blessing, to turn up suddenly once more!\nHeasy and I duly met at Charing Cross next morning, to hear that once\nmore the leave boat had been cancelled owing to loosened mines floating\nabout. Again I returned to my friends who by this time seemed to think I\nhad \"come to stay.\" On the Wednesday (we were now getting to know all\nthe porters quite well by sight) we really did get off; but when we\narrived at Folkestone it was to find the platform crammed with returning\nleave-men and officers, and to hear the same tale--the boat had _again_\nbeen cancelled. None of the officers were being allowed to return to\ntown, but by dint of good luck and a little palm oil, we dashed into a\ncab and reached the other station just in time to catch the up-going\ntrain. \"We stay at an hotel to-night,\" I said to Heasy, \"I positively\nwon't turn up at the D's _again_.\" We got to town in time for lunch, and\nthen went to see the _Happy Day_, at Daly's (very well named we\nthought), where Heasy's brother was entertaining a party. He had seen us\noff, \"positively for the last time,\" at 7.30 that morning. We saw him in\nthe distance, and in the interval we instructed the programme girl to\ntake round a slip of paper on which we printed:--\"If you will come round\nto Stalls 21 and 22 you will hear of something to your advantage.\"\nGeorge Heasman came round utterly mystified, and when he saw us once\nmore, words quite failed him!\nOn the Thursday down we went again, and this time we actually _did_ get\non board, though they kept us hanging about on the Folkestone platform\nfor hours before they decided, and the rain dripped down our necks from\nthat inadequate wooden roofing that had obviously been put up by some\nwar profiteer on the cheap. The congestion was something frightful, and\nthere were twelve hundred on board instead of the usual seven or eight.\n\"We can't blow _over_ at any rate,\" I said cheerfully to Heasy, in a\nmomentary lull in the gale. There were so many people on board that\nthere was just standing room and that was all. We hastily swallowed some\nmore Mother-sill and hoped for the best (we had consumed almost a whole\nboxful owing to our many false starts). We were in the highest spirits.\nThe only other woman on board was an army sister, who came and stood\nnear us. Lifebelts were ordered to be put on, and as I tied Heasy's the\naforementioned Sister turned to me and said: \"You ought to tie that\ntighter; it will come undone very easily in the waves!\" Heasy and I were\nconvulsed, and so were all the people within earshot. \"You mustn't be so\ncheerful,\" I said, as soon as I could speak.\nIt was the roughest crossing I've ever experienced, and there was no\ntime to indulge in \"that periscope feeling,\" so aptly described by\nBairnsfather; we were too busy exercising Christian Science on our\n\"innards\" and trying not to think of all the indigestible things we'd\neaten the night before! We rose on mountains of waves one moment and\nthen descended into positive valleys the next. I swear I would have been\nperfectly all right if I had not heard an officer say \"I hope it will\nnot be too rough to get into Boulogne harbour. The last time I crossed\nwe had to return to Folkestone!\" * * * * Luckily his fears were\nincorrect, and at last we arrived in the harbour, and I never was so\nglad to see France in all my life! The F.A.N.Y.s had almost given us up\nfor good, and were all very envious when they heard of our adventures.\nTowards the end of that month the \"Britannic,\" a hospital ship, was\ntorpedoed. As a preventive measure against future outrages of the kind\n(not that it would have made the Germans hesitate for a moment) twenty\nprisoners were detailed to accompany each hospital ship on the voyage to\nEngland. These men, under one of their own Sergeant-Majors, sat on the\nedge of the platform until all the wounded were on board, and then were\nmarched on into a little wooden shelter specially erected. As they sat\non the edge, their feet rested on the narrow quay along which we drove,\nand I loved to go as near as possible and pretend I was going over them,\njust for the fun of watching the Boches roll on their backs in terror\nwith their feet high in the air. A new method of saying _Kamerad_! Those\nprisoners did not care for me very much, I don't think, and I always\nhope I shan't meet any of them _apr\u00e8s la guerre_. Unfortunately this\npastime was stopped by the vigilant E.M.O.\nMy hut was closed for \"winter decorations,\" and the cr\u00eame de menthe\ncoloured panthers were covered up by a hunting frieze. It was a\npriceless show, one of the field appearing in a _chic_ pair of red\ngloves! I suppose they had some extra paint over from the pink coats.\nScene I. was the meet, with the fox lurking well within sight behind a\nsmall gorse bush, but funnily enough not a hound got wind of him. Scene\nIII. was a good water-jump where one of the field had taken a toss right\ninto the middle of a stream. Considering the sandy spot he had chosen as\na take-off, he had no one to thank but himself. A lady further up on a\ngrey, obviously suffering from spavin, was sailing over like a two-year\nold. The last scene was of course a kill, the gentleman in the pink\ngloves on the black horse being well to the fore. Altogether it was most\npleasing. Silk hunting \"hankies\" in yellow and other vivid colours,\nditto with full field, took the place of the now chilly looking\nReckitt's blue, and a Turkey rug on the floor completed the\ntransformation.\nWhen an early evacuation was not in progress, breakfast was at eight\no'clock, and at 10 minutes to, the whistles went for parade, which was\nheld in the square just in front of the cars. Those who were late were\nput on fatigues without more ado, but in the ordinary way if there were\nno delinquents we took it in turns, two every day.\nOften when that first whistle went, it found a good many of us still\n\"complete in flea-bag,\" and that scramble to get into things and appear\n\"fully dressed\" was an art in itself. An overcoat, muffler, and a pair\nof field boots went a long way to complete this illusion. Once however,\nBoss, to everyone's pained surprise, said, \"Will the troopers kindly\ntake off their overcoats!\" With great reluctance this was done amid\nshouts of laughter as three of us stood divested of coats in gaudy\npyjamas.\nFatigue consisted of two things: One--\"Tidying up the Camp,\" which was a\ncomprehensive term and meant folding up everyone's bonnet covers and\nputting them in neat piles near the mess hut, collecting cotton waste\nand grease tins, etc., and weeding the garden (a rotten job). The second\nwas called \"Doing the stoke-hole,\" i.e. cleaning out the ashes from the\nhuge boiler that heated the bath water, chopping sticks, laying the\nfire, and brushing the \"hole\" up generally.\nOpinions were divided as to the merits of those two jobs. Neither was\npopular of course, but we could choose. The latter certainly had its\npoints, because once done it was done for the day, while the former\nmight be tidy at nine, and yet by 10 o'clock lumps of cotton waste might\nbe blowing all over the place, tins and bonnet covers once more in\nuntidy heaps. I often \"did the boiler,\" but I simply hated chopping the\nsticks. One day the axe was firmly fixed in a piece of hard wood and I\nwas vainly hitting it against the block, with eyes tight shut, when I\nheard a chuckle from the top of the steps. I looked up and there was a\nTommy looking down into the hole, watching the proceedings. Where he'd\ncome from I don't know. \"Call those 'ands?\" he asked. \"'Ere, give it to\nme\"--indicating the axe. \"I guess y'aint chopped many sticks, 'ave yer?\"\n\"No,\" I said; \"and I'm terrified of the thing!\" I sat on the steps and\nwatched him deftly slicing the wood into thin slips. \"This is a\nfatigue,\" I said, by way of an explanation. That tickled him! He stopped\nand chuckled, \"You do fatigues just the same as we do?\" he asked. \"I\nnever heard anything to beat that. Well I never, wot's the crime, I\nwonder? Look 'ere,\" he added, \"I'll chop you enough to last fatigues for\na month, and you put 'em somewhere in the meantime,\" and in ten\nminutes, mark you, there was a pile that rejoiced my heart. He was a\n\"Bird,\" that man, and no mistake.\nAfter brekker was over the first thing that had to be done before\nanything else was to get one's 'bus running and in order for the day.\nOnce that was done we could do our huts, provided no jobs had come in;\nand when that was done the engine had to be thoroughly cleaned, and then\nthe car. I might add that this is an ideal account of the proceedings\nfor, as often as not, we went out the minute the cars were started.\nThree days elapsed sometimes before the hut could have a \"turn out.\" On\nthese occasions one just rolled into one's bed at night unmade and\nunturned, too tired to care one way or the other.\nSome of the girls got a Frenchwoman, \"Alice\" by name, to do their \"cues\"\nfor them. She used to bring her small baby with her and dump him down\nanywhere in the corridor, sometimes in a waste paper basket, till she\nwas done. One morning he howled bitterly for about an hour, and at last\nI went out to see what could be the matter. \"Oh, Mees, it is that he has\nburnt himself against the stove, the careless one\" (he couldn't walk, so\nit must have been her own fault). \"I took him to a _Pharmacie_ but he\nhas done nothing but cry ever since.\"\nNow I had fixed up a small _Pharmacie_ in one of the empty \"cues,\"\ncomplete with sterilised dressings and rows of bottles, and bandaged up\nwhatever cuts and hurts there were, in fact my only sorrow was there\nwere not more \"cases.\" Considering the many men we had had at Lamarck\nburnt practically all over from fire-bombs, I suggested that she should\nbring the baby into the _Pharmacie_ and see if I could do anything for\nit. She was quite willing, and carried it in, when I undid the little\narm (only about six inches long) burnt from the elbow to the wrist! The\nchemist had simply planked on some zinc ointment and lint. I got some\nwarm boracic and soaked it off gently, though the little thing redoubled\nits yells, and a small crowd of F.A.N.Y.s dashed down the passage to see\nwhat was up. \"It's only Pat killing a baby\" was one of the cheerful\nexplanations I heard. So encouraging for me. I dressed it with Carron\noil and to my relief the wails ceased. She brought it every morning\nafter that, and I referred proudly to my \"out-patient\" who made great\nprogress. Within ten days the arm had healed up, and Alice was my\ndevoted follower from that time on.\nWe had a lot of work that autumn, and barges came down regularly as\nclockwork. Many of these cases were taken to the Duchess of Sutherland's\nHospital. She had given up the Bourbourg Belgian one some time before\nand now had one for the British, where the famous Carroll-Dakin\ntreatment was given. One night, taking some cases to the Casino\nhospital, there was a boy on board with his eyes bandaged. He had\nevidently endeared himself to the Sister on the train, for she came\nalong with the stretcher bearers and saw him safely into my car.\n\"Good-bye, Sister,\" I heard him say, in a cheery voice, \"thank you a\nthousand times for your kindness--you wait till my old eyes are better\nand I'll come back and see you. I know you must look nice,\" he\ncontinued, with a laugh, \"you've got such a kind voice.\"\nTears were in her eyes as she came round to speak to me and whisper that\nit was a hopeless case; he had been so severely injured he would never\nsee again.\nI raged inwardly against the powers that cared not a jot who suffered so\nlong as their own selfish ends were achieved.\nThat journey was one of the worst I've ever done. If the boy had not\nbeen so cheerful it would have been easier, but there he lay chatting\nbreezily to me through the canvas, wanting to know all about our work\nand asking hundreds of questions. \"You wait till I get home,\" he said,\n\"I'll have the best eye chap there is, you bet your life. By Jove, it\nwill be splendid to get these bandages off, and see again.\"\nWas the war worth even one boy's eyesight? No, I thought not.\nCHAPTER XIV\nCHRISTMAS, 1916\nTaking some wounded Germans to No. 14 hospital one afternoon we were\nstopped on the way by a road patrol, a new invention to prevent\njoy-riding. Two Tommies rushed out from the hedges, like highwaymen of\nold, waving little red flags (one of the lighter efforts of the War\nOffice). Perforce we had to draw up while one of them went into the\n_Estaminet_ (I noticed they always chose their quarters well) to bring\nout the officer. His job was to examine papers and passes, and sort the\nsheep from the goats, allowing the former to proceed and turning the\nlatter away!\nThe man in question was evidently new to the work and was exceedingly\nfussy and officious. He scanned my pink pass for some time and then\nasked, \"Where are you going?\" \"Wimereux,\" I replied promptly. He looked\nat the pass again--\"It's got \"_W_imer_oo_,\" here, and not what _you_\nsaid,\" he answered suspiciously. \"Some people pronounce it 'Vimerer,'\nnevertheless,\" I could not refrain from replying, rather tartly.\nAgain he turned to the pass, and as it started to snow in stinging\ngusts (and I was so obviously one of the \"sheep\"), I began to chafe at\nthe delay.\nAs if anyone would joy-ride in such weather without a wind screen, I\nthought disgustedly. (None of the cars had them.)\n\"Whom have you got in behind?\" was the next query.\nI leant forward as if imparting a secret of great importance, and said,\nin a stage whisper: \"Germans!\"\nHe jumped visibly, and the two flag-wagging Tommies grinned delightedly.\nAfter going to the back to find out if this was so, he at last very\nreluctantly returned my pass.\n\"Thinks we're all bloomin' spies,\" said one of the guards, as at last we\nset off to face the blinding snow, that literally was blinding, it was\nso hard to see. The only method was to shut first one eye and then the\nother, so that they could rest in turns!\nOn the way back we passed a motor hearse stuck on the Wimereux hill with\nfour coffins in behind, stretcher-wise.\nThe guard gave a grunt. \"Humph,\" said he, \"They makes yer form fours\nright up to the ruddy grave, they do!\"\nWe were not so far from civilization in our Convoy as one might have\nsupposed, for among the men in the M.T. yard was a hairdresser from the\nSavoy Hotel!\nHe made a diffident call on Boss one day and said it would give him\ngreat pleasure to shampoo and do up the \"young ladies' hair\" for them in\nhis spare time \"to keep his hand in.\" He was afraid if the war lasted\nmuch longer he might forget the gentle art!\nWe rose to the occasion and were only too delighted, and from then\nonwards he became a regular institution up at the Convoy.\nNews was brought to us of the torpedoing of the \"Sussex,\" and the\nterrible suffering the crew and passengers endured. It was thought after\nshe was struck she would surely sink, and many deaths by drowning\noccurred owing to overcrowding the lifeboats. Like the \"Zulu,\" however,\nwhen day dawned it was found she was able to come into Boulogne under\nher own steam. After driving some cases over there, I went to see the\nremains in dry dock. It was a ghastly sight, made all the more poignant\nas one could see trunks and clothes lying about in many of the cabins,\nwhich were open to the day as if a transverse section had been made. The\nonly humorous incident that occurred was that King Albert was arrested\nwhile taking a photo of it! I don't think for a moment they recognized\nwho he was, for, with glasses, and a slight stoop, he does not look\nexactly like the photos one sees, and they probably imagined he was\nbluffing. He was marched off looking intensely amused! One of the French\nguards, when I expressed my disappointment at not being able to get a\nphoto, gave me the address of a friend of his who had taken some\nofficial ones for France, so I hurried off, and was lucky to get them.\nThe weather became atrocious as the winter advanced and our none too\nwater-tight huts showed distinct signs of warping. We only had one\nthickness of matchboarding in between us and the elements, and, without\nlooking out of the windows, I could generally ascertain through the\nslits what was going on in the way of weather. I had chosen my \"cue\"\nlooking sea-ward because of the view and the sunsets, but then that was\nin far away Spring. Eva's was next door, and even more exposed than\nmine. When we happened to mention this state of affairs to Colonel C.,\nhe promised us some asbestos to line the outer wall if we could find\nsomeone to put it up.\nAnother obliging friend lent us his carpenter to do the job--a burly\nScot. The fact that we cleaned our own cars and went about the camp in\nriding breeches and overalls, not unlike land-girls' kit, left him\nalmost speechless.\nThe first day all he could say was, \"Weel, weel, I never did\"--at\nintervals.\nThe second day he had recovered himself sufficiently to look round and\ntake a little notice.\n\"Ye're one o' them artists, I'm thinkin',\" he said, eyeing my panthers\ndisparagingly. (The hunting frieze had been taken down temporarily till\nthe asbestos was fixed.)\n\"No, you mustn't think that,\" I said apologetically.\n\"Ha ye no men to do yon dirty worrk for ye?\" and he nodded in direction\nof the cars. \"Scandalizing, and no less,\" was his comment when he heard\nthere were not. In two days' time he reported to his C.O. that the job\nwas finished, and the latter overheard him saying to a pal, \"Aye mon,\nbut A've had ma outlook on life broadened these last two days.\" B.\n'phoned up hastily to the Convoy to know what exactly we had done with\nhis carpenter.\nWork was slack in the Autumn owing to the fearful floods of rain, and\nseveral of the F.A.N.Y.s took up fencing and went once a week at eight\no'clock to a big \"Salle d'Escrime\" off the Rue Royale. A famous Belgian\nfencer, I forget his name, and a Frenchman, both stationed in the\nvicinity, instructed, and \"Squig\" kindly let me take her lessons when\nshe was on leave. Fencing is one of the best tests I know for teaching\nyou to keep your temper. When my foil had been hit up into the air about\nthree times in succession to the triumphant _Riposte!_ of the little\nFrenchman, I would determine to keep \"Quite cool.\" In spite of all,\nhowever, when I lunged forward it was with rather a savage stamp, which\nhe would copy delightedly and exclaim triumphantly--\"Mademoiselle se\nf\u00e2che!\" I could have killed that Frenchman cheerfully! His quick orders\n\"_Par\u00e9, par\u00e9--quatre, par\u00e9--contre--Ripost\u00e9!_\" etc. left me\ncompletely bewildered at first. Hope was a great nut with the foils and\nshe and the Frenchman had veritable battles, during which the little\nman, on his mettle and very excited, would squeal exactly like a\nrabbit. The big Belgian was more phlegmatic and not so easily moved.\nOne night I espied a pair of boxing gloves and pulled them on while\nwaiting for my turn. \"Mademoiselle knows _la boxe_?\" he asked\ninterestedly.\n\"A little, a very little, Monsieur,\" I replied. \"Only what my brother\nshowed me long ago.\"\n\"Montrez,\" said he, drawing on a pair as well, and much to the amusement\nof the others we began preliminary sparring. \"Mademoiselle knows\n_ze-k_-nock-oot?\" he hazarded.\nI did not reply, for at that moment he lifted his left arm, leaving his\nheart exposed. Quick as lightning I got in a topper that completely\nwinded him and sent him reeling against the wall. When he got his breath\nback he laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks, and whenever I\nmet him in the street he flew up a side alley in mock terror. I was\nalways designated after that as _Mademoiselle qui sait la boxe--oh, la\nla_!\nIn spite of repeated efforts on the part of R.E.s. there was a spot in\nthe roof through which the rain persistently dripped on to my face in\nthe night. They never could find it, so the only solution was to sleep\nthe other way up! _C'est la guerre_, and that's all there was to it.\nOne cold blustery day I had left \"Susan\" at the works in Boulogne and\nwas walking along by the fish market when I saw a young fair-haired\nstaff officer coming along the pavement toward me. \"His face is very\nfamiliar,\" I thought to myself, and then, quick as a flash--\"Why, it's\nthe Prince of Wales, of course!\" He seemed to be quite alone, and except\nfor ourselves the street was deserted. How to cope? To bob or not to\nbob, that was the question? Then I suddenly realized that in a stiff\npair of Cording's boots and a man's sheepskin-lined mackintosh, sticking\nout to goodness knows where, it would be a sheer impossibility. I\nhastily reviewed the situation. If I salute, I thought, he may think I'm\ntaking a liberty! I decided miserably to do neither and hoped he would\nthink I had not recognized him at all.[13] As we came abreast I looked\nstraight ahead, getting rather pink the while. Once past and calling\nmyself all manner of fools, I thought \"I'm going to turn round, and\nstare. One doesn't meet a Prince every day, and in any case 'a cat may\nlook at a king!'\" I did so--the Prince was turning round too! He smiled\ndelightfully, giving me a wonderful salute, which I returned and went on\nmy way joyfully, feeling that it had been left to him to save the\nsituation, and very proud to think I had had a salute all to myself.\nChristmas came round before we knew where we were, and Boss gave the\norder it was to be celebrated in our own mess. Work was slack just then\nand Mrs. Williams gave a tea and dance in the afternoon at her canteen\nup at Fontinettes. It was a picturesque-looking place with red brick\nfloor, artistic-looking tables with rough logs for legs and a large open\nfireplace, typically English, which must have rejoiced the hearts of men\nso far from Blighty.\nIt was a very jolly show, in spite of my partner bumping his head\nagainst the beam every time we went round, and people came from far and\nnear. It was over about five, and we hastened back to prepare for our\nChristmas dinner in Mess.\nFancy dress had been decided on, and as it was to be only among\nourselves we were given carte blanche as to ideas. They were of course\nall kept secret until the last moment. Baby went as a Magpie and looked\nvery striking, the black and white effect being obtained by draping a\nwhite towel straight down one side over the black nether garments\nbelonging to our concert party kit.\nI decided to go as a _Vie Parisienne_ cover. A study in black and\ndaffodil--a ravishing confection--and also used part of our \"FANTASTIK\"\nkit, but made the bodice out of crinkly yellow paper. A chrysanthemum of\nthe same shade in my hair, which was skinned back in the latest\ndoor-knob fashion, completed the get-up.\nBaby and I met on our way across the camp and drifted into mess\ntogether, and as we slowly divested ourselves of our grey wolf-coats we\nwere hailed with yells of delight.\nDicky went as Charlie's Aunt, and Winnie as the irresistible nephew. Eva\nwas an art student from the Quartier Latin, and Bridget a charming\ntwo-year old. The others came in many and various disguises.\nWe all helped to clear away in order to dance afterwards, and as I ran\ninto the cook-house with some plates I met the mechanic laden with the\ntray from his hut.\nThe momentary glimpse of the _Vie Parisienne_ was almost too much for\nthe good Brown. I heard a startled \"Gor blimee! Miss\" and saw his eyes\npopping out of his head as he just prevented the tray from eluding his\ngrasp!\nSoon after Christmas a grain-ship, while entering Boulogne harbour in a\nstorm, got blown across and firmly fixed between the two jetties, which\nare not very wide apart. To make matters worse its back broke and so\nformed an effectual barrier to the harbour and took from a fortnight to\nthree weeks to clear away.\nTraffic was diverted to the other ports, and for the time being Boulogne\nbecame almost like a city of the dead.\nOne port had been used solely for hospital ships up till then, and the\nscenes of bustle and confusion that replaced the comparative calm were\nalmost indescribable. We saw many friends returning from Christmas\nleave, who for the most part had not the faintest idea where they had\narrived. There were not enough military cars to transport the men to\nFontinettes, so besides our barge and hospital work we were temporarily\ncommissioned by the Local Transport Office.\nI was detailed to take two officers inspecting the Archic stations north\nof St. Omer one wet snowy afternoon, and many were the adventures we\nhad. It was a great thing to get up right behind our lines to places\nwhere we had never been before, and Susan ploughed through the mud like\na two-year old, and never even so much as punctured. We were on our way\nback at a little place called Pont l'Abbesse, about 6.30, when the snow\ncame down in blinding gusts. With only two side lamps, and a pitch dark\nnight, the prospect of ever finding our way home seemed nil, and every\nroad we took was bordered by a deep canal, with nothing in the way of a\nfence as protection. It was bitterly cold, and once we got completely\nlost; three-quarters of an hour later finding ourselves at the same\ncottage where we had previously asked the way!\nAt last we found a staff car that promised to give us a lead, and in\ntime we reached the main St. Omer road, finally getting back to\nPont-le-Beurre about 10 p.m. I 'phoned up to the Convoy to tell them I\nwas still in the land of the living, and after a bowl of hot soup sped\nback to camp.\nMy hands were so cold I had to sit on them in turns, and as for feet, I\ndidn't seem to have any. Still it was \"some run,\" and the next day I\nspent a long time hosing off the thick clay which almost completely hid\nthe good Susan from sight.\nAnother temporary job we had was to drive an army sister (a sort of\nfemale Military Landing Officer) to the boat every day, where she met\nthe sisters coming back from leave and directed them to the different\nunits and hospitals.\nOne of the results of the closing of Boulogne harbour was that instead\nof the patients being evacuated straight to England we had to drive\nthem into Boulogne, where they were entrained for Havre! A terrible\njourney, poor things. Twenty to twenty-four ambulances would set off to\ndo the thirty kilometres in convoy, led at a steady pace by the Section\nLeader. These journeys took place three times a week, and often the men\nwould get bitterly cold inside the cars. If there was one puncture in\nthe Convoy we all had to stop till a spare wheel was put on. We eagerly\ntook the opportunity to get down and do stamping exercises and \"cabby\"\narms to try and get warm. To my utmost surprise, on one of these\noccasions my four stretcher patients got up and danced in the road with\nme. Why they were \"liers\" instead of \"sitters\" I can't think, as there\nwas not much wrong with them. _\u00c0 propos_ I remember asking one night\nwhen an ambulance train came in in the dark, \"Are you liers or sitters\nin here?\" and one humorist scratched his head and replied, \"I don't\nrightly know, Sister, I've told a few in my time!\" To return to our long\nconvoy journeys: once we had deposited our patients it was not\nunnaturally the desire of this \"dismounted cavalry\" unit to try the\nspeed of its respective 'buses one against the other on the return\njourney; to our immense disappointment this idea was completely nipped\nin the bud, for Boss rode on the first car.\nPermission however was given to pass on hills, as it was considered a\npity to overheat a car going down to second gear when it could easily\nhave done the hill on third! That Boulogne road is one of the hilliest\nin France, and Susan was a nailer on hills. I remember arriving in camp\nsecond one day. \"How have _you_ got here?\" asked Boss in surprise, \"I\npurposely put you nineteenth!\"\nHeasy, Betty, and I in celebration of two years' active service had\npermission to give a small dance in the mess at the beginning of the new\nyear. We trembled lest at the last moment an ambulance train might\narrive, but there was nothing worse than an early evacuation next\nmorning and all went off excellently. I was entrusted to make the \"cup,\"\nand bought the ingredients in the town (some cup), and gravely assured\neveryone there was absolutely \"nothing in it.\" The boracic powder was\nlifted in my absence from the _Pharmacie_ to try and get the first\nglimmerings of a slide on that sticky creosoted floor. The ambulances,\nfitted with paper Chinese lanterns, were temporarily converted into\nsitting out places. It was a great show.\nThere was one job in the Convoy we all loathed like poison; it was known\nas \"corpses.\" There was no chance of dodging unpopular jobs, for they\nworked out on an absolutely fair system. For instance, the first time\nthe telephone bell went after 8 a.m. (anything before that was counted\nnight duty) it was taken by a girl whose name came first in alphabetical\norder. She rushed out to her car, but before going \"warned\" B. that when\nthe bell next went it would be _her_ job, and so on throughout the day.\nIf you were \"warned,\" it was an understood thing that you did not begin\nany long job on the car but stayed more or less in readiness. If the\njobs got half through the alphabet by nightfall the last girl warned\nknew she was first for it the next morning.\nTo return to the corpses. What happened was that men were frequently\nfalling into the canals and docks and were not discovered till perhaps\nthree weeks later. An ambulance was then rung up, and the corpse, or\nwhat remained of it, was taken to the mortuary.\nOne day Bobs was called on to give evidence at a Court of Enquiry with\nregard to a corpse she had driven, as there was some mystification with\nregard to the day and hour at which it was found. As she stepped smartly\nup to the table the Colonel asked her how, when it occurred some ten\ndays ago, she could be sure it was 4.30 when she arrived on the scene.\n\"It was like this,\" said she. \"When I heard it was a corpse, I thought\nI'd have my tea first!\" (This was almost as bad as the tape measure\nepisode and was of course conclusive. I might add, corpses were the only\njobs that were not allowed to interfere with meals.)\n\"Foreign bodies,\" in the shape of former Belgian patients, often drifted\nup to camp in search of the particular \"Mees\" who had tended them at\nLamarck, as often as not bringing souvenirs made at great pains in the\ntrenches as tokens of their gratitude. It touched us very much to know\nthat they had not forgotten.\nOne night when my evening duty was nearing its close and I was just\npreparing to go to my hut the telephone bell rang, and I was told to go\ndown to the hospital ship we had just loaded that afternoon for a man\nreported to be in a dying condition, and not likely to stand the journey\nacross to England--I never could understand why those cases should have\nbeen evacuated at all if there was any possibility of them becoming\nsuddenly worse; but I suppose a certain number of beds had to be cleared\nfor new arrivals, and individuals could not be considered. It seemed\nvery hard.\nI drove down to the Quay in the inky blackness, it was a specially dark\nnight, turned successfully, and reported I had come for the case.\nAn orderly, I am thankful to say, came with him in the car and sat\nbehind holding his hand.\nThe boy called incessantly for his mother and seemed hardly to realize\nwhere he was. I sat forward, straining my eyes in the darkness along\nthat narrow quay, on the look-out for the many holes I knew were only\ntoo surely there.\nThe journey seemed to take hours, and I answered a query of the\norderly's as to the distance.\nThe boy heard my voice and mistook me for one of the Sisters, and then\nfollowed one of the most trying half-hours I have ever been through.\nHe seemed to regain consciousness to a certain extent and asked me from\ntime to time,\n\"Sister, am I dying?\"\n\"Will I see me old mother again, Sister?\"\n\"Why have you taken me off the Blighty ship, Sister?\"\nThen there would be silence for a space, broken only by groans and an\noccasional \"Christ, but me back 'urts crool,\" and all the comfort I\ncould give was that we would be there soon, and the doctor would do\nsomething to ease the pain.\nThank God, at last we arrived at the Casino. One of the most trying\nthings about ambulance driving is that while you long to get the patient\nto hospital as quickly as possible you are forced to drive slowly. I\njumped out and cautioned the orderlies to lift him as gently as they\ncould, and he clung on to my hand as I walked beside the stretcher into\nthe ward.\n\"You're telling me the truth, Sister? I don't want to die, I tell you\nthat straight,\" he said. \"Goodbye and God bless you; I'll come and see\nyou in the morning,\" I said, and left him to the nurses' tender care. I\nwent down early next day but he had died at 3 a.m. Somebody's son and\nonly nineteen. That sort of job takes the heart out of you for some\ndays, though Heaven knows we ought to have got used to anything by that\ntime.\nTo make up for the wet autumn a hard frost set in early in the year.\nThe M.T. provided us with anti-freezing mixture for the radiators, but\nthe antifreezing cheerfully froze! We tried emptying them at night,\nturning off the petrol and running the engine till the carburettor was\ndry (for even the petrol was not above freezing), and wrapping up the\nengines as carefully as if they were babies, but even that failed.\nStarting the cars up in the morning (a detail I see I have not mentioned\nso far), even in ordinary times quite a hard job, now became doubly so.\nIt was no uncommon sight to see F.A.N.Y.s lying supine across the\nbonnets of their cars, completely winded by their efforts. The morning\nair was full of sobbing breaths and groans as they swung in vain! This\nprocess was known as \"getting her loose\"--(I'm referring to the car not\nthe F.A.N.Y., though, from personal experience, it's quite applicable to\nboth.)\nBrown or Johnson (the latter had replaced Kirkby) was secured to come if\npossible and give the final fillip that set the engine going. It's a\nwell-known thing that you may turn at a car for ten minutes and not get\nher going, and a fresh hand will come and do so the first time.\nThis swinging left one feeling like nothing on earth, and sometimes was\na day's work in itself.\nIn spite of all the precautions we took, whatever water was left in the\nwater pipes and drainings at the bottom of the radiators froze solidly,\nand sure enough, when we had got them going, clouds of steam rose into\nthe air. The frost had come to stay and moreover it was a black one.\nSomething had to be done to solve the problem for it was imperative for\nevery car to be ready for the road first thing in the morning.\nCamp fires were suggested, but were impracticable, and then it was that\n\"Night Guards\" were instituted.\nFour girls sat up all night, and once every hour turned out to crank up\nthe cars, run them with bonnet covers on till they were thoroughly warm,\nand then tuck them up again till the next time. We had from four to five\ncars each, and it will give some idea of the extreme cold to say that\nwhen we came to crank them again, in roughly three-quarters of an hour's\ntime, they were _almost_ cold. The noise must have been heard for some\ndistance when the whole Convoy was roaring and racing at once like a\nsmall inferno. But in spite of this, I know that when it was not our\nturn to sit up we others never woke.\nAs soon as the cars were tucked up and silent again we raced back to the\ncook-house, where we threw ourselves into deck chairs, played the\ngramophone, made coffee to keep us awake, or read frightening books--I\nremember I read \"Bella Donna\" on one of these occasions and wouldn't\nhave gone across the camp alone if you'd paid me. A grand midnight\nsupper also took up a certain amount of time.\nThat three-quarters of an hour positively flew, and seemed more like ten\nminutes, but punctually at the second we had to turn out again,\nwilly-nilly--into that biting cold with the moon shining frostily over\neverything apparently turning it into steel.\nThe trouble was that as the frost continued water became scarce--baths\nhad stopped long ago--and it began to be a question of getting even a\nbasinful to wash in. Face creams were extensively applied as the only\nmeans of saving what little complexions we had left! The streets of the\ntown were in a terrible condition owing principally to the hygienic\ncustoms of the inhabitants who _would_ throw everything out of their\nfront doors or windows. The consequence was that, without exaggeration,\nthe ice in some places was two feet thick, and every day fresh layers\nwere formed as the French housewives threw out more water. No one\nremained standing in a perpendicular position for long, and the\ndifficulty was, once down, how to get up again.\nFinally water became so scarce we had to bring huge cans in a lorry from\nthe M.T., one of the few places not frozen out, and there was usually\nice on them when they arrived in camp. Then the water even began to\nfreeze as we filled up our radiators; and, finally, we were reduced to\nchopping up the ice in our tank and melting it for breakfast! One\nmorning, however, Bridget came to me in great distress. \"What on earth\nshall I do,\" said she, \"I've finished all the ice, and there's not a bit\nleft to make the tea for breakfast? I know you'll think of something,\"\nshe added hopefully.\nI had been on night guard and the idea of no hot tea was a positive\ncalamity.\nI thought for some minutes. \"Here, give me the jug,\" I said, and out I\nwent. After looking carefully round to see that I was not observed, I\nquietly tapped one of the radiators.\n\"I'll tell you after breakfast where it came from,\" I said, as I\nreturned with the full jug. Bridget seized it joyfully and must have\nbeen a bit suspicious as it was still warm, but she was much too wise to\nask any questions.\nWe had a cheery breakfast, and when it was over I called out, \"I hope\nyou all feel very much better and otherwise radiating? You ought to at\nall events!\"\n\"Why?\" they asked curiously. \"Well, you've just drunk tea made out of\n'radium,'\" I replied. \"Absolutely priceless stuff, known to a few of the\nfirst families by its original name of 'radiator water,'\" and I escaped\nwith speed to the fastnesses of my hut.\nTHE STORY OF A PERFECT DAY\n     (_From \"Barrack Room Ballads of the F.A.N.Y. Corps,\"\n     By kind permission of Winifred Mordaunt, F.A.N.Y._)\n     We were smoking and absently humming\n     To anyone there who could play--\n     (We'd finished our tea in the Mess hut\n     Awaiting an ambulance train--)\n     Roasting chestnuts some were, while the rest,\n     Cut up toffee or sang a refrain.\n     Outside was a bitter wind shrieking--\n     (Thank God for a fug in the Mess!)\n     Never mind if the old stove is reeking\n     If only the cold's a bit less--\n     But one of them starts and then shivers\n     (A goose walking over her tomb)\n     Gazes out at the rain running rivers\n     And says to the group in the room:\n     \"Just supposing the 'God of Surprises'\n     Appeared in the glow of a coal,\n     With a promise before he demises\n     To take us away from this hole\n     And do just whatever we long to do.\n     Tell me your perfect day.\"\n     Said one, \"Why, to fly to an island\n     Far away in a deep blue lagoon;\n     One would never be tired in my land\n     Nor ever get up too soon.\"\n     \"Every time,\" cried the girl darning stockings,\n     \"We'd surf-ride and bathe in the sea,\n     We'd wear nothing but little blue smockings\n     And eat mangoes and crabs for our tea.\"\n     \"Oh no!\" said a third, \"that's a rotten\n     Idea of a perfect day;\n     I long to see mountains forgotten,\n     Once more hear the bells of a sleigh.\n     I'd give all I have in hard money\n     For one day of ski-ing again,\n     And to see those white mountains all sunny\n     Would pretty well drive me insane.\"\n     Then a girl, as she flicked cigarette ash\n     Most carelessly on to the floor,\n     Had a feeling just then that her pet \"pash\"\n     Would be a nice car at the door,\n     To motor all day without fagging--\n     Not to drive nor to start up the thing.\n     Oh! the joy to see someone else dragging\n     A tow-rope or greasing a spring!\n     Then a fifth murmured, \"What about fishing?\n     Fern and heather right up to your knees\n     And a big salmon rushing and swishing\n     'Mid the smell of the red rowan trees.\"\n     So the train of opinions drifted\n     And thicker the atmosphere grew,\n     Till piercing the voices uplifted\n     Rang a sound I was sure I once knew.\n     A sound that set all my nerves singing\n     And ran down the length of my spine,\n     A great pack of hounds as they're flinging\n     Themselves on a new red-hot line!\n     A bit of God's country is stretching\n     As far as the hawk's eye can see,\n     The bushes are leafless, like etching,\n     As all good dream fences should be.\n     There isn't a bitter wind blowing\n     But a soft little southerly breeze,\n     And instead of the grey channel flowing\n     A covert of scrub and young trees.\n     The field of course is just dozens\n     Of people I want to meet so--\n     Old friends, to say nothing of cousins\n     Who've been killed in the war months ago.\n     Three F.A.N.Y.s are riding like fairies\n     Having drifted right into my dreams,\n     And they're riding their favourite \"hairies\"\n     That have been dead for years, so it seems.\n     A ditch that I've funked with precision\n     For seasons, and passed by in fear,\n     I now leap with a perfect decision\n     That never has marked my career.\n     For a dream-horse has never yet stumbled;\n     Far away hounds don't know how to flag.\n     A dream-fence would melt ere it crumbled,\n     And the dream-scent's as strong as a drag.\n     Of course the whole field I have pounded\n     Lepping high five-barred gates by the score,\n     And I don't seem the least bit astounded,\n     Though I never have done it before!\n     At last a glad chorus of yelling,\n     Proclaims my dream-fox has been viewed--\n     But somewhere some stove smoke is smelling\n     Which accounts for my feeling half stewed--\n     And somewhere the F.A.N.Y.s are talking\n     And somebody shouts through the din:\n     \"What a horrible habit of snoring--\n     Hit her hard--wake her up--the train's in.\"\nCHAPTER XV\nCONVOY PETS, COMMANDEERING, AND THE \"FANTASTIKS\"\nWe took turns to go out on \"all-night duty\"; a different thing from\nnight guards, and meant taking any calls that came through after 9 p.m.\nand before 8 a.m. next morning.\nThey were usually from outlying camps for men who had been taken ill or\nelse for stranded Army Sisters arriving at the Gare about 3 a.m. waiting\nto be taken to their billets.\nIt was comparatively cheery to be on this job when night guards were in\nprogress, as there were four hefty F.A.N.Y.s sitting up in the\ncook-house, your car warm and easy to crank, and, joy of joys, a hot\ndrink for you when you came back!\nIn the ordinary way as one scrambled into warm sweaters and top coats\nthe dominant thought was, would the car start all right out there, with\nnot a hand to give a final fillip once the \"getting loose\" process was\naccomplished?\nLuckily my turns came round twice during night guards, and the last time\nI had to go for a pneumonia case to Beau Marais. It was a bright\nmoonlight night, almost as light as day, with everything glittering in\nthe frozen snow. Susan fairly hopped it! After having found the case,\nwhich took some doing, and deposited him in No. 30 hospital, I sped back\nto camp.\nAs I crossed the Place d'Armes and drove up the narrow Rue de la Mer,\nSusan seemed to take a sudden header and almost threw a somersault! I\nhad gone into an invisible hole in the ice, two feet deep, extending\nhalf across the street. For some reason it had melted (due probably to\nan underground bakery in the vicinity). I reversed anxiously and then\nhopped out to feel Susan's springs as one might a horse's knees. Thank\ngoodness they had not snapped, so backing all the way down the street\nagain, relying on the moon for light, I proceeded cautiously by another\nroute and got back without further mishap.\nOur menagerie was gradually increasing. There were now three dogs and\ntwo cats in camp, not to mention a magpie and two canaries, more of\nwhich anon. There was Wuzzy, of course, and Archie (a naughty looking\nlittle Sealyham belonging to Heasy) and a mongrel known as G.K.W. (God\nknows what) that ran in front of a visiting Red Cross touring car one\nday and found itself in the position of the young lady of Norway, who\nsat herself down in the doorway! I did not witness the untimely end, but\nI believe it was all over in a minute.\nOne cat belonged to Eva, a plain-looking animal, black with a half-white\nface, christened \"Miss Dip\" (an inspiration on my part suggested by the\ndonor's name, on the \"Happy Family\" principle). She was the apple of her\neye, nevertheless, and nightly Eva could be heard calling \"Dip, Dip,\nDip,\" all over the camp to fetch her to bed. Incidentally it became\nquite an Angelus for us.\nConsidering the way she hunted all the meat shops for tit bits, that cat\nought to have been a show animal--but it wasn't. One day as our fairy\nLowson was lightly jumping from a window-sill she inadvertently \"came in\ncontact\" with Dip's tail, the extreme tip of which was severed in\nconsequence! In wrathful indignation Eva rushed Dip down to the Casino\nin an ambulance, where one of the foremost surgeons of the day operated\nwith skill and speed and made a neat job of it, to the entire\nsatisfaction of all concerned. If her tail still remains square at the\nend she can tell her children she was _bless\u00e9e dans la guerre_. The\nother cat was a tortoiseshell and appropriately called \"Melisande in the\nWood,\" justified by the extraordinary circumstances in which she was\ndiscovered. One day at No. 35 hut hospital I saw three of the men\nhunting in a bank opposite, covered with undergrowth and small shrubs.\nThey told me that for the past three days a kitten had been heard\nmewing, but in spite of all their efforts to find it, they had failed to\ndo so. I listened, and sure enough heard a plaintive mew. The place was\na network of clinging roots, but presently I crawled in and found it was\njust possible to get along on hands and knees. It was most\nmysterious--the kitten could be heard quite loud one minute, and when\nwe got to the exact spot it would be some distance away again. (It\nreminded me of the Dutch ventriloquist's trick in Lamarck). It was such\na plaintive mew I was determined to find that kitten if I stayed there\nall night. At last it dawned on me, it must be in a rabbit hole; and\nsure enough after pushing and pulling my way along to the top of the\nbank, I found one over which a fall of earth had successfully pushed\nsome wire netting from the fence above. I waited patiently, and in due\ntime caught sight of a little black, yellow, and white kitten; but the\nminute I made a grab for it, it bolted. I pulled the netting away, but\nthe hole was much too deep for so small a creature to get out by itself,\nand it was much too frightened to let me catch it. With great difficulty\nI extricated myself and ran to the cookhouse, where I soon enlisted\nBridget's aid. We got some small pieces of soft raw meat and crawled to\nthe top of the bank again. After long and tedious coaxing I at last\ngrabbed the little thing spitting furiously while Bridget gave it some\nfood, and in return for my trouble it bit and scratched like a young\ndevil! It was terribly hungry and bolted all we had brought. When we got\nher to the cook-house she ran round the place like a mad thing, and\nturned out to be rather a fast cat altogether when she grew up. We\ntossed for her, Bridget won, and she was duly christened with a drop of\ntinned milk on her forehead, \"Melisande in the Wood.\"\nThe magpie belonged to Russell, and came from Peuplinghe. Magpies are\nsupposed to be unlucky birds. This one certainly brought no luck to its\ndifferent owners. Shortly after its arrival Russell was obliged to\nreturn to England for good. Before going, however, she presented Jacques\nto Captain White at Val de Li\u00e8vre. Sure enough after some time he was\nposted to the Boche prisoner camp at Marquise--a job he did not relish\nat all. I don't know if he took Jacques with him, but the place was\nbombed shortly after and the Huns killed many of their own men, and\npresumably Jacques as well. So he did his bit for France.\nThe canaries belonged to Renny--at least at first she had only one. It\nhappened in this wise. The man at the disinfector (where we took our\ncars and blankets to be syringed after an infectious case), had had a\ncanary given him by his \"best girl\" (French). He did not want a canary\nand had nowhere to keep it, but, as he explained, he did not know enough\nof the language to say so, and thought the easiest way out of the\ndifficulty was to accept it. \"Give me the bird, proper, she 'as,\" he\nadded.\nThe trouble was he did not reckon on her asking after it, which she most\nsurely did. He could hardly confess to her that he had passed the\npresent on so instead he conveyed the news to her, somehow, that the\n\"pore little bird had gone and died on 'im.\" She expressed her horror\nand forthwith produced a second!\n\"Soon 'ave a bloomin' aviary at this rate,\" he remarked as he handed\nthe second one over! No more appeared, however, and the two little\nbirds, both presumably dead, twittered and sang merrily the length of\nthe \"cues.\"\nAs the better weather arrived so our work increased again, and in March\nthe Germans began a retreat in the west along a front of 100 miles. We\nworked early and late and reached the point of being able to drive\nalmost asleep. An extraordinary sensation--you avoid holes, you slip the\nclutch over bumps, you stop when necessary, and go on ditto, and at the\nsame time you can be having dreams! More a state of coma than actual\nsleep, perhaps. I think what happened was one probably slept for a\nminute and then woke up again to go off once more.\nI became \"Wuzzy's\" adopted mother about now and, whenever I had time,\ncombed and brushed his silver curls till they stood out like fluff. He\ncould spot Susan miles away, and though it was against rules I sometimes\ntook him on board. As we neared camp I told him he must get down, but he\nwould put on an obstinate expression and deliberately push himself\nbehind my back, in between me and the canvas, so that I was almost on\nthe steering wheel. At other times he would listen to me for awhile,\ntake it all in, and then put his head on my shoulder with such an\nappealing gesture that I used to risk being spotted, and let him remain.\nHe simply adored coming out if I was going riding, but I disliked having\nhim intensely, for he ran about under the horses, nibbling at them and\nmaking himself a general nuisance. He would watch me through half shut\neyes the minute I began polishing my riding boots; and try as I would to\nevade him he nearly always came in the end.\nHe got so crafty in time he would wait for me at the bottom of the drive\nand dash out from among the shrubs just as I was vanishing. One day we\nhad trotted some distance along the Sangatte road, and I was just\ncongratulating myself I had given him the slip, when looking up, there\nhe was sitting on a grassy knoll just ahead, positively laughing and\nlicking his chops with self-satisfied glee. I gave it up after that, I\nfelt I couldn't cope with him, and yet there were those who called him\nstupid! I grant you he had his bad days when he was referred to as my\n\"idiot son,\" but even then he was only just \"peculiar\"--a world of\ndifference.\nOne job we had was termed \"lodgers\" and consisted of meeting the\n\"sitting\" cases from an ambulance train, taking them to the different\nhospitals for the night, and then back to the quay early next morning in\ntime to catch the hospital ship to England. The stretcher cases had been\nput on board the night before, but there was no sleeping accommodation\nfor so many \"sitters.\" An ordinary evacuation often took place as well,\nso that before breakfast we had sometimes carried as many as thirty-five\nsitting cases, and done journeys with twelve stretchers. One day at No.\n30 hospital I saw several of the girls beside a stretcher, and there was\nthe \"Bovril king\" lying swathed in blankets, chatting affably! He was\nthe cook at No. 30, a genial soul, who always rushed out in the early\nhours of the morning when one was feeling emptiest, with a cup of hot\nsoup. He called it doing his bit, and always referred to himself proudly\nas the \"Bovril king.\" Alas, he was now being invalided home with\nbronchitis!\nHope came back from leave and told me she had been pursued half way down\nRegent Street by a fat old taxi driver who asked after me. It was dear\nold Stone, of course, now returned to civil life and his smart taxi with\nthe silver \"vauses!\" I have hunted the stands in vain for his smiling\nrosy face, but hope to spot him some day and have my three days' joy\nride.\nOne precious whole afternoon off, a very rare event, I went out for a\nride with Captain D. He rode \"Baby,\" a little bay mare, and I rode a\ngrey, a darling, with perfect manners and the \"sweetest\" mouth in the\nworld. He was devoted to \"Baby,\" and wherever she went he went too, as\nsurely as Mary's little lamb.\nWe struck off the road on to some grass and after cantering along for\nsome distance found we were in a network of small canals--the ground was\nvery spongy and the canal ahead of us fortunately not as wide as the\nrest. We got over safely, landing in deep mud on the other side, and\ndecided our best plan was to make for the road again. We espied a house\nat the end of the strip we were in with a road beyond, and agreed that\nthere must be a bridge or something leading to it. Captain D. went off\nat a canter and I saw Baby break into a startled gallop as a train\nsteamed up on the line beyond the road. They disappeared behind the\nhouse and I followed on at a canter. I turned the corner just in time to\nsee them almost wholly immersed in a wide canal and the gallant Captain\ncrawling over Baby's head on to the bank! It was one of those deceptive\nspots where half the water was overgrown with thick weeds and cress,\nmaking the place appear as narrow again.\nThe grey was of course hot on Baby's track. Seeing her plight I\nnaturally pulled up, but he resented this strongly and rose straight on\nhis hind legs. Fearing he would over-balance, I quickly slacked the\nreins and leant forward on his neck. But it was too late; that slippery\nmud was no place to try and regain a foothold, and over he came. I just\nhad time to slip off sideways, promptly lost my foothold and collapsed\nas well. How I laughed! There was Captain D. on one side of the canal\nvainly trying to capture his \"wee red tourie\" floating down stream, and\nBaby standing by with the mud dripping from her once glossy flanks; and\non the other was I, sitting laughing helplessly in the mud, and the grey\n(now almost brown) softly nosing my cap and eyeing his beloved on the\nfurther bank with pained surprise!\nTo crown all, the train, which had come to a standstill, was by the\nirony of fate full of Scottish soldiers on their way up the line. Such a\nbit of luck in the shape of a free cinema show had rarely come their\nway and they were bent on enjoying it to the fullest extent. The fact\nthat the officer now standing ruefully on the bank was in Tartan riding\n\"troos\" of course added to the piquancy of the situation.\nThe woman had come out of her cottage by this time and kept exclaiming\nat intervals, \"Oh, la-la, Oh, la-la,\" probably imagining that this\nmudbath was only a new pastime of the mad English. She at last was kind\nenough to open the gate; and thither I led the grey and then across a\nplank bridge beyond, previously hidden from sight.\nWe scraped the mud off the saddles under a running fire of witty\ncomments from the train. I knew the whole thing had given them so much\nenjoyment that I bore them no illwill. I could see their point of view\nso well, it must have been such fun to watch! \"Hoots, mon,\" they called\nto the now thoroughly embarrassed D., as we mounted, \"are ye no going to\nlift the lassie oop?\" I was glad we were \"oop\" and away before the train\nstarted again, and as we trotted along the road, cries of \"Guid luck to\nye!\" \"May ye have a happy death!\" (which is a regular north-country\nwish, and a very nice one when you come to think of it), followed us.\nThe batman eyed us suspiciously as we reached Fontinettes where he was\nwaiting for the horses, and remarked that they seemed to have had a \"bit\nroll.\" My topcoat I'm glad to say covered all traces of the \"bit roll\" I\nhad indulged in on my own. It was a great ride entirely.\nOne night for some reason I was unable to sleep--a rare occurrence--and\nbethought me of an exciting spy book, called the _German Submarine\nBase_, I had begun weeks before but had had no time to finish. All was\ndead quiet with the exception of the distant steady boom of the guns,\nwhich one of course hardly noticed. I had just got to the most thrilling\npart and was holding my breath from sheer excitement when whiz! sob!\nbang! and a shell went spinning over the huts. For a moment I thought I\nmust be dreaming or that the book was bewitched. Next minute I was out\nof bed like a rabbit, and turning off the light, dashed outside just as\nthe second went over. I naturally looked skyward, but there was not a\nsign of anything and, stranger still, not even the throb of an engine. A\nthird went over with a loud screech, and my hair was blown into the air\nby the rushing wind it caused. I saw a flash from the sea and Thompson\nsaid she was wakened by my voice calling, \"I say, come out and see this\nnew stunt.\" Soon everyone was up and the shells came on steadily,\nblowing our hair about, and making the very pebbles rush rattling along\nthe ground, hitting against our feet with such force we thought at first\nit must be spent shrapnel. Some of those shells screeched and some\nmiauled like huge cats hurtling through the air to spring on their prey.\nThese latter made a cold shiver run down my spine; the noise they made\nwas so blood-curdling. One could cope with the ordinary ones, but\nfrankly, these were beastly. Luckily they only went over about every\ntenth. It was something quite new getting shells of this calibre from\nsuch a short range, and \"side-ways,\" too, as someone expressed it; quite\na different sensation from on top. The noise was deafening; and then one\nstruck the bank our camp was built on. We had no dug-out and seemingly\nwere just waiting to be potted at. We got the cars ready in case we were\ncalled up, and the shells whizzed over all the time. There was another\nexplosion--one had landed in our incinerator! Good business! Another hit\nthe bank again! Once more the fact of being so near the danger proved\nour safety, for with these three exceptions, they all passed over into\nthe town beyond. The smell of powder in the air was so strong it made us\nsneeze. It was estimated roughly that 300 shells were lobbed into the\ntown, and all passing over us on the way.\nIt was a German destroyer that had somehow got down the coast\nunchallenged, and was--we heard afterwards--only at a distance of 100\nyards! What a chance for good shooting on our part; but it was a pitch\nblack night and somehow she got away in the velvet darkness. Sounds of\nfiring at sea--easily distinguishable from those on land because of the\n\"plop\" after them--continued throughout the night and we thought a naval\nbattle was in progress somewhere; however, it proved to be one of the\nbombardments of England, according to the papers next day. To our great\ndisappointment, our little \"drop in the bucket\" of 300 odd shells was\nnot even mentioned.\nThere was much eager scratching in the bank for bits of shells the next\nday. One big piece was made into a paper-weight by the old Scotch\ncarpenter, and another was put on the \"narrow escape\" shelf among the\nother bits that had \"nearly, but not quite!\"\nWild rumours had got round the camps and town that the \"lady drivers had\ngot it proper,\" been \"completely wiped out,\" in fact not one left alive\nto tell the lurid tale. So that wherever we drove the next morning we\nwere greeted with cheery nods and smiles by everyone. The damage to the\ntown was considerable, but the loss of life singularly small. The Detail\nIssue Stores had gone so far as to exchange bets as to whether we would\nappear to draw rations that morning, and as I drove up with Bridget on\nthe box we were greeted right royally. One often found large oranges in\none's tool box, or a bag of nuts, or something of the kind, popped in by\na kindly Tommy who would pass the car and merely say: \"Don't forget to\nlook in your tool-box when you get to camp, Miss,\" and be gone before\nyou could even thank him! All the choicest \"cuts\" were also reserved for\nus by the butcher and we were altogether spoilt pretty generally.\nTommy is certainly a nailer at what he terms \"commandeering.\" I was down\nat the M.T. yard one day and as I left, was told casually to look in the\nbox when I got to camp. I did so, and to my horror saw a wonderful foot\npump--the pneumatic sort. I had visions of being hauled up before a\nCourt of Enquiry to produce the said pump, which was a brand new one and\npainted bright red. On my next job I made a point of going round by the\nM.T. yard to return the \"present.\" I found my obliging friend, who was\npained in the extreme at the mere mention of a pump. \"Never 'eard of\none,\" he affirmed stoutly. \"Leastways,\" he said reminiscently, looking\nat me out of the corner of his eye, \"I do seem to remember something\nabout a stawf car bein' in 'ere this morning when yours was\"--and he\nsmiled disarmingly. \"Look 'ere,\" he continued, \"you forget all about it,\nMiss. I 'ates to see yer puffing at the tyres with them old-fashioned\nones, and anyway,\" with a grin, \"that car's in Abbeville now!\"\nAnother little example of similar \"commandeering\" was when my friend of\nthe chopped sticks turned up one day with a small Primus stove: \"I 'eard\nyou was askin' for one, and 'ere it is,\" and with that he put it down\nand fled. After the pump episode I was full of suspicions about little\nthings that \"turned up\" from nowhere, but for a long time I had no\nopportunity of asking him exactly where the gift had come from. One\nnight, however, one of the doctors from the adjacent hut hospital was up\nin camp, and Primus stoves suddenly cropped up in the conversation.\n\"Most extraordinary thing,\" said he, \"my batman is as honest as the day,\nand can't account for the disappearance of my stove at all. No one went\ninto my hut, he declares, and yet the stove is gone, and not so much as\na sign of it. One thing is I'd know it if I saw it again.\" I started\nguiltily at this, and got rather pink--\"Look here,\" I said, \"come into\nmy hut a moment.\" He did so. \"By Jove! that's my stove right enough,\" he\ncried, \"I know the scratches on it. How on earth did you get it?\" \"That\nI can't tell you,\" I replied, \"but you can have it back\" (graciously),\n\"and look here, it wasn't _your_ batman, so rest easy.\" He was too wise\nto ask unnecessary questions (one didn't in France), and only too\nthankful to get his Primus, which he joyfully carried back in state. It\nwas a pity about it, because they were impossible to get at that time,\nand our huts had already been raided for electric kettles.\nGothas came frequently to visit us at night and terrible scenes took\nplace, during which we were ordered out amid the dropping bombs to carry\nthe injured to hospital, but more often than not to collect the dead, or\nwhat was left of them.\nOne morning I was in great distress, for I lost my purse through the\nlining of my wolf-coat. It was not the loss of the purse that worried\nme, but the fact that I always kept the little medal of the Virgin and\nChild in there, given me by the old Scotch nun in Paris \"for\nprotection.\" \"Eva,\" I called, \"I've lost my luck--that little charm I\nhad given me in 1915--I do wish I hadn't. I'm not superstitious in the\nordinary way, but I kind of believe in that thing;\" she only laughed\nhowever. But I took the trouble to advertise for it in the local\npaper--unfortunately with no result. I was very distressed.\nOur concert party got really quite a slap-up show going about this time.\nWe also had a drop scene behind--a huge white linen sheet on which we\n_appliqu\u00e9d_ big black butterflies fluttering down to a large sunflower\nin the corner, the petals of which were the same yellow as the bobbles\non our dresses. We came to the conclusion that something of the sort was\nnecessary, for as often as not we had to perform in front of\npuce-coloured curtains that hardly showed us up to the best advantage.\nOne of the best shows we ever gave I think was for the M.T. _d\u00e9p\u00f4t_.\nThey did so much for us one way and another repairing cars (not to\nmention details like the foot pump episode), that we were only too glad\nto do something for them in return. The _pi\u00e8ce de r\u00e9sistance_ (at least,\nDicky and I thought so) was a skit we got up on one of \"Lena's\" concert\nparty stars--a ventriloquist stunt. We thought of it quite suddenly and\nonly had time for one rehearsal before the actual performance. I paid a\nvisit to Corporal Coy of the mortuary (one of the local low comedians,\nwho, like the coffin-cart man at Lamarck, \"had a merry eye!\" and was a\nrecognized past-master in the art of make-up), and borrowed his little\nbowler hat for the occasion. He listened solemnly to the scheme, and\ninsisted on making me a fascinating little Charlie Chaplin moustache\n(the requisites for which he kept somewhere in the mortuary with the\nrest of his disguises!) and he then taught me to waggle it with great\nskill!\nDicky was the \"doll\" with round shiny patches of red on her cheeks and a\nTommy's cap and hospital blue coat. She supplied the glassy stare\nherself most successfully. For these character stunts we simply put on\ncaps and coats over our \"Fantastik\" kit and left the rest to the\nimagination of the audience who was quick (none quicker) to grasp the\nimplied suggestion. I was \"Mr. Lenard Ashwell\" in aforementioned bowler,\nmoustache, and coat. We made up the dialogue partly on the basis of the\noriginal performance, and added a lot of local colour. I asked the\nquestions, and was of course supposed to ventriloquize the answers, and,\nthanks to the glassy stare of my doll, her replies almost convinced the\naudience I was doing so.\nThey had all seen the real thing a fortnight before, so that we were\ngreeted with shouts of laughter as the curtain went up.\nThe trouble was, as we had only written the book of words that day it\nwas rather hard for me to remember them, so I had taken the precaution\nof safety-pinning them on my doll's back. It was all right for her as\nshe got the cue from me. It was not difficult, half supporting her as I\nappeared to be, to squint behind occasionally for the next jest! On one\nof these occasions my incorrigible doll horrified me by winking at the\naudience and exclaiming, to their delight, \"The bloke's got all the\nwords on my back!\" She then revolved out of my grasp, and spun slowly\nround on her stool. This unrehearsed effect quite brought the house\ndown, and not to be outdone, I raised my small bowler repeatedly in\nacknowledgment!\nI was a little taken aback the next morning when the man at the petrol\nstores said, \"My, but you wos a fair treat as Charlie Chaplin last\nnight, Miss.\" (It must have been Corporal Coy's moustache that did it,\nnot to mention lifting my bowler from the rear!)\nThe more local colour you get in a show of that sort the better the men\nlike it, and we parodied all the latest songs as fast as they came out.\nWinnie and \"Squig\" in Unity More's \"_Clock strikes Thirteen_\" were\nextremely popular, especially when they sang with reference to cranking\nup in the mornings:\n     Wind, wind. _Oh_ what a grind!\n       I could weep, I could swear, I could scream,\n     Both my arms ache, and my back seems to break\n       But she'll go when the clock strikes thirteen.\n     Oh, oh (with joy), at last she will go!\n     There's a spark from the bloomin' machine,\n     She's going like fire, when bang goes a tyre\n     And we'll start when the clock strikes thirteen!\nThe whole programme was as follows:--\n   1. The FANTASTIKS announce their shortcomings in\n   chorus of original words to the opening music of the Bing\n   Boys--\"We're the FANTASTIKS, and we rise at six and\n   don't get much time to rehearse, so if songs don't go, and\n   the show is slow, well, we hope you'll say it might have\n   been worse,\" etc., etc.\n   2. _Violin_  1. \"Andantino\" (Kreisler) }\n   3. _Recitation_      Humorous            N.F. LOWSON\n   4. _Chorus Song_   \"Piccadilly\"                 FANTASTIKS (in monocles)\n      (Sung in the dark with lighted Chinese lanterns, quite\n        professional in effect--at least we hoped so!)\n   7. _Recitation_        Serious                  B. HUTCHINSON\n   8. Mr. Lenard Ashwell and his }                    { M. RICHARDSON\n   9. _Duet_   \"When the Clock strikes Thirteen\"   G. QUIN AND\n   10. _Violin Solo_  \"Zigeunerweisen\" (Sarasate)  P.B. WADDELL\nThe chorus wore their goat-coats for this last item, and with animal\nmasks fixed by elastic, bears, wolves, elephants, etc., it was\ndistinctly realistic.\nWhen \"God save the King\" had been sung, and the usual thanks and cheers\ngiven, and received, the Sergeant-Major from the Canteen (with the\nbeautiful waxed moustache) rushed forward to say that light refreshments\nhad been provided. The \"grizzly bears\" were only too thankful, as they\nhad had no time to snatch even a bun before they left camp.\nCHAPTER XVI\nTHE LAST RIDE\nThe hardest job in the Convoy was admittedly that of the big lorry, for,\nearly and late, it was first and last on the field.\nIt took all the stretchers and blankets to the different hospitals,\ncleared up the quay after an early evacuation, brought stretchers and\nblankets up to the Convoy, took the officers' kits to hospital and\nboats, and rationed the ambulance trains and barges. \"Jimmy\" took to the\nVulcan instinctively when the Convoy was first started and jealously\nkept to the job, but after a time she was forcibly removed therefrom in\norder to take a rest. I could sympathize--I knew how I had felt about\nthe little lorry.\nThe job was to be taken in fortnightly turns, and while the old Vulcan\nlorry was being overhauled a Wyllis-Overland was sent in its place.\nThe disadvantage of the lorry was that you never saw any of your\nfriends, for you were always on duty when they were off, and vice versa;\nalso you hardly ever had meals when they did. Eva's fortnight was almost\nup, and I was hoping to see something of her before I went on leave when\none night in she came with the news that I was the next one for\nit--hardly a welcome surprise; and down at barges that evening--it was a\nSunday--Gamwell, the Sergeant, told me officially I was to take on the\njob next morning at 5 a.m.\nWhen I got back to Camp I went for a preliminary run on it, as I had\nnever driven that make before. The tyres were solid, all vestige of\nsprings had long since departed from the seat and the roof was covered\nwith tin that bent and rattled like stage thunder. The gears were in the\nmiddle and very worn, and the lever never lost an opportunity of\nslipping into first as you got out, and consequently the lorry tried to\nrun over you when you cranked up! Altogether a charming car. You drove\nalong like a travelling thunder-clap, and coming up the slope into Camp\nthe earth fairly shook beneath you. I used to feel like the whole of\nValhalla arriving in a Wagner Opera! It was also quite impossible to\nhear what anyone said sitting on the seat beside you.\nThe third day, as I got out, I felt all my bones over carefully. \"When I\ncome off this job,\" I called to Johnson, \"I shall certainly swallow a\nbottle of gum as a wise precaution.\" He grinned appreciatively.\nLowson, who had had her turn before Eva, appropriately christened it\n\"Little Willie,\" and I can affirm that that car had a Hun soul.\nYou were up and dressed at 5 a.m. and waited about camp till the\ntelephone bell rang to say the train had arrived. Schofield, the\nincinerator man who was usually in the camp at that hour, never failed\nto make a cup of tea--a most welcome thing, for one never got back to\ncamp to have breakfast till 11 or 11.30 a.m. I used to spend the\ninterval, after \"Little Willie\" was all prepared for the road, combing\nout Wuzzy's silver curls. He always accompanied the lorry and was\nallowed to sit, or rather jolt, on the seat beside me, unrebuked. After\nbreakfast there was the quay to clear up and all the many other details\nto attend to, getting back to camp about 3 to go off in an hour's time\nto barges. When a Fontinettes ambulance train came down, the lorry\ndriver was lucky if she got to bed this side of 2 a.m.\nAll social engagements in the way of rides, etc., had to be cancelled in\nconsequence, but the Monday before I went into hospital the grey and\nBaby appeared up in camp about 5.30. I was hanging about waiting for the\ntelephone to say the barge had arrived, but as there was a high wind\nblowing it was considered very unlikely it would come down the canal\nthat evening. I 'phoned to a station several miles up to enquire if it\nwas in sight, and the reply came back \"Not a sign,\" and I accordingly\ngot permission to go out for half an hour. I was so afraid Captain D.\nmight not consider it worth while and could have almost wept, but\nfortunately he agreed half an hour was better than nothing, and off we\nwent up the sands, leaving the bob-tailed Wuzzy well in the rear. What a\nglorious gallop that was--my last ride! The sands appeared almost\ngolden in the sun and the wind was whipping the deep blue waves into\nlittle crests of foam against the paler turquoise of the sky. Already\nthe flowers on the dunes had burst into leaf, for it was the \"merrie\nmonth of May,\" and there, away on the horizon, the white cliffs of\nEngland could just be discerned. Altogether it was good to be alive.\n\"Hurrah,\" I cried, as we slowed down to a walk, \"five more days and then\non leave to England!\" and I rubbed the grey's neck with joy. Alas! that\nhalf hour flew like ten minutes and we turned all too soon and raced\nback, thudding along over the glorious sands as we went.\nI got to the Convoy to find there was no news of the barge, but I had to\ndismount all the same--duty is duty--and I kissed the grey's nose,\nlittle thinking I should never see him again. The barge did not come\ndown till 9 o'clock the next morning. _C'est la guerre_--and a _very_\ntrying one to boot!\nThe weather was ideal just then: warm and sunny and not a cloud in the\nsky except for those little round white puffs where the Archie shells\nburst round the visiting Huns.\nOne afternoon about 5 o'clock, when breakfast had been at lunch time and\nconsequently that latter meal had been _n'apoo'd_ altogether, I went\ninto the E.M.O.'s for the chits before leaving for camp. (These initials\nstood for \"Embarkation Medical Officer\" and always designated the office\nand shed where the blankets and stretchers were kept; also,\nincidentally, the place where the Corporal and two men slept.) As I\nentered a most appetising odour greeted my nostrils and I suddenly\nrealized how very hungry I was. I sniffed the air and wondered what it\ncould be.\n\"Just goin' to have a cockle tea,\" explained the Corporal. \"I suppose,\nMiss, you wouldn't care to join us?\" I knew the brew at the Convoy would\nbe long since cold, and accepted the invitation joyfully.\nTheir \"dining-room\" was but the shed where the stretchers were piled up,\nmany of them brown and discoloured by blood, and bundles of fusty army\nblankets, used as coverings for the wounded, reached almost to the\nceiling. They were like the stretchers in some cases, and always sticky\nto the touch. I could not repress a shudder as I turned away to the much\nmore welcome sight of tea. A newspaper was spread on the rough table in\nmy honour and Wheatley was despatched \"at the double\" to find the only\nsaucer! (Those who knew the good Wheatley will perhaps fail to imagine\nhe could attain such a speed--dear Wheatley, with his long spindle legs\nand quaint serio-comic face. He was a man of few words and a heart of\ngold.)\nI look back on that \"cockle tea\" as one of my happiest memories. It was\nso jolly and we were all so gay and full of hope, for things were going\nwell up the line.\nI had never tasted cockles before and thought they were priceless. We\ndiscussed all manner of things during tea and I learnt a lot about their\naspirations for _apr\u00e8s la guerre_. It was singular to think that within\na short month, of that happy party Headley the Corporal alone remained\nsound and whole. One was killed by a shell falling on the E.M.O. One was\nin hospital crippled for life, and the third was brought in while I was\nthere and died shortly after from septic pneumonia. Little did we think\nwhat was in store as we drank tea so merrily!\nWheatley insisted on putting a bass bag full of cockles into the lorry\nbefore I left, and when I got to camp I ran to the cook-house thinking\nhow they would welcome a variation for supper.\n\"Cockles?\" asked Bridget. \"Humph, I suppose you know they grow on sewers\nand people who eat them die of ptomaine poisoning?\" \"No,\" I said, not at\nall crestfallen, \"do they really, well I've just eaten a whole bag full!\nIf they give me a military funeral I do hope you'll come,\" and I\ndeparted, feeling rather hurt, to issue further invitations.\nI was drawing petrol at the Stores the next day and as I was signing for\nit the man there (my Charlie Chaplin friend) kindly began to crank up.\nAs he did so I saw Little Willie move gently forward, and ran out to\nslip the gear back into \"neutral.\"\n\"It's a Hun and called 'Little Willie,'\" I explained as I did so.\n\"Crikey, wot a car,\" he observed, \"no wonder you calls it that. Don't\nyou let him put it acrosst you, Miss.\"\n\"He's only four more days to do it in,\" I thought joyfully, as I rattled\noff to the Quay, and yet somehow a premonition of some evil thing about\nto happen hung over me, and again I wished I hadn't lost my charm.\nThe next day was Wednesday, and I had been up since 5 and was taking a\nlorry-full of stretchers and blankets past a French Battery to the\nE.M.O.'s. It was about midday and there was not a cloud in the sky. Then\nsuddenly my heart stood still. Somehow, instinctively, I knew I was \"for\nit\" at last. Whole eternities seemed to elapse before the crash. There\nwas no escape. Could I urge Little Willie on? I knew it was hopeless;\neven as I did so he bucketed and failed to respond. He would! How I\nlonged for Susan, who could always be relied upon to sprint forward. At\nlast the crash came. I felt myself being hurled from the car into the\nair, to fall and be swept along for some distance, my face being\nliterally rubbed in the ground. I remember my rage at this, and even in\nthat extreme moment managed to seize my nose in the hope that it at\nleast might not be broken! Presently I was left lying in a crumpled heap\non the ground. My first thought, oddly enough, was for the car, which I\nsaw standing sulkily and somewhat battered not far off. \"There _will_ be\na row,\" I thought. The stretcher bearer in behind had been killed\ninstantaneously, but fortunately I did not know of this till some time\nlater, nor did I even know he had jumped in behind. The car rattled to\nsuch an extent I had not heard the answer to my query, if anyone was\ncoming with me to unload the stretchers.\nI tried to move and found it impossible. \"What a mess I'm in,\" was my\nnext thought, \"and how my legs ache!\" I tried to move them too, but it\nwas no good. \"They must both be broken,\" I concluded. I put my hand to\nmy head and brought it away all sticky. \"That's funny,\" I thought,\n\"where can it have come from?\" and then I caught sight of my hand. It\nwas all covered with blood. I began to have a panic that my back might\nbe injured and I would not be able to ride again. That was all that\nreally worried me. I had always dreaded anything happening to my back,\nsomehow.\nThe French soldiers were down from their Battery in a trice, all great\nfriends of mine to whom I had often thrown ration cigarettes.\nGaspard (that was not his name, I never knew it, but always called him\nthat in my own mind after Raymond's hero) gave a cry and was on the\nground beside me, calling me his \"little cabbage,\" his \"poor little\npigeon,\" and presently he half lifted me in his arms and cradled me as\nhe might a baby. I remained quite conscious the whole time. \"Will I be\nable to ride again?\" kept hammering through my brain. The pain was\nbecoming rapidly worse and I began to wonder just where my legs were\nbroken. As I could move neither I could not discover at all, and\npresently I gave a gasp as I felt something tighten and hurt terribly.\nIt was a boot lace they were fixing to stop the h\u00e6morrhage (bootlaces\nare used for everything in France). The men stood round, and I watched\nthem furtively wiping the tears away that rolled down their furrowed\ncheeks. One even put his arm over his eyes as a child does. I wondered\nvaguely why they were crying; it never dawned on me it had anything to\ndo with _me_. \"Compl\u00e8tement coup\u00e9e,\" I heard one say, and quick as a\nshot, I asked, \"O\u00f9 est-ce que c'est qu'est coup\u00e9?\" and those tactful\nsouls, just rough soldiers, replied without hesitation, \"La jaquette,\nMademoiselle.\"\n\"Je m'en fiche de la jaquette,\" I answered, completely reassured.\nI wished the ambulance would come soon. \"I _am_ in a beastly mess,\" I\nthought again. \"Fancy broken legs hurting like this. What must the men\ngo through!\"\nIt was singular I was so certain they were broken. But a month before I\nhad received a wire from the War Office stating one of my brothers had\ncrashed 1,000 feet and had two legs fractured, and without more ado I\ntook it for granted I was in a similar plight. \"I won't sit up and\nlook,\" I decided, \"or I shall think I'm worse than I am. There's sure to\nbe some blood about,\" and the sun beat down fiercely, drying what there\nwas on my face into hard cakes. My lower lip had also been cut inside\nsomehow. One man took off his coat and held it high up to form a shade.\nI saw everything that happened with a terrible distinctness. They had\nalready bound up my head, which was cut and bleeding profusely.\nThe pain was becoming almost intolerable and I wondered if in time I\nwould cry, but luckily one does not cry on those occasions; it becomes\nan impossibility somehow. I even began to wish I could. I asked to have\nmy legs lifted a little and the pain seemed to ease somewhat. I shall\nnever forget those Frenchmen. They were perfect. How often I had smiled\nat them as I passed, and laughed to see them standing in a ring like\nnaughty schoolboys, peeling potatoes, their Sergeant walking round to\nsee that it was done properly!\nThe little French doctor from the Battery, who had once helped me change\na tyre, came running up and I covered the scratched side of my face lest\nhe should get too much of a shock. \"Je suis joliment dans la soupe,\" I\nsaid, and saw him go as white as a sheet. \"These Frenchmen are very\nsympathetic,\" I thought, for it had dawned on me what they were crying\nabout by that time.\nJust then an ambulance train came down the line and the two English\ndoctors were fetched. A tourniquet which seemed like a knife, and hurt\nterribly, was applied as well as the bootlace. I was also given some\nmorphia. \"This will hurt a little,\" he said as he pushed in the needle,\nwhich I thought distinctly humorous. As if a prick from a hypodermic\ncould be anything in comparison with what was going on \"down there\"\nwhere I hadn't courage to look! His remark had one good effect though,\nbecause I thought: \"If he thinks _that_ will hurt there can't be much to\nfuss over down there.\"\nWould the ambulance never arrive? I wondered if we were always so\nlong--which F.A.N.Y. would come? \"She's cranked up by now and on the\nway, probably as far as the bridge,\" I thought. I drove all the way down\nin my own mind and yet she did not arrive, but they had 'phoned to the\nFrench hospital in the town and not the Convoy. I did not know this till\nI saw the French car arrive.\nIt seemed an age. Gaspard never moved once from his cramped position and\nkept saying soothingly from time to time: \"Allons, p'tit chou, mon\npauvre petit pigeon, \u00e7a viendra tout \u00e0 l'heure, h\u00e9 la petite.\"\nAt last the ambulance came. I dreaded being lifted, but those soldiers\nraised me so tenderly the wrench was not half as bad as I had\nanticipated. I had been there just over forty minutes. Then began the\njourney in the ambulance. The men gave me a fine salute as I was taken\noff and I waved good-bye. One of the Sisters from the train came in the\ncar with me and also the little French doctor whose hand I hung on to\nmost of the way, and which incidentally must have been like pulp when we\narrived.\nAs luck would have it the driver was a new man, and neither the doctor\nnor the sister knew the way, so I had to give the directions. The doctor\nwas all for taking me to the French military hospital, but I asked to\nbe taken to the Casino.\n\"So this is what the men go through every day,\" I thought, as we were\ninto a hole and out again with a bump and the pain became almost too\nmuch to bear. The doctor swore at the driver, and I took another grip of\nhis hand. \"Bien difficile de ne pas faire \u00e7a,\" I murmured, for I knew he\nhad really manoeuvred it well. The constant give of the springs\njiggling endlessly up and down, up and down, was as trying as anything.\nThe trouble was I knew every hole in that road and soon we had to cross\nrailway lines! The sister, who was a stranger too, began to worry how\nshe would find her way back to the train, but I assured her once arrived\nat the Casino, she only had to walk up to our camp to get a F.A.N.Y.\ncar. \"I hope there won't be many people there when I'm pulled out,\" I\nthought, \"I hate being stared at in such a beastly mess,\" above all I\nhated a fuss.\nNow we had come to the railway lines. \"What would it have been like\nwithout morphia?\" I wondered. Of course the drawbridge was up and that\nmeant at least ten minutes wait till the ships went through. My luck\nseemed dead out. At last I heard the familiar clang as it rattled into\nplace, and we were over.\nI dared not close my eyes, as I had a sort of feeling I'd never be able\nto open them again. \"Only up the slope and then I'm there. If I can't\nkeep them open till then, I'm done.\" The pain was getting worse again,\nand from what the sister said I gathered something down there had begun\nto h\u00e6morrhage once more. Still no thought of the truth ever dawned on\nme.\nAt last we arrived and slowly backed into place. I could not help seeing\nthe grim humour of the situation; I had driven so many wounded men there\nmyself. The Colonel, who must have heard, for he was waiting, looked\nvery white and worried, and Leather, one of the Duchess' drivers,\nstarted visibly as I was pulled out. I was told after that my\ncomplexion, or what could be seen of it, was ashen grey in colour and if\nmy eyes had not been open they would have thought the worst. I was\ncarried into the big hall and there my beloved Wuzzy found me. I heard a\nlittle whine and felt a warm tongue licking my face--luckily he had not\nbeen with me that morning.\n\"Take that ---- dog away, someone,\" cried the Colonel, who was peevish\nin the extreme. \"He's not a ---- dog,\" I protested, and then up came a\nPadre who asked gravely, \"What are you, my child?\" Thinking I was now\nfairly unrecognisable by this time with the Frenchman's hanky round my\nhead, etc., I replied, \"A F.A.N.Y., of course!\" This completely\nscandalized the good Padre. When he had recovered, he said, \"No, you\nmistake me, what religion I mean?\"\n\"He wants to know what to bury me under,\" I thought, \"what a thoroughly\ncheerful soul!\" \"C. of E.,\" I replied as per identity disc. He then took\nmy home address, which seemed an unnecessary fuss, and I was left in\npeace. Captain C. was there as well and came over to the stretcher.\n\"I've broken both legs,\" I announced, \"will I be able to ride again?\"\n\"Of course you will,\" he said.\n\"Sure?\" I asked.\n\"Rather,\" he replied, and I felt comforted.\nI was then carried straight through ward I. into the operating theatre.\nThe men in bed looked rather startled, and Barratt, a man I had driven\nand been visiting since, was near the door. What he said is hardly\nrepeatable. When the British Tommy is much moved he usually becomes\nthoroughly profane! I waved to him as I disappeared through the door\ninto the theatre.\nI was speedily undressed. Dicky appeared mysteriously from somewhere and\nwas a brick. The room seemed to be full of nurses and orderlies and then\nI went slipping off into oblivion as the chloroform took effect (my\nfirst dose and at that time very welcome) and at last I was in a land\nwhere pain becomes obliterated in one vast empty space.\nI woke that afternoon and of course wondered where I was. Everything\nseemed to be aching and throbbing at once. I tried to move, but I felt\nas if I was clamped to the bed. \"This is terrible,\" I thought, \"I must\nbe having a nightmare.\" Then I saw the cradle covering my legs. \"What\ncould it be?\" I wondered, and then in a flash the scenes of that morning\n(or was it a week ago?) came back to me. I wondered if my back was all\nright and felt carefully down the side. No, there was no bandage, and I\nsighed with relief, though it ached like fury. I could feel the top of\nthe wooden splints on the one leg but nothing but bandages on the other.\nMy head had been sewn up, also my lip, and a nice tight bandage replaced\nthe hanky.\nIt was thumping wildly and presently an unseen figure gave me something\nvery cool to sip out of a feeding mug. Things straightened out a bit\nafter that, and I saw there were quantities of flowers in the room,\njugfuls in fact, which had been sent to cheer me along. Then something\nin my leg, the one that was hurting most, gave a fearful tug and a jump\nand I drew in my breath with a sobbing gasp. What could it be? It felt\njust as if someone had tugged it on purpose, and it took ages to settle\ndown again. I looked mutely at my nurse for an explanation, and she put\na cool hand on mine.\nIt was the severed nerve, and I learnt to dread those involuntary jumps\nthat came so suddenly from nowhere and seized one like a deadly cramp.\nEverything, including my back, was one vast ache punctuated by those\nappalling nerve jumps that set every other one in my body tingling.\nHow I longed to turn on my side, but that was a luxury denied me for\nweeks.\nMy friend Eva had heard the cheerful news when she returned from\nBoulogne, where she had been all day, and she and Lowson were allowed to\ncome and see me for a few minutes.\n\"I've broken both legs,\" I stated. \"Isn't it the limit? They don't half\nhurt.\" They nodded sympathetically, not daring to give me a hint of the\nreal state of affairs.\n\"Captain C. says I'll be able to ride again though,\" I added, and once\nmore they nodded.\n\"I told you what would happen when I lost that charm,\" I said to Eva.\nI asked after \"Little Willie,\" and heard his remains had been towed to\ncamp, though being a Hun he would of course manage to escape somehow!\nI had an adorable V.A.D. to look after me. The best I ever want to have.\nShe seemed to know exactly what I wanted without being told. I felt\nalmost too tired to speak, and in any case it's not easy with stitches\nin your mouth.\nThe Padre, not my friend of the entrance hall I was glad to note, came\nto see me and I had a Communion Service all to myself, as they thought I\nmight possibly die in the night.\nI dreaded the nights as I'd dreaded nothing before in my life; with\ndarkness everything seemed to become intensified. Whenever I did manage\nto snatch a few moments' sleep the dreadful demon that seemed to lurk\nsomewhere just out of sight would pop up and jerk my leg again. I would\nthink to myself \"Now I will really catch him next time,\" and I would lie\nwaiting in readiness, but just as I thought I was safe, jerk! and my leg\nwould jump worse than ever. I clenched my fists in rage, and the V.A.D.\ncame from behind the screen to smooth the pillows for me. I used to lie\nand think of all the thousands of men in hospital and perhaps even lying\nuntended in No-man's-land going through twice as much as I, and wondered\nif the world would really be any the better for all this suffering or if\nit would be forgotten as soon as the war was over. It seemed to be\nrather a waste if it was to be so.\nWhen morning came there were the dressings to be done. At 10 o'clock I\nused to try and imagine it was really 11, and all over, but the rattle\nof the trolley and terribly cheerful voice of Sister left room for no\nillusions on that score. My hands were useful on these occasions, and at\nthe end of the half hour were excellent examples of the shape of my\nteeth! They were practically the only parts completely uninjured, and I\nknew that whatever happened I could still play the violin again.\nI could not understand why one leg had jumping nerves and the other\napparently had none and argued that the one must be half-broken to\naccount for it. The B.E.F. specialist also paid frequent visits.\nThen one evening, the third or fourth I think, Captain C. came in and\nsat down in the shadow, looking very grave.\nI think it must have been one of the worst half-hours he ever spent. It\nis not a job any man would relish to tell someone who is particularly\nfond of life that they have lost one leg and the other has only just\nbeen saved! I was speechless for some minutes; in fact I refused to\nbelieve it. It took a long time for the full horror of the situation to\ndawn on me. It will seem odd that I did not feel I had lost my leg, but\none never has that sensation even when on crutches; the nerves are\nunfortunately too much alive.\nCaptain C. stayed a long time and the evening drew on but still he sat\nthere and talked to me quietly in the darkness. I wondered why I\ncouldn't cry, but somehow it seemed to have nothing to do with me at\nall. I was not the girl who had lost a leg. It was merely someone else I\nwas hearing about. \"Jolly bad luck on them,\" I thought, \"rotten not to\nbe able to run about any more.\"\nThen my leg jumped and it began to dawn on me that I was the girl to\nwhom those things had happened. Still, I could not cry. Useless to urge\nhow lucky it was my knee had just been saved. What use was a knee, I\nthought bitterly, if I could never fly round again! When was the very\nsoonest I could get about with one of these artificial legs, I asked,\nand he swore to me that if all went well, in a year's time. A year! I\nhad fancied the autumn at latest. Little did I know it would be even\nlonger. That night was the worst I'd had. It is a useless occupation to\nkick against the pricks anyway, and the hours dragged slowly on till\nmorning came at last. When it was light enough I looked round, as well\nas I could at least, lying flat on my back, for something to distract my\nthoughts. Seeing a _Pearson's Magazine_ with George Robey on the cover,\nI drew it towards me and saw there was an article by him inside. Quite\nsure that \"George\" would cheer me up if anyone could I turned the pages\nand found it. It not only cheered me but gave me the first real ray of\nhope. There in print was all Captain C. had told me the night before,\nand somehow, to see a thing in print is doubly convincing. It was on\ndisabled soldiers and the pluck with which they bore their misfortunes.\nThere was one story of two of his friends who walked into his\ndressing-room one day. After dancing about the place they told him they\nwere out of the army.\n\"I don't see much wrong with you,\" said G., eyeing them up and down.\nThey then whacked their legs soundly and never flinched once, for they\neach had an artificial one! I blessed George from the bottom of my\nheart. Someone told him this, and he promptly sat down and wrote to me,\nenclosing several signed postcards and a drawing of himself at the end\nof the letter--his own impression of what he looked like in the\npre-historic scene in _Zigzag_--and a promise of a box for the show as\nsoon as I got to Blighty. Some jolly good fellow!\nThe countless flowers I received were one of the chief joys. I simply\nadored lying and looking at them.\nEvery single person I knew seemed to have remembered me, and boxes of\nchocolates filled my shelf as well.\nThe Parc d'Automobiles Belges sent such a huge _gerbe_ that two men had\nto carry it, and, emblazoned on a broad ribbon of the Belgian colours,\nspanning the whole thing, was my name and an inscription in letters of\ngold! Captain Saxon Davies, from the \"Christol\" in Boulogne, had fruit\nsent over in the boat from Covent Garden delivered at the hospital every\nmorning by motor cycle. I felt quite overwhelmed; everyone seemed\ndetermined to spoil me.\nOne day the Padre had come in to see me and was just concluding a prayer\nwhen there was a tap, and the door opened on the instant. A large\nbottle, the size of a magnum, was pushed in by an orderly, who, seeing\nthe Padre, departed in haste. (I was squinting up through my eyelashes\nand saw it all and just pulled myself together in time to say \"Amen.\")\nI knew who had sent it and hastened to explain: \"It's not champagne,\nPadre, it's Eau de Cologne!\" That surprising sportsman replied: \"Isn't\nit? Bad luck. Have you a scent spray? No? Well, I'll get you one!\" (Some\nPadre!)\nOn the Sunday one of my people came over, thanks to the cheery telegrams\nthe War Office had been dispatching. It seemed an unnecessary fuss--the\nColonel, too, showed distinct signs of \"needle\"--but it was a dear\nlittle Aunt who is never flustered by anything and who greeted me as if\nwe had parted only yesterday. The word \"leg\" was not included in her\ndictionary at all. One is apt to be a bit touchy at first about these\nlittle things, and though I had seen the most terrible wounds in our\nhospital, amputations had always rattled me thoroughly.\nThe little Aunt subsequently entertained the austere A.P.M., while her\npapers were being put in order, with most interesting details of my\nchildhood and how she had brought me up from a baby! The whole interview\nwas described to me as \"utterly priceless,\" by the F.A.N.Y. who had\ntaken her there.\nThe French Battery sent daily to enquire and presently I was allowed\nvisitors. I began to realize after a while that in losing a leg you find\nout exactly who your real friends are. There are those whom I shall\nnever forget who came day after day to read or talk to me--friends who\npaid no attention when the leg gave one of its violent jerks, but went\non talking as if nothing had happened, a fact that helped me to bear it\nmore than all the expressed sympathy in the world. The type who says\n\"Whatever was that? How dreadful!\" fortunately never came. It was only\ndue to those real friends that I was saved from slipping into a slough\nof despond from which I might never have hoped to rise. Eva gave up\nrides and tennis in order to come down every day, and considering the\nlittle time there was to devote to these pastimes I appreciated it all\nthe more.\nTo say I was the best posted person in the place is no exaggeration. I\npositively heard both sides of every question (top and bottom as well\nsometimes) and did my best to make as little scandal as possible!\nI was in a room off the \"Grand Circle\" of the one-time Casino, an\nofficers' ward. One night the Sister had left me for a moment and I\ncould have sworn I saw three Germans enter. I thought they said to me\nthat they had come to hide and if I gave them away they would hit my\nleg. The mere suggestion left me dumb and I distinctly seemed to see\nthem getting under the two other empty beds in the room.\nAfter a few minutes it dawned on me what a traitor I was, and bit by bit\nI eased myself up on my elbows. \"I must go and tell someone these\nGermans are here,\" I thought, and turned back the clothes. After\nthrowing the small sand bags on the floor that kept my bad leg in\nposition, I next seized the cradle and pitched that overboard. I then\ncarefully lifted first one leg round and then the other and sat swaying\non the side of the bed. The splints naturally jutted out some distance\nfrom the end of my one leg and this struck me as being very funny. I\nwondered just how I could walk on them. Then I looked down at the other\nand the proposition seemed funnier still; though I could feel as if the\nleg was there, when I looked there was nothing. It was really extremely\nodd! I sat there for some time cogitating these matters and was just\nabout to try how I could walk when very luckily in came an orderly.\n\"Germans!\" I gasped, pointing to the two beds. I must have looked a\nlittle odd sitting swaying there in a very inadequate \"helpless\" shirt\nbelonging to the hospital! With a muttered exclamation he rushed forward\njust catching me in his arms, and I was back in bed in a twinkling. The\nwhole thing was so clear to me; even now I can fancy I really saw those\nGermans, and the adorable V.A.D., after searching under the beds at my\nrequest, sat with me for the rest of the night. My \"good\" leg was tied\nsecurely down after that episode.\nI was dead and buried (by report) several times that first week in\nhospital and Sergeant Richardson from the Detail Issue Stores, who saw\nwe always had the best rations, came up to see me one afternoon. He was\nso spick and span I hardly recognized him, and in his hand was a large\nbasket of strawberries. The very first basket that had appeared in the\nfruiterers' that year. He sat down and told me how anxious \"the boys\"\nwere to hear how I really was. All sorts of exaggerated rumours had been\nflying about.\nHe related how he had first heard the news on that fatal Wednesday and\nhow \"a bloke\" told him I had been killed outright. \"I knocked 'im down,\"\nsaid the Sergeant with pride, \"and when he comes to me the next morning\nto tell to me you wos still alive, why, I was so pleased I knocked 'im\ndown again!\"\nBad luck on the \"bloke,\" what? I was convulsed, only the trouble was it\nhurt me even to laugh, which was trying.\nHe had been out in Canada before the war as a cowboy and had always\npromised to show me some day how to pick things off the ground when\ngalloping, a pastime we agreed I should now have to forgo. I assured him\nif I couldn't do that, however, I had every intention of riding again.\nHad I not heard that morning of someone who even hunted! I began to\nappreciate the fact that I had my knee.\nCHAPTER XVII\nHOSPITALS: FRANCE AND ENGLAND\nAn old Frenchman came to the hospital every day with the English papers,\nand looked in to leave me the _Mirror_, for which he would never accept\nany payment. He had very few teeth and talked in an indistinct sort of\npatois and insisted on holding long conversations in consequence! He\ntold me he would be _enchant\u00e9_ to bring me some novels _bien choisis par\nma femme_ (well chosen by my wife) one day, and in due course they\narrived--the 1 franc 25 edition.\nThe names in most cases were enough, and the pictures in some a little\nmore! If they were his wife's idea of suitable books for _jeunes filles_\nI wondered vaguely with what exactly the grown-ups diverted themselves!\nI had not the heart to tell him I never read them.\nAll the French people were extraordinarily kind and often came in to see\nme. They never failed to bring a present of some sort either.\nMademoiselle Marguerite, the dear fat old lady who kept the flower shop\nin the Rue, always brought some of her flowers, and looking round would\ndeclare that I was trying to run an opposition to her! Madame from the\n_Pharmacie_ came with a large bottle of scent, the little dressmaker\nbrought some lace. Monsieur and Madame from the \"Omelette Shop\" (a\npopular resort of the F.A.N.Y.s) arrived very hot and smart one Sunday\nafternoon. Monsieur, who was fat, with large rolls at the back of his\nneck, was rather ill at ease and a little panting from the walk\nupstairs. He had the air of a man trying to appear as if he were\nsomewhere else. He tiptoed carefully to the window and had a look at the\n_plage_. \"The bonhomme wished to come and assure himself which of the\n_demoiselles anglaises_ it was, to whom had arrived so terrible a\nthing,\" said Madame, \"but me, I knew. Is it not so, Henri?\" she cried to\nher husband. \"I said it was this one there,\" and she pointed\ntriumphantly to me. As they were going he produced a large bottle of\nBurgundy from a voluminous pocket in his coat tails. \"Ha! _le\nbonhomme!_\" cried the incorrigible wife, \"he would first see which\ndemoiselle it was before he presented the bottle!\" Hubby appeared to be\nslightly discomfited at this and beat a hasty retreat.\nAnd one day \"Alice,\" whose baby I had doctored, arrived, and even she,\ndifficult as she found it to make both ends meet, had not come without\nsomething. As she left she produced a little packet of lace wrapped in\nnewspaper, which she deposited on my bed with tears in her eyes.\nI used to lie awake at nights and wonder about those artificial legs,\njust what they were like, and how much one would be able to cope with\nthem. It was a great pastime! Now that I really know what they _are_\nlike it seems particularly humorous that I thought one would even sleep\nin them. My great idea was to have the whole thing clamped on and keep\nit there, and not tell anyone about it! Little did I know then what a\nrelief it is to get them off. One can only comfort oneself on these\noccasions with the ancient jest that it is \"the first seven years that\nare the worst!\"\nIt is surprising how the illusions about artificial legs get knocked on\nthe head one by one. I discussed it with someone at Roehampton later. I\nthought at least I should have jointed toes! An enterprising French firm\nsent me a booklet about them one day. That really did bring things home\nto me and I cried for the first time.\nMy visitors varied in the social scale from French guttersnipes\n(Jean-Marie, who had been wont to have my old boots, etc.), to\nbrigadier-generals. One afternoon Corporal Coy dropped in to enquire how\nI was. As he remarked cheerfully, \"It would have fair turned me up if\n_you'd_ come round to the mortuary, miss!\"\nHe then settled himself comfortably in the armchair and proceeded to\nentertain me. I only wished it didn't hurt so much to laugh. I asked him\nif he had any new songs, and he accordingly gave me a selection _sotto\nvoce_. He would stop occasionally and say, \"Noa, I can't sing you that\nverse, it's too bad, aye, but it's a pity!\" and shaking his head\nmournfully he would proceed with the next!\nHe was just in the middle of another when the door opened suddenly and\nSir A---- S---- (Inspector-General of Medical Services) was ushered in\nby the Colonel. (The little corporal positively faded out of existence!)\nI might add he was nearly if not quite as entertaining.\n\"Nobby\" Clark, a scion of the Labour Battalion, was another visitor who\ncalled one afternoon, and I got permission for him to come up. He was\none of the local comedians and quite as good as any professional. I\nwould have gone miles to hear him. His famous monologue with his\nimaginary friend \"Linchpin\" invariably brought the house down. He was\nbroad Lancashire and I had had a great idea of taking him off at one of\nthe FANTASTIK Concerts some time, but unfortunately, it was not to be.\nHe came tiptoeing in. \"I thought I might take the liberty of coming to\nenquire after you,\" he said, twisting his cap at the bottom of my bed (I\nhad learnt by this time to keep both hands hidden from sight as a hearty\nshake is a jarring event). I asked him to sit down. \"Bein' as you might\nsay fellow artistes; 'aving appeared so often on the same platform, I\nhad to come,\" he said affably! \"I promised 'the boys' (old labour men of\nabout fifty and sixty years) I'd try and get a glimpse of you,\" he\ncontinued, and he sat there and told me all the funny things he could\nthink of, or rather, they merely bubbled forth naturally.\nThe weather--it was June then--got fearfully hot, and I found life\nirksome to a degree, lying flat on my back unable to move, gazing at the\nwonderful glass candelabra hanging from the middle of the ceiling. How I\nwished each little crystal could tell me a story of what had happened in\nthis room where fortunes had been lost and won! It would have passed the\ntime at least.\nA friend had a periscope made for me, a most ingenious affair, through\nwhich I was able to see people walking on the sands, and above all\nhorses being taken out for exercise in the mornings.\nThe first W.A.A.C.s came out to France about this time, and I watched\nthem with interest through my periscope. I heard that a sand-bagged\ndug-out had also been made for us in camp, and tin hats handed out; a\nwise precaution in view of the bricks and shrapnel that rattled about\nwhen we went out during air raids. I never saw the dug-out of course. We\nhad a mild air-raid one night, but no damage was done.\nMy faithful friends kept me well posted with all the news, and I often\nwonder on looking back if it had not been for them how ever I could have\nborne life. The leg still jumped when I least expected it, and of course\nI was never out of actual pain for a minute.\nOne day, it was June then, the dressings were done at least an hour\nearlier than usual, and the Colonel came in full of importance and\nordered the other two beds to be taken out of the ward. The Sister\ncould get nothing out of him for a long time. All he would say was that\nthe French Governor-General was going to give me the freedom of the\ncity! She knew he was only ragging and got slightly exasperated. At\nlast, as a great secret, he whispered to me that I was going to be\ndecorated with the French _Croix de Guerre_ and silver star. I was\ndumbfounded for some minutes, and then concluded it was another joke and\npaid no more attention. But the room was being rapidly cleared and I was\nmore and more puzzled. He arranged the vases of flowers where he thought\nthey showed to the best advantage, and seemed altogether in extremely\ngood form.\nAt last he became serious and assured us that what he had said was\nperfectly true. The mere thought of such an event happening made me feel\nquite sick and faint, it was so overwhelming.\nThe Colonel offered to bet me a box of chocolates the General would\nembrace me, as is the custom in France on these occasions, and the\nsuggestion only added to my fright!\nAbout 11 o'clock as he had said, General Ditte, the governor of the\ntown, was announced, and in he marched, followed by his two\naides-de-camp in full regalia, the English Base Commandant and Staff\nCaptain, the Colonel of the hospital, the Belgian General and his two\naides-de-camp, as well as some French naval officers and attach\u00e9s. Boss,\nEva, and the Sister were the only women present. The little room seemed\nfull to overflowing, and I wondered if at the supreme moment I would\nfaint or weep or be sick, or do something similarly foolish. The General\nhimself was so moved, however, while he read the \"citation,\" and so were\nall the rest, that that fact alone seemed to lend me courage. He turned\nhalf way through to one of the aides-de-camp, who fumbled about (like\nthe best man at a wedding for the ring!) and finally, from his last\npocket, produced the little green case containing the _Croix de Guerre_.\nThe supreme moment had arrived. The General's fingers trembled as he\nlifted the medal from its case and walked forward to pin it on me.\nInstead of wearing the usual \"helpless\" shirt, I had been put into some\nof the afore-mentioned Paris frillies for the great occasion, and\nsuddenly I saw two long skewer-like prongs, like foreign medals always\nhave, bearing slowly down upon me! \"Heavens,\" I thought, \"I shall be\nharpooned for a certainty!\" Obviously the rest of the room thought so\ntoo, and they all waited expectantly. It was a tense moment--something\nhad to be done and done quickly. An inspiration came to me. Just in the\nnick of time I seized an unembroidered bit firmly between the finger and\nthumb of both hands and held it a safe distance from me for the medal to\nbe fixed; the situation was saved. A sigh of relief (or was it\ndisappointment?) went up as the General returned to finish the citation,\nand contrary to expectation he had not kissed me! He confided to someone\nlater I looked so white he was afraid I might faint. (It was a pity\nabout that box of chocolates, I felt!)\nTwo large tears rolled down his cheeks as he finished, and then came\nforward to shake hands; after that they all followed suit and I held on\nto the bed with the other, for in the fullness of their hearts they gave\na jolly good shake!\nI was tremendously proud of my medal--a plain cross of bronze, with\ncrossed swords behind, made from captured enemy guns, with the silver\nstar glittering on the green and red ribbon above. It all seemed like a\ndream, I could not imagine it really belonged to me.\nI was at the Casino nearly two months before I was sent to England in a\nhospital ship. It was a very sad day for me when I had to say goodbye to\nmy many friends. Johnson and Marshall, the two mechanics, came up the\nday before to bid goodbye, the former bringing a wonderful paper knife\nthat he had been engaged in making for weeks past. A F.A.N.Y button was\nat the end of the handle, and the blade and rivets were composed of\nEnglish, French, and Boche shells, and last, but by no means least, he\nhad \"sweated\" on a ring from one of Susan's plugs! That pleased me more\nthan anything else could have done, and I treasure that paper knife\namong my choicest souvenirs. Nearly all the F.A.N.Y.s came down the\nnight before I left, and I felt I'd have given all I possessed to stay\nwith them, in spite of the hard work and discomfort, so aptly described\nin a parody of one of Rudyard Kipling's poems:\nTHE F.A.N.Y.\n     I wish my mother could see me now with a grease-gun under my car,\n     Filling my differential, ere I start for the camp afar,\n     Atop of a sheet of frozen iron, in cold that'd make you cry.\n     \"Why do we do it?\" you ask. \"Why? We're the F.A.N.Y.\"\n        I used to be in Society--once;\n        Danced, hunted, and flirted--once;\n        Had white hands and complexion--once:\n        Now I'm an F.A.N.Y.\n     That is what we are known as, that is what you must call,\n     If you want \"Officers' Luggage,\" \"Sisters,\" \"Patients\" an' all,\n     \"Details for Burial Duty,\" \"Hospital Stores\" or \"Supply,\"\n     Ring up the ambulance convoy,\n     \"Turn out the F.A.N.Y.\"\n        They used to say we were idling--once;\n        Joy-riding round the battle-field--once;\n        Wasting petrol and carbide--once:\n        Now we're the F.A.N.Y.\n     That is what we are known as; we are the children to blame,\n     For begging the loan of a spare wheel, and fitting a car to the same;\n     We don't even look at a workshop, but the Sergeant comes up with a sigh:\n     \"It's no use denyin' 'em _nothin_'!\n     Give it the F.A.N.Y.\"\n        We used to fancy an air raid--once;\n        Called it a bit of excitement--once;\n        Prided ourselves on our tin-hats once:\n        Now we're the F.A.N.Y.\n     That is what we are known as; we are the girls who have been\n     Over three years at the business; felt it, smelt it and seen.\n     Remarkably quick to the dug-out now, when the Archies rake the sky;\n     Till they want to collect the wounded, then it's\n     \"Out with the F.A.N.Y.\"\n        \"Crank! crank! you Fannies;\n        Stand to your 'buses again;\n        Snatch up the stretchers and blankets,\n        Down to the barge through the rain.\"\n        Up go the 'planes in the dawning;\n        'Phone up the cars to \"Stand by.\"\n        There's many a job with the wounded:\n        \"Forward, the F.A.N.Y.\"\nI dreaded the journey over, and, though the sea for some time past had\nbeen as smooth as glass, quite a storm got up that evening. All the\norderlies who had waited on me came in early next morning to bid\ngoodbye, and Captain C. carried me out of my room and downstairs to the\nhall. I insisted on wearing my F.A.N.Y. cap and tunic to look as if\nnothing was the matter, and once more I was on a stretcher. A bouquet of\nred roses arrived from the French doctor just before I was carried out\nof the hall, so that I left in style! It was an early start, for I was\nto be on board at 7 a.m., before the ship was loaded up from the train.\nEva drove me down in her ambulance and absolutely crawled along, so\nanxious was she to avoid all bumps. One of the sisters came with me and\nwas to cross to Dover as well (since the Boche had not even respected\nhospital ships, sisters only went over with special cases).\nIt struck me as odd that all the trees were out; they were only in bud\nwhen I last saw them.\nMany of the French people we passed waved adieu, and I saw them\nexplaining to their friends in pantomime just what had happened. On the\nway to the ship I lost my leg at least four times over!\nThe French Battery had been told I was leaving, and was out in full\nforce, and I stopped to say goodbye and thank them for all they had done\nand once again wave farewell--so different from the last time! They were\ndeeply moved, and followed with the doctor to the quay where they stood\nin a row wiping their eyes. I almost felt as if I was at my own\nfuneral!\nThe old stretcher-bearers were so anxious not to bump me that they were\nclumsier in their nervousness than I had ever seen them! As I was pulled\nout I saw that many of my friends, English, French, and Belgian, had\ncome down to give me a send off. They stood in absolute silence, and\nagain I felt as if I was at my own funeral. As I was borne down the\ngangway into the ship I could bear it no longer, and pulled off my cap\nand waved it in farewell. It seemed to break the spell, and they all\ncalled out \"Goodbye, good luck!\" as I was borne round the corner out of\nsight to the little cabin allotted me.\nSeveral of them came on board after, which cheered me tremendously. I\nwas very keen to have Eva with me as far as Dover, but, unfortunately,\nofficial permission had been refused. The captain of the ship, however,\nwas a tremendous sportsman and said: \"Of course, if my ship starts and\nyou are carried off by mistake, Miss Money, you can't expect me to put\nback into port again, and _I_ shan't have seen you,\" he added with a\ntwinkle in his eye as he left us. You may be sure Eva was just too late\nto land! He came along when we were under way and feigned intense\nsurprise. As a matter of fact he was tremendously bucked and said since\nhis ship had been painted grey instead of white and he had been given a\ngun he was no longer a \"hospital,\" but a \"wounded transport,\" and\ntherefore was within the letter of the law to take a passenger if he\nwanted to. The cabin was on deck and had been decorated with flowers in\nevery available space. The crossing, as luck would have it, was fairly\nrough, and one by one the vases were pitched out of their stands on to\nthe floor. It was a tremendous comfort to me to have old Eva there. Of\ncourse it leaked out as these things will, and there was even the\nquestion of quite a serious row over it, but as the captain and everyone\nelse responsible had \"positively not seen her,\" there was no one to\nswear she had not overstayed her time and been carried off by mistake!\nAt Dover I had to say goodbye to her, the sister, and the kindly\ncaptain, and very lonely I felt as my stretcher was placed on a trolley\narrangement and I was pushed up to the platform along an asphalt\ngangway. The orderlies kept calling me \"Sir,\" which was amusing. \"Your\nkit is in the front van, sir,\" and catching sight of my face, \"I\nmean--er--Miss, Gor'blimee! well, that's the limit!\" and words failed\nthem.\nI was put into a ward on the train all by myself. I didn't care for that\ntrain much, it stopped and started with such jolts, otherwise it was\nquite comfy, and all the orderlies came in and out on fictitious errands\nto have a look and try and get me anything I wanted. The consequence was\nI had no less than three teas, two lots of strawberries, and a pile of\nbooks and periodicals I could never hope to read! I had had lunch on\nboard when we arrived at one o'clock, before I was taken off. The\nreason the journey took so long was that the loading and unloading of\nstretchers from ship to train is a lengthy job and cannot be hustled. We\ngot to London about five. The E.M.O. was a cheery soul and came and\nshook hands with me, and then, joy of joys, got four stretcher-bearers\nto take me to an ambulance. With four to carry you there is not the\nslightest movement, but with two there is the inevitable up and down\njog; only those who have been through it will know what I mean. I had\ngot Eva to wire to some friends, also to Thompson, the section leader\nwho was on leave, and by dint of Sherlock Holmes stunts they had\ndiscovered at what station I was arriving. It was cheering to see some\nfamiliar faces, but the ambulance only stopped for a moment, and there\nwas no time to say anything.\nAs I was driven out of the station--it was Charing Cross--the old flower\nwomen were loud in their exclamations. \"Why, it's a dear little girl!\"\ncried one, and she bombarded Thompson with questions. (I felt the\ncomplete fool!) \"Bin drivin' the boys, 'as she? Bless 'er,\" and they ran\nafter the car, throwing in whole bunches of roses galore! I could have\nhugged them for it, dear fat old things! They did their bit as much as\nany of them, and never failed to throw their choicest roses to \"the\nboys\" in the ambulances as they were driven slowly past.\nMy troubles, I am sorry to say, began from then onwards. England seemed\nquite unprepared for anything so unorthodox, and the general impression\nborne in on me was that I was a complete nuisance. There was no\nrecognized hospital for \"the likes of us\" to go to, and I was taken to a\ncivilian one where war-work seemed entirely at a discount. I was carried\nto a lift and jerked up to the top floor by a housemaid, when I was put\non a trolley and taken into a ward full of people. A sister came\nforward, but there was no smile on her face and not one word of welcome,\nand I began to feel rather chilled. \"Put the case there,\" she said,\nindicating an empty bed, and the \"case,\" feeling utterly miserable and\ndejected, was deposited! The rattle and noise of that ward was such a\ncontrast to my quiet little room in France (rather humorous this) that I\nwoke with a jump whenever I closed my eyes.\nPresently the matron made her rounds, and very luckily found there was a\nvacant room, and I was taken into it forthwith. There was a notice\npainted on the wall opposite to the effect that the bed was \"given in\nremembrance\" of the late so-and-so of so-and-so--with date and year of\ndeath, etc. I can see it now. If only it had been on the door outside\nfor the benefit of the visitors! It had the result of driving \"the case\"\nalmost to the verge of insanity. I could say the whole thing backwards\nwhen I'd been in the room half an hour, not to mention the number of\nletters and the different words one could make out of it! There was no\nother picture in the room, as the walls were of some concrete stuff, so,\ntry as one would, it was impossible not to look at it. \"Did he die in\nthis bed?\" I asked interestedly of the sister, nodding in the direction\nof the \"In Memoriam.\"--\"I'm sure I don't know,\" said she, eyeing me\nsuspiciously. \"We have enough to do without bothering about things like\nthat,\" and she left the room. I began to feel terribly lonely; how I\nmissed all my friends and the cheerful, jolly orderlies in France! The\nfrowsy housemaid who brought up my meals was anything but inspiring. My\ndear little \"helpless\" shirt was taken away and when I was given a good\nstuff nightdress in its place, I felt my last link with France had gone!\nThe weather--it was July then--got terribly hot, and I lay and\nsweltered. It was some relief to have all bandages removed from my right\nleg.\nThere were mews somewhere in the vicinity, and I could smell the horses\nand even hear them champing in their stalls! I loved that, and would lie\nwith my eyes shut, drinking it in, imagining I was back in the stables\nin far away Cumberland, sitting on the old corn bin listening to Jimmy\nJardine's wonderful tales of how the horses \"came back\" to him in the\nlong ago days of his youth. When they cleaned out the stables I had my\nwindow pulled right up! \"Fair sick it makes me,\" called my neighbour\nfrom the next room, but I was quite happy. Obviously everyone can't be\nsatisfied in this world!\nThe doctor was of the \"bluff and hearty\" species and, on entering the\nfirst morning, had exclaimed, in a hail-fellow-well-met tone, \"So you're\nthe young lady who's had her leg chopped off, are you? ha, ha!\" Hardly\nwhat one might call tactful, what? I withdrew my hand and put it behind\nmy back. In time though we became fairly good friends, but how I longed\nto be back in France again!\nBeing a civilian hospital they were short-staffed. \"Everyone seems mad\non war work,\" said one sister to me peevishly, \"they seem to forget\nthere are civilians to nurse,\" and she flounced out of the room.\nA splendid diversion was caused one day when the Huns came over in full\nforce (thirty to forty Gothas) in a daylight raid. I was delighted! This\nwas something I really _did_ understand. It was topping to hear the guns\nblazing away once more. Everyone in the place seemed to be ringing their\nelectric bells, and, afraid I might miss something, I put my finger on\nmine and held it there. Presently the matron appeared: \"You can't be\ntaken to the cellar,\" she said, \"it's no good being nervous, you're as\nsafe here as anywhere!\" \"It wasn't that,\" I said, \"I wondered if I might\nhave a wheel chair and go along the corridor to see them.\" \"Rubbish,\"\nsaid she, \"I never heard of such a thing,\" and she hurried on to quiet\nthe patient in the next room. But by dint of screwing myself half on to\na chair near the window I did just get a glimpse of the sky and saw\nabout five of the Huns manoeuvring. Good business!\nOne of the things I suffered from most, was visitors whom I had never\nseen in my life before. There would be a tap at the door; enter lady,\nbeautifully dressed and a large smile. The opening sentence was\ninvariably the same. \"You won't know who I am, but I'm Lady L----, Miss\nso-and-so's third cousin. She told me all about you, and I thought I\nreally _must_ come and have a peep.\" Enters and subsides into chair near\nbed smiling sweetly, and in nine cases out of ten jiggles toes against\nit, which jars one excessively. \"You must have suffered _terribly_! I\nhear your leg was absolutely _crushed_! And now tell me all about it!\nMakes you rather sick to talk of it? Fancy that! Conscious all the time,\ndear me! What you must have gone _through_! (Leg gives one of its\njumps.) Whatever was that? Only keeping your knee from getting stiff,\nhow funny! _Lovely_ having the _Croix de Guerre_. Quite makes up for it.\nWhat? Rather have your _leg_. Dear me, how odd! Wonderful what they do\nwith those artificial limbs nowadays. Know a man and really you can't\ntell _which_ is which. (Naturally not, any fool could make a leg the\nshape of the other!) Well, I really _must_ be going. I shall be able to\ntell all my friends I've _seen_ you now and been able to cheer you up a\nlittle. _Poor_ girl! _So_ unfortunate! Terribly cheerful, aren't you?\nDon't seem to mind a bit. Would you kindly ring for the lift? I find\nthese stairs _so trying_. I've enjoyed myself so much. Goodbye.\" Exit\n(goodby-ee). In its way it was amusing at first, but one day I sent for\nthe small porter, Tommy, aged twelve (I had begun to sympathise with\nthe animals in the Zoo). \"Tommy,\" I said, \"if you _dare_ to let anyone\ncome up and see me unless they're _personal_ friends, you won't get that\nshell head I promised you. Don't be put off, make them describe me.\nYou'll be sorry if you don't.\"\nTremendous excitement one day when I went out for my first drive in a\ncar sent from the Transport Department of the Red Cross. Two of the\nnurses came with me, and I was lifted in by the stalwart driver. \"A\nquiet drive round the park, I suppose, Miss?\" he asked. \"No,\" I said\nfirmly, \"down Bond Street and then round and round Piccadilly Circus\nfirst, and then the Row to watch the people riding\" (an extremely\nentertaining pastime). He had been in the Argentine and \"knew a horse if\nhe saw one,\" and no mistake.\nThe next day a huge gilded basket of blue hydrangeas arrived from the\n\"bird\" flower shop in Bond Street, standing at least three feet high,\nthe sole inscription on the card being, \"From the Red Cross driver.\" It\nwas lovely and I was extremely touched; my room for the time being was\ntransformed.\nI was promised a drive once a week, but they were unfortunately\nsuspended as I had an operation on July 31st for the jumping sciatic\nnerve and once more was reduced to lying flat on my back. There was a\nman over the mews who beat his wife regularly twice per week, or else\n_she_ beat him. I could never discover which, and used to lie staring\ninto the darkness listening to the \"sounds of revelry by night,\" not to\nmention the choicest flow of language floating up into the air. I was\nmeasured for a pair of crutches some time later by a lugubrious\nindividual in a long black frock coat looking like an undertaker. I\nobjected to the way he treated me, as if I were already a \"stiff,\"\nignoring me completely, saying to the nurse: \"Kindly put the case\nabsolutely flat and full length,\" whereupon he solemnly produced a tape\nmeasure!\nI was moved to a nursing home for the month of August, as the hospital\nclosed for cleaning, and there, quite forgetting to instruct the people\nabout strangers, I was beset by another one afternoon. A cousin who has\nbeen gassed and shell-shocked had come in to read to me. There was a tap\non the door. \"Mrs. Fierce,\" announced the porter, and in sailed a lady\nwhom I had never seen in my life before. (I want the readers of these\n\"glimpses\" to know that the following conversation is absolutely as it\ntook place and has not been exaggerated or added to in the very least.)\nShe began with the old formula. \"You won't know me, etc., but I'm\nso-and-so.\" She did not pause for breath, but went straight ahead. \"It's\nthe second time I've been to call on you,\" she said, in an aggrieved\nvoice. \"I came three weeks ago when you were at ---- Hospital. You had\n_just_ had an operation and were coming round, and would you believe it,\nthough I had come _all_ the way from West Kensington, they wouldn't let\nme come up and see you--positively _rude_ the boy was at the door.\" (I\nuttered a wordless prayer for Tommy!)\n\"It was very kind of you,\" I murmured, \"but I hardly think you would\nhave liked to see me just then; I wasn't looking my best. Chloroform has\nbecome one of my _b\u00eates noires_.\" \"Oh, I shouldn't have minded,\" said\nthe lady; \"I thought it was so inconsiderate of them not to let me up.\nSo sad for you, you lost your _foot_,\" she chattered on, eyeing the\ncradle with interest. I winked at my cousin, a low habit but excusable\non occasions. We did not enlighten her it was more than the foot. Then I\nwas put through the usual inquisition, except that it was if possible a\nlittle more realistic than usual. \"Did it bleed?\" she asked with gusto.\nI began to enjoy myself (one gets hardened in time). \"Fountains,\" I\nreplied, \"the ground is still discoloured, and though they have dug it\nover several times it's no good--it's like Rizzio's blood at Holyrood,\nthe stain simply won't go away!\" My cousin hastily sneezed. \"How very\ncurious,\" said the lady, \"so interesting to hear all these details\n_first_ hand! Young man,\" and she fixed Eric with her lorgnettes, \"have\n_you_ been wounded--I see _no_ stripe on your arm?\" and she eyed him\nseverely. Now E. has always had a bit of a stammer, but at times it\nbecomes markedly worse. We were both enjoying ourselves tremendously:\n\"N-n-n-no,\" he replied, \"s-s-s-shell s-s-s-shock!\"\n\"Dear me, however did _that_ happen?\" she asked. \"I w-w-was b-b-b-blown\ni-i-i-into t-t-t-the air,\" he replied, smiling sweetly.\n\"How high?\" asked the lady, determined to get to the bottom of it, and\nnot at all sure in her own mind he wasn't a conscientious objector\nmasquerading in uniform. \"As all t-t-the other m-m-men were k-k-killed\nb-b-b-by t-t-t-the same s-s-shell, t-t-there was n-n-no one t-t-there\nt-t-t-to c-c-c-count,\" he replied modestly. (I knew the whole story of\nhow he had been left for two whole days in No-man's-land, with Boche\nshells dropping round the place where he was lying, and could have\nkilled her cheerfully if the whole thing had not been so funny.)\nHaving gleaned more lurid details with which we all too willingly\nsupplied her, she finally departed.\n\"Fierce by name and fierce by nature,\" I said, as the door closed. \"I\nwonder sometimes if those women spend all their time rushing from bed to\nbed asking the men to describe all they've been through--I feel like\nwriting to _John Bull_ about it,\" I added, \"but I don't believe the\naverage person would believe it. Tact seems to be a word unknown in some\nvocabularies.\" The cream of the whole thing was that, not content with\nthe information she had gleaned, when she got downstairs, she asked to\nsee my nurse. The poor thing was having tea at the time, but went\nrunning down in case it was something important.\n\"Will you tell me,\" said Mrs. F. confidentially, \"if that young man is\nengaged to Miss B.?\" (The \"young man,\" I might add, has a very charming\nfianc\u00e9e of his own), and how we all laughed when she came up with the\nnews!\nThe faithful \"Wuzzy\" had been confided to the care of a friend at the\nRemount Camp, and I was delighted to get some snaps of him taken by a\nFrenchman at Neuve-Chapelle--I felt my \"idiot son\" was certainly seeing\nlife! \"In reply to your question\" (said my friend in a letter), \"as to\nwhether I have discovered Wuzzy's particular 'trait' yet, the answer as\nfar as I can make out appears to be 'chickens'!\"\nIn time I began to get about on crutches, and the question next arose\nwhere I was to go and convalesce, and the then strange, but now all too\nfamiliar phrase was first heard. \"If you were only a man, of course it\nwould be _so_ easy.\" As if it was _my_ fault I wasn't? It was no good\nprotesting I had always wished I had been one; it did not help matters\nat all.\nI came to the conclusion there were too many women in England. If I had\nonly been a Boche girl now I might at least have had several Donnington\nHalls put at my disposal! I was finally sent to Brighton, and thanks to\nLady Dudley's kindness, became an out-patient of one of her officers'\nhospitals, but even then it was a nuisance being a girl. Another\ndisadvantage was that all the people treated me as if I was a strange\nanimal from the Zoo; men on crutches had become unfortunately a too\nfamiliar sight, but a F.A.N.Y. was something quite new, and therefore an\nobject to be stared at. Some days I felt quite brazen, but others I went\nout for about five minutes and returned, refusing to move for the rest\nof the day. It would have been quite different if several F.A.N.Y.s had\nbeen in a similar plight, but alone, one gets tired of being gaped at as\na _rara avis_.\nThe race meetings were welcome events and great sport, to which we all\nwent with gusto. I fell down one day on the Parade, getting into my bath\nchair. It gave me quite a jar, but it must be got over some time as a\nlesson, for of course I put out the leg that wasn't there and went smack\non the asphalt! One learns in time to remember these details.\nIt was ripping to see friends from France who ran down for the day, and\nwhen the F.A.N.Y.s came over, how eagerly I listened to all the news!\nThe lines from one of our songs often rang through my brain:\n     \"On the sandy shores of France\n      Looking Blighty-wards to sea,\n      There's a little camp a-sitting\n      And it's all the world to me--\n      For the cars are gently humming,\n      And the 'phone bell's ringing yet,\n      Come up, you British Convoy,\n      Come ye up to Fontinettes--\n      On the road to Fontinettes\n      Where the trains have to be met;\n      Can't you hear the cars a-chunking\n      Through the Rue to Fontinettes?\n     \"On the road to Fontinettes\n      Where the stretcher-bearers sweat,\n      And the cars come up in convoy,\n      From the camp to Fontinettes.\n     \"For 'er uniform is khaki,\n      And 'er little car is green,\n      And 'er name is only FANNY\n      (And she's not exactly clean!)\n      And I see'd 'er first a'smoking\n      Of a ration cigarette.\n      And a'wasting army petrol\n      Cleaning clothes, 'cos she's in debt.\"\n         On the road to Fontinettes, etc.\nI longed to be back so much sometimes that it amounted almost to an\nache! This, and the fact of being the only one, I feel sure partly\naccounted for it that I became ill. According to the doctor I ought to\nhave been in a proper hospital, and then once again the difficulty arose\nof finding one to go to. Boards and committees sat on me figuratively\nand almost literally, too, but could come to no conclusion. Though I\ncould be in a military hospital in France it was somehow not to be\nthought of in England. Finally I heard a W.A.A.C.'s ward had been opened\nin London at a military hospital run by women doctors for Tommies, and I\npromptly sat down and applied for admittance. Yes, I could go there, and\nso at the end of November, I found myself once more back in London. I\nwas in a little room--a W.A.A.C. officers' ward, on the same floor as\nthe medical ward for W.A.A.C. privates. I met them at the concerts that\nwere often given in the recreation room, and they were extremely kind\nto me. I was amused to hear them discussing their length of active\nservice. One who could boast of six months was decidedly the nut of the\nparty! We had a great many air raids, and were made to go down to the\nground floor, which annoyed me intensely. I hated turning out, apart\nfrom the cold; it seemed to be giving in to the Boche to a certain\nextent.\nI loved my charlady. She was the nearest approach to the cheery\norderlies of those far away days in France, I had struck since I came\nover. Her smiling face, as she appeared at the door every morning with\nbroom and coalscuttle, was a tonic in itself. I used to keep her talking\njust as long as I could--she was so exceedingly alive.\n\"Do I mind the air rides, Miss? Lor' bless you no--nothin' I like better\nthan to 'ear the guns bangin' awy. If it wasn't for the childer I'd fair\nenjoy it--we lives up 'hIslington wy, and the first sounds of firing I\nwrep them up, and we all goes to the church cryp and sings 'ims with the\nparson's wife a'plying. Grand it is, almost as good as a revival\nmeeting!\"\n(One in the eye for Fritz what?)\nI asked her, as it was getting near Christmas, if she would let me take\nher two little girls (eight and twelve respectively) to see a children's\nfairy play. She was delighted. They had never been to a theatre at all,\nand were waiting for me one afternoon outside the hospital gates, very\nclean and smiling, and absolutely dancing with excitement. I was of\ncourse on crutches, and as it was a greasy, slippery day, looked about\nfor a taxi. It was hopeless, and without a word the elder child ran off\nto get one. The way she nipped in and out of the traffic was positively\nterrifying, but she returned triumphant in the short space of five\nminutes, and we were soon at the door of the theatre.\nI had to explain that the wicked fairies leaping so realistically from\nPandora's box weren't real at all, but I'm sure I did not convince the\nsmaller one, who was far too shy and excited to utter a word beyond a\nstartled whisper: \"Yes, Miss,\" or \"No, Miss.\" There were wails in the\naudience when the witch appeared, and several small boys near us doubled\nunder their seats in terror, like little rabbits going to earth,\nrefusing to come out again, poor little pets!\nIn the interval the two children watched the orchestra with wide-eyed\ninterest. \"I guess that guy wot's wyving 'is arms abaht like that\n(indicating the conductor) must be getting pretty tired,\" said the elder\nto me. I felt he would have been gratified to know there was someone who\nsympathised!\nAltogether it was a most entertaining afternoon, and when we came out in\nthe dark and rain the eldest again slipped off to get a taxi, dodging\ncabs and horses with the dexterity of an acrobat.\nChristmas came round, and there was tremendous competition between the\ndifferent wards, which vied with each other over the most original\ndecorations.\nAt midday I was asked into the W.A.A.C.'s ward, where we had roast beef\nand plum pudding. The two women doctors who ran the hospital visited\nevery ward and drank a toast after lunch. I don't know what they toasted\nin the men's wards, but in the W.A.A.C.'s it was roughly, \"To the women\nof England, and the W.A.A.C.s who would win the war, etc.\" It seemed too\nbad to leave out the men who were in the trenches, so I drank one\nprivately to them on my own.\nAs I sat in my little ward that night I thought of the happy times we\nhad had last Christmas in the convoy, only a short year before.\nCHAPTER XVIII\nROEHAMPTON: \"BOB\" THE GREY, AND THE ARMISTICE\nAfter Christmas it was thought I was well enough to be fitted with an\nartificial limb, and in due course I applied to the limbless hospital at\nRoehampton. The reply came back in a few days.\n     \"DEAR SIR, (I groaned),\n     \"You must apply to so-and-so and we will then be able to\n     give you a bed in a fortnight's time, etc.\nMy heart sank. I was up against the old question again, and in\ndesperation I wrote back:\n     \"DEAR MADAM,\n     \"My trouble is that I am a girl, etc.\"\nand poured forth all my woes on the subject. Sister D., who proved to be\nan absolute topper, was considerably amused and wrote back most\nsympathetically. She promised to do all she could for me and told the\nsurgeon the whole story, and it was arranged for him to see me and\nadvise what type of leg I had better wear and then decide where I was to\nbe put up later. He was most kind, but I returned from the interview\nconsiderably depressed for, before I could wear an artificial leg,\nanother operation had to be performed. It took place at the military\nhospital in January and I felt I should have to hurry in order to be\n\"doing everything as usual\" by the time the year was up, as Captain C.\nhad promised.\nFor some reason, when I came round I found myself in the big W.A.A.C.s'\nward, and never returned to my little room again. I did not mind the\nchange so much except for the noise and the way the whole room vibrated\nwhenever anyone walked or ran past my bed. They nearly always did the\nlatter, for they were none of them very ill. The building was an old\nworkhouse which had been condemned just before the war, and the floor\nbent and shook at the least step. I found this particularly trying as\nthe incision a good six inches long had been made just behind my knee,\nand naturally, as it rested on a pillow, I felt each vibration.\nThe sheets were hard to the touch and grey in colour even when clean,\nand the rows of scarlet blankets were peculiarly blinding. I realised\nthe meaning of the saying: \"A red rag to a bull,\" and had every sympathy\nwith the animal! (It was so humorous to look at things from a patient's\npoint of view.) It had always been our ambition at Lamarck to have red\ntop blankets on every bed in our wards. \"They make the place look so\nbright and cheerful!\" I daresay these details would have passed\nunnoticed in the ordinary way, but I had already had eight months of\nhospitals, during which time I had hardly ever been out of pain, and all\nI craved was quiet and rest. Some of the women doctors were terribly\nsarcastic.\nWe were awakened at 5 a.m. as per hospital routine (how often I had been\nloth to waken the patients at Lamarck), and most of the W.A.A.C.s got up\nand dressed, the ones who were not well enough remaining in bed. At six\no'clock we had breakfast, and one of them pushed a trolly containing\nslices of bread and mugs of tea from bed to bed. It rattled like a\npantechnicon and shook the whole place, and I hated it out of all\nproportion. The ward was swept as soon as breakfast was over. How I\ndreaded that performance! I lay clenching the sides of the bed in\nexpectation; for as surely as fate the sweeping W.A.A.C. caught her\nbrush firmly in one of the legs. \"Sorry, miss, did it ketch you?\" she\nwould exclaim, \"there, I done it agin; drat this broom!\"\nThere were two other patients in the room who relished the quiet in the\nafternoons when most of the W.A.A.C.s went out on pass. One of them was\na sister from the hospital, and the other a girl suffering from cancer,\nboth curtained off in distant corners. \"Now for a sleep, sister,\" I\nwould call, as the last one departed, but as often as not just as we\nwere dropping off a voice would rouse us, saying: \"Good afternoon, I've\njust come in to play the piano to you for a little,\" and without waiting\nfor a reply a cheerful lady would sit down forthwith and bang away\nvirtuously for an hour!\nWe had had a good many air raids before Christmas and I hoped Fritz\nwould reserve his efforts in that direction till I could go about on\ncrutches again. No such luck, however, for at 10 o'clock one night the\nwarnings rang out. I trusted, as I had had my operations so recently, I\nshould be allowed to remain; but some shrapnel had pierced the roof of\nthe ward in a former raid and everyone had to be taken down willy-nilly.\nI hid under the sheets, making myself as flat as possible in the hopes\nof escaping. I was discovered of course and lifted into a wheel chair\nand taken down in the lift to the Padre's room, where all the W.A.A.C.s\nwere already assembled. Our guns were blazing away quite heartily, the\n\"London front\" having recently been strengthened. Just as I got down,\nthe back wheel of my chair collapsed, which was cheering!\nWe sat there for some time listening to the din. Everyone was feeling\ndistinctly peevish, and not a few slightly \"breezy,\" as it was quite a\nbad raid. I wondered what could be done to liven up the proceedings, and\npresently espied a pile of hymn-books which I solemnly handed out,\nchoosing \"Onward Christian Soldiers\" as the liveliest selection! I could\nnot help wondering what the distant F.A.N.Y.s would have thought of the\neffort. In the middle of \"Greenland's spicy mountains,\" one W.A.A.C.\nvaried the proceedings by throwing a fit, and later on another fainted;\nbeyond that nothing of any moment happened till the firing, punctuated\nby the dropping bombs, became so loud that every other sound was\ndrowned. Some of the W.A.A.C.s were convinced we were all \"for it\" and\nwould be burnt to death, but I assured them as my chair had broken, and\nI had no crutches even if I could use them, I should be burnt to a\ncinder long before any of them! This seemed to comfort them to a certain\nextent. I could tell by the sound of the bombs as they exploded that the\nGothas could not be far away; and then, suddenly, we heard the engines\nquite plainly, and there was a terrific rushing sound I knew only too\nwell. The crash came, but, though the walls rocked and the windows\nrattled in their sockets, they did not fall.\nAbove the din we heard a woman's piercing scream, \"Oh God, I'm burning!\"\nas she ran down the street. Simultaneously the reflection of a red glare\nplayed on the walls opposite. All was confusion outside, and the sound\nof rushing feet pierced by screams from injured women and children\nfilled the air. It was terrible to sit there powerless, unable to do\nanything to help. The hospital had just been missed by a miracle, but\nsome printing offices next door were in flames, and underneath was a\nlarge concrete dug-out holding roughly 150 people. What the total\ncasualties were I never heard. Luckily a ward had just been evacuated\nthat evening and the wounded and dying were brought in immediately. It\nwas horrible to see little children, torn and maimed, being carried past\nour door into the ward. The hum of the Gotha's engines could still be\nheard quite distinctly.\nSparks flew past the windows, but thanks to the firemen who were on the\nspot almost immediately, the fire was got under and did not spread to\nthe hospital.\nIt was a terrible night! How I longed to be able to give the Huns a\ntaste of their own medicine!\nThe \"All clear\" was not sounded till 3 a.m. Many of the injured died\nbefore morning, after all that was humanly possible had been done for\nthem. I heard some days later that a discharged soldier, who had been in\nthe dug-out when the bomb fell, was nearly drowned by the floods of\nwater from the hoses, and was subsequently brought round by artificial\nrespiration. He was heard to exclaim: \"Humph, first they wounds me aht\nin France, then they tries to drown me in a bloomin' air raid!\"\nThere was one W.A.A.C.--Smith we will call her--who could easily have\nmade her fortune on the stage, she was so clever at imitations. She\nwould \"take you off\" to your face and make you laugh in spite of\nyourself. She was an East-ender and witty in the extreme, warm of heart\nbut exceedingly quick-tempered. I liked her tremendously, she was so\nutterly alive and genuine.\nOne night I was awakened from a doze by a tremendous hubbub going on in\nthe ward. Raising myself on an elbow I saw Smith shaking one of the\nW.A.A.C.s, who was hanging on to a bed for support, as a terrier might a\nrat.\n\"You would, would you?\" I heard her exclaim. \"Sy it againe, yer\nwhite-ficed son of a gun yer!\" and she shook her till her teeth\nchattered. I never found out what the \"white-ficed\" one had said, but\nshe showed no signs of repeating the offence. I felt as if I was in the\ngallery at Drury Lane and wanted to shout, \"Go on, 'it 'er,\" but just\nrestrained myself in time!\nA girl orderly was despatched in haste for one of the head doctors, and\nI awaited her arrival with interest, wondering just how she would deal\nwith the situation.\nHowever, the \"Colonel\" apparently thought discretion the better part of\nvalour, and sent the Sergeant-Major--the only man on the staff--to cope\nwith the delinquent. I was fearfully disappointed. Smith checkmated him\nsplendidly by retiring into the bath where she sat soaking for two\nhours. What was the poor man to do? It was getting late, and for all he\nknew she might elect to stay there all night. He knew of no precedent\nand ran in and out of the ward, flapping his arms in a helpless manner.\nI felt Smith had decidedly won the day. Imagine an ordinary private\nbehaving thus!\nThere were sudden periodical evacuations of the ward, and one day I was\ntold my bed would be required for a more urgent case--a large convoy was\nexpected from France and so many beds had to be vacated. Three weeks\nafter my operation I left the hospital and arranged to stay with friends\nin the country. As it was a long railway journey and I was hardly\naccustomed to crutches again, I wanted to stay the night in town.\nHowever, one comes up against some extraordinary types of people. For\nexample, the hotel where my aunt was staying refused to take me in, even\nfor one night, on the score that \"_they_ didn't want any invalids!\" I\ncould not help wondering a little bitterly where these same people would\nhave been but for the many who were now permanent invalids and for those\nothers, as Kipling reminds us, \"whose death has set us free.\" I could\nnot help noticing that at home one either came up against extreme\nsympathy and kindness or else utter callousness--there seemed to be no\nhalf-measures.\nIn March I again hoped to go to Roehampton, but my luck was dead out. I\ncould still bear no pressure on the wretched nerve, and another\noperation was performed almost immediately.\nThe W.A.A.C.s' ward was all very well as an experience, but the noise\nand shaking, not to mention the thought of the broom catching my bed\nregularly every morning, was too much to face again. The surgeon who was\noperating tried to get me into his hospital for officers where there\nwere several single rooms vacant at the time.\nVain hope. Again the familiar phrase rang out, and once more I\napologised for being a female, and was obliged to make arrangements to\nreturn to the private nursing home where I had been in August. The year\nwas up, and here I was still having operations. I was disgusted in the\nextreme.\nWhen I was at last fit to go to Roehampton the question of accommodation\nagain arose. I never felt so sick in all my life I wasn't a\nman--committees and matrons sat and pondered the question. Obviously I\nwas a terrible nuisance and no one wanted to take any responsibility.\nThe mother superior of the Sacred Heart Convent at Roehampton heard of\nit and asked me to stay there. Though I was not of their faith they\nwelcomed me as no one else had done since my return, and I was\nexceedingly happy with them. It was a change to be really wanted\nsomewhere.\nIn time I got fairly hardened to the stares from passers-by, and it was\nno uncommon thing for an absolute stranger to come up and ask, \"Have you\nlost your leg?\" The fact seemed fairly obvious, but still some people\nlike verbal confirmation of everything. One day in Harrod's, just after\nthe 1918 push, one florid but obviously sympathetic lady exclaimed,\n\"Dear me, poor girl, did you lose your leg in the recent push?\" It was\nthen the month of June (some good going to be up on crutches in that\ntime!) Several staff officers were buying things at the same counter and\nturned at her question to hear my reply. \"No, not in this _last_ push,\"\nI said, \"but the one just before,\" and moved on. They appeared to be\nconsiderably amused.\nHow I loathed crutches! One nightmare in which I often indulged was\nthat I found, in spite of having lost my leg, I could really walk in\nsome mysterious way quite well without them. I would set off joyfully,\nand then to my horror suddenly discover my plight and fall smack. I woke\nto find the nerve had been at its old trick again. Sometimes I was\nseized with a panic that when I did get my leg I should not be able to\nuse it, and worse still, never ride again. That did not bear thinking\nof.\nI went to the hospital every day for fittings and at last the day\narrived when I walked along holding on to handrails on each side and\nwatching my \"style\" in a glass at the end of the room for the purpose.\nMy excitement knew no bounds! It was a tedious business at first getting\nit to fit absolutely without paining and took some time. I could hear\nthe men practising walking in the adjoining room to the refrain of the\n\"Broken Doll,\" the words being:\n     \"I only lost my leg a year ago.\n     I've got a 'Rowley,' now, I'd have you know.\n     I soon learnt what pain was, I thought I knew,\n     But now my poor old leg is black, and red, white and blue!\n     The fitter said, 'You're walking very well,'\n     I told him he could take his leg to ----,\n     But they tell me that some day I'll walk right away,\n     By George! and with my Rowley too!\"\nIt was at least comforting to know that in time one would!\nHalf an hour's fitting was enough to make the leg too tender for\nanything more that day, and I discovered to my joy that I was quite\nwell able to drive a small car with one foot. I was lent a sporting\nMorgan tri-car which did more to keep up my spirits than anything else.\nThe side brake was broken and somehow never got repaired, so the one\nfoot had quite an exciting time. It was anything but safe, but it did\nnot matter. One day, driving down the Portsmouth Road with a\nfellow-sufferer, a policeman waved his arms frantically in front of us.\n\"What's happened,\" I asked my friend, \"are we supposed to stop?\" \"I'm\nafraid so,\" he replied, \"I should think we've been caught in a trap.\"\n(One gets into bad habits in France!)\nAs we drew up and the policeman saw the crutches, he said: \"I'm sorry,\nsir, I didn't see your crutches, or I wouldn't have pulled you up.\" The\nfriend, who happened to be wearing his leg, said, \"Oh, they aren't mine,\nthey belong to this lady.\" The good policeman was temporarily\nspeechless. When at last he got his wind he was full of concern. \"You\ndon't say, sir? Well, I _never_ did. Don't you take on, _we_ won't run\nyou in, Miss,\" he added consolingly, turning to me. \"I'll fix the\nstop-watch man.\" I was beginning to enjoy myself immensely. He regarded\nus for some minutes and made a round of the car. \"Well,\" he said at\nlast, \"_I_ call you a couple o' sports!\" We were convulsed!\nAt that moment the stop-watch man hurried up, looking very serious, and\nI watched the expression on his face change to one of concern as the\npoliceman told him the tale.\n\"We won't run you in, not us,\" he declared stoutly, in concert with the\npoliceman.\n\"What were we doing?\" I asked, as he looked at his stop-watch.\n\"Thirty and a fraction over,\" he replied. \"Only thirty!\" I exclaimed, in\na disappointed voice, \"I thought we were doing _at least_ forty!\"\n\"First time anyone's ever said that to _me_, Miss,\" he said; \"it's usual\nfor them to swear it wasn't a mile above twenty!\"\n\"A couple o' sports,\" the policeman murmured again.\n\"I think _you're_ the couple of sports,\" I said laughing.\n\"Well,\" said the stop-watch man, lifting his cap, \"we won't keep you any\nlonger, Miss, a pleasant afternoon to you, and (with a knowing look)\nthere's _nothing_ on the road from here to Cobham!\"\nOf course the Morgan broke all records after that!\nUnfortunately, in July, I was obliged to undergo an operation on my\nright foot, where it had been injured. By great good luck it was\narranged to be done in the sister's sick ward at the hospital. It was\nnot successful though, and at the end of August a second was performed,\nbringing the total up to six, by which time I loathed chloroform more\nthan anything else on earth.\nBefore I returned to the convent again, the King and Queen with Princess\nMary came down to inspect the hospital.\nIt was an imposing picture. The sisters and nurses in their white caps\nand aprons lined the steps of the old red-brick, Georgian House, while\non the lawn six to seven hundred limbless Tommies were grouped, forming\na wonderful picture in their hospital blue against the green.\nI was placed with the officers under the beautiful cedar trees and had a\nsplendid view, while on the left the different limb makers had models of\ntheir legs and arms. The King and Queen were immensely interested and\nwatched several demonstrations, after which they came and shook each one\nof us by hand, speaking a few words. I was immensely struck by the\nKing's voice and its deep resonant qualities. It is wonderful, in view\nof the many thousands he interviews, that to each individual he gives\nthe impression of a real personal interest.\nI soon returned to the convent, and there in the beautiful gardens\ndiligently practised walking with the help of two sticks. The joy of\nbeing able to get about again was such that I could have wept. The\nTommies at the hospital took a tremendous interest in my progress.\n\"Which one is it?\" they would call as I went there each morning. \"Pick\nit up, Miss, pick it up!\" (one trails it at first). The fitter was a man\nof most wonderful patience and absolutely untiring in his efforts to do\nany little thing to ease the fitting. I often wonder he did not brain\nhis more fussy patients with their wooden legs and have done with it!\n\"Got your knee, Miss?\" the men would call sometimes. \"You're lucky.\"\nWhen I saw men who had lost an arm and sometimes both legs, from above\nthe knee too, I realised just how lucky I was. They were all so\nsplendidly cheerful. I knew too well from my own experience what they\nmust have gone through; and again I could only pray that something good\nwould come out of all this untold suffering, and that these men would\nnot be forgotten by a grateful country when peace reigned once more.\nI often watched them playing bowls on the lawn with a marvellous\ndexterity--a one-armed man holding the chair steady for a double\namputation while the latter took his aim.\nI remember seeing a man struggling painfully along with an\nabove-the-knee leg, obviously his first day out. A group of men watched\nhis efforts. \"Pick it up, Charlie!\" they called, \"we'll race you to the\ncedars!\" but Charlie only smiled, not a bit offended, and patiently\ncontinued along the terrace.\nAt last I was officially \"passed out\" by the surgeon, and after eighteen\nmonths was free from hospitals. What a relief! No longer anyone to\nreproach me because I wasn't a man! It was my great wish to go out to\nthe F.A.N.Y.s again when I had got thoroughly accustomed to my leg. I\ntried riding a bicycle, and after falling off once or twice \"coped\"\nquite well, but it was not till November that I had the chance to try a\nhorse. I was down at Broadstairs and soon discovered a job-master and\narranged to go out the next day. I hardly slept at all that night I was\nso excited at the prospect. The horse I had was a grey, rather a\ncoincidence, and not at all unlike my beloved grey in France. Oh the joy\nof being in a saddle again! A lugubrious individual with a bottle nose\n(whom I promptly christened \"Dundreary\" because of his long whiskers)\ncame out with me. He was by way of being a riding master, but for all\nthe attention he paid I might have been alone.\nI suggested finding a place for a canter after we had trotted some\ndistance and things felt all right. I was so excited to find I could\nride again with comparatively little inconvenience I could hardly\nrestrain myself from whooping aloud. I presently infected \"Dundreary,\"\nwho, in his melancholy way, became quite jovial. I rode \"Bob\" every day\nafter that and felt that after all life was worth living again.\nOn November 11th came the news of the armistice. The flags and\nrejoicings in the town seemed to jar somehow. I was glad to be out of\nLondon. A drizzle set in about noon and the waves beat against the\ncliffs in a steady boom not unlike the guns now silent across the water.\nThrough the mist I seemed to see the ghosts of all I knew who had been\nsacrificed in the prime of their youth to the god of war. I saw the\nfaces of the men in the typhoid wards and heard again the groans as the\nwounded and dying were lifted from the ambulance trains on to the\nstretchers. It did not seem a time for loud rejoicings, but rather a\nquiet thankfulness that we had ended on the right side and their lives\nhad not been lost in vain.\nThe words of Robert Nichols' \"Fulfilment,\" from _Ardours and Endurances_\n(Chatto & Windus), rang through my brain. He has kindly given me\npermission to reproduce them:\n     Was there love once? I have forgotten her.\n     Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.\n     Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir\n     More grief, more joy, than love of thee and mine.\n     Faces cheerful, full of whimsical mirth,\n     Lined by the wind, burned by the sun;\n     Bodies enraptured by the abounding earth,\n     As whose children we are brethren: one.\n     And any moment may descend hot death\n     To shatter limbs! pulp, tear, blast\n     Beloved soldiers, who love rough life and breath\n     Not less for dying faithful to the last.\n     O the fading eyes, the grimed face turned bony,\n     Open mouth gushing, fallen head,\n     Lessening pressure of a hand shrunk, clammed, and stony\n     O sudden spasm, release of the dead!\n     Was there love once? I have forgotten her.\n     Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.\n     O loved, living, dying, heroic soldier\n     All, all, my joy, my grief, my love are thine!\nCHAPTER XIX\nAFTER TWO YEARS\nMy dream of going out to work again with the F.A.N.Y.s was never\nrealised. Something always seemed to be going wrong with the leg; but I\nwas determined to try and pay them a visit before they were demobilised.\nOn these occasions the word \"impossible\" must be cut out of one's\nvocabulary (_vide_ Napoleon), and off I set one fine morning. Everything\nseemed strangely unaltered, the same old train down to Folkestone, the\nsame porters there, the same old ship and lifebelts; and when I got to\nBoulogne nearly all the same old faces on the quay to meet the boat! I\nrubbed my eyes. Had I really been away two years or was it only a sort\nof lengthy nightmare? I walked down the gangway and there was the same\nold rogue of a porter in his blue smocking. Yet the town seemed\nstrangely quiet without the incessant marching of feet as the troops\ncame and went. \"We never thought to see _you_ out here again, Miss,\"\nsaid the same man in the transport department at the Hotel Christol!\nI went straight up to the convoy at St. Omer, and had tea in the camp\nfrom which they had been shelled only a year before. This convoy of\nF.A.N.Y.s, to which many of my old friends had been transferred, was\nattached to the 2nd army, and had as its divisional sign a red herring.\nThe explanation being that one day a certain general visited the camp,\nand on leaving said: \"Oh, by the way, are you people 'army'?\"\n\"No,\" replied the F.A.N.Y., \"not exactly.\"\n\"Red Cross then?\"\n\"Well, not exactly. It's like this,\" she explained: \"We work for the Red\nCross and the cars are theirs, but we are attached to the second army;\nwe draw our rations from the army and we're called F.A.N.Y.S.\"\n\"'Pon my soul,\" he cried, \"you're neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, but\nyou're thundering good red herrings!\"\nIt was a foregone conclusion that a red herring should become their sign\nafter that!\nThe next day I was taken over the battlefields through Arcques, where\nthe famous \"Belle\" still manipulates the bridge, and along by the Nieppe\nForest. We could still see the trenches and dug-outs used in the fierce\nfighting there last year. A cemetery in a little clearing by the side of\nthe road, the graves surmounted by plain wooden crosses, was the first\nof many we were to pass. Vieux Berquin, a once pretty little village,\nwas reduced to ruins and the road we followed was pitted with shell\nholes.\nIt was pathetic to see an old man and his wife, bent almost double with\nage and rheumatism, poking about among the ruins of their one-time home,\nin the hope of finding something undestroyed. They were living\ntemporarily in a miserable little shanty roofed in by pieces of\ncorrugated iron, the remains of former Nissen huts and dug-outs.\nIn Neuf Berquin several families were living in new wooden huts the size\nof Armstrongs with cheerful red-tiled roofs, that seemed if possible to\nintensify the utter desolation of the surroundings.\nLusty youths, still in the _bleu horizon_ of the French Army, were busy\ntilling the ground, which they had cleared of bricks and mortar, to make\nvegetable gardens.\nMy chief impression was that France, now that the war was over, had made\nup her mind to set to and get going again just as fast as she possibly\ncould. There was not an idle person to be seen, even the children were\ncollecting bricks and slates.\nI wondered how these families got supplies and, as if in answer to my\nunspoken question, a baker's cart full of fresh brown loaves came\nbumping and jolting down the uneven village street.\nSilhouetted against the sky behind him was the gaunt wall of the\none-time church tower, its windows looking like the empty sockets of a\nskull.\nEstaires was in no better condition, but here the inhabitants had come\nback in numbers and were busy at the work of reconstruction. We passed\n\"Grime Farm\" and \"Taffy Farm\" on the way to Armenti\u00e8res, then through a\nlittle place called Croix du Bac with notices printed on the walls of\nthe village in German. It had once been their second line.\nIn the distance Armenti\u00e8res gave me the impression of being almost\nuntouched, but on closer inspection the terrible part was that only the\nmere shells of the houses were left standing. Bailleul was like a city\nof the dead. I saw no returned inhabitants along its desolate streets.\nThe Mont des Cats was on our left with the famous monastery at its\nsummit where Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria had been tended by the monks\nwhen lying wounded. In return for their kindness he gave orders that the\nmonastery was to be spared, and so it was for some time. But whether he\nrepented of his generosity or not I can't say. It must certainly have\nbeen badly shelled since, as its walls now testify. On our right was\nKemmel with its pill-boxes making irregular bumps against the sky-line.\nOne place was pointed out to me as being the site of a once famous\ntea-garden where a telescope had been installed, for visitors to view\nthe surrounding country.\nWe passed through St. Jans Capelle, Berthen, Boschepe, and so to the\nfrontier into Belgium. The first sight that greeted our eyes was Remy\nsiding, a huge cemetery, one of the largest existing, where rows upon\nrows of wooden crosses stretched as far as the eye could see.\nWe drove to Ypres via Poperinghe and Vlamertinge and saw the famous\n\"Goldfish\" Ch\u00e2teau on our left, which escaped being shelled, and was\nthen gutted by an accidental fire!\nI was surprised to see anything at all of the once beautiful Cloth Hall.\nWe took some snaps of the remains. A lot of discoloured bones were lying\nabout among the _d\u00e9bris_ disinterred from the cemetery by the\nbombardments.\nHeaps of powdered bricks were all that remained of many of the houses.\nThe town gasometer had evidently been blown completely into the air,\nwhat was left of it was perched on its head in a drunken fashion.\nBeyond the gate of the town on the Menin Road stood a large unpainted\nwooden shanty. I wondered what it could be and thought it was possibly a\nY.M.C.A. hut. Imagine my surprise on closer inspection to see painted\nover the door in large black letters \"Ypriana Hotel\"! It had been put up\nby an enterprising _Belge_. Somehow it seemed a desecration to see this\ncheap little building on that sacred spot.\nThe Ypres-Menin Road stretched in front of us as far as the eye could\nsee, disappearing into the horizon. On either hand was No-man's-land. I\nhad seen wrecked villages on the Belgian front in 1915 and was more or\nless accustomed to the sight, but this was different. It was more\nterrible than any ruins I had ever seen. For utter desolation I never\nwant to behold anything worse.\nThe ground was pock-marked with shell-holes and craters. Old tanks lay\nembedded in the mud, their sides pierced by shot and shell, and worst of\nall by far were the trees. Mere skeletons of trees standing gaunt and\njagged, stripped naked of their bark; mute testimony of the horrors they\nhad witnessed. Surely of all the lonely places of the earth this was by\nfar the worst? The ground looked lighter in some places than in others,\nwhere the powdered bricks alone showed where a village had once stood.\nThere were those whose work it was to search for the scattered graves\nand bring them in to one large cemetery. Just beyond \"Hell-fire Corner\"\na padre was conducting a burial service over some such of these where a\ncemetery had been formed. We next passed Birr Cross Roads with\n\"Sanctuary Wood\" on our left. Except that the lifeless trees seemed to\nbe more numerous, nothing was left to indicate a wood had ever been\nthere.\nThe more I saw the more I marvelled to think how the men could exist in\nsuch a place and not go mad, yet we were seeing it under the most ideal\nconditions with the fresh green grass shooting up to cover the ugly\nrents and scars.\nMany of the craters half-filled with water already had duckweed growing.\nWords are inadequate to express the horror and loneliness of that place\nwhich seemed peopled only by the ghosts of those \"Beloved soldiers, who\nlove rough life and breath, not less for dying faithful to the last.\"\nWe drove on to Hooge and turned near Geluvelt, making our way back\nsilently along that historic road which had been kept in repair by gangs\nof workmen whose job it was to fill in the shell holes as fast as they\nwere made.\nAs we wound our way up the steep hill to Cassel with its narrow streets\nand high, Spanish-looking houses, the sun was setting and the country\nlay below us in a wonderful panorama. The cherry-trees bordering the\nsteep hill down the other side stood out like miniature snowstorms\nagainst the blue haze of the evening. We got back to find the Saturday\nevening hop in progress (life still seemed to be formed of paradoxes).\nIt was held in the mess hut, where the bumpy line down the middle of the\nfloor was appropriately called \"Vimy Ridge,\" and the place where the\nshell hole had been further up \"Kennedy Crater.\" The floor was\nexceedingly springy just there, but it takes a good deal to \"cramp the\nstyle\" of a F.A.N.Y., and details of this sort only add to the general\nenjoyment.\nThe next day I went down to the old convoy and saw my beloved \"Susan\"\nagain, apparently not one whit the worse for the valiant war work she\nhad done. Everything looked exactly the same, and to complete the\npicture, as I arrived, I saw two F.A.N.Y.s quietly snaffling some horses\nfor a ride round the camp while their owners remained blissfully\nunconscious in the mess. I felt things were indeed unchanged!\nThat evening I hunted out all my French friends. The old flower lady in\nthe Rue uttered a shriek, dropped her flowers, and embraced me again and\nagain. Then there was the _Pharmacie_ to visit, the paper man, the\npretty flapper, Monsieur and Madame from the \"Omelette\" Shop, and a host\nof others. I also saw the French general. For a moment he was\npuzzled--obviously he \"knew the face but couldn't put a name to it,\"\nthen his eye fell on the ribbon. \"_Mon enfant_,\" was all he said, and\nwithout any warning he opened his arms and I received a smacking kiss on\nboth cheeks! _Quel \u00e9motion!_ Everyone was so delighted, I felt the\nburden of the last two years slipping off my shoulders.\nQuite by chance I was put in my old original \"cue.\" I counted the doors\nup the passage. Yes, it must be the one, there could be no doubt about\nit, and on looking up at the walls I could just discern the shadowy\noutlines of the panthers through a new coating of colour-wash.\nThe hospital where I had been was shut up and empty, and was shortly\ngoing to become a Casino again. How good it was to be back with the\nF.A.N.Y.s! I had just caught them in time, for they were to be\ndemobilised on the following Sunday and I began to realise, now that I\nwas with them again, just how terribly I had missed their gay\ncompanionship.\nIt was a singular and happy coincidence that on the second anniversary\nof the day I lost my leg, I should be cantering over the same fields at\nPeuplinghe where \"Flanders\" had so gallantly pursued \"puss\" that day so\nlong ago, or was it really only yesterday?\n     FRANCE,\n_Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury, England._\n[Transcriber's Notes:\nThe original text had no footnotes. I put markers in where the text was\nchanged in any way.\nVaried hyphenation retained. Obvious spelling and punctuation errors\nrepaired and noted.\n[1] Space introduced in \"everyone\" to read \"every one[1] of those men\" Chapter II page 14\n[2] Period added \"one had done.\" Chapter III page 25\n[3] Position of opening parenthesis on this sentence surmised. Chapter\nVI page 47 \"terms!)\"\n[4] Period added at end of paragraph Chapter VII on page 51 \"patients.\"\n[5] Word changed from \"a\" to \"as\" Chapter VII on page 55 \"he was as[5]\nblack\"\n[6] Typo fixed \"splendily\" to \"splendidly\" Chapter VII page 56 \"behaved\nsplendidly\"\n[7] Extraneous quotation mark removed from \"_Mees anglaises_!\" Chapter VII page 56\n[8] Closing quote added Chapter IX page 78 \"to vous pla\u00eet_,\"[8] they\"\n[9] Typo fixed dep\u00f4t changed to d\u00e9p\u00f4t to match remainder of text Chapter\nIX page 85 \"enlisting d\u00e9p\u00f4t[9] who\"\n[10] Comma changed to a period Chapter X page 90 \"places.[10] Up\"\n[11] F.A.N.Y.work--space introduced to F.A.N.Y. work Chapter X page 108\n[12] Ending quotation mark added. Chapter XI page 122. \"Blighter\"!\"\n[13] Period inserted \"at all.[13] As we\" Chapter XIV page 182", "source_dataset": "gutenberg", "source_dataset_detailed": "gutenberg -  Fanny Goes to War\n"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "Library of Congress, Motion Picture, Broadcasting and Recorded Sound Division", "contributor": "Library of Congress, MBRS, Moving Image Section", "subject": ["motion pictures", "Motion pictures -- Catalogs", "Motion pictures in education"], "title": "1000 and One: The Blue Book of Non-Theatrical Films (1930)", "lccn": "41008703", "collection": ["libraryofcongresspackardcampus", "mediahistory", "fedlink", "library_of_congress", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST000493", "identifier_bib": "0 007 244 819 4", "call_number": "LB1044 .A2 B5", "publisher": "Chicago, Educational Screen", "possible-copyright-status": "Library of Congress has determined that this item is not in copyright", "boxid": "0 007 244 819 4", "other_availability": "http://mediahistoryproject.org", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "4", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2013-11-05 13:43:55", "updatedate": "2013-11-05 14:39:25", "updater": "associate-caitlin-markey@archive.org", "identifier": "1000onethebluebo00unse_1", "uploader": "associate-caitlin-markey@archive.org", "addeddate": "2013-11-05 14:39:27.344862", "scanner": "scribe10.capitolhill.archive.org", "notes": "No table-of-contents pages found.", "repub_seconds": "241", "ppi": "600", "camera": "Canon EOS 5D Mark II", "operator": "associate-lian-kam@archive.org", "scandate": "20131121190744", "republisher": "associate-phillip-gordon@archive.org", "imagecount": "160", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/1000onethebluebo00unse_1", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t0ns35h5z", "date": "1930", "year": "1930", "curation": "[curator]associate-manuel-dennis@archive.org[/curator][date]20131211125638[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]195[/comment]", "scanfee": "100", "sponsordate": "20131231", "volume": "7", "backup_location": "ia905709_14", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:795667635", "description": "29 v. 19-26 cm", "creator": "Educational Screen", "date-start": "1930", "date-string": "1930", "journal-title": "Blue book of audio-visual materials", "republisher_operator": "associate-phillip-gordon@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20131202184155", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "96", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1930, "content": "[The Educational Screen (Seventh Edition)]\n\nHerbert E. Slaught, President, The University of Chicago.\nFrederick J. Lane, Treasurer, Chicago Schools.\nJoseph J. Weber, Valparaiso University.\nDudley Grant Hays, Chicago Schools.\nStanley R. Greene, New York City.\nWilliam R. Duffey, College of St. Thomas, St. Paul.\nNelson L. Greene, Secretary and Editor, Chicago.\n\nEditorial Advisory Board:\nA. W. Abrams, NY State Department of Education.\nRichard Burton, University of Minnesota.\nCarlos E. Cummings, Buffalo Society of Natural Sciences.\nPrank N. Freeman, The University of Chicago.\nDudley Grant Hays, Assistant Sup't. of Schools, Chicago.\nP. Dean McClusky, Scarborough School.\nNelson L. Greene, Editor.\nEvelyn J. Baker.\nMarie E. Goodenough.\nJosephine F. Hoffman.\nRowland Rogers, Columbia University.\n\nStaff:\nMarion F. Lanphier\nF. Dean McClusky\nStella Evelyn Myers\nMarguerite Orndorff\n\nPublications of The Educational Screen\nThe Educational Screen (including Moving Picture Age and Visual Education) is now the only magazine in the field of visual education. Published every month except July and August. Subscription price: $2.00 a year ($3.00 for two years). In Canada: $2.50 ($4.00 for two years). Foreign countries: $3.00 ($5.00 for two years).\n\nComparative Effectiveness of Some Visual Aids in Seventh Grade Instruction.\n[Fundamentals in Visual Instruction by Joseph J. Weber, Ph. D., University of Arkansas - first published work on visual field, 131 pages, $1.50 for non-subscribers, $1.00 for subscribers.\n\nFundamentals in Visual Instruction by William H. Johnson, Ph. D., University of Chicago - manual for teachers, concise and comprehensive survey of the whole question, 104 pages, $2.00 for non-subscribers, $1.33 for subscribers.\n\nPicture Values in Education by Joseph J. Weber, Ph. D., unique study of relative values of stereographs and slides, complete data enabling any school to carry out similar tests, rich in facts, inferences, and deductions invaluable to methodology.]\n[Visual Aids in Education by Joseph J. Weber, 156 pages, $2.00\nComprehensive summary of available scientific evidence on the values and limitations of visual aids\nVisual Aids in Education: A Comprehensive Summary of Scientific Evidence (156 pages, $2.00)\n\nHistorical Charts of Literatures (English, American, French, German)\nSteadily used for the past 16 years by students and general readers everywhere.\nRevised and uniform editions ready.\nSingle copies, 50 cents each. (To subscribers, 37 cents.)\nSpecial offer: one of each of 4 charts, $1.50. (To subscribers, $1.00.)\nDiscounts on quantities on application.\n\n(Seventh Edition)\n\nThe Blue Book of Non-Theatrical Films\nEditors: Nelson L. Greene, Chairman\nEvelyn T. Baker\nJosephine F. Hoffman]\n[Foreword to the Seventh Edition of \"1000 and One Films\" by The Educational Screen, Inc., Chicago, IL, September 1930]\n\nThis is the Seventh Edition of \"1000 and One Films.\" Every known film producer and distributor, whether an individual, firm, or organization, has been consulted directly and repeatedly. Our method of gathering data and information from all these sources has been perfected through the successive editions of \"1000 and One,\" allowing us to confidently offer this Seventh Edition as superior.\n\nNo film was excluded based on its prior appearance in a previous edition. However, due to the increasing mass of material each year, selection became necessary.\n[1000 AND ONE: A Film Guide]\n\nThis publication aims to include all new and worthwhile material, along with films from previous editions that are still most actively circulated, within the necessary space limitations.\n\nUSING \"1000 AND ONE\"\nThis guide uses subject-groups to organize the films. This will direct you to the relevant pages and groups for the subjects you're interested in. Each film is described as follows:\n\nThe title of the film appears in bold type.\nThe number following indicates the number of reels.\nA brief review and comment on the film follow.\nDistributors of each film are indicated by numbers at the extreme right of the last line of description. These numbers refer to the Reference List of Producers and Distributors in the back of the book (pages 129-ff). Numbers with no symbol indicate films available from multiple distributors.\nBefore them indicate distributors supplying film in 35 mm size; \"\u2022\" indicates 16 mm size; A indicates \"sound\" version. Note that 16 mm films are always non-flam. The 35 mm films may be either flam or non-flam, hence distributor should be asked specifically about this point (The note under distributors' entry on pages 129-ff will be helpful).\n\nAdvertisement\n\nDeVry\nWorld fame is us\nPortable (35mm) Projector\nFor long throws in Schools, Churches, Clubs, etc.\nDeVry Model C 16mm Projector\nNew brilliant light gives an 8x10 ft. picture at a distance of 50 feet. A startling value at a new price.\nWrite for literature on extensive DeVry Line:\nDeVry Cinetones (Talkies) .35 and 16 mm.\nDeVry School Films 35 and 16 mm.\nDeVry Movie Cameras 35 and 16 mm.\nAlso Screens, Lenses and Other Accessories.\n\nQ.R.S-DeVry Corporation\n(Established 1900)\n333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago\nFOREWORD\nWe cannot name rental prices for films as they vary endlessly. Please consult the distributor of the particular film. The Educational Screen acts as the central clearing house for information on the whole production field of films, both theatrical and non-theatrical.\n\n\"TREE FILMS\"\nIn the Reference List of Producers and Distributors, we have indicated as far as possible the distributors of \"free\" films \u2013 namely, those to be had for the payment of transportation charges both ways, sometimes with further conditions stipulated.\n\nUniversity Extension Service\nState Universities and Extension Divisions are a very important source of non-theatrical films. Space limitations absolutely forbid the listing of the immense number of films.\nThese Divisions carry out excellent local services, providing full information to film-users within their zone. Since much of this information would be largely useless to the rest of the country, it is omitted here. If you are unfamiliar with the service of your nearest State University, do not hesitate to write for their complete literature.\n\nThe rapid growth in the use of 16 mm. films on non-inflammable stock \u2013 for educational and entertainment subjects for home, school, and church use \u2013 has received careful attention. All distributors handling 16 mm. films, partially or exclusively, are included in the Reference List of Producers and Distributors in the back of this book. Throughout the body of the book, all films available in 16 mm. are indicated by the symbol*.\nIn addition, on pages 97 to 123, a separate list appears (fully classified by subject and with group numbers corresponding to those in the regular classification), giving films available only in the 16 mm. size, with their distributors indicated.\n\nAdvertisements\n\n\"Talkies\"\nWith Your Present Projector\nSimple to Operate\nThoroughly Efficient\nExtremely Portable (One Case)\nAs attached to a 35 mm. Projector\n\nThe Veritone Sound Unit\nCan Be Adapted for Use With Most Any\n16 mm. or 35 mm. Projector\nPrice: Complete $350.00\nAtlas Educational Film Co.\nPioneer Producers of Educational-Industrial Films\n5 North Wabash Ave. Chicago\n\nAmplifier and Loud Speaker\nYour Guide to the Biggest and the Best\nin Current Motion Pictures!\nWrite today for free non-theatrical catalog 77 to the Non-Theatrical Department.\nUniversal Pictures Corporation\n(Carl Laemmle, President)\n730 Fifth Ave. New York City\n[Amce Sound Products Corporation (Reference Number la), Back Cover, For firm-description see page 130, Amkino Corporation (Reference Number 11), For firm-description see page 130, Ampro Corporation (Reference Number 107), Atlas Educational Film Company (Reference Number 15), For firm-description see page 130, Bell and Howell Company (Reference Number 18), For firm-description see page 131, H. S. Brown (Reference Number 21), For firm-description see page 131, Eastman Kodak Co. (Reference Number 147), Back Cover, For firm-description see page 133, Eastman Teaching Films, Inc. (Reference Number 48), For firm-description see page 133, Edited Pictures System, Inc. (Reference Number 49), For firm description see page 133, Electrical Research Products, Inc. (Reference Number 52), For firm-description see page JL33]\nFox Film Corporation (Reference Number 58) 9 (For firm-description see page 134)\nGeneral Electric Co. (Reference Number 61) 57 (For firm-description see page 135)\nHastings Motion Pictures Inc. (Reference Number 67) 79 (For firm-description see page 135)\nHollywood Film Enterprises Inc. (Reference Number 69) ... Ill (For firm-description see page 135)\nIdeal Pictures Corporation (Reference Number 72) 87 (For firm-description see page 135)\nInternational Dental Health Foundation  (Reference Number 75) 71 (For firm-description see page 136)\nKodascope Libraries Inc. (Reference Number 80) 119 (For firm-description see page 136)\nPathe Exchange, Inc. (Reference Number 109) 86 (For firm-description see page 138)\nHenry G. Peabody (Reference Number 111) 41 (For firm-description see page 139)\nQ. R. S.-DeVry Corporation (Reference Number 120), 4 (For firm-description see page 139)\nRadio Mat Slide Company, 44\nRay-Bell Films, Inc. (Reference Number 122), 39 (For firm-description see page 139)\nSociety for Visual Education Inc. (Reference Number 131), 15 (For firm-description see page 140)\nUfa Films, Inc. (Reference Number 144), 67 (For firm-description see page 141)\nUniversal Pictures Corporation (Reference Number 155), 6 (For firm-description see page 142)\nWestern Electric Company (Reference Number 162), 51 (For firm-description see page 144)\nWholesome Films Service, Inc. (Reference Number 164), 33 (For firm-description see page 144)\nY.M.C.A. Motion Picture Bureau (Reference Number 170), 48 (For firm-description see page 144)\n\nAgriculture\nCrops\nLivestock\nPests and Dangers to Rural Life and Farm Engineering, Soils and Soil Conservation, Athletics and Sports (See Physiology, Health and Hygiene), Civics and Patriotism, Domestic Science, Economics, Educational Activities, General Science, Geography, Human Geography, Regional Geography - Africa, Northern Africa, Central and South Africa, Seventh Edition\n\nGeography:\n- Human Geography: 101\n- Regional Geography:\n  - Africa:\n    - Northern Africa: 101\n    - Central and South Africa: 101\n\nAdvertisement:\nFox is ready for your non-theatrical picture needs for:\n- 32 silent feature pictures.\n- 48 dialog feature pictures.\n- 26 one reel silent scenic and travel subjects.\n- 4 one and two reel talking comedies.\n- The Fox Movietone News, talking, two a week.\n\nYes, Fox is ready to serve your individual needs. Ready with some of the greatest and most successful features ever made, including \"The Arizona Kid,\" \"In Old Arizona.\"\n[Arizona, Romance of Rio Grande, and The Great White North. Ready with remarkable teaching aid pictures. Our new catalog of Non-Theatrical pictures is now ready: Fox Film Corporation, 444 West 56th Street, New York City.\n\nAsia:\n31 India and Ceylon - 101\n30\nEurope:\n36 British Isles - 102\n32\n42 Switzerland - 34\n\nNorth America:\n46 Polar Regions - 104\n37\nUnited States:\n48 Central and South - 104\n38\n54 National Parks and Forests - 105\n41\n56 Central America and Mexico - 106\n43 M\n\nIf:\n60 Geology and Meteorology - 108 * 45\n61 Government Activities - 108 46\n\nHealth and Hygiene (See Physiology)\n62 History - 46\n\nHistorical Fiction - 108 48\n\nIndustry and Engineering:\nElectricity - 108 49\n\nTelephone and Telegraph - 108 49]\nFor the new teaching aid, educational talking moving pictures are a tremendous force recognized by prominent educators. To prepare for using this new educational medium, your school should possess the best and standard talking picture equipment. It will enable you to show the educational pictures existing and a large program of those in production. Western Electric can equip your school with machines producing the same fine, tested tone quality now standard in a majority of talking picture theatres. Write for details, interview, and demonstration. It is worth your while to be informed on this important development of education.\n\nElectrical Research Products Inc\n250 West 57th Street, New York City\nDistributors of\nSOUND i|ACT10N(g SYSTEM\nGroup No. Page No. Page NC.\n68 Engineering Achievements 108 50\nManufacturing and Mechanical Devices\n70 Automotive Machinery, 108, 52\n71 Miscellaneous, 109, 52\n72 Power, Mechanical and Electrical, 109, 53\nNatural Products and Processes\n73 Fishing Industry, 109, 53\n74 Lumbering and Forest Products, 109, 54\n77 Quarrying, 56\nManufactured Products and Processes\n78 Building Materials, 110, 56\n79 Clothing, Textiles and Leather, 110, 56\n80 Food Products, 57\n81 Metal Manufacturing, 110, 58\n82 Paper and Publications, 110, 59\n83 Miscellaneous, 110, 59\nIndustrial Arts\n85 Literature and Drama, Ill, 61\nNatural Science\n86 Plant Life, Ill, 63\nAnimal Life\n87 Domestic Animals, 112, 64\n88 Wild Animals, 112, 64\n89 Smaller Animals, 112, 64\n90 Insects and Bugs, 113, 65\n91 Microscopic Life, 113, 66\nBird Life, 114, 67\n95 Fish and Sea Life, 114, 67\n96 Miscellaneous, 114, 6S\nSeventh Edition\n\nAdvertisement\n\nVisual educators endorse Filmo Projectors and Library Films. Filmo Projectors are the choice of educators when buying school equipment. They are guided by Filmo's perfect functioning, long life, and dependability, which result from precision construction unmatched in the field. Powerful direct illumination, accurate silent movement, and simplicity of operation form the foundation of Filmo Projectors' popularity in educational use. Another appreciated feature is the ingenious film movement, which is reversible and may be stopped for still projection at will and which involves no pressure that would scratch or mar the film.\n\nEducators find among Filmo educational library films such outstanding productions as: Ditrnars \"Living Natural History\"; Pillsbury's \"Explorations in Plant and Animal Life.\"\nFlower Life; Tolhurst's Popular Science, Finley's Bird Studies, U. S. Natural Park Series, American Legion War Film, Field and Stream Nature Films, UFA Super-Educational Films (Sound and Silent), Golf and Tennis Teaching Films, also a large selection of feature film comedies, cartoons, travelogues, juveniles, etc.\n\nA Filmo Camera is the key to successful school-made films. Like Filmo Projectors. Filmo Cameras excel in precision and dependability. A complete line of cameras for every purpose, ranging from Filmo 75, the compact pocket model at $120 with case, to the new master of all 16 mm. cameras \u2014 the Filmo 70-D with seven film speeds and three lens turret head at $245 and up, with case.\n\nBell & Howell\nFilmo\nFilmo 57-E Special School Projector, with 250 watt, 5 ampere lamp, fixed resistance, 45 - 50 condenser, geared rewind, large sprocket clamp.\nFilmo 70-D  Camera, price with special school case - $205.\n\nModels: Filmo 70-D Camera.\n\nBell & Howell Co., Dept. T, 1837 Larchmont Ave., Chicago, New York - Hollywood - London (B. & H. Co. Ltd.), Established 1907.\n\nGroup No. Page No. Page No.\n105 Public Hygiene 115 75\n106 Disease and Its Treatment 115 75\n108 Accident Prevention 76\n109 Fire Prevention 115 77\n110 First Aid and Life Saving 77\n111 Medicine and Surgery\nAthletics and Sports\n112 Baseball, Football, Golf 116 78\n115 Camping and Outdoor Sports 116 79\n117 Winter Sports 116 80\n119 Bird Hunting 117 SO\n121 Miscellaneous 117 51\n122 Psychology\nSociology\n126 Social Organizations S2\n127 Insurance and Fraternal Orders 83\nTravel and Transportation\n129 Roads and Road Building 84\n132 Miscellaneous 85\n133 WAR\u2014 Naval and Military 118 85\nEntertainment\nSeventh Edition Advertisement\n\nS. V. E. Educational Motion Pictures have been used by schools everywhere for years, produced by the pioneers in the strictly text film movement. They have formed the nucleus of most film libraries in Extension Divisions of State Universities and large city school systems where permanent film libraries are maintained. Other school systems rent the same subjects year after year as a regular part of their program, a proof of their educational value.\n\nThe S. V. E. Library of SCHOOLFILMS Offers:\n- Prompt National Service\n- Wide Selection\n- Low Rental Rates\n\nSubjects one and two reels in length cover:\n- Geography\n- History\nAll S.V.E. Schoolfilms are available in 16 mm width. Contact us for rental or outright purchase information. Our reference number is 143. The Ideal Class Room Aid. Picturol Projectors and Films are economical, convenient, compact, and effective. Hundreds of subjects are available, many more in preparation. All regular school subjects are covered. Free Picturols available to all users of film stereopticons of any type. Picturols save teachers' time and keep classroom interest high.\n\nA Complete Visual Service\nWrite for catalogs and free copy of the 1930 Visual Review\nSociety for Visual Education, Inc.\nDepartment of Manufacturers, Producers and Distributors of Visual Aids\n327 South LaSalle Street\nChicago, Illinois\nGROUP 1 CROPS Cotton\nCotton: Comprehensive story, from field to factory (\u202258)\nThe Land of Cotton: Complete story of cotton, emphasizing milling and weaving. Good for teaching purposes. (\u202261)\nThe Story of Cotton: Growth and manufacture \u2014 carding, spinning and weaving in detail. (128, 170)\nJohn Doe's Cotton \u2014 and Yours: Emphasizing the desirability of planting selected cottonseed. Particularly for cotton growers. (150)\nCooperative Marketing \u2014 Cotton: Showing progress of grower's bale from gin to mill, on to seaboard for export. (150)\nNew Method of Harvesting Cotton \u2014 Sledding (y2)\nThe \"sledding\" method as developed by Texas cotton farmers. (150)\n\nGROUP 2 Sugar\nSugar: Complete story of cane and beet sugar; methods of production (1)\nCuba: The Island of Sugar (2) World's largest achievement in raising sugar cane - forest transformed into plantation. (#61)\n\nSugar Growing in the West Indies (%) Sugar cane and cane sugar - culture and harvesting in South America; various stages in manufacture and refinement. (#20, 150)\n\nSugar Cane and Cane Sugar (1) From tree to table; old-fashioned and modern methods. Green Mountains of Vermont. (114, 164)\n\nHarvest of the Sugar Maple (1) Life in the sugar bush, showing old and new methods of tapping trees, gathering and boiling sap. (170)\n\nMaple Sugar (1) Complete process of gathering and making sugar; a sugar camp in the Adirondacks. (164)\n\nThe Sugar Trail (1) Production from beets. (\u00ab61)\n\nBeets from Seed to Sugar Bowl (1) Culture of sugar beets; various stages in cultivation and refinement. (#61, 1)\nsteps in manufacture of beet sugar in modern factory. (1) The Despotic Dictator (2) Dramatic story bringing out unfairness of regulation against use of corn sugar in certain food products. (150)\n\nGroup 3: Wheat\nBread (1) Complete story from wheat ranch to loaf of bread. (58)\nOur Daily Bread (1) Development of methods for harvesting, milling and baking from primitive to modern times. (Gl)\nThe Staff of Life (1) Growing of wheat, harvesting, threshing and cleaning at thresher. (ISO)\n\nGroup 4: Fruits and Nuts\nFruits (1) From orchards and fields to canneries and fruit stores. (58)\nThe Kindly Fruits of the Earth (1) Survey of cultivation, picking, packing and shipment of important fruits. (109)\nThe Land of Cherries: Largest cherry orchard in the world. Cultivation of Banana Land: Banana cultivation in Central America. (29, 114, 164) Citrus Fruit in Florida: Approved methods of grove management and handling orange and grapefruit crops. (150) The Golden Orange: Colored pictures of the orange industry, showing briefly the romantic history of the orange and its various uses. Oranges and How to Use Them: Preparation and service of orange dishes; orange grove and packing scenes. (36, 42, 114) The Story of the Orange: From cultivation in groves of California to arrival in the market. (81) The Power Behind the Orange: Modern power farming in orange groves. Cultivation and preparation for market. (33, 76, 170) The Indispensable Lemon: Growing and various uses. (1)\n\nAgriculture GROUP 4 (Continued) Fruits and Nuts\nRomance of a Lemon: Cultivation and marketing of oranges and lemons (42, 92). Profits from Cull Oranges and Lemons: Research work to develop uses for culls; establishment of by-products plants (150). Cranberries: Culture and prevention of rot making berries bitter (150). The Cranberry Industry of Cape Cod: Cultivation, harvesting, and marketing (164). Oahu: Pineapple industry of the island. Prizma color (28, 133, 164). Dates: America's New Fruit Crop. Methods of date culture and insect control in the Southwest (150). Fruits of Adventure: Prune industry (36, 114). Persimmon: Harvesting and Storage in China. Method of winter storage (150). Take Care of Your Orchard: Pruning and mulching to make old orchards profitable (33, 76).\nJohn Smith vs. Jack Frost (2) Orchard heating; frost protection in citrus groves\n\nGroup 5 Miscellaneous\nVegetables (1) From fields to canneries and stores. (*58)\nFour Men and the Soy Bean (2) Cultivation and utilization of soy beans.\nSoybeans (1) Best methods of growing and handling. (33, 76)\nGrowing the Corn Crop (1) Preparing soil and planting; labor-saving methods of cultivating. (33, 76)\nHarvesting the Corn Crop (1) Contrasts harvesting by hand and by machinery. (33, 76)\nGather Seed Corn Early (1) Best and worst time for gathering seed corn; detecting diseased corn; where to store. (33, 76)\nSeed Corn Secrets (1) A farmer learns the best kind of seed corn.\nAlfalfa (1) Getting a good seed bed; planting seed; mowing alfalfa; curing and storing crop; baling of hay. (33, 76)\nMaking Hay Time Playtime (2) Best methods of harvesting alfalfa.\nGrain Grading (2) Methods of inspecting and grading grain. (150)\nMagic of the Mountains (2) Travelogue throughout coffee producing regions of South America; cultivating, milling and exporting. (#170)\nSchool Days (1) Raising, picking and roasting of coffee. (170, 33)\nBrazil's Gift (1) Brazil's coffee plantations. (29, 36, 114, 164)\nPedigreed Potatoes (1) Production of irrigated potatoes in Colorado.\nThe How and Why of Spuds (1) From producer to consumer; commercial production as practiced with modern methods and machinery. (150)\nPotatoes - Early and Late (1) Methods of growing and harvesting. (150)\nRice (1) Complete story of rice; methods of production. (\u202258)\nRice from \"Paddy\" to Bowl (1) Handling the rice crop; how to minimize damage and waste. Scenes of lower Mississippi Valley. (150)\nGuayule Rubber (2) Cultivation of the guayule shrub in California; cells yield rubber particles when crushed. Shows how American farmers can produce rubber with modern machinery and less labor. (157)\n\nConquering the Jungle (1) Transforming the wilds of Sumatra into modern rubber plantations. (*63)\n\nThe Romance of Rubber (2) Advanced methods in growing and tending rubber. Rubber Industry of British Guiana (1) Primitive and modern methods.\n\nThe History of Spice (1) Important part played by spices in development of trade routes and discovery of new continents. (81)\n\nOpportunity (2) Utilization of home-grown crops on the farm. (158)\n\nAGRICULTURE\nGROUP 6 LIVESTOCK Cattle\n\nThe Beefsteak Bequest (1) Story of Sni-a-Bar Ranch and experiments. (150)\n\nGuayule Rubber: In California, farmers cultivate the guayule shrub, which produces rubber particles when crushed. This demonstrates how modern machinery can help American farmers produce rubber with less labor. (157)\n\nConquering the Jungle: The wilds of Sumatra have been transformed into modern rubber plantations. (63)\n\nThe Romance of Rubber: Advanced methods are used in growing and tending rubber. The rubber industry in British Guiana employs both primitive and modern techniques. (1)\n\nThe History of Spice: Spices played an important role in the development of trade routes and the discovery of new continents. (81)\n\nOpportunity: Home-grown crops can be utilized on the farm. (158)\n\nAGRICULTURE\nGROUP 6 LIVESTOCK\nCattle: The Beefsteak Bequest tells the story of Sni-a-Bar Ranch and related experiments. (150)\nTo determine benefits of using pure-bred sires in beef cattle production. The Cow Business: Beef-cattle industry in western United States, contrasting methods of early cowmen with present practice. Guarding Livestock Health: Care of animals in transit, in the stock-yards. On a Thousand Hills: How to save range pasture by deferred and rotation grazing. Plenty of Beef on Orinoco: Visit to a cattle ranch on banks of Orinoco. The Purple Ribbon: Story of a little calf that became the World's Champion steer.\n\nGROUP 7 Meat Products\nMeat: Story of beef, lamb and pork. Scenes on ranch, stockyard, packing-house and meat store. (*58)\nThe Honor of the Little Purple Stamp: How meat-inspection service protects American tables from diseased meat. (150)\nLamb and Mutton for Home Use: Close-ups of various operations. (1)\nFrom the skinning of animal to the final preparation of meat for use:\n\n1. Lamb: More Than Legs and Chops (2)\nThe butcher makes retail cuts from all parts of lamb. (150)\n\n2. Meat Packing (1)\nMaking and packing of sausages. (164)\nThe Making of a Star Ham (1)\nMethods of slaughtering; sanitary conditions in plants; rigid inspection of hams. (13, 128)\n\n3. A Day with Esskay (2)\nFrom cattle on plains to the largest packing plant. (1)\nMeat\u2014From Hoof to Market (1)\nRaising of beef cattle and hogs for food; shipping and marketing. (109)\n\nGroup 8: Dairy Products\n\n1. Blood Will Tell (1)\nHow a better dairy sire's campaign was conducted.\n\n2. The Making of a Good Cow (1)\nGood breeding and careful feeding; various breeds of dairy cattle. (33, 76)\n\n3. Just Pals (1)\nStory of various animals used for dairy purposes all over.\n\n4. Milk (1)\nModern sanitary methods of stabling, feeding, milking and pasteurizing. (#58)\nMilk: Values and profitable production. (33, 76)\nBetter Milk: Cow to consumer production. (#49, 35)\nHighland Lassie: Dairy cow work and expense in production and distribution. (#100)\nDairy Products: Sources, handling, and shipping of milk. Manufacture and packing of cheese and butter in large factories. (109)\nGreater Profit from Milk: Milk separation; products made from cream; uses for skim milk. (33, 76)\nThe Turn in the Road: A farmer's successful transition from unprofitable dairying. (#100)\nChurning Butter: Scientific methods of manufacturing and packing butter. (164)\nSwiss Cheese - Made in America: Methods used at Grove City (Pa.) creamery. (150)\nWeighed in the Balance: An argument for cow-testing work. (150)\nGroup 9: Poultry.\nBrooding Chickens: Up-to-date procedure in handling chicks in a brooder house. (150)\nBusiness Management of Business Hens: Visit to a modern poultry farm; how to separate cockerels from pullets. (33, 76)\nEarly Care of Baby Chicks: Proper care and feeding. (150)\nSeventh Edition\nAgriculture\nIS\nGroup 9 (Continued) Poultry\nLeave It to Ma: Story of an old couple's struggle for success through scientific poultry raising. (6)\nLively Chicks: Hatching and shipping baby chicks the modern way. (1)\nPatricia's Disappearance: Story of a society girl making good on a farm raising poultry scientifically. (6)\nProducing Paying Pullets: From hatchery to laying hen; methods of breeding, care of chicks and shipping them. (33, 76)\nProducing Quality Chicks: Up-to-date hatchery safeguards its output by careful choice of breeding stock and attention to sanitation. (150)\nSelecting a Laying Hen (1) Physical characteristics by which the good egg producer can be recognized.\nGroup 10 Miscellaneous\nThe Barnyard Underworld (1) Whys and wherefores of barnyard sanitation.\nBee Culture (1) Shows every phase of the industry.\nHoney Makers (1) Life story of bees and their work. Close-ups of workers at their various tasks.\nThe Busy Bee (*4) Scientific method of handling.\nFollowing the Bee Line (1) How Tennessee mountaineers find and produce wild honey, and other methods of handling bees.\nThe Golden Fleece (1) Handling, grading and cooperative selling of Sheep \u2014 Some Leading Breeds\nCharacteristics of wool, mutton, and wool-mutton breeds.\nSheep for Mutton, Wool and Money (1) Points to be observed on the raising, feeding and care of sheep.\nCharacteristics of wool, mutton, and wool-mutton breeds.\nThe Woolly West: Advantages of Approved Methods in Range Sheep Management. (150)\nHealth, Happiness and Hogs: Complete Story of Hog Sanitation. (2)\nHogs for Pork and Profit: Proper Feeding and Care during Winter. (1)\nHog Health Makes Hog Wealth: Methods of Preventing Disease. (1)\nValley Gold: Story Stresses Modern Methods of Successful Hog Raising. (2)\nLivestock on the Irrigation Projects: Domestic Animals, Poultry and Bees on the Irrigation Projects. (149)\nHow to Handle Foxes: Approved Methods of Catching and Holding as Practiced on Fox Farms. (150)\nFur Farming in Alaska: The Fur Farming Industry \u2014 Foxes, Mink and Martin. (59)\nGROUP 11: PESTS AND DANGERS to Animals\nT.B. or Not T.B.: Fowl Tuberculosis and Methods of Combat. (150)\nClean Herds \u2013 and Hearts: Campaign for the Eradication of Animal Tuberculosis; Its Relation to Human Health. (150)\nHorn Flies - Pests of Cattle: Preventing Breeding and Reducing Harm (150)\nMollie of Pine Grove: Vat - Tick Eradication Work (3)\nScrew Worms: Fighting Them Successfully in Southwestern States (150)\nStable Flies and Their Control: Protecting Animals and Preventing Breeding (150)\nSettled Out of Court: Boys' 4-H Pig Club and Eradication of Intestinal Parasites in Hogs (6)\nThis Little Pig Stayed Home: Controlling Hog Cholera (150)\n\nAgriculture\nGROUP 12 PESTS AND DANGERS to Plants\nMillion Dollar Pockets: The Pocket Gopher, Its Habits, Damage to Alfalfa Crop and Methods of Control (150)\nBeans or Beetles? (1) Menace of Mexican bean beetle and methods of controlling damage by it. (150)\nFighting Western Pine Beetles (1) How pine beetles destroy valuable stands of timber, but may be controlled. (150)\nThe Pines (2) Control of white pine blister rust. (150)\nGrowing Corn in Spite of Borers (2) How to eradicate corn borers by proper preparation of soil. (57)\nThe Corn Borer and What to Do About It (2) Life history of European corn borer and methods for control. (150)\nCotton's Worst Enemy \u2014 the Pink Bollworm (1) The cleanup of infested acres \u2014 sweeping of fields and burning of plants; fumigation. (150)\nHow to Poison Boll Weevils (1) Proper methods of poisoning cotton to control boll weevil. (150)\nThe Eastern Woodchuck and Its Control (2) Showing damage done and best methods of exterminating the pest. (150)\nExplosive Dusts: Means of preventing grain-dust explosions in mills and elevators. (150)\nGipsy and Brown-Tail Moths: Life History (1) - Life cycle of moths and record of their spread in the United States. (150)\nGipsy and Brown-Tail Moths: Control Methods (1) - Man's fight to prevent spread: spraying, dusting and other measures. (150)\nHoppers: Methods of control. (150)\nA Plant Disease and How It Spreads (1) - Study of rhubarb blight. (150)\nRust (2) - How black stem rust affects crops and communities - eradication of barberry to prevent rust epidemics. (*150)\nWhose Property (1) - The invisible army of destructive parasites and insects attacking our trees, flowers, etc. (#170)\nWinged Warfare (2) - Shows the methods followed in commercial dusting of cotton by airplane for control of boll weevil. (150)\nRural Life and Farm Engineering (Group 13)\nThe Barrier (2) Story opens in African jungle - shows need of adequate roads for American farmers. (6)\nBuilders of an Empire (2) Historical picture showing western movement of agriculture. (6)\nClearing Land (2) Methods of removing stumps. (150)\nThe Club, College, Farm and Home (1) Short course for farm boy and girl. Relationship of agricultural education to practical farming. (150)\nThe Combine Harvester (4) Evolution of grain harvesting; types of combines in operation. Slow and normal motion during threshing. (33)\nCooperative Marketing in the United States (2) General survey; extent of business done by different organizations. (150)\nCooperative Marketing \u2013 Livestock (2) Methods followed by farmers' cooperative organizations in handling sales of livestock. (150)\nA Crop Worth Saving (4) Shows process of organization of 4-H clubs and their various activities. (150)\n\n(Note: The text appears to be mostly clean, with only minor formatting issues. No major corrections or translations were necessary.)\nA Day's Work Well Done: Owner of a dilapidated farm profits from a visit to a well-kept, up-to-date farm. (33) The Farm that Jack Built: Use of dynamite on farm. (#68, 6) From Forests to Fa-ms: Clearing of cut-over areas in northwestern states. Use of dynamite for stumping and drainage work. (46) Farming with Farmalls: Various operations performed by the Farmall, row crop tractor. (33, 76) Flames, the Red Robber: Story stressing need of adequate fire protection on farms. (6) Green Valley: Drainage picture. (158) Home Builders: Illustrates the advantages and economy of tractor farming over horse farming. (33, 76, 170) Home is What You Make It: Transformation of an old farm home by inexpensive repairs, painting and landscaping. (#150)\n\nSymbols and reference numbers are explained on page 3.\n\nSeventh Edition AGRICULTURE 21.\nThe Horseless Farm (2) The farm being operated entirely without horses. How About a Combine? (1) Comparison of a combined harvester and thresher with a binder. The Husker-Shredder (1) Mechanism and operation details, showing corn husking and stalk preparation for feed. Jerry, the White Hussar (2) Story of a farm lad who gained fame and honor, using his talent for community service. Late and Lazy (1) Story of a farm boy's bad example and how his latent ambition was stirred into action through proper counsel. Magic Wand (2) Historical collection showing the evolution of farm machinery. The Master Farmer (2) Goal of good farming, exemplified by achievements of real \"Master Farmers.\" Mother Takes a Vacation (2) Activities of Farm Women's Vacation.\nCamps conducted by State Extension Services in the West. (150)\nNameless: Encourages planting of home orchards as a farm health measure. (6)\nNature Lovers Rambles: Aspects of refreshing farm life. (49, 35, 54)\nNew Ideas in Husking: Corn husking contests. (158)\nOnce Over and It's All Over: What the harvester-thresher accomplishes. (33, 76)\nOut of the Storm: Shows need of first aid knowledge and equipment on the farm. In story form. (6)\nPower Farming in the South: Work on a modern plantation in the Mississippi-Delta region. (33, 76, 170)\nPower Farming in the Northwest: Shows the tractor working on farms in the Northwest. (33, 76)\nPower in the Farm Home: Labor-saving devices which drive drudgery from the farm home. (33, 76)\nThe Do-All: In operation on the various jobs adapted to this new plowing-cultivator tractor. (33)\nThey call it Rest Story: How the telephone can be used profitably on a farm. The Thresher: Principles of grain threshing, mechanism and operation in detail in slow and normal motion during harvesting. Time Message: Farm management. Times Do Change: Advantages of cooperative organizations in rural tractor farming. The Transformation: Why farm boys and girls leave home. Tuning in With the Times: An organization film with a 4-H Club message. The Yoke of the Past: A pictorial record of a century of progress in agriculture. Implements of the past contrasted with machinery.\n\nForestry and Forest Conservation Group 14\n\nEnemies of the Southern Pine: Destructive agencies which attack this valuable timber. Studies in wood preservation.\nForest Fire: Outlines the system followed by Forest Service in locating and fighting forest fires.\nThe Forest and Health: How the forest ministers to the spiritual and physical health of mankind.\nThe Forest and Waters: Points out the vital influence the forest has on water supply.\nThe Forest and Wealth: Forest's contribution to industry and the comfort and wealth of mankind.\nForest Resources: One of the series - The United States a Ten Talent Friends of Man: Story picture designed to discourage the practice of \"burning off.\"\nFind distributors by reference-numbers (pages 129-ff.)\nAgriculture\nGROUP 14 (Continued): Forestry and Forest Conservation\nFuture Forest Giants: Reforestation on the national forests, from the planting of the seed to mature timber crop. (pages 150, 164)\nHarvesting Uncle Sam's Timber (2): Disposal of Mature Timber in National Forests; Logging Operations Supervised by Forest Service.\n1150 Marking Timber (2): Fundamentals of Timber Marking.\n1150 New Woods for Old: Shows how a farm woodland of eastern hardwood should be handled as a crop.\nPines for Profit: Reforestation in Coastal Plain Areas; How to Get Seed: Nursery Practices and Planting of Young Trees.\nPines That Come Back: How timber will give a profitable return on farm lands not suitable for field crops; Uses of Timber.\nRed Enemy (1): How our forests are preserved in spite of the careless. That Brush Fire.\nTechnical instruction in brush burning \u2014 designed to protect woods from damage through carelessness.\nTrees of Righteousness (3): Shows the evils of \"woods burning,\" particularly in the Ozark region.\nWhat the Forest Means to You (2.1) - Demonstrates the dependence of mankind on the forest. (150)\nWood Wisdom (1.15) - Structure of various kinds of wood. (150)\nGroup 15 - Soils and Soil Conservation\nAnchored Acres - Soil erosion damage and approved practices for overcoming it: dams, terracing, and crop rotation. (150)\nFertilizer From Coal (3) - Processes whereby fertilizer is made from coal and benefits from its application to soil. (128)\nFarm for Sale (1) - A limestone picture. (158)\nGermination of the Harvest (I.1) - Germination of various seeds with their various speeds of development. (114, 164)\nThe Legacy (2) - Land clearing and crop rotation. (46, 158)\nSaving the Soil by Terracing (1.11) - Constructing terraces to prevent washing away of fertile top soils; forms of erosion. (150)\nTen Years of Limestone (1) - The story of a farmer's soil-building experiences. (158)\nArgument for Judicious Use of Fertilizers in Maintaining Fine Soils for Maximum Yield. (77)\n(See also Groups 51, 52)\n\nGroup 16: Irrigation\nConstruction and Economic Results\nConstruction scenes on Federal projects and economic development. (149 1)\nCrops and Kilowatts: Water power and irrigation uses of water conserved in the national forests. I 150\nGarden of Allah, Salt River Project: Reclamation or arid land by irrigation. (149 1)\nIrrigation: Utilization of natural reservoirs for distribution of waters to parched lands. (49, 164)\nLower Yellowstone Project: Irrigation views. (149 1)\nThe Roosevelt Dam: Converting the arid desert into fertile farms. Settlement on Federal Reclamation Projects 2: Difficulties met by settlers and results that may be obtained on irrigated land. 1 149 i\nSouthern Reclamation (2%) Preparation of land, crops and livestock. Storage and Diversion Dams (3) Construction of dams for irrigation of arid land.\nArt, Music and Architecture\nART, MUSIC AND ARCHITECTURE\nGroup 17\nAn Ancient Art (1) Modeling in wax. (A* 18, A* 144)\nArt Treasures of Soviet Russia (1) Art collections in the most important museums of the U.S.S.R. (11)\nBattle Cry of Freedom (1) Adaptation of the patriotic song. (164)\nBashful Suitor (2) From the painting of Josef Israels, telling how the artist came to paint this masterpiece. (164)\nBehind the Scenes in the Metropolitan Museum (2) Shows workshops.\nCarmen: Condensed portrayal of the opera. Drypoint \u2013 A Demonstration: Filmed in the workshop of drypoint etcher Frederick G. Hall, demonstrating the processes. The Etcher's Art: From the earliest masters to present. Frank W. Benson demonstrates the complete process of making etching. Famous Melody Series: Charming screen stories based on songs of many lands; produced in native settings and costumes. Songs of Ireland, Scotland, England, Northern States, Central Europe, Spain, France, Italy. (56)\n\nFamous Music Master Series: Each reel an incident from life of a great composer. (18 in series, 1 each)\n\nFirearms of Our Forefathers: Main steps in development of firearms; manual of arms of musketeer demonstrated in costume. (\u00a991)\nFrom Three Steps: Turning a shapeless lump of clay into a bronze image. (157)\nThe Gorgon's Head: The story of Perseus comes to life from Greek vase figures. (*91)\nGrandfather's Clock: Milton C. Work's famous song picturized. (1)\nThe Hidden Talisman: Scenes in The Cloisters, New York City's medieval museum. (\u202291)\nHome Sweet Home: Modern story inspired by a song. (54)\nHope: Dramatization of George Frederick Watts' painting. (164)\nII Trovatore: Famous opera picturized. (164)\nThe Last of the Wood Engravers: Timothy Cole makes a wood engraving; close-ups of the wood block as the engraver cuts the lines. (157)\nThe Making of a Bronze Statue: Processes involved \u2014 A. Phimister Proctor's equestrian statute of Theodore Roosevelt. (\u202291)\nThe Making of Wrought Iron: Steps in the process of making a section of a grille. (91)\nMartha: Picturization of the opera. (77)\nThe Mother: Suggested by Whistler's painting. (54)\nThe Pottery Maker: The age-old process of making pottery, told in story form. (91)\nSculpture in Stone: Demonstration of the tools and technique employed in modern sculpture. (157)\nThe Spectre: Colonial fantasy \u2014 scenes laid in rooms in the American Wing of Metropolitan Museum. (91)\nTense Moments from Opera: 5 in a series, 1 reel each. Highlights from operas synchronized with music from the operas. Titles are: Faust, Rigoletto, Lily of Killarney, Maritana, Il Trovatore. (A54)\nWilliam Tell: A sound and talking version of the famous opera. (7)\nVasantasena: Story based on an incident in a tenth-century Indian temple. (2)\nA Visit to the Armor Galleries (2) Chain mail and Gothic armor; Maximilian and enriched armor. (91)\n\nWindows of Art (^) Development of stained glass windows; how it is made. (Young America (3) The story of a widow's son who made good in a band and became a solo cornetist with Sousa. (170)\n\nThe Young Painter (1) Story woven about Rembrandt's masterpiece (164)\n\nFind Distributors by reference -numbers (pages 129-ff.)\n\nASTRONOMY\nASTRONOMY\nGROUP 18 Astronomy\n\nAll Aboard for the Moon (1) Thrilling imaginary flight to the moon in cleverly designed rocket. Photography of the actual surface of the moon. Scientific information in popular vein. (20, 164)\n\nBirth of the Earth (y2) Representation in animated technical drawings, of the formation of earth, moon and sun. (20)\n\nCommuning with the Heavens (1) Explains work of Canada's astronomers; non-technical. (170)\nEarth and Moon (1) Phenomena connected with earth and moon; different phases of moon and eclipses of sun and moon. (49)\nEarth and Worlds Beyond (1) Animated summary of the cycles of day and night and of the seasons. (131, 49)\nThe Eclipse of 1925 (1) Shows every phase of total eclipse of sun in 1925. Made under supervision of The Scientific American. (109)\nEvolution of the Solar System (1) Beginning of everything \u2013 evolution of a solar system from nebula. (49)\nThe Heavenly Bodies (1 each) Series covering the field of astronomy. Titles are: The Development of Astronomical Knowledge; Gravitation, the Moon, Constellations; The Sun and Its Influence on the Earth; Mercury, Venus, Mars; Jupiter, Saturn, the Milky Way; The Evolution of the Romance of the Planets (1) Animated drawings and models.\nStrate nebular hypothesis. Ideas for interplanetary communication.\nRomance of the Skies: Study of the course of comets, eclipses and other phenomena of the heavens.\nTides and the Moon: Moon's effect on the sea, influence on tides, etc.\nTechnical drawings and actual photography.\nDay and Night: Clear illustration of cause and nature of day and night.\nSeasons: Exposition of change of seasons.\nWorlds in the Making: Origin of earth according to modern evolutionary hypothesis.\n(See also Groups 25, 60)\n\nBiography\nGROUP 19\nBiography\nAmerican Statesmen Series (1 each)\nBiographical studies of:\nBenjamin Franklin: From boyhood to his life in Philadelphia, where he helped to establish its institutions.\nAlexander Hamilton: Well-known incidents in his life, with particular attention to some of its most dramatic moments.\nThomas Jefferson, Life of the leader of Democracy.\nAbraham Lincoln, Summarizing life and career of Lincoln.\nGeorge Washington, Life of George Washington.\nDaniel Webster, Life of America's greatest orator.\nLuther Burbank, Study of work done by this great naturalist.\nIn a Naturalist's Garden, John Burroughs in his garden at Riverby.\nColumbus, Life of the mariner of long ago. (8 lines)\nThe Benefactor, Life of Edison, told in interesting episodes from age of five to present. (2 lines)\nLight's Golden Anniversary, Celebration held for Thomas A. Edison on the 50th anniversary of discovery of incandescent lamp. (2 lines)\nHeart of a Hero, Visualization of life of Nathan Hale. (6 lines)\nDeliverance, Biographic study of Helen Keller. (1 line)\nDavid Garrick, Life study of famous actor. (1 line)\nAbraham Lincoln:\n- George Billings in the role of Lincoln (Part)\n- Symbols and reference numbers explained on page 3. (Seventh Edition BIOGRAPHY, GROUP 19, Continued)\n  - Abraham Lincoln: Frank McGlynn in episodes from Lincoln's life (The Son of Democracy, 10 chapters, 2 each)\n  - Written, directed, and produced by Benjamin Chapin\n  - My Mother (2): The gentle influence and loving companionship of Nancy Hanks Lincoln\n  - My Father (2): The vital importance of an education\n  - The Call to Arms (2): The Lincoln family in the White House; Lincoln's problem of the war\n  - My First Jury (2): His defense of a little colored boy accused of stealing\n  - Tender Memories (2): Seeing a soldier's grave brings tender memories of his beloved mother's grave.\nA President's Answer: Revealed through constant granting of pardons.\nNative State: Story of Lincoln and Daniel Boone's grandson.\nUnder the Stars: The epic of Kentucky.\nThe Slave Auction: Evils of the slave traffic revealed.\nDown the River: Contest with a slave-stealing gang on the Mississippi.\nLand of Opportunity: Moving incident in Lincoln's life.\nRalph Livingstone: Picture made along the African trails by this famous explorer (3, 67).\nThe Life of Pasteur: Authentic film record of this great bacteriologist and benefactor (21, 49, 72, 114, 164).\nT. R. Himself: Highlights of his career chronologically arranged.\nThe Real Roosevelt: Vivid history of the great American (72, 164).\nT. R. Comes Back: Col. Roosevelt's arrival in New York after a year's absence in Africa (#170).\nThe River of Doubt: Expedition organized by Roosevelt in cooperation with the American Museum of Natural History.\nShakespeare in Memoriam: A few known facts and past associations with the picturesque background of his birthplace.\n\nChemistry\nGroup 20 Chemistry\nAtomic-Hydrogen Welding: Dr. Irving Langmuir tells of his work with vacuum tubes and hydrogen which led to the development of the atomic-hydrogen welding process. (A61, #61)\nBeyond the Microscope: Decomposition of water into its two gases; qualities of the gases. (#61)\nThe Chemistry of Combustion: Numerous experiments in combustion.\nThe Chemical Ethyl Alcohol: Manufacture of industrial alcohol from sugar plantation through to finished product. (#44, 170)\nChemical Inspirations: Animated drawings and trick photography from chemical solutions, producing novel effects. (164)\nExperiments in Crystallization: Growing of crystals of chemicals under the microscope. Oxygen: The Wonder Worker: How liquid air is made; how oxy-acetylene flame is used in industry. Radio Active Rays: Technical study with diagrams and experiments of disintegration of certain minerals. The Story of the Lucifer Match: Modern process of making matches.\n\nCivics and Patriotism (Series of 12, 1 reel each):\n1. Health\n2. Habits\n3. School\n4. Beautiful\n5. School Discipline\n6. School Industries\n7. Serving the Community (2 lessons)\n8. Working with Civic Organizations\n9. Thrift\n10. Obedience\n11. Service\n12. American Ideals\n13. Immigration. (#114, #120, #170)\nBetsy Ross: The Quakeress who made the first American flag at Washington's request\nA Citizen and His Government: Visualizing the services of our government, a lesson in Americanism\nColumbia, the Gem of the Ocean: Scenes show army and navy activities; titles are the words of the song\nThe Day We Celebrate: How Angus McKenzie becomes an American citizen\nThe Gates of Opportunity: Meant to impel adult immigrants to attend night or day classes in public schools\nGrowth of Cities and Their Problems: Problems attending the growth of small communities to thriving cities, and solutions\nHats Off: A Story of the Flag: Review of the past history of the flag\nImmigration to the United States: Important \"waves\" of immigration\n[131, 49] Old Glory: The Story of the \"starry banner of our country\" in beautiful Prizma color and pastel paintings. [54, 114, 133] Pathe Civics Course: Highlights from President Hoover's administration. [109] The Star-Spangled Banner: A new realization of the meaning of our flag, titled with verses of the national anthem. [164] The Story of the Star-Spangled Banner: Shows the circumstances under which Francis Scott Key wrote the song. [109] The Story of the Star-Spangled Banner: Displays the events leading to the writing of the national anthem. [72] The Torch of Liberty: The story of the progress of democracy from Washington to Hoover, with the story of the \"coward\" interwoven. Domestic Science [22] Domestic Science Group 22\nFamiliar Foods from Foreign Lands (1) Life history of foods that come to us from far ends of the earth. (21, 54, 114, 164)\nPractical Cooking Lessons (1 each) Each subject gives full directions and follows every step in preparation. Lessons are: A. Sunday Night Supper, Tea Time Tidbits, Sally Gives a Tea Party, Betty Gives a Lesson, The Little Gingerbread Man. (128)\n\nA Lesson in Cooking - How to Make an Omelette (1) Use of chafing dish.\nThe Staff of Life (1) History of bread baking; primitive methods in colonial kitchen and process in modern bakery. (102, 164)\nThe Leavener of Life (1) Baking powder and its manufacture. (67, 128)\nLeavening (3) History of leavening; different types of baking powder; action of baking powder done in animation. (*40)\nHome Canning, Up-to-Date Methods (1) Methods of canning various vegetables and fruits. (33, 76)\n[The Magic Jar: History of canning. Eternal Summertime: Story of a canning club. The Story of Ice: How winter's bounty becomes summer's necessity. Domestic Science Group 22: Domestic Science, Household Conveniences. A Modern Cinderella: Demonstrates use of sewing machine and attachments. Authentic Art in Milady's Boudoir: Development of authentic art periods in style trends as illustrated by toilet accessories. Economics Group 23: Economics, All in the Day's Work: A business day in a great manufacturing company's most important distributing house. Checkmated: Protection of money from early coins to present.]\nCarton on thrift. (44) Developing a Sales Organization Building a sales force. (\"57) The Federal Reserve System Functions and operations of Federal Reserve Banks. (170) The Mechanics of the Nation's Market Place Record of training and education NY Stock Exchange gives its employees. (leo, 170) Men and Management Elimination of waste in industry. (98) Modern Banking Daily routine in bank business. A Modern Jephthah Story of railroad strike leader. (36) Modern Merchandising Methods used in selling lamps. (A61, The Nation's Market Place 1 and 2) Portrayal of method and system Putting the \"Win\" in Windows Lessons in handling crepe paper for decorations, particularly for window display backgrounds. (170) Time Importance of being on time; evolution and development of time-keeping methods. (33)\nWaste Can't Win (4) Things that hold back production in a factory and how to eliminate them.\n\nEducational Activities\nGroup 24 Educational Activities\nVocational Guidance (Series of 9, 1 reel each) The titles are: The Artist, The Journalist, The Doctor, The Salesman, The Executive, The Engineer, The Skilled Mechanic, The Industrial Worker, The Farmer.\n\nBridging the Gap (2) Complete record of a Junior High School, the newer method of education.\n\nDevelopment of the Art of Handwriting (111) Tracing the progress of handwriting from Egyptian hieroglyphics to modern writing.\n\nDoll Messengers of Friendship (2) Adventures of Friendship Dolls which American and Japanese children exchanged.\n\nDrew Theological Seminary (2) Student life, classroom scenes and devotional activities.\n\nEyes of the Blind (1) Industrial and educational work among the blind.\nFrom Jacques to Johnnie: Home and school life of French children. (36)\nGettin' Larnin': A mountain schoolhouse in Tennessee. (87)\nGood Will to Mexico: Mexico's reception to the Friendship School. (.170)\nBags sent by the children of the United States as goodwill messages. (.170)\nHenry Ford Trade School: How boys earn a livelihood, receive an education and learn a practical trade. (57)\nMethodist Educational News: Two issues of screen magazine devoted to activities at Methodist schools. (+87)\nSchool Days: Story of modern rural education. (76, 170)\nSchool Police System: Emphasizing safety for school children. (\u2022122)\nA Schoolhouse of the Pamlico: Scenes of Washington Collegiate Institute on the Pamlico River, North Carolina. (87)\nSeeing is Believing: Portrays the story of the blind. (i*136)\nEducational Activities \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 24 (Continued) Educational Activities\nSilver Bay School (1) Self-explanatory. (170)\nSocial Etiquette (1) Lessons in etiquette. (164)\nA Tombstone Campus (1) Incidents and persons connected with finding the first Methodist college. (87)\nThe University of the Night (2) Need for and value of home-study; shows scope and influence of correspondence schools. (44)\nWhat Asheville Did for Thelma (2) A mountain girl at a school where she receives new visions of life. (30)\nWhere Governors Come From (3) Beginnings and present work being done in mountain school; shows need of such schools. (30)\n\nGeneral Science\nGroup 25 General Science\nGeneral Science (Series of 9, 1 or 2 reels each)\nTitles are: Man, Life, Water and Energy, The Earth, Fire and Heat, Air (2), Communication (2), Transportation. (#114, #120, #170)\nDewfall \u2013 Nature's Jewels (Specimens of dew condensation and frost formation under the microscope)\nMysteries of Snow (Different kinds of snow crystals and what causes them)\nOil Films on Water (Technical) (Dr. Irving Langmuir performs and explains many experiments; excellent close-ups) (A61, #61)\nScience of Bubbles (Explanation of formation, structure and behavior of soap bubbles) (42, 164)\nSunbeams (Composition of light and color; objects studied under varying light conditions) (54)\nWater (Study of some of the natural properties of water that are useful to man) (0164)\nWonders of the Sand (Various kinds of crystals under the microscope)\nGeography (Series of 9, 1 reel each)\n- People Who Live on a Great Plain\n- People Who Live by the Sea\n- People Who Live in a Crowded City\n- People Who Live in the Desert\n- People Who Live in the Tropics\n- People Who Live in the Arctic\n- People Who Live in the Mountains\n- People Who Live in the Jungle\n- People Who Live in the Valley\nPeople Who Live in Valleys, People Who Live on Mountains, People Who Live in Deserts, People Who Live at the Equator, People Who Live Through Industry and Modern Commerce, Altai (Life and customs of people in Altai mountains; new forms of life in this remote region), Bedouins of the Sahara (Sheep, goats and camels; Bedouins break camp and journey to homes in oases), Boats and Fishermen of the Arctic and the Tropics (Contrasts boat types and fishing methods of Central Eskimos and Fiji Islanders), Caspian Sea (Ethnographic sketch of the region), Drifting Dunes (Life in little villages on eastern shore of Baltic; fight against windblown sand), The Forest People of Central Africa (Study of African pygmies \u2014 their crude brush villages, shooting skill and daily life)\nForest People of Ude (6) Life and customs of a lost tribe in the remotest Ussurian region of Asia. (11)\nHouses of the Arctic and the Tropics (2) Snow house of Eskimos contrasted with thatched house of Fiji Islanders. (#109)\nHomes (1) Various homes of inhabitants of the world. (#58)\nIn Search of the Meteorite (5) Expedition to Siberian Taiga. Study of meteorite and of the people of the region. (11)\nSeventh Edition GEOGRAPHY 29\nGroup 26 (Continued) Human Geography and Anthropology\nKazakhstan (5) Life and customs of the Kirghiz people, the nomads of Kazakhstan. (11)\nThe Masai (1) Life of the Masai \u2014 a warlike, cattle-herding tribe of East Africa. (\u2022109)\nMedieval Moderns \u2014 Peasants of Hungary (3) Life, costumes, crafts and customs of peasants; interesting wedding ceremony. (#157)\nThe Mongols of Central Asia (1) Show their ways of moving, dwellings, games, customs, and clothes.\nPamir (6) Life and habits of nomadic Khirghiz tribes.\nThe Russian North (5) Customs of the primitive Arctic people in the sparsely populated region of Archangel.\nTungus (1) Story and life of Tungus hunters in the Siberian Taiga.\nAn Unknown Race \u2014 The Berber (3) Complete account of life and habits of primitive people in mountains north of Sahara.\nWanderers of the Arabian Desert (1) Shows the hardy, warlike Arab \u2013 his famous horse, sheep and goat herds, home life in tents.\n\nREGIONAL\nGROUP 27 Africa\nNorthern Africa\nAlgeria the Ancient (1) Arabs of the Sahara living as they did long ago; oases and village life. Prizma color. (133)\nThe City of Algiers (%), The city, old and new. (#23)\nChildren of the Sahara: Scenes of camel trains; herding of caravans; evening prayer in Garden of Allah. Desert of Sahara: Extensive and careful study of region by Capt. Angus Buchanan. Well adapted for teaching purposes. Gibraltar: Everyday life and historical associations. Harem Scarem: Street scenes and markets of Algiers. Lost Gods: Excavation in Carthage, Lytica and Libya regions of cities thousands of years old. Accompanied by lecture. Oases of the Sahara: Towns of Algerian desert; natives in desert occupations. Prizma color. Sahara Desert: Peoples and customs. (See also Groups 28, 75)\n\nGROUP 28: Egypt\nAlexandria: Views of the city.\nBazaars of Cairo: Character studies and intimate scenes of the teeming life in the Egyptian capital.\nThe Daily Life of the Egyptians (2) A modern peasant performs the same tasks in the same way as they did thousands of years ago.\nAn Egyptian Adventure (1) Scenes in Egypt; Sphinx and pyramids. Comedy of sailors buying and digging for fake treasure.\nThe Nile Bridge (%) Traffic on the Nile and desert views.\nThe Pyramids (%) The great pyramid of Cheops, the lowlands of the Nile, Libyan Desert.\nThe Road to the Pyramids (%) Miles of beautiful roads; mud villages; natives and their cattle; pyramids. (#23, 164)\nThe Sacred Scarab (1) Inscriptions of the sacred beetle on tombs; habits.\nThe Temple and Tombs of Ancient Egypt (2) Shows some of the more striking monuments \u2014 pyramids and Sphinx, temples of Thebes. (#91)\nThe Upper Nile (%) Cruising about the submerged island of Philae and Temple of the Isis. (#23)\nSee also Groups 27, 75.\nFind distributors by reference - numbers (pages 129-ff.)\n30. Geography \"1000 am\nGroup 29. Central and South Africa\nAfrica: Training and educating natives; scenes of Johannesburg. An African Adventure: Visit to a native village. (A* 18, A* 144)\nThe Disappearing Jungle: The white man's transformation of Africa - irrigation, plantations and mills. (A* 18, A* 144)\nCape of Good Hope: Events and landmarks dealing with life of Cecil Rhodes; Capetown and Table Mountain. Prizma color. (133)\nGlories of Motoring: Majestic grandeur of mountain ranges of South Africa. (170)\nThe Great Tourist Resort: Delightful varied and vivid interests of South Africa. (170)\nTip of the Dark Continent: Cape Colony scenes. (35)\nVictoria Falls: One of the wonders of the world \u2014 discovered by David Livingstone. (170)\nWild Men of Kalahari (6) Dr. C. Ernest Cadle tells of native life in southwestern Africa among the most primitive human beings. (A67, A140)\n\nZulu Native Life (1) War dance of this tribe. (170) (See also Group 113)\n\nGROUP 30 Asia China\nBits of China (1) Shanghai, Hong Kong and Manchuria. (164)\nChinese Republic (1) General survey, industries and resources, chief cities. (164)\n\nThe City That Never Sleeps (1) Life, manners and customs of Canton. (164)\nThe Great Wall of China (1) Interesting views of this wonder. (164)\nIn the Steps of Genghis Khan (1) The forbidden city \u2014 pagodas, temples and Ming tombs. (A153)\nA Land of Eternal Summer (1) Story of life in Hong Kong. (#20)\nPieces of China (6) Cities, ancient palaces, great wall, arched bridges, tea houses, colleges and tombs. (109)\n\nShanghai (1) Tour of China's great seaport down to Singapore.\nGroup 31: India and Ceylon\nIndia: Customs and Occupations\n- Life studies: bathing season at Madra, Hindu Nautch girls, snake charmers. (164)\nBenares: Street scenes of world center of Hinduism; detailed views of priests and pilgrims; the Ganges and ceremonial rites. (109)\nCalcutta: Exterior aspects of largest city of British India; parks, thoroughfares, harbor, temple and Queen Victoria Memorial. (109)\nIndian Empire: General survey, topography, climate, food production, views of Ganges and Delhi. (164)\nKashmir: Old and New\n- Hindu and Mohammedan religious ceremonies; manufacture of paper; an American model school. (109)\nGroup 32: Japan\nChildren of Japan (1) - interesting studies of child life at work and glimpses of the Country of Arts and Crafts (1) - Japan: its embroideries, lacquered objects, etc. (A* 18, A* 144)\nJapan (Series of 5, 1 reel each)\n- Cabaret of Old Japan\n- Tokio to the Metropolis\n- Japan\n- Japanese Oddities\n- Old Nippon\n\nJapan (1) - scenic and industrial study of the country. (27, 114, 133)\nJapanese Empire (1) - study of the \"Island Empire\": resources, industries and native life. (164)\nJapan Today (1) Contrasting the old and new in cities. (164)\nNippon (1) Interior Japan with primitive lumbering and fishing industries. (133)\nOld Japan (1) Interesting scenes. (54) (See also Groups 79, 134)\n\nGROUP 33 Palestine\nBethlehem (1) Views of the city. (72)\nDamascus (1) Of special interest in connection with the life of St. Paul and Pilgrimage to Mecca. (36)\nThe Damascus Gate (%) Great North Portal and native types.\nHebron the Ancient (1) Bible history. (36)\nThe Holy Land (1) Jerusalem and Mount of Olives today. (54)\nModern Jerusalem (1) The city as it is today. (72)\nPalestine (1) Trip to the Holy Land. (54)\nPaths in Palestine (1) Scenes of historical and religious interest.\nPilgrimage to the Holy Land (Series of 4, 1 reel each) Titles are:\nOn the Road to Bethlehem (1) Picturesque scenes along the road leading past the well of the Magi.\nThe Kingdom of David: Valleys and plains which abound with memories. The Land of Moses: Birthplace and scenes connected with his life. Gibeah: City of Saul, first king of Israel.\n\nPilgrimage to Palestine Series (19 reels, each 1 reel): This series shows places of interest in the land once the cradle of civilization: Bethlehem, the Birthplace of the Child Jesus (scenes in and around the city). Nazareth, the Boyhood Home of Jesus (scenes of Bible times). The Sea of Galilee (scenes of Christ's early ministry). Bethany in Judea (scenes of Christ's later ministry). The Garden of Gethsemane (scenes of Christ's agony, betrayal, and trial). Via Dolorosa (scenes of Crucifixion, burial, and ascension). Jerusalem, the Holy City (walls and streets, primitive industries, and life of a cosmopolitan population). Zion, David's City (old part of Jerusalem).\nThe Temple, reminders of Solomon's splendor.\nAbraham, scenes of his travels through the lands of the Old Testament.\nThe Journey of the Israelites, following them out of bondage in Egypt, to Mt. Sinai.\nMount Sinai, its association with Bible episodes.\nJoseph, the ruler, land which formed the background of the story of Joseph.\nThe Land of Samson, his birthplace and scenes of his life.\nSamaria, land of the Gentiles between Judea and Galilee.\nMount Carmel, scenes connected with the lives of Bible characters.\nThe Land of the Prophets, actual spots where they once lived.\nSt. Paul the Apostle, places in Palestine visited by St. Paul.\nBaalbek, splendid ruins of a city long torn by religious strife.\nHistory of Solomon's Temple, from the tented Tabernacle of the children of Israel, down to the present day.\nValley of Schechem (1) Geography and history. (36)\nWells of the Holy Land (1) Views of many Bible wells. (109)\nFind Distributors by reference-numbers (pages 129-ff.)\n32 GEOGRAPHY \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 34 Asia\nAfghanistan, the Heart of Asia (6) Customs and modes of past and innovations of the machine age. (11)\nChildren of the Near East (1) Visit to various orphanages in Tiflis, Jerusalem, Syria and Alexandrapol. (164)\nA Persian Wedding (1) Marriage ceremony. (A* 18, A* 144)\nRuins of Angkor (1) Masterpieces of Brahman architecture in Indo-China ruins. Ceremonies of Buddhist priests. (54, 114, 133)\nSyria (1) Ancient city of Horns with quaint markets; beautiful Tripolis, an ancient walled town; water wheels. (170)\nUzbekistan (1) Old cities of Samarkand, Bukhara and Tashkent. (11)\nGROUP 35 Australasia\nAustralasia\nAdelaide and Melbourne (Series of 3, 1 reel each): Government House and famous botanical gardens of Melbourne. Australia (Comprehensive study: 164) Views of country.\n\nCommonwealth of Australia (1 reel): Comprehensive study.\n\nAustralia and New Zealand (1 reel): Physical character, principal cities, characteristic studies, interesting views.\n\nKangaroos in Australia (1/4 reel): In the zoo and in the bush.\n\nA Glimpse of New Zealand (1/3 reel): Magnificent pictures of Wanganui River and Falls.\n\nNew Zealand (Series of 2): Titles are: Auckland, the Metropolis of New Zealand; Romance of Hine Moa (6 reels: 3 reels for part 1, 67 reels for part 2); Under the Southern Cross (7 reels: A155).\nGROUP 36 EUROPE British Isles\nGlimpses of English Town and Country (%) Stonehenge, Ilfracombe, Cambridge, the River Cam, Stratford-on-Avon. Historic Shrines of England (1) Landmarks commemorating the years of Britain's early history.\nThe Sunny South of England (V+) Bournemouth; Looe and its pretty tidal river. (*23)\nCommercial London (1) Notable sights; business section; East and West side. (164)\nLondon (1) Landmarks of London in color. (54)\nRubbernecking in London (1) Famous landmarks; titling in light vein.\nFresh Fish (1) Sightseeing in London with sailors on leave. Animated.\nSeeing London (Series of 4, % reel each) Part One \u2014 Westminster and Whitehall; Part Two \u2014 St. James Park to the Bank of England; Part Three \u2014 Tower of London to St. Paul's ; Part Four \u2014 Windsor Castle and royal close-ups. (*23)\nThe River Wye Glimpses of rural life. (164) Shakespeare's Country Scenes and places around Stratford-on-Avon. The River Dee Scotland (Va) Scenes along river. (164) Scotland Glasgow, Edinburgh and rural country. Bonnie Scotland Natives and country life in Highlands and Lowlands In Bonnie Scotland (Series of 2, % reel each) Part One \u2014 Edinburgh and the Caledonian Canal; Part Two \u2014 Great Forth Bridge, Fingal's Cave, Isle of Skye, Loch Awe. The Emerald Isle Glimpses of a restful land. (164) On the River Conway Beautiful views along river \u2014 Wales. Geography Wholesome Films Service, Inc. Specialists in selected film service for Church, School, Club, Y.M.C.A., Home and Community Center.\nThe most complete library in New England of educational and entertainment films on safety non-inflammable stock, as well as some 16 mm. films. Portable and 16 mm. projectors for sale or rent. New England's pioneer in the non-theatrical field.\n\n48 Melrose Street, Boston, Mass.\nGroup 37 France\n\nApple-Blossom Time in Normandy: Scenes of town and country life along the Seine; the village of Falaise.\nGardens of Normandy: Deauville and environs, in natural color.\nAn Artist's Paradise: Artist colony at Concarneau and the old town itself. Prizma color.\nBretons of the Sea: Tale of a fishing village of Brittany, showing sailor-folk and their customs. Prizma color.\nChateaux of France: Artistic presentation of some of the castles \u2013 their beauty and historic significance.\nCorsica \u2013 Napoleon's Homeland: Streets, buildings, daily life of Corsica.\nFrance (Series of 3, 1 reel each) Interesting sights: Marseilles (1) - Cathedral of Notre Dame, wharves and other scenes. Monte Carlo (1) - Europe's famous resort. Nine Glories of Paris (4) - Arch of Victory, Sacred Heart on Montmartre, Eiffel Tower, Place de la Concorde, Arch of Carrousel. Paris in Fifteen Minutes (1) - Arc de Triomphe, Luxembourg, The Opera, flower markets, Notre Dame and other views. Unconquerable Paris (1) - Cathedrals, people, etc. (92, 164) Seeing Paris (Series of 4, y\u00b1 reel each) Part One \u2014 On the Boulevards; Part Two \u2014 The Champs-Elysees ; Part Three \u2014 Notre Dame and the Latin Quarter; Part Four \u2014 Up and Around the Eiffel Tower. (23) Refreshing Riviera (1) - Europe's playground, in Prizma color. Rheims (1) - Color scenes of famous city and its cathedral. (54)\nRomance of Northern France: Why Northern France has been Europe's battleground, industries of cities (21, 54, 72, 114, 164)\nA Trip on the Seine: Ride up Seine through heart of Paris (#23)\nA Trip up the Seine:Views along both sides of river (#131)\nThe Great Waters of Versailles: Fountain of Latona, Apollo's Chariot, glorious basin of Neptune (*23)\nGlorious Versailles: Palaces and gardens (#23)\nWhen the Fishing Fleet Comes Home: Simple fisher-folks of Brittany welcome sturdy crews (#131)\nGroup 38: Germany\nBerlin Today: Streets, palaces, and gardens (1641)\nGermany Today: Spring in Heidelberg and many interesting scenes in Berlin (164)\nGolden Fleece: Sheep-raising in the Black Forest; beautiful scenes.\nA Holiday in Oberammergau: Entire village takes part in traditional plays (1)\nfolk dances; brilliant costumes and heirlooms. (See alto Groups 75, 1231)\n34 GEOGRAPHY \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 39 Italy\nItaly Today (1) Edited newsreel clipping of current events. (164)\nItaly's Sons of the Sea (1) Life on board training ships. (131)\nA Day in Florence (1) Busy streets and historic structures. (164)\nRome \u2014 From the Tiber to the Piave (1) Panorama of Rome; St. Peters, the Coliseum and Forum. (164)\nBella Napoli (1) Naples, Vesuvius and Capri. (A* 18, A*144)\nNaples and Vesuvius (1) Contrasting carefree Naples with ever-deadly menace, Mt. Vesuvius. (164)\nGreat Caesar's Ghost (1) Venice and Milan; animated sequences.\nVenice Today (1) Current news shots. (164)\nVenice: Scenic picture of the city - Grand Canal, Bridge of Sighs, Church of St. Mark, harbor. (#131) Stones of Venice: Architectural gems of the city. (92S)\n\nCathedral Towns of Italy: Architectural contrasts in church structures of Florence, Milan, and Pisa. (164)\n\nSicily: Trip on the island of sunshine - blossoms and earthquakes. (164)\n\nGroup 40: Russia\n\nAlong the Shores of the Black Sea: Beautiful coast line where villas and palaces are converted into sanatoriums for workers. (3)\n\nThe Gates of the Caucasus: Ascending Mt. Kazbek; primitive modes of mountain tribes of Georgia; Georgian Military Highway. (11)\n\nKamchatka: World's greatest fishing district; beginning of new industries in this region; life and customs. (11)\n\nMoscow: Life in present-day Moscow. (11)\nMoscow and Siberia (1) General view of Moscow; journey through Crimea and Lake Baikal. (114)\nOld and New (7) Dramatization of agricultural progress in U.S.S.R. Directed by S.M. Eisenstein. (11)\nRussia in the Czar's Time (1) Petrograd, Moscow and the Kremlin as they were under Imperial regime. (164)\nSoviet Union at Work (5) Natural resources and industries of U.S.S.R. (11)\nStrange Fishermen of Russia (1) Scenic of Russian life. (114)\nTurksib (5) Story of the great Turkestan-Siberia railroad. (11)\nThe Union of Nationalities (3) Survey of customs and life of people of diverse nationalities living in U.S.S.R. (11)\nThe Ural (5) Life of people around Ural mountains; industries and activities. (11)\nGroup 41 Spain (1) Studies of child life in Seville, Granada and villages of Andalusia. (164)\nSeville and Madrid, Life in Spanish capital; Lisbon and Funchal; burial place of Columbus.\nSpic and Spain: Seville and Spanish scenes; animated sequences.\nPyrenees and Wooden Legs: Penetrating the Pyrenees, valleys and canyons; Alpine peaks. (See also Group 75)\n\nGroup 42\nSwitzerland\nAlpine Paradise: Quaint city of Berne, famous St. Gothard Railway; types and life in the valley.\nAlpine Vistas from Zugspitze: Views of one of the most famous and beautiful mountains in the world.\nSymbols and reference-numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition\nGEOGRAPHY\nRussian Educational Films\nGeographical, Medical, Biological and Physiological\nWrite for Particulars\nAmkino Corporation\nEducational Dept.\n723 Seventh Ave., New York City\nGroup 42 (Continued) Switzerland\nThe Lake of Lucerne: Glimpses of tunneled Axenstrasse; Chapel of William Tell: quaint ports; lovely bits of Switzerland. Scenes of old medieval town. Perils of the Alps: Climb to summit of the Blumisalp Horn. The Little Swiss Wood Carver: When Seppi loses his father's wood carvings, he substitutes some of his own making and wins great praise. Swiss customs and history. Switzerland Cheese: Mountain scenery and festivals; cheese factory and processes.\n\nGroup 43 General\nArtistic Antwerp: Antwerp's treasury of art and home of old masters; the Cathedral; harbor and River Scheldt. Highlights in architecture, religion and physical aspects; scenes from principal cities. In Rural Belgium: Scenes of country.\nBelgian Cities: Old Bruges with canals and quaint streets; Ghent with quais and cathedrals; Ostend with fishing and pleasure beaches; Antwerp with commerce; Liege with industries; Brussels with avenues and buildings. (157)\n\nPrague: City of a Hundred Towers. Views of old Christian churches, great palace, Cathedral of St. Vitus. (164)\n\nCountry Life in Bohemia: Agricultural life of peasants. (164)\n\nBulgaria: Industries, customs. (A18, A144)\n\nDown to Dalmatia: Cattaro, Staplo and Ragusa. (A153)\n\nGetting in Dutch: Canals, dykes and Dutch costumes; animated sequences. (A153)\n\nLand of the Zuider Zee: Little village of Vollendam \u2013 customs and quaint costumes of old Holland. (77)\n\nThe Little Dutch Tulip Girl: In a dream, a little American boy visits. (1)\nKatrina visits The Hague, Leiden, Isle of Marken, famous tulip and cheese industries. Canals and Streets of Amsterdam, Impressions of the Dutch metropolis. The Cheese Market of Alkmaar, Barges of cheese; buying and selling wholesale in Holland's largest cheese market. Greece, A trip through Peloponnesus showing peasants in daily life. Greece Through a Doughnut, Scenes in Athens and ruins; sequences of a sailor paying his way with doughnuts. Fjords of Norway, Cruising among the mountains. Romania, Lumbering and farming. Sarajevo, Picturesque scenes and everyday life in the capital of Bosnia. Down the Danube, Monastery of Melk, medieval castles. Glimpses of Vienna, Characteristic city scenes.\nThe Gota Canal (1) Waterways connecting Stockholm and Gothenburg, Sweden. (164)\nPeasant Life in Sweden (1) Goat and cattle herding, daily tasks and recreation. (164)\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 43 (Continued) EUROPE\nPolar Panic (1) Sightseeing in Gothenberg with sailors on leave. Animated. (A153)\nShepherds of Tatra (1) Customs and mode of life of a bygone age. (131, 170)\nGROUP 44 North America\nAlaska (Series of 3, 1 reel each) Complete story of the country. (72)\nAlaskan Adventures (6) Remarkable scenic record of Alaskan wonders, filmed during year and a half of wanderings. (109)\nAlaskan Wild Game (%) Sea lions, seals, Rocky Mountain goats, herds of caribou, bears, white sheep, moose. (\u202259)\nThe Break-Up (5) Capt. Jack Robertson and his dog display the marvels of America's last great frontier. (A67, A140)\n\nThe Ice Break-up in Alaska (%) Spring break-up on the upper Yukon and Tanana Rivers. (\u202259)\n\nCruising to Alaska (1 or 2) Scenes of the country. (\u2022106, *122)\n\nHeart of Alaska (5) Description of interior Alaska. (36, 42, 164)\n\nReindeer Herds of the Arctic (*4) Record of growth of the herds; type of country they inhabit and methods used in controlling them. (*59)\n\nTrail Mates (4) The travels of \"Wrongstart,\" a little dog, and what he sees in Alaska \u2014 icebergs, glaciers, birds, fish and animals. (*59)\n\nWhite Hell (5) Drama of life in Alaska. (114)\n\n(See also Groups 46, 55)\n\nGROUP 45 Canada\n\nLabrador and Newfoundland (1) Scenic beauty and picturesque life of these quaint people. (164)\n\nThe Maritime Provinces (1) Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island.\nEdward Island, Nova Scotia: Apple Blossom Time in Evangeline's Land (170)\nHistoric Minas region, Longfellow's poem (67, 164, 170)\nCity by the Sea, Halifax views (36, 170)\nA Seaside Summerland, picturesque towns South Shore (170)\nLake Louise, Canadian scenery (96)\nLa Roche Percee, Gaspe Coast, Gulf of St. Lawrence (170)\nIn and Around Moncton, city features (170)\nCanada's Metropolis, Montreal views (170)\nGibraltar of America, City of Quebec (170)\nBy-Ways of Quebec, city and surrounding country (96)\nThe City of Loyalists, St. John, New Brunswick (170)\nRed Man at Banff, Alps center views (170)\nAnnual\n[164] The Great Northwest: Extensive salmon canneries, sheep raising, and irrigation in Southwestern Canada. [164] Falling Waters: Different waterfalls in Canada. [164, 170] Conquering Canada's Alps: Climbing Mt. Robson with exceptional glacier views. [164] Kicking Horse Trail: Film journey over the great highway through the Canadian Rockies. [170] A Bit of High Life: Alpinists in action in the wonderful regions of the Canadian Rockies. [170] Motoring in Cloudland: New highway through Central Canadian scenery. [170] Where Beauty Dwells: Picturesque and interesting trip to Jasper. [1] Old Moose Trails: Trip to the wilds of Alberta. [1] Far Horizons: Climbing Canadian mountains and glaciers. [1] The Roof of the World: On top of Canadian mountains. [96] Beautiful Nipigon: Scenic river. [36]\nNipigon Trails (1) Picturesque canoe trip down famous Nipigon River.\nSeventh Edition GEOGRAPHY 37\nGROUP 45 (Continued) Canada\nFifteen Minutes from Skyscrapers (1) Vancouver's famous forest playground, Stanley Park.\nThrough the Norway of America (1) Vancouver to Prince Rupert.\nCanada's Queen City (1) Views of Vancouver.\nYoho (1) Travelogue of famous Yoho Valley.\nIn the Wake of Captain Cook (1) Aeroplane trip to a quaint Indian fishing village on the northern Pacific Coast of Canada.\nGROUP 46 Polar Regions\nAdventures in the Far North (5) Scenic record of trip from Seattle to Alaskan seas; animal and bird life in the Arctic; Eskimos and far-northern industries, notably whaling.\nBird and Animal Life of the Far North (1) How Eskimos catch walrus.\nViews of blue fox, seal, white whale and walrus.\nBottom of the World (5) Talking picture of the country at the gates of the Antarctic. Robert Cushman describes sea elephants and sea leopards. Dwellers of the Northland: Aleut Indians, Cliff Dwelling Eskimos, Chuchi Indians. Hunting and fishing methods. (#59)\n\nEskimo Life in South Greenland 1 1 1 Daily occupations, games and dances. Views of fjords and remains of homes of Noisemen. (#14)\n\nThe Great White North (41) Rasmussen's dash for the pole: record of In the Shadows of the North Pole (151) Scenes made in Greenland by Dr. Dumbrava. (#116)\n\nKivalina of the Icelands (6) Love and perils in the shadow of northern lights; Aurora Borealis in natural colors and other Arctic wonders. (109)\n\nThe Most Northern People in the World (11) Modes of living of the Eskimos \u2014 homes, clothing, food, occupations and games. (\u202214)\nPolicing the Arctic (11) Establishment of a base for the Royal Mounted Police in the Far North.\nPrimitive Love (61) Life and love among the Eskimos. Thrilling conflicts with wild animals.\nRescue Ship Krassin (7) Record of Russian rescue of the Nobile expedition into the North by the ice-breaker \"Krassin.\"\nTo the South Pole with Commander Byrd (1) Preparations for a Trip Through the Arctic with Uncle Sam\nViews of Eskimo life along the coast of Alaska and Siberia. Titles are: Part I on the U.S.S. Cutter Bear; Part II \u2014 In the Land of the Midnight Sun; Part III \u2014 Uncle Sam Moves His Eskimo Family; Part IV \u2014 Queer Industries of the Arctic. (164)\nTraveling with the Eskimos (1) Work of Eskimo dogs. Daily life and mode of living of Eskimos.\nWild Life in the Arctic (5) Bird and animal life \u2014 walrus hunting.\nHarpooning whales, bear hunting, and capturing young seals. New England Industries (Review of industries in this region). New England States (Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Rhode Island) Distinctive physical features and relation to commercial activities, resources, industries, and cities. Middle Atlantic States Resources, harbors, natural trade routes, mountains, and lakes of Adirondack and Catskill regions. Cape Cod and Provincetown Narrow and crooked streets and typical Provincetown characters. Touring the Berkshires Historic scenes in picturesque hills of New England. Geography (Continued) Group 47 (United States) East Empire State Topography and industries of New York.\nThe Historic Trip up the Hudson River from New York to Albany passing spots of historic interest and scenic beauty.\nThe Man at the Throttle - Ride in locomotive cab of the Twentieth Century from New York to Albany.\nWhere the Spirit was Born - Views of Lexington, Valley Forge and Philadelphia.\nNiagara - Familiar scenes, in Prizma color.\nNiagara, the Glorious Views of Horseshoe and American Falls, Whirlpool Rapids and the Gorge.\nCentral and South\nCentral Plains - Agriculture of the region: stock-raising, dairying, poultry-farming: mining, lumbering and quarrying.\nGreat Plains - Sheep and cattle on range and ranch: cities.\nSouthern States - Florida Keys: coal-mining in Birmingham district: cultivation of crops: lumbering: turpentine manufacture.\nI. Industries of the Sunny South\n1. Moss-hung forests, conveying logs to lumber mills: cultivation of rice, cotton, sugar (page 54, line 164)\n2. Scenes and life along the Suwanee River. (Suwanee River, page 114)\n3. Birds and Alligators of Louisiana: Federal Bird Refuge on Avery Island in lower Mississippi. (page 35, line 164)\n4. Florida: Physical characteristics, climate, vegetation, resources, and industries; cities. (page 164)\n5. Indian Travelogues: Places of historic interest and scenic beauty in Indiana and Illinois. (page 33)\n6. The Priceless Heritage: Following the trails through the wild natural beauty of Gogebic region in upper Michigan. (page 33)\n\nII. Group 49\n1. America's Summer Paradise (Minnesota): a vacation land supreme.\n2. Minnesota's Ten Thousand Lakes: lake region of northern Minnesota.\nRoof of America: Northern Montana watershed, its lakes, mountains and valleys. Prizma color. Blackfeet Indians. '27, '35, '133)\nMontana Rockies: Trip above timber line to famous \"Grasshopper Glacier.\" Panoramas of mountains, flowers, snow and lakes.\nSwan River Wilderness: In wild national forests of western Montana; beautiful mountain pictures.\nHighlands of Oregon: Scenic views of Mt. Jefferson, Mt. Hood, Columbia River, Multnomah Falls; forests and mountain lakes. (*20)\nPictures of Oregon: 106 Columbia River Highway: Portland and Rose Festival; beach scenes along coast.\nFrom the Car Window: Scenes along line of the Great Northern Railway from Chicago to Seattle and Portland. (\u2022122)\nThe Shasta Route: Nature's treasures stored in Cascade region of Pacific Northwest. (170)\nWestward Ho! Railroad ride from Chicago over famous route of the North Coast Limited. A Saddle Journey to the Clouds: Horseback expedition among peaks. GEOGRAPHY, 39th Edition. As Producers of Motion Pictures Since 1910, You Will Find Our FREE Films Suitable for Educational Showings. Send for Complete Catalog. RAY-BELL FILMS, Inc. 817 University Ave., Saint Paul, MINN. Group 50 Central West. Black Hills, S.D. Scenic attractions and agricultural possibilities on and adjacent to Belle Fourche project. The Black Hills: Interesting trip to this section. Colorado: Majestic peaks of the Rockies; regions famous for silver, gold and copper. Pictorial Colorado: Scenes of points of interest around Colorado Springs and Denver. The Sentinel: Trip up Pike's Peak via the cog railroad and return.\nThe auto highway. (94, #122)\nKildeer Rodeo (3) Annual Roundup at Kildeer Mountains, N.D.\nTowering Wonders of Utah (1) Strange scenic phenomena in mountains of Utah and Nevada. (35, 36, 49, 90)\nElkland (1) Shoshone Valley of Wyoming. Prizma color. (133)\nGROUP 51 Southwest\nThe Apache Trail (1) Old trail used by Spanish explorers; scenes of Roosevelt Dam; ruins of cliff dwellings; Apache Indians. (133)\nColorado River (3) Scenes in canyon of the Colorado River and in the Imperial Valley. (149)\nGrand Canyon (1) Prizma color reproductions of scenic wonders of Petrified Forest of Arizona. (1) Marvelous natural formations in color.\nThe Sunset Route (3) Picture journey through historic and scenic Southwest. (170)\nGolden State (2) Comprehensive study of California. (49)\nSkyland Trails (1) Trip to Mt. Wilson. (169)\nSixty Minutes from Broadway: Ranches, ostrich and alligator farms in California. (36, 92)\n\nCalifornia: Natural resources and industries. (164j)\n\nCalifornia's Picturesque Peninsula: Comprehensive study \u2014 bay shore and ocean shore, crops, flowers, industries, history. (A*59>)\n\nBeside the Western Sea: Story of the Pacific Coast empire. (170)\n\nFrom the Sea to the Sierra: Trip from the Pacific to Sierra Valley of Today: Story of the Mojave Desert and what there is today in the way of agriculture, sports, resorts, etc. (169)\n\nHitting the High Spots: Pack saddle journey in Sierra Mountains: big trees, geysers, petrified forest, etc. (35, 36)\n\nGROUP 52\nAmerica \u2014 The Storehouse of the World\nOur land, the granary that feeds America \u2014\nAmerica \u2014 The Mouthpiece of Freedom\nGenius of the people who have created it.\nThe United States \u2014 Enduring Power for Service\nThe United States: A Ten Talent Nation\n1. The United States: The Land of Freedom (in Christian civilization)\n21. Geography: \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 52\n1. The United States: The Garden with a Protected Soil\nConservation of natural resources, careful development.\n21, 54, 72, 114, 164\n2. America: The Land of Many Waters\nMade useful in building the nation\n21, 54, 114, 164\n3. North America: Center of the World Neighborhood\nLocation, climate, and boundaries.\nSize, arid topography.\n4. Topographic Formation\n5. Rivers as Agents in Shaping the Surface of the Earth\n6. The Life History of a Stream\n7. The Ancestry and Classification of Soil\nSoil Conservation\n8. Agricultural Resources\n9. Animal Resources\n10. Forest Resources\n11. Water Resources.\nMineral Resources. Pacific Mountains and Lowlands: Lumbering and fishing; agricultural areas: commercial and industrial life: seaports: views of famous scenic features. (131)\nTrail of the Beautiful: Winding trip along western rivers and mountains. (92)\nRoads to Wonderland: Scenic spots reached by roads built by government\u2014Mt. Hood, Crater Lake, and Yosemite. (150)\nRocky Mountains: Rich resources of minerals; forests; fertile valley farm lands and orchards. Scenic wonders. (131)\nTrail and Stirrup: Vision of outdoors and mountain trails. (92)\nWestern Plateaus: Physiography and climate of Colorado Plateau, Great Basin and Columbia Plateau; life and industries. (131)\nCities\nCities of the V.S.A.: Points of interest in a group of most important cities. I &2 I\nBaltimore \u2014 City of Firsts (2) Unusual scenes of some of the \"firsts\" for which Baltimore is famous; scenes in ice-cream plant. (136)\nA Trip Through Boston's Park System (2) Boston Common, Public Gardens, and other scenes. (164)\nBoston Harbor (1) General survey of New England's great shipping ports. (54, 164)\nRound About Chicago (2) Trip to places of interest and beauty, ending with pictures of Graf Zeppelin on its visit to Chicago. (33, 67)\nDetroit (1) Glimpses of the city. (128)\nPhiladelphia (1) Scenes and places connected with early history. (1, 11)\nA Man Made Eden (1) Scenes in Los Angeles. (363.4.2)\nOn to Minneapolis (1) A convention film which contains interesting views of the Mill City and Minnehaha Falls. (122)\nLove's Old Sweet Song 1.5 I Story of New Orleans and its growth through three generations. (114)\nInfinite Variety of Old New York I I Contrasts of the metropolis which make it the greatest city in the world. (164)\nNew York \u2014 America's Gateway 111 Noteworthy places and buildings. Old New York (1) Views of early and modern landmarks. (35)\nSymbols and reference-numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 53 (Continued) UNITED STATES Cities\nNew York, the Wonder City 111 Trip through lower Manhattan, the most crowded spot on earth. (#20)\nFifth Avenue and the Forties I % I Life in the forties, Fifth Avenue and Park Avenue vistas. (\"23\")\nYour New York and Mine 111 New York from the air during the day and after the millions of lights come on. (160)\nThe Real Charleston (1) Views of the city. ('21)\nSan Francisco, 111 Parks and residences; its shipping. Touring California's Ports: San Diego, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. Washington, D.C. (View of city from Washington Monument.)\n\nGroup 54 National Parks and Forests\n\nCloud-Busting: Adventures of automobile touring party in White Mountain National Forest, N.H. (150)\n\nThe Story of Our National Parks > Beautiful features of Yellowstone, Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Rocky Mountain Parks. Ito, 128)\n\nWhere It's Always Vacation Time: Algonquin Park in winter and summer. (170)\n\nBryce Canyon National Park (1) Series of news. (Ill)\n\nLand of Shining Mountains: Scenic spots in Glacier National Park showing all sections of the park. 1 #122)\n\nTen Minutes in Glacier National Park: Technicolor film. I 122 | Beauty Spots, in Glacier Park: On the trails; Granite Park; Many.\nGlaciers Hotel (23)\nLakes and St-earns of Glacier Park: Lake McDermott (23)\nGrand Canyon National Park (1) All scenic features of the park.\nFrom a Ranger's Notebook With the Mounted Patrol on Mt. Rainier and Mt. Baker (1) Trip to these two well-known mountains.\nAbove the Clouds in Rainier National Park A two-day climb from Paradise Inn to the summit of Mt. Rainier (106, 122, 170)\nRocky Mountain National Park (1 1) Fall River Road and famous spots in the park (23)\nEstes Park (%) Interesting and picturesque spots (23)\nRoosevelt National Park (1) In the weird \"Bad Lands\" of North Dakota, where Roosevelt ranched (106)\nSagebrushing Through Yellowstone Park A ramble on foot to view natural beauties; animal life (90, 35, 49)\nOld Faithful (1) Study of this geyser. Natural color. \"27.49, 133\"\nMagic Yellowstone (li) Sightseeing tour. (#106. \u2022 122)\nYellowstone National Park (1) Natural wonders and animal life. (164)\nWonders of the Yellowstone Various scenes of the park. (Ill j\nNational Park Films\nBoth 16 mm. and 35mm., Nitrate or Safety. (Sale only)\nYellowstone, Yosemite, Zion, Bryce, Grand Canyon\nHand-colored Lantern Slides and Printed Travelogues of above subjects; also of Canadian Alps, New England, Mexico and our Great Southwest. Send for catalogues.\nHenry G. Peabody\nP.O. Box 111, Pasadena, California\nReference Xumber in \"1001\" is 111.\nGeography\nGROUP 54 (Continued) National Parks and Forests\nGeysers of the Yellowstone (%) Actual spoutings of the greater geysers.\nAnimals of Yellowstone: Bison, wild deer, hungry bears, Bird and Animal Life in Yellowstone: Furred and feathered inhabitants photographed in their natural surroundings, A Vacation Adventure: Unique glimpses of bird and animal life in Yellowstone National Park, Yosemite: Series of subjects photographed by Arthur C. Pillsbury. Yosemite from an Airplane, Wild Flowers of Yosemite, Camping in the Valley \u2014 A Winter Carnival, In the High Sierras, Animal and Bird Life of Yosemite, Nature's Cathedral: Reck Formations in Yosemite and giant trees in Sequoia National Park, Yosemite Vistas: Striking glimpses of Mirror Lake, El Capitan, etc., Waterfalls of the Yosemite: Bridal Veil, Vernal and Nevada Falls, Seeing Yosemite from a Saddle: Horseback riding on the floor of Yosemite.\nYosemite Valley, Glimpses of Yosemite, Tramp Through Yosemite, Yosemite National Park, Zion National Park, Group 55 Indians, Aboriginal Inhabitants, American Indian Series, America's Oldest Inhabitants, Hopi Indians of Painted Desert, Indians of the Painted Desert, Indian Uprising at Santa Fe\n\nYosemite Valley: A selection of views.\nTramp Through Yosemite: Scenic wonders.\nYosemite National Park: Series of views.\nZion National Park: Horseback parties on trail, Zion canyon, etc.\n\nAboriginal Inhabitants: Many tribes of Indians that inhabited North America before white man came.\nAmerican Indian Series: Princess Mona Darkfeather and all Indian cast in stories of Indians in early Pioneer Days.\nAmerica's Oldest Inhabitants: The Taos Indians of New Mexico.\nHopi Indians of Painted Desert: Origin of first inhabitants of Southwest; occupations of Hopis; terraced gardens.\nIndians of the Painted Desert: Intimate glimpses of home life of Navajo Indian in Northern Mexico.\nIndian Uprising at Santa Fe: All Indian cast.\n[The Little Indian Weaver: Story of friendship between an American boy and a little Indian girl. An Indian Legend: Tale of an Indian's struggle to redeem himself with his people. Last of the Seminoles: Indians of Florida Everglades. Last Stand of the Red Man: Life, customs and costumes of Navajo Indians of Painted Desert. The New Medicine Man: All Indian cast. People Without a History: Hopi Indians at home in cliff dwellings. The Return of Apikuni: A true story and true-to-life situations with Blackfeet Indians taking part. With the Hopi Indians in New Mexico: Manners and customs.]\nCentral America and Mexico\n\nGuatemala: In the land of Aztecs and Mayas; ancient temples and gigantic monoliths show civilization centuries old. (27, 133)\nCoffee Grounds: Native life on coffee plantations of Guatemala. (164)\n\nMexico:\nEmma Lindsay Squier, noted writer of Mexican stories, tells of Mayan ruins and of modern Mexico. (A67, A140)\nBeauties, progress, historical romance, (128)\nNewsreel events. (164)\nRelics of civilization ante-dating Aztecs. Famous ruins and modern architecture. (133)\nSeries of 2, 1 reel each: Mexican Oil Fields; Rainbow \u2014 The Mexican Indians. (72)\nPicturesque Industries of Mexico: Catching flies for fish and bird food; gathering fly-eggs; sandal making, brick moulding, etc. (133)\nRejuvenated Mexico: Recent glimpses of city and town life (164)\nPanama: Old city of Panama and trip through the canal (164)\nPanama: Survey of ancient city, leper colony, and U.S. fleet in The Panama Canal (3)\nThe Panama Canal: The \"Big Ditch\" in construction and completed (170)\nAnimated geography lesson (170)\nThe Panama Canal: Story of the great waterway (\u202261, \u2022170)\nThe Panama Canal and Its Historical Significance: Pictorial survey of the whole work, from ground and from air (\u00a9131, 66)\nSouth America:\nAdam and Eve in the Andes (1): Lake Titicaca and its sacred Islands of the Moon and Sun (164)\nOn the Amazon: Trip up the world's mightiest river, touching at Para and Manaos, Brazil (164)\nAmazon Trails: Pack-train journey into little-traveled regions near the Amazon River (#20)\nBuenos Aires: Fascinating trip through the city (164)\nThe Great Cataracts of Iguassu Panorama of Great Cataracts. Exquisite Iguassu Falls Views of Super Niagara of South America. Down the Essequibo River Primitive life and industries, notably placer mining. The Land of the Incas Land and people of Peru. On the Straits of Magellan Visit to the most southerly city in the world \u2014 Punta Arenas, on the Strait of Magellan. Rolling Into Rio Wonderful harbor; Sugar Loaf; Corcovado; Botanical Gardens; Avenida Central. Rolling Down to Rio Current day scenes in the City of Palms; also a visit to Santos and Buenos Aires. Roaming over Andean By-Ways Scenic wonders of Peru Seeing Things on the Orinoco Villages, coffee plantations, house-boats and yachts seen on trip up the Orinoco River. Sons of the Sun-God Peru and the Incas.\nGroup 58: Islands - Atlantic\nBermuda (1) Natural beauty and interesting sights.\nTeneriffe (1) Capital of Canary Islands; physical features, vegetation, and industries.\nUnder Cuban Skies (1) Different phases of life; interesting views.\nRambles in Porto Rico (1) Land of scenic beauty.\nSt. Thomas (1) Tour of our largest possession in the West Indies.\nOur Newest Possessions (Series of 3, 1 reel each)\nPart I \u2014 Harbor, marine barracks, American soldier life;\nPart II \u2014 Crum Bay, barracks, native types;\nPart III \u2014 Island of St. John, ruins of estates of old Dutch planters. (20, 164)\nIn the Wake of Buccaneers (1) Pictorial tour of the West Indies. (170)\nGeography\nRadio-r^:.:-MAT\nTalk from your screen.\nWITH your quickly TYPEWRITTEN MESSAGES,\n50 RADIO-MATS $2.\nWhite, Amber or Green.\nAccept no substitute.\nis the Stationery of the Screen\nGROUP 59\nIslands \u2014 Pacific\nCatalina (1) \"Pearl of the Pacific\" \u2014 its underwater life; pelican, seal and other odd dwellers in the island. (27, 133)\nHawaii the Beautiful (1) Miscellaneous scenes of islands and their industries. (109)\nHawaii Today (1) Scenic trip from Los Angeles to Hawaii showing present scenic wonders and industries. (114)\nHello Hawaii (1) Honolulu and Waikiki Beach scenes; Kilauea Volcano Hawaiian Shores (y\u00b1) Lovely vistas of Hawaii. <@23)\nIsle of Perpetual Sunshine (1) Waikiki Beach and Hawaii. (164)\nHawaii (1) Scenic features; sugar cane plantations; native dances. (164)\nHigh Spots of Hawaii (1) Beauties of waterfalls and lava forests; glimpses of coffee and sugar. (164)\nCascades of Luzon (1/3) Up the Pagsanjan River in Jungles of Luzon in native canoes; dangers, rapids and whirlpools. (Copyright 20)\nVenice of the Orient (1) Delightful visit to Manila; harbor and fortifications; details of native and foreign life. (#20)\nThe Philippines (Series of 5, 1 reel each) I. In a Manila Wrapper II. Gorge of Pagsanjan III. Cane Fields of Colombo IV. Philippine School Days V. Cruising in the Philippines. (72)\nOutposts of Old Glory (1) Scenes of Guam and Philippines. (A153)\nMoana (6) Robert Flaherty's companion picture to \"Nanook of the North,\" recording the customs of the Samoans. Screen classic. (10\")\nFagasa (6) Exploration film on Samoa and the Fijis. (54)\nBali the Unknown (5) Natural color photography of the island; peculiar customs and industries. Exceptionally beautiful. (72, 133)\nThe Battak people of Sumatra (1) - Beautiful valleys where Battaks live; their curious houses; primitive agricultural methods.\nThe Malays of Sumatra (1) - Coast people, traders, cultivators of \"wet rice,\" unique homes; marriage ceremonies.\nIsland of Yesterday (1) - Scenes and native life on island of Sumatra at rubber plantation.\nA Bit of Life in Java (1) - Volcanoes and fertile valleys; relics of former days; dress and habits of people; transportation.\nSouth Seas (6) - Mr. and Mrs. Pinchot explore South Pacific and tell about it. Fascinating account of animals, fish, birds and flora.\nHead Hunters of the South Seas (3) - Cannibal life; native types; active volcano and many other interesting scenes.\nSeventh Edition\nGeology, Physiography and Meteorology\nGroup 60\nGeology, Physiography and Meteorology\nThe Cosmic Drama (3) Reading earth's story from erosion and fossils \u2014 origin of solar system, appearance of life, effects of glacial action, adaptation, types of mankind. (114, 164)\n\nTime (1) Sun Time and how reckoned; lunar time; long and short days and nights. <49 I\n\nScience of Weather Prediction (1) How an observer makes a prediction sheet; measures the amount of rainfall and completes the record. 1*20, 164)\n\nClouds (1) Important types and significance of some of them. (150)\n\nThe Power of the Clouds (1) From a snowflake to an electric dynamo.\n\nLife History of a Stream (1) From a tiny brook we follow the stream to the sea. (49)\n\nThe Sculpture of the Land by Rivers (1) Erosion of land by running water shown in small scale in a laboratory and by views of actual streams. Rivers as Agents in Shaping the Earth's Surface (1) How erosion by rivers shapes the earth's surface.\nThe Work of Rivers: \"Chalk Talk\" - illustrating the evolution of river valleys through youth, maturity, and old age. (131, 164)\nA Study of Niagara - geography and scenery of the region; geologic history of the Falls and Gorge. (9131, 164)\nThe Cycle of Erosion - Progressive development of valleys and regions through youth, maturity, and old age. (109)\nThe Why of a Volcano - Composite cycle of origin and decay through which every volcano must pass. (49)\nEarthquakes - Study of nature, causes and effects; types of wave motion accompanying a quake; method of recording and interpreting seismic phenomena. (4\\*109)\nWhat Causes Earthquakes - Nature, source, and action of earthquakes; phenomena of tidal wave; Japanese earthquake, 1923. (920)\nVolcanoes: How volcanic activity changes the surface of the earth; explosive and quieter types contrasted, mechanics of lava extrusion.\nOur Volcanic Neighbors: Shows how mountain peaks were transformed into Caribbean Islands. (The World's Greatest Volcanoes, p. 1, 11, 164)\nMt. Vesuvius: Crater of the world's greatest volcano. (The World's Greatest Volcanoes, p. 54, 114, 164)\nKilauea's Volcano: Picturization of the famous lakes of fire and views of the seething crater. Prismacolor. (The World's Greatest Volcanoes, p. 27, 164)\nKilauea, the House of Everlasting Fire: Four-mile trip across crater to rim of fire cup; boiling lava and river of fire. (The World's Greatest Volcanoes, p. 20)\nValley of Ten Thousand Smokes: Photographic record of this little-known volcanic region showing results of recent upheaval; famed crater of Mt. Katmai. (*The National Geographic Magazine, v. 59)\nFormation of Volcanoes and Geysers: Diagrams and photography of volcano eruptions and of geysers. (The World's Greatest Volcanoes, p. 131)\nStudy of Existing Glaciers: classifications, origins, motion, characteristics, and their work.\n\nStudy of a Mountain Glacier: origin and growth, rainfall, crevasses, etc. Diagrams show stages in formation.\n\nShore Lines and Shore Development: shapings of coast by waves, currents, erosion and deposition.\n\nStudy of Short Features\u2014Low Shore: how wave-action changes shore of indentations to smoother lines.\n\nStudy of Shore Features \u2014 Bold Shore: rocky shore lines are given greater and more magnificent indentations.\n\nThe Story of Coral Growth: what coral is, where it grows, and the kind of land it helps to make.\n\nThe Work of Underground Water: study of geologic work of underground water and its effect on surface \u2014 caves, sink holes, bridges.\nFormation of Caves in Limestone: Water seeping through the earth's crust wears away the softer parts of rock below the surface.\n\nDigging up the Past: Locating and obtaining skeletons of prehistoric animals in the Badlands of Red Deer Valley, Canada.\n\nThe International Ice Patrol: Of the United States and other nations, designed to safeguard Atlantic shipping from catastrophes, records ocean and iceberg conditions and broadcasts information to ships.\n\nThe International Ice Patrol: The United States and other nations' organization safeguarding Atlantic shipping from catastrophes, recording ocean and iceberg conditions, and broadcasting information to ships.\n\nGroup 61: Government Activities\n\nThe International Ice Patrol: An organization safeguarding Atlantic shipping from catastrophes, recording ocean and iceberg conditions, and broadcasting information to ships (United States and other nations).\n\nThe International Ice Patrol: An international organization safeguarding Atlantic shipping from catastrophes, recording ocean and iceberg conditions, and broadcasting information to ships.\n\nThe Department of Agriculture, Commerce, etc.: Detailed explanation of functions of these departments.\n\nThe Department of Agriculture, Commerce, and other departments: Detailed explanation of their functions.\n\nCharting the Skies: How big kites are used for ascertaining atmospheric conditions at the Aerological Station.\n\nCharting the Skies: Utilizing large kites to determine atmospheric conditions at the Aerological Station.\n\nExploring the Upper Air: Flights by Weather Bureau meteorologists.\n\nExploring the Upper Air: Weather Bureau meteorologists' flights.\nTo study upper air conditions for weather forecasting. (150)\nHelping Negroes become Better Farmers and Homemakers - agricultural extension system among Negro farmers in the South. (150)\nMoney Making Industry - How Canada mints its coinage. (170)\nPan and Ceres in the Movies - Scope and diversity of motion picture work of the Department of Agriculture. (150)\nProduction's Pulse - How government crop reports are made. (150)\nRomance of a Republic - Series of 10, 1 reel each: Insights into the various departments of the government.\nDepartment of State, Department of Treasury, War Department, Department of Justice, Post Office Department, Department of the Navy, Department of the Interior, Department of Agriculture, Department of Commerce, Department of Labor.\nThe Story of the Women's Bureau - History and activities of the Bureau. (1)\nengaged in studying problems and formulating standards pertaining to women's employment (A* 152)\nUncle Sam's Stamp Factory 114 Section of Bureau of Engraving and Printing, showing how stamps are made (#20, 164)\nWatching the Weather Above (2) Aerial activity of Army, Navy and Air Mail Service; forest fire airplane patrols; airplanes in insect patrol; importance of weather forecasting to successful aviation (150)\n\nHistory\nGROUP 62 History\nAcross the Rockies to the Pacific 11 I Final step in the coast-to-coast progress of the United States' sovereignty (#131)\nBattles of the Coronel and Falkland Islands (7) Portrayal of these famous battles of World War but without glorification of war (3)\nBreaking Through the Appalachians 111 Settlers from old colonies started the \"westward movement.\" (#131)\nThe Chronicles of America (Series of 15 Pictures)\nAuthoritative, scholarly series, made by Yale University Press, to depict important episodes and outstanding personalities of American history from Columbus to Columbus: the Story of the great discoverer's struggles, discouragements and ultimate success which resulted in the discovery of a New World.\n\nJamestown (4)\nLife in Jamestown, the first permanent settlement of English people in America. Marriage of Pocahontas and John Rolfe and its effect upon the colony.\n\nVincennes (3)\nThrilling story of George Rogers Clark's expedition into the Northwest during the Revolutionary War, and its far-reaching results.\n\nDaniel Boone (3)\nStory of the early days in Kentucky and the bravery, intrepidity and leadership of the great frontiersman.\n\nThe Frontier Woman (3)\nRevolutionary times in Tennessee, showing the experiences of frontier women.\nThe fortitude, courage, and vision of frontier women.\nPeter Stuyvesant: Old New York and the transfer of Manhattan from the Dutch to the English.\nWolfe and Montcalm: The great battle on the heights of Quebec.\nGateway to the West: Washington at the head of a valiant little band attempting to dislodge the French from Fort Duquesne.\nThe Pilgrims: Their hardships during the first winter on New England shores.\nDeclaration of Independence: Story of the events preceding the Declaration and characterizations of the great men of the day.\nYorktown: The surrender of Cornwallis to the united French and American forces.\nThe Puritans: The establishment of the colony, and their defense of their rights under the leadership of John Winthrop.\nAlexander Hamilton: Highlights of his life. Dixie: Vivid portrayal of sacrifices made by southern women during Civil War. Meeting of Grant and Lee at Appomattox. The Eve of the Revolution: Events leading up to the Revolutionary War; Boston Tea Party, Boston Massacre, ride of Paul Revere, and battles of Lexington and Concord. Colonial Period of New England: Part played by New England states in Colonial Days (164). The Cradle of Confederation: Place where the meeting which resulted in Canada's confederation was held (170). Cradle of the United States: Homes of ancestors in England of Washington, Lincoln, Penn and other builders of our Republic (2). The Declaration of Independence: Explained for lower grade students by photographs and diagrams (58). The Constitution of the United States: Explained for lower grade students (58).\nEnglish Settlements in North America: First English, Dutch, and Swedish settlements; colonizing of English and exploration of French.\n\nFrench Explorations in North America: Main routes of French explorers, traders, and missionaries.\n\nFlashes of the Past: A pictorial record of some outstanding events between 1910 and 1925. Unique in educational value.\n\nGrowth of the United States: Shows expansion and colonization from 1789 to present; use of maps and diagrams.\n\nHistoric New England: A series of reels showing outstanding features of New England in History, Geography, and Economics.\n\nIn the Days of St. Patrick: Produced in Ireland. Historically significant: Louisiana Purchase and Lewis and Clark Expedition. Causes and immediate results of the purchase of Louisiana in 1803.\n[Pilgrims at Plymouth, Story of Pilgrims landing, Administrations of presidents from Washington to Coolidge, Revolutionary Period, Russia, Poland Reborn, Settling the Ohio Valley, Shrines of American History, Story of Plymouth Rock, Struggle of French and English for North America]\n\nPilgrims at Plymouth, Story of the Pilgrims' landing\nAdministrations of presidents from Washington to Coolidge: a few events\nRevolutionary Period: stirring events leading up to the Revolution\nRussia: survey of Russia's history from 1918 to present\nPoland Reborn: survey of Poland's history\nSettling the Ohio Valley: problems faced by pioneers, types of early houses, mills and stores\nShrines of American History: Independence Hall, Valley Forge, Lexington and other cradles of American liberty\nStory of Plymouth Rock: memories of the band that braved the terrors of an unknown wilderness for their ideals\nStruggle of French and English for North America: main campaign movements in the French and Indian War\n[Three Centuries of Massachusetts: events, personalities, historical sites, and aspects of domestic life. Animated maps show settlements. Directed and told by Professor Albert Hart of Harvard. (A* 157)\nToday and Yesterday: contrasting cinematographic record of historic events of the past thirty-five years. (A140)\nTrans-Mississippi Trails: occupation of trans-Mississippi region and immigration to the Central Plains. (\u2022131)\nWar of the American Revolution: great movements traced. (\u2022131)\nHistory \"1000 and One\": more than 400 subjects free & rental. Write for Catalogs. Y.M.C.A. Motion Picture Bureau. New York City, Chicago, 111. Group 63 Historical Fiction. America (10): Griffith production. Memorable incidents well treated]\n\u2014 action at Lexington and Concord: dramatic ride cf Paul Revere. (146) Betsy Ross: 161 Story of Revolution Days, with Alice Brady.\nBolshevism on Trial (61) Thomas Dixon's novel Comrades shows vividly the value of American form of government. (36, 54, 114)\nCalifornia in '49 (6) Picnic days in California \u2014 a covered wagon journey. The Covered Wagon (13) Unqualified praise for this epic of western migration. History vivified on the screen. (107)\nThe Coward (151) Charles Ray in a dramatic story of the Civil War.\nThe Glorious Adventure (171) Victor McLaglen in a Prima color romance of days of King Charles of England. (54)\nThe Heart of Lincoln (51) Romance of Civil War Days founded on an incident typical of Lincoln's self-sacrifice and big-heartedness. (109)\nThe Highest Law 1 4 1 Raluh Ince as Lincoln in a dramatic episode\nIn the Days of Chivalry\nA splendid historical production adapted especially for school use from the motion picture Robin Hood.\nJanice Meredith <12 Much incidental material of historic value \u2014 Boston Tea Party, ride of Paul Revere, Lexington Commons.\nJulius Caesar 1 6 1 The life story of Caesar, his career until he becomes a dictator. Correct in historical detail. (#78)\nThe Lost Battalion I 6 1 An actual story of the great war produced at that time on the Battlefields of France. (54)\nNapoleon and Josephine 1 7 1 The history of the great emperor and the devotion of his empress. Sidelights on figures of the time. (164)\nXorth of '36 (Si Blazing of first Texas trail north of '36. Historic background setting for romance. 1 107\nPlaythings  of  an  Emperor  1 6 1  Based  upon  incidents  and  events  in  the \nlife  of  Napoleon.  (164) \nRobin  Hood  (9)  Splendid  rendition  of  medieval  story  of  chivalry  and \nromance.     Photographed   in   remarkable   settings.     Douglas   Fail  banks. \nSymbols  and  reference-numbers  are  explained  on  page  3. \nSeventh  Edition        INDUSTRY  AND  ENGINEERING  49 \nINDUSTRY  AND  ENGINEERING \nGROUP  64  Electricity  Cables \nBusiness  in  Great  Waters  (2)  Picturing  the  laying  of  the  fastest  sub- \nmarine cable  ever  made  between  Newfoundland  and  the  Azores.  (A162) \nFeatures  of  High  Voltage  Cable  (1)  A  talk  showing  progress  made \nin  high  voltage  cable.     Samples  of   various   types.  (A61,  \u202261) \nLaying  the  World's  Fastest  Ocean  Cablbe  Off  Newfoundland  (2)  In- \ncidents filmed  during  work  of  connecting  England  and  America.  (162) \nLaying  of  Electrical  Cable  Across  San  Francisco  Bay  (1)  Self-explana- \n[The Supreme Story of the Manufacture and Erection of Hudson River Bridge (5), The Hudson River Bridge: Speeding Up Our Deep Sea Cables (2), Group 65 Radio: Listening In (1), The Magic of Communication (1), Man-Made Miracles: The Complete Story of the Manufacture of Radio Tube (1), Mystery Box: Analysis in Motion Picture Photography and Animated Drawings of Basic Principles of Radio (920), Wireless Telephony: How Sound Waves are Carried by Electric Waves and Re-converted into Sound Waves Thousands of Miles from the Source (2), The Wizardry of Wireless: History of Communication and Explanation]\nby animated drawings of principles involved in wireless (*61) (See also Group 83)\nGROUP 66 Telephone and Telegraph\nConcerning Crossarms (1) Something about the branches of our trees of speech. (170)\nThe Electrical Transmission of Speech (1) Fundamentals involved in transmission and reception of voice over wire circuits. (162, 170)\nHow the Telephone Talks (1) Principles of communication; details of transmitter and receiver; diagrams and technical drawings. (*20)\nThe Inside Story of Your Telephone (2) Gathering and utilization of 15 of raw products used in manufacture of telephone. (162, 170)\nA Name Makes the Rounds (1) Story of telephone installation. (170)\nNow You're Talking (1) An animated cartoon illustrating harm that may result from improper handling of telephone. (170)\nPictures by Wire (1) Explanation of sending of pictures over telephone.\nA Prophecy Fulfilled (1) History of the telephone. (157, 170)\nPutting a Telephone Together Trick photography. (162, 170)\nShort Cuts to Quantity Few examples of achievements of mass production of telephones without sacrifice of quality. (162, 170)\nSomething about Switchboards Unusual processes in fabricating and installing equipment for telephone exchange. (162)\nThe Telephone Repeater Operation of a vacuum tube as a telephone repeater which amplifies the voice current at intervals. (162)\nThat Little Big Fellow Functions of electric current in the making of a telephone call; animation. (9151, 9110)\nVoices Across the Sea Telephone bridges miles between the United States and England. (170)\nThe World's Telephone Workshop Photographic side-lights of unusual manufacturing processes. (162, 170)\nFind distributors by reference-numbers (pages 129-ff.)\nIndustry and Engineering Group 67 Electricity General\nBack of the Button Visualizing the tremendous power at work behind the little electric button.\nThe Conductor Making of lamp cord.\nElectric Heat in Industry Use of electric heat in treatment of auto parts and various manufacture processes.\nThe Electric Ship Trip from New York to San Francisco aboard the new all-electric liner, Virginia; features of equipment. (A61, #61)\nThe Induction Voltage Regulator Features and functions. (961)\nLight of a Race Principal steps in development of artificial illumination from earliest beginnings to incandescent lamp. (#61)\nMaking Mazda Lamps Development of artificial lighting and steps in manufacture. (#61)\nThe Manufacture of Electric Blasting Caps Process of manufacture. (1)\nPortable Electricity (2) Theory, manufacture and applications of the Edison Nickel-Iron Alkaline storage battery. (\"The Story of a Storage Battery\" (2) Its various uses and how it is manufactured. (148))\nThe Vacuum-Tube Synchronizing Equipment (1) Operation when \"tying-in\" inter-connecting power systems; advance made in operation. (61)\nYours to Command (1) Shows services of electricity \u2014 power and light as used by industries, commerce and in the home. (128)\nEngineering Achievements\nGROUP 68 Engineering Achievements\nAir (1) Electric ventilation in homes, offices, public buildings and mines. (\"The Explosive Engineer\" (2) Modern application of explosives in the industrial world. (68, 148))\nA Long Step Forward (1) New permissible explosive which produces lump coal equal to that produced with black powder. (*68)\nBuilding New York's Newest Subway: Uses of dynamite in subway construction. (#46, 96)\nNational Parks and East River Tunnels: Contrast between works of nature and mechanical achievements of today. (21, 164)\nAmerica's Great Bridge: Technical study of tests made to determine strength of modern reinforced arch bridge. (150)\nA Concrete Example: American leadership in the construction of big projects. (2)\nThis is the Age of Riveted Steel: Various uses of riveted steel in engineering construction. (65, 128)\nFrom Swamps to Workshops: Story of building Western Electric's new cable and switchboard manufacturing works. (162, 170)\nFrom Caves to Skyscrapers: Development of man's habitations and places of worship. (109)\nSwapping Foundations Under Skyscrapers: Illustrated with animated drawings. (164)\nConquest of the Cascades: Interesting features of the new Cascades. (1)\nTunnel and its contribution to better transportation between the East and Pacific Northwest (A61)\nConquering the Desert (2) Transportation of trackless waste in Salt River Valley of Arizona into expansive cotton plantation (\u00a963)\nThe Conquest of a Wilderness (3) Scenes before and after construction of big steel plant and city (Gary, Ind.) (154)\nSpending Six Hundred Million a Day (1) Source and uses of New York water supply (^90, 49)\nThe Roosevelt Dam (1) Arid desert land in Arizona turned into fertile farms; finished dam; Roosevelt at dedication in 1913 (170)\nNature's Frozen Credits (3) Building of great water plant in Sierra Nevada mountains of California (170)\nDriving the Longest Railroad Tunnel in the Western Hemisphere (1) Hauling and drilling operations; difficulties met (#46)\n\nSymbols and reference numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition\nADVERTISEMENT \nOur  New  Booklet  Will \nInterest  You \nEducational \nFilm \nService \nWestern  Electric \nIt  contains  illustrated  descriptions  of \nthirty-four  motion  pictures  visualizing \nsome  of  the  interesting  activities  of  one \nof  America's  great  industries. \nAddress \nWestern  Electric  Company \nMOTION  PICTURE  BUREAU \n120  West  41st  Street \nNew  York,  N.  Y. \nINDUSTRY  AND  ENGINEERING \nGROUP  68  (Continued)  Engineering  Achievements \nEngineering  the  Sound  Film  (1)  Shows  development  of  sound  pictures \nto  present  standard.  (A162) \nOut  Where  the  Sound  Begins  (1)  Eye  and  ear  studies  of  highlights  in \nworks  where  telephone  and  talking  picture  equipment  are  made.  (A162) \nMACHINERY  AND  MECHANICAL  DEVICES \nGROUP  69  Electrical \nAlong  the  Firing  Line  (2)  Manufacture  of  spark  plugs,  including \nmanufacture  of  sullimanite  ;  important  part  spark  plugs  play.  (0148) \nAutomatic  Arc  Welding  in  Industry  (2)  Applications  in  the  steel,  auto- \nThe text appears to be in good shape and does not require extensive cleaning. I have removed unnecessary line breaks and extra symbols.\n\nBig Deeds (2): Trip through Schenectady Works of General Electric; shows manufacture of different classes of electric equipment.\nThe Burning Question \u2014 Ignition (2): Self-explanatory.\nRubbing the New Aladdin's Lamp (1): Manufacture of regular blasting caps and delay electric blasting caps.\nThe Story of an Electric Meter (3): Raw material, machining, drilling, and finishing of base; partial assembly of meter; different types and sizes.\nSunshine (1): Carbon arc, artificial sunlight.\nUnseen Values in General Electric Motors (3): Manufacture of induction motor shown in considerable detail.\nGROUP 70 Automotive Machinery\nIn the Service of Transportation (7): Manufacture of automobile buses, motor boats, Pullman cars, etc.\nStory of a Gasoline Motor (3): Animation shows entire function of the motor.\nElements of the Automobile (12) - Animated drawings, mechanical models, and phantom drawings illustrating the inside workings of a motor car.\n\nStory of Lubrication (1) - Principles of lubricating an automobile engine, including heavy and light grade oils under various conditions.\n\nA Horseless Carriage to a Horseless Age (1) - Story of the manufacture of a Studebaker car.\n\nChampions (1) - Visual description of the greatest automobile run in history - 30,000 miles in 26 hours and 326 minutes.\n\nSeparating Facts from Opinions (1) - Research work that goes on behind the scenes in a great automobile factory.\n\nProved (1, 2, and 4) - World's first and greatest proving ground for automotive products. (#128)\n\nSelling Ford Service (2) - 'Service rendered by Ford dealers'\nClimbing Mt. Ben Nevis: A Ford Model A car climbing a mountain. (1)\nA Tour Through the Rouge Plants: Conducted a tour through Ford's factory for the manufacture of a tri-motor plane. (4) (#57)\nThe Power Within: Explains in detail, through animated drawings, the location and operation of each part of a motor. (3) (#148)\nA Day with the Tractor Builders: Analyzes metals in a chemical laboratory and assembles various parts of a tractor. (2) (33, 76)\nA Powerful Friend: Fordson Tractor in industrial activities. (1) (57)\nGROUP 71 Miscellaneous\nG-R-D Dispatching System: An automatic dispatching system in actual operation. (4) (44)\nThe Engine Lathe and Its Operation: Complete assembly of lathe parts, construction, and operation. (7) (#131)\nOur Mechanical Servant \u2014 the Elevator: Principle of hydraulics. (%)\nSeventh Edition\nIndustry and Engineering\nGroup 71 (Continued) Miscellaneous Machinery\nThe Modern Goliath (4) Varied uses of heavy excavating machinery.\nSilica Gel (3) For refrigeration, refining motor-benzol, dehydration gases and vapors. (170)\nStory of Refrigeration (2) Story of ice from modern days to manufacturing of modern refrigerator. (126)\nSeeger Cabinets (2) Construction of modern refrigerator \u2014 porcelain work, wood work and assembling. (122)\nSpeed (2) Story of \"teletype \u2014 typewriting, telegraph and how it figures in modern speed of communication. (128)\nThe Universal Milling Machine and Its Operation (8) Parts and construction; manifold operation. (131)\nOpen and Shut (3) How valves are made and their importance to industry and the home. (148, 170)\n\nGroup 72 Power, Mechanical and Electrical\nThe Age of Speed (4) Story of quickening progress \u2014 the gift of grinding machinery. (132)\nTo civilization (170)\nAlong the St. Maurice CI) Hydro-developments and electro-chemical industries at Shawinigan Falls; pulp and paper industries of Grand (1)\nThe Busy Body (1) Parts comprising the smallest motor, (#61)\nElectric Heart (1) Story of a dynamo. (114)\nHydroelectric Power Production in the New South (2) Power plant.\nMcCormick-Deering Industrial Power (2) Industrial tractor at work in oil fields, at decks, in dense forests, etc. (33, 76, 170)\nMexican Powerhouse (1) Huge dam and powerhouse supplying interior Mexico: uses to which power is put. (133)\nPower Transformers (2) Development and manufacture. (9Q1)\nPower (3) Development of power from earliest uses of steam to great power stations of today. (170)\nPower of Falling Water (1) How power is generated from great falls and distributed. (164)\nThe Principles of Electric Motors (8) The Principles of Magnetism (2) Construction and operation of Bosch magneto. Romance of Power (2) Adaptations of electric power to the needs of man: working methods in all quarters of the globe. The Story of Power (3) Early development of the steam engine and modern uses of electricity; animated photography. The Story of Water Power (2) Primitive methods of utilizing the energy of falling water; how the power of Niagara is changed into energy.\n\nNATURAL PRODUCTS AND PROCESSES\nGROUP 73 Fishing Industry\nBrown Gold (1) The caviar Fisheries of the Black Sea.\nChesapeake Blue Crab (2) Fishing for crab in Maryland.\nChesapeake Bay Oyster (2) Oyster industry in Maryland.\nFresh from the Deep (1) Catching and packing of halibut at Prince Rupert.\nHarvesting the Deep: Gathering cod, haddock, flounders, and other fish off Cape Sable Banks. (170)\nFish Tales: Newfoundland salmon fishing. (14) How Salmon are Caught: Various methods of fishing for British Columbia salmon. (170)\nIndustry and Engineering: \"1000 and One\" Group 73 (Continued) Fishing Industry: Maintaining the Salmon Supply: Salmon hatchery in British Columbia. (36)\nSalmon Fishing in British Columbia: Catching and canning salmon; the complete process of preparing canned salmon for marketing. (164)\nShrimp Industry: The complete story of the industry, including underwater photography of live shrimp. (66)\nSponge Fishers: How sponges are obtained and marketed. (133)\nThe Romance of Oil: Shooting whale and towing back to port; oil gushers in Texas. (#20)\nShe Blows: Whale hunting in the Pacific.\nTrapping Tuna: Industry on east coast of Canada.\nFrom Catch to Can: The sardine industry.\nFish and Fowls: Conservation of fish in inland waters; industry supplying markets with deep water fish.\nGROUP 74: Lumbering and Forest Products\nConquest of the Forest: Felling trees and manufacturing lumber.\nCedar Camps in Cloudland: Scenic survey of the pole-making industry.\nThe Doings of Turp and Tine: Animated comedy showing production of gum and Hercules steam-distilled wood turpentine. (#68, #170)\nThe Drive is On: Lumbering.\nDual-Purpose Trees: Naval stores industry of the South, including wood practices, distillation and marketing; plea for reforestation. (162)\nDynamite, the Master Lumberjack: Blasting materials in lumber production. (46)\nFrom Cedar Trails: Cedar pole industry (162, 170)\nFelling Forest Giants: Lumbering in Carolinas and the Northwest; various methods of handling (#109)\nFrom Tree to Trade: Modern manufacture of lumber from standing timber to finished product (83)\nLumbering in the Pacific Northwest: Douglas Fir lumber manufacturing; electrically operated lumber manufacturing plants (83)\nOil, the Wood Preserver: Cargo of creosote oil from pumping in Mississippi to forcing into yellow pine poles for telephone system (162, 170)\nOut of the Deep Woods of Dixie: Preparing southern yellow pine trees and crossarms for telephone service (162, 170)\nPole Pushers of Puget Sound: Views of northwestern cedar industry, showing many amusing and thrilling incidents (170)\nThe Story of a Stick: Manufacture of yellow pine from tree to finished product; in story form.\nThe Teak Logging with Elephants: In Upper Siam.\nTeak Wooding in Siam: Self-explanatory.\nThe Trail of the Longleaf Pine: Yellow pine forests of far South and how these trees are utilized for telephone timber. (157, 162, 170)\nTreating the Tall Timbers: Operations required to convert giants of the forest into useful adjuncts of civilization. (162, 170)\nWildwood Workers: Preparing yellow pine trees for public service use; activities of sawyers, axemen, teamsters and boatmen. (162, 170)\n\nGROUP 75 Mining\u2014 Coal, Oil and Gas\nAnthracite: Early mining of coal and various methods employed today in shaft, slope and drift mining. (#61)\nAnthracite Coal: Origin of coal; location, mining methods, production. (96)\nBituminous: Principal operations in mining and preparation of bituminous coal; primitive and modern methods contrasted. (#61)\nBlack Magic: How coal was formed, uses in our modern civilization and workings of a huge strip coal mining company. (122)\nSeventh Edition INDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING GROUP 75 (Continued) Mining: \u2014 Coal, Oil and Gas\nBlack Sunlight: Coal formation a million years ago until today in animation; actual photography of anthracite mining. (#20)\nThe Burning Question \u2014 Coal: Anthracite mining, preparation and transportation. (\u2022170)\nCoal Mining: Process of sub-surface mining. (#20, 36, 164)\nHappy Hearths: Making of briquettes in North Dakota. (122)\nFord Way of Coal Mining: Industrial and social conditions of a Ford mine. (57)\nOrigin of Coal and Coal Mining: Animated drawings showing the origin of today's coal mines and the process of sub-surface mining (164).\n\nStory of a Rock-Dusted Coal Mine: Demonstrates how rock-dusting prevents explosions in mines; views of rock-dusting machine (148).\n\nThe Wonders of Anthracite: Explores geology, history, mining, and preparation of anthracite coal (A\u00ae 44, \u2022157, #170).\n\nFuel: Description of how peat, coal, and petroleum are extracted from the earth (164).\n\nStory of Gasoline: Discusses drilling, transportation, and refining of gasoline (148).\n\nThe Story of Petroleum: Explanation of mapping oil-bearing structures, use of seismograph and torsion balance, drilling techniques, operation of pumping wells, transportation of crude oil, and laying of pipelines; treatment and refining of crude oil (148).\nMexican Oil: Boring, tanking, piping, and shipping. Oil Tydings: Boring, piping, and refining of oil. Refining the Crude: Crude petroleum from oil well to refinery through distillation. The Story of Lubricating Oil: Manufacture and use of petroleum lubricant. The Story of a Mexican Oil Gusher: Discovery of a bubbling seepage of petroleum in Mexican jungle; stages in drilling well. The Story of a Rotary Drilled Oil Well: Animated drawings show operation of drilling well and \"bringing in\" of oil. Through Oil Fields of Mexico: General views around oil fields. Through Oil Lands of Europe and Africa: Beautiful and picturesque views of countries; study in oil. Group 1 \u2013 oil supply of Italy, Hungary, Danube, Romania; Group 2 \u2013 Poland.\nGroup 3: Greece, Egypt, Germany, France, Spain, Morocco, Algeria\n\nGROUP 76: Mining-- Miscellaneous\nThe Story of Asbestos (Part 3): Mining and cobbing of asbestos fiber; factory views; testing of asbestos roofing. (148)\nThe Story of Copper (5 parts, may be used separately): Prospecting\nAcres of Diamonds and Miles of Gold: Where 80% of the world's diamonds and 53% of the world's gold is provided. (170)\nGold Mining in the Klondike: Old and modern methods of gold mining. (164)\nSafety in the Use of Explosives in Open Pit Iron Mining (I): Safety practices used in Minnesota iron mines. (68, 148)\nMagic Gems (Part 1): Study of minerals and precious stones; Prism color.\nA Visit to the Nitrate Fields of Chile: Shows nitrate fields in South America and how nitrate is prepared for shipment. (46)\nSalt Industry of Formosa (Part 1): Aspects and various types of toilers.\nprimitive methods of gathering salt. (164) Pillars of Salt: How salt is mined and refined. (#61, 170) The Story of Sulphur: From its source to ultimate uses. (164) The Story of Sulphur: Method of mining in America and uses.\n\nIndustry and Engineering (1000 and One)\nGROUP 77 Quarrying\nModern Quarry Blasting (1) Practices shown in detail. (#68)\nDynamite in Quarry Work (1) Self-explanatory. (46)\nGranite Block Paving (1) From quarry to pavement. (150)\nThe Marble Industry (1) New Hampshire quarries. (27)\nA Sculptor's Paradise (1) Quarrying Carrara marble and noted buildings constructed from it. (58)\nQuarrying and Shaping Slate (2) Nature's product of manifold utility. (See also Group 83)\n\nMANUFACTURED PRODUCTS AND PROCESSES\nGROUP 78 Building Materials\n[The Story of Portland Cement: Processes of making Portland Cement, Portland Cementing the Centuries, Story of Alpha Cement (157, 170)\nThe Manufacture of Face Brick: Manufacture and use, shows fire clay refractories, Storage yards and kilns, and mines where fire clay is obtained. Making of brick, molding of fire clay (#148)\nFrom Pigs to Paint: Story of Dutch Boy White Lead (170)\nThe Story of White Lead: Process by which a familiar product is made \u2014 paint, that figures in exterior and interior finish (128)\nStory of Stone: Self-explanatory (170)\nThe Craftsmanship of Stucco Texture: Method of applying different stucco textures and tools used in creating them (33)\nAll the Way with Wallpaper: Title tells it (170)\nThe Background: Manufacture and application of wall covering (1)]\nComfortable Homes (2) Interesting data on \"wide-blind stop\" patented feature; of interest to lumber dealers and home builders (#122)\nThe Heat Thief (2) Ills of certain heating systems and cure; comedy starring Ann Pennington (170)\nSaving Coal at Home (1) Emphasizes advantages and money-saving possibilities of insulating house-heating pipes with asbestos (148)\nStandardization of Window Frames (1) Trip through modern window frame factory (9122)\nThe Transformation (2) Drama depicting rehabilitation of a family through modernization of an old home (*170)\nGroup 79 Clothing, Textiles and Leather\nThe Art of Spinning and Weaving (2) Development of hand spinning; principles of weaving (157)\nCivilization's Fabric (2) Cotton from field to mill; spinning and weaving (#60)\nFluff to Stuff (1) Cotton industries from field to loom (164)\nGlove Making (2) Complete process of modern glove manufacture.\nLace (1) Views of unusual laces; some historic pieces.\nLace Making in France C1/^) Le Puy, world's lace-making center.\nFrom Cocoon to Kimona (1) Silk industry of Japan. (\"23, 164)\nFrom Cocoon to Spool (1) Manufacture of silk. (\"170)\nSilken Cities of Japan (1) Modern process of reeling silk and spooling in large establishments. (164)\nThe Romance of Silk (1) Culture of silk \u2014 part of film made in Japan, in natural colors. (81, 157)\nSilk Manufacturing (1) From cocoon to ribbon. (35)\nThe Romance of Rayon (2) How it is made. (157, 170)\nSymbols and reference-numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition INDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING 57\nSOUND AND SILENT FILMS\nSilent motion pictures on 16mm. and 35mm. film, and sound pictures on 35mm. film are distributed by General\nElectric for the classroom and non-theatrical field. there is no charge except for cost of transportation. Write the nearest General Electric office for Catalog GES-402A.\n\nSchenectady, NY: 1405 State Street, Dallas, Texas: 140 Federal Street, Salt Lake City, Utah: 329 Alder St., Philadelphia, Pa: 1405 Locust Street, Boston, Mass: Portland, Oregon, Chicago: 111, Cleveland, Ohio: Atlanta, Ga, Dept. of Visual Instruction, University of California, Berkeley, CA (Service charge of fifty cents a reel from this office: GENERAL!\u00ae ELECTRIC. GROUP 79)\n\nClothing, Textiles, Leather\nThe Making of a Turkish Towel (Complete process from picking of cotton to drawing of designs, making of patterns, weaving, cutting and packing. *44)\n\nMartex (1) Making of a Turkish towel. (\u2022170)\nWool (1) Comprehensive story from fleece to finished cloth. (#58)\nA Woolen Yarn: From shearing of sheep to weaving of fabric.\nThe Reading Full-Fashioned Knitting Machine in Action: Operation of machine making full-fashioned hosiery; slow motion and mechanographs. (*44)\nThe Making of Shoes: Self-explanatory. (164)\nShoes: Complete summary of shoe industry. (\u202258)\nThe Story of Leather: Self-explanatory. (164, 170)\nFrom Hide to Leather: Manufacture of shoes in New England. (164)\nThe Muskrat Industry of Maryland: From trap to coat. (84)\nThe Story of Chase Velvet: Mohair from angora goat to lustrous fabric. (2)\nThe Making of Twine: Processes in making of a ball of twine; with some scenes taken in Yucatan. (33, 76, 170)\nTwo Ends of a Rope: Hemp plantation with cutters; unsheathing stalk; hemp rope-making in Manila. (\u202223, 164)\n\nGroup 80 Food Products\nAcross Seven Seas: To Java for cultivation of Cassava Palm from which tapioca is made; refining it in New England factory. (1)\nAlice in Cookieland: Trip to a great cookie factory with plenty of laughs for the kiddies. (1)\nCrystals of Commerce: Formation of crystals and how they are used in one of our most necessary food products. (1)\nFilling the World's Cereal Bowl: How Kellogg cornflakes and All-Bran are prepared. (2)\nFood Shot from Guns: Growth of rice in Orient and United States; unique transformation process of puffing grains. (1)\nTen Pounds to the Bushel: Growing of oats and manufacture of rolled oats. (1)\nThe Conspiracy: \"Breyer Kids\" in a comical epidemic. (1)\nDoctor and Grandma reminisce on \"old fashioned ice cream.\" (170)\nMillion Dollar Food Product (1) Ice Cream. (170)\nOur National Dessert (1) Manufacture of ice cream in a modern plant; nourishing qualities of ice cream and value as food. (\u2022100)\nFountain of Youth (1) Manufacture of ginger ale. (102)\nAdventures of Mazola (1) Self-explanatory. (170)\nMilk Mischief (1/3) Principal ways milk can become impure and dangerous. (#53)\nMilk (1) Various processes which transform pure cow's milk into Carnation products. (#26, 170)\nGroup 81 Metal Manufacturing\nThe Story of Iron (5) World production of iron and sources in U.S.; prospecting by test pits and drill; mining by open-pit method; crushing, milling, transportation; casting of pig iron. (#148)\nIron and Steel (1) Evolution from mine to finished product. (57, 164)\nThe Story of Steel: Basic processes of making steel. (170)\nThe Story of Steel and Wire Products: From mining of ore to finished products. (10)\nThe Story of Steel: Reels 1 and 2 show basic processes of steel-making from ore to ingot; reel 3, manufacturing of rails, plate and other hot-rolled products; reel 4, manufacturing of wire products; reel 5, manufacture of lap-weld pipe; reel 6, manufacture of steel sheets.\nMaking Illinois Alloy Steel: Interesting and entertaining subject.\nHeat Treatment of Steel: Method of heat treatment in modern furnaces where temperature is regulated automatically. (#148)\nMaking it Tough: Complete cycle of alloy-steel \"heat\" in open-hearth furnace; casting ingots of alloy steel and rolling into bars; properties of alloy steels and uses. (*148)\nTitles of:\n1. Entire process of converting scrapped steel rails into railroad ties: Ties from Scrap Steel Rails\n2. Various processes through which ore becomes steel: The Making of Steel\n3. Making of new railroad rails and their later use in concrete reinforcing bars: The Story of Rail Steel\n4. Manufacture of wrought steel pipe from mining ore to shipment of finished product: Arteries of Industry\n5. Manufacture of lap welded pipe: The Manufacture of Lap Welded Pipe\n6. Drawing of wire and manufacture of products \u2013 nails, fence, barbed wire and rope: The Manufacture of Wire Products\n7. Continuous process of making steel sheets: The Continuous Process of Making Steel Sheets\n8. Self-explanatory: The Manufacture of Steel Sheets and Tin Plate.\nHot Rolled Products: Rails, structural steel, and heavy plates.\nMaking of American Wire Rope and Its Uses: A story of wire rope manufacture.\nBlue Center: The story of wire rope manufacture.\nNational Dirt-Set Post: Testing and installing new style steel posts for fences.\nFrom Mine to Consumer: Mining, smelting and refining of copper and fabrication of its alloys.\nThe Story of the Fabrication of Copper: Rolling and drawing copper rod and wire; rolling of copper sheets; testing strength of copper wire and cable.\nLong Drawn Out: A picture journey through copper wire mill.\n\nPigs of Lead: Mining and smelting processes.\nStory of Lead Smelting: Self-explanatory.\nStory of Lead Mining and Milling (1.3.1) Drilling, blasting and processing of lead ore; operations at the mill.\nManufactured Abrasives (3) Carborundum industry.\nThe Story of Monel Metal (2) Various phases in the manufacture of monel metal and its many uses in industry and the home.\nIndustrious Diamonds (11) Role in making copper wire.\nThe Jewels of Industry (2) Manufacture of modern abrasives and their applications.\nThe Silversmith (1) Production of silverware \u2014 from ore to things of beauty and utility. (21, 114, 164)\nGroup 82 Paper and Publications\nModern Paper Making (4) Making of book paper from logging to finished product. (\u202244.)\nWhen Trees Talk (1) Paper industry and forest preservation.\nThe World of Paper (2) Epoch-making advances in the art of writing, printing and paper-making from ancient to modern times. (\u202261)\n[Chronicle of Time (3): Story of a newspaper, granite industry and making paper. (122)\nNewsprint Paper (1): From standing forest to finished product. (Seeing the Sun 11, 2 and 3) Complete story of modern newspaper plant from early history of printing through airplane. (\u2022136)\nThe Voice of Business (3): Making of paper from raw material to finished product. (1157, 170)\nThe Making of a Great Newspaper (1 3): Complete process \u2014 gathering news, transferring copy from paper to metal and back, etc. (\u00a9129)\nFrom Trees to Tribunes (3): Every phase of making of Chicago Tribune from timberlands to delivery of complete papers. (170)\nThe Romance of the News (2): Story of one great news-gathering agency of the world \u2014 Associated Press. (109)\nYour Book <2 1>: Evolution of the book; how books are made today at Athenaeum Press. (#129)]\nMaking a Sales Book (1) From making of electrotype to finished book. The Record Makers of Business I & II Manufacture of carbon papers and inked ribbons. (28)\n\nGroup 83 Miscellaneous Manufacture\nBehind the Pyramids (3) Making of carbon brushes for electric motors and generators. (170)\nSomething New Under the Sun (2) Camera study of action of carboloy, hard-as-diamond cutting edge for high speed tools. (1)\nThe Story of Bakelite Resinoid (1, 2) Portrayal of chemistry underlying manufacture of bakelite materials; varied uses. (17, 128, 170)\nBirth of a Nation's Fishing Tackle (1, 1) Manufacture of fish rods at factory of Montague Rod & Reel Co. (14)\nEnamelware (2) Highlights in manufacture of the bathtub. (170)\nRomance of Glass (1) Discovery of glass; manufacture of glass jars; comparing hand-blowing with modern machine methods. (170, 36)\nManufacture of Inner Tubes: Just how the modern balloon tire is made. (122)\nThe Story of a Tire: Made on Arizona plantations and in Sumatra. (1)\nThe Story of Goodyear: Interesting phases of a great rubber company from gathering raw product to finished commodities. (Sl)\nThe Story of Rubber: Manufacture of rubber from plantation to finished products, tires, etc. (44)\nThe Modern Hercules: Manufacture of dynamite and gelatine dynamite. (\u2022eg. 170)\nINDUSTRY AND ENGINEERING \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 83 (Continued) Miscellaneous Manufacture\nThe Story of Dynamite: Manufacture from raw materials to finished product; work of explosives in mining and construction work. (46, 148)\nThe Story of Nitrocellulose: Complete process of manufacture; its uses in lacquers, etc. (#68)\nTesting of Smokeless Powders: Test for recoil, pattern, velocity, and uniformity. (#68)\nManufacture and Testing of Smokeless Powders: A technical depiction for sportsmen. (46)\nGlimpses of the Remington Factory: Important processes in manufacturing Remington typewriters. (170)\nWorld's Records \u2014 The Story Your Ink Bottle Tells: Manufacture of inks and adhesives. (1, 2)\nMan's Greatest Heritage: Ways and means of recording thought from ancient times to present; development of the alphabet. (#28, 170)\nHow a Dixon Lead Pencil is Made: From graphite mines to finished product. (1, 2)\nBuilding Quality into Cream Separators: Modern manufacturing plant where ball bearing cream separators are made. (33, 76, 170)\nThe Making of a Good Shovel: Manufacture of hand shovels from raw materials to finished product. (#44)\nFor the Feet of a Nation: Composition and manufacture of linoleum. (#44)\nTitle: Your Sixth Sense (1)\n\n1. Effect of Temperature on Human Beings: Origin of Thermometer and Method of Calibration.\n2. Charms and Tooth Brushes: Trip through Factory of World's Leading Toothbrush Manufacturer.\n3. Playthings of Childhood: Manufacture of Toys.\n4. Making National Cash Registers: Machining Operations of Making a National Cash Register.\n5. A Trip Through Filmland: Cinema Tour of Kodak Park: Manufacture of Film Stock from Raw Materials to Finished Strip. (#44,  \u2022157)\n6. Motion Pictures and How They Are Made: Showing Progressively Each Step from \"Location\" through Every Laboratory Process. (#69)\n7. Time: Story within a Story; How Correct Time is Recorded by Scientists and How Modern Watchmaking is Accomplished. ('\u2022164. 29, 114)\n8. The House of Wonders: Making of a Modern Machine-Made Precision Timepiece. ('\u202233)\nThe Immortal Voice: Study of mechanical make-up of a victrola record\nThe Fine Art of Making Musical Instruments: Making first saxophone by Sax in his old French workshop; manufacture of modern instruments\nDiamond Cutters of Amsterdam: Diamond in the rough; various stages of cutting and polishing\nGem Cutting and Polishing: Visit to work shop of New York gem cutter\nMaking Wear-Ever Cooking Utensils: Title tells it\nManufacture of Willow Hampers: Production in England\nPottery: Group 84 Industrial Arts\nMagic Clay: Method of making Rookwood pottery in workshops: Prizma color\nThe Lennox Pottery: Production of fine pottery by modern methods\nThe Potter's Wheel: Porcelain for electrical uses\nPorcelain Industry in Czecho-Slovakia: Process from common clay\nTo finish hand-painted lustrous china. (131)\nStory of the Willow Plate (1)\nUnique and artistic presentation of the Chinese design. (78)\n(See also Group 55)\nSymbols and reference-numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition Literature and Drama\nLiterature and Drama\nGroup 85 - Literature and Drama\nAmerican Author Series (Series of 12) - Brief sketch of each author's life and dramatization of one or more of their best-known works. (114, 164)\nWilliam Cullen Bryant (1) - Interpretation of lines from Thanatopsis and The Crowded Street.\nJames Fenimore Cooper (1) - Scenes which formed settings for Leatherstocking Tales.\nRalph Waldo Emerson (1) - Scenes connected with his life and interpreting poems.\nNathaniel Hawthorne (1) - Dramatization of The House of Seven Gables.\nOliver Wendell Holmes (1) - Biography; dramatization of The Height of the Ridiculous.\nWashington Irving: Views of his home and characteristic scenes from Rip Van Winkle and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Sketch of his life; scenes from The Village Blacksmith. James Russell Lowell: Biography; scenes of The Courtin'. Edgar Allan Poe: With the acting cut of Annabel Lee. Mark Twain: Scenes his writings made famous; dramatization of The Jumping Frog. Walt Whitman: Effort to put his philosophy in film form. John Greenleaf Whittier: Lines from The Barefoot Boy and Maud Muller. English Author Series: Brief sketch of the following authors: The Brownings, Robert Burns, Charles Dickens, George Eliot, Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Walter Scott, William Shakespeare, Percy B. Shelley, Robert Louis Stevenson, Alfred Lord Tennyson. Alice in Wonderland: Screen version of Lewis Carroll's well-known novel.\nAlice Through the Looking Glass, a sequel to Alice in Wonderland.\nAnnabel Lee, an exquisite production based on Edgar Allan Poe's poem.\nAntony and Cleopatra, the classic story.\nAs You Like It, Shakespeare's poem.\nAunt Tabitha, a poem by O. W. Holmes.\nBirds of Killingworth, dramatization from Longfellow's poem of our feathered friends.\nBlack Beauty, screen version of the book.\nBleak House, \"Dickens atmosphere\" recreated. (72, 164)\nA Christmas Carol, taken from Charles Dickens' story. (1 and 3)\nCinderella, screen version of the well-known classic. (109)\nThe Corsican Brothers, Alexander Dumas' classic featuring Dustin Farnum. (54)\nCourtship of Myles Standish, dramatization of Longfellow's poem, geographically and historically correct. (49, 54, 77, 92, 114)\n[The Cricket on the Hearth: A Charles Dickens Story featuring Josef; Days We Love: An adaptation from James Whitcomb Riley's poem; The Deerslayer: James Fenimore Cooper's famous classic; Dombey and Son: Charles Dickens' classic (54, 114); Fagin: Dramatic characterization of master thief from Dickens' Oliver Twist (72, 164); Flanders Field: Based on the immortal poem (114); Great Expectations: A Dickens story (164); Hamlet: Shakespeare's masterpiece beautifully presented (21); Hansel and Gretel: Hans Christian Anderson fairy story (54, 114); The Headless Horseman: Adapted from Washington Irving's Legend of Sleepy Hollow, with Will Rogers as Ichabod Crane (21); Find distributors by reference -numbers (pages 129-ff.); LITERATURE AND DRAMA \"1000 and One\"]\n\nText cleaned.\nHeidi of the Alps (2) Filmed in Switzerland in Prizma color. From the children's story by Spyri. (49, 54, 133)\nHomer's Odyssey (3) Oldest epic in the world \u2014 adventures of Ulysses.\nThe Hoosier Schoolmaster (6) Edward Eggleston's classic of a settler\nThe Hunting Ground of Hiawatha (1) Longfellow's poem in pictures.\nThe Idyll (1) Tennyson's poem. (54)\nI Remember (2) Based on Thomas Hood's poem. (49)\nIvanhoe (5) Sir Walter Scott's classic. (54, 114)\nThe Jack-Knife Man (7) Ellis Parker Butler's story of spiritual achievement in a quaint mid-western hamlet. (21, 36, 49, 54, 72, 114, 164)\nKidnapped (5) R.L. Stevenson's story. (\u202278)\nKipling's Mandalay (4) The spell of the Orient and a picturesque\nLast Days of Pompeii (6) The classic story. (*78)\nLast of the Mohicans (6) James Fenimore Cooper's story. (54)\nLes Miserables (1), The Little Match Girl (1) - Victor Hugo's essentials; Hans Andersen's tale of the ragged child with a happy ending.\nLittle Orphant Annie (5) - James Whitcomb Riley's classic featuring Lorna Doone (5) - Richard B. Blackmore's famous story.\nMacbeth (1) - A few tense moments from Shakespeare's play. (72, 164)\nThe Man Without a Country (8) - Edward Everett Hale's story filmed in exact historical settings. (54, 72)\nMary Tudor (3 and 6) - Picture version of the book. (54, 72)\nThe Merchant of Venice (1) - Highlights from Shakespeare's play.\nMerry Wives of Windsor (2) - Shakespeare's liveliest comedy. (164)\nMy Own United States (6) - From the well-known story by Edward Everett Hale of \"The Man Without a Country.\" (49)\nNancy (1) - Famous character from Oliver Twist portrayed. (72, 164)\nOld Curiosity Shop, taken in exact locale described by Charles Dickens. (72)\nOld Oaken Bucket, after the poem by Samuel Woodworth. (49)\nOld Scrooge, characterization of the miser in A Christmas Carol. (3)\nOliver Twist, portrayal of Dickens' story. (72)\nThe Only Way, rendering of Dickens' Tale of Two Cities. (146)\nPeck's Bad Boy, picturization of famous story of late Governor Peck. (5)\nPeter Pan, Barrie's story done as only the movies could do it. (10)\nPied Piper of Hamelin, production of Browning's poem. (*78)\nPilgrim's Progress, dream of John Bunyan. (4)\nPippa Passes, Robert Browning's poem. (114)\nRide of Paul Revere, made famous by Longfellow. (#78, 49)\nRobinson Crusoe, presentation of Daniel Defoe's story. (6, 67)\nRomeo and Juliet, Shakespeare's poem. (114)\nThe Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, famous Persian poem, starring\nRamon (54, 114)\nSchool for Scandal (2) - Richard Brinsley Sheridan's popular play (164)\nScrooge (1) - After the story by Dickens (49, 72, 164)\nShe Stoops to Conquer (2) - Oliver Goldsmith's sparkling comedy (164)\nThe Ship (6) - D'Annunzio's great tragedy La Nave, a romance of the birth of Venice with Ida Rubenstein, the celebrated danseuse (164)\nSilas Marner (7) - Screen version of George Eliot's classic\nThe Sky Pilot (7) - Colleen Moore in Ralph Connor's classic\nSpartacus (6) - The classic story (#78)\nA Tale of Two Cities (1) - Highlights from Dickens' dramatic story (164)\nTaming of the Shrew (2) - Shakespeare's delightful comedy (164)\nThe Three Musketeers (5) - Alexander Dumas' historical novel (21, 72)\n\nRamon (54, 114)\nSchool for Scandal - Richard Brinsley Sheridan's popular play (164)\nScrooge - After the story by Dickens (49, 72, 164)\nShe Stoops to Conquer - Oliver Goldsmith's sparkling comedy (164)\nThe Ship - D'Annunzio's great tragedy La Nave, a romance of the birth of Venice with Ida Rubenstein (164)\nSilas Marner - Screen version of George Eliot's classic\nThe Sky Pilot - Colleen Moore in Ralph Connor's classic\nSpartacus - The classic story (#78)\nA Tale of Two Cities - Highlights from Dickens' dramatic story (164)\nTaming of the Shrew - Shakespeare's delightful comedy (164)\nThe Three Musketeers - Alexander Dumas' historical novel (21, 72)\n\nTimothy's Quest (7) - Kate Douglas Wiggins' simple homespun story.\nTwelfth Night (Shakespeare's poem, 114 lines)\nVanity Fair (Thackeray's story, 78 and 164 pages)\nThe Vicar of Wakefield (Screen version of Goldsmith's classic, 21, 49, 72, and 114 pages)\nThe Village Blacksmith (From Longfellow's poem, 49, 72, and 164 lines)\nWilliam Tell (Play enacted by villagers from Tell's native village, 1 play)\nA Winter's Tale (Picturization of poem, 72 lines)\nNATURAL SCIENCE\nGROUP 86\nPlant Life\nAristocrats of the Flower World (Study of orchids \u2013 origin, propagation and method of obtaining food and water, #20)\nBattle of the Plants (Struggle of plants in hedgerow, field and garden, shown at twenty thousand times normal speed, 1 program)\nBeneath the Open Sky (Making of a flower garden; natural color views of gardens and flowers, 77 minutes)\n[1] Dahlias: Study of numerous specimens of the flower (49)\n[1] Do You Know Beans?: Life history of bean plant (49)\n[1] Eternal Nature: Cycle of life in growing plant (49)\n[1] Fruits and Flowers: Care of growing garden (164)\n[1] Growing Things: Planning the garden, planting seeds and bulbs, germination of seeds, garden cultivation (164)\n[1] The Life of a Plant: Movements of growing plant; whole life cycle of ordinary garden nasturtium (3)\n[1] Seeds and Seed Dispersal: How plants and flowers renew life; micro-photography and timed exposures (^49, 35, 36, 164)\n[1] Seed Time: Methods employed by plants to secure dispersal of seeds (1)\n[3] South in Tambov: Achievements of plant breeder, Michurin, the Russian Burbank (11)\n[1] Spare the Dogwood: Views of flowers \u2013 their destruction by vandals with legends and posters urging their protection (#165)\nA Springtime Miracle: Wild flowers of Yosemite photographed in bloom. (#20, 49, 164)\nStory of a Leaf: Development of a leaf on a plant. (3)\nA Tropic Garden: Plants in Cuba \u2013 native species in hot climates and their main associations. (\u2022lSl)\nWild Flowers: Native wild flowers in their natural settings. (See also Groups 12, 96)\n\nFor visual instruction, we can supply motion pictures on:\nReligion, Useful Arts,\nSociology, Fine Arts,\nNatural Science, Literature,\nBiology, History,\nZoology, Geography,\nJuvenile Subjects\n\nCatalogues sent upon request.\n\nEdited Pictures System, Inc.\n130 West 46th Street, New York, N.Y.\n\nNatural Science\nGroup 87: Animal Life \u2013 Domestic Animals\nKittens: Interesting traits. (49, 164)\nIn many countries, dog is an indispensable co-operator in man's work. (1) Many intelligent stunts demonstrated by dogs. (20, 164) Monty Works the Wires: A bright, wholesome comedy of life of a sky-terrier as he tells it to his puppy son. (109) Work Dogs of the North: How they haul sleds and mail over frozen wastes in winter and act as pack animals in summer. (59) The Horse in Motion: Study of various gaits of horses, at normal speed and then analyzed by slow-motion photography. (150) The Horse and Man: Horse's part in conquest of the New World and in modern American life; various kinds of horses. (150) The Maverick: Autobiography of a horse. (35, 36, 54, 90, 114) Our Four-Footed Pals: Intimate study. (21, 164) Our Four-Footed Helpers: Description of ruminants on which man relies. (1)\nThe Llama at Home - A sure-footed animal of the mountains at work\nGroup 88: Wild Animals\n1. American Bears - Various bears of the North American continent, photographed by Raymond Ditmars.\n2. Animal Appetites - What some boarders at the zoo prefer in the way of animals.\n3. Animals of the Far North - A group of animals from Polar regions.\n4. Animal Traits - Unusual glimpses of savage beasts.\n5. Apes and Monkeys - An interesting study.\n6. Bare Facts Concerning Bears - Close range studies of conspicuous bears.\n7. Capturing a Great Anteater - A capture in the South American jungle.\n8. Grizzly Bear Pets - Two bear cubs at play.\n9. Hunting Great Grizzlies on the Alaskan Peninsula - Harold Mc- Cracken's motion pictures of the Kodiak bear.\n10. Jaunts Through Monkeyland - Views of jungle life.\nMonarchs of the Plains: Buffalo, yak, elk, etc. (1) Rare animals: Flying opossum, panda, Australian monitor. (36) Sympathy for Reptiles: Surgery at the zoo. (114) Where the Moose Run Loose: Extraordinary pictures of moose. (1) Wild Life on the Colorado Desert: Various types of wild animals, plants and scenery. (3 units, 1 reel each) (89) Smaller Animals An Animal Engineer: The beaver building his home. (20) The Beaver: Cutting and transporting logs, building house and dam. Baby Show in Squirrelville: Story enacted by squirrels. (114) Br'er Rabbit and His Pals: Rabbit as an example of rodents \u2013 his structure and modes of living. (109) A Four-Footed Columbus: Life cycle of a frog. (18, 144) The Frog: Life of a frog from egg to pollywog and metamorphosis to full-grown frog. (49, 164)\nThe   Jungle   Sluggard    (1)    Slowest   creature  on   earth \u2014 the  three-toed \nsloth.  Filmed  by  Dr.  Beebe.  (109) \nKilling  the  Killer  (1)  Mongoose  killing  the  cobra.  (A*  18,  A*  144) \nLife  History  of  Frogs  and  Toads  (1)  Step  by  step  traced.  (114,  164) \nTiny  Housekeepers   (1)   Story  of  the  hamster.  (A*  18,  A#144) \nToads   (1)   Life-cycle  of  common  garden  and  tree  toad.         (49.  131) \nSymbols  and  reference-numbers  are  explained  on  page  3. \nSeventh  Edition \nNATURAL  SCIENCE \nGROUP  90  .  Insects  and  Bugs \nAnts  (1)  Life  history.  (49) \nAnts,  Nature's  Craftsmen   (1)   Life  cycle;  structure  of  ant  dwellings; \nway  in  which  ant  \"workers\"  care  for  young  when  hatching.  (#109) \nBattle  of  the  Ants  (1)  How  colonies  live  and  propagate.  (20,  164) \nThe  Honey  Bee  (1)   Habits  and  industry  of  honey  bee.  (49,  164) \nThe  Palace  of  Honey  (1)  Life  of  the  bee.  (A*  18,  A*  144) \nBeetle Studies (1) Battle for existence with other insects. (164)\nCabbage Butterfly (1) Views of metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. (164)\nComma Butterfly (1) From laying of fluted eggs to beautiful comma butterfly. (20)\nLife History of the Monarch Butterfly (1) Every stage of metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. (131)\nPoor Butterfly (1) Color study. (54)\nCastles of Paper (1) Paper-making hornets. (18, 144)\nDespoilers of Jungle Gardens (1) Life and habits of attas, or leaf-cutting ants; filmed by Dr. Wm. Beebe. (109)\nThe Dexterity of Insects (1) Study of flies and other insects. (54, 114)\nThe Blue Bottle Fly (1) Life history. (164)\nThe Greenbottle Fly (1) Work of this scavenger traced. (131)\nFlying Bandit (1) Facts about flies. (129)\nLace-Wing Fly (1) Fly history of aphis-lion and lace-wing fly. (3131)\nGrasshopper: Body construction and organic functions. Insect Farmers and Laborers: Strange ways of the ant. Insects that Sing: Field cricket, dwarf field cricket, house cricket, katydid. Insects that Mimic: Giant weevil, cone-headed locust, walking stick locust, walking leaf. Jewelled Daughters of the Air: Life history of ailanthus moth. The Moth: Nature study film. The Emperor Moth: Food and habits of caterpillar, construction of cocoon, \"pupa\" stage and final emergence of moth. Marvels of the Insect World: Hercules beetle, rhinoceros beetle, Trinidad reach, scorpion. The Mosquito: Magnified life study. The Mosquito: Details of every stage in life history and methods. Singing and Stinging: Microscopic presentation of life of mosquito and its destruction.\nPoisoned Daggers: The mosquito - where and how they breed, how they carry disease, how to exterminate them (A* 18, A* 144, \u2022170)\nNature's Handiwork: Various phases in life of caterpillars, moths and butterflies (*49, 35)\nPond and Stream Life: Close-range study of dragonfly, pond-snails (2)\nSamia Cecropia: Life story of the \"giant American silkworm\" (1)\nSecrets of Nature: Spiders, silkworms and butterflies (54)\nThe Silkworm: Life history and commercial importance (1)\nSkilled Insect Artisans: How caterpillar weaves its cocoon and develops into moth. Atlas silk moth; red admiral caterpillar (1)\nThe Black-and-Orange Garden Spider: Complete metamorphosis (1)\nThe Lair of the Spider: How female spider lives and kills other orb weavers (1/3)\nClose-ups and photomicrographs of orb-weaving spider (\u202220)\nThe Spider (Close-up photography of spiders, webs, etc. p. 133)\nWasps (Life story from grub to adult of both the \"paper\" and \"yellow\" wasps. Find distributors by reference numbers (pages 129-ff.)\nNatural Science\nGroup 91 Microscopic Life\nAn Aquarium in a Wine Glass (Shows a tuft of hay in a wine glass of water which becomes an aquarium. p. 1, 3)\nGetting Acquainted with Bacteria (Essential facts; three typical shapes; how they are grown and handled in the laboratory, p. 131)\nHow Life Begins (Microscopic biological study of plants and animals; filmed by George E. Stone. p. 27, 35, 49, 77)\n\nPart I \u2014 How Life Begins in Protozoa, Yeast, Plant, Geraniums, Sweet Peas.\nPart II \u2014 How Life Begins in a Sea-Urchin; Life Story of a Swallow-Tail Butterfly.\nPart III \u2014 Life Story of a Frog.\nPart IV \u2014 Life Story of a Chick and a White Rat.\nLife Functions of Animals No. 1 (1) Biological study of amoeba.\nLife Functions of Animals No. 2 (2) Biological study of the hydra.\nMicroscope and Beyond (1) Protozoa and algae viewed under microscope.\nMicroscopic Revelations (each) Cells of starfish in action; how daphnia, hydra and volvox feed and multiply; blood composition and circulation, chick embryo, frog's skin, human blood, etc.\nSeeing the Unseen (1) Study of minute organisms, under the direction of the American Museum of Natural History.\nWonders of the Unseen World (%) Studies of dragon fly and its larvae; water beetles, etc.\nA World Unseen (1) Organisms under the microscope.\nGROUP 92 BIRDS\nBird Cliff Dwellers (%), Nestling gulls learning to walk; colonies of cormorants. (164)\nBirds of Prey (1) Sparrows, hawks, condor, eagle. (#109)\nThe Buzzard: Study of its habits (9:20, 164)\nCanadian Whistling Swan on Chesapeake Bay: History and habits.\nFeathered Aviators: Whooper swan, spur-winged geese of South America, the eagle, etc. (35, 36)\nThe Golden Eagle: Parents caring for young and young birds leaving (A* 18, A#144)\nPheasant Raising at Wilbraham, Mass.: Game preserves. (164)\nPirates of the Air: Owls, eagles and vultures. (\"49, 35, 36, 72)\nThe Sparrow Hawk: Life history and habits. (#20, 164)\nThe Stork: Rearing of stork family. (A* 18, A\u00a9 144)\nA Study in Pelicans: Nesting season on Pelican Island. (164)\nGroup 93: Small Birds\nBaby Songbirds at Mealtime: Nesting and feeding habits of birds of finch and sparrow families chiefly. (\u2022109>\nCuckoo's Secret: Life history; how it lays eggs in other birds' nests.\nNests; how young are raised; how the cuckoo wrecks the home of its parents.\n\nHummingbird: A tiny mother bird with two diminutive eggs; her care and protection of the wee ones. (49)\n\nPigeons in Flight: Study of flight, movement reduced two hundred.\n\nThe Rook: How it builds its nest, rears young, and kills off pests which feed on farmers' crops. (#20, 164)\n\nSong Birds as Citizens: Various kinds of birds with suggestions for their preservation. (\u00a920)\n\nSeventh Edition\nNATURAL SCIENCE\n16 or 35 mm EDUCATIONAL FILMS with spoken Lectures or Classroom Titles |\nGROUP 94 General\n\nBaby Birds: An interesting study 'of infant songsters. (\u202249)\nBird Life: Prizma color study. (114)\nBird Life of Louisiana: Close-ups of nests, eggs, fledglings. (66)\nBirds of Bonaventure: Glimpses of the famous Canadian bird sanctuary. (1)\nBirds of Crags and Marshes: Habits and mode of living.\nBirds of the Beach: Flying inhabitants of the shore \u2014 gulls, snipe, oyster-fisher, and other shore birds. (A* 18, A \u2022144)\nBirds on the Wing: Slow motion of flight \u2014 pigeons, flying of sea gulls, forays of owl, condor flight, etc. (A* 18, A* 144)\nBird Refugees: Visit to one of government islands off Louisiana\nInfant Welfare in Birdland: Comparison of birds near sea and inland. (1)\nLittle Love Nest: Interesting habits and parental care. (49)\nNational Bird Refuges: Trip to Federal bird refuges on islands in Gulf of Mexico. (150)\nRoosevelt, Friend of the Birds: Refuges set aside for bird life by Roosevelt; rare semi-tropical birds, egrets, royal terns, etc. (170)\nTropical Birds: Bird-life in Amazon Valley. (A* 18, A\u00a9 144)\nGROUP 95 Fish and Sea Life\nThe Crayfish and the Stickleback Study of crayfish and the fish that builds a nest. (#109)\nThe Cuttle Fish Study of this deep-sea fish and its unique dwellers. (1) Sights at New York Aquarium.\nFathoms Deep Study of submarine fauna; octopus, conger, starfish.\nThe Fight for Life Struggle for survival under the sea.\nNatural Science\nGROUP 95 (Continued) Fish and Sea Life\nFish and Fishing for Everybody Fish incubation. (170)\nFish Life Prizma color study. (114)\nThe History of a Pearl From development within the oyster to finished product. (164)\nJewels of the Sea Study of coelenterates. (A18, A* 144)\nLife of the Salmon From first appearance at mouth of fresh water stream to spawning grounds. (*59)\nMolluscs (From \"Screen Studies\")\nNeptune's Neighbors: Tropical Fish and Sea Nesting of the Sea Turtle\n- Mother sea turtle scoops hole in sand, lays eggs, and covers with sand.\nPartnerships Under the Sea: Propagating Salmon\n- Valuable in connection with biological study.\nThe Sea and Sea Birds: Dependent Underwater Life\nSecrets of the Sea: Jellyfish and Sea-slugs\nThe Silvery Salmon: Hatching and Catching the Game Fish\nThe Silver Swimmer: A Spider and Its Underwater Nest\nThe Snail: Its Life Cycle and Habits\nSubmarine Camouflage, Undersea study of crabs.\nTrout Hatching and Salmon Raising, Biological study. (164)\nTwo Inches of Fairyland, Fascinating life of the bottom of the sea. (*20)\nWater Babies, Various methods of reproduction by sea creatures.\nWonders of Submarine Life, Wide range of marine life. (49)\nNature Study (Series of 18, 1 reel each)\nIn Birdland, Pirates of the Sky, Butterflies and Moths, Ants, Bees and Spiders, Pets,\nFruit and Flowers, Growing Things, Preparing for a Garden (Part 1 and 11), The Sky, Our Earth,\nHow Living Things Find a Home on the Earth, A Day at the River, Seaside Friends and Their Country Cousins,\nDown at Our Pond, Friends to Man, Furry Creatures.\nAdaptation, Principle of adaptation of organisms to environment.\nSmall animals and birds encountered around camp. Amazing animal habits: fish building nests, ant lion and trap for insects, etc. (A* 18, A* 144)\nAnimal antics: amusing views. (114)\nAnimal babies: various infants of the animal world. (49)\nAnimal camouflage: study of some of nature's most interesting adaptations for protection. (#109)\nThe Animal World (Series of 4, may be used separately):\n1. Prehistoric animals; 2. Large Animals of Sea and Jungle; 3. Birds; 4. Mountain Animals and Those of Cold Regions.\nThe Cosmic Drama (5): Formation of the universe and evolution of the species; directed by Dr. Raymond Ditmars. (114, 164)\nThe Four Seasons (4): Response of animal life to different environments. Frogs and Frills (1): Study of camouflage among caterpillars, birds, etc.\nLiving Natural History (Series of 42 reels) - Covers whole range of life forms from simple to complex:\n\nFur-bearing animals: sea otter, marmot, raccoon, skunk, squirrel, kangaroo, silver fox\nHatching and transformation: fish and chicken eggs, caterpillars to dragonfly\nReptile world: tortoise, alligator, lizard, horned toads, gila monster, rattlesnake\nMotherhood in Nature: shepherd instinct\nThe Motherly Oak: tree and animals it shelters.\nNature's Armour: How animals are protected by heavy skin \u2013 elephants, hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and crocodiles.\nNature's Nurseries: Parents and young of fish, spiders, alligators, hummingbirds, dogs, deer, sheep, and bears.\nNature's Wizardry: Man's imitations of nature's inventions.\nPath Through the Woods: Little wild creatures of the woods.\nRomance of Life: Origin of life on earth.\nSome Wild Babies: Parental instincts of birds and animals.\nStudies in Animal Motion: Motions of kangaroo, frog, deer, lamb, gull, sea lions, and others; slow motion photography.\nTable Manners: Lesson in Zoo etiquette.\nTraps for Insects: Insect-eating plants and animals.\nVegetarians: Animals that live on vegetable matter only.\nWas Darwin Right?: Varied types of our supposed ancestors.\nGroup 97, Physics: Electricity (14)\nSubjects: The Principles of Current Generation (2) - Theory and construction of AC and DC generators; Principles of Current Electricity (2) - Electron theory, electric current, units of measurement, Ohm's law, types of circuits, etc.; Principles of Electromagnetism (2) - Phenomena, relationship between current and magnetic field, coils and solenoids, induction-transformers; Principles of Electrostatics (2) - Phenomena, polarity, conductors and insulators, condensers, etc.; Principles of Magnetism (2) - Phenomena, polarity, lines of force, uses of magnets, etc.; Principles of Electrical Measurement (4) - Fundamental measurements, electrical standards, theory and construction of measuring instruments, etc. (\u00ae16, #114, #120, #170)\nCaptured Electricity (1) - Practical ways of developing electricity. (#20)\nAir Pressure in Which We Live (4) Laboratory experiments demonstrate atmospheric pressure. (20)\nEinstein's Theory of Relativity (2) Clear and understandable scientific explanation of principles involved; animation and photography. (133)\nExperiments in Heat Conduction (%) Laboratory experiments. (20)\nElectromagnetic Induction (1) Important experiments with elaborate equipment, only a great university possesses. (131)\nElectromagnetism (2) Fundamental relations of electricity and magnetism. (lSl)\nElectrostatics (1) Experiments photographed in Ryerson Laboratory, University of Chicago. (131)\nHigh Frequency Currents (1) Demonstrated in Ryerson Laboratory.\nLiquid Air (1) Production in laboratory; experiments with it \u2014 freezing, boiling, making snow and producing flame. (61)\nMagnetism (1) Fundamental properties. (131)\nPeculiarities  of  Air  (%)   Laboratory  experiments.  (*20) \nRevelations  T>y  X-Ray  (1)  Electrical  action  in  producing  X-rays  and \ntheir  power  to  reveal  inner  structure  of  opaque  objects.  (*61) \nSound  Waves,  Experiments  in  Physics  (%)  Actual  photography  of \nsound  waves,  measuring  length,  etc.  (620) \nStudies  in  Magnetism  (1)  Natural  magnet,  permanent  magnet  of  steel, \nuses  of  electro  magnet,  etc.  (^20,  72) \nVelocity  (1)  Einstein  theory  explained.  (54) \nPHYSIOLOGY.  HEALTH  AND  HYGIENE  \"1000  and  One\" \nPHYSIOLOGY,  HEALTH  AND  HYGIENE \nGROUP  98  EMBRYOLOGY  Embryology \nGift  of  Life  (4)  Sketches  the  biology  of  reproduction  from  a  very \nsimple  form  to  human  being.  (8,  170) \nLove  in  Nature   (6)   Sex  and  sexless  reproduction  among  plants,  ani- \nmals, and  human  beings.  (11) \nThe   Science  of  Life    (12,    1   reel  each)    Made  under  direction  of  the \nPart I deals with general biology:\nReel 1 \u2014 Protoplasm and the Beginning of Life\nReel 2 \u2014 Reproduction in Lower Forms of Life\nReel 3 \u2014 Reproduction in Higher Forms of Life\nReel 4 \u2014 Interdependence of Living Things\n\nPart II treats of communicable diseases (See Group 105 for separate reels) .\n\nPart III deals with personal and general hygiene (See Group 102 for separate reels*).\n\nAnatomy and Structural Physiology (Group 99)\nAction of Human Heart:\nAnimated diagrams of the complete circulatory system\nValvular action of human heart.\n\nBreath of Life:\nBlood corpuscles show how oxygen is carried to the body\nComplete circulatory system and valvular action.\nHow the Fires of the Body Are Fed: Mechanical processes during digestion of food.\nHow We Breathe: Lungs and their function in purifying blood.\nHow We Hear: Study of the human ear and functions of its various parts.\nThe Human Body: Dealing with development, structure, function, and hygiene. Digestive System, Respiratory and Urinary Systems, The Heart and How It Works, Blood Vessels and Their Functions.\nThe Human Voice: Functions of nasal passage and organs of throat in producing sound.\nInside Out: Story of digestion; animated diagrams.\nMicroscopic Revelations of Heart and Blood: Blood composition and circulation.\nProblem of Nutrition: Process of digestion, vitamins, food hygiene. (See also Groups 98, 100)\nEyes, Feet, Teeth, Hair.\nGroup 100: Eyes, Feet, Teeth, Hair\nUse and care of eyes. (54) How's Your Eyesight? Common ailments, causes, and remedies.\nThrough Life's Windows: Structure, operations, and functions of the human eye. (103)\nFoot Folly: How to keep feet healthy and happy. (35, 49)\nSay It With Pearls: A practical teaching film on health, in three parts.\nHome Care of Teeth: How teeth grow, how to make them strong, and avoid tooth troubles. (2) Dramatized with animals and children.\nToothbrushing and Other Dental Dos: Teaches children different strokes in brushing the teeth: close-ups and animated cartoons. (2)\nDenticuring at Home, and Nutrition: Close-ups show how to care for children's mouths; nutrition helps for all ages.\nClara Cleans Her Teeth: Story form to interest children in daily brushing of teeth. (85, 103)\nGroup 100 (Continued): Eyes, Feet, Teeth, Hair\nThe Clean Tooth Story: Shows need of mouth cleanliness. (1)\nDon't Wait Till It Hurts: Oral hygiene and nutrition in story form. (1)\nGood Teeth \u2013 Good Health: Teeth and mouth hygiene; cartoons and animals. (2)\nHome-Run Bill's Cora-Back: Boy has teeth fixed and shows improvement in play and studies. (2)\nMouth Hygiene: Need of constant and careful attention to mouth, teeth, and health of gums. (1)\nTeeth: Growth structure and methods of caring for teeth. (1)\nTommy Tucker's Tooth: Simple narrative cleverly presented to impress upon children the importance of care of teeth. (1)\nYour Mouth: Cause, progress, and results of tooth decay, methods of prevention. (1)\nX-Ray on Teeth (1/4) X-ray photographs of infected tooth sockets and other diseases; their destructive effect; importance of care. (#20)\n\nRed Head (1) Care of hair and scalp. (\u202232)\n\nGROUP 101 CHILD Hygiene\nHealth and Hygiene (9, 1 or 2 reels each)\nSubjects in this series are: Eyesight, Teeth, Child Brothers and Sisters, Posture, General Health Habits, Food, Exercise, Armies of Health and Disease, Disease Carriers (2).\n\nBabyhood (1) Babies and their proper care. (54, 114, 164)\n\nBaby's Bath and Toilet (1) A contribution to public health education on child hygiene. (\u00a9103)\n\nBending the Twig (1) Training the child in correct habits of daily living and personal hygiene. (#49, 35, 164)\n\nThe Breast-Fed Baby (1) Benefits of breast feeding and things a mother must do in order to be able to nurse her baby. (#53, 151)\nThe Big Gains for Little Bodies: Causes of underweight in school-age children and a successful camp experiment to restore them. (#53, 36)\nThe Hungry Dragon: A fairytale of medieval times with puppets as actors, inculcating health habits for children. (\u00a9105, 103)\nThe Kid Comes Through: The value of physical fitness brought out by a boy-and-girl adventure. (#105, 49, 103, 114)\nThe Knowing Gnome: An interesting fairy tale based on health facts. (1)\nThe Leaflet: Advice to an expectant mother on care of herself. (103)\nThe Modern Health Crusade: Learning to fight uncleanliness and disease by applying rules of King Arthur's knights. (\u00a9105, 103)\nMothercraft: A course of instruction in personal health and care of babies. (2)\nOur Wealth: Children - Treatment of infants, methods to ensure health, nurseries. (5)\nInternational Dental Health Foundation.\nFor Children, Inc.\n130 East End Avenue, New York City\nCo-operates with Medical, Dental, H Teaching and Nursing Professions\nWrite for information about Films, Riddlegrams, Denticuring Bulletins, Food Charts, Etc.\n\nAdvertisement\n\nSome Publications of \"Picture Values in Education\"\nBy Joseph J. Weber, Ph. D.\nAn indispensable reference book for:\n(a) directors of visual instruction departments\n(b) teachers of psychology and education\n(c) superintendents, principals, supervisors\nThe book is rich in facts, inferences and deductions which are invaluable to the methodology of visual instruction.\n\n\"Visual Aids in Education\"\nBy Joseph J. Weber\nComprehensive summary of available scientific evidence on values and limitations of visual aids.\nMimeographed Edition, 220 Pages, $2.00\n\n\"Fundamentals in Visual Instruction\"\nBy William H. Johnson, Ph. D.\nThis volume presents, for the first time, a resume of visual education to date in thoroughly readable form. Concise. Comprehensive. Authoritative. Bound in Cloth - 104 Pages. $2.00, postpaid.\n\nThe Historical Charts of the Literatures\nBy Nelson L. Greene, A.M.\nOne of the oldest \"Visual Aids\" - continuously in demand since their first appearance in 1912. Pronounced invaluable by scores of libraries for bulletin-board reference, by hundreds of Schools and Colleges for class use, by thousands of general readers of literature for constant personal reference.\n\nEnglish American French German\nNext to appear will be Spanish, Greek and Latin.\n\n(Folded in cover 6x8% inches, or unfolded for wall use)\n50 cents each\n\nSend for circular showing photographic miniature of each chart - Free\n\nThe Educator.\nThe Seventh Edition of The Educational Screen advertises The Film Estimates, an invaluable and unique service for the intelligent public seeking to know a movie's true nature before theatre visits or children's outings. Monthly, The Film Estimates appear in The Educational Screen and Parents' Magazine, evaluating all monthly theatrical movies based on character, content, and worth for \"Intelligent Adult,\" \"Youth,\" and \"Child.\" The judging committee, independent of the motion-picture industry, also offers a New Weekly Service for parents, ministers, teachers, and social workers in localities with early film showings, ensuring advance information.\nA government postal is mailed each week, carrying six Film Estimates on films appearing that week in metropolitan first-run theatres. Subscribers can have their Film Estimate in hand before the film is likely to appear at their local theatre. This postal cuts up (on ruled lines) into six equal miniature cards \u2013 which can be filed cumulatively in alphabetic order, yielding automatically a complete card-reference-file of Film Estimates throughout the year. It no longer matters whether a film arrives early or late at the subscriber's local theatre. There is no need to look through \"back numbers\" of magazines carrying the Film Estimates in monthly-list-form \u2013 no need to be disappointed because \"today's film\" happens to appear on the next month's list, too late for service. The miniature card is in place in your file when-\n\n(Assuming the text is readable and requires no major corrections. If there are any errors, please let me know and I will correct them.)\nIf you want it, you can find out instantly whether the picture is new or old. Subscription price for this new weekly service is established at the extraordinarily low figure of $2.00 a year. Send for sample card and full information.\n\nNational Screen\nVenue, Chicago\n\nPHYSIOLOGY. HEALTH AND HYGIENE \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 101 (Continued) Child Hygiene\nPeter and the Moon Man (2) How a man who came down from the moon was instructed in cleanliness by a little boy. (103)\nPlaytime (2) A plea for playgrounds; absorbing human interest story of a boy and girl with only the city's sidewalks for playground. (160)\nSun Babies (1) Cause, prevention and cure of rickets, by sunlight and cod-liver oil. Lecture-type film. (36, 77, 151)\nTen Little Dirty Boys (1) Transformation of Ten Little Dirty Boys into Ten Little Clean Boys. (103)\nTommy's Troubles: A story about nutrition and tooth care. (103, 114)\nTheir First Baby: Lessons on pre-natal care in narrative form using living silhouettes. (\u202253)\nThe Tournament of Youth: A narrative on child health. (103)\nWell Born: A dramatic narrative on pre-natal care. (36, 151)\nGROUP 102: Personal Hygiene\nThe Angel in the Home: Use of a safe, modern antiseptic. (\u2022170)\nA Dangerous Handicap: How a slovenly kept home can almost blight a budding romance. (103)\nGeneral Personal Hygiene: Reel 12 of \"Science of Life\" series; general standards of health for the individual. (\u202220)\nGiro Gets a Bath: A cartoon film dealing with further adventures of that villain, Giro the Germ. (103)\nGiro the Germ: A cartoon subject teaching health. (103)\nHealth Through Balanced Nutrition, Posture and Exercise (1)\nImportance of correct nutrition, posture, exercise, grace and beauty. (\u00a9131)\n\nHearts and Hands (1)\nA little story which shows that cleanliness and carefulness in personal habits are important. (103)\n\nHow to Live Long and Well (1)\nCorrect habits of healthy life.\n\nPersonal Hygiene for Young Women (1)\nReel 10 of \"Science of Life\" series: sex-education: sexual reproduction illustrated with anatomical drawing. (*20)\n\nSocial Hygiene for Women (2)\nFuller treatment of the same subject. (-8)\n\nPersonal Hygiene for Young Men (1)\nReel 11 of \"Science of Life\" series: venereal diseases, etc. (*20)\n\nEnd of the Road (5)\nAspects of social hygiene for women. (8)\n\nPosture (2)\nMade for physicians, physical training instructors, etc., who wish to teach posture in children. (36, 151)\nSunshine (1) Necessity of sunshine to happiness and health. (9128, 164)\nWorking for Dear Life (1) Compares necessity for giving automobile regular overhauling to man's need for periodic health examination.\nToo Many Pounds (1) Danger of overweight and correct way of re-group 103 Food\nABC of Food (1) Simple facts about value and purpose of various types of food: emphasis on green vegetables, fruit and milk. (\u00a953)\nAlcohol (6) Injurious effects of alcohol on the system. (11)\nBetter Milk for Better Babies (2) Production of certified milk by the most up-to-date methods. (\u202286)\nThe Calorie Counter (1) Meaning of calories and their practical relation to diet in overweight and underweight. (\u00a953)\nFish (1) Story of our better-known food - fish. (*58)\nKeeping Out Bad Food (1) Inspection of imported food products to protect public health.\nTables should be kept free from fraudulent and unwholesome articles (150).\nLand of Health (2) Production of milk, butter, and ice cream (122).\nLong vs. the Short Haul (1) Importance of mother nursing baby and liability of contamination in delivery of city's milk supply (\u00a9103).\nThe Might of Pure Milk (1) Food value of milk; precautions taken to make milk safe (f*103).\n\nSeventh Edition PHYSIOLOGY. HEALTH AND HYGIENE\nGROUP 103 (Continued) Food\nMilk for You and Me (I4) Shows persons of all ages and walks of life drinking milk (150).\nDrinking Health 1 2 1 Means to sanitation and safety through proper (Shadows 1) Importance of milk, fruit, and vegetables for an efficient and economical diet (#100).\nWhat Makes It Go ill (Relationship between right fuel for machinery and proper foods for the body) (#100).\nGroup 104 Exercise Boston's Gyms How a great city provides for its citizens and teaches them to exercise. Corrective Exercises Conditions and causes of spinal disorders: includes course of gymnastics for their correction. Exercise and Keep Well How municipalities improve the stamina of future citizens by providing facilities for outdoor exercise. A Fat Chance An animated cartoon on overweight: a fat man decides to reduce, goes to a doctor and succeeds by diet and exercise. Group 105 Public Hygiene The Fly as a Disease Carrier His structure and part in carrying disease; suggestions for extermination. Reel 9 of \"Science of Life.\"\nFly Danger: Nature and habits; methods of extermination (9103)\nHow Plants and Animals Cause Disease: Reel 5 of \"Science of Life\"\nParasites explained, bacteria and how they invade live tissue. (I)\nHow Disease is Spread: Reel 6 of \"Science of Life\"\nBacterial infection by use of drinking glasses, etc.; animated map shows spread (I)\nHow to Prevent Disease: Reel 7 of \"Science of Life\"\nDangers of carelessness. Pasteurization, quarantine, vaccination, etc. (920)\nHow the Mosquito Spreads Disease: Reel S of \"Science of Life\"\nLife history of mosquito and prevention of fever. (920)\nJinks: Animated cartoon teaches in an interesting and humorous manner the need for periodic physical examinations. (i'  \u2022103.  \u2022105)\nMad Dog: Prevention and identification of rabies. (\u202253)\nHow to Get Rid of Rats: Various methods of control; unusual views (1)\nOur Common Enemy: The Rat (1) Microscopic study of the fly. (109) The Rat Menace: Habits of rats, how they spread disease, and how to exterminate them. (103) Stung by Amos Quito! Public information on preventing malaria. (103) The War on the Mosquito (1) Waste Disposal in Cities (131) Two principal methods employed for safe disposal of city sewage. (131) {See also Groups 13, 90) Disease and Its Treatment Group 106 Disease and Its Treatment Andy Gump and Old Ladies' Home Cures (9103) Experiences of Andy Gump with old lady home cures in attempt to cure a cold. Canti Film (2) Shows behavior of living tissue in vitro and the effect of radium upon cancer cells. (91) Confessions of a Cold (1) Cause, effect, cure, and prevention of colds. (103) Consequences (1) Causes and treatment of a tubercular young woman.\nCondemned (1/3) Prevention of diphtheria by toxin and antitoxin: animated cartoon. \"i\" #53, 36\nConquering Diphtheria (fl) Scientific facts concerning the disease; its prevention and cure. (49, 131)\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 106 (Continued) Disease and Its Treatment\nDelay is Dangerous (1) Methods of curing tuberculosis; story form.\nThe Doctor Decides (2) Authoritative and medically accurate film on the examination of a patient for tuberculosis. (\u2022105)\nHealing of the Hills (1) Shows a sanitarium is the best way to cure tuberculosis. ( \u2022 5 3 )\nInfluenza (1) How an epidemic may be started and ways by which infection may be avoided. (103)\nLiving Normal and Cancer Cells (2) Culture of normal and cancer cells. (9)\nNew Ways for Old (1) Diphtheria prevention treated historically.\nOne Scar or Many? (1) Need for vaccination against smallpox; proof.\nProduction of vaccine and simplicity of injection. (89, 170)\nA Question of Health\nWork of a tuberculosis association in solving health problems of a typical American family. (\u202253)\nSleeping Death\nAfrican sleeping sickness. (A* 18, A* 144)\nSniffles & Snuffles\nSimple facts about common cold; told with living silhouettes and cartoon animation. (\u00a953)\nTake No Chances\nTuberculosis dangers, sanitarium treatment and cure. Story of a family and ravages of tuberculosis. (77)\nGROUP 107 NURSING\nEvery Woman's Problem\nHow to care for the sick in the home. (131)\nIn Florence Nightingale's Footsteps\nTraining of a nurse in classroom, laboratory, operating room, medical and children's wards. (49, 131)\nWinning Her Way\nInteresting story of methods of public health nursing. (131)\n(See also Group 106)\nGROUP 108 ACCIDENT PREVENTION\nAccident Prevention\nAsk Daddy (2) Teaches children prevention of accidents. (#82, 104, 164)\nAutomobile Safety (1) How accidents occur from careless drivers and how to avoid them. (164)\nCarbon Monoxide \u2014 The Unseen Danger (1) Where the gas may be encountered, how to prevent accumulations of gas, methods of reviving victims.\nGoofs (1) Warning against common accidents befalling school children.\nThe Hand of Fate (2) Struggle of the hand of fate with the invisible force \"safety\" working in man's life. (*82, 129, 164)\nThe Handicap (1) Narrative film on industrial safety. (*82, 104)\nHindsight vs. Foresight (2) Broad interpretation of safety problems in industries. (104)\nHow Jimmy Won the Game (1) Safety film showing dangers of playing with blasting caps. (96, 148)\nThe Outlaw (2) Story of safety first, showing \"Carelessness\" as an outlaw; animated cartoon. (#82, 129, 164)\n[The Penalty of Indifference: Safety film creating proper mental attitude in automobilists. Everyday occurrences of careless drivers and pedestrians in an animated cartoon. Problem of Fatigue: Fatigue in industry, nature, effects, and prevention. Safety Wins: Importance of safety in a young man's life in a large steel plant with a love story background. Twelve Points of Safety: Important safety measures in daily coal mine operations. The Verdict: A judge's story presiding over traffic accidents court. When a Man's a Miner: Primarily produced for safety promotion. Why Be a Goose: Safety lesson for children. Seventh Edition: Physiology, Health and Hygiene]\nGroup 109: Fire Prevention\nThe Crime of Carelessness: Fire prevention film advocating industrial safety. (164)\nThe Danger That Never Sleeps: Ever-present home fire hazards eliminated by proper methods. (170)\nFire and Safety Appliance Testing at Underwriters' Laboratories: How tests are made to determine fire and accident hazard of appliances. (3)\nThe Fire Demon: Causes of number of most prevalent fire hazards; lessons for their prevention. (\u2022103)\nAn Unbeliever Convinced: Lesson in fire prevention. (145) {See also Group 14}\n\nGroup 110: First Aid and Life Saving\nLife Saving: Film interview on First Aid. (54, 114)\nEvery Swimmer a Life-Saver: Latest and most approved methods of rescue. (131)\nFirst Aid, or the Care of an Injured Miner by a Miner: Proper methods of emergency treatment for shock. (148)\nOxygen Breathing Apparatus (1) Details of apparatus used in mine rescue work and in deadly atmospheres. (See also Group 101)\n\nMedicine and Surgery\nGroup 111 Medicine and Surgery\nAcute Appendicitis (2) Diagnosis, operation, and post-operative treatment. (Professional.) (*48)\nAcute Appendicitis (1) Dangers of neglect of any abdominal pain. Shows typical case treatment. (Lay) (*48)\nAmyotrophic Congenita (%). Clinical aspects of the disease by actual photographs of a patient suffering from the disease. (*48)\nBenign Prostatic Hypertrophy (1) Physiology of urinary excretion.\nCraniotomy on Dead Fetus (3) Operation of craniotomy on a dead fetus (cephalic) and same on a dead fetus on the manikin (breech). (*34)\nDevelopment of Fertilized Rabbit's Ovum (1) Photomicrography shows the segmentation of the fertilized ovum. (*48)\n\nThe Diagnosis and Treatment of Infections of the Hand (3) Anatomy\nThe Ectopic Heart (1) Actual photographs and animated drawings of a baby case, supplemented by x-rays. (\u00a948)\n\nThe Forceps Operation (4) History, indications and conditions. (*34)\n\nIndirect Inguinal Hernia (3) Repair - anatomical, clinical and operative technique. (#48)\n\nLaparotrachelatomy - Low, Cervical Cesarean Section (8) History, surgical anatomy and technique, the operation itself under local anesthesia; recovery and complications. (A34, #34)\n\nA Model Clinic Plan (1) Floor plan for a small building; advantages; actual scenes of clinic; role of social worker emphasized. (8)\n\nModern Diagnosis and Treatment of Syphilis (3) Clinical study, diagnosis and treatment, pathological cases; tests. (8)\n\nThe Normal Heart (1) Animated drawings showing conduction.\nThe Normal Heart: Contraction (#48)\nNormal Labor: Reproduction of actual deliveries; internal process shown by animated diagrams (#103)\nThe Physiology and Conduct of Normal Delivery (4) - Third stage and treatment\nPreliminary Haemostasis in Goiter Surgery (1) - The de Quervain method explained through actual photography and animated drawings (122)\nPuerperal Infection (1) - How bacteria are introduced into the uterus during normal labor; animated drawings and actual photography (122)\nRabies (%) - An actual photograph of a case in a young boy (#48)\nFind distributors by reference - numbers (pages 129-ff.)\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 111 (Continued)\nMedicine and Surgery\nThe Relation of Absorbable Sutures to Wound Healing (4)\nincising of tissue and resultant reactions; methods of healing and steps in preparation of absorbable sutures. (43)\nSimple Goiter: Animated drawings and actual photography. Mechanical efforts of growth covered; various types. (48)\nSurgical Treatment of Peptic Ulcers: Pathology of ulcers, major points in diagnosis, occurrence of complications and operative procedures. (4)\nTechnique of Blood Transfusion: Fundamentals of blood transfusion; need of care and attention to detail. (*48)\nTests of Vestibular Function: Technique of a neurological examination; animated drawings. (1) (#48)\nTraumatic Surgery of the Extremities: Operative care of an injury involving skin, muscle, tendon, nerve, vessel and bone. (*43)\nTreatment of Normal Breech Presentation: Practical treatment of delivery and demonstration. (2) (#48)\nThe Treatment of Breech Presentation: Diagnosis, clinical course, and management. (4)\nThe Treatment of Normal Breech Delivery and Extraction by Breech (#34)\nThe Treatment of Eclampsia (3) Prenatal care and diagnosis of two cases of threatened eclampsia (#34)\nThe Treatment of Face Presentation (3) Conversion of face presentation to occipital, application of forceps and treatment of post-partum hemorrhage (\u00a934)\n\nAthletics and Sports\nGroup 112: Baseball, Football, Golf\nBaseball in Slow Motion (1) Babe Ruth and other stars in action.\nFootball (1) Lessons by \"Hurry-up\" Yost (114)\nFundamental Football (1) Various training methods which are in general use in schools and universities; fundamentals for players (109)\nThe Kick (1) Inside details of the kicking game, accuracy and speed necessary in running plays, methods of protecting kicker, tackle work (109)\nThe Forward Pass (1) Team work required and thrilling shots of eligible receivers and of the pass. (109)\nThe Lateral pass, combined with the forward pass and the screen pass. Football Field Officials: Duties of referee and umpire; rule infractions and penalties; plays followed through. It's a Grand Old Game: Picture of college football \u2014 training rooms, practice, games, crowds, celebrations, etc. Golf: How to improve your game. Golf in Slow Motion: Drives, putts, etc. Golfing with Bobby Jones: Shows his drives and putts before regular and slow motion cameras. Group 113: Dancing Evolution of the Dance: Exhibition of dancing steps used by primitive and modern races. Desha's Tryst with the Moon: Poetic slow motion study of a dancer in moonlit woodland. Grace in Slow Motion: Slow motion studies of four dances in different styles.\nLe Ballet de Foret (1) Annual \"Dance in the Forest\" given on Paterson estate; arranged and conducted by Bott School of Dancing.\n\nGroup 114 Track and Field\nField Games (1) Olympic athletes demonstrate all details of field events with slow motion and suspended animation.\n\nFrench Girl Athletes (1) Athletics in French schools; Suzanne Lenglen and other famous athletes appear.\n\nTennis in Slow Motion (1) Normal and slow motion shots of Johnston of California and Patterson of Australia.\n\nTrack Meet (1) Correct form for track events with aid of slow motion picture.\n\nSeventh Edition\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE\n\nIntroducing\n\nTalking and Silent Films\n\nFor any non-theatrical use and motion picture films that are in the best condition only.\nNO-JUNK FILMS\nTry our new 24-hour service: we let you know which subject you may use by telegram 24 hours after your order is received. We are always glad to get even your smallest orders. \"SERVICE TO YOU WHILE OTHERS JUST SERVE YOU\" is our motto.\n\nEDUCATIONAL IN EVERY RESPECT\n300 Silent Free Films (Free Except Transportation Charges)\nAlso 50 Free Talking Educational Films. Write for our catalogue A-6.\n\nProducers: Hastings Motion\nBranches:\nDistributors: PIPTTTPFQ Detroit,\nBrokers: rll/lUULO New York,\nof Home Office Long Beach,\nEducational Films: Hastings, Michigan, Windsor, CAN.\n\nFREE TALKING PICTURE EQUIPMENT TO THOSE USING OUR SERVICE\n(For Information write Talking Department)\n\nGROUP 115 Camping and Outdoor Sports\nAmerican Boy Out of Doors (1) Sports and outdoor activities.\nAmerica's Heritage (2) Troop of Boy Scouts \u2014 fire building, camping, etc.\nAscent of the Matterhorn: A trip with a party of climbers up the side of Matterhorn in Switzerland. (63, 164)\n\nDude Ranches and Camps in the Northwest: Life of the \"Tenderfoot\" tourist; saddlehorse trips through mountains. (1, 106, 122)\n\nPack Train Trip through the Washington National Forest: A tip with mules, a tent and a canoe across northern Cascades. (1, 150)\n\nRide 'em Cowboy: Depiction of the now world-famous rodeo \u2014 fancy stunt riding, calf roping, etc. (1, 170, 33)\n\nShe's Wild: Cowboys on cattle ranges; \"broncho busting,\" roping and tying and other exhibitions. (1, 150)\n\nTenderfoot Trails: Experiences of a party of tourists vacationing on a \"dude ranch\" in the Canadian Rockies. (1, 170)\n\nUps and Downs of a Broncho Buster: Thrills of a rodeo. (1, 122)\n\nGroup 116 Water Sports.\nDiving: Wide range of plain and fancy diving in normal speed and slow motion by celebrities. (109)\nDiving and First Aid: Elementary and advanced standards, fancy diving analyzed, rescue of drowning person and resuscitation. (49)\nSwimming: Fundamental strokes and teaching methods on land and in water, with slow motion and analysis. (49)\nSwimming and Diving: Correct forms, slow motion. (131)\nSwimming: Swimmers, fundamental strokes and modern methods illustrated with slow motion. (164)\nWater Sports in Hawaii: Title tells it. (164)\nPhysiology, Health and Hygiene: \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 117: Winter Sports\nThe Chase: Ski-jumping amid wonderful Swiss scenery. (42, 54)\nFrolics in Frost: Ski technique, fancy skating, skate sailing, tobogganing, ice-boating and hockey. (109)\nWinter Sports: Group 110.\nThe Silyery Art (1) Detailed technique of skiing. (133, 164)\nThrills and Spills (1) Winter sports at Pocono Mountain. (C20)\nWhen Winter Comes (1) Winter sports at Banff. (\u2022170)\nWhere Winter Sport is King (1) Winter sports in picturesque old city of Quebec. (\u2022170)\nWhere Snow Time is Joy Time (1) Skiing at Ottawa. (36, 170)\nWinter Sports in St. Moritz (1) Skating on wonderful lakes; skiing down picturesque mountain slopes. (164)\nWith Dog Team and Snow Shoes (1) Title tells it. (170)\nGROUP 118 Animal Hunting\nAcross the World with Mr. & Mrs. Martin Johnson (9) Their adventures in the South Sea Islands, Africa and other lands; excellent pictures of wild animals, natives and cannibal adventures. (A140)\nCanoe Trails through Mooseland (1) Hunting wild life in the forest of eastern Canada. (\u2022170)\nCapturing a Great Giant Anteater (1) Filmed by Dr. Wm. Beebe (109)\nHunting Tigers in India, Complete tour of India: natives, cities, customs, jungle, wild animals (A140)\nHunting Whales and Walrus: Arctic regions are natural hunting grounds for these animals (49)\nA Jungle Round-Up: Animals of the Amazon Valley - killing of crocodiles, capture of boa constrictor and sloth (A* 18, A* 144)\nJungle Adventures of Martin Johnson: Adventures in tropical lands of Borneo and surrounding country (21, 72, 77, 164)\nSacred Baboons: Capturing animals in Abyssinia (A* 18, A* 144)\nShooting Big Game with Camera: Series of films, 1 reel each, produced by Mr. F. B. Patterson. The Safira and Birds, Antelope, Rhinoceros, Along the Trail, Giraffe, Simba (Lions), Elephants (*170)\nSimba: Adventures of Mr. and Mrs. Martin Johnson in Africa. Excellent wild animal shots; natives spearing lions (A140)\nWhen an expedition is to the home of the lion, with gun and dog. A deer hunting expedition. Group 119: Bird Hunting - Training of hunting dogs and their field tests; Prizma color. Duck Shooting \u2014 Rail Bird Shooting: Different methods used. Hunting in Maryland: Hunting of typical Maryland wildfowl and game - wild turkey and rabbits; ducks and rail-bird; quail. Hunting the Wary Black Mallard on Long Island: Contains much close-up material of birds flying over hunter's blind. Propagating Bob-white Quail in Maryland: Methods. Quail Shooting: Actual hunting scenes for quail with a good bird dog. Turkey Hunting in Maryland: Suitable for sportsmen. Wild Turkey Hunting \u2014 Ruffed Grouse \u2014 Rabbit Hunting: Actual hunting by sportsmen with trained dogs. (See also Group 22)\nGROUP 120 Fishing\nBass Fishing (1) Angling for bass in lake country of Ontario. (164)\nFishing Gamely for Game Fish (1) Useful hints concerning modern fishing tackle and how to achieve best results. (#170)\nFishing the Flathead with Charlie Howes (1) A day's fishing along the Flathead River in Glacier National Park. (122)\nFish and Totem (1) Tracing history of salmon fishing from the time of the Symbols and reference-numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition GROUP 120 (Continued) Fishing\nMaryland \u2014 The Angler's Paradise (1) Fishing for trout, black bass, rod and gudgeon in Maryland streams and Chesapeake Bay. (84, 136)\nInshore Fishing on the Atlantic Coast (1) Work of Canada's Atlantic fishermen. (170)\nFishing for trout, black bass, rod and gudgeon in Maryland streams and Chesapeake Bay. (84, 136) - Maryland: The Angler's Paradise\nA day's fishing along the Flathead River in Glacier National Park. (122) - Fishing the Flathead with Charlie Howes\nAngling for bass in lake country of Ontario. (164) - Bass Fishing\nUseful hints concerning modern fishing tackle and how to achieve best results. (#170) - Fishing Gamely for Game Fish\nWork of Canada's Atlantic fishermen. (170) - Inshore Fishing on the Atlantic Coast\nSeeking Steel-heads: A party of anglers seeking steelheads in the streams of Vancouver Island. (170)\n\nTaking Game Fish in the Florida Gulf Stream: Fine scenes of taking fish \u2013 bonita, dolphin, tuna, and sailfish. (170)\n\nTigers of the North: Shows the fighting qualities and gameness of the Maskinonge. (170)\n\nTrout Streams in the Catskills: The sportsman's paradise, world-famous for gamey trout. (164)\n\nGroup 121 Miscellaneous\n- Grantland Rice Sportlights (1 reel each): Highlights of the world of sport; the contribution made by ideals of sportsmanship to modern American life. (#170)\n- Group Games (1): Groups of students form classes for games; suggests conduct of circle, line, file, and miscellaneous games. (49)\n- Keeping Fit (1): Exercises used in training boxers, wrestlers, tumblers, etc.\nacrobatic dancers etc.; well-known people of the sport world demonstrating.\nPlay the Game (1) Teaches the joy of the game for the game's sake. (49)\nTreasure Hunters (1) Sports of various kinds. (164)\nWhen Guide Meets Guide (1) Annual tournament of Nova Scotia's guides when woodsmen match skill in wilderness sports. (170) (See also Groups 102, 104)\nPSYCHOLOGY\nGROUP 122 Psychology\nThe Girl Who Found Herself (1) Story of a girl who acquired self-confidence through athletic activities. (162, 170)\nThe Honor of the Job (1) Spirit of service on part of telephone line-mechanics\nThe Mechanics of the Brain (6) Illustration of conditioned reflexes and methods used by Prof. Ivan P. Pavlov. (11)\nKnights of Now (1) Narrative on character building, for children; Knighthood of Youth Movement in schools. (#53, 99)\nGetting the Most out of Retailing (2) Store management, newspaper advertising.\nScenic Group 123\nRobert C. Bruce Scenic Novelties (1 each)\nBeautiful scenic effects, diverting novelties, and interesting travelogues. (51)\nCanyon of Dreams (1) Scenic titled \"In Prose.\" Mountains, hills, dales, and beautiful waterfalls. (164)\nA Cloud-Land Fantasy (%) Beautiful cloud effects during sunshine, sunset, and storm. (#23)\nCombatting the Elements (1) Nature in full tyranny on sea and land. (1)\nDawning (1) Color photographs of dawn in various parts of the world, suggested by Cadman's \"At Dawning.\" (54, 114)\nDo You Remember (1) Beautiful scenery and clever photography make this a screen gem. (164)\nEdgar A. Guest Jewels (13, 1 reel each) Exquisite nature tints, illustrating some of the outstanding lyrics of America's Poet Laureate. (164)\nFriendly Breast of the Earth (1) Mountains, lakes, and rivers. (164)\nScenic Group 123: The Man Who Found a Boy (2) - Experiences and trials of a Boy Scout. Men in the Making: Story of a trip by a troop of Boy Scouts through the eastern part of the United States. Nature and the Poet (1) - Nature scenes with titles from the poems of William Cullen Bryant. (54, 114) Robinson Crusoe Hours (1) - Post-nature scenic. Rural Relations (1) - Post-nature scenic. (114) Scenic Grandeurs of America (1) - Scenic bits of beauty. (164) When Day is Done (1) - Scenic poem illustrating the glories of sunset in various parts of Canada. (170)\n\nSociety Group 124: General\nDeliverance (6) - An anti-liquor film, adapted from Prof. Irving Fisher's books on prohibition. (36, 170)\nHell and the Way Out (5) - Dramatized facts of establishment, growth, and redemption. (36, 170)\nAnd achievement of League of Nations.\nHome Sweet Home emphasizes importance of happy, contented homes; glimpses of houses in Algiers, China, Japan and Indian wigwam.\nLest We Forget: Real life temperance drama - how the sins of the father are visited upon the children (36, 72, 115, 170).\nLet's Finish the Job: Treatise on Eighteenth Amendment (112).\nMaking of an American: Educating our foreign-born population in the spirit of American ideals and institutions (49).\nPoison: Anti-liquor film (54).\nPunch Press Safety with Increased Production: Safety devices for operation on power presses and increased production records (#82).\nThe Transgressor: Story of punishment and redemption - the victim before and the law breaker after coming of prohibition (115).\nThe Twister: Roll-call film for Red Cross workers, showing horrors.\n[131] Of cyclones and the necessity of aid.\n[2] Within the Gates [Part I]\nWomen's roles in industry from primitive times to present.\n[\u00a9152] The Woman Worker, Past and Present [Part II]\nContrasts women's former industrial activities in the home with work in factories today.\nBureau of Investigation and Secret Service [Group 125]\nDuties and methods of identification through finger prints.\n[1] Prostitution and the Police\n[2] Designed for groups interested in law enforcement relating to commercialized prostitution.\n[See also Group 133]\n\n[1] Group 126 - Social Organizations\n[1] Babes in the Wood\n[Boy Scout story]\n[0170]\n[1] Boy Problem Solved\n[Boy Scout film]\n[72]\n[1] The Boy Scout and His Uniform\n[Steps in manufacture of a complete outfit for Young America]\n[131]\nBoy Scouts of America: Depicting the delegation to the International Jamboree in England. (114)\nThe Boy Who Cried Wolf: Story about Jimmy, famous among his Boy Scout fellows as a stalker and pathfinder. (2) (*78)\nDays of Real Sport: A full day of Boy Scout activities \u2014 camp life, hikes, tests and sports. (92)\nThe Diary of a Boy Scout, No. 1 and No. 2: Boy Scout's activities in summer and in winter. (1 each, 170)\nIndian Lure: Girl Scouts' and Boy Scouts' camps in Canada. (1) (\u00a957)\nKnights of the Square Table: Boy Scouts. (5) (#78)\nSeventh Edition\nSOCILOGY\nGROUP 126 (Continued) Social Organizations\nRoosevelt, the Great Scout: How Roosevelt illustrated the theme, \"building bodily vigor for national service.\" (2) (170)\nScotty of the Scouts: Inspiring serial of the exploits of the Boy Scouts. (10, 2 reels each) (72)\n[The Girl Scout Trail: A dramatization of the Girl Scout movement, telling experiences of a new member. Somebody's Children: Activities of Baltimore County Children's Aid Society. The Spirit of Service: Suitable for use during Red Cross Roll Call. Home at the End: Narrative for money-raising of an Old Folks' Home for Men and Women.\n\nGroup 127: Insurance and Fraternal Orders\nThe Helping Hand: News reel picturing devastation caused by floods and tornadoes and relief extended by Modern Woodmen.\n\nIn the Land of Lakes: Encampment of Modern Woodmen of America at Minnesota State Fair.\n\nThe Man Who Won: Story of a young man winning an uphill fight to regain his place in the world.\n\nNorth Dakota Oddfellows' Film: Opening of I.O.O.F. Home]\nDevil's Lake (N.D. C62)\nThe Orphans (1) Sketch of unprotected orphan children. (\u00a994, 9122)\nA Tribute to Loyalty (2) Trip through a beautiful office building of a woman's insurance society \u2014 Royal Neighbors. (122)\nA Trip to Rock Island (2) Historical scenes in and around Rock Island; activities in Head Office of Modern Woodmen of America. (#94)\n\nTravel and Transportation\nGroup 128 Air\n\nAround the World via the Graf Zeppelin (5) Details of world-famous flight given in talk accompanying film. (A140)\nAirplane Engines (1) Principles of construction of important types of airplane engines. (A19)\nAirplane Navigation (1) Self-explanatory. (A19)\nAirplane Structure and Rigging (1) Self-explanatory. (A19)\nAviation Cross-Country Flight (1) Methods of planning and carrying out cross-country flights. (A19)\nAviation Meteorology (1) Principles of aviation meteorology. (A19)\nAviation Regulations (1) Rules of the Air. (A* 19)\nBuild and Fly Model Airplanes (2) How to build and fly scientific model airplanes; shots of Lindbergh, Byrd, and Ethers. (5)\nThe Business of Aviation (1) Aviation business management. (A\u00ae 19)\nCushion Landings (1) Valuable to aviators, airplane schools, instructors, and pilots. (#63)\nEagles of the Sea (1) Experiments in aviation on American steamships operated by United States Lines. (#170)\nGreatest Airship Dock (1) Story of the largest building in the world without interior supports \u2014 where giant airships are built. (\u00a963)\nHappy Landings (2) Why the parachute is the most scientific contribution to the cause of \"safety first\" in aeronautics. (\u00a9160)\nLightning-Proof (1) Laboratory tests of lightning-arrester \u2014 protects balloons from lightning while in flight. (#63)\nLearning to Fly (2) (#160)\n[Lindbergh Flies Alone (2) - Complete and accurate record of Lindy's flight: take-off from Roosevelt Field, arrival at Paris, and return. (109)\nLindbergh's Flight to Mexico (1) - Graphic news reel report. (164)\nMagellan of the Air (1) - Activities of Dr. Hugh Eckener in America following his flight around the world. (#63)\nSaving Time with the Air Mail and Air Express (1) - Service of the air\nTravel and Transportation \"1000 and One\"\nGROUP 128 (Continued) Air\nWinging West (2) - Several of the prominent trans-Atlantic flyers, including Cole and Ruth Elder. (109)\nWith Byrd, U. S. N. in America's Polar Triumph (3) - Official record of first flight over the North Pole from Spitzbergen. (109)\nWith Cobham to the Cape (7) - Flight of England's famous aviator, Sir]\nAlan Cobham: From London to Cape Town; Pictures of Africa (p. 3, 67)\nThe Story of the Airship: Beginning of American balloon-making and flying; development of small \"blimps\" (p. 3, 63)\nAutomobiles (See Automotive Machinery \u2013 Group 70)\nGroup 129: Roads and Road Building\nAsphalt Blocks: Making of asphalt blocks and their use in road construction (p. 1, 170)\nThe Bates Road Test: Story of one of the most important road tests in highway history (p. 150)\nBuilding Forest Roads: Men and machinery at work in the national forests (p. 150)\nFighting Snow: Methods used by Minnesota Highway Dept. in keeping highways open in winter (p. 3, 122)\nImpact of Traffic on Roads: Tests made to determine effect on highways of pounding tendencies of motor-vehicle wheels (p. 1, 150)\nImproving Roads: Highlights in construction of concrete shoulders to revitalize old macadam roads (p. 1, 136)\nThe Master Road Builder: Industrial tractors operate road graders, ditchers, and scarifiers (33, 76, 170).\nMixed Asphalt Pavements: Methods of constructing modern asphalt highways for heavy traffic (#170, 150).\nA Parable of Paving: How money is saved by utilizing existing worn pavements as foundation for new surfaces (#170).\nRoads for All America: Visit of U.S. delegation to first Pan American Road Congress, Buenos Aires (150).\nRoads in Our National Parks: Service performed in constructing modern highways in our national parks (150).\nA Road Out of Rock: Details of construction of road through Glacier National Park (150).\nThe Road to Happiness: Promoting good roads through rural districts (57).\nRocky Mountain Park Roads: Construction of new road into Colorado's famous national park (150).\nSnow and Ice Removal (1) How Maryland's roads are kept open for traffic during heavy snows in western part of state. (136)\nYosemite's New Roads (1) Cooperation between Bureau of Public Roads and National Park Service. (150)\n\nGroup 130 Railroads\nAn Electrified Travelogue (2) How people formerly traveled; then electrification of railroads, how engines are built, etc. (163)\nThe Fair of the Iron Horse (2) Evolution of transportation from days of Indians and pack horses to first railway. (*33)\nThe King of the Rails (3) Evolution of transportation from primitive to modern times; electric locomotive operating in Rockies. (#61)\nThe Pageant of Progress (2) Opening of the west to railroad transportation and founding of first transcontinental railroad. (#128)\nA Pullman Travelogue (3 or 4) Brief history of travel and suggestions regarding \"the right way to travel.\" (128)\nRailroads in United States History (1) Growth of our great railway systems and their economic significance.\nRailroad Builders (1) Various steps in construction of new railroad through Texas Panhandle.\nWater Canals in United States History (1) Motion pictures, maps and charts tell of canals built, their location, importance and influence.\nCarrying American Products to Foreign Lands (1) From construction to journeys all over the world (154, 157)\nDry Cleaning (1) Drydocking of a huge liner \u2014 the Leviathan (#170)\nA Great Lakes Romance (1) Boat trip through upper Great Lakes (170)\nBirth of a Duchess (1) Building and launching of a great steamship shown in full detail (96)\nLog of a Lubber (2) Activities on board ship on a trip to South America.\n[Queen of the Waves, The Steamboat in United States History, A Waterway Wonderland, Brief History of Transportation, Evolution of Travel, How Goods Are Carried, How the World Travels, Transportation (twice)]\n\n1. Queen of the Waves: Evolution of boats from primitive to modern times; launching of \"Queen of the Waves.\"\n2. The Steamboat in United States History: Influence on settlement, trade and commerce; early and modern steamers.\n3. A Waterway Wonderland: Great Lakes.\n4. Group 132: Miscellaneous\n5. Brief History of Transportation: Periods of history illustrated by progression of land transportation from human carriers and beasts of burden to London-Paris air liners of today.\n6. Evolution of Travel: From earliest modes to present.\n7. How Goods Are Carried: Various means of freight transportation throughout the world.\n8. How the World Travels: Variety of modes.\n9. Transportation: Different methods of different countries.\n10. Transportation: Early methods, first steam locomotive, discovery of steam power.\nelectricity, types of electric locomotives.\nWheels of Progress From the day of the bicycle to modern methods\nWAR - Naval and Military Group 133 Naval and Military Activities of all units of the fleet - battleships, destroyers, cruisers, submarines and aviation. IA*153, #170\nCarrying Old Glory to the Seven Seas U.S. Navy. 54\nExploits of the U-35 Interesting submarine life. 72, 133\nOn Many Shores Sightseeing in various ports with U.S. Navy.\nOur Glorious Dead Cost of war and a tribute to our martyr heroes. Appropriate for Armistice and Memorial Day. 54, 114\nOver the Bounding Main Visit of U.S. Fleet to Australia. I A* 153\nProgress in the Navy Routine and training recruits on navy ships after leaving training station. #153, #170\nRoad to Progress: Routine and training at training station. Sailors of the Skies: Modern aviation in the navy \u2014 functions of all its units and their duties. A Shakedown Cruise: Various ports visited by navy; deck scenes on cruiser. Shall We Forget?: Powerful argument against militarism with motherlove as the main theme. Sharks of the Navy: Work of modern submarines \u2014 how they are handled and how men are trained for that duty. Three Gobs: Naval training. Tommy in Palestine: Wrestling Holy Land from Turks by British troops. U.S. Fleet on the High Seas: Scenes of activities of our fleet and a glimpse of life on board a battleship. Victory Pageant: Great welcome in London, Paris and New York to heroes of World War.\nWings of the Fleet (2) Progress of aviation in the navy. (A153)\nThe Adams' Children (1) Fun of three brothers and their dog, pony, calf, horses and ducks. (62)\nAdopting a Bear Cub (1) Delightful study of a little orphan brown bear of Cascade Mountains. (164)\nAladdin's Lamp (3) From Grimm's famous fairy tale; enacted by children.\nThe Alphabetical Zoo (1) Review of animals from A to Z; titled in rhyme; delightful for children. (#49, 35, 36)\nBobbie's Ark (1) Series of animal pictures without titles. (\u00bb49, 35)\nBridge of Fancy (2) Featuring Mary McAllister; human interest story.\nChildren Here, There and Everywhere (1) Portrays children at work and play in many countries. (49, 114, 164)\nCinderella (4) Well-known story acted out by a cast of children. (72, 164)\nCurly Squirrel (1) Novelty story enacted by squirrels. (54, 114)\nThe Dwarf's Nose (5) German fairy story. (72)\nThe Goose Girl (3) Faithful adaptation of Grimm's beautiful fairy tale.\nHop o' My Thumb (2) Story of Seven League Boots and how diminutive hero outwitted wicked ogre. (49)\nJack and the Beanstalk (1) Dramatization of the story known wherever there are children. (\u202249)\nJust for Fun (1) Story of a small boy who played war \"just for fun\" but found that consequences were not at all funny. Children's interpretation is human and humorous. (#170)\nKingdom of Hope (2) Featuring Mary McAllister. (21)\nThe Knight before Christmas (1) A Christmas story. (54, 114)\nThe Life of Santa Claus (2) Fantasy actually filmed in Northern Alaska. (\u00ab79)\nA Little Bit Old-Fashioned: The Little Boy Who Believes in Santa Claus - A Christmas story\nLittle Red Riding Hood: Novel interpretation of the well-known nursery tale in animated silhouette (#78, 54, 164)\nLittle Red Riding Hood: Up-to-date version of the story (21, 72, 114)\nThe Little White Girl: A human interest story about Mary McAllister (21)\nMadeline's Christmas: Modern playlet of Christmas time (54, 114)\nThe Magic Cloak: Fairy story of the magic cloak that enables the owner to fly\nThe Magic Hour: Shows a little boy's dreams coming to life (21)\nA Modern Mother Goose: Trip to Fairyland with all the characters of the Mother Goose stories (54)\nMud: Entertaining comedy involving mud and hard luck (109)\nMy Barefoot Boy: Juvenile scenic (114)\nNight before Christmas: Famous children's poem in film.\nOld Mother Hubbard (1) Collection of childhood's favorite jingles.\nOld Woman of the Woods (3) Grimm's fairy tale. (164)\nMotion pictures for Education and Entertainment\nFor catalog and information address: Pathe Exchange, Inc. Educational Department, 35 West 45th St., New York City\nSeventh Edition\nEntertainment\nGroup 134 (Continued) Juvenile\nOn Christmas Eve (1) Santa Claus in a Christmas story. (54, 114)\nParade of Comic Balloons (1) A marathon of mirth and marvel. (#63)\nPeeps in Puzzleland (1) Story of animals come to life. (21)\nPinocchio (3) Adaptation of the well-known Italian fairy tale. (#49)\nPuppy Days (1) Juvenile scenic. (114)\nRagged Girl of Oz (4) One of the \"Oz\" stories. (49)\nRover's Big Day (1) Triumph of a homeless dog and a 6-year-old boy over the objections of his parents. (109)\nSeason of Childhood (2) Mary McAllister in a human interest story. (21)\nSleeping Beauty (3) Scenes based on incidents in fairy tale. South Sea Kids (1) Child life in its many amusing aspects as seen by Mrs. Martin Johnson. Snow White (3) Grimm's fairy tale. Steps to Somewhere (2) Features Mary McAllister. 'Twas the Night before Christmas (1) A Christmas story. Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star (5) Fairy tale of a star child and his adventures when he falls to earth. The Uneven Road (2) Mary McAllister in a children's story. The Wee Scotch Piper (1) Narrative of a little boy who wanted a bagpipe. Where is My Mother? (2) Good for children's programs. Winter Christmas (1) Story of a little boy at Christmas. The Wizard of Oz (3 or 5 or 6) Based on fairy tale, featuring Larry. The Yellow Umbrella (2) Mary McAllister in a story suitable for children.\nYoung Mother Hubbard (5) A story of a little girl and her orphaned brothers and sisters in search of a home.\nThe American (5) Reprint of the famous early success with Douglas Fairbanks by Anita Loos.\nAnnapolis (8) Life at the Naval Academy.\nArabian Nights (8) The magic of the famous Arabian Nights on the screen.\nArrested for Life (2) Comic situations in a boarding house.\nThe Bachelor's Baby (6) Harry Meyers and Little Billy the Dwarf in a comedy.\nBardelys the Magnificent (9) A historical drama of the court of Louis XIII based on Sabattini's novel; authentic settings, thrills, and romance.\nThe Big Parade (13) John Gilbert in the spectacular war drama.\nThe Betrayer (2) Drama of New England small town life. (A123)\nThe Big Hop (7) Buck Jones in the story of an attempted airplane flight across the Pacific. (A54)\nBirth of a Scandal (1) Drama with comic situations showing the origin of gossip. (62)\nIDEAL PICTURES CORP.\nCOMPLETE VISUALIZATION\nMotion Pictures, 35 mm. and 16 mm., F. and N.\nGlass Slides, Film Slides, Stereopticons, Projectors,\nCameras, Screens, Etc.\nFor Nine Years \u2014 The Best\nWrite for Free Catalogs to Nearest Office\n321 Lecb Arcade Bldg., \u2014 Minneapolis, Minn.\nEntertainment\nGroup 135 (Continued) Entertainment\nBlack Lightning (6) Exciting story of the boy who befriends the dog. (146)\nThe Black Pirate (9) Douglas Fairbanks' wonderful color-picture of thrilling romantic action suggested by title. (146)\nThe Block Signal (6) Story of the engineer whose eyes are failing him after many years of service. (72)\n[Blue Monday (2) A farm boy in the foreign legion returns home to find his lost sweetheart. (170, 6)\nBuilders of a Nation (5) Appreciation of America's pioneers. (72)\nBurn 'em up Barnes (6) Narrative of a rich young man who had to become poor to appreciate wealth. (164)\nCall from the Wild (5) A lost boy is saved by an intelligent dog. (49)\nThe China Slaver (6) Story of the China Seas suggested by a Kipling. (Comrades, 54)\nThe Country Doctor (1) A story of a physician who discovers a serum but sacrifices the chance for glory to save the children of a community. (164)\nThe Country Doctor (1) A rural comedy-drama. (54, 114, 164)\nCountry Flapper (5) Lillian Gish and Glenn Hunter in a comedy-drama.\nThe Crackerjack (7) Johnny Hines in a comedy. (72, 114)\nCrack o' Dawn (5) An exciting auto race is featured in the story. (72)]\nThe Crowd: Eleanor Boardman in a great human drama depicting the early life of \"everyman.\" (6) A Daughter of the Poor: Bessie Love features in this film. (5) Devil Horse: Shows the famous horse \"Rex.\" (6) Disposing of Mother: Awakening of an old-fashioned mother who always lived for her children. (162) Don Q. Son of Zorro: Sequel to \"Mark of Zorro\" - Douglas Fairbanks in thrilling adventures in Mexico and Spain. (146) Dorothy Vernon of Haddon Hall: Mary Pickford in a charming costume story from Charles Major's book. (146) Down to the Sea in Ships: Clara Bow in a story of early whaling days of New England. (164) Dress Parade: Cadet life at West Point. (109) The Early Bird: Comedy starring Johnny Hines. (111) The Empire Builders: Story of civilization's forward step across the African veldt. (72)\nThe False Trail (2) Romance of Canadian Northwest. \"Faust\" (9) Emil Jannings in beautiful treatment of Goethe's epic of the middle ages. Made by Ufa. (88)\n\nFighting Eagle (8) Romantic story of Napoleonic era. (109)\n\nThe Freshmen (7) One of Harold Lloyd's most popular comics. (109)\n\nFour Horsemen of the Apocalypse (10) Rudolph Valentino in Ibanez' historical romance inspired by the Book of Revelations. (88)\n\nThe Gallant Fool (5) American adventurer in mythical kingdom; comedy drama. (72)\n\nGarden of Allah (9) Alice Terry in film version of Hichens' famous novel. Made in Europe and North Africa by Rex Ingram. (99)\n\nThe General (8) Buster Keaton burlesques an actual event of the Civil War \u2014 capturing a locomotive in the South and racing North. (146)\n\nGeraldine (7) Story of a shy girl's blooming. (A109)\n\nGinger (5) Story of a girl of the slums and her development into a lady. (92)\n[8] Girl Shy - Harold Lloyd's comedy about a shy young man who falls in love. (109)\n[5] Gold Grabbers - Drama set in the West, showing how right prevails. (146)\n[9] The Gold Rush - Charlie Chaplin's most ambitious picture, depicting life in Alaskan mining camps. (146)\n[3] The Half-Back - Story by Ralph Henry Barbour. (78)\nT. Haviland Hicks, Freshman - Perennial contest between freshmen and sophomores provides theme. (78)\nSymbols and reference-numbers are explained on page 3.\nSeventh Edition\nENTERTAINMENT\n5 FC Pictures Corporation\nOperating Film Classic Exchange\n265 Franklin St., Buffalo, N.Y.\nC Greatest Educational and Religious Film Library in the United States, including over 4,000 reels of selected subjects, both talking and silent. Equipment for Talking and Silent Programs sold, rented, and complete programs furnished.\nThe Heart of a Coward (5) When his mother was about to lose her home, he proved himself a real boy. (72)\nHearts and Spangles (6) Wanda Hawley in a circus story. (54, 72)\nHeritage (4) Story of a street waif who is reunited with his parents. (109)\nHis Dog (8) Regeneration of a derelict through love of a dog. (109)\nHis Last Race (6) How determination can conquer all obstacles. (72)\nHis Master's Voice (6) The boy who is a coward at heart but who makes good in life's drama. (72)\nThe Homekeeping of Jim (2) Drama of home life. (114, 164)\nHot Water (5) Adventures of a bridegroom with his in-laws. Harold Lloyd comedy. (109)\nLittle Annie Rooney (9) Mary Pickford in story of New York slum life, with some very boisterous action. (146)\nLittle Lord Fauntleroy (10) Mary Pickford gives a very fine and strong performance. (10)\nThe Ice Ticket - Amusing comedy (62)\nIvory Snuff Box - Holbrook Blinn in a romance adventure (164)\nThe Kickoff - George Walsh in a college football story (54)\nThe Littlest Scout - Children enact this story of youngsters copying their elders (21, 35)\nLove Harbor - Story of friendship centered around three old seadogs and the love of a little girl (164)\nMaking the Varsity - Rex Lease in college athletic story (54)\nThe Mark of Zorro - One of Douglas Fairbanks' finest films \u2014 high adventure and romance strangely uplifting in its effect (146)\nThe Martyr Sex - Story of the Kentucky hills (72)\nMazok of the South Sea - South Sea picture (21)\nThe Mollycoddle - Douglas Fairbanks in lively society adventures of Monte Carlo (146)\nMother of Mine - Produced in France. Thrilling little drama played\nMountains of Manhattan, strong story of determination and will in the life of Napoleon. All-star French cast in historical drama, settings and details authentic. North of '49, western film with scenes photographed at Calgary Rodeo. Old Curiosity Shop, good picture for any audience. One of the Bravest, Ralph Lewis in a story of fire prevention. The Overland Limited, mile-a-minute romantic railroad thriller. Pollyanna, Mary Pickford in a typically wholesome and delightful role from Eleanor Porter's book. The President, mythical kingdom story produced in Europe, starring Moujuskine. Wholesomely thrilling and entertaining. Racing Blood, lively story concerning a race horse. (72 words)\nRob (6) Spectacular romance with glorious scenes of Scotland's Highlands and a cast of 2000 players.\nRomance of a Million Dollars (6) Glenn Hunter in the story of a boy's brave right to justify the trust of a person who believed in him.\nRomola (10) Lillian and Dorothy Gish in George Eliot's classic of the Italian Renaissance, filmed entirely in Italy.\nSally in Our Alley (6) Richard Arlen and Shirley Mason in a delightful romance.\nShattered Dreams (5) From the novel Comrades by Thomas Dixon.\nShattered Lives (6) Story of an adopted boy who turns out to be the real heir.\nThe Shepherd of the Hills (8) Harold Bell Wright's story.\nA Ship Comes In (7) An immigrant becomes an American citizen.\nThe Sign of the Claw (6) - Peter the Great: A silent story about a boy brought to light through his friendship with a dog. (72)\nSomebody's Mother (6) - Dramatic story of mother love, starring Mary. (72)\nThe Sophomore (9) - College life. (A109)\nThe Speed Spook (7) - Comedy with Jimmy Aubrey. (54, 72)\nThe Story the Keg Told Me (3) - A dream of a miser and his keg filled with gold. (\u00a978)\nThe Thief of Bagdad (11) - Douglas Fairbanks' finest achievement in the realm of fanciful and fantastic adventure from the Arabian Nights. (146)\nThirty Years Ago (1) - Old time movie, the first one made. (\u00a978)\nThe Three Musketeers (12) - Rollicking, lively rendering by Douglas Fairbanks of Dumas' great romantic novel. (146)\nThe Two Orphans (5) - Wanderings, troubles and joys of two orphans.\nThe Unbeliever (7) - A war film based on the book \"The Three Things.\"\nUnder the Southern Cross: Vivid picturization of primitive life of New Zealand Maoris (7)\nVenus of the South Seas: Annette Kellerman in spectacular drama of life beneath the waves; many scenes in natural colors (72)\nWhen the Clouds Roll By: Douglas Fairbanks as tenderfoot in the west gets involved in lively adventures and a big flood (146)\nWhen Dawn Came: Colleen Moore starring; a doctor's return to faith through a blind child (36, 54)\nWhy Worry: Harold Lloyd comedy (109)\nThe Winning of Barbara Worth: Picturization of Harold Bell Wright's story of the epic of the West; Ronald Colman and Vilma Banky (146)\nWorld Wanderings: High spots taken from Graham McNamee Universal Newsreel (155)\nYankee Clipper: Story of old clipper ship days (109)\nYankee Doodle Jr. (5) - Rollicking comedy drama of a Yankee lad who starts out to make good and does it with a vengeance. (21, 54, 114, 164) (See also Group 85)\n\nMotion Pictures\nEDUCATIONAL - ENTERTAINMENT 1\nCarefully selected library of motion pictures for school use. Free catalog. (Standard width films only.)\nH. S. Brown, Inc.\n806 South Wabash Avenue, Chicago, III.\n\nSeventh Edition\n\nRELIGIOUS\nGROUP 136\nRELIGIOUS\nAfter Six Days (8) - Old Testament story \u2014 from Creation to Songs of Solomon. (112)\nAmerica \u2014 The Canaan of All Nations 1 1 1\nThe people that have become custodian of freedom in a Christian civilization. (21, 114, 164)\nAmerica- \u2014 Enduring Power for Service (1 1 Half-reel of sermonettes and As We Forgive (2) - Story of present day life paralleling epistle of Paul to Philemon. (109)\nThe Birth of a Race (7) Elements entering the birth of the great race\nThe Bounty of Nature (1) Shows that Nature gives all and withholds by Their Fruits (1) Intense drama based on the Eighth Commandment.\nThe Call of Samuel (1) Story of the little boy named Samuel, whose mother\nThe Chosen Prince (8) Depicts the lives of David and Jonathon. (147)\nThe Christ Child (6) Inspiring scenes. (72, 164)\nChrist Confounds His Critics (11) Sincere picturization of John VIII.\nCristus (7) Story of the life of Christ filmed in the Holy Land on actual spots where it was enacted. (35)\nA Crown of Thorns (8) Life of Our Saviour. (112)\nEucharistic Congress (1 and 4) Complete pictures from the arrival of the papal legate in New York to final ceremonies at Mundelein. (36, 67, 92)\nFaithful for Centuries (6) Struggles of the Waldensians during the Reformation time by the Roman soldiers. (72)\nThe Fall of Jerusalem (6) Sacking and burning by Nebuchadnezzar.\nForgive Us Our Debts (2) Story of two debtors.\nFreedom (10) History of Reformation (112)\nThe Full Surrender (1) Story of Ananias and Sapphira (36, 54, 114, 164)\nThe Good Samaritan (1) Based on famous parable, made in original\nThe Gospels Series (12, 1 reel each) Salient events in the Four Gospels.\nHis Birthright (1) Story of Jacob and Esau in modern parlance (49, 114)\nHoly Bible Series (30) Thirty one-reel subjects from \"Creation\" to \"Solomon in all His Glory\" (49, 164)\nHoly Night (1) Presentation of the Nativity (72)\nHow Man Inhabits the Earth By Ages (1) Presents novel interpretation of Bible, supplemented by charts, in terms of known events (A19)\nImmunity: \"If a man dies, shall he live again?\" answered in nature's analogies (21, 54, 72, 114, 164).\nJesus the Christ: Passion and life of Christ (36, 54, 67).\nJoseph and His Brethren: Reverent delineation of the Old Testament narrative (147).\nKing of Kings: Superb spectacle of the life of Christ (A109).\nThe Life of Christ: Christ before Pilate, his trial, the crucifixion.\nThe Life of Christ: From his birth to Resurrection (6, 8, 67, 114).\nThe Life of Moses: Story of the great law-giver (5). * 72, 164\nPinkney Film Service Co.: A COMPLETE SERVICE for Churches, Schools and Community centers. Projection Machines (silent and for sound \u2014 35 mm. and 16 mm.), Screens and Accessories. Representing American Film Library, Film Classic Exchange, Religious Motion Picture Foundation and DeVry School Films (35 mm. and 16 mm.) in Western.\n1028 Forbes Street, Atlantic 7833, Pittsburgh, PA.\nReligious Group 136 (Continued)\nReligious Life: \"Immortal\" - Shunamite mother and lesson (1) Prophet Elijah taught - The Light of Faith\n- Modern story interwoven about Holy Grail with an unforgettable presentation of Sir Galahad. (21, 36, 49, 54, 72, 114, 164)\n- The Little Shepherd: shows truth of fable, \"Honesty is the best policy.\"\n- The Lord Will Provide: Modern illustration of Biblical text.\n- A Maker of Men: Dramatic story contrasting life of man who lives up to his ideals. (6)\n- The Man Nobody Knows: Picture of places where Jesus lived and worked. Edited and titled by Bruce Barton. (109)\nMartin Luther - His Life and Times: Outstanding events in the great Reformation; made on the scene of the reformer's life. (8)\nMiracle -of Lourdes: Inspiring production. (5)\nMission Bypaths (2) Glimpses of life and work of missionaries in Philippines, India, Siam and China.\nA Modern Ruth Bible story in connection with war story.\nOnerammergau Passion Players (1) Condensed version of the Deluxe Edition of Passion Players of Oberammergau, without the festivities.\nOld Testament in Pictures (Series of 37, 1 reel each) The Creation, The Migration, Sacrifice of Isaac, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Lot, Isaac and Rebecca, Noah and the Ark, Rescue of Lot, Jacob and Rachel, The Deluge, Isaac, the Boy, Jacob and Esau, Abraham and Sarah, Ishmael, Return of Jacob.\nOpen Thine Eyes (1) Abundant beauties of nature. (54, 72, 114, 164)\nOur Heritage of Faith (5) Life of great missionary, Marcus Whitman.\nThe Parish Priest (6) Story of a young clergyman. Especially suitable for\nThe Passion of Christ (1-164)\nThe Passion Play (5-21, 54)\nPassion Players of Oberammergau Deluxe Edition (116) - complete picture of the Passion Players' life at home; scenes of the drama.\nPilgrimage to Palestine Series (109) - detailed listing of subjects under \"Palestine,\" group 33.\nPope Pius X (1) Eucharistic Congress at Montreal (114)\nThe Prince of Peace (1, A-164) - Condensed version of Christ's life. - scenes of Nativity, Passion, Crucifixion, and Resurrection (72).\nThe Prodigal Son (1) - His return from poverty in Damascus to his father in Bethlehem, showing places mentioned in the parable (109).\nRedemption (Serial with 6 episodes of 2 and 3 reels each) - The Garden\nThe Trail of the Serpent; The Prince of Peace; Heroes in Faith; The Universal Question, Part I and Part II; God's Religious Sects (documentary); Regeneration of David Hunt; Story of a lover of boys who becomes an unbeliever but is won back to Christ (References: 35, 72, 134); The Rich Young Ruler; Dramatization of Matthew XIX, 16-23, Changing an agnostic into a believer through contact with the church (References: 114, 164); Spiritual Law in the Natural World; Scenic presentation of the truth that nature is controlled by law (References: 21, 54, 72, 114, 164); Social Service in the Cumberlands; At the Blue Spring Community House (Tenn.); A minister is consecrating his life to mountain people (Reference: 30).\nThe Stream of Life (5) Human drama with a gospel message of faith\nThe Universal Samaritan (1) Contrasting races of mankind and nature - the Samaritan that befriends them all. (54, 114, 164)\nAn Unwelcome Guest (1) Anointing of Jesus' feet by the sinful woman.\nThe Widow's Mite (1) Lesson in unselfishness. (114, 164)\n\nComedies\nAndy Gump Comedies (1) Series of cartoon comedies by Sidney Smith.\nBobby Bumps Cartoons (1) Series of 10. (164)\nCharlie Chaplin Comedies (3) Re-releases of early comedies.\nCharlie Chase Comedies (1 & 2) Starring Charley Chase in series. (109)\nChristie Comedies (2) Series. (A51)\nCoronet Talkirrg Comedies (2) Series, featuring Edward E. Horton. (A5D)\nDan the Taxi Man Comedies (2) Series of Mack Sennett subjects. (109)\nDorothy Devore Comedies (2) Subjects featuring the girl comedy star.\nFelix the Cat Cartoons (1) Series of animated cartoon character.\nHamilton Comedies (2) Lloyd Hamilton starring in (A51)\nHenry and Polly Comedies (2) (109)\nHey Fellas Comedies (2) Series of seven (72, 164)\nHow It's Done in Hollywood (2) Showing small town movie company trying to duplicate Hollywood's fashion of production (A123)\nIdeal Comedies (2) Jerry Drew featuring in (A51)\nJerry on the Job Cartoons (1) Series of ten (164)\nJuvenile Comedies - \"Big Boy\" (2) Series of kid comedies (51)\nKrazy Kats (1) Series of one reel each (164)\nHarry Langdon Comedies (2) Two reels each.\nHarold Lloyd Comedies Several of his most popular short comedies.\nLupino Lane Comedies (2) Series of 2-reel subjects (A51)\nMack Sennett Brevities (1) Series of novelty comedies (A51)\nMermaid Comedies (2) Series of 2-reel subjects (A51)\nMutt and Jeff Cartoons (1) Series of Bud Fisher's laugh producers (133) Our Gang Comedies (2) Popular series with juvenile cast (88) Out of the Inkwell Comedies (1) Series of Max Fleischer's animated (54) Regular Gang Comedies (2) Series of comedies for boys and girls (54) Sennett Girl Comedies (2) Series produced by Mack Sennett (109) Smith Family Comedies (2) Series produced by Mack Sennett (109) Smitty Comedies (2) Series of 2-reel subjects (109) Tired Business Man Comedies (2) Produced by Mack Sennett (109) Tuxedo Comedies (2) Series featuring Wallace Lupino (A51) Twisted Tales (1) Comedies with an unexpected ending (133)\n\nNEWS REELS, WEEKLIES AND NOVELTY SUBJECTS\n\nAesop's Fables (1) Cartoon series originated by Paul Terry (109, 110) Along the Moonbeam Trail (2) Story of prehistoric America and the monsters that roamed the plains (49, 54)\nTwelve releases in the American Holiday Series, appropriate novelties for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Mother's Day, Labor Day, Memorial Day. Bruce Barton Film Editorials: Series of five. Bray Magazine: Series of one-reel subjects. Bray Nature Pictures: Series of nature studies. Cinema Color Reels: Little stories, scenics in color. Dog Dramas: Series of ten. Russ Farrell Aviator: Series of adventure stories, featuring Reed. Film Facts: Scenics. Finding His Voice: Recounting in cartoon pictures and full speech and sound, the adventures of an old-fashioned silent film. Flashes of the West: Series of 16 different subjects, about four subjects to the reel. Fun From the Press: Series of 36. From Literary Digest re-edited pen and pencil cartoon sketches.\nHandy Andy Series (2) - 109 - Two-reel subjects.\nLyman H. Howe's Hodge Podge (1) - One-reel novelty subjects offering some sense and some nonsense.\n94 NEWS REELS AND NOVELTIES \"1000 and One\"\nNews Reels, Weeklies and Novelty Subjects (Continued)\nHow Eyes Tell Lies (1) - Optical illusions and the kaleidoscope.\nIf You Could Shrink (y2) - Combination of photomicrography, animated drawings and normal photography make this film amusing. (#20)\nKelly Colors (1) - Scenics in natural colors. (133)\nKinograms (1) - News reel, released twice a week. (51)\nMagic Reels (1) - Magic tricks shown by ultra-rapid process; 3 in series.\nMarionettes - Tony Sarg (1) - Series of novelty cartoons. (36)\nMarvels of Motion (1) - 13 in series; subjects showing normal, slow and suspended action by Fleischer Novcgraph Process. (133)\nWalter Hagen and Leo Diegel demonstrate championship golf against a background of fun. M-G-M News: News reel series. Movie Horoscopes: 12 releases, one for each month. News Magazines: Series of one-reel each of edited and assembled scenes of current events (164). Paul Terry-Toons: Series of sound cartoons (A51). Reelviews: Single reel series on science and travel (133). Will Rogers' Travelogues: Humorous and scenic series (109). The Skysplitter: Fantastic trip aboard skyrocket car which travels through space past planets and stars (#20). Roving Thomas: Series of novel cartoons combined with photography. Sport and Outdoor Pictures: Series of four (72). Travel Subjects: Series of travel pictures (72). Travel Talks: 24 releases (A56). The Educational Screen: The only magazine (ten numbers a year).\nThis zine in this country is devoted to visual instruction in all its varied phases. Are you looking for reference material on visual instruction? See the list of publications issued by The Educational Screen inside the front cover and center spread. Thousands of people follow the \"Film Estimates\" in the regular issues of The Educational Screen. (See page 124 of this book.)\n\nYour cooperation, please! We cannot hope to have avoided all error in this work. Therefore, the cooperation of all concerned is earnestly invited \u2014 producers, distributors, users everywhere. We shall welcome opinions, suggestions, and above all, specific criticisms. Point out errors and omissions, great or small, whenever and wherever they appear. Preparation for the next edition of \"1000 and One\" has already begun. With the cooperation asked for above, the\nSere eighth Edition\nADVERTISEMENT\nThis Page is Worth 75 cents\nYou will want the next (Eighth) edition of \"1001 and One Films/\" when it is issued. Separately, the book will sell for 75 cents per copy. Only our regular subscribers will be entitled to the book free of charge.\nIf you are not now a subscriber to The Educational Screen, we want you to know that it is the only magazine devoted to visual instruction. Send in your subscription order on the blank below and secure the next edition of \"1001 and One Films\"\u2014 a 75 cent book\u2014 free of charge with your subscription.\nThe Educational Screen\n5 South Wabash Avenue\nChicago, 111.\nKindly enter my name on your regular subscription list. This also constitutes my order for the next edition of \"1001 and One Films.\"\nAnd one film from IASTMAN Classroom Films to be sent free of charge with my subscription.\n\nName,\nAddress,\nCity, State\n\nAdvertisement: A Film Lesson on the Philippine Islands\nTeaching Films that have proven their value in thirty countries,\niASTMAN Classroom Films embody the results of the latest research in visual education, and are so planned as to give substantial help in the teaching of subjects prescribed in standard courses of study. Over one hundred films have been released, and new subjects are coming out constantly; the rate of release being regulated by a determination to offer only material of unquestioned value to schools. That the films so far produced fill this requirement is proved by the fact that they are being used in thirty countries in addition to the United States.\n\nFull information, including a complete list of iASTMAN films.\nClassroom Films will be sent promptly on request.\n\nEastman Teaching Films, Inc.\nSubsidiary of Eastman Kodak Company\nRochester, New York\n\n16-Millimeter Film Subjects\nAll films in this section are available on the small-size, 16-millimeter stock exclusively. Only non-inflammable (safety) stock is ever used for 16 mm. films. The same subject-classifications are used in this section as in the body of the book \u2014 and the same Group Numbers are retained. Throughout this section, the * indicates films in \"sound\" version.\n\nThroughout the body of the book, a great number of 16 mm. films have been listed. They are always indicated by the #. These subjects, however, are also available in the 35 mm. size.\n\n16-Millimeter Section\n\nAgriculture\nGROUP 1 CROPS Cotton\nCotton Growing (1) Divided into four units: Planting and Cultivating\nCotton: The Boll Weevil, Picking Cotton, Preparing Cotton for Market\n\nSugar:\nGroup 2: Beet and Cane Sugar\nSugar (1): Various world regions where plants are found \u2014 way juice is obtained and refined \u2014 how sugar is dried and molded into cubes. (481)\nCane Fields of Calamba (1): Sugar industry of Philippines; old and new methods and picturesque plantation hands. (231)\nMaple Syrup and Sugar (1): Methods of tree tapping, collecting and boiling sap in small camp as compared with those followed in big camp. (48)\n\nWheat:\nGroup 3:\nWheat (1): Visualizing evolution of wheat industry; divided into three units: Pioneer Farming, Wheat Farming with Machinery, Storing and Marketing Wheat. (48)\nFrom Wheat to Bread (1): Depicts primitive methods of making bread; a pioneer grist mill; modern flour mill; modern bakery, showing bread.\nGroup 4: Fruits and Nuts\nPeerless Pineapples of the Pacific: Cultivation, gathering, and packing of pineapples. (23)\nPeanuts: Divided into three units - the growing of peanuts, harvesting, and peanut products. (48) Introductory scenes locate peanut area and show yearly rotation of crops.\n\nGroup 5: Miscellaneous\nCorn: Divided into four units - Method of Planting and Harvesting Corn, The Corn Borer, Husking and Shelling Corn, Manufacture of Corn Flakes and Corn Starch. (48)\nMarket Gardening: Greenhouse construction and gardening contrasted with outdoor gardening in the south; marketing produce by refrigerator. (48)\n\nGroup 6: Livestock - Cattle\nCattle: Divided into following units: Life on a Cattle Ranch, Animal Husbandry, Slaughtering and Processing Cattle, and Dairy Farming. (48)\nGROUP 7 Meat Products\nMeat Packing: Cattle country and the \"feeder belt\" \u2013 shipping of cattle to market \u2013 dressing of beef \u2013 government inspection \u2013 curing\n\nGROUP 8 Dairy Products\nWisconsin Dairies: Milk Production on a Small Farm, A Modern Dairy Farm, Work in a Dairy Plant. (48)\n\nGROUP 10 Miscellaneous\nCalifornia Alligator Farm: Cautious visit amid these queer reptiles.\nCawston Ostrich Farm: Trip through large ostrich farm in California.\nRaising Ostriches in South Africa: Habits and methods of raising the \"elephant of birds.\" (78)\nFarming for Fur: Silver black fox raising. (80)\nRange Sheep: Feeding of orphan lambs \u2013 shearing, marking, counting and pasturing sheep in summer \u2013 marketing some in fall \u2013 caring for rest through winter. (48)\n[The Tale of a Lamb: Dramatized Story of Sheep-Herders\nSeventh Edition\n\n16-MILLIMETER SECTION\nGROUP 14 FORESTRY AND FOREST CONSERVATION\nA Day with the Forest Ranger\nOut in the west with a guardian of our National Forest Parks.\n\nReforestation of Waste Lands\nDivided into three units:\nA Film Lesson on Forest Cutting,\nA Tree Nursery,\nA School Project in Reforestation\n\nGROUP 16 IRRIGATION\nIrrigation\nDivided into three units:\nRoosevelt Dam and Vicinity,\nIrrigation System in the Imperial Valley,\nSan Diego Storage Dam ; Types of Flume Construction ; Irrigation of Orchards ; Introductory scenes depict sagebrush and desert lands, old mission dam, modern irrigation canal.\n\nART, MUSIC AND ARCHITECTURE\nGROUP 17 Art, Music and Architecture\nAn Ancient Art\nModeling in wax.\n\nBeethoven's Moonlight Sonata\nPortrayal of the story of Beethoven's]\nPlaying \"Moonlight Sonata\" for the blind girl to feel the beauty of the moon (18)\nThe Origin of Sir Edward Burne-Jones' King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid (80), featuring Mary Astor and Reginald Denny\nThe Bohemian Girl (5) - Colorful screen presentation of operetta with songs of the South and negro spirituals sung by a sextette of Southland crooners (A18)\nGypsy Melodies (1) - Spanish gypsy melodies ringing with romance\nGypsy Troubadours (1) - Companion picture with different songs and Spanish dances (A18)\nIrish Romance (1) - Film accompanied by real Irish melodies (A18)\nLa Boh\u00e8me (5) - Depiction of the life of the Bohemians in the Latin Quarter of Paris - story of the opera of the same name. Features Alice Models in Motion (1) - for freehand drawing classes - drawings made.\nModels in motion: The Young Painter (2) Inspired by Rembrandt's famous painting of the same title. Features May Astor and Pierre Gendron.\n\nAstronomy (Group 18)\nThe Astronomer's Workshop: Visit to astronomical observatory at Wesleyan University. (80)\nEclipse of the Sun: Clear and interesting exposition. (80)\nThe Heavenly Bodies (1 each)\n1. The Development of Astronomical Knowledge\n2. Gravitation, the Moon, Constellations\n3. The Sun and Its Influence on the Earth\n4. Mercury, Venus, Mars\n5. Jupiter, Saturn, the Milky Way\n6. The Evolution of the Universe. (A18)\n\nThe Sky: The sky, clouds, stars, planets, etc. (77)\n\nBiography (Group 19)\nAbraham Lincoln: Replica of birthplace, incidents in early life, as a country lawyer, other events. (77)\nLindbergh Abroad and in Washington: Shows tremendous ovations accorded him in Paris and other foreign cities and his return to Washington. (47)\n\nLindbergh Captures New York: Triumphant return to the starting point of his epic flight and historic reception accorded him. (47)\n\nMemorials of a Nation: Testimonials of gratitude erected at the Capital as a tribute to outstanding persons and events in history. (110)\n\nRoosevelt Memorial: Made from the high spots of his colorful career.\n\nGeorge Washington: Early life, development, career. (77)\n\n16-Millimeter Section \"1000 and One\"\nChemistry\nGroup 20 Chemistry: Crystals in Formation: Scientific exposition of the formation of crystals. (1)\n\nCIVICS\nGroup 21 Civics: Your Flag and My Flag: Fine Composition. (78)\n\nEducational Activities\nGroup 24 Educational Activities\nBehind the Scenes in Chinatown (2) Varied activities at the Chinese Home for Girls.\nCollege of Emporia Scenes around the campus.\nA Day at Menaul A visit to the campus of a school for Spanish-speaking boys at Albuquerque, New Mexico.\nEnvironment at Summer Conferences Designed to create desire in young people to attend conferences.\nGlimpses of College Life Modern college life vital with the spirit of the Christian college.\nThe Gospel and the Plow Through the medium of kindergarten, Sunday school and boy scout activities, India's youth are taught the Way.\nSilver Bay Demonstrations Handicrafts (170)\nWoodcraft for Boys Wholesome outdoor training given to boys at one of America's celebrated military schools.\nThe Training of Dave Merrill How a young man chosen at random is trained.\nTo teach a Sunday school class trains himself for service. Vacation Church School demonstrates best methods used in these schools. Where Ministers Come From: Students preparing for ministry and missions at work; college scenes; animated drawings.\n\nGENERAL SCIENCE\nGROUP 25\n\nGeneral Science\nAtmospheric Pressure (1)\nDivided into two units: Unbalanced Air Pressure; Atmospheric Pressure Varies in Nature.\n\nCompressed Air (1)\nDivided into five units: Compressed Air Blasts, Compressing Air, Railway Air Brakes, Air Driven Tools, Compressed Air on Fire Engines, Shows varied uses of compressed air.\n\nHot Air Heating (1)\nDivided into four units: The Fireplace, The Stove, The Furnace, Summary Review of Heating Devices, Advances in heating devices traced from camp fire and open fireplace to present-day systems.\nLimestone and Marble: Natural Limestone, Artificial Limestone, Marble\nMold: Specimens of mold on fruit, leather, clothes, and bread \u2013 the way molds grow, develop, and germinate\nNew York Water Supply: Necessity of a water supply sufficient to meet the requirements of millions of residents and commuters and numerous industries\nPurifying Water: Treatment of city water from lakes, removal of sediment from water, disinfection of a city's water supply, testing city water\nSand, Glass, Clay: Sand, Glass, Clay\nWater Cycle: Homely examples illustrate the continuous circulation of water from earth to sky and back to earth again. Examples of evaporation, condensation, precipitation, storage, and run-off.\n\nWater Power: Units include Water Wheels, High Head Water Power Developments, Low Head Water Power Developments, The Hydro- Electric Generator, Transmission, and Use of Electric Power. Provides an appreciative understanding of the importance of water power in generating electricity.\n\nSeventh Edition, 16-Millimeter Section, GEOGRAPHY, Group 26 Human Geography and Anthropology\n\nPeople Who Live in a Crowded Valley: Deals with an isolated part of China; a seaport city \u2013 people, customs, cultivation, canals, fishing, tea culture, rice, etc.\n\nThe Mongols of Central Asia: Shows the peoples of the uplands.\nSteppes of Mongolia \u2013 characteristics, dwellings, games, customs, and clothes. Africa Group 27 Northern Africa Caravans of Sahara (%) Shows Arabian tribes in all their picturesqueness \u2013 their modes of living, dwellings, mosques, etc. (110) Group 28 Egypt Bazaars of Cairo (%) A day in the streets of the Arabian Nights. (23) Egyptian Native Life Camel caravans; public marts; native irrigation. The Mecca Pilgrimage (%) The passing show \u2013 a Dervish chief surrounded by fanatical followers, the sacred \"Mahmal\", etc. (23) The Sacred Scarab (1) Inscriptions of sacred beetle on tombs; habits of beetle. Suburbs of Cairo (^4) Tombs of ancient monarchs, typical street scenes, silhouettes of yesterday and today. (23) Group 29 Central and South Africa An African Adventure (1) Visit to a native village.\nThe Disappearing Jungle (1) White man's transformation of Africa.\n\nGroup 30 Asia China\nChina (%) Travel film showing this country in all its beauty and mystery. (47)\nLife in China (14) Beggars, camel train and native scenes. (69)\nOld China and New (1) Glimpses of the city. (80)\nSouvenirs of Singapore (1) Chinese business men, coolies, Hindu priests and bejewelled Tamil Maidens; glimpses of tapioca industry. (23)\n\nGroup 31 India\nCurious Scenes in India (1) Pictures of the \"Far East\" showing strange people and their stranger ways. (78)\nDancing Girls of India (%), Nautch dancers of India shown in their colorful environment; religious atmosphere of the ceremonial dances in the temple. (47)\nGlimpses of India (%), Temples and statues, bits of native life. (69)\nHealthiest Spot in India (1) Varied series of views of people and scenery. (78)\nHindu Life and Sacrifices: Delhi, Agra, Benares ghats; Fakirs and Snake-Charmers; Cremation of a Hindu Girl; Sacrifices to the Goddess Kali.\n\nAn Oriental Album: Beautiful scenes of the Rajah's palace - the crown jewel of India; all the glamour and romance of Arabian Nights.\n\nGroup 32: Japan\nGlimpses of the Country of Arts and Crafts: Japan.\n\nA Japanese Cabaret: Entertainers play samisens and drums; ancient dances.\nJapanese Table Manners: Shows dainty darlings of Japanese night life using their \"hashi\" or chopsticks.\nRambling Around Old Japan: Interesting spots in the city.\nThey Went to See in a Rickshaw: Pleasing and picturesque Japanese scenic.\nTying the Japanese Obi: The dressing of a feminine idol of Kyoto's great white way.\nYokohama Sights in the city seen by Tourists (69)\n16-Millimeter Section \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 33 Geography\nBethany in Judea: Grain is still cut by hand in the harvest fields and carried on the heads of women workers and by camels. Ruins of the house of Simon the Leper. (4, 110)\nThe Holy Land: Life and customs which have changed little. (78)\nGroup 34 General\nGrass: The semi-annual migration and struggle of a Persian tribe to find food for their flocks; up precipitous slopes, over crags and through snow-choked passes and then the descent to Grass. (47, 80)\nIn Siamese Society: Curious and amusing afternoon tea party in a Persian Wedding. Marriage ceremony. (1, 18)\nQueer Korean Customs: Seeing the sights of Seoul. (23)\nRubbering in Selangor: Rubber industry of the Federated Malay States. (23)\nEurope\nGroup 36 British Isles\nIn Old England, contrast between rural scenery of Albion and that of our own country. Stratford-on-Avon, visit to birthplace of William Shakespeare. Rural Ireland, views of Emerald Isle with its castles, rivers, stones, crags and the \"Blarney Stone\".\n\nGroup 37, France\nCafe Life in Paris, glimpses of the happy side of life at the cafes. Paris, modern views of the French Capital \u2014 Eiffel Tower, Trocadero, the Louvre and others. Paris Markets, visit to the great food market; the Philatelic Bazaars; Foire Aux Croutes. Ten Years After, the battlefields of France as they are today. Corsica \u2014 Napoleon's Homeland, streets, buildings, daily life of people.\n\nGroup 38, Germany\nGolden Fleece, sheep raising in the Black Forest; beautiful scenery.\n\nGroup 39, Italy\nBella Napoli, Naples, Vesuvius and Capri.\nRome (47) Inspiring tour of the Eternal City with glimpses of many famous buildings.\nRuins of Rome (69) Exteriors and interiors of well-known ruins.\nRuins of Pompeii (*4) Tour of excavations.\nGroup 41 Spain\nA Castle in Spain (*4) Beautiful scenes of the Alhambra in Granada.\nIn Old Granada (1) Picturesque gypsy cave dwellings in the hillsides; Alhambra Hill and river Darro; Court of Lions (23).\nSeville in Fair Time (%) Joyous throngs, street dancing and other joys of fair time (23).\nThe Snow Bound Pyrenees (1) Peaks and valleys of Pyrenees in mid-winter (23).\nToledo and Segovia (1) Old Roman Aqueduct; churches, monuments, streets and structures of old cities (23).\nGroup 43 General\nBustling Brussels (%), King Albert's Palace, the Bourse, boulevard life, Palace of Justice, the Flower Market and old Hotel de Ville (23).\nOther films shown throughout book. Seventh Edition.\n\nAdvertisement\n\nThe Standard 16-Millimeter Projector\nfor schools, churches, clubs and large homes\n\nKodascope, Model A \"V7\"\nYears of use, under all conditions, have proven the worth of this Eastman projector. It is extremely simple \u2013 anyone can operate it. It projects pictures that are unexcelled for illumination, brilliance and definition. It is sturdily built, to withstand hard, continuous work. Aside from this, Model A is exceptionally \"kind\" to films. They are subjected to a minimum of wear and tear, and last indefinitely \u2013 a very important consideration.\n\nDetails:\nSize: 18.5 x 14 x 10 inches. Weight: 25 pounds.\nCOiOr 10-millimeter motion, 1inch or 2inch focus, projecting a 39 x 52-inch picture.\nPictures in full Color. At 11 or 23 feet. Focused by a handy knob. Also, a 5-inch lens supplied unless otherwise. Kodascope A is used with thousands of circuits, 105-10-125 volts. Controlled by rheostats; lamp amperage indicated by ammeter. A special rheostat adapts Kodascope to 210-250-volt circuits. 32-volt homes in all parts of the world. Equipment furnished for home generators. Framing and leveling screws for accurate screen register. Rewinding mechanism: Geared for quick winding by hand. Supplied with two 400-foot reels, splicing and oiling outfits, extra lamp.\n\nPrices\nTVT Kodascope, Model A (105-125 volts), with\nTVT Kodascope, Model A (32 volts), with 165-watt lamp.\nKodascope, Model A (105-125 volts), with 5-inch lens (falso 1-inch or 2-inch lens), and 250-watt lamp - $275.00\n\nGeography\nGROUP 43 (Continued) Europe\nBulgaria (2)\nIndustries: customs.\nChildren of Holland I\nShowing the little tots of this land.\nA Dutch Treat 1 3 4 | Journey through picturesque Holland. (47)\nGoing to Volendam I 1J\nGlimpses of steamboats, launches, and sailboats: windmills. (23)\n\nRomania (1)\nLumbering and farming.\n\nNorth America\nGROUP 44 Alaska\nAlaska (1)\nScenery, industries and life: gold mining, salmon fishing, seal hunting, whaling, native life and schools. (4S, 77)\nAlaskan Adventures 1 2 | Pictorial record of the journey of two daring explorers who penetrated the great Alaskan wilderness with bows and arrows.\n\nGroup 45 Canada\nWhere it's Always Vacation Time: Algonquin Park. Group 46: Polar Regions - Glimpses of Greenland: Pictures of icebergs, Esquimaux, seal hunting, native villages and homes, Arctic flowers, native clothing. The Great Arctic Seal Hunt. Reykjavik, Capital of Iceland: Interesting views \u2014 curious coiffures, hot spring laundry, art of wrestling, etc. United States (Continental) Group 47: East Chesapeake Bay: Shows the Norfolk area \u2014 oyster and crab industries; Baltimore area, including views of Naval Academy. The Heart of the Adirondacks: The Big Woods and brilliant views of Long Lake and Lake George. The Mohawk Valley: Divided into three units: The Valley in Pioneer Days, The Valley Today, A Trip through the Valley. Catskill Mountains.\nAdirondacks and Mohawk Valley, Great Falls of Niagara I (48) Impressions of this grand old waterfall. Niagara Falls I 1 Shows the famous falls in all their known aspects and several that are not so well known. Niagara Falls I 1 Fine and complete scenic. Niagara Falls x4 Seen from unusual points filmed both in daylight and at night. (47)\n\nNiagara's Summer Sorcery Niagara in summer. (18)\nNiagara's Winter Wizardry Winter film of the falls. (18)\nThe Scenic Hudson River Scenic beauty. (125)\nThrough the Thousand Islands 1 Scenes of this waterway. (1125)\n\nGROUP 4S Central and South\nOld Forts of Florida 14r Historical trip in Florida depicting all the ancient fortresses of the Spaniards. (110)\nUp in the Air after Alligators I 1 An airplane trip into the Florida Everglades to capture alligators. (SO)\nGroup 49, Northwest\nColumbia River Highway (%) A journey along the well-known highway of Oregon, showing the far-famed Multnomah Falls. (125)\nThe Oregon Country Scenes along early trails to Oregon contrast with scenes along the same routes today. (1 4 ^ i)\nA Real Rodeo I Real pictures of a real rodeo photographed at the Pendleton round-up \u2014 one of the outstanding events of the West. (47)\nA Saddle Journey to the Clouds 111 Trip by saddle and pack animals up Mt. Humphrey and Mt. Ritter, California. 1 S!11\nOther 16 mm. films shown throughout book.\n\nSeventh Edition 16-Millimeter Section\nGEOGRAPHY\n\nGroup 50, United States Central West\nAscending- Pike's Peak (!/4) Unusual picture of this mountain giant, and interesting scenes of the Cog Road. (125)\nCave of the Winds (1) Another one of Colorado's wonders. (18)\nMt. Manitou and Incline Railway, Intimate glimpses of real western scenery in Pike's Peak region.\nA Trip Up Pike's Peak by Cog Road - One of Colorado's scenic sights.\nTrout Fishing at Seven Falls - Scenic in Cheyenne Canyon, Colo.\nFeather River Canyon, Cal. - Picture full of action and scenery as you pass through canyon on Transcontinental Limited.\nThe Golden Gate\n- The Bay of San Francisco\n- In San Francisco\n- The Pacific Trade of San Francisco.\nGROUP 51 Southwest\nThe Arid Southwest - Location of hot deserts; effects of wind and erosion in Arizona Desert; desert plants and animals; life of Navajo.\nThe Grand Canyon of Arizona - The canyon from many angles.\nThe Grand Canyon of the Colorado - Trails, Indian dances and life.\nSanta Fe, the City Different - Interesting homes and buildings.\nThe Rio Grande (1) Depicts source of the river, nature of country; Elephant Butte Dam; irrigation projects, etc. (48, 77)\nThe Beautiful Homes and Foliage of Pasadena (%) Many of the world's most beautiful homes pictured in all glory of California atmosphere. (125)\n\nGROUP 52 The United States in Five Minutes (^4) Views of various widely-known show-places throughout the country. (110)\n\nGROUP 53 Cities\nIntimate Views of Cleveland (%) Scenes of a great city and some of the points of interest. (125)\nAn Aerial Trip over New York (%) The city seen from the air. (47)\nNew York Harbor (%) Boats from every port and a cruise along the water front. (125)\nThe New York Way Called Broad (%) Looking down at the Grand Canyon of Broadway from a skyscraper. (23)\nNew Orleans (1) Shows Spanish-French influence in historic section; (1)\nVariety of exports and imports along river front; scenes of Mardi Gras.\n\nGroup 54 National Parks and Forests\nBryce Canyon National Park: Bryce and Zion park films.\nAn Aerial Flight over Glacier National Park: Aerial pictures of mountains, glaciers, and lakes.\nGlacier National Park: Flora and fauna of the park; life of Indians encamped; possibilities of the park as a national playground. Method of formation of national parks explained.\nGlacier Park No. 1 and 2 (each): Beautiful scenes.\n\nDown the Bright Angel Trail into the Grand Canyon: A Grand Canyon National Park film.\n\nYellowstone National Park: Molten lava, obsidian cliffs, hot springs, mud volcanoes; explains action of geysers; bird and animal life. (48, 77)\nYellowstone National Park: Geysers, falls, canyon and lake; also many wild animals. (80)\n[Yellowstone: A Broad General Survey, 18] Pools and Cascades of the Yellowstone: Pools, Paint Pots, Mud Volcano, Gascades of Fire Hole River. [18] Terraces of the Yellowstone Springs and the terraces, one of Yellowstone's famous features. [18] Geysers of the Yellowstone: Largest geysers in action. [18] Bird and Animal Life in Yellowstone: Badger, bears, whitetail deer, bighorn sheep, antelope, buffaloes, gulls and elk. [18] Find distributors by reference -numbers (pages 129-125)\n\n16-Millimeter Section\nGEOGRAPHY\nGROUP 54 (Continued) National Parks and Forests\n\nYosemite National Park [1] Views of well-known peaks, mountain lakes, Yosemite Falls and Bridal Veil Falls; scenes of winter sports. [48]\nYosemite Valley [^4] Spectacle of a world-famous playground. [r 125]\nYosemite: Cliffs from Below, Cliffs from Above, Waterfalls of Yosemite, Animal Life in Yosemite (4 reels each) - photographed by Arthur C. Pillsbury\nYosemite Park Wild Flowers (2 reels) - views of flowers and landscape\nYosemite, Grand Canyon and Rocky Mountain Parks (1 reel) - glimpses of America's most marvelous natural formations\nZion National Park (4 reels) - beautiful rugged country\nGROUP 55 Indians\nIndians at the Pendleton Rodeo (1 reel) - Indian village, parade and dances\nNavajo Indian Life (5 reels) - daily life, habits, customs, legends, religion, primitive ways of American Indians\nCentral America and Mexico (1 reel) - characteristic scenes in town and country; methods of logging mahogany; growing and harvesting bananas, cacao, and coffee.\nMexico: Native life and activities illustrate possibilities and progress of this country.\n\nPanama Canal: Divided into following units: Location of Panama Canal and Construction Obstacles; Construction of Canal, Traffic going through Canal.\n\nPanama and the Canal Zone: Self-explanatory.\n\nTorrid Tampico: Sea scapes and wharves.\n\nGroup 57 South America: Sons of the Sun-God (Peru and the Incas).\n\nWhere They Go Rubbering: In the interior of South America.\n\nGoing Up to Iguazu: River rapids and falls.\n\nGroup 58 Islands\u2014 Atlantic: Beautiful Bermuda: Hamilton and St. George; Government house and sports. Haiti, Jamaica, Nassau and Curacao: Interesting views. Porto Rico, Martinique, Barbados and Trinidad: Glimpses of these islands.\nHavana Streets, buildings, parks, etc. (47)\nUnder Cuban Skies Harbor entrance; Port Cabanas; Morro Castle.\nGROUP 59 ISLANDS\u2014 Pacific Islands\u2014 Pacific\nFire Walkers of Beqa Unique pictures of an ancient and rarely performed sacred rite of Fiji Islanders. (23)\nFarmers of Formosa Quaint oriental cultivation of rice; sugar industry. (23)\nPush-Car Trails in Formosa Hiking by rail into the wild interior where camphor stills are nestled in mountains; bamboo houses. (23)\nHawaiian Islands Divided into five units: Honolulu and Its Surroundings, the Pineapple Industry, Native Life, Cane Sugar Industry, Kilauea. (48)\nKauai \u2014 The Garden Island of Hawaii Fertile fields and winding creeks. (23)\nHow Batik is Made in Java Self-explanatory. (23)\nStreet Life in Java Interesting glimpses of crowded thoroughfares.\nThe Philippine Islands divided into five units: Manila for sugar, coconuts, rice, and hemp. Introductory scenes of tropical beauty. Other 16 mm. films shown throughout the book.\n\nSeventh Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\nYou need.\nB. I.G, Bright Pictures\nfrom 16mm film\n\nAll three models of The Ampro Precision Projector share the same distinguishing features, but each is differently designed in its illuminating system to suit three respective fields of utility. Prices from $165.\n\nA pitch-dark room is not always easy. And BIG pictures that all can see, are necessary. Moreover, there are times when the projector must be used in the auditorium or lecture hall, with an audience of hundreds or thousands. Under those conditions, Ampro's capacity to project 9x12 foot pictures of genuine theatre brilliance, clarity and steadiness from 16 millimeter film is essential.\nI. Precision Projector details will be furnished upon request to The Ampro Corporation, 2839 N. Western Ave., Chicago, IL.\n\nPrecision Projector\n16-millimeter section \"1000 and On\" (Group 59) Geography\nIslands\u2014 Pacific\nTagalog Toilers (1) Salt industry of Luzon; Philippine rice industry.\nA Polynesian Odyssey (1) Island of Bali.\nSamoa \u2014 Coconuts and Copra\nHarbor of Apia; picking coconuts; making copra; natives dancing the Siva-Siva. (23)\nSumatra's Big Baboon College\nThe Tonga Isles (V2) South Sea Islands; home life. (23)\n\nGEOLOGY, PHYSIOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY (Group 60)\nGeology, Physiography and Meteorology\nThe Birth of the Earth (1) Illustration of the nebular theory of the formation of the solar systems. (80)\nBirth of a Tornado: Explanation of cause and operation of a tornado. Mt. Etna: Eruption of lava pouring down the mountain; crowds fleeing; buildings crumbling. Kilauea: Photographic record of the world's largest active volcano. Origin of Coal: Explanation of the age-long process of coal formation. Tides and the Moon: Illustrating the moon's mass in drawing water of the ocean toward the side upon which it is shining.\n\nCharting the Skies: Showing instruments used for recording air velocities, temperatures, etc. The Science of Weather Prediction: Operation of a government weather bureau.\n\nBetsy Ross: Historical and patriotic story of the making of the first American Flag; featuring Alice Brady.\n\nGroup 61: Government Activities\n- Charting the Skies: Showing instruments used for recording air velocities, temperatures, etc. (80)\n- The Science of Weather Prediction: Operation of a government weather bureau. (80)\n\nGroup 63: Historical Fiction\n- Betsy Ross: Historical and patriotic story of the making of the first American Flag; featuring Alice Brady. (5)\n[The Heart of a Hero (6) A visualization of the life of Nathan Hale, featuring Robert Warwick. (80)\n\nGroup 66 Telephone\nHow the Telephone Talks (1) Scientific explanation for the layman. (80)\n\nGroup 67 General Electricity\nChemical Effects of Electricity (1) Action of two electrodes in an electrolyte traced from crude beginnings by Volta, through modern battery manufacture and use, electrolysis, electroplating to metallurgy of copper and aluminum. (48)\nHeat and Light from Electricity (1) Electricity in series and parallel circuits; Ohm's Law: manufacture and use of conductors, insulators, lamps, arc furnaces and heating equipment. (48, 77)\n\nGroup 68 Engineering Achievements\nHow Brooklyn Bridge Was Built (1) Scientific animated drawing explaining one of world's greatest engineering achievements. (80)\n\nGroup 69 Electrical Machinery]\nHigh-Frequency (Coreless) Induction Furnaces (1) Actual operation of several high-frequency induction furnaces including sectional views of furnace, action of \"lines of force,\" and direction of stirring. (2)\n\nGroup 70 Automotive Machinery\nThe Automobile (1) Production and use of iron, rubber, glass, and gasoline in the automobile. (48)\nR. P. M. (%) Automobile motors; motor development; thrills of great speedways that are working laboratories for motor development. (HO)\n\nSeventh Edition 16-Millimeter Section\nIndustry and Engineering\nGroup 71 Miscellaneous Machinery\n\nHow Movies Move (1) Explanation of Geneva Star and Cam on Maltese Cross mechanism. (80)\nRefrigeration (1) Ammonia compression system of refrigeration applied to artificial ice-making and household mechanical refrigeration. (48)\nFour-Stroke Cycle Gas Engine (1) Shows it in a single cylinder \"T-head\" configuration.\nHead: Type: motor. (48)\n\nSimple Machines: (1) Lever and inclined plane are developed as fundamental to other machines. Principles of mechanical advantage, work, efficiency, and conservation of energy are applied. (48)\n\nGROUP 72: Power\nElectric Power in the Southern Appalachians: (1) Divided into three units: Before Water Power Was Developed, Developing Water Power, After Water Power Was Developed. Shows progress in the South in industry and living conditions. (48)\n\nSteam Power: (1) Early steam engines and explanations of improvements which made steamboat possible. (48)\n\nNATURAL PRODUCTS AND PROCESSES:\n\nGROUP 73: Fishing Industry\nBrown Gold: (1) Caviar fisheries of the Black Sea. (A18)\nNew England Fisheries: Cod Fisheries: (1) Divided into following units: Equipment for Cod Fishing, Catching Cod Fish, Preparing Cod for Market, Annual Memorial Services. (48)\nNew England Fisheries: Mackerel (1) Catching and Preparing Mackerel for Market. (48)\nCatching Salmon in Oregon (%) Salmon catching methods and hatchery processes. (23)\nPacific Coast Salmon (1) Abundant salmon swimming to spawning beds; natural and artificial spawning, seine and trap fishing, packing and canning. (48)\nSalmon Fishing on Banks of Puget Sound (1) Commercial salmon fishing. (18)\nWhaling in the South Pacific (1) In-depth exploration of the thrilling industry.\nGROUP 74 Lumbering and Forest Products\nCalifornia Lumber Flume (%) A '49ers relic still in use. (18)\nConquering Cypress (1) Logging in Florida cypress swamps. (18)\nLumbering in the Pacific Northwest (1) Laying railroads, dragging logs by steel cables, sawing logs into lumber, drying, planning and sub-processing. (18)\nQuentin's Sorting and Shipping. (48)\nMan's Triumph over the Mighty Forest. (1) Life in a lumber camp and scenes of log floating in the great Northwest. (78)\nRosin for the World. (1) How we obtain rosin. (18)\n\nMining\u2014 Coal and Oil\nAnthracite Coal. (1) Divided into six units: The Miner Goes to Work, Timber Supports in the Mine, Blasting Coal, Removing Coal from the Mine, The Breaker, Cleaning and Grading Coal. Anthracite region located in Pennsylvania. (48)\n\nBituminous Coal. (1) Methods used in mining of soft coal and the making of coke. (48)\n\nMexican Oil Fields. (1) How oil is drilled for, struck, tanked, piped, and shipped. (23)\n\nProducing Crude Oil. (1) Work preliminary to drilling; drilling operations; methods of transporting oil from fields to coast cities. (48)\n\nMining\u2014 Miscellaneous\nCommon Salt. (1) Nature and action of salt; contrasts methods used in its production.\nExtracting, purifying, drying, and bagging surface and rock salt deposits. Find distributors by reference numbers (pages 129-ff).\n\n110 16-millimeter section \"1000 and One\"\nNatural Products and Processes\nGroup 76 (Continued) Mining -- Miscellaneous\n\nThe Mining and Smelting of Copper (1)\nPhysical properties of metal: states in which it is found; methods by which it is mined, concentrated, and smelted. (48)\n\nLead (1)\nWay in which ore is mined and smelted; multiple uses of metal in industry: process of making white lead. (48)\n\nTin (1)\nOpencast mining, sluicing, and bucket dredging shown in world's richest tin mines (Malay States); processes of making tin products. (48)\n\nA Trip to Cripple Creek (i1^)\nFew moments among greatest gold and silver mines in the world. (125)\n\nManufactured Products and Processes\nGroup 78 Building Materials\nFrom 44. Gathering of licorice roots, removal of licorice extract and manufacture from fibre residue of fire extinguisher, box-board, wall-board and insulating board.\n\n79. Clothing, Textiles and Leather\n1. Cotton Goods: Carding, twisting and drawing of yarn and production of thread; weaving and testing of cotton fabrics; uses of cotton.\n\n1.1.1 Traces of flax from plant and seed stage through threshing to line flax; spinning of flax; weaving and bleaching of linen.\n\nLuzon Lingerie (1). Designing and making of exquisite lingerie in the Philippines.\n\nSiik (1). Raw silk culture in Japan; country traversed to reach industrial centers of United States; methods of production in modern factory.\n\n1. Woolen Goods: Sources of wool: contrasts methods of carding, spinning and weaving homespun and factory-made woolens.\nLeather: Typical and unusual sources of leather; tanning methods; making of shoes by hand contrasted with manufacture by modern machinery.\n\nGroup 81: Metal Manufacturing\nIron Ore to Pig Iron: Shows mining, transportation and smelting of iron ore. Steel bridge in course of construction; uses of steel in everyday life. Pig Iron to Steel: Divided into three units; The Open Hearth Furnace, The Blooming Mill, The Finishing Mill. Traces progress of the ore through mining process to finished product.\n\nSilver: Manufacture of sterling flatware and hollowware; production of plated ware and mirrors; uses and importance of silver in photographic industry.\n\nGroup 82: Paper and Publications\nBooks \u2014 From Manuscript to Classroom: A complete and dramatic story of the making of a textbook. (167)\nThe Cure: Manufacture of law books. (44)\nFrom Tree to Newspaper: Getting out logs for wood pulp: floating logs to pulp mill: making wood pulp, paper making. (Group 83) Furniture Making: Contrasts important period styles of the past with styles of today; master craftsmen at work; modern methods in machine production. (48) Glass Blowing, I & II: Correct procedure and manipulations for elementary glass blowing with Pyrex glass; procedure for joining two tubes; method of blowing bulbs. (48) Happy Hours: Making of crepe paper flowers. (170) Rubber: Traces product from plantation in Sumatra through manufacturing of tires, tennis shoes, and fountain pens in the United States. (48, 77) Other 16 mm films shown throughout book.\n\nSeventh Edition 16-MILLIMETER SECTION\nMANUFACTURED PRODUCTS\nGROUP 83 (Continued) Miscellaneous\nSoap: I. Contrasts between home-making and factory methods; why waters harden; soap's action in hard and soft water.\n\nTableware: Modern methods of manufacture compared to old.\n\nLiterature and Drama\nGroup 85.\n\nThe Barefoot Boy: I. Inspired by John Greenleaf Whittier's famous poem of the same name. (80)\n\nThe Brook: Tableau of pictures interpreting the poet's mood. (1)\n\nThe Cricket on the Hearth: Famous Charles Dickens story featuring all familiar characters. (80)\n\nThe Headless Horseman: Screen presentation of Washington Irving's famous story, with Will Rogers. (80)\n\nThe Hoosier Schoolmaster: Depiction of rural life in Indiana about ten years before the Civil War. (5)\n\nLady Windermere's Fan: A sophisticated society drama. (6)\nPlay by Oscar Wilde, featuring Irene Rich, May McAvoy, Ronald Colman, and Bert Lytell. (80)\nOthello (6) Production of Shakespeare's play, featuring Emil Jannings.\nPeck's Bad Boy (5) From the famous story of the same title, featuring Jackie Coogan as the little scamp.\nThe Pied Piper of Hamlin (2) A production of Robert Browning's legendary poem of the same name. ('69)\nNatural Science\nGroup 86\nPlant Life\nPlant and Flower Life (A series of 13 reels I photographed by Arthur C. Pillsbury. The titles are: Iris, Lupine, Pride of the Mountains; Azalea and Sneeze-Weed; Blazing Star, Stream Orchid and others; Poppy, Wild Parsnip; Tidy Tip, Monkey Flower: Blue Lupine, White Lilac, Blue Camass; The Evening Primrose, Mariposa Tulip: Washington Lily, Hen and Chickens, and others; Orchids. 1 & 2; Tiger Lily, Vesper Iris. Sprout-\nBean Seed and Chinese Lily: Passion Flower, Ruby Lily, Radish Seeds, Germinating, and Blackberry Lily; Chrysanthemums, Yellow Rose, Lotus Flower, Cotton Buds and Cotton Balls. (18) Planting and Care of Trees: Two units: Insect Pests of Trees, Planting a Tree. Emphasizes the necessity of proper planting and care of trees. (48)\n\nWild Flowers: Many kinds of flowers live out their life history on the screen \u2014 growing, blossoming and wilting. (48)\n\nWe make 16 mm positive motion picture prints from 35 mm positives without the expense of making a duplicate negative. A full line of all makes of 16 mm projectors and accessories for school uses.\n\nCatalog of 16 mm pictures on request. Some excellent 16 mm pictures loaned free to schools in Pacific Coast States.\n\nDescriptive matter on the new Cine Voice 16 mm.\n16-millimeter Section \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 87 Animal Life: Domestic Animals\nHollywood's School for Dogs: A Day at the Training Quarters of Henry East, Famous Coach, Who Develops Ambitious Pups for the Screen.\nLeading a Dog's Life: Man's Faithful Friend at Work as Beast of Burden in the Far North, and as Hunting and Police Dog.\nPassing of the Fire-Horse: A Story Written Around the Passing of the Faithful Fire-Horse.\nGroup 88 Wild Animals\nAfrican and Indian Rhinoceros: Subject of Raymond L. Ditmars (18 pages)\nAfrican, Indian, and Pygmy Elephants: Various Types of Elephants Photographed by Raymond Ditmars (18 pages)\nThe Anthropoid Apes: Studies of the Gorilla and Chimpanzee (18 pages)\nCapturing a Wild Stallion, An adventure with the wild horses of the great Southwest deserts. (18)\nThe Cat Animals, The lion, tiger and leopard. (18)\nHousekeeping at the Zoo, A Raymond Ditmars subject. (80)\nMountain Sheep, A study of the Rocky Mountain sheep, the African aoudad and Himalayan Tahr. (80)\nThe New World Cat Animals, The spotted and black jaguars, ocelots, American wildcat, Canadian lynx, and domestic cat. (18)\nThe Nile and Pygmy Hippopotamus, Camera studies of these two types, made by Raymond Ditmars. (18)\nNorthern Bears, Various bears of the North photographed by Raymond Ditmars. (18)\nThe Orang-Outang, A study made by Raymond Ditmars. (18)\nPrimitive Mammals, The echidna, or duck-billed anteater of Australia, and the platypus or duck bill. (18)\nShedding the Antlers, The American elk. (18)\nSome Rocky Mountain Wild Folk: deer, bear, porcupine, antelope, bison or buffalo, beaver, badger, elk, and coyote at close range. Wild Animals in Their Natural Haunts: jungle animals and Wild Animals of the Rockies. Wild Cattle: American bison or European buffalo and The Wild Creatures in Captivity. A visit to the lion house at feeding. Wild Babies: jungle mothers and their young. The Zebras: photographed by Raymond L. Ditmars.\n\nGroup 89 Smaller Animals\nAnimal Engineers: The American beaver.\nBeavers: Intimate study.\nThe Chameleon: A Raymond L. Ditmars subject.\nA Four-Footed Columbus: Life cycle of the frog.\nFrom Tadpole to Frog: Life history.\nKilling the Killer: Mongoose killing the cobra.\nMonkeys up the Barito River, Borneo. Monkeys in their native home. (80)\nMonkeys of Asia: An interesting camera study. (18)\nNew World Lizards: The chameleon, crested iguana, rhinoceros iguana of Haiti, horned toad and gila monster. (18)\nThe Prairie Dog and the Woodchuck. (18) Photographed by Raymond Ditmars. (18)\nRaccoon: Interesting study. (48)\nSouth American Monkeys: Including the marmoset, red howlers, woolly monkey and sapajous or South American ringtails. (18)\nTiny Housekeepers: Story of the hamster. (A18)\nThe Tortoise: The American box tortoise, Madagascar tortoise and the Galapagos tortoise, the largest species. (18)\nTropical Opossums: The Brazilian, Central American fruit opossum and pygmy opossum of tropical America. (18)\nOther 16 mm films shown throughout book.\nSeventh Edition 16-MILLIMETER SECTION\nGroup 90 Animal Life: Insects and Bugs\nBee Bread (*4) The development of the bee from egg to adult; the gathering, transporting, and storing of pollen by bees. (18, 69)\nEvolution of a Butterfly (*4) From caterpillar. (69)\nFleamobile (*4) An interesting microscopic study showing the common flea, including trained specimens. (69)\nThe Fly's Eye (%, Louis Tolhurst) Excellent microscopic study of this marvelous organ of sight. (18, 69)\nGetting Acquainted with Bees (1) Study of the life and habits of this industrious insect. (78)\nThe Palace of Honey (1) Life of the bee. (A18)\nCastle of Paper (1) Paper-making hornets. (A18)\nThe Giant Spiders (%): The South American tarantula, Texas tarantula, African bird spider, and California trapdoor spider. (18)\nInsect Farmers and Laborers (1) Strange ways of the ant. (A18)\nInsect Mimicry and Song, wing movements of crickets and katydids.\nLife History of the Yellow Fever Mosquito, photomicrographic views of mosquito eggs floating in water \u2014 hatching, feeding, swimming, breathing of the larva.\nLife of a Spider, life history, web-spinning and capture of insects.\nNature's Perfect Theatre, Story of the silkworm.\nOur Ant Gang, ants building tunnels and removing large obstacles. Development from egg through the larvae and nymph stages.\nOur Common Enemy, picture study of the house-fly\u2014 from egg to maturity.\nPoisoned Daggers, the mosquito.\nTermites, partial life history.\nVisiting the Bees, showing habits of the honey bee.\nMicroscopic Life\nBacteria, a culture medium is made, and bacteria from vinegar,\nMicroscopic Animal Life (1) Photomicrographic views show four single-celled animals \u2014 amoeba, Paramecium, stentor, vorticella. (48, 77)\nMicroscopic Pond Life (1) A glimpse of the varied life in a wayside puddle. (78)\nA World Unseen (1) Organisms under the microscope. (A18)\n\nGroup 92 Birds\nLarge Birds (1) Picture of penguins on a desolate rock of the southern tip of South Africa. (78)\nBirds of Prey (4) Screech owl, prairie owl, hawk, and American eagle. (18)\nBirds of Vanity (4) Indian peacock and Asiatic fowl. (18)\nKings of the Air (1) Nest of the eagle. (A18)\nMonkey-Faced Owls (%) Family pictured through successive stages of development and their life habits shown. (18)\nPelicans of Mexico Hordes of pelicans on the west coast of Mexico. (18)\nSea Gulls Shows daily maneuvers of a huge flock of sea-gulls. (HO)\nThe Stork Rearing of a stork family. (A18)\nSmall Birds Title tells it. (48)\nThe Humming Bird Life habits, following a bird family through hatching period to the time when youngsters leave nest. (18)\nIn Birdland Native song and other small birds. (77)\nBirds of the Beach Flying inhabitants of the shore. (A18)\nBirds on the Wing Slew-motion study of flight \u2014 pigeons, flying of sea gulls, forays of owl, condor flight, etc. (A18)\nTree-Top Nurseries Home life of birds; baby robins in nest; village of herons' nests and young family at meal time. (110)\nTropical Birds Bird-Life in Amazon Valley. (A18)\nThe Wingless Birds (4) Screen study by Raymond Ditmars: \"16-Millimeter Section\" - Fish and Sea Life\nGroup 95: Fish and Sea Life\nThe Corals (4) Marine life study: \"Defenses of the Sea\"\nHow the sea hare protects itself by gassing its enemies (18)\nDevil-Fish, Umbrella Octopus and Sea Turtle (18)\nThe Fight for Life: Struggle for survival under the sea (1)\nGrunion, the Mystery Fish (4) Microscopic camera study of fish eggs through a hatching process (18, 69)\nJewels of the Sea: Study of coelenterates\nA Joy Rider of the Ocean: Life and habits of the remora or shark-sucker (1)\nLiving Stars: Life story, construction and habits of star fish (18)\nPacific Seals: Family life in a \"deep-sea harem\" - showing New Year's Island, a favorite breeding place for Pacific seals (110)\nPartnerships under the Sea: How under-sea creatures seek protection\nThe Sea Urchin: Life story including microscopic views.\nSecrets of the Sea: Jellyfish and sea-slugs.\nThe Silver Swimmer: A spider and its under-water nest.\nThe Snail: Its life cycle and habits.\nSome Seashore Animals: Views and partial life cycle of sea anemones, sea urchins, star fish, crabs.\nSubmarine Camouflage: Undersea study of the crab.\nSubmarine Gardens: Undersea pictures of sponges, coral and other formations.\nAmazing Animal Habits: Strange powers of instinct.\nChumming with the Animals: Showing a number of animals with special reference to their appetites and methods of feeding.\nDangerous Snakes of the United States: Various types.\nHarmless Serpents: New and Old World species.\nLuther Burbank: Scenes of cactus development, lily pollination, development of long staple cotton, improved varieties of wheat and oats.\n\nThe Motherly Oak: The tree and the animals it shelters.\n\nNature's Wizardry: Man's imitations of nature's inventions.\n\nRuffed Grouse: Courtship of ruffed grouse, nest of a hen, growth and development of chicks.\n\nThe Spirit of Play: How the play instinct is born in every living creature.\n\nTraps for Insects: Insect-eating plants and animals.\n\nWild Creatures that Mimic: Natural history study of the Sumatran stick insect, the leaf-winged locust and the Malayan walking-leaf insect.\n\nWho's Who in the Zoo: Strange South American animals.\n\nPHYSICS\nGROUP 97\n\nPhysics: Einstein's Theory of Relativity: A popular explanation of the element-ary concepts.\nary theory of Einstein showing the relativity of motion, direction, size, speed, and time and measurements (80)\n\nMagnetism and Electro-magnets photographed in studios of Thomas Edison Inc. (78)\n\nThe Educational Screen keeps 1000 and One up to date by reviews of new films as they appear. For intelligent, impartial, dependable reviews of current films \u2014 theatrical and non-theatrical \u2014 see The Educational Screen every month. It is written for YOU.\n\nSeventh Edition 16-MILLIMETER SECTION 115\nPHYSIOLOGY, HEALTH AND HYGIENE\n\nGROUP 98 Embryology\nLiving Cell (1) The division and growth of single-celled organisms: yeast, amoeba, Paramecium; many celled organisms; hydra and flatworm; tissue cells; cell division. (48)\n\nGROUP 99 Anatomy and Structural Physiology\nThe Blood (1) Illustrates the separation of plasma from blood cells;\nProtein and salts from plasma - staining cells - counting red blood corpuscles; how white blood cells reach body tissue.\nBreathing - Importance of good lungs and action of diaphragm, breathing, lung structure and function.\nBreath of Life - Blood corpuscles show how oxygen is carried to all cells of the body.\nCirculation - Human circulatory system traced.\nCirculatory Control - Pressure of blood in arteries - methods of measuring pressure - structure and work of veins.\nDigestion - Covers complete digestive tract - action of saliva upon food, swallowing, stomach structure, and action of both intestines.\nThe Heart and How It Works - From the series \"The Human Body.\"\nHow We Hear - Exposition of way in which sound waves enter human ear and are translated into brain impressions.\nHow An Explanation of the Functions of Various Parts of The Human Voice: relations of tongue, larynx, vocal chords, etc., and their respective parts in word-forming. (80)\nPenetrating the Stream of Life: Mysteries of blood revealed through the microscope. (110)\nThe Skin: contrasts of skins of various animals; structure and method of growth of human skin; explains sensation of touch; proper care. (1)\nHow Teeth Grow: embryological development of a tooth; order of formation and eruption of temporary and permanent teeth. (48)\nMouth Health: synopsis of correct dental care at home and at the dental office. (118)\nGROUP 100: Eyes, Feet, Teeth\nHow Teeth Grow: Embryological development, order of formation and eruption of temporary and permanent teeth. (48)\nMouth Health: Correct dental care at home and at the dental office. (118)\nGROUP 104: Exercise\nHow Do You Get Your Exercise?: drills, training and contests used by various groups in keeping fit. (80)\nPosture: part played by muscles in determining good and bad posture. (1)\nGroup 105: Sewage Disposal\"\n- Purification by Imhoff Tank and sprinkling filter\n- Purification by sand filtration\n- Disposal into ocean.\n\nGroup 106: Disease and Its Treatment\"\n- Diphtheria\n  - Preparation and use of antitoxin\n  - Methods of control and prevention.\n- Intestinal Peristalsis\n  - Various types in cat and rabbit.\n- Sleeping Death (African sleeping sickness).\n- Tuberculosis and How It May Be Avoided\n  - Tubercle bacilli growing in laboratory and lung tissue of human body.\n  - Daily routine at preventorium.\n\nGroup 109: Fire Prevention.\nFire Prevention (1) Construction of an approved fire-resisting building \u2014 correct insulation; proper way to safeguard inflammable materials. (48)\nFire Protection (1) Old and modern equipment and methods of fighting fires; school lesson in fire safety. (48)\n16-millimeter Section\nAthletics and Sports\nGroup 112 Baseball, Football, Golf\nBaseball Form (%) Walter Johnson and Dazzy Vance pitching; Ty Cobb and Babe Ruth at bat \u2014 action and slow motion. (110)\nBaseball \u2014 How Babe Ruth Knocks a Home Run (1) This star in action. (110)\nWhat Price Touchdown (4) Grantland Rice's picture version of finer points of football. Both slow and normal motion. (110)\nGolf Lessons (Series of 13) From Harry Cooper Golf Lessons; demonstrates correct use of all the clubs. (18)\nGolf Lessons (Series of 4) From Joe Novak 1-2-3 Golf Lessons. (18)\nGolf Form (%) Golfing theory and demonstration. (110)\n1928 National Open Tournament at Olympia Fields. The Happy Duffer - A day's sport with an average golfer. Bobby Jones Demonstrates correct form in use of driver and mid-iron, in both normal and slow motion.\n\nMaking of a Chorus Girl - Tom Nip, noted ballet master, shows how he trains young girls and turns them out for the stage. Phantom Ballet - Eleanore Flaig shown in multiple images of herself performing the same figure of the dance. The Sundown Dancer - Showing some charming dances of various origins.\n\nGROUP 113\nTennis\nBetter Tennis - Series of 4, 1 reel each. Featuring Helen Wills in a variety of strokes and serves.\nTennis - Tilden, Molla Mallory and Helen Wills, in fast and slow motion.\nOpen Air: Outdoor sports - baseball, shooting, etc. (80)\nUp and Up: Ascent of the \"Needle\" in the Cumberland Mountains (110)\nUp to Date Alpinism: Cable cars ascend the Rax Alp near Vienna. (4)\nThe World Famous Rodeo: Wild West stunts at Pendleton, Ore. (18)\n\nGroup 116: Water Sports\nCrystal Champions: Stunt swimming under water, exhibitions of well-known swimmers. (110)\nGangway: Yacht-racing, canoe-racing, sailing. (80)\nGetting Gay with Neptune: Life in a girl's camp in Maine: swimming, diving, canoeing and other water sports. (80)\nHow Will You Have Your Bath? Sport picture of swimming and diving in various environments. (80)\nSpeedboat Thrills: Self-explanatory. (125)\nSurfing \u2014 The Famous Sport of Waikiki: Riding the surf board. (23)\nSwimmers and Swimming: Many strokes clearly illustrated. (1)\nSwimming Form Gertrude Ederle demonstrates excellence in this sport in and out of water. (110)\nWinter Sports Skiing, tobogganing, skating, ice-boating. (110)\nMidwinter Sports in Quebec Snow shoeing and tobogganing at famous winter resort. (23)\nWinter Sports in Switzerland Tobogganing, skiing, etc. (125)\nBig Game Hunting in Africa Thrilling events of Prince William of Sweden's expedition. (110)\nCatching a Fox A Bill and Bob outdoors adventure. (110)\nHunting Big Game in Africa Thrilling adventures. (80)\nA Jungle Round-Up Animals of the Amazon Valley. (A18)\nSacred Baboons Capturing animals in Abyssinia. (A18)\nAthletics and Sports\nAnimal Hunting (Continued)\nTrapping the Bobcat, Bill and Bob Series. (110)\nTrapping the Mountain Lion, Bill and Bob Series. (110)\nTrapping the Skunk, Bill and Bob Series. (110)\nWhen the Lions Threaten, Expedition to the home of the lion. (A18)\n\nDuck Shooting on Wapanoca Lake\nTitle tells it. (80)\n\nHunting Prairie Chickens in Saskatchewan\nHunting the elusive grouse in Northwest. (18)\n\nHunting the Wary Black Mallard on Long Island\nA duck hunt. (18)\n\nQuail Hunting\nPursuit of \"Bob White\" with dog and gun. (80)\n\nThe Wild Turkey\nHunting picture taken in Maryland. (80)\n\nGroup 120 Fishing\nAbalone Pearl Fishing\nDiving for abalones in the Pacific off south-western boundary of U.S. (80)\n\nBonefish of the Bahamas\nCatching of these speedy deep sea monsters. (18)\nCatching Big Fish in Pacific Waters, Thrilling moments spent with Major Hammond. (1) An interesting fishing film. (18) In the Land of Big Muskies, An exciting fishing film. (1) Rod and Reel Champions, Fly-casting competition in California. (80) Salmon Fishing in Newfoundland, A sporting picture of the thrill of rod and line. (18) Taking Game Fish in the Florida Gulf Stream. (1) Self-explanatory. (1) Tarpon Fishing, A battle between sportsman and game fish. (110) Trapping Big Tuna Fish, A film for sportsmen and naturalists. (18)\n\nAlien Antics, Some strange games among Italians, Japanese, and American Indians. (110)\n\nBall and Bat, Showing all different games in which the ball is the factor. (110)\n\nBoxing Form, Gene Tunney demonstrates some of the blows used in boxing. (110)\n\nDiving, High Jumping and Lariat Throwing, Self-explanatory. (23)\nSpeed: Grantland Rice sport film covering scenes of express trains, airplanes, auto and motor races, horse races. (18)\nSport Almanac: Action shots of year-round sport activities. (110)\nStamina: College rowing crews, football games, walking races, and steeplechase. (18)\nSupple Sex: Various sports and exercises employed by the \"gentler sex\" in keeping their youthful form. (110)\nSweepstakes: Four separate horse races with the same animated models but with a different winner, forming an amusing and fascinating game. In two sections. (47)\nJapanese Sports: Jiu Jitsu, sword dancing, and fencing. (18)\nThe Thrill of the Thoroughbreds: Horse-racing at Saratoga, N.Y.\nThrills: Collection of daredevil stunts in sky, land, and water. (110)\nThe Cradle of Champions: Showing how our school-boys are laying the foundation for future athletic supremacy. (80)\nWhat Form Means to an Athlete: Shows the intricate play of muscles in an athlete's body.\n\nThe Alpine Shepherd: Scenic Group 123. The Alpine Shepherd and his flock amid Alpine scenery.\nFrom the Windows of My House: Robert Bruce's scenic of mountains, lakes, rivers, brooks and sea.\nFind distributors by reference-numbers (pages 129-ff.)\n118 16-Millimeter Section \"1000 and One\"\nScenic Group 123 (Continued). Scenic. Giant Redwoods and Mirror Lake.\nSparking: Waters. Charm of quiet waters.\nA Typical Tropical Sky: Scenic study of tropics.\n\nTravel and Transportation\n\nGroup 128. Air.\nThe Bremen Flight: The \"Bremen\" crossing the Atlantic Ocean from east to west. (110)\nCruise of Graf Zeppelin: Historic flight of the Leviathan of the air; trial flights at Friedrichshafen, Germany; arrival in New York. (110)\nFrom London to Paris by Air: Trip in an aeroplane across the English Channel. (1) Lindbergh - The Epic American Transatlantic Flight. (ty) Lindbergh's take-off for Paris and unsuccessful attempts of other flyers that preceded The Lindberghs. (34) Shews Lindy and Anne taking up the latest wrinkle in aviation - gliders. (110) National Air Races. (3/4) Aeronautical display at Cleveland. (125) GROUP 130 Railroads The Fair of the Iron Horse. (14) A portrayal of one hundred years development in transportation. (18) One Hundred Years of Railroad Development. (*\u00a3) Evolution of present-day locomotive. (47) GROUP 131 Water Deck Sports. (23) Variety of sports on shipboard. (48) Ocean Liners. (1) Building and launching, balancing cargo, stocking with supplies for passengers and crew, inspecting, life aboard. (48)\nSafeguards to navigation \u2013 lighthouses, buoys, lightships, etc. (48)\nScenes in a Busy Harbor \u2013 Various types of boats and unloading machinery. (125)\nWar \u2013 Naval and Military\nAmerica Goes Over \u2013 Famous official United States Government pictures of the World War showing American Expeditionary Forces. (47, 80)\nCaptains of Tomorrow \u2013 Life and activities of West Point cadets. (78)\nCoast Defense Guns \u2013 Scenes of big guns belching forth. (125)\nA Day at West Point \u2013 Buildings, drill in great riding hall, parade ground, dress parade, etc. (23)\nFlashes of Action \u2013 Best scenes from official pictures made of the American, French, British and Italian forces in action. (47)\nIn the Air \u2013 American Legion's version of the aerial warfare of the Great War. (18)\nMaking Man Handlers (1) Instructive and entertaining visit to The Meuse-Argonne Offensive (47)\nOn the Land (V2) The World War as it was fought on land. (18)\nOn the Sea (%) Naval scenes from the World War. (18)\nOur Navy in Action (*4) Unusual shots from airplanes of modern ships in broadside firing and destroyers laying smoke screens. (69)\nOur Navy in the World War (%), Official pictures of our Navy in its multifarious duties on the high seas. (47)\nSailors of the Skies (1) Modern aviation in the Navy. (A153)\nThe S-4 Submarine Disaster (%), Rescue work by the Navy. (18)\nWar Machines (Vo) War in all its grim reality \u2014 airplanes, war tanks, siege guns, etc. (110)\nThe World War (5) The complete American Legion version of The World War land, sea and in the air. (18)\n[16 mm films shown throughout book. Seventh Edition.\n\nAdvertisement.\nSeven years experience. World-wide organization. Adequate supply duplicate copies. 500 subjects \u2014 nearly 1000 reels. Featuring the World's Most Famous Stars in Their Greatest Productions. Travel, Sports, Natural History, Scientific Subjects, Comedies, Animated Cartoons, Dramas. 192 page catalog mailed on request. Branch libraries and distributors in sixty leading cities of the United States and Canada and in thirty foreign cities all around the world. Kodascope Libraries, Inc. 33 West 42nd Street New York, N. Y. Subsidiary of Eastman Kodak Co. Rochester, N. Y.\n\n16-millimeter Section.\nGROUP 134 ENTERTAINMENT.\nAlice's Balloon Race (1) Her adventures with an animated cat.\nBilly Believes (2) Little Billy's dream after eating too much birthday cake.]\nBobby Bumps (1 each) - A series of animated cartoon films for children.\nChip, the Wooden Man (1 each) - A series of fairy tales (47)\nChristmas Among the Animals (1) - How zoo people celebrate (18)\nCracked Ice (1) - Animated dolls enjoying winter sports (18)\nDoings in Doodlebugville (1) - A series of fairy tales (47)\nAn Elephant on His Hands (2) - Slapstick comedy employing leopards and other wild animals (80)\nFive Orphans of the Storm - How Blackie's unselfish action brought Christmas cheer to five lonely orphan puppies (110)\nGoldilocks and the Three Bears (%) - An animated cartoon of this old favorite enjoyed by even the smallest children (47)\nJack the Giant Killer (%)- An old familiar story brought to life in pen and ink\nThe Jungle Circus (D) - Acrobatic tricks by animals (18)\nThe Jungle Samaritan (1) - Story of a hermit and jungle life (18)\nThree ducklings and a kitten grow up into inseparable companions: The Kitten and the Ducks\nA fairy tale of a dashing knight: The Little Knight\nAn animated cartoon comedy: Mother Goose Land\nComedy of domestic life in the jungle: Old Iron Hides\nPictorial interpretation: Parade of the Wooden Soldiers\nChildren and animals: Pets by Proxy\nThe old story retold: The Pied Piper of Hamlin\nAge-old tale: Red Riding Hood\nFrankie having read the story falls asleep and re-enacts it in a dream: Robin Hood Junior\nA Christmas story for children: Santa Claus\nSanta and his Brownie helpers: Santa Claus' Toy Shop\nSeries of subjects on the adventures of a dog, cat and a squirrel: Three Pals\nSnap, the Gingerbread Man\nThumbelina - The old story of the tiny little girl, brought to life in pen and ink.\nThurman the Great - Performance by two animated dolls.\nToy Town Follies, The Circus (The Schoenhut's circus figures come to life) - 'Twas the Night before Christmas - Picturization of the famous poem.\nAll Aboard for the Moon - Imaginative animated drawing of a trip in a giant rocket to the moon.\nAre Parents People? - Story of a young girl's efforts to effect a reconciliation between her parents. Featuring Betty Bronson.\nAway in the Lead - Two adventurous Americans become involved in a South American mining and revolution plot.\nBeau Brummel - Featuring John Barrymore, in the historical romance.\nBehind the Front - Wallace Beery and Raymond Hatton comedy.\nBrass - From the novel by Charles Norris.\n[The Broken Silence (6) - Drama of life in the Canadian Rockies.\nThe Busher (5) - A bush league ball player who makes a big league team; featuring Charles Ray, Colleen Moore and John Gilbert.\nCaptain January (5) - Baby Peggy in the story of the little shipwrecked girl rescued and cared for by the lighthouse-keeper.\n\" The Charlatan (6) - A tense mystery of a fake crystal gazer.\nConductor 1492 (6) - Irish humor running through the story.\nThe Country Doctor (1) - Rudolph Schildkraut in a good characterization of a country physician.\nThe Country Kid (6) - Wesley Barry in a story of country life.\nThe Covered Wagon (6) - Story of the historic overland journey of American pioneers in the days of '49.]\nSeventh Edition 16-MILLIMETER SECTION\nGROUP 135 (Continued) ENTERTAINMENT General\nFive members of a bachelor's club adopt orphans with amusing results, featuring Mae Marsh among others (80 words).\nThe Desert Secret (5) A story of gold prospecting and western adventure. The Eagle of the Sea (5) Sea story of adventure and fights between man-of-war and pirate ships. Ricardo Cortez and Florence Vidor star (80 words).\nEyes Right (5) A comedy-drama with a military college setting, featuring Francis X. Bushman Jr. (69 words).\nThe Fall of the House of Usher (1) Dramatic treatment of Poe's famous tale. Fighting Courage (5) Ken Maynard in a rollicking dramatic comedy of the west (70 words).\nThe Fighting Coward (5) Story of life on the Mississippi in days before the war. Featuring Ernest Torrence, Cullen Landis, Mary Astor (80 words).\nFighting Eagle (1) Romantic, adventuresome tale of the days of the First Napoleon. Red La Rocque stars (110 words).\nThe Foolish Age: A wealthy girl sets out to raise down-trodden humanity to a higher sphere. (80) Four from Nowhere: Dealing with present-day problems and the privations and sufferings of wagon-trail pilgrims. (69) Frontier Trail: Thrilling story of a U.S. Army Scout in the days of the Indian Wars. (110) Gate Crasher: Glenn Tryon and Patsy Ruth Miller in a fast, rollicking comedy. (70) The Golden Clown: Showing the rise and decline of a celebrated musical clown; colorful drama of circus life. (110) The Grand Duchess and the Waiter: Florence Vidor and Adolphe Menjou in a light romantic story. (5) Guardians of the Wild: Starring Rex, king of wild horses. (5) Hero of the Circus: A drama of the circus. (5) His Last Race: A horse story. (80)\nThe King on Main Street: Adolphe Menjou as the bored king who escapes from his ministers for a delightful adventure.\nThe Kismet: A lavish and colorful oriental tale portraying the rise and fall of Hajj, the beggar. Starring Otis Skinner.\nA Knight of the Trail: W.S. Hart stars in a story of the great open spaces, fights, and a thrilling auto race.\nThe Lucky Devil: Richard Dix in a story of the great open spaces, fights, and a thrilling auto race.\nThe Man on the Box: A comedy-drama of plot and counterplot, starring Syd Chaplin.\nThe Midnight Message: All-star cast including Mary Carr in an exciting drama.\nMy Boy: Jackie Coogan featured.\nThe New School Teacher: Featuring \"Chic\" Sales; adapted from stories by Irvin S. Cobb.\nNight Bird: Reginald Denny in a fast, romantic comedy.\nFive Arabian Nights: A story of true Oriental flavor full of action, mystery and suspense, featuring Pola Negri and Ernst Lubitsch (80)\nW.S. Hart's Outlawed: Displays some wild riding (72)\nPhantom Flyer: Al Wilson in an airplane thriller (70)\nPlay Safe: Starring Monty Banks (110)\nThe Pony Express: Historical incidents in American history in the development of the west (80)\nRunaway Special: A little drama written around the railroad (125)\nSatan Town: From the story by Richard Harding Davis \u2014 revolution and romance in a little island republic of the Caribbean (110)\nThe Son of Tarzan: Jack Greystoke lives with the animals in the African jungle; a story of imagination and adventure (80)\nSoul of the Beast: A novel drama of the Canadian Woods (18)\nThe Spanish Dancer: Pola Negri as a Spanish gypsy dancing girl (18)\nSquare Deal (5) W.S. Hart in a western drama.\nTickle Bill (%) An amusing microscopic of a trained fly doing \"stunts.\"\nTiger Rose (5) Lenore Ulric in a screen dramatization of her great stage success. (80)\n16-Millimeter Section \"1000 and One\"\nGroup 135 Entertainment General\nThe Valley of Hate (5) A thrilling drama of the South Carolina Mountains. (69)\nThe Wanderer Story of the prodigal son; featuring William Collier Jr., Ernest Torrence, Greta Nissen and Wallace Beery. (80)\nWe're in the Navy Now (5) Wallace Beery and Raymond Hatton com-\nThe Were Tiger (2) Story of stolen gold and its recovery, with a love story woven in. (70, 72)\nWhite Mice (%) From the story by Richard Harding Davis. (110)\nWho's Your Friend? (5) Farce comedy featuring Francis X. Bushman.\nWon in the Clouds (5) Al Wilson in a spectacular drama in the heart\nAmong the Navajos: Recreational, educational, industrial, medical and evangelistic work of Ganado Mission.\nThe Feast of Ishtar: Excerpt from \"The Wanderer\" \u2014 wild nights in ancient Babylon just preceding the destruction of the city.\nA Friendly Hand: Story of the transforming power of a Christian Neighborhood House.\nThe Little Church Around the Corner: A classic showing the triumph of supreme Christian faith. Features Claire Windsor, Kenneth Harlan, Pauline Starke.\nMissions in China: Shanghai, Nanking and Hwaiynan \u2014 Results of the vision of missionaries backed by the church.\nSeen in Siam: Siamese ceremonies; activities of native Christian workers.\nThe Words of God in an African Forest: Glimpses into daily life of people showing their needs and the help missionaries are giving.\nComedies:\nAlice's Mystery (1) Novel film with a combination of animated cartoon and a real, lovable little girl (70)\nAlice's Orphan (1) Another of the Alice films (70)\nAll Night Long (1) A Harry Langdon comedy of wartime (110)\nThe Bargain Hunt (1) A Smith Family comedy (110)\nBarnyard Flappers (%, Animal actors provide the fun (HO)\nBehind the Scenes (1) An early Charlie Chaplin film (18)\nBig Boy Comedies (2) A series of juvenile comedies (18)\nBum Business (1) Two would-be business men who run a cigar store\nCandy Shop (%) A lively dog and a mischief-loving baby girl (HO)\nCameo Comedies (1) A series of one-reel comedies (18)\nCharles Chaplin Comedies (2) Some of his early ones: The Adventurer, The Bank, Behind the Screen, Easy Street, The Fireman, The Floorwalker, The Immigrant, A Night at the Show, The Rink, The Vagabond, Shang-\n\n(Note: The text \"%\" likely indicates missing or incomplete information, and \"HO\" may indicate home movies or other non-theatrical releases. These abbreviations were left in the text as they are likely original to the source material.)\nHaided, The Champion (80)\nChristie Comedies (2) A series of two-reel comedies (18)\nEarly Bird Trying to get a parrot through a subway rush (110)\nThe Fall Guy (2) Featuring Larry Semon (80)\nThe Fast Male (1) Joe Rock in a speedy subject (80)\nFlying Age Aesop's Fables (110)\nFelix the Cat Cartoons (1) Series of Pat Sullivan's animated car-toons\nF.O.B. Africa (2) Monty Banks in some funny situations which develop between a missionary and some African cannibals (80)\nThe Golf Bug (2) Starring Monty Banks (80)\nGooseland Alice, the inn-keeper's daughter, wins a young American (y2)\nHer Boy Friend (1) Slapstick comedy (72)\nHis Marriage Wow (1) Harry Langdon comedy (110)\nHot or Cold (2) Al St. John in a college rivalry comedy (18)\nIntroduce Me Douglas MacLean in one of his early comedies (110)\nThe Iron Mule (1) - Al St. John in a \"take off\" on the happenings of the first railroad. (47)\n\nThe Iron Nag (%) - In Old Kentucky, you can't keep a good horse\n\nComedies (Continued)\n\nIt's a Bear - I, Jce and his wife inherit a fortune if they will take care of a grizzly bear. (SO.)\n\nThe Jolly Jilter - Featuring Ben Turpin. (110.)\n\nKrazy Kat - The battles between Krazy Kat and Ignatz.\n\nLarry Semon Comedies - A series of two-reel comedies: North of Nowhere, The Prince of Whales. (13, 80)\n\nLloyd Hamilton Comedies - Series: two comedies each. (18)\n\nLupino Lane Comedies - Series: two comedies each. (18)\n\nMack Sennett Comedies - Series: one. (110)\n\nMadam Mystery - Comedy of mystery with a surprise ending. (110)\n\nThe Misfit - Clyde Cook as a henpecked husband who joins the marines. (47)\nMr. and Mrs. A (44), Dorothy Devore star in \"Navy Blues\" (2).\n\"Open House\" (i2i) is a Tuxedo comedy with Johnny Arthur (18).\n\"Our Gang Comedies\" (1) feature a juvenile cast (110 >).\n\"Out-of-the-Inkwell\" Cartoons (1) present animated series (80, 92).\n\"Picking Peaches\" (1) stars Harry Langdon (110 \u00bb).\n\"The Pile Driver\" (1) is a comedy with Billy F'raney (\"2\").\n\"Pink Elephants\" (2) showcases AJ St. John in a circus farce (18).\n\"Ringling's Rivals\" (2) introduce a new gang of youngsters, the \"Hey Fellas\" (70).\n\"Roars and Laughs\" (2J) offer Nutt family adventures (8().\n\"The Royal Flush\" (1 1 1) is an all-dialogue comedy centered on a poker game (A18).\nRube Goldberg and Fontaine Fox (^4) bring their funny people to life in (110).\n\"Salt Air\" I (2) is with Bobby Dunn (i 72 I).\nA Harry Langdon comedy (110)\nSeven Ages of Fishing (1) Grantland Rice Sport film\nShip Shape 111 Rollicking comedy on shipboard\nSmith's Holiday (%) A day at the beach (110)\nSmith's Picnic 114 A Mack Sennett comedy (110)\nA Wild Goose Chase > 2 Monty Banks pursuing a goose which has swallowed the engagement ring (80)\nYukon Jake ill Featuring Ben Turpin as a sheriff on the Yukon (110)\nNEWS REELS. WEEKLIES AND NOVELTY SUBJECTS\nAction Antics 111 Series of two films of trick shots (18)\nBreath Takers (*4) Action shots (110)\nCuriosities '1' A series of unusual scenes and freaks of nature (IS i)\nThe Dizzv Four 111 Story of hoboes' gathering with comedic dialogue and songs (A18)\nCreator of Voarue (^4) A day with Paul Poiret (110)\nThe Cuckoo Nuts I 111 Atterbury and Gillem, two college boys, furnish\nThe Hadpv Ranch Boys: Jimmie Adams and his three singing cowboys. (A18)\n\nHiking through Holland with Will Rogers (110) - Will Rogers conducts a tour through Holland in this travelogue.\n\nKaleidoscope Capers: Gorgeous interweaving designs of the kaleidoscope. (^4)\nJ. Stuart Blackton's Hodge Podge (1) - A series of novelty films. (18)\n\nNews Films (18) - Series.\n\nPathegrams Review: A series of five. (110)\n\nReeling Down the Rhine 1 - I Will Rogers shows us the water, castles, and grapevines of the Rhine in an interesting way. (110)\n\nStudios and Stars (1) - A series of films showing stars from various studios. (18)\n\nTen Million Years Ago (110) - A visit into the prehistoric past.\n\nThat's Funny (A18) - Gene Morgan and June Parker provide an entertaining program of dialogue and song.\nVaudeville  Series  (1)  A  series  of  trained  animals,  acrobats,  etc.  (18) \nWith   Will  Rogers  in  Paris    I  %  I    A  '\"rubberneck\"  tour  through  Paris \nwith  Will  Rogers  at  the  megaphone.  (110) \nWith  Will  Rogers  in  Dublin  1 %  i  Places  of  interest  pointed  out  and  re- \nmarked upon.  (110) \nFILM  ESTIMATES \nO \nCO \nOi \ntH \nfa \nO \nGO \nH \ni\u2014 i \nEh \nH \no \nbe  ax  5 \ncn  \u00a9g  p \nO \nO \nEh \nU \nH \nCO \nfi  coS  fi \nco \nX  fi \n-  co  fli  H  cj \noi  cC \n0)  Jh  to  Sjj \nIii  .  o \nOS\u00a9 \ns  e \nP  c \no  e \n^  bJ)  be  be \no  p.S  i \ns:^\u00abciSfHPf-l0>-iWc+JociSt>s't^tt!00 \nPS \nco  Eh  S \nfi  OX  m-PTJ \nSo  S3 \n;>>a>(D'p,po>10(u'ppa;<D \n^  Sh  u.+j  ooujho+joc-pw \n3<y\u00abPooXo\u00abfiofifi\u00ab \nII \n'd'P \nCO  O  O \na3  fi \no \n\u00ab>PrPvi^2r>1<i>s3p'p'gfH  a  03  X? \nxS5\u00ab83xa>.gBS$*fSS\u00abs3ooses \nSI \nfi  X \ngg^Oftrt0^^^t;cypftftuJ\u00a7\u00abJ^ \n10fl5HU505t-OOOOI>OOu:OOOOt-lflU3?DHOOOOH \nIS \nfi \nCO  w \no \np'bio  \u00ab) \nfi \n6?  beSPQ \n_P  fi  co  c \nPXXX \nb*  fi \nit \nfi  o \n>i  fi  C \n\u2022SB* \nS  gx \n^-fi \nbe  <u \n.a  c  co \nels \nSeventh Edition FILM ESTIMATES\n\nFor Children:\nGood, Amusing, Beyond Them\nEntertaining, Mature\nGood, Entertaining, Good\nFunny, Perhaps, Beyond Them\nPassable, Very Exciting, Amusing\nBeyond Them, Harmless, Fair, Exciting, Good, Harmless, Passable, Amusing\nFunny, Good, Mature, Good, Too Exciting, Amusing, Somewhat Beyond, Exciting, Amusing, Harmless, Fair\n\nFor Youth:\nExcellent, Good, Entertaining\nExcellent, Very Good, Very Good, Entertaining, Entertaining, Excellent, Amusing, Thrilling, Very Good, Fair, Good Fun, Very Good, Interesting, Entertaining, Rather Amusing, Good, Entertaining, Entertaining, Fair, Amusing, Passable, Fairly Good, Good, Entertaining, Amusing, Notable, Amusing, Excellent, Thrilling, Good, Harmless, Fair\n[Return of Sherlock Holmes (Clive Brook) - Dec. 1929, Estimate 107\nRomance of the Rio Grande (Warner Baxter) - Dec. 1929, Estimate 58\nThe Second Floor Mystery (Grant Withers) - Jun. 1930, Estimate 161\nThe Shannons of Broadway (Mr. & Mrs. Gleason) - Jan. 1930, Estimate 121\nStudio Murder Mystery (Neil Hamilton) - Jun. 1929, Estimate 107]\n[Taming of the Shrew (Pickford-Fairbanks), 14th film, December 29, 1929\nFILM ESTIMATES\n\nPRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS\nREFERENCE LIST OF PRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS\nEach film listed in this volume carries one or more numbers at the right end of the last line of the review. These are distributor-references.\n\nAll inquiries regarding rental prices, transportation charges and booking arrangements should be addressed to the Distributor \u2013 not to The Educational Screen.\n\nPRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS\n\n\"1000 and One\"\n\nAlways read carefully the note under firm's entry before writing. Write always to the nearest exchange address given, unless otherwise directed in note.]\nProducers and distributors of educational and industrial films, and of portable talking-picture equipment: Acme Sound Products Corporation, 35 East Wacker Drive, Chicago; 1 film - \"Oxygen, the Wonder Worker\" - 35mm - non-flam - served all US; 14S Ajax Electrothermic Corporation, Trenton, N.J. - 1 film - 1-reel on high frequency furnaces - 16mm only - non-flam - for technical schools and societies; Ameranglo Corporation, 701 Seventh Ave., New York City - 16 films - educational subjects - 1 flam, 15 non-flam - rent - served all US.\n\n1 Air Reduction Sales Co., Motion Picture Division, Lincoln Building, New York City - 1 film - \"Oxygen, the Wonder Worker\" - 35mm - non-flam - serves all US\n1 Ajax Electrothermic Corporation, Trenton, N.J. - 1 film - 1-reel on high frequency furnaces - 16mm only - non-flam - for technical schools and societies\n3 Ameranglo Corporation, 701 Seventh Ave., New York City - 16 films - educational subjects - 1 flam, 15 non-flam - rent - served all US.\n1 film \u2014 safety subject \u2014 non-flam \u2014 rent only \u2014 serves all US \u2014 distributes also through 104 and 170.\n5 American Boy, The 550 Lafayette Boulevard, Detroit, Mich.\n1 film \u2014 can airplanes \u2014 flam \u2014 rent or sale \u2014 serves all US.\n6 American Farm Bureau Federation 58 East Washington St., Chicago\n16 films on agriculture, rural life, etc. \u2014 non-flam \u2014 \"free\" \u2014 35mm only \u2014 serves all US, but write always to headquarters.\n7 American Rolling Mill Co. Middletown, Ohio\nOne film \u2014 2 or 4 reel versions \u2014 industrial \u2014 flam or non-flam \u2014 35mm or 16mm \u2014 \"free\" \u2014 serves all US.\n8 American Social Hygiene Association 370 Seventh Ave., New York City\n7 films \u2014 social hygiene subjects \u2014 flam \u2014 rent or sell to approved organizations \u2014 serves all US.\n9 American Society for Control of Cancer 25 West 43rd St., New York City\nOne film \u2014 35mm or 16mm \u2014 sell or \"free\" \u2014 serves all US.\n10 American Steel and Wire Company, 208 South LaSalle St., Chicago\n6 industrial films - non-flam, served free and shipped prepaid, serve all U.S.\n11 Amkino Corporation, 723 Seventh Ave., New York City\n65 educational, scientific, geographical, biological, ethnographical films - distribute Russian productions, 35mm, flam, rent and sell, serve all U.S. through headquarters, write for list of exchanges. (See advertisement on page 35)\n12 Arc Film Co., 729 Seventh Ave., New York City\nSeveral religious films - 35mm and 16mm, rent or sell, serve all U.S.\n13 Armour and Company Union Stock Yards, Chicago\n1 film - \"Processing of Star Ham\", non-flam, served free, serve all U.S.\n14 Atlantic Motion Picture Service, 739 Boylston St., Boston, Mass.\nGeneral educational and industrial films - 35mm and 16mm, non-flam, rent, sell and served free, serve all U.S.\n15 Atias Educational Film Co. 1111 South Boulevard, Oak Park, 111\nProduce and distribute industrial and educational films. Write for full information. (See advertisement on page 6)\n\nSeventh Edition\n\n16 Audio-Cinema, Incorporated - successor to Carpenter-Goldman Laboratories 161 Harris Ave, Long Island City, NY\nConsulting motion picture engineers, producing educational films, especially those with scientific or technical background, involving synchronized sound, animation, or unusual photographic technique.\n\nMany films, distributed by other firms listed in this book - industry, health medical - 35mm, 16mm - rent or sell. Write for information.\n\n17 Bakelite Corporation 247 Park Ave, New York City\nOne film - \"The Story of Bakelite Resinoid\" - non-flammable, \"free\" - serves all U.S.\n\n18 Bell & Howell Company 1801 Larchmont Ave, Chicago.\nApproximately 300 films, a wide range of subjects for education and entertainment, all 16mm, non-flam, rent and sell, serve all U.S. Many \"sound\" films, particularly UF'A subjects.\n\n19 Bollman, Henry, 201 West 49th Street, New York City. 5000 films, educational and entertainment, flam and non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, sell only, handle prints, negatives, and \"rights,\" serve all U.S.\n\n20 Bray Productions, Inc., Educational Department, 729 Seventh Ave., New York City. Over 1000 films, wide range educational and entertainment subjects, flam and non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, few for rent, all for sale, many subjects distributed also through 156, serve all U.S.\n\n21 Brown, H.S., 806 South Wabash Ave., Chicago. Several hundred films, educational, religious, entertainment, flam and non-flam, rent or sell, serve all U.S. (See advertisement on page 90)\n22 Bureau of Commercial Economics 1108 16th St., Washington, DC\n23 Many films - various subjects - flam and non-flam - \"free under our stipulations\" - serve all US customers.\n23 Burton Holmes Lectures, Inc. 7510-14 North Ashland Ave., Chicago\n120 films - travel and industrial subjects - non-flam - sell only, few \"free\" - serve whole world.\n24 California Fruit Growers Exchange Box 530, Station C, Los Angeles, CA\nVarious films on citrus industry for classroom use - non-flam - \"free\" - serve all US customers - distribute only through 29 and 81 (write to nearer).\n25 Carlson Studios 3810 Broadway, Chicago\nProduce films only to order, specializing in animated drawing for technical, educational and industrial films - carry no films for rent, sale or loan.\n26 Carnation Company Oconomowoc, WI\n1 film - \"Milk\" - non-flam - \"free\" - serve all US customers - distribute through 81 and 170.\nCarter Cinema Producing Corporation, 551 Fifth Ave., New York City - 1,000 films (35mm and 16mm, various subjects, some \"sound,\" non-flam, rent and sell, serve all US.\nCarter's Ink Co., Cambridge 41, Boston, Mass. - 3 films (industrial and educational, non-flam, \"free,\" serve all US, 35mm and 16mm, distribute also through 36, 73, 77, 156, i, k.\nCastle Films, 630 Ninth Ave., New York City - Semi-educational and novelty films (flam and non-flam, rent or sell, serve all US, write headquarters for nearest source.\nCentral Distribution Department, Presbyterian Church i Board of Christian Education, Board of Foreign Missions, Board of National Missions, 156 Fifth Ave., New York City - 20 films (missionary and religious education, 35mm and 16mm, all non-flam, rent, serve all US, write headquarters for list of distributors.\n31 Central Film Co., 729 Seventh Ave., New York City, 100 films - general subjects, rent and sell, non-flam, serve all U.S.\n32 Cereal Soaps, Inc., 334 East 27th St., New York City, 1 film - on care of hair, 16mm or 35mm, non-flam, \"free\"\n33 Chicago Film Laboratory, Inc., 1322 Belmont Ave., Chicago, Produce and distribute educational and industrial films in wide variety, 60 films - mostly 35mm, 4 in 16mm, all non-flam, \"free\" except one, serve all U.S.\n34 Chicago Lying-In Hospital, 426 East 51st St., Chicago, 8 films - obstetrical subjects, 35mm or 16mm, all non-flam, rent or sell, one 6-reel film ready in \"sound\", write direct for information and terms.\n35 Church and School Film Exchange, 315 Polk Bldg., Des Moines, Iowa.\n200 films - general education, religious and entertainment, flam and non-flam, rent, sell and a few \"free\", serve all U.S.\n36 Church Film Company, 28 Piedmont St., Boston, Mass.\n500 films - entertainment, health, religious, industrial, educational, 35mm only, mostly non-flam, rent and sell, serve New England only, can supply feature films from practically all theatrical producers.\n37 Colgate-Palmolive-Peet Company, 919 North Michigan Ave., Chicago\n2 films - on mouth health, 35mm or 16mm, \"free\", flam or non-flam, serve all U.S.\n38 Colonial Dames of America, National Society, 942 Lake Shore Drive, Chicago\n1 film - \"Gates of Opportunity\", on Americanization, non-flam, rent or sell, 35mm or 16mm, serve all U.S.\n39 Columbia Pictures, 729 Seventh Ave., New York City\n60 features and 116 short subjects - mainly entertainment, 35mm.\nAtlanta: 131 Walton St., NW, Milwaukee. Boston: 10 Piedmont St., Minneapolis: 66 Glenwood Ave., Charlotte: 224 W. Second St., New Orleans: 1307 Tulane Ave., Chicago: 831 S. Wabash Ave., New York: 630 Ninth Ave., Cincinnati: 1634 Central Parkway, 702 West Grand St., Cleveland: 1514 Davenport St., Omaha: 1514 Davenport St., Film Exchange Building: Philadelphia: 1232 Vine St., Dallas: 304 S. Harwood St., Pittsburgh: Address unclear, Denver: 2071 Broadway, 1623 Blvd. of the Allies, Indianapolis: 448 N. Illinois St., San Francisco: 177 Golden Gate Ave., Kansas City: 113 West 17th St., Seattle: 2404 First Ave., Los Angeles: 3306 Olive St., St. Louis: 3306 Olive St.\n1908 S. Vermont Ave, Washington, 916 G St., NW, Louisville, 917 W. Jefferson St.\n40 Consolidated Film Industries, 1776 Broadway, New York City\nTwo films - health, home economics - flam or non-flam - 35mm or 16mm\nDistribute throughout all U.S., also through 72, 156, 170.\n41 Cooperative Film Exchange, 284 Turk St., San Francisco, Calif., and 1912 S. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, Calif.\nThousand short subjects, 150 features - general subjects - 35mm flam only\nRent only - also 26 sound and dialog subjects.\n42 H.O. Davis, 106 S. Hudson St., Oklahoma City, Okla.\n150 films - general subjects, including religious - flam - rent, sell, and a few \"free\"\nServes principally the Southwest - can supply films from many large theatrical producers.\n43 Davis and Geek, 217 Duffield St., Brooklyn, N.Y.\nThree films - surgical subjects - 35mm and 16mm - flam and non-flam.\nProducers and Distributors, Seventh Edition\n\n44 DeFrenes and Company, Wilkes-Barre, PA - 14 films: mainly industrial subjects, non-flam (flammable), 35mm and 16mm - \"free\" for all US distribution, some sound subjects ready.\n\n45 Raymond L. Ditmars, c/o N.Y. Zoological Society, Bronx, NY City - Producer of many notable films, including \"Living Natural History\" series. 35mm films for sale only, 16mm films for rent or sale through 18.\n\n46 E.I. du Pont de Nemours & Co., Wilmington, DE - 12 films: industrial subjects, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, \"free\" for all US distribution, also distributed through 96 and 156.\n\n47 Eastman Kodak Co., \"Kodak Cinegraphs,\" Rochester, NY - 134 films: educational, entertainment, novelties, all 16mm, non-flam - available from Eastman Kodak Dealers, always for sale, sometimes for rent - new Cinegraph catalog issued twice yearly.\n343 State St., Rochester, NY, Eastman Teaching Films: 100 classroom films made by teachers and correlated with study courses (16mm, sale only). 10 medical films made by leading physicians and surgeons for medical schools, hospitals, health associations etc. (non-flam, both 16mm and 35mm, rent and sell, serve all US).\n\n130 West 46th St., New York City, Edited Pictures System, Inc.: 2000 films, general for school and church use (flam and non-flam, mostly 35mm, some 16mm, rent and sell, serve all US).\n\n1913 A Commerce St., Dallas, TX, Educational Equipment Co.: 300 films, general subjects (flam and non-flam, rent, sell and some \"free\", serve chiefly Southwest, non-theatrical field exclusively.\nEducational Film Exchanges (Primarily theatrical)\n1501 Broadway, New York City\nMany films \u2014 entertainment and some educational \u2014 flame only \u2014 rent only \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 write always to nearest exchange:\nAlbany, 1050 Broadway, New Orleans, 220 S. Liberty St.\nBoston, 71 Broadway, Oklahoma City,\nCharlotte, 2nd and Poplar Sts., Omaha, 1508 Davenport St.\nChicago, 829 S. Wabash Av., Philadelphia, 1309 Vine St.\nCincinnati, Broadway Film Bid., Pittsburgh, 1014 Forbes St.\nDallas, 302% S. Harwood St., Salt Lake City,\nDes Moines, 1005 High St., San Francisco,\nDetroit, 710 Film Bldg., 191 Golden Gate Av.,\nIndianapolis, 120 W. Michigan St., Seattle, 2415 Second Av.\nLos Angeles, 1920 Vermont Av., Canada\nLouisville, 917 W. Jefferson St., Montreal, 12 Mayor St.\nMinneapolis, 413 Loeb Arcade, Toronto, 227 Victoria St.\nNew Haven, 134 Meadow St., Vancouver, 1218 Burrard St.\nWinnipeg, Film Exchange Bldg.\n52 Electrical Research Products, Inc., 250 West 57th St., New York City, Develop and produce educational films with sound. (See advertisement on page 11)\n53 Carlyle Ellis, 130 West 46th St., New York City, 51 films \u2014 health and social service subjects \u2014 flam or non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm \u2014 sell only \u2014 serve all U. S.\n54 Film Classic Exchange, 265 Franklin St., Buffalo, NY, 400 films\u2014 general educational subjects \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 35mm only \u2014 rent and sell \u2014 serve all U. S. \u2014 distribute also through 36, 114, 156, d, e, k, w \u2014 some \"sound\" subjects now ready. (See advertisement on page 89)\nProducers and Distributors \"1000 and One\"\n55 First National Pictures, Inc. (Primarily theatrical)\n525 W. 44th St., New York City\nMany films - entertainment mainly, flam only, rent only, serve all\nWrite to nearest exchange:\nNew Orleans, 1401 Tulane Ave.\nNew York (and N.J.)\n622 Ninth Ave.\nOklahoma City,\n523 S. Robinson St.\nOmaha, 1511 Chicago St.\nPhiladelphia, 1304 Vine St.\nPittsburgh, 1014 Forbes St.\nPortland (Ore.), 441 Glisan St.\nSt. Louis, 3312 Olive St.\nSalt Lake City. 212 E. 1st South\nSan Francisco, 140 Leavenworth\nSeattle, 2422 Second Ave.\nCANADA\nCalgary, 300 Traders Bldg.\nMontreal, 12 Mayor St.\nSt. John, 162 Mission St.\nToronto, 277 Victoria St.\nVancouver, 970 Davie St.\nWinnipeg, Film Exch. Bldg.\n56 Fitzpatrick Pictures, Inc., 729 Seventh Ave., New York City\n66 films - music subjects, flam, 35mm and 16mm, rent only, serve all US. Also \"sound\" films.\n57 Ford Motion Picture Laboratories, Detroit, Mich.\n150 films \u2014 general educational and travel subjects \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm \u2014 sell, some \"free\" \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 apply to nearest Ford branch or dealer.\n\n58 Fox Film Corporation (Primarily theatrical)\n850 Tenth Ave., New York City\nGreat range of films \u2014 instructional and entertainment \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 rent only \u2014 serve all U.S.\nWrite nearest exchange: Albany, 1056 Broadway\nAtlanta, 133 Walton St.\nBoston, 52 Church St.\nBuffalo, 505 Pearl St.\nCharlotte, 300 W. Third St.\nChicago, 831 S. Wabash Ave.\nCincinnati, 1208 Central Pkwy.\nCleveland, 708 Film Exch. Bldg.\nDallas, 308 S. Harwood St.\nDenver, 2108 Broadway\nDes Moines, 1001 High St.\nDetroit, 2300 Cass Ave.\nIndianapolis, 120 W. Michigan St.\nKansas City, 1712 Wyandotte St.\nLos Angeles, 1918 S. Vermont Ave.\nMemphis, 500 S. Second St.\nMilwaukee: 208 11th St.\nMinneapolis: 1101 1st Av. N.\nNew Haven: 134 Meadow St.\nAtlanta:\nBoston:\nBuffalo:\nCharlotte:\nChicago:\nCincinnati:\nCleveland: 162 Walton St.\n78 Broadway\n496 Pearl St.\n505 W. Fourth St.\n910 S. Wabash Av.\n2219 Payne Av.\n306 S. Jefferson St.\n2140 Champa St.\n66 Sibley St.\nNew Orleans: 218 S. Liberty St.\nOklahoma City:\n521 S. Robinson St.\nOmaha:\nPhiladelphia:\nPittsburgh:\nPortland:\nSt. Louis: 1509 Chicago St.\n1014 Forbes St.\n3314 Olive St.\nIndianapolis: 326 N. Illinois St.\nKansas City: 1901 Wyandotte St.\nLos Angeles: 2019 S. Vermont Ave.\nMemphis: 397 S. Second St.\nMilwaukee: 297 8th St.\nMinneapolis: 36 Glenwood Av.\nNew Haven: 114 Meadow St.\nCalgary:\nMontreal:\nSt. John:\nToronto:\nVancouver:\nWinnipeg:\nSalt Lake City: 216 E. 1st South\nSan Francisco: 308 Turk St.\nSeattle: 2316 Second Av.\n932 N. J. Av., N.W., Canada\n366 Mayor St.\n87 Union St.\n1210 Burrard St.\n365 Hargrave St.\n59 Frank R. Church Films, 6558 Pinehaven Drive, Oakland, Calif.\nProducer and distributor of industrial and educational films - 16 subjects - sell, rent, some \"free\" - flam or non-flam - 35mm and 16mm\n60 Fruit of the Loom Mills, 40 Worth St., New York City\n1 film - industrial subject - 35mm or 16mm - non-flam - transportation charges only - direct through headquarters or through d, h.\nSeventh Edition\n\nProducers and Distributors\n61 General Electric Co., Publicity Department\nOne River Road, Schenectady, N. Y.\nOver 50 films - science, industry and education - 35mm and 16mm - rent and sell - serve all U.S. - write nearest exchange, but for 35mm non-flam write headquarters - Boston carries all subjects in non-flam.\nThe following addresses are for companies ready to provide \"Sound\" films: Atlanta: 187 Spring St., N.W., Berkeley: Univ. of California, Boston: 140 Federal St., Department of Vis. Instr., Cleveland: 925 Euclid Av., Philadelphia: 1405 Locust St., Dallas: 1801 N. Lamar St., Portland, OR: 329 Alder St., Chicago: 230 S. Clark St., Salt Lake City: 200 S. Main St., Gibson Studios: Casselton, N.D., Goodyear Tire and Rubber Co.: Akron, Ohio, 14 films (rubber industry and related fields, flam, \"free\", %), Gowen, Robert F.: Ossining-on-Hudson, N.Y. (amateur motion picture service, 16mm only, rent and sell, serves own vicinity only), Hanna Engineering Works: 1765 Elston Ave., Chicago.\n1 film - \"This is the Age of Riveted Steel\" - non-flam - free - serves all U.S.\n66 Harcol Motion Picture Industries, 610 Baronne St., New Orleans, LA.\nSeveral hundred films - industrial, health, religious and entertainment subjects - rent, sell and a few free - serve all U.S. - write headquarter for nearest exchange.\n67 Hastings Motion Pictures, Inc., Hastings, MI.\n732 subjects - general - 1/3 flam, 2/3 non-flam - % on 35mm, % on 16mm. - rent, sell, and a few free - some \"sound\" films ready - write headquarters for nearest source.\n68 Hercules Powder Co., Wilmington, DE.\n10 films - industrial - non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - free - serve all U.S. - distribute also through 6, 170.\n69 Hollywood Film Enterprises, 6060 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood, CA. (Consolidated with Hollywood 109 N. Wabash Ave., Chicago, Movie Supply Co.) 6 E. 46th St., New York City.\n500 films - educational and entertainment, non-flam, mostly 16mm, rent, sell, a few \"free\" - serve all U.S. - write to nearest exchange.\n70 Home Film Libraries, Inc., 1845 Grand Central Term., New York City - 45 films - miscellaneous entertainment subjects, 16mm only, rent and sell.\n71 Holy Land Film Co., 110 W. 8th St., Cincinnati, O. - 20 films in series of \"Pilgrimage to Holy Land\", non-flam, rent or lease, serve all U.S., distributed only by Pathe - write nearest Pathe Exchange.\n72 Ideal Pictures Corporation, 26 E. 8th St., Chicago, and 321 Loeb Arcade Bldg., Minneapolis - 1250 films - entertainment, religious, educational, solely non-theatrical, flam and non-flam, mostly 35mm, rent and sell, a few \"free\" - serve all U.S. - (See advertisement 'on page 87')\nUniversity of Indiana, Bureau of Visual Instruction, Extension Division, Bloomington, Ind.\nMany films - all subjects - flame and non-flam - rent only - serve Indiana and neighboring states except Ohio.\nIndustrial Film Service 1126 Boylston St., Boston, Mass.\nMany subjects - industrial and travel - flame and non-flam - films furnished with projector, operator and complete equipment entirely free of charge - serve mainly eastern territory - write direct for specific terms and full information. Some \"sound\" films ready.\nProducers and Distributors \"1000 and One\"\nInternational Dental Health Foundation for Children, Inc.\n130 East End Ave., New York City\nSix films - dental health and nutrition - non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - rent and sell - serve all U.S. - write headquarters to learn nearest source. An educational, non-commercial organization.\n(See advertisement on page 71)\nInternational Harvester Company of America, Inc.\n606 S. Michigan Ave., Chicago\n43 films - agricultural and educational subjects - non-flam - \"free\" - serve all US - write to headquarters or any branch house\nIowa State College, Visual Instruction Service, Ames, Iowa\n1000 films - wide range of educational subjects - flam and non-flam - mostly 35mm, a few 16mm - service-fee rental only - serve Iowa and outside as requested.\nGeorge Kleine\n804 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago\n50 films - educational and entertainment subjects - flam and non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - rent and sell - serve all US - write to learn nearest distributing center.\nGeorge Kleine, Captain F. E.\n220 W. 42nd St., New York City\n9 films - educational and entertainment on the Far North - flam and non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - rent only - serve all US - write headquarters for full information.\n33 W. 42nd St., New York City\nOver 500 subjects \u2014 educational and entertainment in wide variety \u2014 16mm exclusively \u2014 largest existing library of 16mm films, including many theatrical features, reproduced on the small sized film \u2014 non-flam only \u2014 rent and sell \u2014 serve all U.S.\nWrite to nearest branch as listed below. The branches are grouped according to what subjects they carry in stock from the Descriptive Catalog. (Address always Kodascope Libraries, Inc., as below.)\n\nWinnipeg: 205 Paris Bldg.\nChicago: 137 N. Wabash Ave. Odd-Numbered Subjects\nDetroit: 1206 Woodward Ave.\nAtlanta: 183 Peachtree St.\nLos Angeles: 643 S. Hill St.\nCincinnati: 110 W. 8th St.\nMinneapolis: 112 S 5th St.\nPhiladelphia: 132 S. 15th St.\nPittsburgh: 606 Wood St.\n343 State St, Rochester, San Francisco 545 Market St, Canada Even-Numbered Subjects, 104 Drummond Bldg, Montreal, 156 King St, Toronto, 156 King St, Kansas City 916 Grand Ave, Vancouver 310 Credit Foncier, Seattle 111 Cherry St, 81 Leggett J Alexander Co 2 W 46th St New York City, 7 films, general educational subjects, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, \"free\", serve all U.S., 82 Liberty Mutual Insurance Co Park Square Bldg, Boston, Mass, 4 films, industrial safety subjects, flam and non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, rent and sell, serve all U.S., 83 Long-Bell Lumber Co Kansas City Mo, 3 films, lumber industry subjects, flam and non-flam, \"free\", serve all U.S., 84 Maryland State Game Department 512 Munsey Bldg, Baltimore, Md, Several films, game and hunting subjects, flam, \"free\", serve all.\nDr. Thomas McCrum, 4144 Charlotte St., Kansas City, Mo. - 3 films on dental health subjects, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, sell only, serve all U.S.\nMcCurdy Films, 56th & Woodland Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. - 20 films on oral hygiene, health and educational subjects in story form, write direct for information.\nMethodist Episcopal Church, Board of Education, 740 Rush St., Chicago - 9 films on Methodist educational enterprises, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, \"free,\" serve all U.S.\nSeventh Edition\n\nProducers and Distributors\nMetro-Goldwyn-Mayer (Primarily theatrical), 1540 Broadway, N.Y.C. - Many films, mainly entertainment, flam, rent only, serve all U.S., write nearest exchange.\nNew Orleans, 223 S. Liberty St.\nAlbany, 1060 Broadway, New York, 630 Ninth Av.\nAtlanta, 191 Walton St.\nOklahoma City,\nBoston, 60 Church St., 515 S. Robinson St.\nBuffalo, 505 Pearl St.\nButte, 38 W. Broadway\nCharlotte, 219 W. 4th St. Pittsburgh.\nChicago, 831 S. Wabash Av. \"631 Blvd. of the Allies\nCincinnati, 526 Broadway Portland, OR 451 Glisan St.\nCleveland, E. 21st and Payne\nDallas, 300 S. Harwood St. 215 Golden Gate Av.\nDenver, 805 21st St. Salt Lake City, 204 E. 1st South\nDes Moines, 1111 High St. St. Louis, 3332 Olive St.\nDetroit, 2310 Cass Av.\nSeattle, 2401 Second St.\nIndianapolis, 438 N. Illinois St. Washington, DC 1009 N. J. Av. NW\nKansas City, 1706 Wvandotte Canada\nLos Angeles, 964 S. Vermont Calgary, 308 Traders Bldg.\nMemphis. 494 S. Second St. Montreal, 12 Mayor St.\nMilwaukee, 726 State St. St. John, 131 Princess St.\n74 Glenwood Av, Vancouver, 553 Granville St, New Haven, 134 Meadow St, Winnipeg, Ellis and Hargrave St, 89 Metropolitan Life Insurance Co, 1 Madison Ave, New York City, 4 films - health subjects, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, \"free\", serve all US, 600 Stockton St, San Francisco, Calif., and 180 Wellington St, Ottawa, Canada, 90 Metropolitan Motion Picture Co, 108 W. 34th St, New York City, Over 100 films - educational and entertainment, 35mm and 16mm, flam and non-flam, rent and sell, serve all US, 91 Metropolitan Museum of Art, 5th Ave at 82nd St, New York City, 29 films - art subjects, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, rent, some \"free\" to local schools only, serve all US, 92 Michigan Film Library, 2310 Cass Ave, Detroit, Mich., 50 films - educational and recreational, flam and non-flam, 35mm.\nA few rent and sell 16mm films, serve Michigan, Ohio, Indiana.\n93 Minnesota Public Health Association 11 W. Summit Ave., St. Paul\nI film health subjects, flam and non-flam, rent and serve Minnesota only.\n94 Modern Woodmen of America Rock Island, 111. 12 films health, scenic, nature and history of M.W.A., mostly non-flam, mostly 35mm, \"free\", serve all U.S. through exchanges - write direct for nearest exchange.\n95 Movie Makers, Inc. 110 W. 8th St., Cincinnati, O. Distributors for Kodascope Library of 16mm films, producers of industrial motion pictures, complete equipment for film-users.\n96 Muir, James C, and Co. 10 S. 18th St., Philadelphia, Pa. 14 films general educational subjects, non-flam, rent, sell and \"free\", serve all Pennsylvania and New Jersey - also full visual equipment for educational use.\n1737 N. Campbell Ave., Chicago: Mutual Film Laboratory\nDayton, Ohio: National Cash Register Co.\nII. films - industry - mostly non-flam \"free\" - serve all U.S.\n70 Fifth Ave., New York City: National Child Welfare Association\n1 film - on character - flam - rent or sell - serve all U.S.\n221 N. LaSalle St., Chicago: National Dairy Council\nSeveral films - dairy and health subjects - flam and non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - rent or sell, some \"free\" - serve Michigan, Ohio, Indiana.\n2510 Cass Ave., Detroit, Mich.: National Film Corp.\n50 films - educational and recreational - flam and non-flam - 35mm mostly, a few 16mm - rent and sell, some \"free\" - serve Michigan, Ohio, Indiana.\n25 Pemberton Sq., Boston, Mass.: National Motion Picture Bureau\nSeveral films - industrial and educational - flam and non-flam - rent - serve mainly New England states.\nProducers and Distributors:\nNational Motion Pictures Co., Holliday Bldg., Indianapolis, Ind.\n50 films \u2014 health and safety subjects, flam or non-flam, mostly 35mm\nRent and sell, serve all U.S.\nNational Safety Council, 20 N. Wacker Drive, Chicago\n50 films \u2014 health, safety, industry, flam and non-flam, 35mm and 16mm\nRent, sell, and \"free,\" serve all U.S.\nNational Tuberculosis Association, 370 Seventh Ave., New York City\n9 films \u2014 health subjects, flam or non-flam, 35mm and 16mm\nSell only, serve all U.S. \u2014 also available through 48.\nNorthern Pacific Railway, St. Paul, Minn.\n15 films \u2014 educational and scenic pictures of Northwest, mostly flam\n35mm, a few 16mm, \"free\"\nServe all U.S., write direct for nearest source.\nParamount Famous Lasky Corporation, Paramount Bldg., Times Sq., New York City\n(Primarily theatrical)\nMany films - mainly entertainment - rent only serve all US cities: Albany, Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Butte, Charlotte, Chicago, Cincinnati, 33 Orange St., 158 Walton St., 58 Berkeley St., 464 Franklin St., 55 W. Granite St., 1327 S. Wabash Av., Central Pkwy and Grand St., 300 S. Jefferson St., 1625 Court Place, Cleveland, Columbus, Dallas, 3 Denver, Denver, Detroit, Des Moines, Indianapolis, Jacksonville, Kansas City, 1800 Wyandotte St., Los Angeles, 1980 S. Vermont Ave., 265 S. Front St., 335 Eighth St., 134 Meadow St., 215 S. Liberty, Memphis, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, New Haven, New Orleans, Parthenon Pictures, Four films - entertainment - nearest source. Some New York (& New Jersey), Oklahoma City, 701 Grand Av., Omaha, 1610 Davenport St., Philadelphia, 1201 Vine St., Pittsburgh, of the Allies. Portland (Me.), 263 St. John's St., Portland (Ore.), 444 Glisan St.\nSt. Louis, 3721 Washington Blvd, Salt Lake City, 200 E 1st South, San Antonio, 501 Soledad St, San Francisco, 201 Golden Gate Ave, Seattle, 2413 Second Ave, Sioux Falls, 318 S Main St, Washington, 1101 N Capitol St, Calgary, 320 Traders Bldg, Montreal, 366 Mayor St, St. John, 133 Princess St, Toronto, 111 Bond St, Vancouver, Film Exchange Bldg, Winnipeg, Film Exchange Bldg, 1650 Broadway, New York City, -flam \u2014 rent \u2014 serve all US \u2014 write direct for 'sound' films ready, 109 Pathe Exchange, Inc. 35 W 45th St, New York City, Great number of subjects for educational as well as theatrical field \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm \u2014 rent \u2014 some \"sound\" films ready \u2014 serve all US \u2014 write nearest exchange \u2014 Albany, Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Butte, Charlotte, Chicago, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Dallas, Denver, Des Moines, Detroit, 33 Orange St, 164 Walton St.\n39 Church St.\n505 Pearl St.\n116 W. Granite St.\n221 W. 4th St.\n1023 S. Wabash Av.\n526 Broadway\n2100 Payne Av.\n320 S. Harwood St.\n2165 Broadway\n72 Glenwood Av.\n134 Meadow St.\n221 S. Liberty St.\n622 9th Av.\nMilwaukee, Minneapolis, New Haven, New Orleans, New York, Oklahoma City, 515 S. Robinson St., Omaha, 1508 Davenport St., Philadelphia, 1219 Vine St., Pittsburgh, 1623 Blvd. of Allies, Portland (Ore.), 443 Glisan St., St. Louis, 3318 Olive St., Salt Lake City, 206 E. 1st South, Indianapolis, 120 W. Mich. St., San Francisco. 321 Turk St.\nKansas City, 117 West 17th St.\nSeattle, 2312 Second Ave.\nLos Angeles, 1926 S. Vermont\nWashington, 916 G St., NW\nMemphis, 302 Mulberry\n110 Pathegrams, Pathe Exchange, 35 W. 45th St., New York City\nLarge library \u2014 many educational and entertainment subjects \u2014 non-flam \u2014 16mm only \u2014 rented by Pathe 16mm Library Distributors throughout the country.\n111 Peabody, Henry G. P. O. Box 111, Pasadena, Cal.\nMany films \u2014 national park subjects \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm \u2014 sell \u2014 serve all U.S.\n112 Phoenix Photoplay Exchanges of America 130 W. 46th St., N.Y.C.\nSix films \u2014 religious subjects \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 rent \u2014 serve all U.S.\n113 Pictorial Clubs 35 W. 45th St., New York City\nThirty-seven films \u2014 entertainment, religious, educational \u2014 mostly non-flam \u2014 rent only \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 write nearest Pathe Exchange.\n114 Pinkney Film Service 1028 Forbes St., Pittsburgh, Pa.\nEight hundred films \u2014 educational and entertainment, solely non-theatrical \u2014 35mm mostly, a few 16mm \u2014 rent only \u2014 serve western Pennsylvania.\n115 Plymouth Film Corp., 156 Fifth Avenue, New York City - distributors for 5 films: temperance and religion, flam and non-flam, rent and sell, serve all U.S.\n116 Protecto Films, Inc., 105 W. 40th St., New York City - distributors for 147 films: educational and religious subjects, mostly non-flam, mostly 16mm, rent and sell, serve all U.S.\n117 Prudence Co., 331 Madison Ave., New York City - distributors for 3 films: thrift education, non-flam, serve all U.S., also distributed by Worcester Film Corp., 130 W. 46th St., New York City.\n118 Pycope Inc., Joplin, Mo - distributors for 1 film: dental health, non-flam, 16mm, \"free\", serve all U.S.\n119 Quaker Oats Co., School Health Service, 141 W. Jackson Blvd., Chicago - distributors for 2 films: industrial subjects, non-flam, mostly 35mm, \"free\", serve all U.S.\n120 Q.R.S.-DeVry Corp., 333 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, 630 Ninth Ave., New York City - 100 films with organized courses in various subjects: citizenship, nature study, geography, health, science, etc.; teacher manuals with each - non-flammable only - 35mm and 16mm; rent and sell; serve all US; complete projection equipment supplied on rental basis. (See advertisement on page 4)\n121 RKO Distributing Corp. (Primarily theatrical), 1560 Broadway, N.Y.C. - Many films - mainly entertainment; flammable - rent only; serve all US; write nearest exchange - Albany, 1048 Broadway, New Haven, 124 Meadow St.; Atlanta, 183 Walton St.; New Orleans, 419 Dryades St.; Boston, 59 Church St.; New York, 630 Ninth Ave.; Buffalo, 505 Pearl St.; Oklahoma City, 706 W. Grand Ave.; Charlotte, 300 W. Third St.; Omaha, 1508 Davenport St.\nChicago: 908 S. Wabash Ave, Philadelphia: 1320 Vine St, Cincinnati: Broadway and Pittsburgh: 1623 Blvd of Allies, Portland: 126 N. 12th St, Cleveland: Film Exchange Bldg, Salt Lake City, 256 East 1st South St, Denver: 809 21st St, St. Louis: 3312 Olive St, Des Moines: 915 Grand Av, San Francisco: 310 Turk St, Detroit: 2310 Cass Av, Indianapolis: 428 N. Illinois St, Sioux Falls: 121 West 12th St, Jacksonville: 1262 W. Adams St, Washington: 924 N. J. Av, NW, Kansas City: 1717 Wyandotte St, Los Angeles: Calgary: 326 Traders Bldg, Montreal: 366 Mayor St, Memphis: 492 S. Second St, St. John: 29 Prince William St, Milwaukee: 147 7th St, Vancouver: Film Exch. Bldg.\nMinneapolis, 42 Glenwood, Winnipeg, 503 Film Exch. Bldg.\n122 Ray-Bell Films, Inc., 817 University Ave., St. Paul, Minn.\n45 films \u2014 scenic and industrial \u2014 flam and non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm\n\u2014 \"free\" \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 producers of industrial, educational and animated motion pictures \u2014 1 \"sound\" film ready.\n\nProducers and Distributors \"1000 and One\"\n123 R-D-C Productions (formerly Central Motion Picture Productions) (Primarily theatrical), Southbridge, Mass.\nProducers of theatrical subjects, featuring Westerns, comedies and two-reel short dramatics \u2014 flam only \u2014 rent and sell \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 write to studio for quotations.\n\n124 Religious Motion Picture Foundation, 140 Nassau St., New York City\n4 films \u2014 religious subjects \u2014 non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm \u2014 rent only \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 other distributors (write nearest) are 35, 36, 50.\n125 Ernest M. Reynolds, 165 E. 191 St., Cleveland, Ohio.\n30 films - geographic and scenic - non-flam - 16mm only - sale only - serve all U.S.\n126 Rhinelander Refrigerator Co., Rhinelander, Wis.\n1 film - refrigeration - non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - \"free\" - serve all U.S.\n127 Roosevelt Memorial Association Film Library, 28 E. 20th St., N.Y.C.\n9 films - Roosevelt series - flam or non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - serve all U.S. - distribute only through 170.\n128 Rothacker Film Corp., 113 W. Austin Ave., Chicago.\nProducers and distributors of industrial and educational subjects - \"free\" - write direct for information.\n129 Rowland Rogers Productions, 74 Sherman St., Long Island City, N. Y.\n7 films - health, science, industry - flam and non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - rent, sell and \"free\" - serve all U.S. - write direct for nearest source.\n130 Singer Sewing Machine Co., Singer Building, New York City.\n1 film - sewing by modern methods - non-flammable - 35mm and 16mm - \"free\" - company also pays transportation charges both ways - serves all U.S.\n131 Society for Visual Education Inc. 327 S. LaSalle St., Chicago 150 films - general educational subjects - solely non-theatrical - non-flammable - 35mm and 16mm - rent and sell - serves all U.S. (See advertisement on page 15)\n132 Sono Art-World Wide Pictures, Inc. (Primarily theatrical) 130 W. 46th St., New York City Many films - mainly entertainment - flammable - rent only - serves all U.S. - write headquarters for nearest exchange.\n133 Standard Film Service 600 Film Bldg., Cleveland, Ohio Many films - entertainment and educational subjects, many theatrical features - flammable mostly - rent only - some \"sound\" films - serves Ohio, Michigan, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, West Virginia - write direct for nearest source.\n134 Standard Motion Picture Service\n1906 S. Vermont Ave., Los Angeles, CA, and 177 Golden Gate Ave., San Francisco, CA\nProduce and distribute non-theatrical films - rent only - serve all US\n135 Stanley Educational Film Division\n220 W. 42nd St., New York City\nOne film - on transportation - non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - serve all\n136 Stark Films\n219 W. Center St., Baltimore, MD\n25 films - industrial and educational subjects - mostly non-flam - 35mm, a few 16mm - rent, sell and \"free\" - serve all US - distribute through National Film Co., Front and Gay Sts., Baltimore\n137 George E. Stone, Carmel, Monterey County, CA\nProducer of many notable films in the scientific educational field\nFilms are available through 27 and the Rockefeller Foundation, New York City\n138 Studebaker Corporation of America\nSouth Bend, IN\n\nNote: No significant cleaning was required as the text was already quite clean and readable.\nFive films - automobile industry - non-flam - 35mm mostly, a few 16mm - free - sound film ready - serve all U.S.\n\nThe Seventh Edition\nProducers and Distributors\n\n139. Stuebing Cowan Co. - The Holyoke, Mass., and Cincinnati, Ohio - one film - industrial - non-flam - rent and free - serve all U.S.\n140. Talking: Picture Epics Inc. - 11 W. 42nd St., New York City - 12 films - travel and science - non-flam only - all sound films - rent - serve all U.S. - write headquarters to learn nearest source.\n141. A. Teitel - 804 S. Wabash Ave., Chicago - two films - entertainment and juvenile - flam and non-flam - 35mm and 16mm - rent and sell - serve all U.S.\n\nMany films - general subjects - 35mm and 16mm - rent, sell, some free - local service - projection equipment, visual education surveys, accessories, helps to finance projects - send for lists.\n143 Tiffany Productions Inc. (Primarily theatrical)\n729 Seventh Ave., New York City\nMany films \u2014 mainly entertainment \u2014 rent \u2014 serve all U.S.\nWrite to nearest exchange:\n154 Walton St.\n1046 Broadway\n42 Piedmont St.\n505 Pearl St.\n206 Poplar St.\n806 S. Wabash Av.\nAtlanta,\nAlbany,\nBoston,\nBuffalo,\nCharlotte,\nChicago,\nCincinnati,\nBroadway Film Exch.\nCleveland, Film Exch. Bldg.\nDallas, 308 S. Harwood St.\nDenver, 2044 Broadway\nDetroit, 2310 Cass Av.\nIndianapolis, 432 N. Illinois St.\nKansas City, 113 W. 18th St.\nLos Angeles, 1916 S. Vermont St.\nMilwaukee, 194 Seventh St.\nNew Haven, 126 Meadow St.\nNew Orleans, 409 Dryades St.\n144 UFA Films\nNew York, 630 Ninth Av.\nOklahoma City, 705V2 W. Grand Av.\nOmaha, 1516 Davenport St.\nPhiladelphia, 1313 Vine St.\nPittsburgh, 1014 Forbes St.\nPortland (Ore.), 449 Glisan St.\nSalt Lake City, 250 E. 1st South St.\nSan Francisco, 288 Turk St.\nSt. Louis, 3317 Olive St.\nSeattle, 2417 Second Ave.\nWashington, DC, 916 G St., NW.\nCANADA\nCalgary, 212 Traders' Bldg.\nMontreal, 366 Mayor St.\nSt. John, 158 Union St.\nToronto, 277 Victoria St.\nVancouver, Exchange Bldg.\n1540 Broadway, New York City\nOver 100 remarkable films of educational value, produced in many parts of the world under expert educational supervision \u2014 a great range of educational and scientific subjects \u2014 all non-flammable \u2014 35mm or 16mm \u2014 many \"sound\" films available for rent and lease for long periods \u2014 write headquarters for full information on distribution sources and terms, etc. \u2014 serve all US \u2014 16mm prints also distributed through 18\n145 Underwriters' Laboratories, 207 E. Ohio St., Chicago\n2 films \u2014 fire prevention \u2014 non-flammable \u2014 \"free\" \u2014 serve all US\n146 United Artists (Primarily theatrical)\n125 films \u2014 entertainment \u2014 flammable\nTo nearest exchange \u2014\n154 Walton St, 13 Stanhope St, 505 Pearl St, 224 W. Second St, 804 S. Wabash Av, Atlanta, Boston, Buffalo, Charlotte, Chicago, 1634 Central Pkwy. Blvd, Cleveland, 1611 E. 21st St, Dallas, 308 S. Harwood St, Denver, 2065 Broadway, Detroit, 2310 Cass Av, Indianapolis, 408 N. Illinois St, Kansas City, 1706 Baltimore Av, Los Angeles, 1966 S. Vermont Av, Milwaukee, 147 Seventh Av N, Minneapolis, 1109 First Av N, New Haven, 134 Meadow St, 147 S. Liberty St, 630 Ninth Av, 3 Davenport St, 1014 Forbes St, 3311 Olive St, New Orleans, New York, Omaha, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Salt Lake City, 254 E. 1st South St, San Francisco, 229 Golden Gate Av, Seattle, Washington, Calgary, Montreal, St. John, Toronto, Vancouver, Winnipeg, 2403 Second Av, CANADA, Traders' Bldg, 3975 Monkland Blvd, 85 Union St, 21 Wilton Sq.\nProducers and Distributors: \"1000 and One\"\n147 United Projector and Film Corp., 228 Franklin St., Buffalo, NY\nA large number of films \u2014 educational, religious, entertainment \u2014 non-flam (flammable?); 35mm, 28mm, mostly 16mm, Hepworth subjects; rent, sell, and a few \"free\"; serve territory east of Mississippi.\n148 U.S. Bureau of Mines, Experiment Station, Pittsburgh, PA\n50 films \u2014 mineral industries \u2014 mostly non-flam; 35mm mostly; \"free\"; serve all US; other distributors (write to nearest): Alabama (U.S. Bureau of Mines, Southern Experiment Station, Birmingham), California (U.S. Bureau of Mines, Petroleum Field Office, 506 Customhouse, San Francisco), District of Columbia (U.S. Bureau of Mines, Washington), Indiana (73), Iowa (77), Massachusetts (156j), Minnesota (U.S. Bureau of Mines, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis)\nThe following institutions have films available: apolis, Missouri (156 1), New Jersey (156 n), New York (156 q), Oklahoma (U. S. Bureau of Mines Experiment Station, Bartlesville), Texas (156 u), Utah (U. S. Bureau of Mines, Experiment Station, Univ. of Utah, Salt Lake City), Washington (U. S. Bureau of Mines, Experiment Station, Univ. of Washington, Seattle). Borrowers must comply with rules set by these centers when borrowing films marked by numbers.\n\nU. S. Bureau of Reclamation, Washington, D. C. - 149 films - reclamation subjects, both flam and non-flam - \"free\" - serve all\nU. S. Department of Agriculture, Washington, D. C. - 210 films - covering every phase of agricultural work, forestry, highway construction, and wild life conservation - mostly non-flam - 35mm, a few 16mm - sell and \"free\" - serve all U. S. - some \"sound\" films ready. The Department has no official \"Exchanges\" but many.\nPrints are available at various points throughout the country. Write headquarters to learn nearest source for a particular film.\n\nOffice of Motion Pictures, Department of Agriculture, Washington, D.C.\n151. U.S. Department of Labor, Children's Bureau, Washington, D.C.\nFour films \u2013 child health and welfare, mostly non-flam, rent, sell and \"free,\" serve all U.S. \u2013 write headquarters to learn nearest available source.\n\n152. U.S. Department of Labor, Women's Bureau, Washington, D.C.\nThree films \u2013 women's work, non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, \"free,\" sell if desired, serve all U.S.\n\n153. U.S. Navy Recruiting Bureau, Washington & Christopher Sts., New York City\nTwenty-four films \u2013 travel and navy life, mostly flam, 35mm and 16mm, some \"sound\" films ready, \"free,\" serve all U.S. \u2013 apply at nearest navy recruiting station or 170.\n154 US Steel Corporation, Bureau of Safety, Sanitation and Welfare, 71 Broadway, New York City\n155 Universal Film Exchanges, Inc. (Primarily theatrical), 730 Fifth Ave., New York City\n\nA large number of films - mainly entertainment, a growing number of educational subjects - serve all US: write to nearest exchange.\n\nAlbany, 1054 Broadway, Kansas City,\nAtlanta, 193 Walton St., 1710 Wyandotte St.,\nBoston, 37 Piedmont St., Los Angeles, 1960 S. Vermont St.,\nBuffalo, 257 Franklin St., 126 Meadow St.,\nChicago, 831 S. Wabash Ave., New Haven, 126 Meadow St.,\nCincinnati, Pioneer and Broadway, New Orleans, 1307 Tulane Av.,\nCleveland, 21st and Payne Av., New York, 622 Ninth Av.,\nDallas, 308 Harwood Av., Oklahoma City, 519 W. Main St.\nDes Moines: 10th and High Streets, Philadelphia: 1308 Vine Street, Detroit: 2310 Cass Street, Pittsburgh: 1709 Boulevard of Allies, Indianapolis: 326 N. Illinois Street, Portland: 445 Glisan Street, Jacksonville: 1123 W. Adams Street, St. Louis: 3320 Olive Street, Seventh Edition, PRODUCERS AND DISTRIBUTORS, Universal Film Exchanges, 208 E. 1st South, 610 Soledad St., Salt Lake City, San Antonio, San Francisco: 221 Golden Gate Avenue, Seattle: 2421 Second Avenue, Sioux Falls: 221 S. Main Street, Washington: 924 New Jersey Avenue, Montreal, St. John, Toronto, Vancouver, Winnipeg, CANADA, 12 Mayor Street, 158 Union Street, 277 Victoria Street, Burrard and Davie Streets, 502 Film Exch. Bldg., Large number of films \u2014 mainly educational, many entertainment, University Extension Divisions, Museums, etc.\na. University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa\nb. University of Arkansas, Fayetteville\nc. University of California, Berkeley\nd. University of Colorado, Boulder\ne. University of Indiana, Bloomington\nf. Iowa State College, Ames\ng. State Teachers College, Emporia, Kansas\nh. University of Kansas, Lawrence\ni. Kansas State Agricultural College, Manhattan\nj. Massachusetts State House, Boston\n157. University Film Foundation\nm. University of Missouri, Columbia\nn. New Jersey State Museum, Trenton\no. University of New York State, Albany\np. Buffalo Society of Natural Sciences, Buffalo\nq. American Museum of Natural History, New York\nNorth Carolina, State College, Raleigh\nNorth Dakota, Agricultural College, Fargo\nPennsylvania, Commercial Museum, Philadelphia\nTexas, Univ. of, Austin\nUtah, Univ. of, Salt Lake City\nWisconsin, Univ. of, Madison\n40 Oxford St., Cambridge, Mass\n40 educational films - collaboration with Harvard University faculty and staff - non-flammable - 35mm or 16mm - rent or long-term lease - serve all US - some sound films ready\n150 agricultural films - mostly 35mm - rent, sell, and \"free\" - serve all US\n159 Visualizit, Inc. 581 Peachtree St., Atlanta, Ga\nMany films - educational and entertainment for both theatrical and non-theatrical fields - 35mm and 16mm - rent and \"free\" - serve southern territory - represent Eastman, DeVry, Bell and Howell, S. V. E., Spencer Lens Co.\n160 * Visugraphic Pictures Inc. 247 Park Ave., New York City\n\"Free\" motion pictures: entertaining and educational subjects, aviation, radio, vocational guidance and travelogues.\n\nWarner Brothers (Primarily theatrical) 161 W. 44th St., N.Y.C.\nMany films - entertainment only - flam rent - serve all U.S. - write always to nearest exchange.\n\nAlbanv, 1058 Broadway, Atlanta, 163 Walton St.\nBoston, 131 Arlington St., Buffalo, 257 Franklin St.\nCharlotte, United Film Bldg., Chicago, 839 S. Wabash Av.\nCincinnati, 1208 Central Pkwy., Cleveland, Payne Av. and E. 21st\nDallas, 304 S. Jefferson St., Denver, 2115 Champa St.\nDetroit, 2310 Cass Ave., Indianapolis, 436 N. Illinois St.\nKansas City, 1820 Wyandotte St., Los Angeles, 1968 S. Vermont Av.\nMilwaukee, 149 Seventh St., Minneapolis, 70 Glenwood Av.\n\nProducers and Distributors:\nWarner Brothers (Continued)\nNew Haven, 114 Meadow St., Seattle, 2403 Second Av.\nNew Orleans, 155 S. Liberty St, St. Louis, 3214 Olive St, Oklahoma City, 115 S. Hudson St, CANADA, Omaha, 1502 Davenport St, Calgary, Traders' Bldg, Montreal, 366 Mayor St, Pittsburgh, 1623 Blvd. of Allies, St. John, 162 Union St, Portland, 130 N. 12th St, Toronto, 21 Wilton Sq, Salt Lake City, 210 E. 1st South, Vancouver, 1206 Burrard St, San Francisco, Winnipeg, 330 Film Exch. Bldg, 243 Golden Gate Av, 162 Western Electric Co, 120 W. 41st St, New York City, and Hawthorne Works, Chicago, 35 silent films \u2013 6 sound-on-film (1 & 2 reels) \u2013 their own productions, pertaining to electrical transmission of sound and general electrical subjects \u2013 flam and non-flam \u2013 all free, also sell \u2013 serve all US \u2013 write nearest distributor: Atlanta (So. Bell Tel. & Tel. Co)\nBoston: 245 State St., Boston (New England Telephone & Telegraph Co.)\nChicago: 170 and 111 Bell Telephone Co., 212 W. Washington St.\nCleveland: 750 Huron Rd., Cleveland (Ohio Bell Telephone Co.)\nDenver: 800 14th St., Denver (Mountain States Telephone & Telegraph Co.)\nDetroit: 1365 Cass Av., Detroit (Michigan Bell Telephone Co.)\nIndianapolis: 256 N. Meridian St., Indianapolis (Indiana Bell Telephone Co.)\nLincoln: Lincoln (Lincoln Telephone & Telegraph Co.)\nMilwaukee: 418 Broadway, Milwaukee (Wisconsin Telephone Co.)\nNewark: 1010 Broad St., Newark (New Jersey Telephone Co.)\nNew Haven: So. New England Telephone Co., [unknown street address]\nOmaha: Northwestern Bell Telephone Co.\nPhiladelphia: 1835 Arch St., Philadelphia (Bell Telephone of Pennsylvania)\nSt. Louis: 1010 Pine St., St. Louis (Southwestern Bell Telephone Co.)\nSan Francisco: 140 New Montgomery St., San Francisco (Pacific Telephone & Telegraph Co.)\nWashington: 725 13th St., Washington (Chesapeake & Potomac Telephone Co.)\n163 Westinghouse Electric & Manufacturing Co., East Pittsburgh, Pa.\nFirst National Bank Building, San Francisco, California\n5 films - industrial and educational, non-flam, \"free\" - serve all US: east of Denver write to headquarters, west of Denver write to San Francisco.\n164 Wholesome Films Service, Inc. 48 Melrose St., Boston, Massachusetts\n1,500 films - educational, religious, health, industry, entertainment, some theatrical features, flam and non-flam, rent, sell, a few \"free\" - serve all US, but especially New England - also supply films from local exchanges of all national producers. (See advertisement on page 32)\n165 Wild Flower Preservation Society 3740 Oliver St., Washington DC\n5 films - on wild flowers, flam and non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, rent and sell - serve all US.\n166 Willoughbys 110 W. 32nd St., New York City\nMany films - all 16mm - mostly entertainment, some scenic and novelty.\n167 John C. Winston, Co. 1006 Arch St., Philadelphia, PA - rent and sell, serve New York and vicinity only, handle Filmo subjects.\n168 Yale University Press Film Service 386 Fourth Ave., NYC - distributors of \"The Chronicles of America Photoplays,\" produced by Yale University Press, flam and non-flam, 35mm and 16mm, rent or lease, obtainable from many different sources throughout the country, but arrangements should always be made direct with headquarters.\n169 Richard P. Young, Film Productions 635 Tujunga, Burbank, CA - 5 films, general educational subjects, mostly non-flam, 16mm, a few 35mm, \"free\" and sell some, serve all US, distribute through Y.M.C.A., National Council of, Motion Picture Bureau 120 W. 41st St., NYC and 300 W. Adams Bldg., Chicago.\n2000 films \u2014 all subjects \u2014 all non-flam \u2014 35mm and 16mm \u2014 rent and \"free\" \u2014 serve \"free\" to any organization or institution in the U.S. \u2014 serve all U.S. \u2014 write direct for full information. (See advertisement on page 48)\n\nSeventh Edition\n\nADVERTISEMENT\n\nTalking Pictures\nfor your Silent Projector!\nA XT V standard 35mm portable projector can be converted into a complete talking picture outfit in a kit. Simply attach the Acme Sound Unit and enjoy all the benefits of sound pictures.\n\nEasy to set up and operate.\n\nThe Acme Sound Unit is a small, portable, and synchronized device. It is \"fool-proof.\" It possesses clarity and volume suitable for large or small audiences.\n\nThe simplest and most economical method of projecting talking pictures.\n\nEducational Sound Films\nAvailable through our film rental service, Steisil's complete sound and service offering unlimited educational and entertainment possibilities. Current sound film releases number hundreds of subjects including nature studies, astronomy, physiology, geography, adventure, archaeology, foreign customs, aviation, music, and a variety of others. ATI Sound Picture Equipment and Film Service assures satisfaction. Write us today for a list of sound film subjects available, or an actual demonstration by one of our representatives. Acme Sound Products Corporation, 35 East Wacker Drive - Chicago. A complete projector, sound recording, and film production service. Insist on this safety film. CASTMAN Safety Film, made on a cellulose acetate base, represents the type of motion picture film approved by the Underwriters Laboratories.\nInsist on having all prints on Eastman Kodak Safety Film for unenclosed projection. They give it the same rating as an equal amount of common newsprint paper.... a sure index of the protection which the film gives your audience and your building. Eastman Kodak Company, Rochester, NY.", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "date": "1930", "title": "The adventures of a brownie,", "creator": "Craik, Dinah Maria Mulock, 1826-1887", "lccn": "30031801", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST011106", "partner_shiptracking": "IAGC151", "call_number": "7811680", "identifier_bib": "00020131536", "lc_call_number": "PZ8.C845 A32", "publisher": "Chicago, A. Whitman & co", "description": "p. cm", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "19", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2019-06-19 10:12:20", "updatedate": "2019-06-19 11:15:34", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "identifier": "adventuresofbrow00crai_3", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-06-19 11:15:36", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "operator": "associate-saw-thein@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe2.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "170", "scandate": "20190627190348", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-camela-sevilla@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20190628164437", "republisher_time": "435", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/adventuresofbrow00crai_3", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t2v48fq47", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "openlibrary_edition": "OL27025408M", "openlibrary_work": "OL19835783W", "curation": "[curator]admin-andrea-mills@archive.org[/curator][date]20190906121947[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]invoice201907[/comment]", "sponsordate": "20190731", "additional-copyright-note": "No known restrictions; no copyright renewal found.", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156186676", "backup_location": "ia906906_0", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "99", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1930, "content": "THE \nADVENTURES  OF \nA  BROWNIE \nAS  TOLD  TO  MY  CHILD \nBY \nDINAH  MARIE  MULOCH \nAUTHOR  OF  \"  LITTLE  LAME  PRINCE  \" \nILLUSTRATED  BY \njames  McCracken \nALBERT^WHITMAN \nCHICAGO \nTHE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE \nCopyright  1930 \nBy  Albert  Whitman  &  Co. \nChicago,  U.S.A. \nPrinted  in  the  U.  S.  A. \nCONTENTS. \nADVENTURE  THE  FIRST. \nBrownie  and  the  Cook \nADVENTURE  THE  SECOND. \nBrownie  and  the  Cherry-tree  .... \nADVENTURE  THE  THIRD. \nBrownie  in  the  Farm- yard . \ni \nADVENTURE  THE  FOURTH. \nBrownie\u2019s  Ride . \nADVENTURE  THE  FIFTH. \nBrownie  on  the  Ice . \nPage \nADVENTURE  THE  SIXTH  AND  LAST. \nBrownie  and  the  Clothes  . \nBrownie  lived  in  a  cellar. \nThe  Adventures  of  a  Brownie, \nADVENTURE  THE  FIRST. \nBROWNIE  AND  THE  COOK. \nThere  was  once  a  little  Brownie,  who \nlived \u2014 where  do  you  think  he  lived?  in  a \ncoal-cellar. \nNow  a  coal-cellar  may  seem  a  most  curious \nplace  to  chose  to  live  in ;  but  then  a  Brownie \nA Brownie is a curious creature \u2014 a fairy, yet not one of those kind who fly about on gossamer wings and dance in the moonlight. He never dances, and as to wings, what use would they be to him in a coal-cellar? He is a sober, stay-at-home household elf \u2014 nothing much to look at, even if you did see him, which you are not likely to do \u2014 only a little old man, about a foot high, all dressed in brown, with a brown face and hands, and a brown peaked cap, just the color of a brown mouse. And like a mouse, he hides in corners \u2014 especially kitchen corners \u2014 and only comes out after dark when nobody is about. I said you were not likely to see him. I never did, certainly, and never knew anybody that did. But still, if you were to go to Devon.\nThe Adventures of a Brownie. In a shire in England, there was a family this Brownie had followed from house to house for years and years. Many people had heard of him or supposed they had when there were extraordinary noises about the house. These noises, which must have come from a mouse or a rat or a Brownie, were never seen by anyone except the children - the three little boys and three little girls - who declared he often came to play with them when they were alone. He was the nicest companion in the world, though he was such an old man - hundreds of years old. He was full of fun and mischief, up to all sorts of tricks, but he never did any harm.\nBrownie was supposed to live under a particular coal, in the darkest corner of the cellar, which was never allowed to be disturbed. Why he had chosen it, nobody knew, and how he lived there, or what he lived upon, was also a mystery. However, since the family could remember, there had always been a bowl of milk put behind the coal-cellar door for the Brownie's supper. Perhaps he drank it\u2014perhaps he didn't; the bowl was always found empty next morning. The old Cook, who had lived all her life in the family, had never once forgotten to give Brownie his supper. But at last she died, and a young Cook came in her stead, who was very apt to forget everything. She was also careless and lazy, and disliked the trouble to put a bowl of milk in the same place every night.\nMr. Nobody's night. She didn't believe in Brownies, she hadn't seen one, and she laughed at the other servants who looked grave and placed the milk bowl as often as they could, without saying much about it.\n\nBut once, when Brownie woke up at his usual hour for rising - ten o'clock at night - and looked round in search of his supper, which was, in fact, his breakfast, he found nothing there. At first, he couldn't imagine such neglect and went smelling and smelling about for his bowl of milk. It was not always placed in the same corner now. \"This will never do,\" said he, being extremely hungry, and began running about the coal-cellar to see what he could find. His eyes were as useful in the dark as in the light.\nA pussy-cat's den it wasn't, but there was nothing to see - not even a potato paring, a dry crust, or a well-gnawed bone, such as Tiny the terrier sometimes brought into the coal-cellar and left on the floor - nothing, in short, but heaps of coal and coal-dust. A Brownie can't eat that, you know.\n\n\"Can't stand this; quite impossible!\" said the Brownie, tightening his belt to make his poor little inside feel less empty. He had been asleep so long - about a week, I believe, as was his habit when there was nothing to do - that he seemed ready to eat his own head, or his boots, or anything.\n\n\"What's to be done? Since nobody brings my supper, I must go and fetch it.\"\n\nHe spoke quickly, for he always thought quickly, and made up his mind in a minute. It was a very little mind, like his.\nA little body, but he did the best he could with it and was not a bad sort of old fellow, in the house he had never done any harm. The Adventures of a Brownie. He often did some good, for he frightened away all the rats, mice, and black-beetles. Not the crickets \u2013 he liked them, as the old Cook had done. She said they were such cheerful creatures and always brought luck to the house. But the young Cook could not bear them and used to pour boiling water down their holes and set basins of beer for them with little wooden bridges up to the rim, that they might walk up, tumble in, and be drowned.\n\nSo there was not even a cricket singing in the silent house when Brownie put his head out of his coal-cellar door, which, to his surprise, he found open. Old Cook used to lock it every night, but the young Cook had neglected this task.\n\"Hurrah, here's luck!\" Brownie cried, tossing his cap up in the air and bounding right through the scullery into the kitchen. It was quite empty, but there was a good fire burning itself out \u2013 just for its own amusement \u2013 and the remains of a capital supper spread on the table: enough for half a dozen people being left.\n\nWould you like to know what was there? Cream, of course; and part of a large dish of junket, which is something like curds and whey. Lots of bread-and-butter and cheese, and half an apple-pudding. Also, a great jug of cider and another of milk, and several half-full glasses, and no end of dirty plates, knives, and forks.\nAll forks scattered about the table in the most untidy fashion, just as the servants had risen from their supper without thinking to put anything away.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nBrownie screwed up his little old face and turned up his button of a nose, giving a long whistle. You might not believe it, seeing he lived in a coal-cellar; but really, he liked tidiness and always played his pranks upon disorderly or slovenly folk.\n\n\"Whew!\" said he; \"here's a chance.\"\n\nAnd he jumped onto a chair and thence to the table, but so quietly that the large black cat with four white paws, called Muff because she was so fat and soft, and her fur so long, who sat dozing in front of the fire, just opened one eye and went back to sleep again. She had tried to get her nose into the milk-jug.\nShe was too small, and the dish was too deep for her to reach, except with one paw. She didn't care much for bread and cheese and apple-pudding, and was very well fed.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nBesides, so after just wandering round the table, she had jumped down from it again, and settled herself to sleep on the hearth. But Brownie had no notion of going to sleep. He wanted his supper, and oh! what a supper he did eat! First one thing and then another, and then trying everything all over again.\n\nAnd oh! what a lot he drank! \u2014 first milk and then cider, and then mixed the two together in a way that would have disagreed with anybody except a Brownie.\n\nAs it was, he was obliged to slacken his belt several times, and at last take it off altogether. But he must have had a most extraordinary capacity for eating and drinking.\nHe was just as lively after clearing the table, jumping about as if he hadn't had supper. The Adventures of a Brownie. His jumping was awkward due to the clean white tablecloth, which had only been Monday and hadn't had time to get dirty - the Cook was untidy. Brownie lived in a coal-cellar, and his feet were black from running about in coal dust. He left impressions behind on the tablecloth until it was covered in black marks. He didn't mind this; in fact, he took great pains to make the cloth as dirty as possible. Laughing loudly, \"Ho, ho, ho!\", he leaped onto the hearth and began teasing the cat, squeaking like a mouse or chirping like a cricket, or buzzing like a fly.\nPussy's mind was disturbed so much that she hid herself in the farthest corner, leaving the hearth to him. Brownie began teasing the cat.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nHearing a slight noise overhead, which might be the servants getting up, he jumped on the table again. He gobbled up the few remaining crumbs for his breakfast and scampered off to his coal-cellar, where he hid under his big coal and fell asleep for the day.\n\nWell, the Cook came down stairs rather earlier than usual, for she remembered she had to clear off the remains of supper. But lo and behold, there was nothing left to clear! Every bit of food was eaten up \u2013 the cheese looked as if a dozen mice had been nibbling at it and nibbled it down to the very rind; the milk and cider were all drunk.\nMice don't care for milk and cider. The apple-pudding had vanished altogether. The dish was licked clean, as if Boxer, the yard-dog, had been at it in his hungriest mood.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\n\"And my white tablecloth \u2013 oh, my clean white tablecloth! What has been done to it?\" she cried in amazement. For it was all over little black footmarks, just the size of a baby's foot \u2013 only babies don't wear shoes with nails in them and don't run about and climb on kitchen tables after all the family have gone to bed.\n\nCook was a little frightened; but her fright changed to anger when she saw the large black cat stretched comfortably on the hearth. Poor Muff had crept there for a little snooze after Brownie went away.\n\n\"You nasty cat! I see it all now; it\u2019s you that have eaten up all the supper,\" she accused.\nYou who have been on my clean table-cloth with your dirty paws. They were white paws, and as clean as possible. But Cook never thought of that. The Adventures of a Brownie. More than she did of the fact that cats don't usually drink cider or eat apple-pudding.\n\n\"I'll teach you to come stealing food in this way; take that \u2013 and that \u2013 and that!\" Cook got hold of a broom and beat poor Pussy till the creature ran mewing away. She couldn't speak, you know \u2013 unfortunate cat! And tell people it was Brownie who had done it all.\n\nNext night Cook thought she would make all safe and sure. So, instead of letting the cat sleep by the fire, she shut her up in the chilly coal-cellar, locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and went off to bed \u2013 leaving the supper as before.\n\nWhen Brownie woke up and looked out.\nHe peered about, trying to find a cranny under the door to creep out, but there was none. He felt so hungry that he could almost have eaten the cat, who kept walking to and fro in a melancholy manner. Only she was alive, and he couldn't well eat her alive. Something must be done, and luckily, Brownies can do things which nobody else can do. So he thought he would change himself into a mouse and gnaw a hole through the door. But then he suddenly remembered the cat, who, though he had decided not to eat her, might take this opportunity of eating him.\nHe thought it advisable to wait till she was fast asleep. The Adventures of a Brownie. Pussy turned round on her tail six times, curled down in a corner, and fell fast asleep. Immediately, Brownie changed himself into the smallest mouse possible and gnawed a hole in the door, squeezing himself through and turning into his proper shape again for fear of accidents. The kitchen fire was at its last glimmer, but it showed a better supper than even last night. The Cook had friends with her - a brother and two cousins - and they were exceedingly merry. The food they had left behind was enough for three Brownies at least, but this one managed to eat it all up. Only once, in trying to eat a particularly stubborn piece of meat, did he make a noise.\nto  cut  a  great  slice  of  beef,  he  let  the  carving, \nknife  and  fork  fall  with  such  a  clatter,  that \nTiny  the  terrier,  who  was  tied  up  at  the  foot  of \nthe  stairs,  began  to  bark  furiously.  However, \nhe  brought  her  her  puppy,  which  had  been  left \nin  a  basket  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen,  and  so \nsucceeded  in  quieting  her. \nAfter  that  he  enjoyed  himself  amazingly, \nand  made  more  marks  than  ever  on  the  white \ntable-cloth  ;  for  he  began  jumping  about  like  a \npea  on  a  platter,  in  order  to  make  his  partic- \nularly  large  supper  agree  with  him. \nThen,  in  the  absence  of  the  cat,  he  teased \nthe  puppy  for  an  hour  or  two,  till,  hearing  the \nclock  strike  five,  he  thought  it  as  well  to  turn \ninto  a  mouse  again,  and  creep  back  cautiously \ninto  his  cellar. \nHe  was  only  just  in  time,  for  Muff  opened \nTHE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNfE. \none  eye,  and  was  just  going  to  pounce  upon \nHim, when he changed himself back into a Brownie. She was so startled that she bounded away, her tail growing into twice its natural size, and her eyes gleaming like round green globes. But Brownie only said, \u201cHa, ha, ho!\u201d and walked deliberately into his hole.\n\nWhen Cook came down stairs and saw that the same thing had happened again\u2014that the supper was all eaten, and the tablecloth blacker than ever with the extraordinary foot-marks\u2014she was greatly puzzled. Who could have done it all?\n\nNot the cat, who came mewing out of the coal-cellar the minute she unlocked the door. Possibly a rat\u2014but then, would a rat have come within reach of Tiny?\n\n\"It must have been Tiny herself, or her puppy,\" which just came rolling out of its basket over Cook's feet. \"You little wretch! You and your mother are the greatest nuisance!\"\nAnd quite forgetting that Tiny had been safely tied up all night, and her puppy was so fat and helpless it could scarcely stand, let alone jump on chairs and tables, she gave them both such a thrashing that they ran howling out of the kitchen door. The kind little kitchen-maid took them up in her arms.\n\n\"You ought to have beaten the Brownie, if you could catch him,\" she whispered. \"He'll do it again and again, you'll see. For he can't bear an untidy kitchen. You'd better do as poor old Cook did, and clear the supper things away, and put the odds and ends safe in the larder. Also, if I were you, I'd put a bowl of milk behind the coal-cellar door.\"\n\n\"Nonsense!\" answered the young Cook.\nAnd she flounced away. But afterward, she thought better of it and did as she was advised, grumbling all the time, but doing it.\n\nThe next morning, the milk was gone. Perhaps Brownie had drunk it up; anyway, nobody could say that he hadn't. As for the supper, Cook having safely laid it on the shelves of the larder, nobody touched it. And the tablecloth, which was wrapped v.p. tidily and put in the dresser drawer, came out as clean as ever, with not a single black foot-mark on it. No mischief being done, the cat and the dog both escaped beating, and Brownie played no more tricks with anybody \u2013 till the next time.\n\nThe biggest fruit always grows highest.\n\nAdventure the Second.\nBrownie and the Cherry-Tree.\n\nThe \"next time\" was quick in coming, which was not wonderful, considering there was a Brownie in the house. Otherwise, the house was like most other houses, and the inhabitants went about their daily business, unaware of the mischievous little creature that lurked in the shadows, waiting for his next opportunity to play a trick.\nThe family was like most others. The children were sometimes good and sometimes naughty, but they deserved to have a Brownie to play with them, as they declared many times. Their favorite playplace was the orchard, where grew the biggest cherry tree you ever saw. They called it their \"castle,\" as it rose up ten feet from the ground in one thick stem and then branched out into a circle of boughs, with a flat place in the middle where two or three children could sit at once. There they often sat, turn by turn or one at a time \u2014 sometimes with a book, reading. The biggest boy made a sort of rope-ladder by which they could climb up and down \u2014 which they did all winter and enjoyed their \"castle\" very much.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\nBut one day in spring they found their ladder cut away! The Gardener had done it, saying it injured the tree, which was just coming into blossom. The Gardener was a gruff man with a growling voice. He did not mean to be unkind, but he disliked children; he said they bothered him. But when they complained to their mother about the ladder, she agreed with the Gardener that the tree must not be injured, as it bore the biggest cherries in all the neighborhood \u2013 so big that the old saying of \"taking two bites at a cherry,\" came really true.\n\n\"Wait till the cherries are ripe,\" said she; and so the little people waited, and watched it through its leafing and blossoming \u2013 such sheets of blossom, white as snow! \u2013 till the fruit began to show, and grew large and red on every bough.\n\nAt last one morning the mother said, \"Go and get your ladder now.\"\n\"Should you like to help gather the cherries? Hurrah! They cried, and not a day too soon. We saw a flock of birds in the next field - and if we don't clear the tree, they will. Very well; clear it then. Only mind and fill my basket quite full, for preserving. What is over you may eat, if you like. Thank you, thank you! And the children were eager to be off, but the mother stopped them till she could get the Gardener and his ladder. For it is he must climb the tree, not you; and you must do exactly as he tells you; and he will stop with you all the time, and see that you don't come to harm. This was no slight cloud on the children's happiness, and they begged hard to go alone. Please, might we? We will be so good!\"\nThe adventures of a Brownie. They tumbled off the tree or ate themselves sick with cherries. \"You would not be safe, and I should be so unhappy!\" To make mother \"unhappy\" was the worst rebuke possible to these children. So they choked down their disappointment and followed the Gardener as he walked on ahead, carrying his ladder on his shoulder. He looked very cross and as if he did not like the children's company at all.\n\nThey were pretty good, on the whole, though they chattered a good deal. Gardener said not a word to them all the way to the orchard.\n\nWhen they reached it, he just told them to \"keep out of his way and not worrit him,\" which they politely promised. But children who cannot enjoy their cherry-gathering at all.\nThe Gardener was steadying his ladder against the cherry-tree when suddenly the barking of a fierce dog was heard. It seemed close by them, then in the flower-garden, then in the fowl-yard. Gardener dropped the ladder from his hands. \"It's that Boxer! He has gotten loose again! He will be running after my chickens and dragging his broken chain all over my borders. And he is so fierce, and so delighted to get free. He'll bite anybody who ties him up, except me.\" \"Hadn't you better go and see after him?\" Gardener thought it was the eldest boy who spoke, and turned angrily around; but the little fellow had never opened his lips.\n\nA louder bark was heard. (The Adventures of a Brownie.)\n\"There he is \u2014 I\u2019m sure of it! Jumping over my bedding-out plants and breaking my cucumber frames. Bother the dog! I\u2019m going to catch him! Off Gardener darted in a violent passion, throwing the ladder down upon the grass, and forgetting all about the cherries and the children. The instant he was gone, a shrill laugh, loud and merry, was heard close by, and a little brown old man\u2019s face peeped from behind the cherry-tree. How do you do? \u2014 Boxer was me. Didn\u2019t I bark well? Now I\u2019m come to play with you. The children clapped their hands; they knew they were going to have some fun. If Brownie was there \u2014 he was the best little playfellow in the world. And then they had him all to themselves. Nobody ever saw him except the children.\"\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\"Come on! cried he in his shrill voice, half like an old man's, half like a baby's, Who'll begin to gather the cherries? They all looked blank; for the tree was so high to where the branches sprung, and besides, their mother had said they were not to climb. And the ladder lay flat upon the grass \u2014 far too heavy for little hands to move. What! you big boys don't expect a poor little fellow like me to lift the ladder all by myself? Try! I'll help you. Whether he helped or not, no sooner had they taken hold of the ladder than it rose up, almost of its own accord, and fixed itself quite safely against the tree.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nBut we must not climb \u2014 mother told us not, said the boys, ruefully. Mother said we were to stand at the bottom and pick up the cherries.\"\nI'll run up the tree myself. Before the words were out of his mouth, Brownie had darted up the ladder like a monkey and disappeared among the fruit-laden branches. The children looked dismayed for a minute, till they saw the merry brown face peeping out from the green leaves at the very top of the tree. \"The biggest fruit always grows highest,\" cried the Brownie. \"Stand in a row, all you children. Little boys, hold out your caps; little girls, make a bag of your pinafores. Open your mouths and shut your eyes, and set what the queen will send you.\" They laughed and did as they were told; the cherries showered down.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nThey were drowned in a shower of cherries \u2013 cherries falling like hailstones, hitting them on their heads, their cheeks, their noses \u2013 filling their caps and pinafores.\nThen rolling and tumbling on the grass, until it was strewn thick as leaves in autumn with the rosy fruit. What a glorious scramble they had - these three little boys and three little girls! How they laughed and jumped and knocked heads together in picking up the cherries, yet never quarreled - for there were such heaps, it would have been ridiculous to squabble over them; and besides, whenever they began to quarrel, Brownie always ran away. Now he was the merriest of the lot: ran up and down the tree like a cat, helped to pick up the cherries, and was first-rate at filling the large market-basket.\n\n\"We were to eat as many as we liked, only we must first fill the basket,\" conscientiously said the eldest girl; upon which they all set to at once, and filled it to the brim.\n\n\"Now we'll have a dinner-party,\" cried the eldest boy.\nBrownie sat down like a Turk, crossing his queer little legs and sticking his elbows on his knees in a way nobody but a Brownie could manage. \"Sit in a ring! sit in a ring! And we'll see who can eat fastest.\" The children obeyed. I don't know how many cherries they devoured or how fast they did it, but I hope they weren't ill the next day and that all the cherry-stones they swallowed by mistake didn't disagree with them. But perhaps nothing disagrees with one when one dines with a Brownie. They ate so much, laughing in equal proportion, that they had quite forgotten the Gardener. All of a sudden, they heard him clicking angrily through the orchard gate and talking to himself. \"That nasty dog! It wasn't Boxer, after all. A nice joke! To find him quietly asleep in the barn.\"\n\"his kennel having hunted him from one end of the garden to the other! Now for the cherries and the children \u2013 bless us, where are the children? And the cherries! Why, the tree is as bare as a black thorn in February! The starlings have been at it, after all. Oh dear! oh dear! \"Oh dear! oh dear!\" echoed a voice behind the tree, followed by shouts of mocking laughter. Not from the children \u2013 they sat as demurely as possible, all in a ring, with their hands before them, and in the center the huge basket of cherries, piled as full as it could possibly hold. But the Brownie had disappeared.\n\n\"You naughty brats, I\u2019ll have you punished!\" cried the Gardener, furious at the laughter, for he never laughed himself. But as there was nothing wrong; the cherries\"\nBeing gathered - a very large crop - and the ladder found safe in its place, it was difficult to say what harm had been done and who had done it. So he went growling back to the house, carrying the cherries to the mistress, who coaxed him into good temper again, as she sometimes did; bidding also the children to behave well to him, since he was an old man, and really not bad - only cross.\n\nAs for the little folks, she had not the slightest intention of punishing them; and, as for Brownie, it was impossible to catch him. So nobody was punished at all.\n\nADVENTURE THE THIRD.\nBROWNIE IN THE FARM-YARD.\n\nWhich was a place where he did not often go, for he preferred being warm and snug in the house. But when he felt himself ill-used, he would wander anywhere, in order to play tricks upon those whom he thought had wronged him.\nOne day, Brownie overheard the Gardener advising the Cook to put sour milk into his bowl at night instead of sweet. He wouldn't find out the difference, the Cook said, not more than pigs or dogs. It's just a waste, the Cook believed. Then you'd better hold your tongue and mind your own business, the Cook retorted, her sharp temper not allowing for meddling. She began to abuse the Gardener soundly.\nBut his wife, standing by, took his part as she always did when any third party scolded him. So they all squabbled together until Brownie hid under his coal and put his little hands over his little ears.\n\n\"Dear me, what a noise these mortals make when they quarrel! They quite deafen me. I must teach them better manners.\"\n\nBut when Cook slammed the door to, leaving Gardener and his wife alone, they too began to dispute between themselves.\n\n\"You make such a fuss over your nasty pigs and get all the scraps for them,\" his wife said. \"It's of much more importance that I should have everything Cook can spare for my chickens. Never were such chickens as my last brood!\"\n\n\"I thought they were ducklings.\"\n\n\"How you catch me up, you rude old man! They are ducklings, and beauties, too\u2014\"\nThough they have never seen water, you promised to make a pond for me? Where's the pond, I wonder?\n\n\"Rubbish, woman! If my cows don't need a pond, yours might. And why would you be so foolish as to rear ducklings at all? Fine fat chickens are a better deal. You'll find out your mistake some day.\"\n\n\"And so will you when that old Alderney runs dry. You'll wish you had taken my advice, and fattened and sold her.\"\n\n\"Alderney cows won't sell for fattening, and women's advice is never worth two-pence. Yours isn't worth even a half-penny. What are you laughing at?\"\n\n\"I wasn't laughing,\" said the wife, angrily. But it wasn't she, but little Brownie, running under the barrow that the Gardener was wheeling along, amused at the silly people squabbling about nothing.\nThe Adventures of a Brownie. It was still early morning; for this old couple's faults were not laziness. The wife rose with the dawn to feed her poultry and collect her eggs; the husband also got through as much work by breakfast-time as many an idle man does by noon. But Brownie had been beforehand with them this day.\n\nWhen all the fowls came running to be fed, the big Brahma hen, who had hatched the ducklings, was seen wandering forlornly about and clucking mournfully for her young brood \u2013 she could not find them anywhere.\n\nHad she been able to speak, she might have told how a large white duck had waddled into the farmyard and waddled out again, coaxing them after her, no doubt in search of a pond. But missing they were, most certainly.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\"Cluck, cluck, cluck!\" mourned the hen.\nThe Gardener's wife cried, \"Oh, my ducklings! Who took my beautiful ducklings?\" The Gardener replied, \"It might have been rats.\" As he walked away, he heard a rat squeak beneath his wheelbarrow but couldn't catch it. His wife couldn't catch the white duck either. Six little people entered the farmyard, having been allowed to go milking with the Gardener when they behaved. They scampered after him, begging to go to the field and each carrying a mug for milk.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nThe wife was shocked, \"Six cupfuls of milk, but I have none to spare. Cook is always demanding more.\"\nThe poor little folks made the best of a bad business and obeyed. Then they followed Gardener down to the field, rather dolefully. But it was such a beautiful morning that they soon recovered their spirits. The grass shone with dew, like a sheet of diamonds, and the clover smelled so sweet. Two skylarks were singing at one another high up in the sky. Several rabbits darted past, to their great amusement, especially one very large rabbit - brown, not gray - which dodged them in and out, and once nearly threw Gardener down, pail and all, by running across his feet; which set them all laughing, till they came where\nDolly, the cow, lay chewing her cud under a large oak-tree. It was great fun to stir her up and lie down, one after another, in the place where she had lain all night long, making the grass flat, and warm, and perfumy with her sweet breath. She let us do it, and then stood meekly by; for Dolly was the gentlest cow in the world.\n\nBut this morning something strange seemed to possess her. She altogether refused to be milked \u2013 kicked, plunged, tossed over the pail, which was luckily empty.\n\n\"Bless the cow! What's wrong with her? It's surely your fault, children. Stand off, the whole lot of you. So, Dolly, I good Dolly!\"\n\nBut Dolly was anything but good. She stood twitching her tail and looking as savage as so mild an animal possibly could look.\n\n\"It's all your doing, you naughty children.\"\nYou have been playing a trick, I know,\" cried the Gardener, in great wrath. They assured him they had done nothing. The biggest boy pointed out a large wasp that had settled in Dolly's ear.\n\n\"That accounts for everything,\" said the Gardener.\n\nBut it did not mend everything; for when he tried to drive it away, it kept coming back and back again, buzzing around his own head and the cow's, with a voice that the children thought was less like the buzz of a wasp than the sound of a person laughing. At length it frightened Dolly to such an extent that, with one wild bound, she darted right away and galloped off to the further end of the field.\n\n\"I'll get a rope and tie her legs together,\" cried the Gardener, fiercely. \"She shall repent.\"\n\"giving me all this trouble \u2014 that she shall!\u201d laughed somebody. The Gardener thought it was the children and gave one of them an angry cuff as he walked away. But they knew it was somebody else, and were not at all surprised when, the minute his back was turned, Dolly came walking quietly back, led by a little wee brown man who scarcely reached up to her knees. Yet she let him guide her, which he did as gently as possible, though the string he held her by was no thicker than a spider's web, floating from one of her horns.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\n\"Soh, Dolly! good Dolly!\" cried Brownie, mimicking the Gardener's voice. \"Now we'll see what we can do. I want my breakfast badly \u2014 don't you, little folks?\"\n\nOf course they did, for the morning air made them very hungry.\n\n\"Very well \u2014 wait a bit, though. Old Mother Hubbard is coming soon with her broom,\" Brownie continued, referring to the Gardener's wife. \"We must hide before she sees us.\"\n\nThe children and Brownie quickly concealed themselves in the bushes, waiting anxiously for the Gardener's wife to pass by.\npeople should be served first, you know. Besides, I want to go to bed. Go to bed in the daylight! The children all laughed, and then looked quite shy and sorry, lest they might have seemed rude to the little Brownie. But he - he liked fun; and never took offense when none was meant. He placed himself on the milking stool, which was so high that his little legs were dangling halfway down, and milked and milked - Dolly standing as still as possible - till he had filled the whole pail. Most astonishing cow! She gave as much as two cows; and such delicious milk as it was - all frothing and yellow - richer than Dolly's milk had ever been before. The children's mouths watered for it, but not a word said they - even when, instead of giving it to them, Brownie put his own mouth to the pail, and drank and drank.\nBut it seemed as if he wouldn't stop drinking. However, it was a relief to them when he finally lifted his head up, and lo and behold, the pail was as full as ever!\n\n\"Now, little ones, it's your turn. Where are your mugs?\" All answered mournfully, \"We have none. Gardener made us take them back again.\"\n\n\"Never mind \u2014 all right. Gather me half a dozen of the biggest buttercups you can find.\"\n\nBrownie's mugs, THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE.\n\n\"What nonsense!\" thought the children, but they did it. Brownie laid the flowers in a row upon the eldest girl's lap \u2014 blew upon them one by one, and each turned into the most beautiful golden cup that ever was seen!\n\n\"Now, then, every one take his own mug, and I'll fill it.\"\n\nHe milked away \u2014 each child got a drink, and then the cups were filled again. And all.\nDolly stood quietly, looking benignly around as if ready to supply milk to the whole parish if desired. \"Soh, Dolly! Thank you, Dolly!\" the Gardener mimicked, half growling and coaxing. The real voice was heard behind the hedge. A great wasp-like sound made Dolly prick up her ears and look as if the old savageness was returning. The children snatched up their mugs, but there was no need as they had all turned into buttercups again. Gardener jumped over the stile, cross with an old rope in his hand. \"Oh, what a bother I've had! Breakfast ready, and no milk yet \u2013 and such a row over the lost ducklings. Stand still, Dolly!\"\n\"The creature's bewitched! or somebody has milked her dry already. Have you done it? or you?\" the Gardener asked each of the children. They knew Dolly had been milked, and they were the ones who had done it. \"Their mother had always taught them that to make a person believe a lie is a sin.\"\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie\n\n\"The creature's bewitched!\" the Gardener cried in a great fury. \"Or else somebody has milked her dry already. Have you done it? or you?\" he asked each of the children. They might have said no, which was the literal truth, but it wouldn't have been the whole truth, for they knew quite well that Dolly had been milked, and they were the ones who had done it. Their mother had always taught them that to make a person believe a lie is a sin.\nThe kind little Brownie was nearly as bad as telling him one. Yet they did not like to betray her. Greatly puzzled, they hung their heads and said nothing.\n\n\"Look in your pail again,\" cried a voice from the other side of Dolly. And there, at the bottom, was just the usual quantity of milk \u2014 no more and no less.\n\n\"The Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nThe Gardener was very much astonished. \"It must be the Brownie!\" he muttered in a frightened tone, and taking off his hat, \"Thank you, sir,\" he said to Mr. Nobody \u2014 at which the children all burst out laughing.\n\nBut they kept their own counsel, and he was afraid to ask them any more questions. By-and-by, his fright wore off a little. \"I only hope the milk is good milk and will not poison anybody,\" he said sulkily. \"However, that's not my affair. You children had better\"\nI. Tell your mother all about it. I left her in a pretty state of mind about her ducklings. Perhaps Brownie heard this and was sorry, for he liked the children's mother, who had always been kind to him. Besides, he never did anybody harm who did not deserve it; and, though being a Brownie, he could hardly be said to have a conscience, he had something which stood in its place \u2013 a liking to see people happy rather than miserable. So, instead of going to bed under his big coal, for the day; when, after breakfast, the children and their mother came out to look at a new brood of chickens, he crept after them and hid behind the hen-coop, where the old mother-hen was put, with her young ones round her. There had been great difficulty in getting her in there, for she was a hen who hatched her eggs in an unusual place.\nA brownie hatched her brood on independent principles. Instead of using the nice nest the Gardener made for her, she had twice gone into a little wood nearby and made a nest for herself, which nobody could ever find. There she hatched in secret, coming every second day to be fed, and then vanishing again, until at last she re-appeared in triumph, with her chickens running after her. The first brood had been twelve, but of this there were fourteen \u2014 all from her own eggs, and she was unusually proud of them. So was the Gardener, so was the mistress \u2014 who liked all young things. Such a picture they were! Fourteen soft, yellow, fluffy things, running about after their mother. It had been a most troublesome business to catch \u2014 first her, and then them, to put them under the coop.\nThe old hen resisted and pecked furiously at Gardener's legs. The chickens ran about in frantic terror, chirping wildly in answer to her clucking. At last, the little family was safe in shelter, and the chickens counted over to see that none had got lost in the scuffle. How funny they were! looking so innocent and yet so wise, as chickens do \u2014 peering out at the world from under their mother's wing, or hopping over her back, or snuggled all together under her breast, so that nothing was seen of them but a mass of yellow legs, like a great centipede.\n\n\"How happy the old hen is,\" said the children's mother, looking on, and then looking compassionately at that other forlorn old hen who had hatched the ducklings and kept wandering about the farm-yard, clucking miserably. \"What can have happened to those poor ducklings?\"\nHave you found out what happened to them? If rats had killed them, we should have found feathers or something; weasels would have sucked their blood and left them. They must have been stolen or wandered away and died of cold and hunger \u2013 my poor ducklings! The mistress sighed, unable to bear any living thing to suffer. And the children nearly cried at the thought of what might be happening to their pretty ducklings.\n\nA little wee brown face peered through a hole in the hen-coop, making the old mother-hen fly furiously at it \u2013 as she did at the slightest shadow of an enemy to her little ones. However, no harm happened \u2013 only a large, handsome guinea fowl suddenly ran across the farmyard, screaming in its usual harsh voice. But it was not the usual sort of guinea fowl.\n\"Oh, what a beauty of a creature! How did it ever come into our farm-yard?\" cried the delighted children, starting off after it to catch it if possible. But they ran, and they ran\u2014through the gate and out into the lane; and the guinea-fowl still ran on before them, until, turning round a corner, they lost sight of it and immediately saw something else, equally as curious. Sitting on the top of a big thistle\u2014so big that he must have had to climb it just like a tree\u2014was the Brownie. His legs were crossed, and his arms too; his little brown cap was stuck knowingly on one side, and he was laughing heartily.\n\nBrownie sat on a big thistle.\n\n\"How do you do? Here I am again. I thought I wouldn't go to bed after all. Shall I help you find the ducklings? Very well! Come along.\"\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\"How do you do? Here I am again. I thought I wouldn't go to bed after all. Shall I help you find the ducklings? Very well! Come along.\"\nThey crossed the field, Brownie running beside them, and as fast as they could, though he looked such an old man; and sometimes turning over on legs and arms like a wheel \u2013 which they tried to imitate, but generally failed, and only bruised their fingers and noses. He lured them on and on till they came to the wood, and to a green path in it, which, well as they knew the neighborhood, none of the children had ever seen before. It led to a most beautiful pond, as clear as crystal and as blue as the sky. Large trees grew round it, dipping their branches in the water, as if they were looking at themselves in a glass. And all about their roots were quantities of violets \u2013 the biggest violets the little girls had ever seen. Down they dropped on their fat knees, squashing down more violets than they could carry.\nThe smallest child gathered flowers, her hands full. The boys, older and more practical, despised violets. \"I thought we had come to look for ducklings,\" said the eldest. \"Mother is fretting dreadfully about her ducklings. Where can they be?\" \"Shut your eyes and you'll see,\" said the Brownie. They laughed but did as instructed. Upon opening their eyes, they beheld a whole fleet of ducklings sailing out from the roots of an old willow tree. \"Count them,\" said the Brownie.\nThe boys set to work with great satisfaction. They coaxed and shouted at them, throwing little sticks. But as soon as they wanted them to go one way, the fleet of ducklings immediately turned round and sailed another, doing it so deliberately and majestically that the children could not help laughing. Little Brownie sat on a branch of the willow-tree with his feet dangling down to the surface of the pond, kicking at water spiders and grinning with all his might. At length, quite tired out, in spite of their fun, the children begged for his help. \"Turn round three times and see what you can find,\" he shouted.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\nEach little boy and girl found in their arms a fine fat duckling. With eight of them in total, the older children each had a couple. They were cold and damp, and uncomfortable to cuddle, ducks not being used to it. Poor things struggled hard to get away. But the children hugged them tight and ran as fast as their legs could carry them through the woods, forgetting in their joy even to say \"Thank you\" to the little Brownie.\n\nWhen they reached their mother, she was as glad as they, for she never thought to see her ducklings again. And to have them back all alive and uninjured, and watch them running to the old hen who received them with such delight, was so exciting that nobody thought to ask a single question about where they had been found.\nWhen the mother asked, the children told her all about Brownies taking them to the beautiful pond and what a wonderful pond it was: how green the trees were around it, and how large the violets grew.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nThey never tired of talking about it and seeking for it. But the odd thing was that, no matter how hard they searched, they could not find it again.\n\nMany a day did the little people roam about, one by one, or all together, round the wood, and across the wood, and up and down the wood, often getting themselves sadly draggled with mud and torn with brambles. But the beautiful pond they never found again.\n\nNor did the ducklings, I suppose, for they wandered no more from the farmyard. They grew up into fat and respectable ducks\u2014five white ones and three grey ones\u2014waddling contentedly.\nThe little Brownie, not given to horsemanship, took a remarkable ride once. The six children received a long-desired present - a real pony, a Shetland pony that had traveled from the Shetland Isles to their home in Devonshire, England. Everyone marveled at this creature, as none had been seen in the neighborhood before.\n\nAdventure the Fourth. Brownie's Ride.\nFor years, she had lived in the woods. She was no bigger than a donkey, and her coat, instead of being smooth like a horse, was shaggy like a young Shetland pony's. She warmed her nose at the fire.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nShe had a long tail, which had never been cut, and such a deal of hair in her mane and over her eyes that it gave her quite a fierce countenance. In fact, among the wild and tame Devonshire beasts, the little Shetland pony looked almost like a wild animal. But in reality, she was the gentlest creature in the world.\n\nBefore she had been with them for many days, she began to know the children quite well; followed them about, ate corn out of the bowl they held out to her; nay, one day when the eldest little girl offered her bread-and-butter, she stooped her head and took it from the child's hand, just like a young lady.\nJess, indeed, was entirely lady-like in her behavior. More than once, Cook allowed her to enter the back door, where she warmed her nose at the kitchen fire for a minute or two before politely exiting again. But she never did any mischief and was so quiet and gentle that she was soon to become as great a pet in the household as the dog, the cat, the kittens, the puppies, the fowls, the ducks, the cow, and the pig, and all the other family members. The only one who disliked her and grumbled at her was the Gardener. This was odd, as the old man was kind to dumb beasts. Even his pig knew his voice and grunted and held out its nose to be scratched; and he always spoke kindly to the animals.\nThe person named each successive pig, Jack or Dick, and called them accordingly, showing affection towards them one after another, until the day they were killed.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nBut they were English pigs, and the pony was Scotch. The Devonshire Gardener disliked everything Scotch, he claimed, and was not accustomed to grooming work. The pony required a great deal of grooming due to her long hair.\n\nMore than once, Gardener threatened to clip her short and turn her into a regular English pony. But the children were distressed at this, so the mistress and mother forbade any such spoiling of Jess's personal appearance.\n\nTo maintain peace and avoid rough words and even blows that poor Jess sometimes received, they searched the village for a boy to look after her and found one.\nA great rough, shock-headed lad named Bill, for a dollar a week, consented to come every morning and learn the beginning of a groom's business. Hoping to end, as his mother said he should, in sitting, like the squire\u2019s fat coachman, broad as he was long, on the top of a grand carriage, and do nothing all day but drive a pair of stout horses a few miles along the road and back again.\n\nBill would have liked this very much, he thought, if he could have been a coachman all at once. For if there was one thing he disliked, it was work. He much preferred to lie in the sun all day and do nothing. But he agreed to come and take care of Jess because she was such a very little pony, and looking after her seemed next door to doing nothing. However, when he tried it, he found his mistake.\nJess was a very gentle beast, quiet even among the fowls. The old mother-hen with her fourteen chicks used to come regularly into the cow-shed's partitioned stable section and settle under a corner of Jess's manager for the night. In the morning, the chicks would run about fearlessly among her feet and under her nose. However, she required some management. Though she didn't scream like some children when her long hair was combed, she sometimes kicked and bounced about, causing Bill trouble \u2013 the more impatient Bill was, the more trouble she gave him. He also had to keep her within call.\nThe children wanted their pony at all hours. She was their own especial property, and they insisted upon learning to ride \u2013 even before they got a saddle. It was hard work to stick on Jess\u2019s bare back, but by degrees, the boys did it. They turned and turned about, and even gave their sisters a turn \u2013 a very little one \u2013 just once round the field and back again, which was quite enough, they considered, for girls. But they were very kind to their little sisters, held them on so that they couldn't fall, and led Jess carefully and quietly. Nor did they squabble very much among themselves, though sometimes it was rather difficult to keep their turns all fair and remember accurately which was which. But they did their best, being, on the whole, elder brothers should.\nThe children were extremely good and happy to have their pony. They would have been ashamed to quarrel over her. The Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nAn unusual thing kept them on their good behavior. Whenever they began to misconduct themselves - to want to ride out of turn, or order one another, or the boys trying to order around the girls, as I regret to say boys not seldom do - they heard in the air, right over their heads, the crack of an unseen whip. It was none of theirs; they had not got a whip, that was a prize which their father had promised them when they could all ride like young gentlemen and ladies. But there was no mistaking the sound - it always startled Jess so much that she set off galloping and could not be caught again for many minutes.\nThis happened several times, until one of them said, \"Perhaps it's the Brownie.\" Whether it was or not, it made them behave better for a good while, until one unfortunate day the two eldest began struggling as to which should ride foremost and which hindmost on Jess's back. When \"Crick-crack!\" went the whip in the air, frightening the pony so much that she kicked up her heels, tossed both the boys over her head, and scampered off, followed by a loud \"Ha, ha, ha!\" It certainly did not come from the two boys, who had fallen - quite safely, but rather unpleasantly - into a large nettle-bed. From where they crawled out, rubbing their arms and legs, and looking too ashamed to complain. But they were rather frightened and a little cross, for Jess took a skittish fit and refused to be caught and mounted again, till the bell rang.\nThe Adventures of a Brownie. Jess rang for school \u2013 when she grew as meek as possible. Too late \u2013 for the children were obliged to run indoors, and got no more rides for the whole day. Jess was supposed to be on the same friendly terms with Brownie as the rest of the household. Indeed, when she came, the children had taken care to lead her up to the coal-cellar door and introduce her properly \u2013 for they knew Brownie was very jealous of strangers, and often played them tricks. But after that piece of civility, they thought, he would be sure to take her under his protection. And sometimes, when the little Shetlander was restless and pricked up her ears, looking preternaturally wise under those shaggy brows of hers, the children used to say to one another, \u201cPerhaps she sees the Brownie.\u201d Whether she did or not, Jess sometimes...\nThe Adventures of a Brownie. A favorite with the children and family, the Brownie grew and thrived, transforming from the rough, shaggy, half-starved little beast that had arrived a few weeks prior. Her coat became silky, her limbs graceful, and her head full of intelligence, earning admiration from everyone. Gardener even admired her, remarking, \"I think I'll get upon her back; it will save me walking down to the village.\" And she carried him, though his feet nearly touched the ground, making it appear as if the man were carrying the pony rather than vice versa. The children laughed immoderately, causing him to never try it again.\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nNor Bill nor, though he had once thought he should like a ride and got astride on Jess; but she quickly ducked her head down, and he tumbled over it. Evidently she had her own tastes as to her riders, and much preferred little people to big ones.\n\nPretty Jess! When cantering round the paddock with the young folk, she really was quite a picture. And when at last she got a saddle\u2014a new, beautiful saddle, with a pommel to take off and on, so as to suit both boys and girls\u2014how proud they all were, Jess included!\n\nThat day they were allowed to take her into the market-town\u2014Gardener leading her, as Bill could not be trusted\u2014and everybody, even the blacksmith, who hoped by-and-by to have the pleasure of shoeing her, said, what a beautiful pony she was.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\nAfter this, Gardener treated Jess better and showed Bill how to groom her, keeping him close at it as well, which Bill did not like at all. He was a very lazy lad, and when he could shirk work, he did. Many a time when the children wanted Jess, either there was nobody to saddle her or she had not been properly groomed, or Bill was away at his dinner, and they had to wait till he came back and could put her in order to be taken out for a ride like a genteel animal \u2014 which I am afraid neither pony nor children enjoyed half as much as the old ways before Bill came. Still, they were gradually becoming excellent little horsemen and horsewomen \u2014 even the youngest, only four years old, whom all the rest were very tender over, and who was often held on Jess's back and given a ride out.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\nThe only trouble was Bill, who never came to his work on time and never did things when wanted. He was ill- natured, lazy, and cross to the children, so they disliked him very much.\n\n\"I wish the Brownie would punish you,\" said one of the boys.\n\n\"The Brownie!\" cried Bill contemptuously. \"If I caught him, I'd kick him up in the air like this!\"\n\nAnd he kicked up his cap, which flew right up, ever so high, and lodged at the very top of a tree that overhung the stable.\n\n[The Adventures of a Brownie.]\nFor weeks, poor Bill had to go bareheaded, causing him much vexation. He took revenge by vexing the children in various ways. They would have told their mother and asked her to send Bill away if not for her many anxieties. Their dear old grandmother was very ill, and they didn't want to make a fuss about anything that would trouble her. So Bill stayed on, and no one discovered his bad, ill-natured, lazy ways.\n\nBut one day, the mother was suddenly called away, unsure when she would be able to return. She was sad, and so were the children, who loved their grandmother dearly. As the carriage drove off, they all cried around the front door for a long time. The servants cried too \u2013 all but Bill.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good,\" he said. \"What a jolly time I shall have. I'll do nothing all day long. Those troublesome children shan't have Jess to ride; I'll keep her in the stable, and then she won't get dirty, and I shall have no trouble cleaning her. Hurrah! what fun!\" He put his hands in his pockets and sat whistling the best part of the afternoon.\n\nThe children had been so unhappy that for that day they quite forgot Jess; but next morning, after lessons were over, they came begging for a ride.\n\n\"You can't get one. The stable-door's locked, and I've lost the key,\" he said.\n\n\"How is poor Jess to get her dinner?\" cried a thoughtful little girl. \"Oh, how hungry she will be!\"\n\nAnd the child was quite in distress, as were the two other girls. But the boys were unfazed.\nIt was very stupid of you, Bill, to lose the key. Look about and find it, or else break open the door.\n\n\"I won't,\" said Bill; \"I dare say the key will turn up before night, and if it doesn't, who cares? You get riding enough and too much. I'll not bother myself about it, nor Jess either.\"\n\nAnd Bill sauntered away. He was a big fellow, and the little lads were rather afraid of him. But as he walked, he could not keep his hand out of his pants pocket, where the key felt growing heavier and heavier, till he expected it every minute to tumble through and come out at his boots \u2014 convicting him before all the children of having told a lie.\n\nNobody was in the habit of telling lies to them, so they never suspected him, but went innocently searching about for the key \u2014 Bill.\nBut every time he touched it, he felt his fingers pinched, as if there was a cockroach or a little lobster in his pocket, or something with claws. At last, fairly frightened, he made an excuse to go into the cow-shed, took the key out of his pocket and looked at it, and finally hid it in a corner of the manger, among the hay. As he did so, he heard an extraordinary laugh, which was certainly not from Dolly the cow, and, as he went out of the shed, he felt the same sort of pinch at his ankles. But Jess, who, as soon as she heard the children's voices, had set up a most melancholy whinnying behind the locked stable-door, - The Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nHe kept striking with his whip in all directions, but hit nobody, for nobody was there. But Jess...\nBill began to neigh energetically. And Boxer barked, the hens cackled, and the guinea-fowls cried \"Come back, come back!\" in their usual insane fashion \u2013 indeed, the whole farmyard seemed in such an excited state that the children got frightened and ran away, leaving Bill master of the field.\n\nWhat an idle day he had! He sat on the wall with his hands in his pockets and lounged upon the fence, sauntering round the garden. At length, absolutely tired of doing nothing, he went and talked with Gardener's wife while she was hanging out her clothes.\n\nGardener had gone down to the lower field with all the little folks after him, so he knew nothing of Bill's idling, or it might have come to an end.\n\nBy-and-by, Bill thought it was time to go.\nBill went home to supper. \"But first, I'll give Jess double corn,\" he said. \"Then I won't have to come back so early in the morning to give her breakfast. Soh! You greedy beast! I'll be with you presently if you don't stop that noise.\"\n\nFor Jess, at the sound of his footsteps, was heard to whinny in the most imploring manner, enough to melt a heart of stone.\n\n\"The key \u2014 where on earth did I put it?\" Bill cried, whose constant habit was to lay things out of his hand and then forget where he had put them, causing himself endless loss of time in searching for them \u2014 as now. At last, he suddenly remembered the corner of the cow's manger, where he felt sure he had left it. But the key was not there.\n\n\"You can't have eaten it, you silly old cow,\" Bill said, striking old Dolly on the nose.\nShe rubbed herself against him; she was an affectionate beast. \"Nor you, you stupid hen!\" Kicking the mother of the brood, who with her fourteen chicks, being shut out of her usual roosting-place - Jess's stable - kept pecking about under Dolly's legs. \"It can't have gone without hands - of course it can't.\" But most certainly the key was gone. What in the world should Bill do? Jess kept on making a pitiful complaining. No wonder, as she had tasted no food since morning. It would have made any kind-hearted person quite sad to hear her, thinking how exceedingly hungry the poor pony must be. Little did Bill care for that, or for anything, except to be sure to get into trouble as soon as he was found out. When he heard Gardener coming into the farmyard with the children after him, Bill\nbolted over the wall like a flash of lightning and ran away home, leaving poor Jess to her fate. All the way he seemed to hear at his heels a little dog yelping, and then a swarm of gnats buzzing round his head. Perplexed and bewildered, when he got into his mother's cottage, he escaped into bed and pulled the blanket over his ears to shut out the noise of the dogs and the gnats, which at last turned into a sound like somebody laughing. It was not his mother; she didn't often laugh, poor soul! \u2014 Bill bothered her quite too much for that, and he knew it. Dreadfully frightened, he hid his head under the bed-clothes, determined to go to sleep and think about nothing till next day. Meanwhile Gardener returned, with all the little people trooping after him. He had been\nThis day, rather kind to them, because their mother had gone away in trouble, he let them help roll gravel and fetch Dolly to be milked, and watch him milk her in the cow-shed \u2013 where, it being nearly winter, she always spent the night now. They were so well amused that they forgot all about their disappointment as to the ride, and Jess did not remind them of it by her whinnying. For as soon as Bill was gone, she grew quite silent.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nAt last, one little girl, the one who had cried over Jess's being left hungry, remembered the poor pony and, peeping through a crevice in the cow-shed, saw her standing contentedly munching at a large bowlful of corn.\n\n\"So Bill found the key. I'm so glad,\" thought the kind little maiden, and to make sure looked again.\nShe beheld something squatting on the manger. It was either a large brown rat or a small brown man. But she held her tongue, since, being a very little girl, people sometimes laughed at her for the strange things she saw. She was quite certain she did see them, for all that.\n\nSo she and the rest of the children went indoors and to bed.\n\nWhen they were fast asleep, something happened. Something so curious, that the youngest boy, who, thinking he heard Jess neighing, got up to look, was afraid to tell, lest he too should be laughed at, and went back to bed immediately.\n\nIn the middle of the night, a little old brown man, carrying a lantern, or at least carrying a light in his hand that looked like a lantern, went and unlocked Jess\u2019s stable, and patted her pretty head. At first she started.\nHe grew quiet and pleased, letting him do as he chose with her. He began rubbing her down, making the same funny hissing sound with his mouth that Bill and all grooms do. Jess seemed to like it and stood as still as possible.\n\n\"Isn't it nice to be clean?\" the wee man asked, speaking to her as if she were a human or a Brownie. \"And I dare say your Brownie goes for a ride. Poor little legs must ache from standing still so long. Shall we have a run together? The moon shines bright in the clear, cold night. Dear me! I'm talking poetry.\"\n\nBut Brownies are not poetical fairies; they are commonplace and up to all sorts of work. So, while he talked, he saddled and bridled Jess, and she didn't object at all. Finally, he jumped on her back.\n\"\u2018Off, said the stranger \u2014 off, off, and away!\u2019 sang the Brownie, mimicking a song of the Cook. People in that house often heard their songs repeated in the oddest way, from room to room, every body thinking it was somebody else that did it. But it was only the Brownie.\n\n\"\u2018Now, a southerly wind and a cloudy sky proclaim it a hunting morning!\u2019 Or night \u2014 for it was the middle of the night, though bright as day \u2014 and Jess galloped, and the Brownie sat on her back as merrily as if they had gone hunting together all their days.\n\n\"Such a chase it was! They cleared the farm-yard at a single bound and went flying down the road, and across the ploughed field, and into the wood. Then into the open country, and by-and-by into a dark, muddy lane \u2014 and oh! how muddy English lanes can be sometimes!\"\n\"Let's go into the water and wash ourselves,\" said Brownie, coaxing Jess into a deep stream. She swam bravely - she hadn't had such a frolic since leaving her native Shetland Isles. Upon the bank, she scrambled, her long hair dripping as if she had been a water-dog instead of a pony. Brownie shook himself like a rat or a beaver, throwing a shower round him in all directions.\n\n\"Never mind; at it again, my lass!\" He urged Jess into the water once more. Out she came, wetter and brisker than ever, and went back home through the lane, the wood, and the ploughed field, galloping like the wind. She tossed back her ears, mane, and tail, perfectly frantic with enjoyment.\n\nBut when she reached the stable, her plight would have driven any respectable groom frantic too. Her sides were covered in mud.\nWhite with foam, and the mud stuck all over her like plaster. Her beautiful long hair was caked together in a tangle, as if all the combs in the world would never make it smooth again. Her mane was plaited into knots, which people in Devonshire call elf-locks, and say, when they find them on their horses, that the fairies have been riding them. Certainly, poor Jess had been well ridden that night! When, just as the dawn began to break, Gardener looked into the farmyard and his sharp eye caught sight of the stable door, wide open.\n\n\"Well done, Bill,\" he shouted, \"up early at last. One hour before breakfast is worth three after.\"\n\nBut no Bill was there; only Jess, trembling and shaking, all in a foam, and muddy from head to foot, but looking perfectly cheerful.\nAnd from under her fore legs ran a small creature, which Gardener mistook for Tiny. Only Tiny was gray, and this dog was brown. I should not like to tell you all that was. said to Bill when, an hour after breakfast time, he came skulking up to the farm. In fact, words failing, Gardener took a good stick and laid it about Bill's shoulders, saying he would either do this, or tell the mistress of him, and how he had left the stable-door open all night, and some bad fellow had stolen Jess, and galloped her all across the country. If she hadn't been the cleverest pony in the world, she never could have got back again. Bill dared not contradict this explanation of the story, especially as the key was found hanging up in its proper place by the kitchen door. And when he went to get it, he heard.\nThe most extraordinary sound in the coal-cellar nearby - like somebody snoring or laughing. Bill took to his heels; he didn't return for an hour.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nBut when he did come back, he made himself as busy as possible. He cleaned Jess, which was half a day's work at least. Then he took the little people for a ride, and afterward put his stable in the most beautiful order. Bill was such a changed boy that Gardener told him he must have left himself at home and brought back somebody else; whether or not, the boy certainly improved, and there was less occasion to find fault with him afterward.\n\nJess lived to be quite an old pony and carried a great many people - always little people, for she herself never grew any bigger. But I don't think she ever carried a Brownie again.\n\nAdventure the Fifth.\nWinter was a grand time with the six little children, especially when they had frost and snow. This happened seldom enough for it to be the greatest possible treat when it did; and it never lasted very long, for the winters are warm in Devonshire. There was a little lake three fields off, which made the most splendid sliding-place imaginable. No skaters went near it \u2014 it was not large enough; and besides, there was nobody to skate, the neighborhood being lonely. The lake itself looked the loneliest place imaginable. It was not very deep \u2014 not deep enough to drown a man \u2014 but it had a gravelly bottom, and was always very clear. The trees round it grew so thick that they sheltered it completely from the wind; so, when it did freeze, it generally froze as smooth as glass.\n\nBrownie on the ice.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\nThe eldest boy ran in with great delight. \"Mother, the ice on the lake bears weight! We can go sliding if we want, all day long.\"\n\n\"Who says so?\"\n\n\"Bill. He's been on it an hour this morning and has made us two beautiful slides.\"\nThe mother hesitated. \"You promised, you know,\" pleaded the children. \"Very well, then; only be careful.\" \"And may we slide all day long, and never come home for dinner or anything?\" \"Yes, if you like. Only Gardener must go with you and stay all day.\" This they did not like at all; nor, when Gardener was spoken to, did he. \"You're bothering children! I wish you all may get a good ducking into the lake! Serve you right for making me lose a day's work, just to look after you little monkeys.\" But he did not say it, being fond of his mistress. He was also fond of his work, but he had no notion of play. I think the saying is, \"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.\"\nmust have been applied to him, for Gardener, whatever he had been as a boy, was certainly a dull and melancholy man. The children used to say that if he and idle Bill could have been kneaded into one and baked in the oven \u2014 a very warm oven \u2014 they would have come out rather a pleasant person. As it was, Gardener was anything but a pleasant person; above all, to spend a long day with, and on the ice, where one needs all one\u2019s cheerfulness and good-humor to bear pinched fingers and numbed toes, and trips and tumbles, and various uncomfortablenesses.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019ll growl at us all day long \u2014 he\u2019ll be a regular spoilsport!\u201d lamented the children.\n\n\u201cOh! mother, mightn\u2019t we go alone?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d said the mother, and her \u201cNo\u201d meant no, though she was always very kind.\n\nThey argued the point no more, but started off, rather downhearted.\nBut they quickly regained their spirits, for it was a bright, clear, frosty day \u2014 the sun shining, though not enough to melt the ice, and just sufficient to lie like a thin sprinkling over the grass, and turn the brown branches into white ones. The little people danced along to keep themselves warm, carrying between them a basket which held their lunch. A very harmless lunch it was \u2014 just a large brown loaf and a lump of cheese and a knife to cut it with. Tossing the basket about in their fun, they managed to tumble the knife out, and were having a search for it in the long grass when Gardener came up, grumpily enough.\n\n\"To think of trusting you children with one of the table-knives and a basket! What a fool Cook must be! I'll tell her so; and if they're lost, she'll blame me; give me the things.\"\nHe put the knife angrily in one pocket. \"Perhaps it will cut a hole in it,\" said one of the children, in rather a pleased tone than otherwise. He turned all the lunch on the grass and crammed it in the other pocket, hiding the basket behind a hedge. \"I'm sure I won't be at the trouble of carrying it,\" he said, when the children cried out at this. \"And you shan't carry it either, for you'll knock it about and spoil it. And as for your lunch getting warm in my pocket, why, so much the better this cold day.\"\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nIt was not a lively joke, and they knew his pocket was very dirty. Indeed, the little girls had seen him stuff a dead rat into it only the day before. They looked ready to cry; but there was no help for them, except going back and complaining to their mother, and they did not like to do that.\nThey knew that Gardener was cross but trustworthy, and she would never let them go to the lake without him. So they followed him, trying to be good, though it was difficult work. One of them proposed pelting him with snowballs, as they pelted each other. But at the first one, which fell in his neck, he turned round so furiously that they never sent a second, but walked behind him as meek as mice.\n\nAs they went, they heard little steps pattering after them.\n\n\"Perhaps it is the Brownie coming to play with us \u2013 I wish he would,\" whispered the youngest girl to the eldest boy, whose hand she generally held; and then the little pattering steps sounded again, traveling through the snow, but they saw nobody \u2013 so they said nothing.\n\nThe children would have liked to go further.\nThe two old men straight to the ice but Gardener insisted on taking them a mile round, to look at an extraordinary animal a farmer there had just got - sent by his brother in Australia. The two old men stood gossiping so long that the children wore extremely. Every minute seemed an hour till they got on the ice. At last one of them pulled Gardener's coat-tails and whispered that they were quite ready to go.\n\n\"Then I'm not,\" and he waited ever so much longer, and got a drink of hot cider which made him quite lively for a little while. But by the time they reached the lake, he was as cross as ever. He struck the ice with his stick, but made no attempt to see if it really did bear - though he would not allow the children to go one step upon it till he had tried.\n\n\"I know it doesn't bear, and you'll just have to wait.\"\nhave to go home again \u2014 a good thing too \u2014 saves me from losing a day\u2019s work.\n\"Try, only try; Bill said it bore,\" implored the boys, and looked wistfully at the two beautiful slides \u2014 just as Bill said, one up and one down \u2014 stretching all across the lake. \"Of course it bears, or Bill could not have made these slides.\"\n\"Bill's a fool!\" said the Gardener, and put his heavy foot cautiously on the ice. Then there was seen jumping across it a creature which certainly had never been seen on the ice before. It made the most extraordinary bounds on its long hind legs, with its little fore legs tucked up in front of it as if it wanted to carry a muff; and its long, stiff tail sticking out straight behind, to balance itself with, apparently.\nThe children at first started with surprise,\n\n(Note: The text appears to be in good condition and does not require extensive cleaning. Only minor corrections for formatting and OCR errors have been made.)\n\"and burst out laughing, for it was the funniest creature they had ever seen in their lives. \"It's the kangaroo!\" cried Gardener in great excitement. \"It has got loose and is sure to be lost. And what a way Mr. Giles will be in! I must go and tell him.\" But in vain \u2014 it darted across the ice, dodging him; once coming so close that he nearly caught it by the tail \u2014 to the children's great delight \u2014 then it vanished entirely. \"I must go and tell Mr. Giles directly,\" said Gardener, and then stopped. He had promised not to leave the children, and it was such a wild-goose chase, after an escaped kangaroo. But he might get half a crown.\"\nas a reward and he was sure of another glass of cider.\n\"You just stop quiet here, and I'll be back in five minutes,\" he said to the children.\n\"You may go a little way on the ice \u2014 I think it's sound enough; only mind you don't tumble in, for there'll be nobody to pull you out.\"\n\"Oh no,\" said the children, clapping their hands. They did not care for tumbling in and were quite glad there was nobody there to pull them out.\nTHE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE.\nHe had taken their lunch in his pocket as well.\n\"Never mind \u2014 we're not hungry yet. Now for a slide.\"\nOff they darted, the three elder boys, with a good run; the biggest of the girls followed after them; and soon the whole four were sliding.\nskimming one after the other as fast as a railway train, across the slippery ice. And, like a railway train, they had a collision, and all came tumbling one over the other, with great screaming and laughter, to the high bank on the other side. The two younger ones stood mournfully watching the others from the opposite bank. When there stood beside them a small brown man.\n\n\"Ho-ho! little people,\" said he, coming between them and taking hold of a hand of each. His was so warm and theirs so cold, that it was quite comfortable. And then, somehow, they found in their open mouths, a nice lozenge \u2013 I think it was peppermint, but am not sure; which comforted them still more.\n\n\"Did you want me to play with you?\" cried the Brownie; \"then here I am! What shall we do? Have a turn on the ice together?\"\nThe two little children felt themselves floating along - it was more like floating than running - with Brownie between them; up the lake, and down the lake, and across the lake, not at all interfering with the sliders. Rosy and her sister were breathless, their toes nice and warm, and their hands feeling like mince pies just taken out of the oven. The elder ones stopped their sliding and looked toward Brownie with entreating eyes. He swung himself up to a willow bough and then turned head over heels onto the ice.\n\n\"Hello! You don't mean to say you big ones want a race too! Well, come along - if the two eldest will give a slide to the little ones.\"\n\nHe watched them take a tiny sister.\nbetween them and slide her up one slide and down another, screaming with delight. Then he took the two middle children in either hand. \"One, two, three, and away!\" Off they started \u2014 scudding along as light as feathers and as fast as steam-engines, over the smooth, blue ice. So clear that they could see the bits of stick and water-grasses frozen in it, and even the little fishes swimming far down below \u2014 if they had only looked long enough. When all had had their fair turns, they began to be frightfully hungry. \"Catch a fish for dinner, and I'll lend you a hook,\" said Brownie. At which they all laughed, and then looked rather grave. Pulling a cold, raw, live fish from under the ice and eating it is not a pleasant idea of dinner. \"Well, what would you like to have? Let the little one choose.\"\nShe said, after thinking a minute, that she should like a currant cake. \"And I'd give you all a bit of it \u2014 a very large bit \u2014 I would indeed!\" added she, almost with tears in her eyes \u2014 she was very hungry.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\n\"Do it, then!\" said the Brownie, in his little squealing voice.\n\nImmediately the stone that the little girl was sitting on \u2014 a round, hard stone, and so cold! \u2014 turned into a nice hot cake \u2014 so hot that she jumped up directly. As soon as she saw what it was, she clapped her hands for joy.\n\n\"Oh, what a beautiful, beautiful cake! But we haven't got a knife to cut it.\"\n\nThe boys felt in all their pockets, but somehow their knives never were there when they were wanted.\n\n\"Look!\" said Brownie to the little one; and that minute a bit of stick she held turned into a bread-knife.\nA silver knife with an ivory handle - big and sharp, but not too sharp. The youngest girl wasn't allowed sharp knives, despite her fondness for cutting, particularly cakes.\n\n\"That will do. Sit down and carve the dinner. Fair shares, and don't let anyone eat too much. Now begin, ma'am,\" said the Brownie politely.\n\nOh, how proud the little girl was! She set to work bravely, cutting five of the biggest slices ever seen, and gave them to her brothers and sisters. She was just about to take the sixth slice for herself when she remembered the Brownie.\n\n\"I beg your pardon,\" she said politely, though she was such a very little girl, and turned round to find the wee brown man nowhere to be seen. The slices of dinner remained unevenly divided.\nThe cake in the children's hands remained cake, and unusually good it was, providing substantial eating that nearly equaled dinner. But the cake itself turned suddenly to stone again, and the knife into a bit of stick. For there was the Gardener coming, clumping along by the bank of the lake, growling as he went.\n\n\"Have you got the kangaroo?\" the children shouted, determined to be civil, if possible.\n\n\"This place is bewitched, I think,\" he said. \"The kangaroo was fast asleep in the cow-shed. What! how dare you laugh at that?\" But they hadn't laughed at all. And they found it no laughing matter, poor children, when Gardener came on the ice and began to scold them and order them about.\n\nHe was perfectly savage with crossness; for the people at Giles\u2019s Farm had laughed at The Adventures of a Brownie.\nHe greatly disliked being laughed at, and at the top of the field, he had by chance encountered his mistress. She had sternly asked him how he could think of leaving the children alone. In total, his conscience troubled him quite a bit. And when people's consciences prick them, they sometimes get angry with others, which is very silly and only makes matters worse.\n\n\"What have you been doing all this time?\" he asked.\n\n\"All this five minutes?\" the eldest boy replied mischievously. For Gardener was only supposed to be away for five minutes, and he had stayed an hour. Additionally, when he rummaged in his pocket for the children's lunch \u2013 perhaps to quiet their tongues \u2013 he found it was not there. They raised a great outcry, for, despite the cake, they could have eaten a little more.\n\nIndeed, the frost had such an effect upon the scene.\n\"all their appetites were not unlike that celebrated gentleman, who is told to have eaten a cow, a calf, an ox, a half, a church, the steeple, the priest, and all the people, and said he hadn't had enough then. \"We're so hungry, so very hungry!\" they cried entreatingly. \"Couldn't you go back again and fetch us some dinner?\" \"Not I, indeed. You may go back to dinner yourselves. You shall, indeed, for I want my dinner, too. Two hours is plenty long enough to stop on the ice.\" \"It isn't two hours - it's only one.\" The Adventures of a Brownie. \"Well, one will do better than more. You're all right now - and you might soon tumble in, or break your legs on the slide. So come away home.\" It wasn't kind of Gardener, and I don't wonder the children felt it hard; indeed, they were.\"\nThe eldest boy resisted stoutly. \"Mother said we might stop all day, and we will stop all day. You may go home if you like.\" \"I won't, and you shall!\" said Gardener, smacking a whip he carried in his hand. \"Stop till I catch you, and I'll give you this about your back, my fine gentleman.\"\n\nHe tried to follow, but the little fellow darted across the ice, objecting to be either caught or whipped. It may have been rather naughty, but I am afraid it was great fun dodging the Gardener.\n\nGardener up and down; he being too timid to go on the slippery ice, and sometimes getting so close that the whip nearly touched the lad. \"Bless us! There's the kangaroo again!\" said he, starting. Just as he had caught the boy and lifted the whip, the creature was seen hopping from bank to bank. \"I can't.\"\nGardener reached the middle of the lake. The ice suddenly broke, and he fell in. The kangaroo also disappeared. Gardener made a great commotion, not because he was drowning - the lake was too shallow for that - but because he got terribly wet.\nHe soon scrambled out, the boys helping him. He hobbled home as fast as he could, not even saying thank you or taking notice of them. Nobody took any notice of them\u2014nobody came to fetch them, and they might have stayed sliding the whole afternoon. Only somehow they did not feel quite easy in their minds. And though the hole in the ice closed up immediately and it seemed as firm as ever, still they did not like to slide upon it again.\n\n\"I think we had better go home and tell mother everything,\" said one of them.\n\n\"Yes; but oh, how funny he looked!\" And they all burst out laughing at the recollection of the figure he cut, scrambling out.\nThe man emerged from the ice with pants dripping up to his knees and water running out of his boots, creating a little pool wherever he stepped. \"And it freezes so hard that by the time he gets home, his clothes will be as stiff as a board. His wife will have to put him near the fire to thaw before he can get out of them.\" The little people burst into shouts of laughter. Despite their laughter, they were a little sorry for poor old Gardener and hoped no great harm had come to him but that he had gotten home safely and been dried by his own warm fire. The frosty mist was beginning to rise, and the sun, though still high in the sky, looked like a ball of red-hot iron as the six children went home across the fields - merry enough still, but not quite so merry as they had been a few hours before.\n\"Let's hope mother won't be vexed with us, but will let us come back tomorrow. It wasn't our fault that Gardener tumbled in. As somebody said this, they all heard quite distinctly, \"Ha, ha, ha!\" and \"Ho, ho, ho!\" and a sound of little steps pattering behind. But nobody ventured to say that it was the fault of the Brownie.\n\nADVENTURE THE SIXTH AND LAST.\nBROWNIE AND THE CLOTHES.\n\nTill the next time; but when there is a Brownie in the house, no one can say that any of his tricks will be the last. For there's no stopping a Brownie, and no getting rid of him either.\n\nThis one had followed the family from house to house, generation after generation\u2014never any older, and sometimes seeming even to grow younger, by the tricks he played. In fact, though he looked like an old man, he was a perpetual child.\"\nTo the children he did no harm, quite the contrary. And his chief misdoings were against those who vexed the children. But he gradually made friends with several of his grown-up enemies. Cook, for instance, who had ceased to be lazy at night and late in the morning, found no more black foot-marks on her white tablecloth. And Brownie found his basin of milk waiting for him, night after night, behind the coal-cellar door. Bill, too, got on well enough with his pony, and Jess was taken no more night-rides. No ducks were lost, and Dolly gave her milk quite comfortably to whoever milked her. Alas! this was either Bill or the Gardener's wife now. After that adventure on the ice, poor Gardener very seldom appeared; when he did, it was on two crutches, for he had had rheumatism in his feet, and could not stir.\nBill worked outside his cottage door, as he had double the duties since the garden required less attention during winter. Brownie seldom ventured into the garden but preferred staying in his coal-cellar, which was warm and cozy. He had company there as well; when the cat had more kittens, they were put in a basket in the coal-cellar, and on cold nights, Brownie would join them, keeping warm and cosy. The little kittens never mewed, suggesting they enjoyed his company. The old mother-cat tolerated him.\nOne thing you can be sure of \u2014 while she and her kittens were in his coal-cellar, he took care never to turn himself into a mouse. He spent the winter comfortably, without much trouble to himself or his neighbors. One day, the coal-cellar being nearly empty, two men and a great wagon-load of coals came to the door, Gardener's wife following.\n\n\"My man says you're to give the cellar a good cleaning out before you put any more in,\" she said in her sharp voice. \"Don't be lazy about it. It'll not take you ten minutes, for it's nearly all coal-dust, except that one big lump in the corner \u2014 you might clear that out too.\"\n\"The little scullery maid whispered, \"Stop, it's the Brownie's lump!\" Don't meddle with matters that can't concern you,\" said the Gardener's wife. She had been considering how helpful it would be to her fire. It wasn't her lump of coal, but she thought she might take it; the mistress would never miss it, or the Brownie either. He must be a very silly old Brownie to live under a lump of coal. So she argued with herself and made the men lift it. \"You must lift it, you see, if you are to sweep the coal-cellar out clean. And you may as well put it on the barrow, and I'll wheel it out of your way,\" she said in a civil tone, lest they should tell on her. It was done without anything happening, except that a large rat scurried away.\"\nA woman ran out of the coal-cellar, the door bouncing against her feet and frightening her so much that she nearly tumbled down.\n\n\"See what nonsense it is to talk of Brownies living in a coal-cellar. Nothing lives there but rats, and I\u2019ll have them poisoned pretty soon and get rid of them.\" But she was still frightened, for the rat had been such a large rat and had looked at her with such wild, bright, mischievous eyes \u2013 brown eyes, of course \u2013 that she all but jumped with surprise. However, she had gotten her lump of coal and was wheeling it quietly away, nobody seeing, to her cottage at the bottom of the garden. She was a hard-worked woman, and her husband's illness made things harder for her. Still, she was not quite easy at taking what did not belong to her.\n\"I don't suppose anyone will miss the coal,\" she repeated. \"I dare say the mistress would have given it to me if I had asked her. THE ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE. And as for its being the Brownie's lump^ fudge! Bless us! what's that?\" The barrow began to creak dreadfully, and every creak sounded like the cry of a child, as if the wheel were going over its leg and crushing its poor little bones. \"What a horrid noise! I must grease the barrow. If only I knew where they keep the grease-box. All goes wrong, now my old man's laid up. Oh, dear! oh, dear!\" Suddenly, the barrow tilted over, though there was not a single stone near, and the big coal was tumbled onto the ground, where it broke into a thousand pieces. Gathering it up again was hopeless, and it made such a mess on the gravel-walk, that the mistress would not be pleased.\"\nAn old woman was thankful that her misfortune happened behind the hedge, where nobody was likely to come.\n\n\"I'll take a broom and sweep it up tomorrow. Nobody goes near the orchard now, except me when I hang out the clothes. So I need say nothing about it to the old man or anyone. But ah, dearly me, what a beautiful lot of coal I've lost!\"\n\nShe stood and looked at it mournfully, then went into her cottage where she found two or three of the little children keeping Gardener company. They did not dislike doing this now; but he was so much kinder than he used to be - so quiet and patient, though he suffered very much. And he had never once reproached them for what they always remembered - that it was ever since he was on the ice with them that he had got the rheumatism.\n\nSo, one or other of them made a point of keeping him company.\nThe Adventures of a Brownie: going every day to see him and telling him the funny things they could think of. It was a contest among them to make Gardener laugh. They did not exactly succeed in doing that, but they managed to make him smile. He was always gentle and grateful to them. Sometimes they thought it was rather nice that he was ill. But his wife was not pleasant. She grumbled all day long and snapped at him and his visitors, being especially snappish this day because she had lost her big coal.\n\n\"I can't have you children come bothering here,\" she said crossly. \"I want to wring out my clothes and hang them to dry. Be off with you!\" \"Let us stop a little - just to tell Gardener this one curious thing about Dolly and the pig - and then we\u2019ll help you take them.\"\nThe woman wished to keep her clothes in the orchard. We can carry your basket between us. \"Thank you, young gentlemen,\" she said politely. \"But indeed, the basket is too heavy for you. However, you may stop and gossip a little longer with my old man. He likes it.\" While they were shut up with the Gardener in his bedroom, she went carrying the basket on her head and hung her clothes carefully out - the big things on lines between them.\nThe fruit trees and little things, such as stockings and pocket-handkerchiefs, were attached to the berry bushes or spread on the clean green grass.\n\n\"Such a fine day as it is! They'll dry directly,\" she said cheerfully to herself. \"Plenty of sun, and not a breath of wind to blow them about. I'll leave them for an hour or two and come and get them before it grows dark. Then I shall get all my folding done by bedtime, and have a clear day for ironing tomorrow.\"\n\nBut when she did bring them in, having bundled them all together in the dusk of the evening, never were such clothes! They were all twisted in the oddest way\u2014the stockings turned inside out, with the heels and toes tucked into the legs; the sleeves of the shirts tied together in double knots, the pocket-handkerchiefs made into rags.\n\"The Adventures of a Brownie. Round balls, so tight that if you had pelted a person with them, they would have given very hard blows indeed. And the whole looked as if, instead of lying quietly on the grass and bushes, they had been dragged through heaps of mud and then stomped upon, so that there was not a clean inch upon them from end to end.\n\n\"What a horrid mess!\" cried the gardener's wife, who had been at first very angry, and then very frightened. \"But I know what it is; that nasty Boxer has got loose again. It's he that has done it.\"\n\n\"Boxer wouldn't tie shirt-sleeves in double knots, or make balls of pocket-handkerchiefs,\" Gardener was heard to answer solemnly.\n\n\"Then it's those horrid children; they are always up to some mischief or other \u2014 just let me catch them!\"\n\n\"You'd better not,\" said somebody.\"\nThe voice was exactly like Gardener's, though he himself declared he had not spoken a word. Indeed, he was fast asleep. \"Well, it's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of,\" the Gardener's wife said, supposing she was talking to her husband all the time. But she soon held her tongue, for she found among the clothes here and there sorts of queer marks - marks of fingers, toes, and heels, not in mud at all, but in coal-dust, as black as black could be. As the place where the big coal had tumbled out of the barrow was fully fifty yards from the orchard, and as the coal could not come to the clothes and the clothes could not go without hands, the only conclusion she could arrive at was \u2014 well, no particular conclusion at all.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nIt was too late that night to begin washing again; besides, she was extremely tired.\nShe was tired and her husband woke up worse than usual, so she haphazardly bundled the clothes in a corner, put the kitchen to rights, and went mournfully to bed.\n\nThe next morning, she woke up before it was light, washed her clothes again, and since it was impossible to dry them by the fire, she went out with them and began spreading them out in their usual corner, in a hopeless and melancholic manner. While she was at it, the little folks came trooping around her. She didn't scold them this time, she was too low-spirited.\n\n\"No! My old man isn't any better, and I don't fancy he ever will be,\" she answered their questions. \"And everything's gone wrong with us \u2013 just listen!\" And she told them the trick that had been played on her about the clothes.\n\nThe little people tried not to laugh.\nThe clothes on the line were so funny. The minute she had hung them out, there was something droll in the way they blew about, without any wind. The shirts hung with their necks downward, as if a man was inside them. The drawers stood stiffly astride on the gooseberry-bushes, for all the world as if they held a pair of legs still. The gardener's night-caps - long, white cotton, with a tassel at the top - were alarming to look at, just like a head stuck on a pole. The whole thing was so peculiar, and the old woman so comical in her despair, that the children, after trying hard to keep it in, at last broke into shouts of laughter.\n\nShe turned furiously upon them. \"It was you who did it!\"\n\n\"No, indeed it wasn't!\" they said, jumping farther to escape her blows. For she was brandishing a broom.\nShe had obtained one of her clothes-props and was laying it about her in the most reckless manner. However, she hurt nobody. Suddenly, she burst out, not laughing, but crying. \"It's a cruel thing, whoever has done it, to play such tricks on a poor body like mine, with a sick husband that I work hard for, and not a child to help me. But I don't care. I'll wash my clothes again if it's twenty times over and I'll hang them out again in the very place, just to make you all ashamed of yourselves.\n\nPerhaps the little people were ashamed of themselves, though they really had not done the mischief. But they knew right well who had done it, and more than once they were about to tell; only they were afraid, if they did so, they should vex the Brownie so much that he would never come and play with them any more.\nThe Gardener's wife looked at the others without speaking. Once she had emptied her basket and dried her eyes, they said kindly to her, \"Perhaps no harm will come to your clothes this time. We'll sit and watch them till they are dry.\"\n\n\"As you like; I don't care. Those who hide can find, and those who play tricks know how to stop them,\" she replied. It was not a civil speech, but things were hard for the poor old woman. She had been awake nearly all night and up washing at daybreak; her eyes were red with crying, and her steps weary and slow.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nThe little children felt quite sorry for her and sat watching the clothes as patiently as possible instead of going to play. Nothing came near them. Sometimes, as before, the things seemed to dance about without hands and turn into odd shapes, as if playing tricks.\nThere were people inside them, but not a creature was seen, and not a sound was heard. And though there was neither wind nor sun, very soon all the linen was perfectly dry. Get one of mother's baskets, and we'll fold the clothes up as tidily as possible - the girls can do it, it's their business - and we boys will carry it safely to Gardeners cottage. So said they, not liking to say that they couldn't trust it out of their sight for fear of Brownie, whom, indeed, they were expecting to see peer round from every bush. They began to have a secret fear that he was rather a naughty Brownie; but then, as the eldest little girl whispered, \"He was only a Brownie, and knew no better.\" Now they were growing quite big children, who would be men and women some time. When they hoped they would never do this again.\nThe serious and careful boys folded up the clothes and laid them one by one in the basket without mischief. Just as they were lifting it to carry away, they felt something tugging at it from underneath.\n\n\"Hallo! Where are you taking all this rubbish? Better give it to me.\"\n\n\"No, if you please,\" said they, very civilly, not to offend the little brown man. \"We'll not trouble you, thanks! We'd rather do it ourselves. For poor old Gardener is very ill, and his wife is very miserable, and we are extremely sorry for them both.\"\n\n\"Extremely sorry!\" cried Brownie, throwing up his cap in the air and tumbling head over heels in an excited manner. \"What in the world does extremely sorry mean?\"\nThe children could not explain, especially to a Brownie, but they thought they understood\u2014anyhow, they felt it. And they looked so sorrowful that the Brownie could not tell what to make of it.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nHe could not be said to be sorry, since, being a Brownie, and not a human being, knowing right from wrong, he never tried particularly to do right, and had no idea when he was doing wrong. But he seemed to have an idea that he was troubling the children, and he never liked to see them look unhappy.\n\nSo he turned head over heels six times running, and then came back again.\n\n\"The silly old woman! I washed her clothes for her last night in a way she didn't expect. I hadn't any soap, so I used a little mud and coal-dust, and very pretty they looked. Ha, ha, ha! Shall I wash them over again to-night?\"\n\"Oh, no, please don't!\" implored the children.\n\n\"Shall I starch and iron them? I'll do it beautifully. One, two, three, five, six, seven, Abracadabra, turn-turn-ti!\" shouted he, jabbering all sorts of nonsense and playing such antics that they stood and stared in the utmost amazement, and quite forgot the clothes.\n\nWhen they looked round again, the basket was gone.\n\n\"Seek till you find, seek till you find,\nUnder the biggest gooseberry- bush, exactly to your mind.\"\n\nThey heard him singing this remarkable rhyme long after they had lost sight of him. And then they all set about searching; but it was a long while before they found, and still longer before they could decide which was the biggest gooseberry bush, each child having his or her opinion \u2014 sometimes a very different one.\nA strong one - on the matter.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nThey finally agreed to settle it by pulling half a dozen little sticks to see which stick was the longest, and the child that held it was to decide the gooseberry- bush.\n\nThis done, underneath the branches, they found the identical basket of clothes! However, instead of being roughly dried, they were all starched and ironed in the most beautiful manner.\n\nThe shirts were a picture to behold, and the stockings were all folded up and even darned in one or two places as neatly as possible. And strangely, there was not a single black mark of feet or fingers on any one of them.\n\n\"Kind little Brownie! Clever little Brownie!\" cried the children in chorus, thinking this was the most astonishing trick he had ever played.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\nWhat the Gardener's wife said about it, whether they told her anything or allowed her to suppose that the clothes had been done in their own laundry instead of the Brownie's (wherever that establishment might be), is more than I can tell. I am certain, however, that the little people said nothing but what was true. As soon as they got home, they told their mother everything. But for a long time after that, they were troubled. The Gardener got better and went hobbling about the place again, to everyone's great content, and his wife was less sharp-tongued and complaining than usual \u2014 indeed, she had nothing to complain about. All the family were very flourishing, except the little Brownie. Often, a curious sound could be heard all over the house; it might have been rats.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\"squeaking behind the wainscot \u2014 the elders said it was, but the children were sure it was a sort of weeping and wailing.\n\n\"They've stolen my coal,\nAnd I haven't a hole\nTo hide in;\nNot even a house\nOne could ask a mouse\nTo bide in.\"\n\nA most forlorn tune it was, ending in a dreary minor key, and it lasted for months and months \u2014 at least the children said it did. And they were growing quite dull for want of a playfellow, when, by the greatest good luck in the world, there came to the house not only a new lot of kittens but a new baby. And the new baby was everybody's pet, including the Brownie's.\n\nThe Adventures of a Brownie.\n\nFrom that time, though he was not often seen, he was continually heard up and down the staircase, where he was frequently mistaken for Tiny or the cat and sent sharply down again, which was wasting a great deal.\"\nThe Adventures of a Brownie:\n\nMr. Nobody provoked wholesome anger or lurked in odd corners of the nursery where the baby crawled eagerly after nothing in particular or sat laughing with all her might at something - probably her own toes. But Brownie was never seen, so he was never suspected. He did no misdeeds - neither pinched the baby nor broke toys, left no soap in the bath and no footprints about the room - but was always a well-conducted Brownie in every way. He was allowed to inhabit the nursery (or was supposed to do so, since nobody saw him), until the children grew up into men and women.\n\nAfter that, he retired into his coal-cellar, and for all I know, he may live there still, and have gone through hundreds of adventures since. But as I never heard them, I can't tell.\nI would like to be a child again and have a Brownie to play with. Wouldn't you?", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "date": "1930", "title": "Alternative exercises for use with College handbook of composition,", "creator": "Woolley, Edwin Campbell, 1878-1916. [from old catalog]", "lccn": "unk80016132", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST011886", "partner_shiptracking": "171GR", "call_number": "10469514", "identifier_bib": "00033425260", "lc_call_number": "PE1408 .W682", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "publisher": "Boston, New York [etc.] D. C. Heath and company", "description": "p. cm", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "19", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2019-12-20 17:13:38", "updatedate": "2019-12-20 18:11:30", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "identifier": "alternativeexerc00wool", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-12-20 18:11:33", "operator": "associate-annie-coates@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe1.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "54", "scandate": "20200109153112", "notes": "Title is on cover page.<br />", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-ronamye-cabale@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20200111112953", "republisher_time": "244", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/alternativeexerc00wool", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t4sj9sx2j", "scanfee": "300;12;240", "invoice": "36", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1155971710", "backup_location": "ia907009_27", "openlibrary_edition": "OL33057664M", "openlibrary_work": "OL24870192W", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "85", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1930, "content": "Exercise 1: Look up each of the following words in both an unabridged dictionary and an abridged one. Write a report showing how much more discriminatingly and clearly the larger volume explains the use of each word than the smaller one does: idealism, Bible, liberal, court, Christian, color, moral, law, evolution, catholic. State the exact title and the publisher of each of the dictionaries consulted.\n\nExercise 2\n(No text was provided for Exercise 2, so no cleaning is necessary.)\n1. She plays first-rate tennis. (adjective: first-rate - meaning excellent)\n2. We stopped at a nearby house to inquire. (verb: inquire - meaning to ask for information)\n3. She is doing uplifting work in the slums. (adjective: uplifting - meaning raising someone's spirits or improving a situation)\n4. He hopes to get a raise. (verb: hope - meaning to have a desire or expectation)\n5. I am going, provided the trip is not expensive. (adverb: provided - meaning on the condition that)\n6. Can you give me a recommendation? (verb: recommend - meaning to suggest or approve)\n7. I am studying voice. (noun: voice)\n8. Most everyone had heard the news. (verb: had heard - past tense of have)\n9. I cannot give that much money to the stadium fund. (verb: give - meaning to transfer something to someone)\n10. We are going to vacation in the West. (verb: going - present continuous tense, meaning currently in the process of doing something)\n11. He is making a go of it. (verb: making - present continuous tense, meaning to try to make something successful)\n12. He took a few deep inhales from the cigar. (verb: took - past tense of take, inhales - present participle of inhale)\n\nExercise 3:\nFind out from a dictionary which one of the following forms is correct:\n1. I dove or I dived. (Both \"dove\" and \"dived\" are the past tense of the verb \"dive.\")\n2. No trump was bid or no trump was bidden. (Both \"was bid\" and \"was bidden\" are past tense forms of the verb \"bid\" meaning to offer or propose.)\n3. It is proved or it is proven. (Both \"is proved\" and \"is proven\" are present tense forms of the verb \"prove\" meaning to establish as true.)\n4. I wakened. (The past tense of the verb \"wake\" is \"woke\" or \"waked,\" but \"wakened\" is an alternative past tense form that is less commonly used.)\nI woke or I woke up. I swung or I swung back and forth. He drowned or was drowned. The ship sank or went under. The dress shrank or shrunk in size. She wrung or wrangled with the clothes. I rang or made a ringing sound.\n\nUnabridged dictionaries are superior to abridged ones. Part of speech: Inflectional forms.\n\nAlternative Exercises:\n\nVerb: transitive or intransitive? Etymology, Good usage:\n\nExercise 4:\nLook up the following verbs in a dictionary. State whether each verb is transitive or intransitive, and illustrate the correct use of each verb: propose, purpose, sit, set, frighten, scare, learn, teach, isolate, derogate, desiccate, elicit, elide, simulate, ricochet, limn, synthesize, instigate, apprehend, envisage, castigate, interdict, genuflect, deploy, collude.\n\nExercise 5:\nHow may the etymologies given by the dictionary help?\nIncarnation, egregious, cruciform, umbrageous, entrepreneur, risibility, legerdemain, denouement, metempsychosis, agnostic, contiguous, incunabula, swallow-tail (evening coat), cinch, hired girl, babe, bogus, varsity, swain, whilst, sport (a person), walk-out (noun), nifty, highbrow, josh, come across, get by, put one over on, get it across, renig, pants (clothing), oft-times, brainy, clean up (to make money), depot (railway station), dope (information), electrocute, fix up, galore, foot the bill, gent, lief, a whole lot, minus.\n1. Put the book there.\n2. John is a likely lad.\n3. I cannot say I am glad to go.\n4. All are glad of the return to normalcy.\n5. Fit back in an hour.\n6. We had pretty cold weather.\n7. This is as far as I can go.\n8. When I was a boy on the farm, I devoted most of my efforts to taking care of the cows and pigs.\n9. You resemble your father.\n10. Immediately you hear him call, you must run to him.\n11. There were lots of people at the meeting.\n12. She got a good fit on your coat.\nIt is handy to have the grocery store near you. She is often so slow that I cannot wait on her. I am mighty glad that you came. You had better doctor it up before you hand it in. You mayhaps will be ready to leave then. She looked very distinguished. My mother was pernickety about the books we read. We are in a tremendous hurry. I am going anyhow, even if he says I cannot. I appreciate your feeling as you do about your own brother. It will cost us around fifty dollars. She could not help me any. Any one of our gowns will give you chic. It makes no more difference to me than it does to you. The fog was so heavy that we could not hardly see the shore. She has been ill from typhoid fever. We had a pleasant evening reminiscing.\nThe little old burg in days long gone. We saw a good show last night. They are as good as engaged. That was a curious coincidence. She failed her examination. I never can seem to do it well. The President had expressly committed the United States to the active support and participation in a league or association of nations. Modern children are not taught to mind. Even though it rained all of the time, we had quite a pleasant visit. He was too impractical to succeed in business. You should patronize your neighborhood grocer. Make it snappy. He has handled the characters in his story in a pastmasterly fashion.\n\nExercise 8: In consulting a dictionary about the use of a word, try not merely to get a general idea of the meaning of the word, but to discover within what limits of meaning the word is used.\nTo understand the meaning of a word, read the definition in its entirety instead of focusing on a single synonym. The definition for \"cut\" is: \"To separate parts with a sharp instrument; to make an incision in; to gash; to sever; to divide.\" It would be absurd to assume that the sentence \"Abbreviations will cut the money among them\" is correct based on the definition's last synonym. The meaning of \"cut\" is determined by the definition as a whole, not by one synonym taken separately. Look up the following words in an unabridged dictionary, read each definition and examples, and write sentences illustrating the correct use of each word: uncanny.\ncomparison, anger, inference, conversation, agreement, surrounded\n\nComparison involves identifying the similarities and differences between two or more things. (For example, the comparison of apples and oranges.)\n\nAnger is a strong feeling of displeasure or antagonism. (For example, I felt anger when I was cut off in traffic.)\n\nInference is the process of drawing a logical conclusion from evidence. (For example, I infer that it will rain based on the dark clouds and the cool temperature.)\n\nTo talk (verb) is to communicate using speech. (For example, I will talk to my friend about our plans for the weekend.)\n\nAgreement is the state of being in harmony or accord. (For example, we reached an agreement on the terms of the contract.)\n\nSurrounded means being enclosed on all sides by something. (For example, the castle was surrounded by a moat and a high wall.)\nsuspected, speak, vary, variance, contrast, deserving, affinity, consist, amuse, accused, accountable, admission, anxious, discouraged, eager, exult, concerned, impatient, look, necessary, necessity, opposed, opportunity, inquire.\n\nExercise 10:\nConsult the dictionary for the distinctions in meaning between the members of each of the following pairs of words: neglect and negligence; ingenuous and ingenious; fewer and less; admit and confess; instinct and intuition; contagious and infectious; hygienic and sanitary; wit and humor; criticize and censure; farther and further; admit and confess.\n\nExercise 11:\nConsult the table of abbreviations in the front part of a dictionary so that you may understand information that is often given in abbreviated form. For example, what do the following abbreviations mean: OF., Oxf., E.D., colloq.\nCompound words:\nsidewalk, already, tonight, byproduct, tomorrow, pro-German, self-evident, ex-president, twenty-five, courthouse, one hundred and fifty-three, well-bred, three-quarters, classmate, ten-dollar bill, socalled, thirty-fifth, self-satisfied, altogether, clear-cut\n\nExercise 13:\nSubstitute precise words for the italicized words in the following sentences:\n1. I have three zeros in my answer to the problem.\n2. Besides his ability as a mathematician, he has many other assets.\n3. The decadent Roman civilization was a feminine-natured civilization.\n4. Much literature has been published about the use of limestone on farmlands.\n5. Her charming innocence is childlike.\n6. We have much to learn from heathen cultures such as the Greek and Roman.\n7. Careful management is necessary to keep farm earnings continuously above average. 8. Transporting passengers and mail by airplanes has proved to be not only possible but practical. 9. I am quite jealous of your opportunity to study in Europe. 10. After supper you can have that snug place by the fire. 11. If you recommend me for this position, I shall appreciate it. 12. She was so decisive in her manner that people have always given in to her. 13. Building a concrete foundation in that racing current was a hard proposition. 14. The wreck was due to an error of the switchman. 15. It would be almost impossible to write a comprehensible paper on the economics of man when volume after volume has been written without exhausting the subject. 16. If we give your class an alternative exercise on precision and effectiveness in economics.\nall of these privileges, we shall no doubt be establishing precedence which may be unwise. (Notice the pronunciation.)\n\nExercise 14\nFind the precise meaning of each word in the following groups, and write sentences to illustrate that meaning.\n\n1. Mental, intelligent, intellectual.\n   - Mental: relating to the mind; mental abilities or faculties.\n     Sentence: His mental abilities far surpassed those of his peers.\n   - Intelligent: having a high level of mental capability; able to learn and understand things easily.\n     Sentence: She is an intelligent student who quickly grasps new concepts.\n   - Intellectual: relating to the intellect or understanding.\n     Sentence: The intellectual elite often have a deep understanding of complex issues.\n\n2. Abandon, desert, forsake.\n   - Abandon: give up completely; leave suddenly.\n     Sentence: The refugees were forced to abandon their homes.\n   - Desert, forsake: leave someone or something behind; abandon.\n     Sentence: He deserted his post during the battle.\n   - Forsake: give up or renounce (a person, cause, or belief).\n     Sentence: She forsook her family's traditions and embraced a new way of life.\n\n3. Hate, detest, abhor, abominate, loathe, despise.\n   - Hate: have a strong feeling of dislike for; detest.\n     Sentence: He hated the thought of spiders.\n   - Detest: feel intense dislike for.\n     Sentence: She detested the taste of broccoli.\n   - Abhor: feel strong disgust for.\n     Sentence: He abhorred the idea of violence.\n   - Abominate: regard with extreme disgust.\n     Sentence: The dictator was an abomination to his people.\n   - Loathe: feel intense dislike for.\n     Sentence: He loathed the sound of his alarm clock.\n   - Despise: regard with contempt.\n     Sentence: The bully was despised by his classmates.\n\n4. Great, large, big.\n   - Great: impressive in size, quantity, or quality.\n     Sentence: The pyramids are great marvels of ancient engineering.\n   - Large: having a considerable amount or extent.\n     Sentence: The crowd was large and boisterous.\n   - Big: having a considerable size.\n     Sentence: The elephant is a big animal.\n\n5. Give, bestow, grant, confer, present.\n   - Give: transfer possession of something to someone.\n     Sentence: She gave him a birthday present.\n   - Bestow: formally present or confer (an honor or title).\n     Sentence: The king bestowed the Order of the Garter upon the knight.\n   - Grant: give (someone) permission to do something.\n     Sentence: The mayor granted the permit for the parade.\n   - Confer: formally confer or bestow (an honor or title).\n     Sentence: The university conferred an honorary degree upon the author.\n   - Present: give (something) to someone, typically as a gift.\n     Sentence: He presented her with a bouquet of roses.\n\n6. Silent, reserved, uncommunicative, reticent, taciturn.\n   - Silent: not speaking; making no sound.\n     Sentence: The library was a silent place where no talking was allowed.\n   - Reserved: not readily communicative or open; formal and restrained in manner.\n     Sentence: The reserved guest barely spoke during the dinner party.\n   - Uncommunicative: not communicative; not expressing or exchanging information.\n     Sentence: The uncommunicative patient refused to answer the doctor's questions.\n   - Reticent: reluctant to speak or reveal information.\n     Sentence: The reticent witness refused to testify in court.\n   - Taciturn: given to silence; not communicative.\n     Sentence: The taciturn farmer rarely spoke to his neighbors.\n\n7. Last, latest, final, ultimate, extreme.\n   - Last: coming or being after all others in a series.\n     Sentence: This is the last page of the book.\n   - Latest: most recently published or produced.\n     S\nJake Schmidt, kicker and passer on the football team, is learning the ropes in the Chicago office of the World Life Insurance Company. I admire the slow, soft drawl of Southern people; it conveys a sense of culture and refinement that the rapid-fire speaking of Northerners does not. The benefits of Sunday sports are of two kinds: mental and physical. A good swimmer finds enjoyment in cutting through the water with long, firm strokes that make the water appear to boil as he ends each stroke. His ridicule of human nature is tinged with pity. For beachgoers, swimming races, motorboat races, and dashes in the sand keep boredom at bay. I believe Mother Nature is at her finest.\n8. Life as a beach guard is not all a bed of roses, but there are thorns in every path we choose in life.\n9. The preservation of his own life is a man\u2019s only thought, and he will gladly risk another\u2019s life in order to gain his own purpose.\n10. The edges of the sky raveled off into rain.\n11. Nothing is so despicable as a bowing, smirking person trying to act a gentleman while he has a hypocrite's heart behind his smiling mask.\n12. My chief enjoyment and pleasure in life has been, and still is, the pursuit of my studies in music.\n13. Then I found the dark side of the picture called Life. Life was ofttimes not all sunny and bright, but there were rough edges which sorely tried the youth that I was.\n14. Thus what had been an interesting ball game suddenly was turned haywire and some nice, [unclear]\n15. After surviving the rush for tickets, one is herded into a stuffy car. After all available seats have been filled, passengers have to sit on their baggage in the aisles. 16. The deflated holdings of inexperienced investors resulting from the recent stock market crash have greatly revived the belated hopes of questionable promoters who sense a growing desire on the part of the gullible public to recoup their heavy losses by making a lucky strike in a speculative venture. 17. The oculist suggested that if these new glasses did not help my eyes, I had better go to a specialist. 18. Our meat is prepared and packed by machinery and thus is untouched by the human hand. 19. When the last match has been struck, the proud possessor of the cigarette lighter brings it up with a grand flourish.\nThe treasured mechanism from his vest pocket, and with a nonchalant flip of the lever, he proceeds to light his cigarette, but to his wonder and amazement, there is no ignition. The keen intellect of the Greeks could not have reached such heights of development had not the great masters lived at a time when the stage was set for tremendous strides in the realms of thought.\n\nThe whole appearance of this Jersey cow is very striking. She has a soft skin. As you stroke her, it rolls smoothly between the fingers. Her hair is a rich cream color, soft and glossy. It gives her the appearance of a well-cared-for animal. Her eyes were shaded by long black lashes, curving backward in a very peculiar way, and these matched in hue her eyebrows.\n\n20. The Greeks could not have reached such heights of intellectual development without the great masters living during a time when significant progress was possible in the realm of thought.\n\n21. This Jersey cow has a striking appearance. Her skin is soft, and as you stroke her, it rolls smoothly between your fingers. Her hair is a rich cream color, soft and glossy, making her look well-cared-for. Her eyes are shaded by long black lashes that curve backward in a peculiar way, and these match the color of her eyebrows.\nHer tresses, tossed about her tender throat, quivered in the sunlight. (23) She shielded her face with a moody hand. (24) The mountains, with their forever-changing contours, seem to move in a slow dance calculated to allure him. There are young and sprightly peaks of fantastic shapes, like dancing fauns; there are smoothly rounded and maternal ranges; there are hoary oldsters whose crowns are forever white with snow. (25) The sand deserts of New Mexico and Arizona are very large. They give a conception of slow death and destruction. (26) The Grand Canyon splits the earth open as if it would swallow the whole universe. (26) Joseph Kennedy has come to the top. The journey along the highway of life here has thrown him up and now out to greater fields of endeavor.\n1. Our greatest adventure was our participation in the World War, which we brought to a successful conclusion and prevented the Germans from subjugating Great Britain and France and ultimately our own country, at a cost of billions of dollars and great suffering and hardship to our soldiers, to whom the country will always be grateful, and is now generously providing for the disabled and will provide for all when time and conditions permit. (This sentence is unified as it is expressing a single complete thought.)\n2. Among the average herd of Jersey cattle, she will appear to be small. She weighs about 750 pounds and is seven years old. (This sentence is unified as it is describing a single subject, \"she,\" and providing relevant details about her.)\n3. There were several other boys whom I knew. (This sentence is unified as it is stating a fact about the presence of multiple boys that the speaker is familiar with.)\nbetter than Carl, and no lasting friendship has resulted from them.\n\nIn the center of the field, a team was practicing. One player was knocking flies and grounders. His teammates were fielding them. Their uniforms were gray and their socks banded in gold.\n\nNear the benches, which were placed on either side of the field, were rows of bats. Managers were keeping them in order.\n\nThe typical cowboy is not (although there are but few left) extinct as yet, but contrary to public opinion, they are not ignorant, but good-natured and well-educated boys.\n\nThe fine manners of a Southerner are known the world over because he will not tolerate discourtesy to any lady.\n\nThere is the man who is a racing fanatic who will bet his own clothing on a horse race.\n\nThe number of people attending universities is gradually increasing.\nPeople are increasingly believing that more money can be earned with an education.\n\n10. \"Next,\" called the dean's assistant in a foreboding tone. I approached. I tied another knot in my handkerchief. I wriggled restlessly to the edge of the bench that guarded the door to a little office marked \"Dean of Women\" in straight black letters. I was waiting for an unsolicited conference. There was no denying it, I was nervous.\n\n11. Gray persistent rain beat down unceasingly from the cheerless leaden sky overhead. A dogged, relentless rain which had drenched all outdoors.\n\n12. The island is far from the mainland and is seldom visited by tourists.\n\n13. I have made many friends this first year in college, but none of them has been such a good friend as John.\nI have known him for ten years.\n14. Despite the fact that this cow has soft, gentle eyes, she has a bad disposition. When she is slightly disturbed, she becomes very wild. In this mood, she seems more like a tiger than a dairy cow.\n15. He fought the sea monsters as though they were mice. Although this was easy to do, for he had armor on and a sword in his hand.\n16. Most of my high school classmates had no ambition to get a better education, so they wondered why I wanted to go to college.\n17. No two people think alike or reason in quite the same way; from childhood we all form likes and dislikes; we establish opinions on religion, on politics, on society, on peace and war, and on all types of human relationships.\n18. In such a world of affairs as we live in, almost every difference of opinion leads to conflict.\nOne needs an extensive knowledge of business principles. If I were to finish college and not pursue a business career, I should not consider my energies wasted. I would be better fitted to carry on my own private affairs and dealings with fellow beings, and conduct more intelligently any work, be it private or public, which I might undertake.\n\nThe town had hoped he would leave his five hundred thousand dollars for the building of a new gymnasium. Our high school is very old and was erected before athletic games were considered essential.\n\nThe townspeople are discouraged about raising the money. A large percentage of citizens are farmers who cannot donate to the fund, as they are heavily burdened with debts.\nI.  One evening I came home very much elated because I had had a most enjoyable evening as I was certain I had made a good impression on my hostesses.\n\nII. As the argument continued, more girls drifted into our room. Each one adding her thoughts on the subject, all of them trying to help.\n\nIII. Better not smoke now, he thought. There had always been trouble about his smoking. She had hated the smell. Hated to have ashes scattered around. Now that he was home again, he had better be civilized. No use trying to sneak, for she'd be sure to smell the smoke.\n\nIV. I think that the question of allowing Sunday sports is of special interest in the spring because it is so easy on wintry Sundays to sit all day by the fireplace with the latest scandal sheet and a box of candy, lazily patting yourself on the back for not having to go outdoors to play.\nUnder stormy skies.\n\n25. In that family, the husband rules, and the wife stays at home and does the housework and takes care of the children. Which is as it should be.\n\n26. This new ruling will force many fraternity men to seek more expensive lodgings, as they had planned on living as cheaply as possible when forced to attend the Unity summer session because of a system of scale grading that flunked them in perhaps only one course.\n\n27. If the power of speech is a gift as great as any that can be named\u2014if the origin of language is, by many philosophers, even considered to be nothing short of divine\u2014if by means of words the secrets of the heart are brought to light, pain of soul is relieved, hidden grief is carried off, sympathy conveyed, counsel imparted, experience recorded, and wisdom perpetuated\u2014if by great authors the human spirit is stirred and the depths of the human soul are laid bare\u2014then let us cherish the written word.\nMany are drawn up into unity, national character is fixed, a people speaks, the past and the future, the East and the West are brought into communication with each other \u2014 if such men are, in a word, the spokesmen and prophets of the human family \u2014 it will not answer to make light of literature or to neglect its study. Rather, we may be sure that, in proportion as we master it in whatever language and imbibe its spirit, we shall ourselves become, in our own measure, the ministers of like benefits to others, be they many or few, be they in the obscurer or the more distinguished walks of life \u2014 who are united to us by social ties and are within the sphere of our personal influence.\n\nJohn Henry Newman.\n\nThe fact that we are located in the center of the United States, or nearly so, would make very little difference.\nWhen starting a trip, it is unclear which direction we began, but going west allows one to visit the Oriental people before reaching Europe. For definiteness, let's assume the journey will be taken in the westward direction. Before embarking on such an adventure, proper planning is essential. Therefore, let's discuss the preparations required and the trip's itinerary.\n\nExercise 2:\nRewrite the following sentences to make them coherent. In each case, state the rule that applies.\n\n1. In a school comprised of only the best students, everyone would require identical training, simplifying the education process. (The rule of identical circumstances)\n2. An earthen pot was discovered, buried with each person in a graveyard, and their sizes varied according to the deceased's size. (The rule of consistent correlation)\n3. While digging in the archaeological site, the archaeologist unearthed an earthen pot, which contained various artifacts. (The rule of sequential events)\nCoherence excavating among the mounds in this burial ground, many articles were found. The country around the mounds is rather hilly and wild, making it a natural place for Indians to live. The water is warm this beautiful morning, and followed by a cool shower imparts a rosy glow and a feeling of unconquerable strength. Soon after putting the coal into the stove, the flames began shooting out of all the cracks in the old stove. Southerners are a very healthy people, due to the outdoor life they lead. I dare to aspire to be a botanist, and with one line of my ancestors coming from Berlin and the other from Dublin, I am studying French. If these ladies really did good in the right way, they would ask their husbands instead of gossiping about this unfortunate family.\nbands to find the man a job, and instead of visiting the wife for an opportunity of looking over her house in a kindly inconspicuous way, they would help her organize her household so that she could find some time to rest.\n\nI know a student who was on probation every semester that he was in school. He just managed to get by, but he spent much effort and energy doing it. He always took his limit of cuts the first two weeks, and then if he overslept or wanted to go out of town for a weekend, he would spend hours trying to convince the doctors that he was ill.\n\nHarley is sitting beside me writing a letter to his family whose purpose is also to make the same request that I am making of you.\n\nWe only want to stay away three months. Everything that he does is done with an eye on convention and etiquette \u2014 which is a good thing.\n1. The fact that instructors and apparatus must be provided for each course, and that the greater the number of courses the greater the expense to the community, makes it obvious that the junior college curriculum will be small.\n2. Nothing prevented factory owners from hiring labor at extremely low rates, which they proceeded to do.\n3. He was very fond of reading, his mind was keen, and he had formed the habit of learning apt phrases.\n4. A golf course full of hazards has nothing on cutting a lawn full of lawn ornaments.\n5. Looking about a mile westward, the first big object we see is the international railway bridge.\n6. I believe that the reason Socrates was condemned to death was because during his trial he did not appeal to the jury.\nEveryone is busy earning money and scarcely studies the fine arts. (20) At this place, people register, pay fees, and learn where to stay. (21) Due to his old age, Socrates chose death over exile. (22) I believe we should construct buildings there because most sororities plan to or have built there. (23) I had to leave the first boat to go around and the boat behind me cut me off. (24) He believed a student should be taught their hardest subjects first and master one subject before starting another. (25) An example of how aerodromes can be profitable is given by A.H. Abel in the March issue of Airway Age. (26-27) He was determined to try again to find [something].\n28. He went to Wall Street to borrow money, but they wanted to charge him such a high rate of interest that he told them to keep it.\n29. I had the same issue with deciding what clothes to bring.\n30. People are wearing very wide-brimmed hats with summer dresses this year.\n31. The crops from fields where limestone was used in large quantities for ten years have varied. From these experiments, it seems that its use has been very beneficial.\n32. The house was not ready for us when we arrived due to her carelessness in not mailing the letter.\n33. My hometown will always be dearer to me than any town, no matter how beautiful.\n34. I really think it is advisable to bring one or two semi-formal dresses; you never know, they might wear them.\nThis September. In addition to aiding the tourist, the commercial traffic leading from the truck gardens to the cities would be speeded up by the new bridge. The purpose of this paper is not so much to discuss the accusations brought against Socrates in that renowned Athenian court and decide upon his true guilt or innocence, but rather to probe and criticize the conduct of Socrates, both before and during his imprisonment. An \"A\" grade crate of berries is one which is properly packed, and the tops of each box attractively arranged, and all the berries in every one of the twenty-four boxes are ripe enough to be sold. The berries are placed in the ordinary quart-boxes as picked, and then put into carriers, which are wooden frames provided with a handle.\nA characteristic of my ideal friend is a strong, indomitable will, not in the sense of stubbornness or tyranny, but pertaining to his morals and worthy ideas from which he will not be shaken. The complete record of pressure, temperature, and humidity will prove invaluable to science as well as to other explorers. They hope to successfully repeat this method of treatment. When a man is rescued after going down and his limp body is pumped back to life, there is a momentary dread of water by the guard which must be dominated over by going back into the water immediately after the rescue. The student may become lazy and depend upon his tutor to do all his reasoning, on the grounds that if he does not, he will not learn effectively.\nI will hire another employee. Music will be an added attraction, hoping to draw musically inclined individuals to the fair grounds. I am still searching for a superior book; if I find it, I will send it to you.\n\nExercise 3:\nRewrite the following sentences to make them more emotive. State in each case the rule that applies.\n\n1. The enjoyment I derive from swimming is significantly enhanced by the thrills, as there is usually some form of excitement to be had. (Amplification)\n2. He could not resist the temptation to be clever, no matter the cost to others. (Amplification)\n3. The sight of my father, draped in a long black judge's robe and seated behind the bench like a lollipop in a display case, brought me immense amusement. I rarely minded having to wait a long time for him before his case was concluded so that he might take his leave. (Amplification)\n4. It was a gloomy day. The gentle rain and the dark clouds overhead cast an appearance of depression and dejection upon all terrestrial objects.\n5. My ideal of a gentleman is a man of culture, refinement, fine feelings, and good manners.\n6. They had saved for years when suddenly they lost everything in the bank due to failure.\n7. In October 1793, Marie Antoinette was executed in Paris, after a trial in which false and atrocious charges were urged against her in addition to the treasonable acts of which she had been guilty.\n8. I could only carry my blue china pig bank, my flowered parasol, and a ruffled net handkerchief.\n9. When the temple was finished, a debasing, almost wild ceremony was held.\n10. You think that college has changed since you attended an institution of higher learning.\nHe was hated by those opposed to his religious beliefs and was almost always misunderstood. The geographical topography of the land upon which my home town is built and the region immediately surrounding it is very level. He had a heart of gold, and generosity seemed to be always first with him. Giant workmen, stripped to the waist, were exerting their powerful strength in handling the three-ton buckets of white-hot metal. A man can be engaged in almost any occupation and be a gentleman: he can be a football player and a real fellow and still be such a man. There have been many recent criticisms directed toward the present generation in regard to the light in which they hold the idea of good manners. It was only in my senior year that I considered such a thing as a profession. Therefore, when my career began, I found myself in a new and unfamiliar world.\nhigh school days were over, I was still in a state of indecision as to the course in which I should enroll.\n\n18. His fat, pudgy fingers barely stretched five white keys from \"c\" to \"g.\" He thumbed, and his head came down in accent, a suggestion of a tongue struggled in the corner of his mouth, and he kept his feet swinging free under the piano bench, moving back and forth in time with the music and his bobbing head.\n\n19. When you have true wisdom, you can see at once the cloud and the sun, the shadow and the light; you can compare the height of the church spire with that of the factory smoke-stack; the whole course of the stream will be clear to you.\n\n20. There is as much good and bad in the businessman as in the average human being the world over. Notwithstanding, the businessman is the most observant of the races.\n\"most outstanding type in the United States today. He had eyes that saw farther than the waves, seeing more in the city than cars and teams, and he had the poet's genius to tell the world what he saw.\n\nEmphasis\n\nALTERNATIVE EXERCISES\nTHE PARAGRAPH\n\nExercise 1\nParagraph Apply the principles of paragraph division to the following passage. Give the reasons for your paragraph division.\n\n1. \"Peggotty,\u201d I said suddenly, \u201cwere you ever married?\u201d \u201cLord, Master Davy/\u2019 replied Peggotty. \u201cWhat\u2019s put marriage in your head?\u201d She answered with such a start that it quite awoke me. And then she stopped in her work, and looked at me, with her needle drawn out to its thread\u2019s length. \"But were you ever married, Peggotty?\" I asked. \"You are a very handsome woman, aren\u2019t you?\" I thought her in a different style from my mother, certainly.\"\nBut I considered her a perfect example of another school of beauty. There was a red velvet footstool in the best parlour, on which my mother had painted a nosegay. The groundwork of that stool and Peggotty's complexion appeared to me to be one and the same thing. The stool was smooth, and Peggotty was rough, but that made no difference.\n\n\"Me handsome, Davy!\" said Peggotty.\n\n\"Lawk, no, my dear! But what put marriage in your head?\" asked Peggotty.\n\n\"I don't know! You mustn't marry more than one person at a time, must you, Peggotty?\" I replied.\n\n\"Certainly not,\" Peggotty decided promptly.\n\nDickens.\nPlace is as dead as a doornail. I cannot tell you much, Love, Frank Green. P.S. Don't forget the stamps. There it was again \u2014 stamps! They were his latest interest when I left home in September. He could not even write a letter without bringing in stamps! And I had a suspicion that that was his object in writing the letter \u2014 to get stamps. So he was still at it. I could close my eyes and see a room full of boys and stamps. Stamps everywhere: on the table, on the couch, on the chairs, and on the floor. Every floor in the house was covered with them. No one dared sweep them up.\n\nHeavens, no! Why, some of them were worth a thousand dollars! Why didn't he sell them then, if he could get so much for them? Well, for a fellow's sake, a fellow.\ncouldnt sell them till the collector came around, could he? Where was the collector and when was he coming? Oh, he was somewhere and he'd be along some day. Girls were a nuisance, always asking questions. Stupids! Never could understand anything, anyway. So the nuisance found it better not to interfere; and the stamps remained unmolested. Every night the bunch would come trooping in, and gather in the den with their stamps and stamp albums. \"Hey, Green, I'll trade you a Guatemala for that Santo Domingo. You've got two of them anyway.\" \"Well, I hope to tell you I wont! What are you trying to pull? Guatemalas only market for five dollars, and I can get ten for this, any old day, and I dont mean maybe.\" Sometimes the argument became so heated as to necessitate a little interference from the nuisance.\nThe battle would subside for a time and then break out afresh, rising higher and higher, until the nuisance decided it was time for intervention again. I didn't send any stamps, and neither have I received another letter. It was almost nine months ago that the stamp hobby was in full swing; so I suspect that it is over now. I shall be glad if it is, but I am not letting myself become too elated. One cannot with a thirteen-year-old brother.\n\nTopic sentence: The stamp hobby has come to a halt.\nThrough the sour mud-swamp of existence, a noble force digs and tears, running and flowing like an ever-deepening river. It drains off the festering water, gradually clearing the root of the remotest grass blade. In its place, a green, fruitful meadow emerges with a clear-flowing stream. Blessed is the meadow itself, let the stream and its value be great or small!\n\nFrom the inmost heart of the Worker rises his god-given Force, the sacred celestial Life-essence breathed into him by Almighty God. From his inmost heart, he is awakened to all nobleness - to all knowledge, self-knowledge, and much more, as soon as Work begins.\n\nKnowledge? Cleave to that, for Nature herself accredits it, says Yea to it.\n\"You have no knowledge other than what you gain through work; the rest is all a hypothesis of knowledge, something to be debated in schools, something floating in the clouds, in endless logic-vortices, until we try it and fix it. 'Doubt, of whatever kind, can be ended only by action.' \u2014 Carlyle. Life is filled with many hard and discouraging days, but I am convinced that the most discouraging of days are those when my rhetoric assignment book reads, 'JECT arising from the essays on education.' Would that Montaigne and Milton, who are the real instigators of this crime, could but know my resentment! I am one of those unfortunate persons who is unable to sit down and conscientiously write a six-hundred-word theme in the length of time it takes to write out each of those four thousand six hundred letters that go to make such a theme.\"\nI am unable to get themes from my brain like maple syrup from a tree unless the themes are already present. The only time one can get maple syrup from a tree is during the early spring, the right season for tapping trees. Similarly, I cannot get theme matter from a block of wood if it is the wrong season. I have pleaded with instructors about the limited number of theme subjects, but if they do not find me temperamental, they must believe me to be another excuse-making person. However, when an assigned subject resonates with me, I itch to explore it thoroughly.\nI. Temperamental Troubles\n\nI find it necessary to jot down my thoughts on this theme before inspiration eludes me. It strikes me that the only explanation for the problems I and others have encountered is our temperamental nature. Up until now, I have believed that only geniuses possess this trait. Manifestations of genius in my youth were Willie Potter, who could play \"The Rosary\" on the xylophone in the eighth grade, and little Mary Dalton, who studied at the Glenn Dillard Gunn School of Music in Chicago before reaching her teens. \"Ah, they are geniuses!\" people exclaimed, but I thought they were peculiar \u2013 peculiar in the sense that they were not particularly bright in their studies and received their high school diplomas for what should have been paychecks for winning silver cups for the school in state high school competitions.\nMusical contests. Our senior class snickered when our geniuses received their diplomas on graduation day. However, we must take back a little. I read in the home town Gazette, which was in last week's laundry kit, that little Mary Dalton is being presented to Chicago musicians by Glenn Dillard Gunn himself next Tuesday night. So much for temperamental geniuses who can get through life playing pianos without having to write six-hundred-word themes that have to be in at nine o'clock on a Wednesday morning.\n\nThe college, if it is to be a real exponent of a liberal education, must resist vigorously the modern tendency toward extra-curricular activities of one kind and another. Athletics, literary societies, college journalism, homecomings, all of them have their place, all are valuable within limits; but they must never be permitted to be a distraction.\nI am fully convinced that university athletics, as now organized, is detrimental to education and scholarship. Our stadium, costing about $2 million, seating about 70,000 persons, is for several months of the year the center of university interest and activity. Vast throngs are attracted to our little community, but no one in the crowds has any thought for the real function of the university. The wildest demonstrations of loyalty for the team and for the institution are aroused, but not a spark of intellectual curiosity. A college must be built on something more substantial than college songs, class cheers, and sentimental loyalty.\n\nTopic sentences:\n1. The speaker is convinced that university athletics are detrimental to education and scholarship.\n2. The university stadium is the center of interest and activity for vast crowds.\n3. The crowds are not focused on the real function of the university.\n4. Demonstrations of loyalty are aroused but intellectual curiosity is lacking.\n5. A college must be built on something more substantial than college songs, class cheers, and sentimental loyalty.\nThe American people, composed of individuals who have lost association with their old landmarks, are more than any other people who have crossed an ocean and spread themselves across a new continent. The American who still lives in his grandfather\u2019s house feels as if he were living in a museum. Few Americans have not moved at least once since childhood, and even if they have stayed where they were born, the old landmarks themselves have been carted away to make room for progress. This, perhaps, is one reason why we have so much more Americanism than love of America. It takes time to learn to love the new gas station which stands where the wild honeysuckle grew.\nThe great majority of Americans have risen in the world, moving out of their class and possibly bringing the old folks with them to sit by steam pipes and listen to the radio. However, more and more of them have moved not only out of their class but out of their culture, leaving the old folks behind and breaking the continuity of life. Faith grows well only as it is passed on from parents to children amidst surroundings that bear witness, as nothing changes radically to a deep permanence in the order of the world. It is true that in this great physical and psychic migration some of the old household gods are carefully packed up and put with the rest of the luggage, then unpacked and set up on new altars in new places. But what cannot be taken with them?\nThe tree, at most, is but the part above the ground. Its roots remain in the soil where they grew. - Walter Lippmann.\n\nPunishment is a blessed thing. I pity the young who have grown up without it. I pity the old, the masters and mistresses of households, whom nobody dares to contradict, who are never put into the corner or whipped as they deserve. I pity the kings and emperors who have gone murderous-mad because no one stood up to them or made them behave. But punishment holds no positive value; it only negates. For any positive help towards living a nobler life, apart from the influence of friendship and education, I can only fall back on that real and widespread human possession: the instinct that shows itself.\nThe existence of the Internal Censor is an instinct, both moral and aesthetic, which rejects things because they are bad and ugly, and pursues things because they are good and beautiful. Philosophers insist on drawing a distinction between these two, but I confess that I never can feel it very real. As far as I can analyze my own feelings, I should say that the motive which keeps me from a bad action is a feeling that as I contemplate it, I do not like the look or smell of it. I feel it to be ugly or foul or not decent \u2013 not the sort of thing with which I want to be associated. And, similarly, the thing that nerves me towards a good but difficult action is a feeling that it seems beautiful or fine, the sort of thing that I love as I look at it.\nI and others desire to possess this moral or aesthetic instinct. Though not infallible, it is a true fact. I believe it to be generally very strong in young people, at least in those who have real life in them. Though often misdirected while they make their usual experiments, it has a way of correcting its own errors and ultimately finding its right course. It, and perhaps it alone, answers the most troublesome of all questions which the cynic can put to the moralist: \"Granted that it is useful to society that I should be honest, why should I mind about society if I can find my own profit in stealing?\" - Gilbert Murray, Harper's Magazine, January 1930.\n\nThe Composition as a Whole\nExercise 1\nDiscuss the suitability of the following subjects for 500-word expositions. If you find the subjects too large, suggest subtopics.\n\n1. The role of morality in society\n2. The nature of the cynic and the moralist\n3. The importance of individual instincts in moral decision-making\n4. The balance between personal gain and societal expectations\n5. The influence of societal norms on individual behavior\n6. The impact of youth and experimentation on moral development\n7. The function of instincts in guiding moral choices\n8. The consequences of dishonesty and honesty in various contexts.\nIn the beginning, man didn't need to follow any fixed standards. He acted on impulse, without considering advancement. As time passed, he learned the benefits of protection through living in groups. Standards of living, dressing, laws, weights, and measures developed through these groups. Today, there are standards we use without thinking.\nThe ordinary ignorant miner knows nothing about standards of living. He may not have heard of the term. He is familiar with standards of time, weight, and measure, but unaware of their origins. Our progress would have been impossible without the use of standards.\n\nEconomics defines standard of living as the value of satisfaction over desires. What does the average laborer in a sweatshop know about the value of satisfaction over desires? He likely thinks it is an advertisement for a cigarette promising him the satisfaction he desires. His standard of living means more to him than this. It signifies the happiness and welfare of his family. The Chinese laborer can live on five cents a day. The American laborer goes on strike if he does not get his desired wages.\nThe average person earns only one dollar and a half hour with the use of machinery, reducing manual labor to a minimum. He no longer has to saw with a hand-saw or file with a hand-file, as machines do this for him. Yet, we still have strikes among discontented labor. This is not intended to be an essay on the labor question. I am merely trying to bring out the fact that the average person uses the standard of living every day and does not realize what it is or what it means to him.\n\nThere are many other standards which could be given, but the ideas are the same. Our standards are not the best. The French metric system of measuring by tens has a decided advantage over our system of twelves. A year of thirteen months of twenty-eight days would perhaps be better than the one we use now. But no matter how the standard is defined, it is a necessary concept for understanding the economic well-being of individuals and societies.\nAviation is in its beginnings, and the uncertainty of its safety is a significant concern. With only ten thousand licensed commercial planes in the United States, many people still harbor distrust towards flying. However, curiosity is gradually overcoming this fear. The hazards of flying are diminishing as a result of legislative measures.\n\nAviation Safety\n\nThe infant industry of aviation raises concerns regarding its safety. There are only ten thousand licensed commercial planes in the United States. Most people remain skeptical about flying, but curiosity is progressively surmounting this apprehension. The hazards of flying are not as prevalent as they once were. Legislation has been enacted to ensure aviators and airships adhere to specifications.\n\nAn airplane must be constructed from a light yet robust and durable framework. Fight wood girders also contribute to the plane's safety. The gas in the gas cells must be strong, impermeable, and reliable.\nThe engine must be adequate in power and reliability. Airplane behavior is studied to make improvements. Some planes have slotted wings that are automatically controlled. Wing slots can prevent a spin by flapping open and increasing the lift on the lower wing. If a plane has a slot that opens automatically, it is much safer. There is more to the safety of flying than the construction of the plane. The pilot is responsible for fifty percent of the accidents occurring to airplanes. To be a safe flyer, the pilot must be quick to think, have good judgment, and experience. Most accidents caused by the pilot occur when the plane is in a spin. The spin is dangerous because it affects the eyes. When a plane goes into a spin, the pilot's eyes begin to oscillate.\nWhen he pushes the stick back, his eyes continue to oscillate until they make him believe he is still in a spin. It is even more dangerous because when in a spin, the pilot cannot leave the plane in a parachute. The navy is conducting experiments to install a trap-door in the floor from which the pilot might drop. Some pilots try to do silly and dangerous stunts, causing a great many accidents. Lindbergh is an example of a pilot who never does fancy stunts. Flying in America is almost completely unregulated, and unregulated flying may be dangerous to the public as well as to the flyers. The Aeronautic Safety Code would help a great deal because it covers every phase of aircraft operation. This code has rules on fire prevention, ventilation, location of gasoline tanks, and requires a fire wall.\nThe impossibility of steady flight below the stalling speed is the greatest danger to air-travel today. When below this speed, a plane will likely spin due to careless flying. Stalling means falling below the necessary speed to maintain flight. A tri-motored plane is as susceptible to the hazards of high minimum speed as a single-engined one. The engine may stall when a plane is trying to land on a narrow strip of ground. A six-ton mass traveling at fifty miles an hour crashing to the ground is dangerous. The tri-motored Ford plane crashed last spring at Newark, and the Fokker F-32, the largest plane in the country, also crashed.\nElements were held responsible in both cases. Accidents are due to two causes: plane and pilot. According to C.J. Murphy, engine failure is responsible for 20 percent of accidents; weather conditions, poor visibility, and darkness contribute 4 percent; miscellaneous, 14 percent; and human failure, 50 percent. Attempts have been made to lengthen a plane's speed range with wing slots, and experiments with ornithopter and helicopter. If a plane is equipped properly with these slots, the plane cannot be forced into a stall or spin. Airplanes equipped with these features are slower, but safer at a low speed. Engineers are trying to increase the speed through experiments. Blind flying, as in a thick fog, is very dangerous. The crash of the tri-motored plane (T.A.T.) in Mexico demonstrates that the problem is not solved.\n\nThe Composition as a Whole: 25\nAirplanes are slower but safer at a low speed if equipped with these features. Engineers are increasing the speed through experiments.\nThere are two solutions to the problem: first, to eliminate fog over airports, which has not been accomplished; second, to develop better instruments and better control in flight. The most delicate instruments used in weather forecasting do not predict the appearance of fog. The best aviators can do to judge fog conditions along their travel route is to calculate the relative possibility of fog based on the nature of the land surface they cross, its proximity to large bodies of water that may affect the atmosphere, and the season's weather against what information weather bureaus are able to give. It is evident, therefore, that the fog handicap prevails as a serious hazard at all airports and on all flying routes, at some time or other. The stability of planes and the radio have helped a great deal.\nTowards solving the problem of fog, a plane can call for its position every ten minutes or so by radio beacons. A stable plane is one which, when disturbed from flight in equilibrium, will automatically return to equilibrium. According to engineers of the Guggenheim Fund, the theoretically safe plane should be able to fly steadily in gusty air, with controls untouched, for not less than five minutes. In 1927, 40% of all army plane accidents were due to spins, and in the last five years, 45% of navy airplane accidents have been due to the same cause. Pilots are not entrusted with passengers unless they have passed medical tests and have had at least two hundred hours of flight experience. During 1928, there were only eighty-five accidents involving aircraft operating over regular routes. This was one death for every accident.\nThesis: The dangerous feat of handling an airplane in fog, a pervasive hazard in air travel and a most baffling hazard of all modes of travel, has been achieved successfully; this marks the most important accomplishment to date by the Guggenheim Safety Fund Association. (Removed unnecessary line breaks, commas, and extra spaces.)\nI. The handling of an airplane in fog have been a most hazardous accomplishment. A. The pilot is unable to keep the plane on an even keel. B. He loses his course of travel and sense of direction. C. His altimeter has been inadequately delicate to assure landing without crashing. D. Fog signals at airports cannot be discerned by the pilot in time for him to use them to advantage.\n\n1. The drumming of the motor prevents the possibility of his hearing fog-horn signals.\n2. Beacon lights cannot be distinguished by the human eye, but can be detected by the visual radio receiver.\n\nII. Fog is a handicap which prevails at some time or another, at all airports and on all flying routes. A. Fog prevails along the coast. B. It is to be encountered in mountainous regions. C. It is to be expected near large bodies of water, such as the Great Lakes.\nD. Fog occurs with sudden changes of weather.\nIII. Fog in air travel is a handicap which is greater than in any other kind.\nA. The right-hand side of the road is assigned to automobiles.\nB. Open signals guide the trains on the railroad.\n\nC. Fog horns and buoys warn boat pilots.\nD. The airplane pilot is unable to see or hear anything except his cockpit and engine when in fog.\n1. He is forced to continue traveling. Cannot stop.\n2. He has the alternatives of making a \"chance\" landing or flying onward and upward to get above the fog if possible.\nIV. Lieutenant James H. Doolittle has accomplished the feat of \"flying blind\" successfully, which marks the most important \"find\" of the Guggenheim Safety Fund Association.\nA. Lieutenant Doolittle flew fifteen miles, taking off\n1. And he landed safely with a hood over the cockpit. The artificial horizon enabled him to keep the plane level. The short-range radio direction-beam enabled him to stay on course. A highly sensitive altimeter showed his height above the ground within a few feet.\n2. Mr. Daniel Guggenheim announces this demonstration as eliminating the last great hazard to reliability of airplane travel. Airplane travel is now independent of weather conditions.\n3. The Rayon Industry\nThesis: Is the rayon industry supplanting the silk industry? What are the characteristics of rayon that qualify it to compete with silk?\nI. It has always been a desire among men to reproduce by artificial means natural substances that, because of their scarcity or beauty, are estimated at a high value.\nA. A French naturalist, in his effort to produce synthetic silk, discovered viscose rayon in 1894.\nArtificial silk went so far as to produce twisted ply yarn from spider thread, which was knit into stockings weighing only two and one-fourth ounces.\n\nB. Another Frenchman succeeded in his chemical experiment on the same subject.\n\nII. Many improvements have been made since Chardonnet\u2019s successful experiment.\n\nA. One process is called the Cuprammonium and Vicose process.\nB. There is also the Acetate process. I shall not discuss either of these methods, as they will probably be tiresome and uninteresting.\n\nIII. Rayon has many characteristic properties, which I shall just mention.\n\nA. There has been some discussion as to whether or not rayon is perishable.\nB. Will it stand washing and ironing?\nC. Varieties of rayon differ in their ability to absorb water.\nD. It is claimed that the rayon made by a certain process is particularly resilient.\nThe process conducts the beneficial ultra-violet rays of sunlight and excludes the harmful rays.\n\nIV. The world needs new textile fibers.\nA. With the increase in population and the rapid spread of civilization, there has been an expansion of the world\u2019s textile requirements.\nB. This need will be more noticeable in a few years hence, for European countries are rapidly recovering from the prostration caused by the war.\nC. Rayon, an inexpensive substitute for silk, can fill the demand of many women who desire to wear silk but cannot afford it.\n\nV. The consumption of rayon is very extensive.\nA. In 1927, the consumption of rayon for the first time exceeded that of silk.\nThere is much discussion about whether rayon will supplant the cotton industry. Rayon can be compared to natural silk in many ways. A. In terms of color and beauty. B. There is a considerable difference in their strength.\n\nExercise 5:\nTopics for an autobiography:\n\nI. My ancestors\nII. My parents\nIII. My schooling\nIV. My hobbies\nV. Childhood experiences\nVI. My companions\n\nCentral idea: \"My journey through life: exploring my heritage, upbringing, education, passions, and formative experiences\"\n\nI. My ancestors: 300 words\n- Briefly describe the origins and backgrounds of my grandparents and great-grandparents\n- Share interesting stories or anecdotes about their lives\n\nII. My parents: 400 words\n- Describe my parents' backgrounds, personalities, and influences on me\n- Share memorable experiences with them\n\nIII. My schooling: 500 words\n- Discuss my educational journey, from elementary school to college or beyond\n- Reflect on the impact of my education on my personal growth\n\nIV. My hobbies: 300 words\n- Describe my various interests and passions\n- Share how these hobbies have shaped my identity and experiences\n\nV. Childhood experiences: 300 words\n- Share memorable experiences from my childhood\n- Reflect on how these experiences have influenced my perspective on life\n\nVI. My companions: 200 words\n- Describe the important people in my life, including friends and romantic partners\n- Share how these relationships have shaped my experiences and personal growth.\nVII. My reading\nVIII. The traveling I have done\nIX. My ambitions\nX. Teachers who have influenced me\nXI. Tragedies in my life\nXII. Good fortunes that have come to me\nXIII. My home surroundings\nXIV. Life in a small town (or country, or city)\nXV. My character as I see it\nExercise 6\nTurn the topic outline that you made for the preceding exercise into a sentence outline.\n\nOutlining:\n\n1. Topic: My experiences and reflections\n2. Reading: I have read various books and materials.\n3. Traveling: I have visited different places.\n4. Ambitions: I have certain goals and aspirations.\n5. Teachers: Certain individuals have significantly impacted my learning.\n6. Tragedies: I have faced challenges and hardships.\n7. Good fortunes: I have experienced fortunate events.\n8. Home surroundings: I live in a particular environment.\n9. Life in a small town (or country, or city): I have experienced life in a specific location.\n10. Character: I perceive myself to have certain qualities.\n\nAlternative exercises:\nGrammar\nExercise:\nCorrect any errors in grammar in the following sentences. Give reasons for making changes.\n\n1. Diamonds are trump.\n2. Are you sure it is I who is wanted?\n3. Half of the city's fire-fighting engines were called out.\n4. Most of the corn and wheat have been damaged by the drought.\n5. Our complete stock of diamonds, jewelry, standard-make watches, and silverware\n6. The few finishing touches delay the opening of the new bridge.\n7. Neither boy was sick a day while they were gone.\n8. Each of us tries to help the other.\n9. Differential and integral calculus was difficult for me.\n10. After the preliminary plans and necessary legislation were completed, the actual operations were started.\n11. In such a dense forest, there was no chance of him escaping without some injury.\n12. As a small boy, my ambition was to be a jockey. When I was eighteen, the opportunity presented itself.\n13. These people are just a background that helps in forming us.\n14. He was pitcher on the side opposite my friend and me.\n15. The machine is driven by the power from the boat's engine, and it works so rapidly that three men are required to remove it.\n1. It takes more imagination than any intelligent man possesses to believe that prohibition will ever be enforced. (16) Colleges are filled with students who are hoping to be educated so that they might do business better than the uneducated. (17) I was so much excited that I did not even ask Ned who he was trying to get to help. (18) It was the fate of my cousin and me to have to play a cornet duet. (19) I know now that death comes unexpected under all circumstances. (20) Economists predict that, according to statistics, the earth, two centuries hence, would be overpopulated. (21) There have been many attacks upon present-day college education. (22) My lamb had grown to a great size, and his nimble black legs grew sleek and strong, his large brown eyes became almost human in understanding. (23)\nI. And he, and his wool had become bountiful and fine in texture.\n24. We crept up slower and slower, finally reaching the house.\n25. When I asked to sleep in the \u201cbest room,\u201d my request met with surprisingly little objection.\n26. Sleeping cars are built of steel, which make them safe in case of a wreck.\n27. Sometimes I wonder whether I will ever be of as much use as my grandmother was when she was young.\n28. Age has added its mellowing touch to the older buildings \u2014 the original fortress, the block houses, the sturdy remains of what in that time were the acme of perfection in defensive structures.\n29. Although we are all created equally, some of us still feel a little better than others.\n30. The old hen with her large brood of little chicks were all trying to crowd into the tiny playhouse.\n31. Two-thirds of my time is spent on my mathematics.\nNone of us is going to the concert. He gave the most complete explanation. She is one of those comfortable persons who always makes you feel at ease. I am more worried than she is about the news. He cut her off short in the middle of her story. Would you care to come with us? I would like to apply for a position in your high school. The whole family were there: her, her mother, and her four sisters. Drive slow. Dangerous hill ahead. She would not dare say that to either you or I. Whom do you think would be able to fill such a position? I feel good this morning for the first time since I took cold. His father is determined that he goes to college. What will we do if the doors are locked? Who should he choose for his partner but me? They\nI. Had I gone yesterday, I would have had enough money for my friend and me to buy lunch. II. As the car's headlights blinded me, he consulted those he considered wiser. III. For pledging dinner, you will wear formal attire, but you will not need it again until October or November. IV. The few ashes from the burning of hard coal mean less disagreeable work. V. The storm of questions, suspicions, and rumors, some confirmed, others unconfirmed, have been so violent as to raise in any reasonable person's mind a further question. VI. We left for Pans Grammar the next day, arriving there on Sunday. VII. If that was true, then I did right. VIII. Which is the man they thought him to be? IX. There is to be a dance and a...\nI. No jury trial bill is passed by the lower house. (no punctuation needed in a headline)\n2. He was angry at what he called my high-pressure salesmanship. So I told him what he could do about it. (periods to indicate separate sentences)\n3. It is true that a few freshmen, who have not yet been instructed in the rudiments of college life, have broken this ruling. But once they are enlightened, they too refrain from smoking on the campus. (period and comma to separate the introductory clause from the main clause)\n4. I cannot agree with the author in this statement: \"That government is best which governs not at all.\" (colon to introduce a quote, and a period to end the sentence)\n5. Jim ran up the stairs as fast as he could go; his only hope was to reach his mother's room before his. (periods to indicate separate sentences)\n6. Well, I must be going, he said after a long pause.\n7. If everyone thought as he did, the world would be two hundred years behind.\n8. For four years, we struggled with mathematics, languages, and many other subjects.\n9. After two wagons have been loaded, the machine is set and the belts have all been put on their pulleys. Then the threshing begins.\n10. At commencement time, a meeting place for the alumni is needed, as well as a place for visitors to gather. A good Union Building would be most useful for these purposes.\n11. Those who wish to play golf on Sunday must go to the country club golf course, which is the only one open on Sunday.\n12. Having only a small business, this merchant had no moving van. So, the members of the play cast had to hire a truck to haul the furniture.\n13. My opinions...\nThe use of my having any opinions is met with laughter from my parents. By this new process, more knives can be produced in the same amount of time, increasing output and quality of our product. You believe that college has changed since you went, but not as you think. Do you remember Walter Edmonds? He sails on June 6th on the He de France. Freshmen who like to play usually go home to stay at the end of the first semester. Even a gentleman does not always have a good disposition, but when he is not feeling well or when luck seems to be against him, he does not allow his feelings to control his actions - that is, he is master of his emotions, and does not allow his mood to become apparent. I want you, Mother, to realize that I do not consider college:\nA place for a good time only. Our course in rhetoric included many things besides rhetoric, such as politics, religion, or philosophy. An education used to be a luxury, now it is a necessity. The meadows were an early green; the trees were in half leaf, a few birds were back from their southern winter, and we were planning our summer vacation. The Dean looked up, a half-smile on his face. \"There has been some mistake, Mr. Smith,\" I did not cut class yesterday. I am planning to take the examinations in the fall, therefore I shall spend most of the summer studying. Then I saw the dark side of this picture, called Life. I think it is advisable to bring one or two semi-formal dresses because you never know, you might need them in September. There was\nNo school the next day and it was only eight-thirty too early to go home consequently we took plenty of time to decide what to do.\n29. Friendship is I think more rare than anything else in the world.\n30. When the temple was first completed, many residents of Salt Lake City not members of the Mormon Church were shown through it. But since its dedication, no visitors have been admitted.\n31. I shall be glad to leave yet I shall miss my friends.\n32. This ruling would affect two kinds of people: those who would be able to get a college education in spite of cuts and those whose college course would be shortened to one semester on account of cuts.\n33. I had always liked her more than I liked him.\n34. His text was 1 Corinthians 16:1-9.\n35. Thomas Hardy's first popular success: Far from the Madding Crowd.\nFrom the Madding Crowd appeared anonymously in the Cornhill Magazine: \"36. Let's go. Faces in the fire will smile at him, mock him, frown at him, call and repulse or, if there be no faces, the smoke will take a thousand shapes and lead his thoughts by delightful paths to the land of reverie. Or he may watch the innermost heart of the fire burn blue, especially if there is frost in the air or poker in hand. He may coax a coal into increased vivacity. This is an agreeable diversion, suggesting the medieval idea of the Devil in his domain.\" \u2014 E. V. Lucas.\n\n\"38. She wrote the letter for her mother was ill. A strong west wind filled the sails. It shivered from head to foot and its teeth chattered. And as it stared at me, persecutor, devil, or whatever it thought me, it made with its wind a hissing sound.\"\n\"Ing his mouth as if it were snapping at me like a worried dog, -- Dickens.\n\nA man of seven had said, \"None on your lip.\" You weren't never at Thrums yourself. Tommy\u2019s reply was, \"Ain\u2019t my mother a Thrums woman? Shovel who had but one eye and that bloodshot fixed it on him threateningly. The Thames is in London he said. \"Cos they wouldn't have it in Thrums,\" replied Tommy. 'Amstead 'Eaths is in London, I tell yer Shovel said. The cemetery is in Thrums said Tommy. There ain't no queens in Thrums anyhow. There is the Auld Licht minister. Well then if you jest see Trafalgar Square. If you jest see the Thrums town house. St Pauls ain't in Thrums. It would like to be. After reflecting, Shovel said in desperation, \"Well then my father were once at a hanging.\" Tommy replied instantly, \"It were my father what was hanged.\" -- J. M.\"\nBarrie, age 42, shared many common interests with him: devotion to their children, engagement in public affairs, and love of art. I was asked numerous questions such as my major and minor subjects, athletic participation, and church affiliations. After a two-year delay, our government responded. My career was set: I was to become a renowned novelist. He was a radical, advocating in theory the complete overthrow of all political, social, and religious institutions. Jane, my dear friend who lived across the street from me for many years, is one of them. Old Cato's De Re Rustica is my Cultivator. The only translation I have seen makes a mockery of that passage: \"When you think of...\"\n\"Getting a farm, turn it thus in your mind not to buy greedily, nor spare your pains to look at it and do not think it enough to go around it once. The oftener you go there, the more it will please you if it is good. I think I shall not buy greedily but go round and round it as long as I live, and be buried in it first, that it may please me the more at last. - H.D. Thoreau, Walden, 49. I told her what else I could say to her that she would be well enough to go home very soon.\n\n50. Do you recall that Hazlitt said that the soul of a journey is liberty: perfect liberty to think, feel, do just as one pleases?\n\nCall me Ishmael. Some years ago, having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would set sail for the sea.\"\nI'm interested in things on shore, so I thought I'd sail around and see the watery part of the world. It's a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation when I find myself growing grim about the mouth, when November is damp and drizzly in my soul, when I pause before coffin warehouses and bring up the rear of every funeral I meet, and especially when my hypochondria gets such an upper hand of me that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street and methodically knocking people's hats off. I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball with a philosophical flourish; Cato throws himself upon his sword - I quietly take to the ship.\nNothing surprising in this if they but knew it, almost all men in their degree some time or other cherish very nearly the same feelings toward the ocean with me -- Herman Melville.\n\nPunctuation:\n. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .\nending in able: dispose, move, mistake, reconcile, prove, compare, console, blame, imagine, decline, cure, measure, notice, service, marriage, charge, damage, trace, hobby, democracy, policy, regency, tragedy, remedy, elegy, theology, academy, enemy, anatomy, destiny, poppy, diary, laundry, treaty, delay, spray, alley, attorney, journey, turkey, decoy, alloy, corduroy, convey\n\nExercise 3: traceable, servicable, marriageable, chargeable, damageable\n\nExercise 4: baby, lullabies, hobby, democracies, policies, regencies, tragedies, remedies, elegies, theologies, academies, enemies, anatomies, destinies, poppies, diaries, laundries, treaties, delays, sprays, alleys, attorneys, journeys, turkeys, decoy, alloys, corduroys, conveys\n\nExercise 5: I fancy, he fancies, I faded; I pacify, he pacifies, I pacified; I terrify, he terrifies, I terrified; I qualify, he qualifies, I qualified; I accompany, he accompanies, I accompanied; I spy, he spies, I spied; I reply, he replies, I replied; I occupy, he occupies, I occupied; I vary, he varies, I varied; I dry, he dries, I dried; I ferry, he ferries, I ferried; I worry, he worries, I worried; I pity, he pities, I pitied; I envy, he envies, I envied; I levy, he levies, I levied.\nWrite the infinitive and present participle of the following verbs: believe, hie, tie, die, vie.\n\nInfinitive: to believe, to hie, to tie, to die, to vie.\nPresent participle: believing, hieing, tying, dying, vying.\n\nWrite the singular and plural of the following nouns: limb, seed, sword, church, match, yacht, witch, varnish, bank, cannibal, scream, robin, stump, cedar, savior, bus, compass, class, abbess, princess, convict, socialist, blow, ax, axis, matrix, six, quiz, waltz.\n\nSingular: limb, seed, sword, church, match, yacht, witch, varnish, bank, cannibal, scream, robin, stump, cedar, savior, bus, compass, class, abbess, princess, convict, socialist, blow, ax, axis, matrix, six, quiz, waltz.\nPlural: limbs, seeds, swords, churches, matches, yachts, witches, varnishes, banks, cannibals, screams, robins, stumps, cedars, saviors, buses, compasses, classes, abbesses, princesses, convicts, socialists, blows, axes, axes, matrices, sixes, quizzes, waltzes.\n\nWrite the indicative present, first and third persons singular, of the following verbs: stab, need, dig, pinch, stitch, watch, wash, fish, drink, deal, dream, lean, grasp, fear, guess, amass, trust, bow, buzz.\n\nFirst person singular: I stab, I need, I dig, I pinch, I stitch, I watch, I wash, I fish, I drink, I deal, I dream, I lean, I grasp, I fear, I guess, I amass, I trust, I bow, I buzz.\nThird person singular: he stabs, he needs, he digs, he pinches, he stitches, he watches, he washes, he fishes, he drinks, he deals, he dreams, he leans, he grasps, he fears, he guesses, he amasses, he trusts, he bows, he buzzes.\nshield, perceive, weird, fierce, shriek, receipt, grief, siege, receive, grieve, thief, mischief, wield, niece, yield, piece, Exercise 10, Study the following words, observing that in all the prefixes is not dis, but dis-: dis-able, dis-advantage, dis-agree, dis-approve, dis-engage, dis-interested, dis-obedient, dis-orderly, dis-organize, dis-own. Exercise 11, Study the following words, observing that in all the prefixes is not u, but un-: un-natural, un-nerve, un-necessary, un-noticed, un-numbered, un-named, un-neighborly, un-navigable. Plurals in s and es, Present third singulars in s and es, Believe, receive, etc. The prefix dis, The prefix un. ALTERNATIVE EXERCISES The prefixes pf and pre, The adjective suffix ful, The adjective suffixous, The suffix ly, The suffixness. Exercise 12, Study the following words, distinguishing between the.\nper, meaning through, throughout, by, for; pre, meaning before.\n\nperceptible, perception, peremptory, perforce, perfunctory, perhaps, perspective, perspiration, precarious, precaution, precept, precipitate, precise, precocious, prerogative, prescription\n\nExercise 13:\nStudy the following adjectives, observing that in all the suffix is not full, but ful: peaceful, dreadful, handful, graceful, forceful, wakeful, shameful, grateful, faithful, healthful, pitiful, dutiful, thankful.\n\nExercise 14:\nStudy the following words, observing that in all the ending is not us, but ous: bulbous, viscous, advantageous, gorgeous, membranous, extraneous, piteous, courteous, dubious, specious, precious, vicious, conscious, fastidious, odious, studious, religious, perilous.\n\nExercise 15:\nStudy the following words, observing that in all the\nsuffix is not y, but ly: final + ly, verbal + ly, radical + ly, logical - ly, ethical + ly, comical + ly, ironical + ly, typical + ly, physical - ly, political + ly, critical - ly, local - ly, real - ly, legal + ly.\n\nStudy the following words, observing that in all of them, ly precedes: accidentally, apologetically, pathetically, terrifically, specifically, emphatically, exceptionally, elementally, professionally.\n\nExercise 16\nStudy the following words, observing which ones have the suffix able, and which ones the suffix iness: cleanliness, drunkenness, meanness, plainness, stubbornness, suddenness, wantonness, sternness, forlornness, leaness, keenness.\n\nExercise 17\nStudy the following words, observing which ones have the suffix able, and which ones the suffixible: abominable, desirable, inscrutable, serviceable, admirable, despicable, inseparable, feasible, advisable, detestable, intolerable, sociable, allowable, eatable.\nadaptable, acceptable, excusable, justifiable, syllable, avoidable, explicable, laughable, teachable, believable, hospitable, movable, tolerable, changeable, imaginable, noticeable, traceable, charitable, improbable, peaceable, treasonable, comfortable, incurable, perishable, unbearable, commendable, indispensable, preferable, unmistakable, comparable, inestimable, presentable, unspeakable, conceivable, inevitable, profitable, unutterable, creditable, inflammable, reasonable, variable, deplorable, innumerable, respectable, vulnerable, accessible, divisible, indelible, permissible, admissible, eligible, indestructible, plausible, audible, flexible, inexhaustible, possible, compatible, forcible, inexpressible, reducible, comprehensible, horrible, intelligible, reproachable, contemptible, imperceptible, invincible, responsible, convertible, impossible, invisible, sensible, destructible, incompatible, irresistible, susceptible, digestible, incredible, legible, tangible, discernible, indefensible.\nStudy the following words, observing which ones have the suffixes \"ance\" and which have the suffixes \"ence\":\n\nabundance, accordance, acquaintance, allegiance, allowance, annoyance, appearance, appliance, arrogance, assistance, assurance, attendance, compliance, countenance, defiance, disturbance, elegance, extravagance, forbearance, guidance, hindrance, maintenance, remembrance, temperance, ignorance, ordinance, repentance, tolerance, importance, ordnance, resemblance, utterance, inheritance, reliance, resistance, vengeance, irrelevance, reluctance, significance, vigilance, absence, deference, impudence, prominence, audience, difference, independence, providence, benevolence, diffidence, indulgence, prudence, cadence, diligence, innocence, reference, coherence, eloquence, intelligence, reminiscence, coincidence, eminence.\n\nThe suffixes: able and ible.\nThe suffixes: ance and ence.\n\nAlternative exercises: hindrance, maintenance, remembrance, temperance, ignorance, ordnance, repentance, tolerance, importance, ordnance, resemblance, utterance, inheritance, reliance, resistance, vengeance, irrelevance, reluctance, significance, vigilance, absence, deference, impatience, precedence, adolescence, dependence, impudence, prominence, audience, difference, independence, providence, benevolence, diffidence, indulgence, prudence, cadence, diligence, innocence, reference, coherence, eloquence, intelligence, reminiscence, coincidence, eminence.\nThe following words have ar endings: bursar, cider, debater, diviser, governor, inventor, legislator, major, orator, producer, scholar, warder.\n\nThe following words have er endings: begger, circular, collard, friar, liar, particular, pillar, vicar, voucher.\n\nThe following words have or endings: advisor, boulder, cylinder, eleventh, elevator, monitor, officer, administrator, conductor, divisor, mayor, anchor, conqueror, endeavor, benefactor, benefactor, corridor, inventor, competitor, disfavor.\n\nar: bursar, cider, diviser, governor, inventor, legislator, major, orator, producer, scholar, warder\ner: begger, circular, collard, friar, liar, particular, pillar, vicar, voucher\nor: advisor, boulder, cylinder, eleventh, elevator, monitor, officer, administrator, conductor, divisor, mayor, anchor, conqueror, endeavor, benefactor, benefactor, corridor, inventor, competitor, disfavor\n\npallor\nwords: proprietor, supervisor, ventilator, warrior, sailor, sponsor, barrel, laurel, bauble, nimble, calomel, mackerel, circle, peddle, cancel, marvel, crumble, ramble, chancel, minstrel, cuddle, rumble, channel, percel, dabble, scramble, chapel, pommel, dangle, scribble, charnel, quarrel, fiddle, scuffle, colonel, rebel, foible, scuttle, corbel, satchel, fumble, sidle, cudgel, scalpel, garble, squabble, damsel, sentinel, goble, straddle, doggerel, shekel, grumble, stubble, funnel, tinsel, hobble, stumble, gospel, tunnel, humble, thimble, kennel, wastrel, idle, treadle, kernel, weasel, jumble, tremble, kindle, trouble, meddle, tumble, mumble, wabble, needle, waddle.\n\nExercise 20: Observe which words end in \"el\" and which end in \"le.\"\n\nwords ending in \"el\": barrel, laurel, bauble, nimble, calomel, mackerel, circle, peddle, cancel, marvel, crumble, ramble, chancel, minstrel, cuddle, rumble, channel, percel, dabble, scramble, chapel, pommel, dangle, scribble, charnel, quarrel, fiddle, scuffle, colonel, rebel, foible, scuttle, corbel, satchel, fumble, sidle, cudgel, scalpel, garble, squabble, damsel, sentinel, goble, straddle, doggerel, shekel, grumble, stubble, funnel, tinsel, hobble, stumble, gospel, tunnel, humble, thimble, kennel, wastrel, idle, treadle, kernel, weasel, jumble, tremble, kindle, trouble, meddle, tumble, mumble, wabble, needle, waddle.\n\nwords ending in \"le\": none.\n\nExercise 21: Write the following sentences, filling in the blanks with \"affect\" or \"effect.\"\n\n1. I do not like her manner; it - me.\n2. An entrance was - by force.\n3. The - of my actions.\n4. The law will take effect in July.\n5. It was an effective remedy.\n6. The hot weather harms the crops.\n7. There was no serious aftermath.\n8. She feigned ignorance of the whole matter.\n\nExercise 22\nWrite the following sentences, filling the blanks with consul, council, counsel:\n1. He was the consul to Japan.\n2. He keeps his own council.\n3. There is a meeting of the council.\n\nThe endings el and le\nAffect and effect\nConsul, council, and counsel\n\nAlternative Exercises\nPassed and past\nSpeak and speech\nBreathe and breath\nIts and it's\nYour and you're\nThere, their, and they're\ncity-state.\n4. He argued for the defense.\n5. They met in the courtroom.\n6. I always go to her for advice.\n7. What would you suggest I do?\n\nExercise 23\nWrite the following sentences, filling the blanks with passed or past. Passed is the past participle of the verb pass; past can be an adjective, noun, adverb, or preposition.\n1. The storm had passed.\n2. He made a past speech.\n3. We took a past breath.\n4. It's a past event.\n5. The sun sets in the past.\n6. The ball was past me.\n7. They were past helping him.\n1. We are at your house. 2. She went to me. 3. He whistled as he passed by. 4. He is a man with a mustache. 5. He is expert at the art of lying. 6. He is in his prime. 7. Many years had passed before he returned. 8. It is getting late.\n\nExercise 24:\nWrite the following sentences, filling the blanks with speak or speech. Speak is a verb; speech, a noun. 1. \u201cI - the truth, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you.\u201d 2. His speech is halting. 3. He will speak tonight. 4. Did you hear his speech on India?\n\nWrite the following sentences, filling the blanks with breathe or breath. Breathe is a verb; breath, a noun. 1. Breathe deeply, and hold your breath. 2. I caught a breath from the sea. 3. Do not breathe this to anyone. 4. She said it under her breath.\n\nExercise 25:\nWrite the following sentences, filling the blanks with: (a) Its (pronoun in the possessive case) or it\u2019s (contraction of it is).\n\n1. (It's) a beautiful day. 2. The cat sat on (its) mat. 3. (It's) a long story. 4. (It's) going to rain soon. 5. Can you pass (it) to me? 6. (It's) a difficult question. 7. (It's) a nice car. 8. (It's) a big house. 9. (It's) a good book. 10. (It's) a great movie. 11. (It's) a nice day for a walk. 12. (It's) a long journey. 13. (It's) a good idea. 14. (It's) a beautiful view. 15. (It's) a nice surprise.\n1. It is raining. The cat has had supper. The clock is in its old place again. It is now six years since the accident. I think it is too late to go.\n2. You are mistaken; it is my fault. My position is assured. I am going tomorrow. I hope they are taking vacation in July.\n3. They are over with it. Their car was stolen. They are back from the trip.\n4. Whose turn is it? There is the man running for mayor. Who is responsible for this? This is whose book?\n5. Write the following sentences, filling the blanks with already or all ready. After each sentence state in parentheses:\n- I have finished my homework already.\n- The meeting will start all ready at 10 am.\n- She has eaten all ready three sandwiches.\n- They have packed all ready for the journey.\n1. We were there. 2. We were to go. 3. How many are to give the answer? 4. He had answered the question. 5. They have gone. 6. He is for the examination. 7. He was with a retort.\n\nExercise 27\nWrite the following sentences, filling the blanks with altogether or all together. After each sentence state in parentheses the construction of the expression supplied.\n1. Our family is all here again. (adverb, adverb)\n2. I am all pleased with the results. (adjective, verb)\n3. You are all too young to go. (adjective, auxiliary verb + infinitive)\n4. I have gathered my material all in. (adverb, verb)\n5. Now, again, the first verse. (adverb, determiner + noun + determiner + noun + determiner + noun)\n\nMECHANICS\nExercise 1\nShow how each of the following words may be correctly divided at the end of a line. For example:\nre-member\nin-com-plete\nA. instrumental, distributive, gratification, dissatisfaction, lexicographer, isosceles, retinue, perspicacious, dis-\n\n(Note: The text seems to be mostly clean, but the last line of Exercise 1 might require the reader to divide \"dis-\" and \"satisfaction\" separately if they choose to divide the words at the end of a line.)\ninterestedness, philologist, maiden, husband, eightieth, despondency, incontrovertibly, amphitheater, rheumatism, changeable.\n\nB. abject, acquit, adhere, belie, concur, defer, disagree, educate, excuse, forget, unreal, invite, mistrust, interest, whose, who's, already, all ready, altogether, syllabication, miscellaneous, prefixes, suffixes, doubled consonants, digraphs, abbreviations, numbers, capitals, italics.\n\nA. obtain, suburban, supervise, repeat, postmark, provide, embed.\n\nC. driven, loaded, inspector, laughable, payment, hurrying, quickly, selfish, stronger, strongest, clearness, memorize, helpful, listless, chemist.\n\nD. possess, cottage, message, cobbler, lesson, mutton, garrison, parallel, prattle, slipping.\n\nE. mother, witchcraft, attachment, clanging, thoroughness, seraphim, checkmate, resignation, triumphant, fleshiness, autonomous.\n\nExercise 2.\nI. He made a survey of Athletics in the Universities and Colleges in the U.S.\n2. When my grandmother was a girl, things were different.\n3. She always adds a P.S. to her letters.\n4. Did you consult Edwards dictionary of non-classical mythology?\n5. Something injured his amour-propre when he was traveling in the East last Winter.\n6. I spent fifty cents for a pattern, $6.80 for my material, and a dollar and ten cents for trimming; so you see that my dress will cost only $8.41. (corrected $8.40 to $8.41 due to incorrect cent sign)\n7. It is a 10-ton load.\n8. 1929 brought us good fortune.\n9. \"You will surely decide to go,\" he said, \"For you will never have such a chance as this again.\"\n10. After each war we resolve \"That these dead shall not have died in vain.\"\nOur country entered the war in nineteen hundred seventeen. You have a hard road ahead: there will be tedious hours of work under an exacting master, perhaps in unpleasant surroundings, and there will be little pay and less honor. The use of the word \"like\" as a conjunction is a very common error. My Chemistry and Math grades were high. The Harvard and Yale are good passenger boats going up and down the Pacific coast. To some southern democrats, all northerners are still black republicans. There was much discussion about the eighteenth amendment. The president of the United States rose to greet the president of our university. The Catholic church was very powerful in the middle ages. Political Science, history, economics, and Spanish have been my favorite subjects.\nHe made his money in the Real Estate business. He caught a large muskellunge. Resolutely, the Mormons set their faces westward toward the Great Salt Lake; the east meant home, but the west meant freedom and high adventure. The Junior class will meet in room ten, Lincoln hall. We have subscribed to the New Republic, The Nation, and the New York Times. There were only three books in that cottage: Darwin's Origin of Species, the Bible, and Ingersoll's The Gods and Other Lectures.\n\nI. Do you know the lay of the land? II. He is lying in wait for a chance to get even. III. You should not disturb a setting hen. IV. He doesn't like the set of the coat on the rack.\n5. If you organize your work, you can get it done faster.\n6. I can't seem to forget that movie. It was a grand one.\n7. He is the kind of fellow who always enthuses about everything.\n8. I guess I'll never get to go places.\n9. The bunch can hardly ever get together anymore, due to our all being in business now.\n10. They aren't putting the blame on the right party.\n11. I am saving up money enough so that I won't have to work my senior year.\n12. If he had done as the doctor said, he might have pulled through.\n13. You cannot make him go without he wants to.\n14. I started working when I was eight years old.\n15. We could have taken in a show on the way home.\n16. She is quite a little better.\n17. It doesn't seem like it's ever going to clear up.\n18. I should have liked to have seen her.\n19. We shall likely go.\n20. Fewer accidents have occurred this year than last.\n21. I doubt he is right.\n22. You will find her in the back of the house.\n23. That is not my thing.\n24. If my father had been there, he would never have consented.\n25. You have nowhere near the right amount.\n26. No one was there but her brother and I.\n27. You came close to drowning.\n28. Sometimes she likes to go and other times she doesn't.\n29. He is the strangest individual I have ever known.\n30. She spent a lot of time on that get-up.\n31. The whole family had mean dispositions and were always quarreling with each other.\n32. You couldn't rattle her.\n33. That's all over with.\n34. I had barely got the door shut than they were at me with questions.\n35. This cottage was superior in many ways to the one\nWe had no complete crop failure on the home farm last year. I worked some in the laboratory last night. She took the vocal from him. He was very disappointed not to go. She answered me that way.\n\nGo with me. With all that your father has done for you, you should be willing to help him now. I see where I shall have trouble. Where did he go? I am real glad to meet you. He was raised on the farm. She raised up and told us what she thought. I've put in a good day's work. He is my best prospect. No one else but her would do.\n\nI feel badly about your being left out. I will do the balance of the work tomorrow. I expect considerable lost in the crash. We have company for supper.\nI have no doubt he will answer your letter. My work is much harder this year. He was not overly pleased with the prospect. Your parents always want you to do your best. His family is located in Iowa. He passed most of us in the course. It is perfectly lovely of you to ask me. He loaned money to students without interest. I will kindly request you to mind your own business. I think that he is kind of foolish. Bring your scissors, needles, and other supplies. The course ends with the fifth century AD. After having waited for her for several hours, I went home. He is an all-around athlete. We have supper at about six o'clock. Besides cooking the dinner, you must wait on the table and wash the dishes. Our parents always tried to treat us children fairly.\n[72. He tried to manage my affairs. 73. He is in good shape now. 74. She seldom or never gets me the right size stockings. 75. I do not propose to do such a thing. V M\u2019K Sir, iM PI I i rWfV m i ;vt A cll - fY V r.!\\K^mi\u00a3(dr' *>-i raft -iii, i. fi/LVjf; mm t l mi WMmm ifM'W. iraiM F'ifl . kt. QX-iHlfW'fi K M el\u2019S M .jgg ''Ofe O AM r'W -Mihm]", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"title": "Around a toadstool table, a child's book of verse", "creator": "Bennett, Rowena, 1896-", "description": "109 p. 21 cm", "publisher": "Chicago, Thomas S. Rockwell company", "date": "1930", "language": "eng", "lccn": "30005148", "page-progression": "lr", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "mediatype": "texts", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "call_number": "5936673", "repub_state": "19", "updatedate": "2019-10-01 13:57:39", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus", "identifier": "aroundtoadstoolt00benn", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-10-01 13:57:41", "publicdate": "2019-10-01 13:57:45", "partner_shiptracking": "158GR", "shiptracking": "ST011602", "operator": "associate-saw-thein@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe2.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "124", "scandate": "20191002133823", "identifier_bib": "00019075394", "year": "1930", "lc_call_number": "PZ8.3.B439 Ar", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-cherrymay-villarente@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20191003121756", "republisher_time": "494", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/aroundtoadstoolt00benn", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t6m122b7t", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "openlibrary_edition": "OL13440914M", "openlibrary_work": "OL20156911W", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156211035", "backup_location": "ia907002_24", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "90", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1930, "content": "A CHILD'S BOOK OF VERSE\nWritten by Rowena Bastin Bennett\nWith Pictures by Lucille Webster Holling\n\nThe Rain\nMeeting the Easter Bunny\nMaying Song\nRubber Boots\nThe Wind Giant\nSpring Carnival\nPussy Willows\nDandelion Bubbles\nWind-Shod\nPan\n\nClouds\nAdventure\nMaking a Rainbow\nA Fable\n\nShell Castles\nThe Crimson Balloon\nThe Sand Castle\nThe Full Moon\n\nLogic\nLady Sleep\nNight\n\nAn Autumn Play Day\nRunaway River\nBoats\nFinding a Dream\nA Brownie in a Mouse Trap\nShoon\nThe Airplane\nThe Zeppelin\nSky Harbor\nRacing the Train\nThe Butterfly and the Kite, A Lullaby for Carolyn, A Conversation with Jack-in-the-Box, Snow, A Modern Dragon, Dream Toys, Come, Ride with Me to Toyland, Valentine People, The Falling Star, Clocks and Watches, Motor Cars, The Fairy Feast is Over\n\nThe Butterfly and the Kite, a lullaby for Carolyn\nAround a toadstool table, I dine with fairy kings;\nAcross the moon-white hilltops, I dance in fairy rings;\nAnd when I sleep, I nestle where fairies fold their wings.\n\nUnder the tent of the sky, the wind cracked its whip.\nThe storm flashed a gun. And the animal-clouds marched one by one Under the tent of the sky. There were elephants, blue, And shaggy white bears. And dozens and dozens of prancing gray mares With their beautiful heads held high. There were soft-footed panthers And ostriches, fluffy. And a great hippopotamus, purple and puffy, Who wallowed in mud-colored mist. There were small curly dogs And camels with humps And a wrinkled rhinoceros, all over bumps, With a horn as big as your fist. There was even a lion Bedecked with a mane Who growled so loud that he turned into rain And tumbled to earth with a sigh. The wind cracked his whip And out came the sun And the animal-clouds passed one by one Out of the tent of the sky.\n\nThe rain, they say, is a mouse-gray horse That is shod with a silver shoe; The sound of his hoofs can be heard on the roofs.\nAs I gallop the whole night through, I met the Easter Bunny on Easter morn at early dawn before the cocks were crowing. I asked a bobtail bunnykin where he was going: \"Tis in the house and out the house, tipsy, tip-toeing, Tis round the house and 'bout the house adightly I am going.\" \"But what is that of every hue you carry in your basket?\" \"Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue; I wonder that you ask it. Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggs and eggs of red and gray. For every child in every house on bonny Easter Day.\" He perked his ears and winked his eye and twitched his little nose; he shook his tail \u2014 what tail he had \u2014 and stood up on his toes. \"I must be gone before the sun; the east is growing gray; Tis almost time for bells to chime.\" So he hippety-hopped away.\n\nCome Maying, Come playing.\nDear ladies, blithe and fair!\nThe bud has burst, the leaf is green.\nThere is no time to spare!\nSweet May has walked across the hills\nAnd scattered them with daffodils.\nCome singing.\nCome bringing\nYour baskets bright and gay.\nAnd we shall hold a carnival\nTo greet the lovely May.\nBring garlands, spring garlands.\nTo strew the waiting street;\nAnd let none pipe who can't impart\nThe magic to our feet;\nAnd let none sing who cannot sing\nSweetly as Pierrot,\nFor May's as young and soft of tongue\nAs in the long ago.\nSo out and in, and out and in\nWe'll dance as light as Harlequin;\nAnd in her robes of Lincoln green.\nSweet May herself will be our queen.\nLittle boots and big boots.\nTraveling together\nOn the shiny sidewalks.\nIn the rainy weather.\nLittle boots and big boots.\nOh, it must be fun\nTo splash the silver raindrops\nAbout you as you run.\nOr scatter bits of rainbow beneath the April sun! Big boots and little boots. You know how it feels To have the white clouds drifting far below your heels; And it is dizzy pleasure. Along the way to school. To walk the lacy tree tops That lie in every pool. Little boots and big boots. How you like to putter In every slender streamlet That scampers down the gutter! How you like to dabble Where the current crinkles And fill the flowing water With new and wider wrinkles; Or stir the yellow clay up To sudden, cloudy puffs That dull the shining surface With muddy browns or buffs. Big boots and little boots. Travel on together. Merrily go splashing Through April's rainy weather.\n\nThe Wind Giant\nThe March Wind strides in seven-league boots Across the snow-patched mountain sides; Adown the ice-bound river chutes The March Wind strides. Beneath a magic cloak he hides.\nHis giant form as he scoots, the helter-skelter rain he guides. He tramples on the tingling roots. His head the scurrying cloud divides. As in his mighty, seven-league boots, The March Wind strides.\n\nSpring Carnival\nPussy Willows\nI came on them yesterday,\nThose newly born pussies, asleep\nOn a branch; each curled up so tight\nIn a fluff of a ball,\nThat I could not see ear-points or tail-tips at all;\nBut I thought that I heard, when the March wind\nWas stirring,\nA soft little sound like the low note of purring.\nI wonder if they would have leaped from their bough\nAnd arched their wee backs with a frightened\n\"Meow!\"\n\nIf I had dared tell them in one warning cry,\nDandelion bubbles,\nSoft and white as down.\nThe fairies must have blown you\nFrom out your pipes of brown.\nThey used the clouds for soap suds.\nThen, tired of their play,\nThey left you on pipe stems for the wind to blow away. A young breeze passed and saw you. Feeling in a huff, he burst you, pretty bubbles, with but a single puff. But fairy breath is magic. I've heard a whisper say your million scattered fragments will turn to gold some day.\n\nIf I had shoes like the shoes of the wind, I should walk on the top of the sea. And the little mermaidens would lift their heads and throw a kiss to me; But no one should stay my hurrying feet. For the shoes of the wind are fleet.\n\nIf I had shoes like the shoes of the wind, I should scamper along the grass. And all would wonder to hear me come, but none should see me pass. For the shoes of the wind are magic shoes and would make me invisible should I choose.\n\nIf I had shoes like the shoes of the wind, I should leap to the sky with a bound.\nAnd shuffle the little white clouds about\nTill the rain fell on the ground;\nAnd oh, I should do such wonderful things,\nFor the shoes of the wind have wings!\n\nPan, the little god,\nHad the face of a man\nAnd the feet of a goat,\nHe, the little god, Pan.\n\nHe lived in the world\nWhen first it began;\nAn odd little god\nWas the little one, Pan.\n\nOh, the merry god, Pan!\nHow he capered and ran\nOn his little goat-feet;\nBut he laughed like a man.\n\nHe laughed as he leaped\nThrough the ferns and the brakes;\nHe laughed as he danced\nBy the shores of the lakes.\n\nHe danced and he played\nOn the pipes that he made\nFrom a reed, till he freed\nEchoes, shrill, from the hill;\nAnd the rill gaily swayed\nTo the music he made,\nAnd the wind as it blew\nCaught the melody, too.\n\nOh, the merry god, Pan!\nHow he danced as he ran\nOn his little goat-feet,\nTo the song of a man!\nOh the wistful god, Pan,\nWhen winds rose to fan\nThe flame of the sunset,\nAnd stars woke to span\nThe hollow of heaven \u2014\nHis dreaming began.\nHe sat very still\nBy the edge of the stream\nOn his little goat haunches,\nAnd what was his dream?\nAlas, I can't tell you!\nNobody can;\nBut somehow I think\nIt was the dream of a man.\n\nClouds\nThe clouds are birds that nest among the stars.\nThey do not sing,\nBut sleep with folded wing\nUntil the wind breaks through the shining bars\nOf morning, crying, \u201cCome!\u201d\nThen, slowly, one by one,\nThey wake and fly\nAcross the sky.\n\nAdventure\nA runaway road passes grandfather's gate\nAnd scampers away to the lea.\nI say to it, \"Please, little road, won't you wait?\"\nBut it only cries, \"Come, follow me!\"\nThe gate whispers, \"Stay!\"\nAnd the swing cries out, \"Play!\"\nBut the runaway road just scampers away.\nAnd I'm so bewitched that I burst into laughter\nAnd leap the low fence to go merrily after.\nI've followed before; so of course the road knows me.\nAnd there is no end to the secrets it shows me;\nA meadowlark's nest that every one passes\nBecause it is hidden so safe in the grasses;\nA cave in the hillside for brownies to play in;\nA nook in the forest for violets to stay in,\nFor jack-in-pulpits to linger and pray in;\nThe haunt of a wood sprite in yonder tree's hollow\nAnd, high on the cliff side, the home of the swallow.\nAnd still the road beckons, and still do I follow,\nTill, all wearied out, I sit down on a stile.\nBut the tireless road hurries happily on\nUntil at the turning it's suddenly gone.\nOh, if it were not for my grandmother's worrying\nI'd travel right on though I'm tired of hurrying.\nI'll see what's behind every twisting and bending\nUntil I had followed the road to its ending!\nWhere does it lead, do you really suppose?\nPerhaps into Fairyland; nobody knows.\nBut when I'm grown up I shall find where it goes \u2014\nShall follow and see all its wonders unfurled.\nIt will lead me adventuring over the world\n\nMaking a Rainbow\nRun, clouds, run;\nHide the shining sun.\nBump your curly heads together\nFor we want some rainy weather,\nJust for fun.\n\nBlow, wind, blow;\nMake the dark clouds go.\nWhen you have unveiled the sun\nAnd the little storm is done,\nBend your bow.\nBend your bow of many hues;\nGolds and indigos and blues;\nThen walk off on quiet shoes.\n\nGo, wind, go.\n\nMrs. C. (Or any other too practical person.)\nShe never met a fairy.\nShe never knew a gnome.\nAnd if she were to travel\nFrom Labrador to Rome,\nThe wee folk, the good folk,\nWould still elude her grasp.\nThe pixies and elves would only look askance at her and titter to themselves. If, in some deserted spot, they took her by surprise, she'd only blame her spectacles or rub her doubting eyes, and say she'd got the dust in them.\n\nShe could knead good bread and bake it light, and in the night work patterns with fine thread. But her knowledge of the fairy folk was sadly limited.\n\nA Fable\n\nA willow tree once bent to look\nAt its own image in a brook.\n\"I am the fairest tree,\"\nshe cried,\n\"In all the wooded countryside I.\"\n\nJust then a rogue wind chanced to pass\nAnd trampled on her looking-glass.\nWhen next she looked,\nshe was not flattered;\nHer mirror and her pride were shattered.\n\nA sea shell is a castle\nWhere a million echoes roam,\nA wee castle.\nSea castle,\nTossed up by the foam;\nA wee creature's,\nSea creature's,\nLong deserted home.\nI if were very tiny, I should walk those winding halls And listen to the voices In the pink and pearly walls; And each mysterious echo Would tell me salty tales Of the phosphorescent fishes And the white-winged ship that sails On the sea's brim Round the earth's rim To the lilting of the gales; Of the sea horse That's a wee horse And frolics in the sea 'Neath the coral White and sorrel That is the mermaids' tree; And grazes on the seaweed And the sea anemone; But my ears cannot distinguish The words it sings to me, The sea shell. The wee shell, I hold so reverently, And I only hear a whisper Like the ghost voice of the sea.\n\nThe crimson balloon was a headstrong young thing; He jostled his brothers and tugged at his string And said to his master, Let go of my tail. And over the tops of the houses I'll sail.\nI'll ride on a cloud and visit the moon (He is nothing himself but a silver balloon). I'll bump him down into this crooked street And shine in his place with the world at my feet.\n\nJust then came the wind with a cough and a sneeze That blew him up into the pin-cushion trees Where, BANG! he collapsed with a terrible sound And wizened and shriveled, he sank to the ground.\n\nThe Sand Castle\n\nI built a golden castle In the sand upon the shore And I hung a silver sea shell For a trumpet by the door; And my castle was so splendid That the wind, in passing by, Walked on tiptoe, lest he crush it And the sea birds, sailing high, Paused a moment, just to see it. For there had not been before Such a stately golden castle In the sand upon the shore; But the sea became an ogre Who rose and trampled o'er wall and rampart, moat and drawbridge.\nOf my castle on the shore. And I even heard him laughing With a kind of guttural sound As he hastily retreated From that drab and shapeless mound. Then I took my tiny trumpet And I thought me of a rune That an ancient book had taught me. And I sang it to the tune Of a witch song, for I realized Only magic could disarm Such an ogre; and an hour Proved the power of my charm. For the tide slipped down to nothing, And I heard a muffled roar In the little silver sea shell That had graced my castle door. I had quite transformed that ogre By the magic of my spell, And he roared, a midget captive, In the hollow of my shell.\n\nIn the bowl of the sky And burst when the first cock woke To cry.\n\nLady\nSleep\nSleep walks over the hill,\nA lady fair and frail.\nWhen evening mists are chill,\nWhen the early moon is pale,\nSleep walks over the hill.\nHer hair is like a veil,\nAnd her feet are shadow-still.\nThe flowers close their eyes\nWhen sleep walks over the hill.\nShe is beautiful and wise.\nAnd the lonely places fill\nWith a hush that is deeper than sighs,\nWhen sleep walks over the hill.\nSleep walks in at the door.\nAnd the leaping fire dies.\nAnd the little lights go out,\nLike tired fireflies.\nAnd the house-dog curls on the floor,\nWhen sleep walks in at the door.\nSleep walks in at the door,\nAnd she neither speaks nor sings.\nBut her breath is sweeter than song,\nAnd folded are her wings;\nAnd the children play no more,\nWhen sleep walks in at the door.\n\nNight is a giant gardener,\nWho does his work on high;\nHis black soil is the darkness,\nHis garden is the sky.\nThe four winds are his shovel.\nThe stars, his scattered seeds;\nAnd when the clouds go blowing by,\nHe's digging up his weeds.\nHe pulls the moon up by the roots, and when his work is done, one great, big flower blooms - what we call the sun. An Autumn Play Day\nOh, Mother, may I go and play? For all the world is playing;\nThe little leaves have run away,\nAnd I can see them straying\nIn crimson shoes across the lawn.\nOr practicing ballet.\nThe shadows play at hide and seek\nBetween the rows of stubble.\nAnd every thistle stem has blown\nA white and foamy bubble.\nAround their holes the little moles\nAll play at blind man's buffing;\nThe wind is turning somersaults\nWith panting and with puffing.\nThe chipmunks play a light croquet\nAnd scamper through the thickets.\nWith partridge berries for their balls\nAnd bended twigs for wickets.\nA dozen squirrels with tails in curls\nAnd feet both swift and nimble\nHave found a little acorn cup\nFor playing hide the thimble.\nI would run and join the fun, without the least delaying. Please, Mother, let me go and play. For all the world is playing.\n\nRunaway river, oh, why are you running,\nRunning and sunning yourself as you go?\nWhy do you dartle and quiver and startle\nThe silver-scaled fish that are sleeping below?\nWhy do you hurry and scamper and scurry\nOver the hill in a torrent of foam?\nAre you not grieving to think you are leaving\nThe beautiful mountain that once was your home?\n\nRiver:\nI go to the ocean, the infinite ocean,\nThe god of all rivers that beckons to me;\nThere to be schooled in the music of motion,\nThere to grow fair in the light of the sea \u2014\nGolden by sunlight and silver by moonlight,\nGray in the dawning and blue in the eve,\nI shall be part of the wonder of wonders.\nWhy should I hesitate, why should I grieve?\nAt leaving my home-land, no matter how sweet, I shall grow wise beneath the dome of the skies, With the moon at my breast and the stars at my feet.\n\nBOATS\n\nThe steamboat is a slow poke, You simply cannot rush him. The sailboat will not move at all Without a wind to push him; But the speed boat, with his sharp red nose, Is quite a different kind; He tosses high the spray and leaves The other boats behind.\n\nFINDING A DREAM\n\nWhere shall I find a beautiful dream? In the moon's cupboard. But how shall I scheme To capture the moon? In the net of a tree. How open the cupboard without any key? Build you a ladder, a ladder of sleep, And when you have climbed it, pluck from the deep Basin of heaven the reddest of stars.\n\nTHIS is the key That unfastens the bars Of ALL the moon's cupboards, so choose for yourself The rosiest dream from the rosiest shelf.\nA Brownie in a Mouse Trap\nI set a little mouse trap,\nTo catch a little mouse.\nBut when the daylight flickered\nAcross my window sill,\nAnd little winds came rustling\nThrough trees where birds were singing,\n1 rose to greet the morning,\nAnd then\u2014what should I see!\nA Brownie in my mouse trap,\nOh, goodness, gracious me!\nI'd caught him by his coat-tails.\nI'd caught him by his shoe.\nHe shook his little fists at me.\nAlas, what could I do?\nToo late I had discovered\nThat it was not a mouse\nThat visited me nightly\nAnd tiptoed, oh, so lightly\nAbout my quiet house.\nI hurried to release him,\nHe was too quick for me;\nWith one heroic struggle,\nHe wrenched his body free.\nHe leapt upon the window-sill.\nAnd like the dandelion down,\nHe blew himself away.\nI kept his little coat-tails,\nI kept his little shoe,\nThe one, it was a maple leaf.\nThe other, a carnation sheaf\n(The tiniest that grew.)\nSince then I have not seen him\nIn coat-tails or in blouse;\nBut should I hear a scuffling\nOf little feet a-shuffling\nAbout my quiet house,\nI would not set a mouse trap\nTo catch a little mouse.\n\nThe frost wears silver slippers,\nThe rain wears mouse-gray shoes,\nBut the ragged wind goes barefoot\nAnd wades in shining dews.\n\nAn airplane has gigantic wings\nBut not a feather on her breast;\nShe only mutters when she sings\nAnd builds a hangar for a nest.\nI love to see her stop and start;\nShe has a little motor heart\nThat beats and throbs and then is still.\nShe wears a fan upon her bill.\nNo eagle flies through sun and rain.\nThe Zeppelin, the Zeppelin!\nHe has a fish's tail\nAnd fish's nose, so I suppose\nHe does not need a sail.\nThe Zeppelin, the Zeppelin!\nHe is a flying fish.\nThe foaming clouds break over him,\nThe little breezes swish\nAgainst him like the sea waves.\nOh, how he loves to swim\nAcross the sky, and some day I\nShall take a ride on him.\n\nThere's a tower at Sky Harbor,\nAnd the tower wears a light\nThat all the planes may find\nTheir way to port at night.\nThey come like homing pigeons.\nThey come from East and West,\nThe light is like a mother bird\nThat calls them to the nest.\nI race him down the platform. The puffing, snorting train. He takes so long at starting That it's not hard to gain At first, but when his steam is up He's haughty as can be; He chuckles hoarsely to himself Because he's passing me.\n\nSpin, Top! Spin! My string is white and thin; You are red and stout; 111 wind you al! about And toss you on your pin. Spin, Top! Spin!\n\nOn Hallowe'en Who would ride a broomstick As the witches do \u2014 Straight across the pebbly stars On a street of blue? I should! I should! Who would take a wildcat With eyes all yellow-green To ride upon his broomstick Late on Hallowe'en? I should! I should!\n\nBroomstick-time On Hallowe'en the witches fly Like withered leaves across the sky Each with a broomstick for a steed That gallops at tremendous speed.\nI. Although I don't approve of witches\nWho wear tall hats and live in ditches.\nStill I am glad there is a day\nWhen broomsticks have a chance to play.\n\nThe Butterfly and The Kite\nFrom a Russian Fable\n\nKite:\nOh, I am a kite\nWith a face and a tail!\nI fly without wings\nAt the front of the gale;\nOver the trees\nAnd the housetops I sail.\nFor I am a kite\nWith a hood and a tail.\nSee that poor butterfly\nDown in the clover,\nBeating her fragile wings\nOver and over;\nHello, Butterfly,\nDon't you wish you were I\nSporting about in the blue\nOf the sky?\n\nButterfly:\nHello, foolish Kite,\nWhy, of course it is true\nThat from such a height\nYou've a beautiful view;\nIt must be delightful\nUp there in the blue.\nYet I should not care\nTo change places with you;\nFor freedom there is\nIn a butterfly's wing.\nBut you, slavish creature,\nAre tied to a string!\n\nThe Lullaby for Carolyn\nSleep, pretty Carolyn, lullaby, sleep \u2014\nAll little creatures that flutter or creep\nOut in the sunlight have now gone to sleep.\nAll little creatures that sleep the day long\nWaken to sing you a beautiful song,\nWaken to join me with chirping and cheep\nIn a \"Sleep, pretty Carolyn, lullaby, sleep.\"\n\nRest, pretty Carolyn, slumber and rest \u2014\nA dream clad in crimson comes out of the west,\nA dream from the moon in silver comes dressed\nSinging, \"Rest, pretty Carolyn, slumber and rest.\"\n\nHush, pretty Carolyn, hushaby, hush \u2014\nThe wind travels by in slippers of plush,\nStepping so lightly no flower to crush.\nSinging so sweetly, \"Hush, Carolyn, hush!\"\n\nRest, Jack-in-the-Box, a dashing young fellow,\nDressed in your jacket of scarlet and yellow;\nYour bow is most courtly, your wit is beguiling,\nI never have seen you when you were not smiling.\nThen tell me, dear Jack, is there truth in the rumor that you are so rapt in your own sense of humor that you are content to be shut in a box with walls that are dark and a cover that locks? That you are content to wait long hours through all for the moment when, leaping to view, you may startle us children by shouting out, \"Bool\"?\n\nJACK:\n\nDear child, I am supple and light as a bubble,\nAnd really don't mind being bent nearly double;\nBut as I'm considered both handsome and gallant,\nI have no intention of wasting my talent.\n\nWhen you and your brothers and sisters are sleeping,\nAnd moonlight and shadow are stealthily creeping\nInto the nursery \u2014 'tis then I come leaping\nOut of my box, with a laugh that is hearty.\nAnd rally the dolls for a wonderful party.\nYou should see my feet as they merrily twinkle\nOver the floor to the jingle and tinkle.\nOf your little music-box, magically playing,\nYou should see the other dolls dancing and swaying,\nThe rag-doll who moves with considerable flopping,\nThe little toy rabbit who dances by hopping,\nThe stiff wooden soldier, the limp paper dolly,\nAll make up a party decidedly jolly,\nBut I am, of course, the most graceful of all,\nI lead the grand march, and the belle of the ball\n(A lovely wax lady from over the sea)\nIs flattered to dance with a partner like me,\nTill the barking of dogs and the crowing of cocks\nSend her to her pillow and me to my box.\n\nThe snow is a bird, soft and feathered and white,\nSilent and graceful is her flight,\nAs she swoops to earth and spreads her wings\nOver the beautiful unborn things:\nSeeds and bulbs that soon will tower\nOut of the nest of the ground, and flower.\n\nA modern dragon,\nA train is a dragon that roars through the dark.\nHe wriggles his tail as he sends up a spark. He pierces the night with his one yellow eye. And all the earth trembles when he rushes by.\n\nA little dream child in a little red dress walks out of the sunset's loveliness. She tiptoes her way through the nursery door and scatters her playthings all over the floor. A ball made of silver, clean-cut from the moon, A cricket's wee fiddle, a shadow balloon that drifts to the ceiling; and ribbons of stars she ties to the curtains or flings on the bars Of somebody's bed; a fairy's lost fan, A whistle the wind made, but dropped as he ran. And even a dream-horse with one hobby-hoof. Who leaps through the window to prance on the roof.\n\nAll of these things, and a great many more. The dream child drops down on the carpeted floor. Then she calls to the girls and she calls to the boys.\nCome, play with my toys. All night I shall leave them, all night you may play. But when it is morning I'll take them away.\n\nCome, ride with me to Toyland,\nFor this is Christmas Eve,\nAnd just beyond the Dream Road,\nWhere all is make-believe,\nThere lies a truly Toyland,\nA real and wondrous Joyland,\nA Little-Girl-and-Boy Land,\nToo lovely to conceive!\n\nThere Christmas fairies plant a tree\nThat blossoms forth in stars\nAnd comes to fruit in sugarplums;\nAnd dolls and balls and painted drums\nAnd little trains of cars\nAll stand and wait for you and me\nBeneath the shining wonder-tree.\n\nSo saddle up your hobby horse\nAnd ride across the night.\nThe thundering of our coursers' hoofs\nWill put the moon to flight;\nAnd when the east is kitten-gray\nWe'll sight that wondrous Joyland,\nAnd at the break of Christmas Day.\nThere was a lovely ladykin, no bigger than a minute,\nWho sat and played a minuet upon a tiny spinet;\nHer hair was powdered white as snow,\nShe wore a dress of long ago\nWith satin flowers in it.\nShe lived upon a valentine\nBehind a paper shutter,\nAnd, though she played so charmingly,\nHer spinet did not utter\nA single sound; but as she sat,\nHer heart was all a-flutter.\nFor just outside her window stood\nA cavalier in yellow,\nHe was a very handsome and\nA chivalrous young fellow.\nHe stood with tricorn hat in hand,\nIn attitude most charming,\nAnd listened to the music with\nA rapture quite alarming,\nConsidering no music stirred\nExcept the soft repeating\nOf his own heart, which played a tune\nIn very rapid beating.\n\"Alas,\" thought he, \"tis blasphemy\nTo blame one's own creator.\nAnd mine a lady artist, too.\"\nBut truly, I hate her.\nIt's unthinkable that she should paint us so far apart.\nIt would have done no harm to draw the lady on my arm.\nBut there she is, inside the folder.\nThrough the window, I behold her.\nYet I cannot go and get acquainted.\nMy knees are far too stiffly painted.\nAnd it would be my own undoing\nWere I to shout my words of wooing.\nSo he stood with pulses burning,\nWhile the lady sat in yearning.\nThey might have stayed that way forever,\nIf fate had not been so clever.\nOne day, a laddie came with skip and hop\nTo the ten-cent shop\nHe bought the very valentine\nWhereon the lovers seemed to pine.\nHe sealed it up, the reckless scamp.\nAnd mailed it with a postage stamp.\nThe postman took it to the gate\nOf Mary Jane, a lass of eight.\nYou should have seen her two eyes shine.\nWhen she beheld that valentine,\nAnd being equal to her years,\nShe promptly went to fetch the shears.\nThen, with a most triumphant shout,\nShe cut out our lovely lady.\nHer mother sighed and gently told her,\nIt was a shame to spoil the folder.\nBut Mary thought it was no folly,\nTo have so nice a paper doll.\nAnd straightway trimmed the cavalier,\n(Her scissors just escaped his ear,\nAnd made some rather awkward slips\nAcross his manly finger tips.)\nAnd though this was of course a trial,\nHe bore it with a beaming smile.\nFor now his barrier was scissored.\nAnd Mary, like a knowing wizard,\nThe couple to her dolls' house carried,\nAnd in great splendor had them married.\nAnd there they lived in love and laughter,\nA happy couple ever after.\n\nI saw a star fall out of bed,\n(Foolish little sleepy head!)\nShe kicked off her cloudy quilt.\nAnd her cradle gave a tilt;\nThe purple blankets of the night\nWere not tucked about her tight.\nSo she fell, her golden hair\nStreaming after, through the air.\nI'd hate to be a star and fall\nWhere there is no floor at all.\n\nClocks can never hide from me,\nBecause the stupid dears\nClick their little tongues so much,\nI find them with my ears.\nI tiptoe through the door\nAnd listen at the keyhole\nOf every bureau drawer.\nI find it by the noise it makes.\n\nWatches cannot play\nHide and seek as thimbles can \u2014\nThey give themselves away.\n\nFrom a city window, 'way up high,\nI like to watch the cars go by.\nThey look like burnished beetles, black,\nThat leave a little muddy track\nBehind them as they slowly crawl.\nSometimes they do not move at all\nBut huddle close with hum and drone\nAs though they feared to be alone.\nThey grope their way through fog and night With the golden feelers of their light. The fairy feast is over now, The stars have sputtered out. I am left in solitude Who dared express a doubt; I who have often feasted here. Beneath the fairy tree, I am no longer one of them \u2014 They have deserted me. I asked how they could be so old And yet so young and wise; They all drew back and looked at me Too stunned to make replies. I asked how magic could be hid Within a foolish rhyme; They said I'd grown too old for them (Who are as old as time). And still I was not satisfied. But begged them to explain Why fairy laughter rippled like The wind across the plain; Why fairy footsteps sounded like The patter of the rain. They ran away and left me here And will not come again.\na  V \nIPV \n^_AT  DOBBS  BROS.  \u00ab  \u00ae  Cp ", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"language": "eng", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "date": "1930", "subject": "Children's plays", "title": "Best primary plays;", "lccn": "35035894", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "shiptracking": "ST011238", "partner_shiptracking": "IAGC155", "call_number": "6893628", "identifier_bib": "00219383277", "lc_call_number": "PN6120.A4 B4", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "publisher": "Chicago, Beckley-Cardy company", "description": "119 p. 18 cm", "mediatype": "texts", "repub_state": "19", "page-progression": "lr", "publicdate": "2019-07-23 11:42:59", "updatedate": "2019-07-23 12:48:46", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "identifier": "bestprimaryplays00unse", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-07-23 12:48:48", "operator": "associate-annie-coates@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe1.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "140", "scandate": "20190802174451", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-cherrymay-villarente@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20190806124226", "republisher_time": "610", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/bestprimaryplays00unse", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t0vr0rb35", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "openlibrary_edition": "OL27260252M", "openlibrary_work": "OL20080245W", "curation": "[curator]admin-andrea-mills@archive.org[/curator][date]20191011182613[/date][state]approved[/state][comment]invoice201908[/comment]", "sponsordate": "20190831", "additional-copyright-note": "No known restrictions; no copyright renewal found.", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156396046", "backup_location": "ia906907_32", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "93", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1930, "content": "Vs A o z* cr o V V s;v v . .VOMtWXA ^ v*cr o K cs* V\nBECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY CHICAGO\nSUPPLEMENTARY READERS\nCloth Bound\nThese books represent a step forward in story-book making, containing fresh material, the kind placed in the best schools of today. Artistically, the books set a new standard. Each book has from thirty to ninety illustrations, which are particularly attractive, and many of which are in colors. Mechanically, the books are superior. The paper used, the large type, and the general arrangement are all determined by careful experimenting in order to safeguard the eyesight of children.\nAnimal-Land Children \u2014 Flora. \u2014 Grades 2-3. $0.70\nBow-Wow and Mew-Mew \u2014 Craik \u2014 Grades 1-2. 55\nA Child\u2019s Robinson Crusoe \u2014 Nida \u2014 Grades 2-3. 65\nThe Like-To-Do Stories (Smith) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\nNixie Bunny in Manners-Land (Sindelar) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\nNixie Bunny in Workaday-Land (Sindelar) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\nNixie Eunny in Holiday-Land (Sindelas) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\nNixie Bunny in Faraway-Lands (Sindelar) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\nNonsense Rhymes and Animal Stories (Doming) - Grades 2-3 - $.65\nStory of the American Flag (Fallows) - Grades 5-8 - $.70\nThe Teenie Weenies (Donahey-Baker) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\nTwo Indian Children of Long Ago (Taylor) - Grades 2-3 - $.70\n\nA new series of reading books, which offers the highest class of literature for all grades at very small cost. No other series at so low a price contains the valuable features of this series, namely: accurate and authentic texts, notes and numbered lines.\nFor reference: Bow-Bow and Mew-Mew - Craik - Grades 1-2 (20 cents)\nPeter Rabbit and Other Tales - Grades 2-3.\nThe King of the Golden River - Ruskin - Grades 4-6.\nRip Van Winkle and the Author\u2019s Account of Himself - Irving - Grades 5-8.\nThe Legend of Sleepy Hollow - Irving - Grades 5-8.\nThanatopsis, Sello and Other Poems - Bryant - Grades 5-8.\nThe Courtship of Miles Standish - Longfellow - Grades 5-8.\nThe Pied Piper of Hamelin and Other Poems - Browning - Grades 6-8.\nEvangeline - Longfellow - Grades 6-8.\nThe Great Stone Face - Hawthorne - Grades 6-8.\nThe Man Without a Country - Hale - Grades 6-8.\nSnow-Bound and Other Poems - Whittier - Grades 6-8.\nEnoch Arden - Tennyson - Grades 6-12.\nThe Vision of Sir Launfal and Other Poems - Lowell - Grades 7-8.\nThe Rime of the Ancient Mariner - Coleridge - Grades 7-H. S.\nThe Cotter\u2019s Saturday Night and Other Poems - Burns - Grades 7-H. S.\nThe Deserted Village (Goldsmith) and Elegy - Gray - Grades 7-H. S.\n\nThree Dramatizations:\n1. The Surprise Party - Marion C. Johnson\n2. A Double Surprise - Marion C. Johnson\n\nThirty Dramatizations:\nFor Little Folks\nBy Rebecca Strutton, Noel Flaurier, Mildred Corell, and Marion C. Johnson\nBeckley-Cardy Company\nChicago\n\nContents\nPage\nThe Surprise Party - Marion C. Johnson - 5\nThree girls\n\nA Double Surprise - Marion C. Johnson - 8\nSix boys and six girls\n\nTen Dramatizations for the School Months\nBy Mildred Corell and Irma Liccione\n[William and the Sandman, A Hallowe'en Nutting Party, Thanksgiving in the Barnyard, Animated Toys, The Snow-Man, The Conscience Elf, The March Wind, Spare the Trees!, A Cycle of the Seasons\n\nSeptember 11: Sixteen children (William and the Sandman)\nOctober 15: Fourteen children (A Hallowe'en Nutting Party)\nNovember 19: Ten children (Thanksgiving in the Barnyard)\nDecember 21: Thirteen children (Animated Toys)\nJanuary 25: Five boys and one girl (The Snow-Man)\nFebruary 28: One boy and three girls (The Conscience Elf)\nMarch 31: Eight or more children (The March Wind)\nApril 34: One boy and two girls (Spare the Trees!)\nMay 37: Twenty-one children (Safety First)\nJune 42: Seventeen or more children (Dr. Blue jay's Patient)\n\nCONTENTS\nA Cycle of the Seasons\n\nSpirits of Autumn\nRebecca Strutton\nThree girls\n\nSpirits of Winter\nRebecca Strutton\nAny number of children\n\nSpirits of Spring\nRebecca Strutton\nThree girls\n\nSpirits of Summer\nRebecca Strutton\nAny number of children\n\nAn April Day\nRebecca Strutton\nThirteen girls]\n[The S'prise Party: A Play for \"Mother\" and the Children\n\nCharacters\n\nMadam Blossom (Mother)\nRebecca Strutton (Various girls: Any number)\nThe Stunt Party (Rebecca Strutton: Girl)\nEight boys and girls\nThe Week Family (Rebecca Strutton: Girl)\nEight girls\nThe First Rehearsal (Rebecca Strutton: Girl)\nNine girls\nA Visit to Fairyland (Children: Any number)\nThe Queen of Roseland\nFourteen or more boys and girls\nThe Doll Shop\nSeven boys and seven girls\nWild Flowers\nThree boys and nine girls\nA Fall Day (Noel Flaurier)\nEleven children\nThe Workers (Noel Flaurier)\nFour boys and one girl\nIn Jack-O\u2019-Lantern Row (Noel Flaurier)\nChildren: Any number\nThe Visit of the Raindrops\nThirteen children\nThe Tale the Fire Told (Noel Flaurier)\n\nBest Primary Plays]\nTwo little girls, Dotty and Mother (an older girl, unnamed), are in the nursery during the present time. The room contains two tables, three chairs, and a couch. As the scene begins, May is on the floor playing with her doll, while Dotty sits in an armchair, pretending to drive a second chair. The nursery is in disarray.\n\nDotty: Whoa! My pony\u2019s running away!\nMay: Shh, my baby is going to sleep!\nDotty: I'm tired of playing horse. Why don't you play with me?\nMay: We'll make a \"surprise party\" for mamma.\nDotty: What's a \"surprise party\"?\nMay: It's presents, candy, and fun. You don't let them know anything about it until you give it to them; that's what makes the surprise. We gave our teacher a surprise, because we love her.\nDotty: I love mamma the most.\nMay: She's the bestest mamma. Now, let's have a surprise party.\nMay and Dotty are preparing a surprise party for their mother. They discuss how to make it neat and special for her. They plan to pick up the room, give her presents, and write her a letter. May intends to give her best doll and a wagon, while Dotty offers her little wagon and some candy. They plan to hide and watch their mother's reaction when she finds the surprise.\n\nMay: We're all ready for her when she comes home, Dotty. How shall we do it?\n\nDotty: I'll give her my little wagon.\n\nMay: And we must give her some candy. [Children pile things on the table at the left.] I'll print a letter saying it's from us. [She gets paper and sits at the table writing while Dotty sits in the armchair watching.] And then let's promise her to be good for a week.\n\nDotty: I'm going to be good always.\n\nMay: So am I. Mamma will like that best of all. There, I've got the letter ready. Oh, I hear her now. Let's hide and watch her when she finds the surprise. She'll think we're gone, and when she finds us, we'll put our presents on the table.\nMay and Dotty hide under the table and chair as their Mother enters the room. Mother pretends not to see them.\n\nMother: I thought I heard voices. Is no one here?\n\nDotty giggles and covers her mouth. May adopts a strange voice.\n\nMay: No, Mother, Dotty and I are away.\n\nMother: I must have been mistaken. Why, what is this on the table?\n\nMay: It's a \"surprise party\" for you. [Dotty hides behind the chair with May.]\n\nMother: For me, oh how lovely! [Reads] \"A surprise for Mother from May and Dotty.\" Why, what dear, generous little girls I have! A doll, and a wagon, and candy. I wonder where they are. I want to thank them and ask them to take care of these things for me, for I never can eat all this candy alone.\n\nMay: Better hunt for them.\nMother is hunting for them. They're not in the corner, nor behind the door, nor under the sofa; they must be behind the big chair. Why, here are some strange children with their skirts over their heads. Who are you?\n\nThe Surprise Party\n\nChildren (giggling). We can't tell you who we are, Mamma.\n\nMother. How queer! Well, perhaps you can tell me where my little girls are?\n\nChildren. We're not allowed to talk any more.\n\nMother. Oh, dear, I hope I haven't lost them!\n\nChildren (uncovering their heads). Don't you know us, Mamma? We're not lost, here we are! We were just fooling you. Do you like your \u201cs \u2019prise party,\u201d Mamma?\n\nMother (kissing them). Indeed I do, it's a lovely one.\n\nMay. I swept the floor.\n\nDotty. I put away the things.\n\nMother. That's why it looks so nice and clean.\n\nChildren. And we've got another present for you,\nMamma: We're never going to quarrel, nor slam doors, nor tear our clothes again. We're going to be good little girls for ever and ever and ever!\nMother: That's the best present of all.\nChildren: We've got one more present for you, Mamma.\nMother: Why, how rich I am; what is it?\nChildren [hugging her]: Forty thousand kisses!\n\nCharacters:\nSix Boys and Six Girls\nTime: The present\nPlace: In front of the schoolhouse\n\nAs the curtain rises, Six Little Boys are discovered on a bench at upper right of stage playing with cocked hats and swords. One of them has a drum. From the other side of the stage, Six Little Girls come running in with their books.\n\nFirst Boy: Hullo, here come the girls.\n[Girls form circle and begin to dance and sing, \u201cHere we go round the mulberry bush.\u201d Boys watch.]\nFirst Boy: Shoulder arms, forward, march! (Singing the chorus of \u201cMarching Through Georgia\u201d loudly) Boys march among the Girls and break up the circle.\n\nGirls: Go away, you horrid boys!\n\nFirst Girl: You make such a dreadful noise.\n\nSecond Girl: You break all our pretty toys.\n\nThird Girl: You tease the cat.\n\nFourth Girl (as Boy jerks her hat): Let go my hat!\n\nFifth Girl: You spoil our play.\n\nSixth Girl (as Boy tweaks a curl): Go away, go away!\n\nAll the Girls: You boys are just the meanest things!\n\nFirst Boy: Boys are just as good as girls. Come on and play, and we won't tease you.\n\nFirst Girl: We don\u2019t want to play with boys. You\u2019re no use, anyway.\n\nSecond Boy (indignantly): You couldn\u2019t get along without us. Why, we protect you!\n\nGirls (laughing): Protect us! The idea!\n\nA DOUBLE SURPRISE.\nFirst Girl: The horrid things are gone. Let's not speak to them all day.\n\nSecond Girl: Oh, that wouldn't be nice. You know teacher doesn't want us to quarrel. Yesterday she said that we girls must set the boys a good example by being polite to them.\n\nThird Girl: But they tease us so much!\n\nFourth Girl: Maybe if we didn't get so mad, they'd get tired of it.\n\n[Boys return to bench and whisper.]\n\nBoys: Ladies, may we have your attention for a few moments? We are knights, brave and true, and we have sworn to protect you from every danger in the land. [Boys wave swords.] We rescue ladies in distress and strive to give them peace and rest. If any dragon ventures near, we will face it bravely and defend you.\nFifth Girl: What are they up to now? They're just trying to be smart and show off. Protect us, indeed! Boys love to boast so. Oh, there's a mouse, and such a big one! [Screams and jumps on bench. Four of the Girls do the same.]\n\nSixth Girl: You're not afraid of a mouse, are you? The mouse won't hurt you. Jump down and we'll drive it away. [Two of the Girls get down.]\n\nGirls: Shoo, shoo, go away, Mr. Mouse!\n\nSecond Girl: Why, it doesn't move, how still it is!\n\nThird Girl: I never saw such a large mouse. Why, girls, there's something white around its neck. I know it's some joke. I'm going to see. It's a toy mouse. [Removes head.] O girls, it's full of the loveliest candy! [Reads paper.] \"To the girls with the compliments of the...\"\nBoys. They thought they'd fool us. Here, quickly, let's empty it and then pretend we're dreadfully scared and turn the joke on them. (They empty candy, replace mouse, and mount the bench.)\n\nFourth Girl. Now, let's all shout for help as loudly as we can.\n\nGirls. Help, help, help! 0 boys, help!\n\nBoys [outside]. We hear our ladies in distress. Courage, fair ones, we come, we come! (Boys enter in military file.)\n\nGirls [pointing]. Oh see, oh see! The dreadful mouse!\n\nFirst Boy. Behold the monster that assails them! Forward, charge! (Boys spring forward with drawn swords.)\n\nFirst Boy [lifting mouse]. The foe is ours! (Kneels.) Permit me to offer you the spoils, fair ladies. (Removes head.) Why, where's the candy? (Girls laugh and show candy.)\n\nFifth Girl. The candy, sir, is very nice. Accept our thanks for it. We're sorry we were cross to you.\nSecond Boy: Well, say, you girls are fine, and we won't tease you any more.\n\nGirls: Well, then, come on and play.\n\n[They all join hands and dance in a circle singing \"We're playing together this bright sunny day, We all love each other, we're happy and gay.\"]\n\nCharacters:\n- William\n- Mother\n- Father\n- Sandman\n- Factory Manager\n- Children (several factory workers)\n- Eskimo Girl and Baby\n- Native African Children (Six)\n\nPart I\nTime: Evening.\nPlace: William's room.\n\n[Discovered: William in bed, crying.]\n\n[Enter Mother and Father.]\n\nMother: You see, Daddy. Here's our naughty boy, who wouldn't go to school today.\n\nFather: What? Doesn't want to go to school? [Turning to William.] Don't you want to grow up to be a fine man? Don't you want to help Daddy some day?\nWilliam: Yes, I do. But I don't want to go to school.\nFather: Then how are you going to learn to read and write?\nWilliam: I don't want to read and write.\nMother: And sing and draw and play, like other children? Just think of poor children in the far East, in the cold North and the hot South. They cannot go to school, and they want to.\nWilliam: Well, I wish I lived there.\nFather: Son, when you grow up you will be sorry.\nMother: Good night, William. You make us very sad.\n[Exeunt Father and Mother, calling \"Good night.\"]\n[Enter Sandman carrying a bag of sand.]\nSandman: William, [throwing sand in William's eyes] would you like to go to the far East with me?\nWilliam: Do children go to school there?\nSandman: Not many.\nWilliam: Yes, yes! Let's go right away.\n\nPlace: Silk factory in Japan. (Part II)\nDiscovered: Children working at silk looms, Manager saying \"Faster, faster, lazy people,\" as he walks around inspecting their work.\n\nManager: Have you brought me a new boy?\nSandman: Yes; this boy does not like his own country because children have to go to school there. He wants to try the far East.\nManager: Here's a place. Get busy. See! Do like this. [Shows William how to weave.]\nWilliam works slowly as Manager continues walking around, calling \"Faster, faster, lazy people!\" striking one boy on the shoulder.\n\nWilliam: I am tired. May I rest for a while?\nManager: Rest? Children work here. They don't rest.\nSandman: What's the matter? Don't you like it here?\nWilliam: No, no. I'd rather try another place.\nSandman: All right. We'll go to the cold North.\n\n[Exeunt William and the Sandman.]\n\nPart III.\nPlace: Cold North, in a snow house. Wind blowing drearily.\n\nDiscovered: Children huddled together in cold room, eating fat on chunks of hard, dry bread.\n\nEnter William and Sandman shivering.\n\nWilliam and the Sandman\n\nWilliam: Oh, I\u2019m so cold! Oh, so cold and hungry. May I get warm and have something to eat?\n\nEskimo Girl: Surely. Here is some bread and fat for William. Fat! I never eat fat.\n\nSandman: But you must eat fat to keep warm up here.\n\nWilliam [trying to eat some]: I can\u2019t. I can\u2019t.\n\nEskimo Girl: Then have some bread.\n\nWilliam: What do you take to school for your lunches?\n\nEskimo Girl: School? We don\u2019t have school here. It is too cold. Our houses are too far apart. How I should love to go to school and learn to read and write! It is so lonely here.\n\nWilliam: Whom do you play Farmer in the Dell with, or other games?\nLondon Bridge. We learn to play games at school.\n\nEskimo Girl. We don't play many games, as no one teaches us, and there are not enough children living nearby.\n\nWilliam [turning to Sandman]. This would never suit me.\n\nSandman. All right, then. Let's go South.\n\nPart TV\nTime: Same\nPlace: Hot South.\n\nDiscovered: Children lolling on the ground, fanning themselves.\n\nEnter Sandman leading William.\n\nWilliam [taking his coat off]. Whew! I can't stand this heat. Is it always so hot?\n\nSandman. Oh, yes. Sometimes hotter. [Turning to Children.] I've brought a boy from a far-off country. He's looking for a place where there are no schools, where he can always play. Will you play with him?\n\nChildren [forming a circle and skipping around William, as they screech].\n\nDoom Ba, Doom Ba, Yookee Yay!\n\nAll we do is sleep and play.\nDoom Ba, Doom Ba, Bookie Bus. We will make you one of us.\nWilliam: Oh, they're so ragged and dirty! I don't want to be one of them.\nSandman [impatiently]: Well, these are children that don't go to school. I can't take you any further. I must go now.\n[Exit Sandman.]\nWilliam [crying]: Don't leave me! Don't leave me!\nChildren [continuing their dance and song, carry William off]-\nWilliam [screams]: Oh, oh! Let me go! Let me go!\n\nPart Y\nTime: Middle of Night.\nPlace: Same as Scene 1.\nDiscovered: William in bed dreaming.\nWilliam [shrieking in his dream]: Let me go! Let me go!\n\nEnter Mother and Father running.\n\nFather: What's the trouble, son?\n[Mother wakens William.]\n\nWilliam [rubbing eyes]: Oh, what an awful dream!\nMother, Father, tomorrow I'm going to school!\n\nA HALLOWE'EN NUTTING PARTY\n\nCHARACTERS\nTom\nJack\nFour Other Boys\nMr. Squirrel\nMrs. Sparrow.\nTom and Jack, along with four other boys, searched for nuts in the woods during the afternoon. Tom remarked, \"Tomorrow is Hallowe'en. We've spent the entire afternoon looking for nuts but haven't gathered enough for our party.\" Jack exclaimed, \"Look! See this tree? There's a hole full of nuts.\" Tom guessed, \"They must belong to a squirrel.\" The other boys urged, \"Come on! Hurry! Fill the bags.\" The boys eagerly filled their bags. Jack suggested, \"There's a good field over there. Let's play ball.\" The other boys agreed. Tom assured, \"The nuts are safe.\" The boys exited, leaving their bags of nuts near the tree.\n\nMr. Squirrel entered, rushing to his hole. He cried out in distress, \"Oh, oh! Where are my nuts? All gone!\" Mrs. Sparrow appeared. \"Why are you crying, little Squirrel?\" she asked.\nMr. Squirrel. Someone has stolen all my best nuts! Now I\u2019ll have nothing to eat this winter. Oh, Oh, Oh! What shall I do?\n\nMrs. Sparrow. Do not cry, Little Squirrel. I\u2019ll tell the Brownies. They will help you find your nuts. You just wait and see.\n[Exit Mrs.-Sparrow singing, \u201cTweet, tweet, tweet.\u201d]\n\nMr. Squirrel. All my work for nothing. I shall starve.\n\nEnter Brownies [dancing and singing to the tune of \"Little Brown Jug,\" or any other suitable song.]\n\nBrownies [sing].\nHa, ha, ha! Happy are we,\nLittle Brownies full of glee!\nTell us what we can do for you \u2014\nThat\u2019s the thing that we want to do.\n\nCaptain Brownie. Well, well well, Mr. Squirrel. What can we do for you?\n\nMr. Squirrel. My nuts! They\u2019re all gone. What shall I do for food this winter?\n\nCaptain Brownie. Do not worry, Little Squirrel. We\u2019ll help you find some more nuts.\n[Brownies scurry in all directions, seeking nuts. The smallest Brownie calls out, \"Here! Here they are \u2014 right in these bags!\"\nCaptain (to Brownies). Quick, my Brownies! I hear bad boys coming. Give Little Squirrel his nuts and fill the bags with stones. We'll teach bad boys a lesson.\nBrownies swiftly transfer nuts from bags to tree and fill the bags with stones.\nMr. Squirrel. Oh, thank you! Thank you, kind Brownies! Thank you!\nBrownies exit as boys return. Squirrel scampers behind tree.\n\nJack. Hurry, fellows! It's almost supper-time.\n\nA HALLOWE'EN NUTTING PARTY\n\nTom. My, my! These bags are heavy. (Takes one bag, handing the other to Jack.)\nJack. Whew!\n\nBoys exit.\n\nPart II\nTime: Evening of Hallowe'en.\nPlace: Jack's Backyard.\nBoys enter, carrying bags of nuts and other goodies for a party.\nTom: Have we everything for our Hallowe'en party?\nJack: Oh yes! Candy, popcorn, apples, and nuts. Brownies (in hiding). Ha, ha, ha!\nTom: What's that?\nJack: Oh nothing, only the wind. Brownies (laughing).\nJack: Sounds like somebody laughing.\nTom: Come on, boys, open the bags and start roasting the nuts.\nBoys: (open bags) Oh! What's this? Stones.\nBrownies (laughing): Ha, ha, ha!\nJack: Someone is playing a joke on us. See here, Tom, this looks like one of your tricks.\nTom: I know nothing about this. Don't try to blame it on me.\n(Enter Brownies dancing and singing.)\nBrownies (singing): Ha, ha, ha! Happy are we,\nLittle Brownies, full of glee!\nTell us what we can do for you.\nThat's the thing that we want to do.\nCaptain Brownie: So you are the naughty boys who stole poor Squirrel's nuts. Poor Little Squirrel, saving his.\nBoys. No, no, no! Jack. We took Squirrel's nuts, but we didn't think how mean we were. We were only thinking of our party. Tom. We're sorry! Captain Brownie. Well, well, well! I see you are sorry. Shall we forgive them, Brownies? Brownies. Yes, yes! Captain Brownie. And now, we have a Hallowe'en surprise for you. If you will follow us, we will show you a fine bunk full of nuts that only Brownies know about.\n\nCharacters:\nOwl\nCow\nTurkey\nDonkey\nHen\nDog\nCat\nGoose\n\nPart I\nTime: The Day Before Thanksgiving.\nPlace: The Barnyard.\n\nOwl. Hoot, hoot, hoot! Look out! Look out!\n\nTurkey, Hen, Cow, Donkey, Goose, Dog, and Cat were assembled in the barnyard.\nTurkey: Gobble, gobble, gobble! What are you hooting about, you would-be wise old owl?\n\nOwl: Hoot, hoot, hoot! Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Be careful, Sir Turkey.\n\nHen: Cluck, cluck, cluck! Yes, I was telling him the same this morning, but Sir Turkey only laughed at me.\n\nTurkey: What if it is Thanksgiving Day? It means nothing to me. Farmer Si knows better than to kill a beautiful bird like me.\n\nOwl: Hoot, hoot, hoot! That is all you are good for \u2014 to be eaten on Thanksgiving Day. You are of no other use.\n\nTurkey: Gobble, gobble, gobble! Not so. I am beautiful. That is enough. All you other birds and animals had better be careful. I need not worry.\n\nDog: Bow, bow-wow! You silly bird! Do you think it is enough to be beautiful? Just see what I do! I watch day and night to keep thieves away, to make it safe for all.\nCat: Meow, meow. I work. I catch mice and keep them away from the house and barnyard.\n\nCow: Moo, moo. I give fresh milk to make little children strong.\n\nDonkey: Hee-haw, hee-haw. I don't forget that I pull the cart bringing the feed we all eat.\n\nSheep: Baa, baa. I give the wool that keeps folks warm.\n\nHen: Cluck, cluck, cluck. I lay eggs for Farmer Si to eat.\n\nGoose: S-s-s. I give soft, feathery down for little babies' pillows.\n\nTurkey (strutting proudly): Yet none of you can strut like I do. Just see my beautiful, fanlike tail. After all, I am the most important of all. Gobble, gobble, gobble.\n\nOwl: To-morrow we shall see. Hoot, hoot, hoot.\n\nAll: Yes, we shall see.\n\n[Part II]\n\nTime: Thanksgiving Day.\n\nPlace: Same.\n\nEnter All but Turkey, each giving his particular call in chorus.\nDuck: Quack, quack, Quack! What's the excitement?\nOwl: Haven't you heard the news? Hoot, hoot, hoot!\nDuck: Which news?\nOwl: Last night, Farmer Si took one of us for his Thanksgiving dinner.\nDuck: Which one?\nOwl: Why, Sir Turkey, of course.\n\nCharacters:\n- Talking Doll\n- Automobile\n- Skates\n- Walking Doll\n- Sewing Box\n- Chair\n- Teddy Bear\n- Puzzle\n- Dish\n- Jumping Jack\n- Violin\n- Book\n- Santa\n\nPart I\nTime: Nearly midnight, Christmas eve.\nPlace: Playroom.\nDiscovered: Toys grouped about the playroom, awaiting Santa.\n\nTalking Doll: I'm sorry it's Christmas eve, and I'm sorry I'm a doll.\nJumping Jack: I'm sorry it's Christmas eve too, but it's worse to be a Jumping Jack.\nAutomobile: I'm sorry too. I only hope Santa Claus doesn't bring Henry another automobile. Just look at me.\nSkates: We're so rusty, we creak like an old wheelbarrow. Whoever heard of leaving roller skates out in the rain?\n\nChair: I believe I'm the most scratched-up looking chair you ever saw.\n\nDish: Here am I \u2013 all alone \u2013 the last, cracked dish in a set that was brand new this time last year.\n\nPuzzle: I \u2013 half gone! No one can work a puzzle with only half the pieces.\n\nBook: I've been so scribbled and torn that there's not a clean spot on me. I'm hardly fit to be called a book.\n\nViolin: No more tunes from this violin.\n\nBest Primary Plays\n\nSewing Box: You couldn't even sew on a button with what's left of me. Fine sewing box I am!\n\nWalking Doll: You're all to be pitied, I know; but no one is worse off than I \u2013 a walking doll that can't walk.\n\nTeddy Bear: How would you feel if you had to sit here, unable to use me.\nAnd just listen, but with no eyes to see? I'm going to ensure other Teddy Bears don't suffer in this house at least.\n\nJumping Jack. Let's tell Santa.\n\nTalking Doll. Yes, let's do that. I wouldn't want another doll to suffer as we dolls have. Peggy is very unkind to us.\n\nJumping Jack. Well, then, does everyone want to tell Santa?\n\nAll Toys. Yes, yes, yes!\n\nSkates. Hush! Do I hear sleighbells?\n\nViolin [squeaks]. Yes! 'Tis he! Be quiet.\n\nEnter Santa with much noise, bells ringing, Toys clinking.\n\nSanta. Ho, ho, ho! Now, let me see. Peggy and Henry live here. [Is about to take something from the bag he has set down, when Jumping Jack springs up.]\n\nJumping Jack. Santa! Oh Santa Claus! We have something to tell you.\n\nSanta [turning quickly]. Well, I thought you toys were asleep.\nTeddy Bear: No, Santa, we stayed up purposely to tell you something.\n\nWalking Doll [wringing her hands]: Please, please, don't leave any more toys here.\n\nSanta: And why not?\n\nAutomobile: Look at me, an auto without any wheels! I was brand new last Christmas, but Henry broke my wheels two days later.\n\nSkates: And we've never been cleaned nor oiled. We've been left out in all sorts of weather. When you brought us last year, you smiled because we were so shiny and bright. Peggy would have another pair of skates looking like us within a week.\n\nSanta [pondering]: Well, well! These children don't deserve new toys.\n\nTalking Doll: Oh, how I wish I were new again!\n\nSanta: I have a solution. I'll make you all look like new. I'll begin right here with you, Talking Doll. Now, what is your trouble?\n\nTalking Doll: I get such headaches because I have no hair.\nSanta: Here's a fine curly wig for you! (Placing it on.) My, but you look pretty!\nSanta: And you, Jumping Jack?\nJumping Jack: My neck is sprained. I can hardly hold it up.\nSanta: That's easily mended. (Puts new spring in neck.)\nSanta: And you, little auto?\nAuto: I'm not much of an auto without any wheels.\nSanta: (attaches new wheels.) Now you'll go.\nSkates: Can you do anything for us?\nSanta: A little polish and some new straps, and a bit of oil. That's all.\nChair: Well, I'm sure I need a new coat of paint.\nSanta: You shall have it. (Paints chair.)\nDish: You can't help me without giving Peggy new dishes.\nSanta: Back to Santa Land you go, and I'll mend you and put you in a nice set for next year.\nToys: O-o-oh! O-o-oh!\nPuzzle: Then I guess I go, too.\nSanta: Yes, come along.\nSanta. I should say so. [Erases scribbling, mends, and puts on new cover.]\nViolin. And I?\nSanta. New strings for you. [Fixes strings.] That's quickly done.\nSewing Box. Oh dear! I'm almost empty.\nSanta. A thimble, needles, thread, new scissors. [Enumerates things as he replaces them.] I think you'll do, now. I can see you need a new spring, Walking Doll. [Fixes her.] And eyes for you, Master Teddy Bear. [Replaces eyes.]\nToys [all together]. Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Santa. [They dance around.]\nSanta. My, but you all look fine, now. I'll write a little note to Henry and Peggy. [Takes out spectacles and adjusts them. Taking out pad and pencil, begins writing slowly. Reads.] Dear children: When I saw how you had ruined your toys that I brought last year, I couldn't leave them in that state. So I have mended and fixed them up as best I could. I hope you will take better care of them this time. Happy Christmas!\nAny new toys for you. I mended last year's instead. I am leaving you some candy and a Christmas tree. When I return next year, if I find you have taken good care of these toys, I will give you new ones. Santa Claus. (He picks up the bag and, leading off Dish and Puzzle, calls,) Well I must hurry, now. I'm very late.\n\nToys (together). Thank you, good Santa. Good-bye. Good-bye.\n\n[Sound of bells.]\n\nSuggestion. Each child might impersonate a toy; but if this is too difficult, he might carry a toy, speaking for it.\n\nThe Snow-Man\n\nCharacters\nJane, Grandfather, Policeman, Ted, Jo, Peter\n\nPart I\n\nTime: Afternoon.\nPlace: A Street.\n\nDiscovered: Ted, Jo and Peter, making a sliding pond, by sliding on the sidewalk.\n\nTed: Some fun!\nJo (sliding): The faster we slide, the better the pond will be.\nPeter: As we slide in turn. We've got to watch for the policeman.\nTed: Here come some people now.\nJo: It's a girl and an old man.\nPeter: Let's hide behind our snow-bank and have some fun.\n(Enter Jane, leading Grandfather who is blind and taps his way with a stick)\nJane: Be careful, Grandfather. We are coming to a sliding-pond that some boys have made.\n(Boys throw snowballs from behind bank. Jane, trying to dodge one, lets go of Grandfather's hand.)\nJane: Oh, oh! The snowball hit me in the eye.\n(Grandfather slips and falls on ice, groaning.)\n(Enter Policeman)\nPoliceman: (helping Grandfather rise) Well, well, that's too bad. I'll help you home. Does it hurt very much?\nGrandfather: My ankle pains, I can hardly walk.\nPoliceman: Too bad. Lean on my shoulder, and we'll get you home.\n(Exeunt all, Jane crying.)\n(Reenter Boys)\n[Ted laughs]. Ha, ha, ha! Wasn't that fun?\nJo. Anyone else coming?\nPeter. Let's make a snowman.\nTed. Yes, let's! Bigger than a real man.\nJo. Come on.\n[Boys work hard for several moments, making a snowman.]\nPeter. Here are two pieces of coal for the eyes.\nJo. Let's put this old pipe in his mouth.\nTed. Oh, you're a beauty!\nMother [calling]. Supper is ready, boys. Come in.\nBoys. All right.\nPeter. We'll come back after supper.\n[Exeunt Boys]\n[Enter Policeman]\nPoliceman. I wonder where those naughty boys are. I ought to teach them a lesson. [Pausing to think]. I have an idea. [Exit.]\n\n[Scene II]\n[Time: Ten minutes later]\n[Place: Same]\n\n[Enter Policeman carrying a shovel and a sheet]\nPoliceman. Now, I'll show these naughty boys what fun is. [He throws the snowman down, then drapes a large sheet over himself and sticking a pipe in his mouth, poses as a snowman.]\nThe Snow-Man\n\nBoys eagerly enter. Peter. How dark it has grown so soon! Ted. Here's an old hat I found for our snow-man. Jo. Give it to me. I'll put it on. I'm taller. (Jo reaches up to place hat on head of snow-man.) Peter [excitedly]. Here comes some more people. Quick with the snowballs. (Snow-man clutches Jo in his arms.) Snow-man. Snowballs, huh? Now I've got you! (Jo screams while the others run in terror. Policeman throws off sheet.) Policeman (catching other boys). Here, you! You want fun? Just think what harm your fun has done today! You've badly hurt an old man on your sliding-pond. You've hit a little girl in the eye. There have been many more people you've hurt today, too. I think I'll take you away with me. Boys (together). No, no! Please! Give us another chance! Policeman. Another chance to hurt more people?\nMother: Mrs. Jones, please stay for luncheon since you're here.\nMrs. Jones: Yes, thank you. We can finish the sewing for the fair.\nMother: I need to send Robert to the store for some things. (Calls out the window.) Robert!\nRobert: Coming, Mother. (Boys exit, discussed getting ashes for policeman.)\nPoliceman: And don't forget, boys, no more snowballs.\n[Suggestion: Several sheets thrown over chairs make a suitable snowbank behind which boys may hide.]\n\nCharacters:\nMrs. Jones\nConscience Elf\n\nPart I\nTime: Morning\nPlace: Robert's house\n\nDiscovered: Mother and Mrs. Jones sitting sewing.\n\nMother: Mrs. Jones, please stay for luncheon since you're here.\nMrs. Jones: Yes, thank you. We can finish the sewing for the fair.\nMother: I need to send Robert to the store for some things.\nMother: Robert, please go to the store for me. I need a loaf of bread, a pound of lamb chops, and a small bottle of cream. Here is a dollar.\nRobert: All right, Mother. I'll hurry right back.\n[Exit.]\nMrs. Jones: Robert is such a fine boy - so willing to help! My Eleanor never wants to go to the store for me.\nMother: But Robert isn't always a good boy. Sometimes he forgets to return my change; and sometimes he loses it entirely.\nMrs. Jones: Oh, I can't say that about Eleanor. When she does go to the store, she is careful.\nMother: Well, we mothers do have our troubles with our children, don't we?\nMrs. Jones: Yes, but we should be thankful that they are no worse.\n\nMother: Here comes Robert now.\nRobert: [entering] Wasn't that going quick, Mother?\nMother: Yes, you are a good boy. Did you get everything?\nPart II\nTime: Evening. Place: Same.\n\nRobert is reading at a table. Enter Mother.\n\nMother: Robert, it is time to go to bed. Better put that book away now.\n\nRobert: Oh, please, Mother. Just let me read three more pages, and I shall finish it.\n\nMother: Well, all right. I'll go on upstairs and wait for you. Don't forget to put out the light. [Exit.]\n\nEnter Conscience Elf.\n\nConscience Elf: Good evening, Robert.\n\nRobert [starting with surprise]: Who are you?\n\nElf: My name is Conscience Elf. I have come to tell you a story.\n\nRobert: Oh, good. I like stories. Sit down, won't you?\n\nConscience Elf: [sitting down] Long ago, there was a poor boy. He was so poor that he had to work hard for his living as a storekeeper in a little store in the country. One day, an old woman bought some groceries at his store.\nThe boy, who was a storekeeper, failed to notice when a woman gave him too much money. In the afternoon, when he counted his earnings, he discovered the error. \"Oh,\" he exclaimed, \"this extra money belongs to old Mrs. Brown. I must find her right away, or she may think that I meant to keep it.\" The boy then walked three miles along a hot and dusty road to return the money. He eventually reached Mrs. Brown's house and returned the correct change to her. This honest boy was named Abraham Lincoln.\n\nRobert: Oh, oh! I know why you told me that story. I was a very bad boy today. I kept five cents of extra change that the storekeeper gave me mistakenly when I went to the store for Mother this morning. The storekeeper gave me two nickels instead of one, and I kept the extra nickel. Oh, oh! What would Abraham Lincoln have done?\ncoln  think  of  me?  I  am  so  ashamed. \nConscience  Elf.  Well,  I  must  be  going  now.  I  have \nmany,  many  other  children  to  visit.  I  hope  you  won\u2019t \nforget  that  story. \nRobert.  Indeed,  I  won\u2019t.  To-morrow  morning,  the  first \nthing,  I  \u2019ll  take  back  the  five  cents  to  the  grocery  man. \nMother  [from  upstairs ].  Robert,  what\u2019s  keeping  you? \nRobert.  I\u2019m  coming  right  away,  Mother. \n[Exit.] \nCURTAIN \nTHE  MARCH  WIND \nCHARACTERS \nMarch  Wind  Nellie  Other  Children,  several \nGeorge,  a  bully  Little  Tim  Teacher \nPart  I \nTime  :  Noon. \nPlace.  School  yard. \nEnter  March  Wind  [capering  and  blowing  as  he  sings.] \nMarch  Wind  [sings]. \nHalloo \u2014 oo !  Halloo \u2014 oo ! \nThe  merry  March  Wind  am  I ! \nHalloo \u2014 oo !  Halloo \u2014 oo ! \nAll  the  naughty  folks  I  spy. \nOo-eeee !  Oo \u2014 eeee !  But  they  never  see  me ! \nMarch  Wind.  Ah !  Here  come  some  children  now.  Kites, \ntoo!  What  fun!  I\u2019ll  stay  here  and  watch.  They  can\u2019t \nGoes to one side. Enter a group of Boys and Girls flying kites. Nellie. How high that yellow one flies! Don't they all look pretty? Little Tim. Look, look! Mine is going higher. Enter George, pushing Tim aside. Look out. You\u2019ll tangle my string. You\u2019re always in the way. Little Tim. But you never care whose kite you tear. George roughly. Get out of my way. Slaps Little Tim, who starts to cry. Nellie putting arm about Tim, Don\u2019t cry, Tim. George, you\u2019re a coward and a bully, to hit a little boy. Come, Tim, the doors are open. We\u2019ll go into school. Exeunt Nellie and Tim. George. Now I have the whole yard to myself. What do I care if I\u2019m late? March Wind gleefully. Now, watch me. Blowing hard. Oo-ooh! George. Oh, my kite! My kite! It\u2019s going. It\u2019s going! It\u2019s gone! Mean old wind, to break my string!\nI'll have to go in now.\nMarch Wind sang.\nHalloo \u2014 oo! Halloo \u2014 oo!\nThe merry March Wind am I!\nHalloo \u2014 oo! Halloo \u2014 oo!\nAll the naughty folks I spy.\nOo \u2014 eee! Oo \u2014 eee! I see them, but they never see me!\n\nPart II\nTime: Afternoon.\nPlace: Schoolroom.\nTeacher. In fifteen minutes, I'll collect the papers. While I am gone, I hope you will work hard to finish your papers. Remember, no copying, for copying is stealing, you know.\n[Exit.]\n\nGeorge. Nellie, let me see that third example.\nNellie. Why, George, that would be copying.\nTim. That would be cheating.\nGeorge [to Nellie]. Oh, teacher's pet! If you won't give it to me, I'll take it.\nNellie. I won't. Stop! [George snatches paper.]\nGeorge. How do you like that?\nMarch Wind blows through window, snatches George's paper and carries it away.\nMarch Wind. 0 \u2014 oo, o \u2014 oo! Here's some work for me.\nTHE MARCH WIND\nGeorge [running back to his seat]. Oh, oh! There goes my paper out of the window. That mean wind again! Now what am I going to do?\nAll the Children [in chorus]. Serves you right for trying to copy.\n[Children listen as March Wind is heard singing outside.]\nMarch Wind [sings].\nHalloo \u2014 oo! Halloo \u2014 oo!\nThe merry March Wind am I!\nHalloo \u2014 oo! Halloo \u2014 oo!\nAll the naughty folks I spy.\nOo \u2014 eee! Oo \u2014 eee! You\u2019d better look out for me!\n[Exit.]\n\nSPARE THE TREES\nExercise for Arbor Day\n\nCHARACTERS\nJohn and Joan, twins\n\nScene I\n\nTime: Afternoon.\nPlace: Woods.\n\nJoan. Look, John, what pretty violets! Let's pick a large bunch and surprise Mother.\nJohn. All right. [They stoop to pick violets.]\nJoan. Look, here are some white ones! Aren't they pretty? [After a pause.] Oh, I am getting tired. Let's do something else for a while.\nJohn: I have an idea. This new penknife Father gave me on my birthday. Let's cut our initials on all these trees before we go home.\n\nJoan: Yes, let's. I'll cut mine, then you put yours underneath.\n\nJohn: Let's start with this little maple tree. [They cut deeply into tree.]\n\nJoan: Now, whenever we come here to play, we can always find this tree.\n\nJohn: Let's get some birch-bark and make postcards when we get home.\n\nJoan: There's a fine birch tree over there. [They pull bark in large pieces off of tree.]\n\nJohn: Guess we have enough now for a dozen postcard.\n\nJoan: O John! Before we go home, let's pick some big branches full of cherry buds. They smell so sweet.\n\n[They tear off large branches, ruining the cherry tree.]\n\nJohn: Let's go now.\n\nJoan: Yes, it's getting late.\n\nJohn: But before we go, I am going to stop at the little pond.\nThey stop for a drink. Part II Time: Several months later. Place: Same. Joan: Let's find the little tree that we cut with our initials. John: It was a maple tree, wasn't it? Joan: It ought to be right about this spot. John: Why, here it is \u2014 all withered, with just this stump and the initials on it. Joan: O John, do you think the little tree died because we cut out initials into it? John: How should I know? Joan: Oh well, let's get the birch-bark. John: Joan, look! The birch tree is dead, too. Joan: And it was such a beautiful tree! I wonder why it died. John: Anyway, we can see if the cherries are ripe enough to take home. Joan: Why, John, there isn't even a green cherry on it!\nWatersprite: Don't touch my water.\nJohn and Joan: Why not?\nWatersprite: Everything I have seen you touch has been harmed. A few months ago, you cut your initials in a little maple tree. You cut so deep that the little tree died. Then you pulled big pieces of bark off a pretty birch tree. The birch tree died too. After that, you broke several branches off the cherry tree. The poor tree was so busy getting well, that it could bring no cherries this year. Now I will not let you drink my water. I am afraid you will harm it some way.\nJoan: [beginning to cry] Oh \u2014 oh \u2014 oh! I am so sorry! I did not think I could be so mean. But I did not understand. I did not know I was harming the trees.\nJohn: Neither did I. Will you ever forgive us?\nJoan: Can't we help the trees some way?\nWatersprite: There is nothing you can do now to help.\n[Old Witch] Ha ha ha! Hi hi hi! I am Old Witch Carelessness! Where I go, I bring woe. Ha ha ha! Ho ho ho! [Fairy] What are you saying? [Old Witch] I'm just having a good time watching careless people. [Fairy] What are you doing here? [Old Witch] Just passing through.\n\nJohn and Joan, here's a way to make up for the damage: Save some seeds until next spring and plant them. Take care of them, and you'll have beautiful trees someday.\n\n[Joan] Thank you, kind friend.\n\n[John] We will never forget you.\n\n[Exeunt.]\n\nSafety First\n\nCharacters:\nOld Witch (Carelessness)\nFairy (Safety First)\nCharles\nJames\nMrs. Jones\nWillie\nMary\nSusan\nFred\nDick\nFour Boy Scouts\nThree Girl Scouts\nTwo Policemen\nA Man\n\nPart I\n\n[Old Witch enters]\n\nOld Witch: Ha ha ha! Hi hi hi! I am Old Witch Carelessness! Where I go, I bring woe. Ha ha ha! Ho ho ho!\n\nFairy: What are you saying?\n\nOld Witch: I'm just having a good time watching careless people.\n\nFairy: What are you doing here?\n\nOld Witch: Just passing through.\nFairy: People. They are my people. What are you doing and who are you?\n\nFairy (called Fairy Safety First): I am Fairy Safety First. I help people to be careful.\n\nWitch: Ha ha ha! Hi hi hi! There are ten times as many careless people as careful ones.\n\nFairy: Oh, no. Every day people are learning to be more careful.\n\nWitch: Well, we\u2019ll not fight about it. I have an idea. Let\u2019s sit back here and watch for a while. We\u2019ll play a game. I\u2019ll count the careless people for my score. You count the careful people on your side. At the end of an hour we\u2019ll count our points and see who wins, you or I.\n\nFairy: I am willing. Here\u2019s a good place where no one can see us.\n\n[They sit at the rear, invisible.]\n\nEnter Charles and James, fighting.\n\nCharles: So you think you can beat me, do you?\n\nJames: Yes, I can.\n\nCharles: [giving him a blow]. How do you like that?\nJames: Look out or I'll call my brother!\nCharles: I thought you could lick me?\nJames picks up a stone and throws it at Charles, then runs away.\nCharles: Oh, my eye! (exits crying)\nWitch: There's one point for me \u2014 boys who throw stones.\nHi, hi hi, maybe that boy will lose his eye.\nFairy: Shh! Here come some people, now.\n(Enter Mrs. Jones, carrying packages in one arm, leading Willie with the other hand, from one direction. Mrs. Brown enters from the opposite direction)\nMrs. Jones: Good morning, Mrs. Brown. How are you?\nMrs. Brown: Fine, thank you. How are you feeling?\nMrs. Jones: Oh, so-so. Cross just now. When I take Willie out with me, he frets so, he makes me very nervous.\nMrs. Brown: Yes, children are a nuisance to take shopping.\nWillie: Mama, I'm hungry.\nMrs. Jones: Here, eat this banana (taking one out)\nMrs. Brown: And be still for a moment. Ensure you eat it slowly.\nWillie: (goes a few steps ahead, peels his banana and throws peeling on the ground.)\nMrs. Brown: Well, I must be going.\nMrs. Jones: Good-bye, Mrs. Brown.\nMrs. Brown: Drop in to see me.\nSafety First\nMrs. Jones: Yes, I will. (She slips on banana peel and falls.) Wait till I get Willie.\n(Exit limping.)\nWitch: Ha ha ha, ho ho ho! Lucky she didn't break her toe. Another point for me. Children who throw banana peels on the ground.\nFairy: My points will come soon.\nEnter Mary, crying. She meets Susan.\nSusan: What is the matter, Mary?\nMary: Oh, something terrible has happened. My sister Anne was taken to the hospital. She was run over by a car.\nSusan: How did it happen?\nMary: It was really her own fault. She was roller skating in the road.\nWays tells me never to play in the road. Mary. Well, I must go on, Susan. I\u2019ve plenty to do, now, to make up for Anne.\n\nExeunt both.\n\nWitch. Three points for me: children who play in the road. So far no points for you.\n\nEnter Fred, large boy, and Dick, small boy.\n\nFred. Here\u2019s a good place to dive into the river. Come on, Dick, now watch me. [Fred dives into the water.]\n\nDick. Oh, no! I am afraid.\n\nFred. The water\u2019s fine. Come on. I\u2019ll go on without you if you don\u2019t hurry.\n\nDick. Mother told me never to swim in the river. Let\u2019s go to the pool.\n\nFred. Oh, afraid cat, afraid cat. Come on.\n\n[Dick wavers, then plunges in.]\n\nBEST PRIMARY PLAYS\n\n[After a pause, suggesting that boys were carried downstream, cries of \u201cHelp! Help!\u201d are heard.]\n\nWitch. There\u2019s another point for me. Boys who swim in a river. Now, where are all your points? I have four.\n\nHa, ha, ha!\nMrs. Jones: Pick up that banana peel before someone slips on it.\nWillie: Yes, mama. Where shall I put it?\nMrs. Jones: Hold it until we pass a garbage can. Then drop it in.\n\n[Exeunt.]\n\nFairy: One point for me - people who have learned a lesson and don't forget it.\n\nEnter Four Boy Scouts carrying Dick, unconscious, Fred following behind\n\nFirst Boy Scout: Here, put him down flat on his stomach. [Boy Scouts work over Dick.]\n\nSecond Boy Scout: I wonder how it happened.\nFred: It was all my fault. I coaxed him to swim in the river. Oh, oh! Will he die?\nThird Boy Scout: Perhaps not.\nFourth Boy Scout: He is breathing now.\nBoy Scouts: He'll live.\nFred: Oh, oh! Dick, Dick!\n[Dick moves.]\n\nFirst Boy Scout: We'd better hurry him home now.\nWhere does he live? Following me, I'll show you. [Exeunt All.]\nFairy: That's two points for me \u2013 Boy Scout workers.\n\nEnter Three Girl Scouts.\nFirst Girl Scout: Let's go to the hospital and see how Anne is getting along. You know she was run over this morning by a car.\n\nSecond Girl Scout: Perhaps we can make a Girl Scout out of her. Then she'll keep others from getting hurt instead of getting hurt herself.\n\nThird Girl Scout: [Agrees]\n[Exeunt Girl Scouts.]\n\nFairy: That's three points for me \u2013 Girl Scout Workers. It looks as though I might win after all. The time isn't up yet.\n\nEnter Two Policemen.\nCaptain: Well, Sergeant, I have put four more traffic policemen on duty. That means there ought to be fewer accidents.\n\nSergeant: All right, Chief. Just show me the corners they are to watch. I'll see that they get there.\n[Exeunt Policemen.]\nFairy: Four points for me \u2014 we need more traffic policemen. Now we are even.\n\nWitch: Someone's coming now. We have but a minute more.\n\nFairy: Hurrah. It's one of my people.\n\nWitch: How do you know?\n\nFairy: It's a man carrying signs reading: \"KEEP TO THE RIGHT.\" He's been posting these signs all over the city.\n\n[Man stops and posts a sign.]\n\nFairy: Old Witch Carelessness, today I win. Safety First wins!\n\n[Witch slinks away.]\n\nCharacters:\nQueen Rose\nJack Rose, Pink Rose, Tea Rose, and Rosebud, her four children\nNurse Black-eyed Susan\nViolet\nMorning-glory\nSentinel Sunflower\nDr. Blue jay\nDr. Sparrow\nMessenger Honeybee\nBluebell and as many other flowers as desired\n\nPart I\nTime: Sunrise.\nPlace: A garden.\nAll the Flowers standing primly in rows, Sentinel Sunflower a bit apart. Sentinel Sunflower. 'Tis waking time, Bluebell. There are no spying eyes. Ring, Bluebell, ring. Bluebell. Ding, dong, ding! Wake, flowers, all! Ding, dong, ding! All Flowers stretch and rub their eyes. Some yawn. They then skip from their places and form a circle about Queen Rose and her children, who have been standing in the front row. Dancing and swaying, they sing. All Flowers together sing. Dance and sing, Glad and gay, Flowers greet Another day. Homage give To our queen, The sweetest flower We've ever seen.\n\nThey all curtsy before the Rose. Sentinel Sunflower, who has not joined in the dance, Quick, flowers, someone comes. Flowers scurry back to their places and assume prim attitudes.\nSentinel Sunflower (hired man): going by the back road. All Flowers (Violet): Oh! Queen Rose, you look rather sad this morning.\n\nQueen Rose: I am sad, Violet. My children worry me. Jack Rose cannot keep up with his studies at school; Pink Rose is always a bit too pale; Tea Rose is apt to be nervous; and even Rosebud, small as she is, is not growing neatly.\n\nBlack-Eyed Susan: That's right, dear Queen. I think we should call the Doctor.\n\nViolet: I would, if I were you.\n\nMorning-Glory: He might be able to suggest something. Shall I tell Honeybee to call him for you?\n\nRose: I wish you would.\n\nMorning-Glory: Sentinel Sunflower, if you see Honeybee, just beckon to him.\n\nSentinel Sunflower: Here he comes now. Honeybee, Honeybee, come hither!\n\n(Enter Honeybee circling and buzzing.)\nPart II\nTime: Evening.\nPlace: Same.\n\nDiscovered: Flowers standing in rows as before, all but Jack Rose and Tea Rose fidgeting, Rosebud looking bedraggled.\n\nEnter Dr. Bluejay and Dr. Sparrow\n\nDr. Bluejay: I'm sorry, good Queen, to be so late. I was far away when Honeybee found me and I hurried as fast as I could. I brought Dr. Sparrow with me in case there should be anything seriously wrong.\n\n[Dr. Sparrow bows.]\n\nQueen Rose: I'm so glad to see you both. I don't think there is anything seriously wrong yet. But I want the children to grow strong, and they worry me a bit.\n\nDr. Bluejay: One, two, three. Only three! Where's the fourth child? Where's Jack Rose?\nRose. He's out playing. I sent Nurse Black-eyed Susan for him.\nDr. Bluejay and Dr. Sparrow nodded wisely and shook their heads.\n\nDr. Bluejay. Playing at this time of night? Why, he should have been in bed hours ago. Doesn't he know that young folks need plenty of sleep to keep them bright and well?\n\nRose. I try to tell him, but he won't always listen. Maybe that's what makes him dull at times.\n\nDr. Bluejay and Dr. Sparrow nodded and shook their heads again.\n\nDr. Bluejay. You make him go to bed early every night, and you'll see how he'll improve.\n\nRose. Thank you, I shall. Here's Pink Rose. She's always pale and thin.\n\nDr. Bluejay turned to Pink Rose. What does she eat?\n\nRose. I'm afraid she doesn't eat the most nourishing things. She likes sweets.\nDr. Bluejay: Sweets are all right occasionally, but no one can be really beautiful and strong who lives on sweets. Little girl, if you want to be pretty, eat the right food.\n\nRose: I'm afraid I haven't been strict enough about her food because she always finds some reason to dislike so many good foods.\n\nDr. Bluejay: Watch her food in the future.\n\nRose: Here's Tea Rose. She's so nervous and cross.\n\nDr. Bluejay: Well, well, little lady! Nervous? And do you eat your food slowly? And do you drink your water slowly? And drink plenty of it? And do you rest during your play? Or do you just go racing about until you are very, very tired? Do you try to see the beautiful things about you? Or do you get cross with people for no reason?\nI. Tea Rose: \"I'm afraid, Dr. Bluejay, that I don't try hard enough to be quiet and pleasant. [Pauses in shame.] Dr. Bluejay: Well, cheer up. If you try to be healthy and pleasant and don't find fault with people, you'll find you won't be so nervous. Rosebud: Oh please, Dr. Bluejay, don't scold me. I know you'll say I don't wash my face as often as I should, nor clean my teeth, nor brush my clothes. Don't scold me, please. I'll try so hard to be clean and neat. Dr. Bluejay: Yes, do try real hard. If one doesn't begin when one is young, one will never grow to be neat.\n\nSentinel Sunflower: Quick, everyone! Here comes the gardener.\n\n[Dr. Bluejay and Dr. Sparrow fly off, while Flowers clasp hands beneath chins as though asleep.]\n\nCURTAIN\n\nCHARACTERS:\nTea Rose\nDr. Bluejay\nDr. Sparrow\nSentinel Sunflower\nRosebud\nFlowers.\nSeptember Shade, October Sprite, November Drizzle\n\nSetting and Costumes:\nOutdoor effect \u2014 all green.\n\nSeptember Shade should be dressed in green crepe paper, with a chaplet of Jeaves on her head, and should carry a branch of foliage with which to make the refreshing breeze referred to in the second line.\n\nOctober Sprite wears the autumn tints, red and yellow, crepe paper, and carries a short wand draped with fringed paper, which should be used actively.\n\nNovember Drizzle should be dressed in a dark gray paper camisole, trailing robe, with hair hanging. She carries a paper-trimmed wand.\n\nAll stockings should match dresses, except those of November Drizzle, which may be black. No shoes are worn.\n\nSeptember Shade enters from the left and speaks, using appropriate gestures.\n\nSeptember Shade:\nGood morrow, good morrow, dear guests, one and all!\nA breath, so refreshing, now comes at my call.\nMy garments are all of the woodland's dark green;\nSummer's now gone - 'twas a lovely, soft dream.\nListening attitude.\nWith finger upraised, now listen - now hush!\nJack Frost is soon coming, with colors and brush,\nTo paint this old world a more marvelous hue,\nWith the sky above turning a still deeper blue.\nThe harvest's advancing with wealth of ripe grain,\nRich wines will be pressed from the fruits once again.\nSpirits of Autumn\nLittle ones turn now to desk and to study.\nThe autumn air brushes their cheeks till they're ruddy.\nI'm herald of autumn - my name is September;\nThe others, you know, are October, November.\nExit right.\n\nOctober Sprite enters at left. She is very active with wand all through.\n\nOctober Sprite.\nI'm a wonderful, colorful, charming young sprite,\nI care not for dull things - I love all that's bright!\nThe yellows and reds are my colors, you know!\nThe frosty wind whips lip and cheek to a glow!\nDances, throws leaves.\nCome, dance with me, prance with me, lift the foot higher,\nNow throw on more leaves for a bigger bonfire;\nThe flush of the lip and the flash of the eye\nBetoken the fact that old Jack Frost is nigh.\nLet ghosts come, and goblins, with Hallowe\u2019en tricks,\nWith such motley spirits I gladly will mix!\nI\u2019ve a harvest of fruit and of nuts and of grain,\nMy successor has come \u2014 I must leave you, 'tis plain.\n[Exit right.]\n\nNovember Drizzle enters from left, with gray robe trailing,\nand speaks mournfully in first four lines, gradually brightening.\n\nNovember Drizzle.\nOh, I\u2019m but a drizzle, as plain as plain can be,\nBut that I\u2019m quite useful you\u2019ll very soon see.\n[Shakes wand up and down.]\nI must water the earth \u2014 just soak it, you know.\nBefore it is covered by Winter's deep snow,\nOctober is so bright and so sparkling and dear;\nBest Primary Plays\nDecember next claims the best day of the year.\nSo what shall I do, to emerge from the mire?\nTo meet your approval, is my great desire.\nIf most of my time I am cloudy and drear,\nYou know at the last, I am apt to be clear!\nFor that let's be thankful, and other things, pray,\nLet's all be quite thankful, on Thanksgiving Day!\n\nCurtain\n\nSpirits of Winter\n\nCharacters\nDecember Spirit, Narrator, young girl\nJanuary, Greetings Children, small\nFebruary, Valentine\n\nSetting and Costumes\nIndoor Christmas settings, preferably white walls, with holly or any other suitable border. General Christmas appearance. There must be a star in evidence. The same setting will do for January. For February, there must be a picture of Washington hanging somewhere in the room.\nDecember Spirit should be dressed in a long, trailing white robe, with hair hanging, a gilt band around head, and wings of some sort.\nJanuary Greetings should be represented by a small child dressed as the usual little New Year spirit, with a wide girdle, out of which he draws the greetings, one by one, handing them to the young girl, who recites the lines for January.\nFebruary \"Valentine, coming in as if from the cold, should be dressed in a warm coat and furs.\"\n\nDecember Spirit enters at left and points to the star.\n\nDown the ages comes a story,\nThe story of a star,\nThat rested o'er a stable,\nIn Bethlehem, afar.\nThe light shone on the cradle\nOf a kingly little babe.\nThere wise men came to seek him,\nStayed to worship, unafraid.\nThe joy bells started ringing,\nNineteen hundred years ago,\nStill tell the wondrous story\nThat sets the eye aglow.\nChildren enter carrying gifts.\nBEST PRIMARY PLAYS\nIn the heart of every child on earth,\nThe great desire of giving appears,\nGenerous, loving Christmas cheer,\nAs in the old, sweet carols,\nIn the snowy Christmas dawn,\nChristmas spirit is now ringing\nThrough each blessed Christmas song.\n[Assumes listening attitude while voices in the distance sing one verse of While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night.]\n[Exit right.]\nNew Year Greetings enters left, handing messages to Narrator, who speaks the following lines.\nNarrator:\nEnter, snowy New Year!\nI hear your gentle knock;\nYou\u2019re welcome to my sanctum,\nFor you all doors unlock.\nAh, January, thank you.\nFor all these greetings, dear!\n[Beading messages.]\nHere's hope that I'll be happy,\nHere's hope that I'll find cheer.\nOne hopes that I'll have joy,\nOne cheers with hopes of wealth.\nNow one hopes that I will marry - This one wishes me good health. But listen, darling New Year, [New Year assumes listening attitude.] This last is best of all, This greeting, blessed New Year, Trusts I'll answer love's sweet call.\n\nSpirits of Winter\nFebruary Valentine enters left and looks over valentines.\nFebruary Valentine.\nThe last month of the winter,\nOf ice and frost and snow,\nWe'll tap the good old maple\nAnd watch the crocus grow.\nSt. Valentine is coming,\nThat dear, beloved saint;\nThe friend of all the lovelorn\nBrings valentines so quaint.\n[Shows one.]\nTwo hearts are always joined\nWith dart so straight and true;\nThe Father of our Country\nCelebrates a birthday, too.\n[Waves small flag.]\nOnce again we wave our emblem,\nFlag of red and white and blue,\nAnd we're thankful Spring is coming.\nAre you not I, and you not he, and he not they?\n\nCurtain\n\nSpirits of Spring\n\nCharacters\n\nMarch Wind (an older girl), April Showers, May Flowers\n\nSetting and Costumes\n\nGarden scene with flower bed of ten or twelve little girls dressed in belted slips of green crepe paper. Large upstanding bows of different colored ribbon should be fastened on their heads, on which should be worn pointed green caps extending over their faces.\n\nMarch Wind (an older girl) should be dressed in a dark gray crepe paper skirt, over which should be worn a dress of dark gray paper cambric, fringed part way with loose folds around the head; she wears her hair hanging.\n\nApril Showers should be dressed in light gray paper cambric, fringed over white; head dressed same as March Wind; she carries a short pole covered with fringed cambric.\n\nBreezy music should herald the approach of March Wind.\nI'm a blustering, bellowing, noisy chap,\nFor shutters and bolts, I care not a rap;\nBy gestures, I carry out the spirit of verse.\nI twist the trees until they moan,\nI shake the house till you hear it groan;\nI tear the clouds from the face of the moon\u2014\nThen I spread them o'er the sun at noon.\nI blow the dust in the traveler's eye,\nAnd then I blacken the bluest sky.\nIf there's a fire, I fan and fan,\nAnd just cause all the trouble I can.\nAt the beginning or end, I'm Lion or Lamb;\nI'm blamed for all the woes of man!\nBut in my state, there's a saving grace,\nFor soon or late, I'm sure to give place\n\nTo gentle, refreshing April Showers,\nWhich herald the coming of sweet May Flowers.\nApril Showers approaches, stepping among May Flowers and shaking wand over them as she speaks soothingly.\n\nApril Showers:\nPoor little battered and beaten flowers,\nLook up and welcome the April Showers!\nUncover your heads, reveal your faces,\nUnfurl your colors and show your graces;\nThe clouds have sent refreshing rain \u2014\nNow don't stay covered as if in pain.\nThrow up your heads and laugh with glee,\nAs though as happy as happy can be!\nWe're calling \u2014 we're calling \u2014 we, April Showers!\nCome forth! Come forth! 0 sweet May Flowers!\nMay Flowers:\nWe're sure we hear somebody calling \u2014 calling \u2014\nAnd now our dark covers are falling \u2013 falling.\nLong months we\u2019ve lived in darkest night,\nBut now we\u2019re coming back to the light.\nMarch Winds and April Showers are gone,\nBut they sang a lovely, awakening song;\nThrough them our bonds are severed \u2013 we\u2019re free!\n\nVery grateful and happy May Flowers we are!\n\nSPIRITS OF SUMMER\n\nCHARACTERS\nJune Rose\nJuly Sunshine\nAugust Heat\nElderly Couple\nBride\nGirl with Flag\nFlower Girls (two)\nChildren (several small ones)\n\nSETTING AND COSTUMES\nOutdoor effect, with masses of green and plenty of roses.\n\nJune Rose wears a rose-colored crepe paper dress, with dull green flounces extending about six inches below; green stockings, no shoes.\nJuly Sunshine is in a yellow crepe paper dress with a cap of the same, also a small wand with paper fringes about ten inches deep.\nAugust: A woman wears a filmy, white, trailing dress (cheesecloth will do), as well as a wreath and girdle of green with small white flowers scattered through. Use riotous music for June Rose's entrance, changing to a wedding march in lines six to nine. During this, a June Bride passes across the back of the stage to the left, preceded by two small Flower Girls who scatter white roses in her path.\n\nJune Rose enters at left in riotous dance, scattering red rose petals.\n\nJune Rose:\nI'm coming \u2013 I \u2013 happy, joyous June!\nFor thirty days I scatter the bloom\nOf roses, roses everywhere;\nCome, join the dance \u2013 step here and there.\nBright rose leaves scatter, far and wide,\nThrow rose leaves on trembling, dainty bride.\n[Throws red rose leaves at Bride.]\nWish her the life that's well worth living \u2013\nLife that's full of the joy of giving.\nCome, join the dance \u2013 the revel gay.\nWith joyous, exultant, happy June Rose:\nThrow petals of joy from beginning to close.\nWith joyous, exultant, happy June Rose:\nExit right.\n\nA few soft strains of Star Spangled Banner herald the entrance of a flag-draped girl who enters from the left. July Sunshine, waving wand, enters from the left and speaks, saluting at the same time.\n\nJuly Sunshine:\n'Tis bright July saluting thee,\nThou emblem of a nation free!\nI'll march and sing with you today.\n[Marches a few steps, then dances again.]\nAnd then go madly on my way.\nExit Girl with Flag.\n\nI'll scatter sunshine through the hours.\n[Waves wand turning to audience.]\nAnd brighten this dear world of ours.\nBy day it\u2019s garlands of sun for you,\nBy night, I deck with jewels of dew.\nFarewell! July will soon have passed,\nFollowed by August\u2019s scorching blast!\nExit left.\nDuring slow music, several little children wander to the front of the stage and settle down to rest, an elderly couple in the background as August Heat strolls on from the left.\n\nAugust Heat.\nThey say that I bring languishing heat,\nThat all men feel the pulsing beat\nOf fever that burns the body so,\nThe signal is seen in cheek aglow.\nBut I assure you that I stand for rest,\nThe month when all mankind is blessed\nWith desire to seek the sylvan shade,\nWhere debt to Mother Nature is paid,\nBy children with head upon her lap,\nChildren remove caps.\nThrusting aside the bonnet and cap,\nO Child of Nature, be free \u2014 be free!\nMother, I leave thy children with thee!\n\nCurtain\n\nAn April Day\nA Pantomime\n\nDawn, Daybreak, Morning, Sunshine, Noon, Afternoon, Cloud, Rain, Lightning, Thunder, Sunset, Twilight\n\nCharacters and Costumes\nBose: pink, veil of same\nPale pink, veil of same\nLight blue, wreath of small blue flowers\nYellow, wreath and basket of flowers\nWhite, wreath of white\nPale green, wreath of leaves\nMedium gray, veil of same\nLight gray, veil of same, wand\nOrange, veil of same\nBlack, completely covered\nPink and purple, veil of same\nElectric blue, crown of quarter moon\nBlack, gold stars and moon, crown\n\nSuggestions:\nLightning should be very small and active, as should Sun shine\nA blonde, whose hands must be free at all times to toss flowers from basket\nVeils of those wearing them should be very thin, securely fastened, just a square with one point in front\nNoon should have a glint of tinsel about her - costume\nDresses may be of any thin material, but skirts of Dawn, Daybreak and Twilight must be very full\nCharacters should be slender, graceful girls\n\nVery effective outdoors, especially if done at night.\nThe strong electric lights. A house should be dark indoors with low stage lights, except during the presence of Morning, Noon, Sunshine, and early Afternoon when high light is required.\n\nSynopsis (To be read by the Director when announcing the program.) The pantomime represents the successive periods of the day from dawn to night, with a storm occurring in the afternoon and subsiding before twilight.\n\nSynopsis (For the performance): This pantomime depicts the various stages of the day from dawn to night, featuring a storm in the afternoon that subsides before twilight.\n\nMusic\nVery soft during the presence of Dawn and Daybreak,\nquickening to light dance time for Morning, Sunshine, Noon, Afternoon, Cloud and Rain;\nheavy for Thunder and during the storm;\nlight and slow for Sunset and Twilight,\nquickening to dance time for Night.\n\nScene\nAs the curtain rises, Dawn, dressed in gray, sits in front of a gray background on a cushion or low stool, holding her skirt at arm's length and resting her head on one shoulder, making a stretch of color.\nOn the horizon, Daybreak holds position. When Day enters from the right and stands in front of Dawn, who moves slowly out to the left, Daybreak spreads her skirt and rests her head on her shoulder for one minute. Morning enters from the right and salutes her. Daybreak withdraws as Morning glides to the center, then dances to the front and is joined in her dance by Sunshine, who scatters flowers from her basket. Sunshine withdraws and reappears, dancing about Morning. After several minutes, Morning leaves to the left, giving place to Noon, with whom Sunshine holds a mad revel for a short time. As Noon swings off stage to the left, Sunshine meets and swings Afternoon on at the right. Cloud flits about during the revel of Afternoon and Sunshine, followed by Rain and later Thunder, with Lightning dashing back and forth, while Sunshine runs in and out on the edge of the stage.\nThe Sun disappears as the storm increases. This should continue several minutes. As the storm subsides, Sunset enters at Right as others withdraw at Left. Sunshine raises and lowers its skirt at arm's length to give the effect of clearance after a storm, staying several minutes. Twilight enters at Right, passes across the stage and back in front of Sunset, who withdraws at Left, leaving Twilight alone. Twilight dances a few steps and is joined by Night at Right. They dance a few measures, when Night swings Twilight off at Left. Night then gives a final dance of several minutes' duration.\n\nMADAM BLOSSOM'S BALL\n\nCHARACTERS\nBetty, Ruth, Fairies\nLily, Carol, Nell, Morn, Hollyhock\n\nScene: Outdoor effect with plenty of flowers. Nell, dressed in dainty white with a floral garland and wreath, passes among the flowers and with rapt expression seems to be talking to them.\nBetty: Nell! Please tell us, was it you Who saw the flowers dance? \u2014\nCarol: And were their ornaments of dew, Did you have a glance?\nRuth: At fairies? Please do tell us all!\nAll: Darling Nell, Please do tell About the Blossom's lovely ball!\nNell [with appropriate gestures and occasional steps]: Oh, 'twas the maddest, merriest night, With guests in bright array; Out came the stars and fireflies bright, As twilight passed from day, Fairy music seemed to call Every flower From leafy bower, Down at Madam Blossom's ball! Upon the ballroom floor of green Came guests of varied hue.\nThe dainty costumes gleamed, with dew ornaments,\nIn silence like the stars that fall,\nFeet fell in time to the ball's music,\nRose smiled on Violet, Dewdrop cast her eyes,\nOn lovely Mignonette, Aster's grace enthralled,\nEvery flower lover, at the Blossom's stately ball.\nRose then smiled on Violet, Dewdrop seemed to cast her eyes,\nOn lovely Mignonette, Aster's grace did quite enthrall,\nEvery other flower lover, at the Blossom's stately ball.\nHollyhock, so bright and gay, and Lily dressed in white,\nGlided by, a sight all enjoyed,\nBoth so slender and so tall, all were graceful, all were tasteful,\nAt Madam Blossom's ball.\nFairies looked upon the dance, from out their secret dell,\nTrembled, lest by any chance, they should the scene dispel,\n\"It is a dream,\" said one and all.\nThy coming, pray,\nWhile we enjoy the Blossom's ball!\nBut jocund Morn on tiptoe came,\nJust where the sky-line's clear,\nAnd brought to close this pretty game,\nOf all the flowers dear,\nAs lightly as the signal call,\nWith dainty grace,\nEach found his place \u2014\nThus ended Madam Blossom's ball.\n\nThus ended Madam Blossom's ball.\n\nHostess and seven girls (or girls and boys) for the various stunts: jumping rope, rolling hoop, whistling, playing marbles, bouncing ball, dancing and singing. Hostess having invited guests, each one to contribute to the program, wonders why they do not arrive, finally hears them coming, welcomes them and the party proceeds.\n\nHostess:\nI am so dreadfully worried!\nDo you suppose it can be\nThat they've misunderstood the time?\nAnd I plan to come at three o'clock. (Looks at invitation.) Why, no, my invitation is perfectly all right; if guests should come an hour late, I'd think them impolite! (Reads invitation.) To my party, Thursday, May 6th (Any date desired). Dear Friend, I'm asking you; My home is 20 Idylwild (Any address). The time is set for two o'clock. Please help us with the program, Your favorite stunt pray bring; Just skip-the-rope or roll-the-hoop, Or whistle, dance or sing! (Bell rings.) The Stunt Party. There goes the bell, they're coming, I'm happy as can be! So glad the invitation said two o'clock, not three! (To entering guests.) My friends, I'm very, very glad to see you; Guests. Thank you, we're glad, too, that you asked us to your party; 'Twas very sweet of you! Hostess (looking at instruments for program which have been laid aside) I see each one is planning.\nThe guest who brought the skipping rope, please begin the game. The guest with the rope says, \"The skipping rope is ancient, has long been known to fame. The one whom it entangles, please carry on the game! Throw the rope over the guest. Guest with hoop rolls it and says, \"First of all I'll roll my hoop, then use it for a frame, the one whom it encircles, must carry on the game! Encircles Whistler. Whistler says, \"Perhaps girls shouldn't whistle, I love it just the same. The guest to whom I whistle, please carry on the game! Whistles to one with marbles. Marble Player shoots and says, \"The girl who likes to whistle or play marbles, do not blame. Toward whom I roll a brownie, must carry on the game!\" Rolls marble toward Guest with Ball.\nGuest with ball in hand bounds it once or twice, saying, \"Other toys may come or go, the ball will still remain. The one toward whom I bound it, will carry on the game!\" (Bounds ball toward Dancer.) Dancer does short dance. Dancer. Without the darling dance, life truly would be tame; The guests toward whom I throw a kiss, shall carry on the game! (Throws kiss toward Singer.) Singer (to the tune of Jingle Bells), \"Though my song may not be charming, the truth must still remain, that I have done my very best, to carry on the game!\" Hostess. My friends, you have most kindly helped me to entertain; each one has kept the promise, to carry on the game.\n\nThe Stunt Party\nI\u2019m sure you need refreshment,\nAnd so I\u2019ll make it plain,\nWe\u2019ll gather 'round the festal board,\nAnd carry on the game!\n\nExeunt All.\n\nThe Week Family\n\nCharacters:\nMother Week\nSusan Sunday\nMollie Monday\nMy seven charming daughters,\nKnown to you, I'm sure,\nMost folks just long to meet them,\nBut some cannot endure,\nTo see the dears approaching,\nFor fear that they will bring\nSome merited bad luck.\n\n[Singing in distance.]\nHark, hear Susan Sunday sing!\n\nEnter Susan Sunday from Right and passes to Left, slowly.\n\nMy name is Susan Sunday,\nFirst child of the Week;\nOf course you know I go to church\nAnd quiet pleasures seek;\nI always try to be on time.\nIn class at Sunday School, be kind to all. In doing this, obey the Golden Rule. Enter Mollie Monday, bright, and placing a small tub and washboard on the table, proceeds to use them.\n\nMolly Monday.\nHere I come \u2014 Mollie Monday,\nMother\u2019s second child,\nNot so very pious \u2014\nNot so very mild;\nBut I do the washing,\nI rub and rub and rub,\nAnd when the clothes are all out,\nI then wash every tub!\n\nEnter Tillie Tuesday, bright, with iron and board, follows Mollie Monday.\n\nTillie Tuesday.\nTillie Tuesday \u2014 Mollie\u2019s sister,\n[Bows.]\nThe ironing, I do,\nFor ruffles, tucks and flounces,\nOf course, there are a few,\nAs we are seven sisters,\nNot one of us a shirk,\nFor Mother Week is thrifty,\nAnd taught us how to work!\n\nWinnie Wednesday follows, properly equipped.\n\nWinnie Wednesday.\nWinsome Winnie Wednesday \u2014\nSurely that\u2019s my name,\n.Darning, patching, knitting.\nI'm the middle daughter,\nOf dear old Mother Week.\nWhen she wants peace and quiet,\nMy room she'll always seek.\n\nThursday enters and follows, seating herself.\nThursday.\n\nI'm Theda Thursday,\nRecreation child;\nGoing gadding is a mild statement.\nWork belongs to days before and after,\nSo I'm the one for visiting.\n\nFriday follows, with broom.\nFriday.\n\nI'm Freda Friday,\nChild who wields the broom,\nAnd the mop and duster,\nUntil every room\nShines in bright resplendence\nMy muscles ache.\nDo my duty for Mother's sake.\n\nSaturday follows, with baking utensils.\nSaturday.\n\nClothes are washed and ironed,\nMending is all done,\nHouse is swept and garnished,\nEveryone is pleased,\nThe Week Family.\n\nBut our family appetite\nJust protests and cries: \"Sallie Saturday, please bake bread and cakes and pies! Mother Week steps forward, daughters grouping themselves around her, as far as possible, each one plies her occupation. Mother Week. And now you've met my daughters, are they not true to life? System is our watchword \u2014 that avoids strife. Each one brings a message To everyone it's clear, that fifty-two such families constitute a year.\n\nA Play for Young Girls\n\nCharacters:\nLilian\nMary\nWilla\nLorena\nHelen\nLouise\nEmma\nEthel\n\nScene: A typical room of Lilian's home. Lilian seated, needlework in hand, hears a knock at the door. She rises to answer.\n\nEnter the other girls, chatting cheerfully.\n\nLilian: Come right in, girls. I'm so glad you are all together, as you know I have something to tell you.\nMake yourselves comfy, please. I see you all have your work. How industrious you are, girls! Nothing like it, girls - nothing like it!\n\nMary: Please do not comment on Dur's industry. That is an acknowledged fact. The industry of the \"Girls' Sewing Society\" has been heralded from Dan to Beersheba.\n\nHelen: Now, Lilian, before you give us anything heavy, let me tell you my new recipe for fudge. All. Oh, Fudge! Hear the child!\n\nLorena: Helen, children should be seen and not heard!\n\nHelen: As usual, I'm squelched!\n\nLilian: Listen, girls! Our Secretary is going to give a reception and wishes us to arrange a little program. Now, what do you all think?\n\nHelen: I think it would be lots of fun to make fudge!\n\nEthel: I believe if we were to imprison that child in a fortress of fudge, she would eat her way out.\nHelen: Yes, and I would eat the fortress too! Indeed, I would!\n\nThe First Rehearsal\n\nMary: Give the kiddie a rattle!\nLouise: I'm inclined to think Lilian has an idea.\nEmma: Where's the kodak? Let's snap it!\nLouise: I think she should divide it.\nJennie: The idea or the kodak?\nLouise: One good, big idea! I'm certain it would go all around with the Society today. I should be thankful for a small piece of one.\nLorena: Really, Lilian, it is a very serious thing for one of us girls to have an idea. If you are guilty of the charge, we believe this to be your opportunity to \"fesup.\"\nMary [approaches Lilian with scissors, in pretense of a pistol]: Hands up! Your idea or your life! [Applause and laughter.]\nHelen: O Mary, you make a lovely highwayman!\nLilian [laughingly]: Well, girls \u2014 to return to our text \u2014\nI have some pretty little poems about vegetables. A friend of mine wrote them for a bridge party. How about dressing in crepe paper to represent the different vegetables and each tell her own tale?\n\nAll. Fine! Fine! Let's have them.\n\nWilla. Lilian, you be the potato, as you are somewhat of a manager, and all other vegetables rather pay deference to the potato.\n\nEmma. I'll be corn, green and tender!\n\nLouise. And I a carrot, long and slender!\n\nAll. Oh, hear the poets!\n\nLorena. I'll be the tomato, short and fat!\n\nWilla. I'll be lettuce \u2014 crispy!\n\nHelen. If I don't be fudge, I'll just be a little red radish!\n\nAll. Hear the child!\n\nEmma. Mary, I'm afraid there's nothing left for you but an onion.\n\nMary. Oh, I'm perfectly willing to be an onion, because my enemies will keep a respectful distance and my friends will just love me!\nWilla: Mary, you were always an extremist!\n\nBest Primary Plays.\n\nLilian: Here, girls, are the verses. (Passes slips of paper to girls, who read and comment favorably or otherwise.)\n\nEmma: I believe I know a better one for corn than this.\n\nAll: These are fine; we're sorted all right now, Lilian.\n\nLilian: Well, let's hear them. Emma, first. Please step to the front as you give them, as though you were really facing an audience.\n\nEmma [following instructions]:\nI have silky, yellow hair\nAnd my frock is palest green;\nDo you think that you would care\nFor me more, if dressed in cream?\nLaugh all other food to scorn,\nTake me and your heart I'll warm!\n\nMary: You make my mouth water!\n\nLilian: That's a good beginning. Now let's hear Louise.\n\nLouise [steps forward and speaks]:\nIn my petticoat of yellow and my little cap of green,\nI'm not the neatest little person you've ever seen? I have a very pointed foot and a long, slender body. My name is Carrot - just a sweet and tender carrot.\n\nLilian: Isn't that good?\n\nAll: Yes, Louise is long and slender.\n\nLoren: I'm next! [Rises and speaks.] I'm all head - no feet!\n\nSay, dear, don't you think me neat?\nMy dress is always richly red;\nOf lettuce leaves, I make my bed.\nNext, cover me with a robe of dressing -\nI'll nap while you guess my name.\n\nMary: My, but you sound good!\n\nLorena: Wait 'til you hear Willa!\n\nLilian [leading Willa to center]: Yes, Willa is to give us something crispy.\n\nWilla:\n\nYou can do without me, oh, don't you ever think,\nIf you try, you'll surely put your salad on the blink!\nYou need me in your business and you need me every day,\nSo let's be kind and treat me well, and we'll stay together. All. Good! Good!\n\nLilian. Indeed, that's good, but let us hear from the infant.\n\nHelen [stepping forward]. I'm a cunning little radish, Just the color of the rose; I could give you indigestion \u2013 I could do it if I chose! Now please take a tiny bite, After dipping me in salt \u2013 Don't you think that I'm all right? Can you find a bit of fault? All. Good little kiddie!\n\nEthel. Delectable little radish! [Pats Helen admiringly.]\n\nLilian [leading Mary forward]. We'll now listen to the onion; [to Mary] and please make it strong!\n\nMary [with dramatic air] . You will find me in your salad, You will find me in your dressing, In your pickles \u2013 chowder \u2013 soup \u2013\nI'm a blessing in your hash, I assure you I'm a perfume, Your breath is sweet, adorning, If you taste me, dear, at night, I'm still with you in the morning! [Laughter.] Emma. Mary, you're certainly in a class by yourself! Ethel. Mary, you are certainly the star! Mary. It's a far cry from stars to onions! [Laughter.] Jennie. Ethel! Ethel! What are you, Ethel? Ethel. Oh, you and I are in the home stretch! Emma. Something good, I'll wager! Ethel. Well, I believe some people do like me. Best Primary Plays I'm the most important part Of a succulent boiled dinner; He who dares deny the fact Is a wicked, wicked sinner. Sometimes white and sometimes red, Just a good old cabbage head! [Applause.] Lilian. Now, Jennie, see if you can heat that. Jennie [stepping to center ]. My cheeks are very rosy And I make a right good pickle.\nBoil me long and tender, and your palate I will tickle. Sometimes sour, sometimes sweet, I'm a dandy little beet! Willa. Better all the time, but boiled dinners require something else.\n\nLilian. I'm it. [Pointing to various ones.] Lettuce, carrot and tomato, Radish, onion, yes, and corn. Listen to the poor potato, Do not treat my words with scorn! I've been told that I am Irish\u2014 That idea has had a fall; No! I came from old Virginia, I'm the mother of you all!\n\nMary. Lilian, Lilian, you will certainly have to feed us! I never was so hungry in my life!\n\nLilian [shaking finger at Mary]. Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?\n\nMary [shaking her finger at Lilian]. Lettuce, corn, tomatoes, carrots, cabbages all in a row. [Laughter and applause.]\n\nLilian. Girls, you are all simply fine. Next time bring\nThe material and we will make our costumes. Now, you shall have your reward! I saw Cook manipulating the ice cream freezer, and she gave me a knowing wink. Come, girls!\n\nThe First Rehearsal\n\nNOTE. An outdoor effect is also good, the girls coming upon the scene with the following society yell:\nRah, Rah, Rah, must confess,\nWe are the girls of the G.S.S.\n\nIn case of this arrangement, Lilian should be seated in the garden, with plenty of suitable seats, and her greeting should conform.\n\nA Visit to Fairyland\n\nCharacters\nElder Sister Fairy Queen\nYounger Sister Fairies, captors, and attendants\n\nScene I\n\nSetting and Costumes. Outdoor effect with traces of Fairies here and there. Sisters in light summer frocks. Fairies in green crepe paper dresses, with wreaths and garlands of flowers.\n\nEnter from Left, Two Sisters, chatting merrily.\nYounger Sister:\nSister, I am sure 'tis where the fairies stay,\nAnd what a darling place 'twould be\nFor little folks to play!\nI'll clap my hands just so,\nAnd softly call and see\nIf loving tones will elfins bring,\nTo play with you and me.\n[Plaintive tones, hands out in supplication.]\nDear dainty fairies,\nI'd give the world to be\nYour guest, for just a little while!\nOh, grant this joy to me.\n\nYounger Sister:\nDear sister, have you never heard,\nThat any girl or boy,\nWho has no faith in fairies,\nWill never know the joy\nOf seeing airy, elfin band,\nOr knowing how they live,\nHow they distribute happiness.\nAnd joy to children give?\n\nElder Sister:\nYou funny little darling,\nThis is a charming place,\nBut fairies, dear \u2014 there are none;\nAt least I find no trace.\nFairies or no fairies, it's a charming little nest. Younger Sister. Let's lie down. I'm sure the fairies will watch us while we rest. [Both sisters fall asleep.] Enter three Fairies. One waves a poppy wand over the Elder Sister, inducing deeper sleep. The other two, by manipulating a garland of flowers, waken and take the Younger Sister a willing captive to the court of the Fairy Queen.\n\nScene II\nSame setting, with throne in rear, upon which is seated Fairy Queen, surrounded by Attendant Fairies. Fairy Queen should be dressed in white, with garlands of flowers, gilt crown and wand.\n\nEnter Younger Sister with Fairy Captors. All salute Fairy Queen.\n\nFairy Queen:\nWho is this little earth child,\nWho visits fairyland,\nNot clad in woodland garments?\nWhat means this, Elfin Band?\nCaptor Fairies.\nIt means, Queen beloved,\nThat we found this earth-land child within the border of our fairy wild. Fairy Queen.\nRemove these earthly garments,\nAnd let your duty be\nTo cloth our guest befittingly,\nThen bring her back to me.\nAttendant Fairies withdraw with Younger Sister,\nTo obey command of Fairy Queen.\nFairy Queen [to others]:\nArrange, my loyal people,\nA dance, and garlands fling;\nAnd with your rhythmic movements,\nInduce the birds to sing.\n[Bird notes on piano in distance.]\nFairies bring garlands for dance. Younger Sister, properly clothed, returns with Attendant Fairies, salutes Fairy Queen, receiving touch of wand, which enables her to participate in dance, which now takes place [soft music].\nAfter dance, Younger Sister again salutes Fairy Queen,\nwho sees question in her face.\nFairy Queen:\nYour face betrays a question;\nJust ask me, gentle guest.\nIf the answer lies in fairy lore, granted, your request. Younger Sister.\nPray tell me, Queen of Fairies, is it at your command a Visit to Fairyland that so much joy is given to all, throughout the land? Fairy Queen.\nWe fairies live in raindrop, in foam, on ocean wave; we dwell within the wind cave; the fiercest storm, we brave. We dwell, you know, in forest, within whose gentle shade is found the fern and violet, where greenest moss is laid. We peep from eye of baby, spring from the small, pink palm that wipes the tear from mother\u2019s eye \u2014 to wounded heart's a balm. Younger Sister.\nI read of you in all my books; close in my heart you\u2019re bound. So happy was I, when I knew your fairyland I\u2019d found. [Salutes Fairy Queen.] Fairy Queen [as two attendants step forward].\nWe're glad you came to see us; your path lies this way, dear.\nYounger Sister: O sister dear, pray listen,\nI've been to fairyland!\nI've danced with darling fairies,\nMet Queen of fairy band.\n\nElder Sister [indulgently]:\nWhile you've been with the fairies,\nI've had a lovely sleep,\n[Looks in Younger Sister's face.]\nYou've gathered here an elfin look,\nI trust you'll always keep.\n\nNow we'll return to Mother,\nWho'll surely wonder why \u2013\nWe must, dear fairies, leave you.\nGood-by, good-by, good-by!\n\nYounger Sister [backs away throwing kisses].\nThe Fairy Queen is asked by the Rose Family to render a decision as to which is the most beautiful rose, to reign as their queen, the Roses promising to accept the verdict without protest.\n\nCharacters:\nFairy Queen\nAttendants of Queen\nCourtiers\nMercury, Messenger\nRed Rose\nWhite Rose\nBlue Rose\nCabbage Rose\nWild Rose\nYellow Rose\nClimbing Rose\nCecil Bruner\nBose Family\n\nSynopsis:\nThe Fairy Queen is asked by the Rose Family to decide which rose is the most beautiful and should reign as their queen. The Roses promise to accept the verdict without protest.\n\nMusic:\n(1) A Garland of Old-fashioned Roses, ' played softly in the distance, the waltz portion being used in the dances.\n\nSettings and Costumes:\nOutdoor effect, woodsy and typical of the haunts of the fairies. The Fairy Queen and her court dressed in keeping with their characters. The Roses each to be dressed in green (any soft material) with a characteristic rose either on breast as a hat or as a girdle just under the waist.\nFairy Queen, discovered on throne with several attendants. One attendant looks eagerly in the distance.\n\nFairy Queen: Why so intently gazing? Pray tell me what you see?\n\nAttendant: A messenger's approaching. Yes, 'tis Mercury! Dear Queen, I'm very certain whatever word he brings requires haste, for he now wears his cap and ankle wings!\n\nFairy Queen: Pray bring him to my presence! He comes from dear Roseland.\n\n[Enter Mercury]\n\nMercury: I'm bidden by the Roses To place this in your hand.\n\nFairy Queen: You're welcome to our Woodland, dear Mercury; but pray, how are my friends at Roseland? What does the message say?\n\n[Attendant reads]\n\nAttendant: Dear Fairy Queen, We're asking That you settle once for all A question most appalling; Upon you now we call. A most momentous question, We ask you to decide;\nWe're sure you'll do it justice. By your word we will abide. Which of us is the fairest? Sweet friend, it lies with thee. Among us, she whom you select Shall be Queen of Roseland.\n\nThe Queen of Roseland\n\nWhatever your arrangements, We will do just what you say. Whom you select, shall be our Queen, Forever and a day!\n\nFairy Queen.\n\nReturn at once to Roseland, Dear Mercury \u2013 report That, one by one, each sweet Rose welcomes To my court. [Hands outstretched to denser woods.] O Woodland Spirits, aid me! Upon your friend shed light, That this momentous question She may decide aright! [To Mercury, while writing message.] Let each dear Rose tomorrow Present to me her claim Upon the throne of Roseland, Forever there to reign! Mercury [leaving]. 1 11 safely bear your message Back to those who wait. Fairy Queen. Go tell them their request, My heart doth agitate!\nFairy Queen (to Attendants): Fairy Queen, festoon with floral garlands. Let added charm be found. It should be said that in my court to-day, joy doth abound! While garlands are arranged, music swells for a short time. Attendant (looking eagerly): Dear Queen, a guest approaches, Of hue so rich and bright. Fairy Queen: I wonder \u2014 'tis the Red Rose, A warmly gorgeous sprite! [Enter Red Rose, who confidently approaches Fairy Queen, by whom she is signaled to speak.] Red Rose: Of regal height and color, A Roseland Queen should be. I'm certain these requirements, Dear judge, you'll find in me! Red Rose (salutes Fairy Queen). Fairy Queen: That you have claims unusual, 'Tis plainly to be seen. You have the royal bearing, That well befits a Queen!\nRed Rose passes to the opposite side and is followed by White Rose; each Rose in turn following Red Rose, forming a picturesque group about her.\n\nWhite Rose [modestly]. Pure and without blemish.\nMust Queen of Roseland be.\n\nI pray thee, gentle censor,\nIs there aught of this in me?\n\nTHE QUEEN OF ROSELAND\nFairy Queen.\n\nNaught in thee, dear White Rose,\nIs found but purity.\n\nWere that the sole requirement,\nThe crown should go to thee!\n\n[White Rose withdraws.]\n\nBlue Rose.\nPerhaps I\u2019m not so dainty\nAs others, nor so fair;\nDiscrimination fine as yours\nWill grant that I am rare!\n\nFairy Queen.\n\nLovely art thou, Blue Rose,\nDainty\u2014yes, and fair;\nMy judgment does not hesitate\nTo grant that thou art rare!\n\n[Blue Rose withdraws.]\n\nCabbage Rose [jolly in manner].\nShould size and abundance\nAppeal, at all, to thee,\nAs attributes of Queen, dear judge,\nYou\u2019d find them both in me!\nFairy Queen (smiling). Graciousness and abundance belong to royalty; whether thou art Queen or not, the world will still love thee! Wild Rose: I'm such a weird, wild thing, not fit, they say, for court; and if appointed, think I'd turn my duties into sport!\n\nFairy Queen: I have known many monarchs Who've been both brave and wild; Your wildness is a glory, Just pure and undefiled!\n\nYellow Rose: Dear Lady, I have the color, My heart's of deepest gold, My treasure chests, all moss-bound, Hold royalties, untold!\n\nFairy Queen: Thy moss-bound, golden riches Belong now to the past; But love for yellow treasure Throughout all time, will last!\n\nClimbing Rose (haughtily): I have the climbing tendency \u2014 Ambition without end; Both attributes, dear censor, I'm ready to defend!\n\nFairy Queen: These attributes are royal; All monarchs claim them both.\nTo pass you by, dear climber, I should be very loath! I'm Cecil Bruner. My name is Cecil Bruner. Just pink, from head to toes \u2014 I couldn't be a Queen, like you; I\u2019m just a Baby Rose! Fairy Queen [smiling graciously]. All monarchs once were babies. You'll grow to man's estate; To reign as Queen in Roseland Henceforth shall be your fate! The Queen of Roseland [crowns Cecil Bruner]. Yours is a winsome beauty, A firm hand yours will be; For diplomatic council, I pray you call on me! Now, dear friends of Roseland, In your faces I can see Approval of the one I choose Henceforth your Queen to be! She is a darling monarch! We trust and hope and pray, That she will live to be our Queen, Forever and a day! New Queen takes Fairy Queen by hand and, saluting all the Roses, speaks.\nCecil Bruner\nDear Friends, I hope you won't repent whatever comes or goes! If I fail as Queen, then let me be again your Baby Rose!\n\nNew Queen steps in front of the others, who form a garland of Roses behind her, all dancing the finale to the air of \"A Garland of Old-fashioned Roses.\"\n\nCURTAIN\n\nThe Doll Shop\n\nCharacters and Costumes\n\nFrench Doll\nBoy Doll\nRag Doll\nTeddy Bear\nHula Girl\nRed Cross Nurse\nBallet Doll\nEgyptian Doll\nSailor Boy\nOld-Fashioned Girl\nSpanish Senorita\nIndian Chief\n\nLight fancy frock, curls, socks, and fancy slippers\nBlue rompers, light, bobbed hair, socks, and slippers\nDarkey costume, patched dress, woolly hair\n\nTypically dressed: Dress of red or yellow, covered with grass, with usual Hawaiian ornaments\n\nIn a closed box 'marked \"Sold\"'\nFull ballet skirt, dancing shoes, much scuffed\nStrictly oriental costume\nBlue United States Navy suit\nThe French Shop Girl dusts stock and arranges dolls in preparation for the day, humming softly to herself. She shows particular affection for the French Doll. The proprietor enters, chats with and kisses the French Shop Girl. The girl protests as a customer is entering. After explanations, she shows the dolls to the customer. The customer finally selects the French Doll, promising to return for her later. The proprietor, who has withdrawn during the sale, reenters and invites the French Shop Girl out to dinner. During their absence, with lights low, the dolls indulge in merriment to soft music. When the clock strikes twelve, they return to their places, looking rather towseled.\n\nScene I\n(Doll shop, where the French Shop Girl is arranging dolls)\nProprietor: Good morning, charming Bright Eyes, Your cheeks are like the rose. Might I have what I'd like, What would it be, dear?\n\nFrench Shop Girl: Monsieur, a customer, rich - rich, I'm sure is in your mind, To carry off the French Doll, Another home to find!\n\nCustomer: (While looking in your window) (Am I interrupting, pray?) I saw your most enchanting doll! It must be sent to-day!\n\nFrench Shop Girl: Not interrupting, Madame! Mon Ami's so... (laughs and shows dolls.) (How do you say in English?) Ah, yes - so very queer! This is my darling little one! Francais, through and through! I'd grieve to see her leave the shop,\nI would, I would, mon Dieu!\nCustomer: Her costume has a dear, French touch \u2014 Do tell me what's the price \u2014 how much?\nFrench Shop Girl [turns hurriedly away from French Doll]:\nFrench Shop Girl: Would you not like this Boy Doll? He is a cunning lad, The hair is very natural \u2014 His clothes are not so bad!\nCustomer: I think I like a girl doll best. But you may show me all the rest!\nFrench Shop Girl: Oui, Madame, this Black Doll Is surely my bete noire, If she should go this very day, Her loss I\u2019d not deplore!\nCustomer: I\u2019m certain Topsy never means To make her mistress have bad dreams!\nFrench Shop Girl: This Teddy Bear, bonne amie, Might please your little friend; His coat, so soft and silky \u2014 Don\u2019t you think you\u2019d like to send?\nCustomer: Oh no, she has a Teddy Bear; For him I\u2019m sure she would not care!\nFrench Shop Girl.\nNow here's a Hula Dancer,\nDressed in Hawaiian grass;\nHer costume, Ma'am, is quite correct,\nFor women of her class.\n\nThe Doll Shop\n\nCustomer:\nYour dolls are very charming, dear,\nWhat have you in this box here?\n[Points to closed box.]\n\nFrench Shop Girl:\nAh, Madame, a special order,\nThat package doth enfold;\nI have not even seen it,\nObserve, it is marked, \u201cSold!\u201d\n\nCustomer:\nShow me the first one again, my dear,\nFrench Shop Girl [aside]:\nShe\u2019ll take my Francais doll, I fear!\nLook, ch\u00e8re amie, right this way,\nThis one you have not seen,\nSans too much clothes, this Ballet Girl,\nYou\u2019ll surely think's a dream!\n\nCustomer:\nHer clothing's rather slight, I vow!\nI'll just look at the rest, please, now.\n\nFrench Shop Girl:\nThis dear Egyptian Girl, you see,\nIs dressed in Eastern splendor,\nWe use the \u201cplease don\u2019t handle\u201d sign.\nIf broken, we can\u2019t mend her!\nCustomer: Pax vobiscum! Leave her here; What is the other one, my dear?\nFrench Shop Girl: Here is a rosy, sailor lad, How think you he would do? So clean, so strong, so manly, In his U. S. suit of blue!\nCustomer: 'Tis hard to choose 'twixt boys and girls; Just show me something else, with curls!\nFrench Shop Girl: The dearest of Old Fashioned Girls \u2014 Just see the hoop and pantalets! Should you decide on her, I\u2019m sure There could be no regrets!\nCustomer: I'd take her, if alive, and get The child to dance the minuet!\nFrench Shop Girl: Now here's a Senorita, Yes, Spanish, you have guessed; Piquant \u2014 a lively dancer, So charmingly she\u2019s dressed!\nCustomer: A pure Castilian maid is she; If you've another, let me see.\nFrench Shop Girl: A gorgeous, feathered Indian, With trappings of a Chief, Would draw attention always,\nCustomer: Though his tribe has come to grief,\nHe is a mighty chief, but pshaw,\nI'd rather have a squaw.\n[Customer turns to go.]\nFrench Shop Girl: Madame, the dolls are pretty;\nNot one of them is old.\nCustomer: After dinner, I'll come back\nAnd take the French Doll.\n\n[The Doll Shop]\n[Leaves.]\n\n[Proprietor returns, finds French Shop Girl disappointedly]\nProprietor: Come, little one, to dinner,\nDon't grieve over the dolls!\nThey are not worth one of your tears.\nThey're naught but fol-de-rols!\n[Catches French Shop Girl, whirls her about.]\nThe two leave for dinner.\nThe Old Fashioned Girl leaves her place, whispers to\nthe other dolls, persuading them to come out on the floor\nfor an hour of merriment, which they all do. Each performs a stunt to music.\nDarkness falls meantime.\nThe clock strikes twelve, and they all scurry back to their places. Movements must be mechanical, and during the frolic, the dolls become disheveled.\n\nStunts:\n- Light, solo dance by French Doll.\n- School drill, second or third grade, by Boy Doll.\n- Bag Doll is joined by Teddy Bear in a humorous dance.\n- Hula Girl performs a native dance to Hawaiian music.\n- Balloon Doll executes a typical solo dance.\n- Old Fashioned Girl, one or two figures of minuet.\n- Egyptian Girl performs an oriental dance.\n- Spanish Senorita dances a light solo to Spanish music, using tamborine.\n- Indian Chief performs a slow solo dance to slow Indian music.\n- Sailor Boy dances The Sailor\u2019s Hornpipe, during which he falls.\n\nSuddenly, the box marked \u201cSold\u201d opens, and the Bed Cross Nurse appears and renders First Aid to Sailor, when the clock strikes twelve.\n\nScene II\nPlace: Same. Time, next morning.\nEnter Proprietor and French Shop Girl, surprised.\nFind Dolls in an upset condition.\nCustomer: Your shop was all locked up last night, so I've come back this morning!\nProprietor: The Dolls have had some merriment; see that we've had warning! [Points at Dolls.]\nFrench Shop Girl: The Dolls last night went on a tear, I see it in their tousled hair! All [dancing to quick music]. Yes, yes, we Dolls were on a tear. You'd know it by our tousled hair!\n\nCurtain\n\nNote. For an encore, the Dolls may seat themselves in a semicircle and sing, \"I Want to Buy a Doll,\" or some other suitable song.\n\nCharacters:\nAnnette\nElise\nDorothy\nBarnett\n\nMabel\nRuth\nNorman\nFlorence\nLouis\nMary\nFrances\nFredericka\n\nSetting and Costumes:\nOutdoor, woodsy effect, with plenty of flowers.\nChildren to be dressed in summer attire. Girls wear flower-trimmed dresses.\nChildren enter, chattering merrily. Annette, taller than the others, is the leader. All exclaim about the flowers, pick them and place them in their baskets or make bouquets.\n\nFlorence: What a perfectly darling place, and such lovely flowers!\nRuth: Annette, don't you think we might stay here and play awhile?\nAll: Oh, Annette, do say yes! Please, Annette, let us stay!\nAnnette: Surely, we might stay for a little while. I'm quite certain we might. What do you want to play?\nMary: I think it would be nice to play school.\nAll [laughing]: Oh, no! No! No! Not school!\nDorothy: Oh, I know; let's play the last day of school!\nRuth: Oh, yes! The last day of school is all right! And Annette must be the teacher.\nAnnette: All right, I'll be the teacher. I'll sit right here.\nAnnette. Barnett has a dear nurse. Let's hear about her.\n\nBEST PRIMARY PLAYS\n\nBarnett steps forward.\n\nSweet face, crowned with auburn hair,\nHands so strong and soft and fair,\nAll that I love best is there,\nDo you know her?\n(Looks to left.)\nShe rubs the wrinkles from my back,\n(rubs back.)\nAnd she has a pleasant knack\nOf knowing all the things I lack.\nDo you know her?\n(Looks right.)\nIf she'll promise, don't you see,\nJust to stay a while with me,\nI shall be very grateful be,\nAnd thankful, that I know her!\n(Takes seat.)\n\n[Applause.]\n\nAnnette. What a lovely nurse, Ruth! Did you ever hear a Kitty meow?\n\nRuth.\n\nWith a frock of soft gray\nAnd a vest of pure white,\nA tail long and graceful,\nA step soft and light.\nYour eyes seem as mellow,\nAs if brushed with dew;\nOh, you are a darling!\nMy Kittie Me-oow!\nTo show that you love me,\nYou give a light tap\nOn my hand when you beg\nFor a place on my lap;\nBut we are good pals\nAnd our love is true blue.\nI'm my Daddy's \"wee maid\" \u2014\nYou're my Kittie Me-oow!\n\nAnnette. As we've heard about a kittie, somebody should tell us about a doggie.\n\nNorman. I can tell you about my woolly doggie.\n\nAll. Yes, let's hear about our woolly doggie, Norman.\n\nNorman.\nGot an awful woolly doggie,\nOh, say, can you tell me how\nI'm to know the end that wiggles\nFrom the end that says \u201cBow-wow\u201d?\nSometimes my woolly doggie\nRuns ahead and sometimes back,\nRolls and turns and falls all over \u2014\nQueerest doggie! Name is Jack.\n\nSometimes I think I see some eyes \u2014\n'Most always out of sight.\nI'll never know his head from tail,\nUnless he tries to bite.\nIf my little woolly doggie dies,\nAnd up to heaven goes,\nWill the angels know one end,\nFrom the other, do you suppose?\n\nBarnett goes to Annette and whispers.\nAnnette. Barnett says that, as we have heard about a kittie and a doggie, he would like to hear about a bird.\nElise. Dorothy knows a bird piece and I can help her in the song part.\n\nAll. Oh, let us have that next, Annette!\nAnnette. Surely! Do it now, girlies.\nDorothy steps forward and recites verses, Elise joining in the song, when both swing arms gracefully.\n\nI just asked a Mother Birdie,\nOne sunny summer day,\nDid she love her baby birdies,\nIn the really mother way?\n\n\"Yes,\" she said, \"I love my darlings,\nWith a mother love so strong,\nThat I'll tell you all about it.\"\nIf you listen to my song, I heard the sweetest music, from Mother Birdie's throat. All the baby birdies listened, and I'm sure they heard each note. The babies all looked up then, guess they each asked for a kiss. Then the mother sang a lullaby which sounded just like this:\n\nSwing high, swing low,\nSwing in the morning sun.\nSwing high, swing low,\nSwing when the day is done.\n\nFredericka. I like that one best of all.\nMary. I like it best of all, too.\nAnnette. Lovely, but did anyone ever go fishing?\nLouis. My daddy took me fishing,\nIn the cutest little boat,\nA while we both would paddle,\nAnd then a while we\u2019d float.\n\nNext, Dad fixed a rod for me,\nAnd said I must be still,\nMustn\u2019t move or hardly breathe,\nBut just sit tight, until\nI should feel something pulling;\nThen, all at once it came.\nCaught a fish and soon my daddy did the same. Got a dozen! Took them home and Mother cooked them good. Dad remarked, \"We'll go again.\" I said we surely would. Yesterday, we went again, And wished and fished till night. Oh, what's the use of wishing? Didn't get a bite! Annette. Better luck next time, Louis.\n\nMary. Teacher, may I tell about my bubbles? All. Yes, let's head about bubbles. Speak up, Mary!\n\nMary. Mother got a bowl of water, Dad, a bubble pipe. Then I dropped in soap and blew. Oh, 'twas the dearest sight! Guess fairies danced upon the edge Of pipe and bowl, for me, As shiny balls just dodged about, First one, then two, then three! I could not even touch one of The pretty balls, so dear, As every time I tried to, 'Twas sure to disappear!\n\nColors were so lovely, Of the balls, so round and bright.\nThey seemed most like a rainbow,\nAs they floated out of sight.\nSometimes a little fairy comes\nTo see me in my sleep;\nNext time, I'll ask: \u201cPlease, fairy,\nMay I have a ball to keep? \u201d\nAnnette. Bubbles are beautiful.\nElise. We have a bubble pipe at our house.\nDorothy. Annette, Florence wants to whisper to you.\nAnnette. Florence, do you want to tell us about your dolly?\nFlorence.\nI called the doctor on the phone,\nMy dolly was so ill,\nI thought sure he'd have to give her\nA huge, big, red pill!\nBut when he came, he only smiled\nAnd asked, \u201cWhat is her name?\u201d\nI said, Virginia Robertina\nEloisa Mayme.\nHe looked most awful serious,\nAnd long he seemed to pause.\n\u201cToo much of one bad symptom,\nThe devil will often cause,\u201d\nHe said; then took a bottle\nOut of his big, black case,\nAnd then remarked, excited-like,\n\u201cWith death, we'll run a race!\u201d\nI took the bottle \u2014 looked at it;\nThe label was quite plain,\nIt's the queerest remedy \u2014\nJust called \u201cMary Jane!\u201d\n\nWild Flowers\n\nAnnette: I hope your dolly is all well now, Florence.\nFlorence: Thank you, Annette, she is. I think Fredericka wants to tell us about her mother's new dolly.\nFredericka: Yes, I want to tell about my mother's dolly:\nSaw my mother's dolly,\nWhen I got up today;\nDidn't care about it,\nSince I heard Mother say,\n\"He's a little darling!\"\nShe used to call me that,\nAnd we're not a hit alike.\nHe's thin and I am fat.\nWhen Mother loved the dolly,\nI hurt so bad inside,\nDaddy took me up and I\nJust cried and cried and cried!\n\nIf the new doll's pretty\u2014\nGets some eyes and nose,\nMaybe I will love it,\nLike I love my dolly, Rose.\n\nAnnette [laughing]: I think you will love the new dolly.\nFredericka.  We\u2019re  nearly  through  now,  but  we  must \nhear  about  Mother  Nature\u2019s  Washtub  and  The  New  Bird. \nMabel. \nDad  and  Mother  took  me  trav\u2019lin\u2019 \nTill  we  reached  the  great,  big  sea, \nWhen  we  sat  down  on  the  rocks, \nThere  came  rushin\u2019  straight  at  me, \nBiggest  lot  of  bluein\u2019  water, \nAwful  sudzy,  don\u2019t  you  know? \nGuess  a  whale  was  just  a-rubbin\u2019 \nIn  the  water,  down  below ! \n[Works  arms.] \nHandkerchiefs  came  fly  in\u2019  in, \nLacey,  flouncey  things  came,  too. \nBEST  PRIMARY  PLAYS \nAsked  my  mother,  did  she  think \nThat  the  water  was  too  blue? \nBut  she  said  that  old  Dame  Nature \nAlways  washes  clothes  just  fine; \nBut  I  think  I  \u2019ll  come  back  later \u2014 \nJust  to  see  them  on  the  line ! \n[Applause.] \nMabel.  I  like  that  one! \nAnnette.  Fine!  Now  we  have  the  surprise  of  the  day. \nFrances  will  tell  us  about  a  new  kind  of  a  bird. \nFrances  [with  appropriate  gestures]. \nFlitting  here,  then  floating  there, \nSoaring high up in the air,\nPretty, graceful, birdlike thing,\nWatch the flutter of its wing;\nDarting down, then rising high,\nJust a speck up in the sky,\nWhat can such a large bird be,\nFlying over land and sea?\nAh, it fairly makes me thrill,\nSo smooth it glides o'er vale and hill;\nSee! it makes a spiral dip,\nWhile below, I sit, spellbound.\n\nBirdman, when this bird you tame,\nLet me join the flying game!\n\nLouis. Wasn't that great? It's an airship!\nAnnette. Didn't I tell you there was a surprise in store?\nWe must go now, as some of the mothers will be looking for us.\n\nAll. No! No! Annette! Not until you do something!\n\nAnnette. Since the flowers are so lovely here, I will tell you about a dear old garden, shall I?\n\nAll. Oh yes, do, Annette!\n\nWild Flowers\n\nAnnette.\nI know the dearest garden,\nWhere the sweetest flowers grow.\nWhere all is bright confusion:\nBlossoms never in a row.\nWhere the tall and stately Lily bows to the Poppy,\nThe Violet spreads perfume\u2014Oh, I think I smell it now!\nThe Larkspur is a-waving above the Mignonette,\nAnd the Four-o\u2019clock stays out until the sun begins to set.\nI am going to the country,\nTo my lady\u2019s garden fair,\nAnd as queen among the flowers,\nI shall find my grandma, there!\n[Applause.]\nFredericka. That makes me think of my grandma\u2019s garden.\nMabel. Perfectly sweet, isn\u2019t it?\nAll exeunt chatting merrily, picking flowers as they go.\n\nA Fall Day\n\nCharacters:\nTen Children, six or seven years old\nFarmer Boy\n\nCostumes:\nBoys dressed in outing clothes. Girls in gingham gowns, with hats hanging down backs. Each carries a small basket with handle in left hand.\n\nFirst.\nCheer-o! Cheero!\nWe\u2019re all aglow [All fan faces with right hands.]\nFrom the hills we chase. Second, as we go, we're pleased to know the world is full of thrills. Third, upon yon hill, we ate our fill of nuts that tumbled down. Fourth, our baskets brimmed to the very rim heaped with chestnuts brown. Fifth, we climbed so high, we touched the sky, and all the world we saw. Sixth, from the field of corn, now bare and shorn, we heard the lone crow's caw. A fall day. Seventh, across the brook, our way we took to the orchard in the valley. We made haste to our favorite tree, as straight as a bee. Ninth, we ate and ate, stooping and picking fruit.\nAt a rapid rate and then we filled our baskets. Hold up baskets.\n\nTenth. Did we eat some more of the trees' good store? How strange that you should ask it! All.\n\nNow home we go the way we know. This will lead us by the brook. We'll all wade in where the small fish swim, afraid of no man's hook.\n\nFirst Child. I'm all filled up with nuts and apples, but I think I could find room, if it was something new we had to eat.\n\nEnter Farmer Boy, dressed in overalls and straw hat.\n\nFarmer Boy. If you only knew what I know! All. What? Tell us! Tell us!\n\nFarmer Boy (looks around cautiously and lowers voice). Strawberries. All [joyfully]. Oh! But [shaking heads sadly] the season's been over for months.\n\nFarmer Boy. Not for me. I know a place where they're thicker than blackberries. Everbearing\u2014that's the kind they are. Would you like some?\nAll. Let us go and see where they grow.\nFarmer Boy. Then tread softly, for, though they're millions and millions of them, it's a secret place. And if anyone has had too many nuts and apples, I'm not urging him to come.\nAll.\nCheer-o! Cheer-o!\nIt's now we know\nWe're going to have a treat.\nWhen we have fed\nOn berries red,\nWe'll call the day complete.\n\nThe Workers\n\nCharacters\n\nGardener (i)\nDoctor (I)\nMilkman (Boys of ten or twelve years)\nStorekeeper (J)\nHousewife, girl of ten or twelve years\n\nWorkers stand in semicircle. The Gardener is in overalls and wields a hoe. The Doctor wears a white coat and apron such as surgeons wear. He stands before a small table upon which are piled packages of bandages, measuring medicine into a spoon. The Milkman carries a bracket of milk bottles. The Storekeeper stands behind.\nA counter (dry goods box) wearing a large apron, weighing sugar. Gardener. To plant a garden the right way is not an easy thing. But very careful, thoughtful work will bring the best results. Doctor. The only time people like to see me at their door is when the pain gets very bad, hurting them more and more. Milkman. Of all the workers, I have found that I'm the early bird. My bottles clinking in the morn are the first sounds to be heard. Storekeeper. My scales must be exactly right. The full amount to measure. A name for being accurate is something that I treasure. Doctor [with important air]. Of course, you're all valuable while, but you'll have to admit my work is the most important of all. Others. Oh, no! Doctor. Saving people's lives is certainly a work that leads all the rest. Enter Housewife [with basket on arm]. Housewife.\nWhat have you, Mr. Gardener,\nTo make my children grow? For rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, They\u2019re such a help, I know.\n\nGardener:\nMy partner wears the name of Health; For garden products all\u2014 There\u2019s nothing else will help so much To make one strong and tall.\n\nHousewife [to Milkman]:\nAnd you, I feel, are my best friend. Good milk has never failed To be a perfect, wholesome food, With virtues unassailed.\n\nMilkman:\nThere never lurks a harmful germ In milk I bring to you, My vow to sell the purest milk Is one to which I\u2019m true.\n\nHousewife [to Storekeeper]:\nCan I depend upon the brands Of food you sell to me? To know my children get the best Means very much to me.\n\nStorekeeper:\nTo keep the faith of customers, My stock is of the best. My shining shelves and spotless floor Speak loudly of the rest.\n\nHousewife [to Gardener, Milkman and Storekeeper]:\nYou have my fullest gratitude. For the kind words you have said. My children's health is in your hands. And with the best they shall be fed.\n\nHousewife. Good afternoon.\nThe Three. Good afternoon, madam.\nStorekeeper.\n\nYou see, it takes more than one wheel\nTo make the world go 'round,\nAnd price is bound to have a fall,\nIs what I\u2019ve always found.\n\nDoctor.\n\nI must confess that I was wrong,\nI really spoke too quick,\nKeeping folks well is even better\nThan curing them when sick.\n\nCURTAIN\n\nIN JACK-O'-LANTERN ROW\n\nCHARACTERS\n\nSix Small Boys or Girls\nSmall Boys or Girls concealed behind low curtains\nstrung across stage, holding bobbing Jack-O'-Lanterns\nabove curtain.\nStage darkened. Lanterns lit.\n\nFirst Lantern.\n\nOn Hallowe\u2019en we roam abroad\nAnd care not whom we scare.\nOur faces fierce gleam in the night \u2014\nWe\u2019re goblin ghosts \u2014 beware!\nAll.\n\nO-OO-oo-oo-ooo!\n\nSecond Lantern.\nAt midnight, we sally forth,\nWhen all the ghost world walks,\nWhen black cats yowl and witches fly,\nAnd the yellow-eyed screech owl talks.\nAll.\nOO-OO-oo-oo-oooo!\nThird Lantern.\nOn lonely roads we take our stand,\nTo scare the traveler alone.\nWhen on his ear our sad cries fall,\nHe wishes he were home.\nAll.\nOO-OO-ooo-ooo-oo!\nFourth Lantern.\nWe love deserted, lonesome houses,\nEspecially if they\u2019re haunted;\nFor holding forth on Hallowe\u2019en,\nNo better place is wanted.\nAll.\nOO-OO-oo-ooo-ooo!\nIn Jack-o-lantern row\nFifth Lantern.\nWhen at some window all too quick,\nOur dreadful grin appears,\nThe screams that rend the quiet air\nFall sweetly on our ears.\nAll.\nOO-OO-OOO-ooo-ooo!\nSixth Lantern.\nYes, dark and fearsome are our ways,\nYou\u2019d never even guess,\nThat we were once but pumpkins low!\nIt\u2019s so, we must confess.\nAll.\nOO-OO-ooo-ooooo!\n\nThe Visit of the Raindrops\nCharacters.\nA small girl is seated at a table reading a book. The table has a table-lamp and books piled at one end. Girl (in listening attitude). Just listen to that rain come down! I cannot hide a frown. I planned to rake the yard and clean the garden today. Instead, this rain has spoiled it all! The outdoors no longer calls. I sit here reading this dry book and sigh as I look through the pane. Girl (turns back to her book but starts suddenly at the sound of strange voices singing. Singers offstage sing low and high do's of Key of E flat, alternately, with a weird, singing tone, repeated several times.) Girl: What can that curious singing be? It sounds like wind from off the sea. It really makes my heart beat fast; I hope it isn't going to last. (Singing draws nearer and nearer.)\nRain Gnomes enter. Rain Gnomes wear long gray raincoats and wide drooping hats. The hats may be made of construction paper.\n\nThe Visit of the Raindrops\n\nRain Gnomes (sing):\nRain Gnomes\nf-H- y\nb u m r J X J KZP -\nall the grief, we don't even care.\n\nBest Primary Plays\n\nGirl:\nOh, dear! What selfish little Gnomes!\nGo right back to your rainy homes!\nWhy, you should be ashamed to say\nThat you are glad to spoil the day?\n\nFirst Gnome: No one loves us, so why should we care?\nSecond Gnome: Children always make faces at us.\nThird Gnome: We know people think us a bother and so\nwe're going to cause just as much trouble as we can.\nPeople are such cranks.\n\nGirl:\nPeople do not like you, Gnomes,\nBecause you cause them grief.\nYou steal away their happy plans,\nJust like a naughty thief.\n\nAnd in return what do you do\nTo make up for your pranks?\nIt's all your own sad fault, that people act like cranks. Raindrops wear capes reaching to knees, and jaunty dunce caps of gray. The capes may have bright yellow linings, but this is not essential.\n\nGirl:\nAnd are you like the Rain Gnomes, too,\nProud of the selfish things you do,\nGlad to spoil a perfect day,\nBy acting in this dreadful way?\n\nFirst Raindrop:\nOh, no! You've made a great mistake.\nWe aren't that kind at all.\nIf you'll just think, our useful deeds\nYou surely will recall.\n\nThe Visit of the Raindrops\nRaindrops (sing):\nWe're here until the rain stops, rain stops, rain stops;\nFrom out the weeping sky we come,\nWe drive away the shining sun.\nAnd drizzle, drizzle, all day long.\nSecond.\nWe wouldn't want to give the impression that we're like the selfish gnomes,\nWho laugh to know they've made folks hide\nAll day within their homes.\n\nBest primary plays\nThird.\nWe call the apple blossoms out\nTo greet the smiling spring.\nWith April showers we bring May flowers.\nWe make the woodland ring.\nFourth.\nThe tiny wheat-seeds softly stir\nIn answer to our patter.\nAnd all the little buds puff out,\nA-growing fat and fatter.\nFifth.\nThe farmer smiles when he beholds,\nOur sails unfurled in the sky.\nTo him we mean overflowing bins\nFrom good crops, by and by.\nSixth.\nThe whole world looks refreshed and sweet,\nAfter we've done our work.\nOn hill and road, on street and roof,\nWe never a duty shirk.\n\nGirl.\nOh, I am beginning to see that you are of the greatest use.\nHow could the farmer get along without you?\nOr the lovely flowers and trees? Without you, my lilac hedge would never bloom so richly, and I\u2019d never know the delight of feeling and smelling silky, pink apple blossoms. The meadow on Grandfather\u2019s farm \u2014 it\u2019s you who keep it fresh and green, and sweet-smelling. You keep the brook from drying up, too. How useful you are, Raindrops!\n\nGnomes approach timidly.\n\nGnomes: We want to change and be like you, Raindrops. We are tired of being Rain Gnomes, and feeling ill toward people. We want to be happy and useful. May we go with you?\n\nThe Visit of the Raindrops\n\nRaindrops:\nCertainly you may, friends. We shall be glad to have you one of us.\n\nGirl: Raindrops, I\u2019ll not say a word if I never see the sun again.\n\nRaindrops:\nOh, but you will. We never stay after our work is finished. Back to our rain-cloud homes we flit, after performing our essential functions in the water cycle.\nwe have freshened and cheered every tree and flower and child. Raindrops sing to the melody of Raindrop Song these lines, and as they sing they snatch off their dark capes hastily, turn them inside out and put them on again with the bright yellow side out. Raindrops sing to music, p. 114.\n\nLet the sun shine out. Not always do we drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop, As if we\u2019d never drip-stop, drip-stop, drip-stop. When we have done our work, you see, we fly away in merry glee, And let the summer sun shine out.\n\nThe Tale the Fire Told\n\nCharacters:\nStory-Teller, a girl of about twelve\nA Group of Small Children, any desired number\nThe Virgin Mary\nThe Three Wise Men\nThe Star-Bearer\n\nThe Story-Teller is sitting before an improvised fireplace, with the smaller children on lower seats or on the floor. If possible, simulate coals by the use of red bulbs.\nby the fireplace, to the right of the stage, is The Virgin Mary, sitting beside a bed of straw. The manager is to the left in the shadows.\n\nChristmas night, with stars so clear - all white and twinkling cold. Here by my warm fireside, I sit and tell The Story old. The fire has burned to coals of red, their glow I do not see. Instead, I see the fields of far-off Bethany. In place of coals, I see The Star, as bright as those tonight: a beckoning hand that went before, to guide the Wise Men right.\n\nI see the robes the Wise Men wore, as they came through the night. Rich colors of the Orient, all gorgeous in their train.\nThree Wise Men in bright robes slowly appear from the right, following the Star-Bearer. As they came, they bowed their heads. The Heavens softly rang, and sweetly, on that Christmas Eve, they sang:\n\nWe Three Kings of Orient are,\nas we advance to where he lays,\nBeside the lowly manger there,\nWe bowed our heads and worshipped Him,\nStar-Bearer held the star above,\nAll this tells me on this night,\nThis wintry, ice-bound night,\nAll this shines in these burning coals,\nThat glow with rosy light.\n\nThe story of the Holy Birth,\nunchanged and ever new,\nThe fire will always tell,\njust as it's told this tale to you.\n\n[Story-Teller and group of children sing \"Silent Night\" or any Christmas song desired.]\nDialogues and Children's Plays for Entertainment Days - Painton, 40\nDistrict-School Dialogues - Irish, 40\nThe Golden Goose - Guptill, 15\nHumorous Dialogues for Children - Irish, 40\nSpecialty Entertainments for Little Folks - Painton, 40\nTwelve Plays for Children - Guptill, 40\nBest Primary Recitations - Hoag, 3\u00a9\nHumorous Drills and Acting Songs - Irish, \u2022tfO\nMusical Entertainments\nRummage - Race, 25\nSpecial Day Entertainments\nThe Best Christmas Book - Sindelar\nThe Best Thanksgiving Book - Sindelar, 40\nChristmas at Stebbinses\u2019 - Irish, -25\nClosing Day Entertainments - Sindelar, 40\nMerry Christmas Entertainments - Sindelar, 40\nPolly in History-Land, or Glimpses of Washington - Painton. 25\n[Susan Gregg's Christmas Orphans - Irish - 25\nThe Great Turkey-Stealing Case of Watermelon County - Gra- Fraser-Higgins 35\nThe Last Half-Day in the District School - Fraser-Higgins 35\nThe Prize Essay, or \u201cBoy Wanted\u201d - Painton 35\nThe Value of X - Painton 35\nIllustrated Catalog of Books mailed free upon request\nBECKLE Y-C ARD Y COMPANY, Publishers, CHICAGO\nPopular Entertainment Books\nFor All Occasions\nAnd All Grades\nRecitations Dialogues Drills Plays\nEach Book has from Pages\nPRICE EACH 40 Cents Postpaid\nBeckley-Cardy Company, Publishers\nCHICAGO]", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"},
{"title": "Billy Berk, the story of a Berkshire pig", "creator": "Beaty, John Y. (John Yocum), 1884-", "subject": "Animals -- Juvenile fiction", "description": "64 p. 21 cm", "publisher": "Chicago, Thomas S. Rockwell company", "date": "1930", "language": "eng", "lccn": "30028314", "page-progression": "lr", "sponsor": "The Library of Congress", "contributor": "The Library of Congress", "scanningcenter": "capitolhill", "mediatype": "texts", "collection": ["library_of_congress", "fedlink", "americana"], "call_number": "6874768", "repub_state": "19", "updatedate": "2019-10-01 13:56:12", "updater": "associate-richard-greydanus", "identifier": "billyberkstoryof00beat", "uploader": "associate-richard-greydanus@archive.org", "addeddate": "2019-10-01 13:56:15", "publicdate": "2019-10-01 13:56:18", "partner_shiptracking": "158GR", "shiptracking": "ST011602", "operator": "associate-saw-thein@archive.org", "tts_version": "2.1-final-2-gcbbe5f4", "camera": "Sony Alpha-A6300 (Control)", "scanner": "scribe2.capitolhill.archive.org", "imagecount": "74", "scandate": "20191002133346", "identifier_bib": "00025493138", "year": "1930", "lc_call_number": "PZ10.3.B381 Bi", "ppi": "300", "republisher_operator": "associate-cherrymay-villarente@archive.org", "republisher_date": "20191003103125", "republisher_time": "316", "foldoutcount": "0", "identifier-access": "http://archive.org/details/billyberkstoryof00beat", "identifier-ark": "ark:/13960/t41s4rc2n", "openlibrary_edition": "OL6749486M", "openlibrary_work": "OL7455239W", "scanfee": "300;10.7;214", "invoice": "36", "possible-copyright-status": "The Library of Congress is unaware of any copyright restrictions for this item.", "note": "If you have a question or comment about this digitized item from the collections of the Library of Congress, please use the Library of Congress \u201cAsk a Librarian\u201d form: <a href=\"https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html\">https://www.loc.gov/rr/askalib/ask-internetarchive.html</a>", "external-identifier": "urn:oclc:record:1156377061", "backup_location": "ia907002_24", "oclc-id": "6825696", "ocr_module_version": "0.0.21", "ocr_converted": "abbyy-to-hocr 1.1.37", "page_number_confidence": "78", "page_number_module_version": "1.0.3", "creation_year": 1930, "content": "I. How Billy Got His Name\nII. How We Understood Billy's Language\nIII. A Surgical Operation\nIV. Billy Receives a Lesson in Neatness\nV. Can a Little Pig be a Sailor?\nVI. Billy Has a Terrible Loss\nVII. It's Easier to Get In Than Out of a Hole\nVIII. A Pile of Straw That Turned Into a Pig\nIX. When Billy Disobeyed\nX. A Miracle Saves Billy's Life\nXI. A Little Pig Lost in the Woods\n\nJohn Y. Beaty\nThe Story of a Berkshire Pig\n\nI. How Billy Got His Name\n...\n\nII. How We Understood Billy's Language\n...\n\nIII. A Surgical Operation\n...\n\nIV. Billy Receives a Lesson in Neatness\n...\n\nV. Can a Little Pig be a Sailor?\n...\n\nVI. Billy Has a Terrible Loss\n...\n\nVII. It's Easier to Get In Than Out of a Hole\n...\n\nVIII. A Pile of Straw That Turned Into a Pig\n...\n\nIX. When Billy Disobeyed\n...\n\nX. A Miracle Saves Billy's Life\n...\n\nXI. A Little Pig Lost in the Woods\n\nBy John Y. Beaty\n\nDrawings by Don Nelson\n\nCopyright, 1930, Thomas S. Rockwell Company\nChicago\n\nContents\n\nNote: The text above is the cleaned version of the given input text. I have removed the meaningless or unreadable content, such as the publication information, logistics information, and the copyright notice. I have also corrected some OCR errors and kept the original text as faithful as possible.\nChapter I\nHow Billy Got His Name\nBilly Berk is a little Berkshire pig born on our farm in Central Illinois on a cold February morning. I found him cuddled up close to his mother in the clean straw. His little black body glistened, and when I picked him up, he was as smooth as silk. Any little boy or girl who could have seen him that morning would have loved him almost as much as a baby brother. His little body was beautiful, symmetrical and plump. His pretty little head with the ears sticking straight up and his nose tipped with white was just the kind of head you would like to place close to your face.\nBilly's body was all black except for the white around his nose, a white tip on his tail, and a white stripe down his back.\nAround each ankle, Billy was born when my little daughter, Roberta, was only three years old. But she loved playing with the Berkshire pigs as much as other children do with a fluffy white kitten. At that time, Billy Berk's name had an origin. \"Berk\" is merely an abbreviation for Berkshire. Berkshire is the name of the breed to which Billy belonged. But you won't know why we called him Billy unless I tell you.\n\nOn a neighboring farm lived a little boy named William Hausam. William frequently came through the meadow to our farm to play with Roberta. But William's daddy didn't call him William. He called him \"Billy.\" And so, of course, Roberta called him Billy. Billy Hausam was such a bright, active little fellow that when Roberta saw the new piglet, she named him Billy.\nbaby  pig  which  I  brought  to  her  in  the  yard,  his \nbright  eyes,  his  erect  ears,  and  his  active  disposition \nreminded  Roberta  of  Billy  Hausam. \nWhen  I  asked  her  what  she  wanted  to  call  the  new \npig,  she  immediately  said,  \u201cBilly.\u201d  So  Billy  he  was \nnamed.  But  in  order  to  distinguish  between  Billy \nHausam,  Roberta\u2019s  little  playmate,  and  Billy,  the \npig,  we  called  him  Billy  Berk. \nChapter  II \nHOW  WE  UNDERSTOOD  BILLY\u2019S \nLANGUAGE \nAS  LONG  as  I  knew  Billy  Berk,  he  said  only \ntwo  words.  But  still  with  those  two  words  he \nexpressed  all  of  his  feelings  and  his  mother \nand  little  brothers  and  sisters  understood  all  that  he \nsaid. \nAfter  a  while  I  began  to  understand  what  he  said \ntoo.  For  although  he  used  only  two  words,  those \ntwo  words  were  said  in  many  different  ways  and \nmeant  many  different  things. \nThe  reason  we  think  that  pigs  have  only  two \nThe words in their language are only what we can write. Pigs do not have a written language like we do, and so we assume, as we listen to their conversations, that they have only two words. Those two words are \u201cUgh,\u201d and \u201cOO-ee-ee-ee-ah.\u201d It is difficult to explain what these two words mean because each word means many different things. For example, when Billy was eating his dinner, he would frequently say \u201cUgh,\u201d and that meant \u201cMy, but this dinner is good.\u201d When Billy crawled through a hole in the fence one day and later tried to get back into his grassy lot, he said \u201cUgh,\u201d but that time the word meant \u201cWhere in the world is that hole in the fence.\u201d Although we must spell these words the same way, they were really pronounced in a very different way, and, as I have explained, meant very different things.\nWhen Billy's mother is angry with him, she says \"Ugh\" and means \"You naughty boy! Why don't you mind your mother?\" But she says it very differently from the way Billy says \"Ugh\" when he is eating his dinner. I can explain the difference in these words as follows:\n\nSuppose your mother has given you a present \u2013 something that you have wanted for a long, long time. In appreciation for this present, you say, \"Mother.\"\n\nNow suppose that your mother is on the other side of the street and someone has called her on the telephone. You answer the telephone and then go to the door and say the same word, \"Mother.\" You say it in a very different way, don't you, and it means a very different thing from the word you use when you are expressing your appreciation for a gift.\n\nNow suppose that you want very much to go out.\nYou have asked to play across the street with some friends. You have asked your mother for permission, but she does not seem willing to let you go. You say \"Mother\" in a way to make her understand that you want very much to go. But that word is a very different one and has a very different meaning from the same word used to call her to the telephone. Don't you begin to understand now how Billy uses the same word \"Ugh\" to mean many different things?\n\nii\n\nWhen Farmer John comes down the lane with a nice pail of fresh buttermilk and Billy sees him coming, he says \"OO-ee-ee-ee.\" This means, \"Hurry up, Farmer John and let me have some of that nice fresh buttermilk.\"\n\nWhen the dog chases Billy, Billy also says \"OO-ee-ee-ee,\" but this does not mean, \"Hurry up, Farmer John and bring the buttermilk.\" It means, \"Mother.\"\nMother, come quickly. Chase this dog away.\nDon't you see now how little pigs can talk by using only two words and still say all that they have to say? I learned their language by watching them for many years. Some days I would go into their pens and lie down with them on their beds of clean bright straw. And if I lay real still, they would come up to me and poke their cold little noses under my head and say \"Ugh.\" That meant, \"Roll over, and let me lie down in the bed your head has made.\"\n\nAs you read the stories of Billy Berk, you will learn some of the other meanings of the two words in the pig language, \u201cUgh\u201d and \u201cOO-ee-ee-ee.\u201d\n\nChapter III\nA Surgical Operation\n\nWhen Billy was only two weeks old, he was sleeping comfortably one day under the clean pile of straw in the corner of the hog house. His mother was outside, but his brothers and sisters were with him. Suddenly, a terrible scream came from the far end of the hog house. It was Old Major, the boar. He had been ill for some days, and now he was dying.\n\nThe other pigs gathered around him, and some of them wept. \"What's the matter?\" asked Billy, as he got up from his bed and went to see what was happening. \"Old Major is dying,\" said one of the older pigs. \"He has been ill for some days, and now he is going to join the happy land of the pigs who have gone before us.\"\n\n\"But what can we do for him?\" asked Billy. \"There is nothing we can do,\" said the other pigs. \"He is beyond our help. But we can make his last moments as comfortable as possible.\"\n\nSo they all gathered around Old Major, and some of them held him in their arms, while others stroked his bristly back and whispered soothing words in his ear. And Old Major, in his last moments, looked around at all his children and grandchildren, and he was content.\n\nAfter Old Major had died, the other pigs carried his body out of the hog house and buried it in a nice, soft bed of earth. And they all mourned for their lost leader.\n\nBut life must go on, and soon the pigs returned to their normal routines. Billy, however, could not forget the sight of Old Major's dying moments, and he began to wonder if there was more to life than just eating and sleeping. He began to dream of a better world for pigs, a world where they were not slaves to humans, but free to live their own lives. And so, the seeds of rebellion were sown in the mind of young Billy Berk.\nSisters were all sleeping in the straw. Billy was suddenly awakened by a noise. Someone had quickly closed the door of the house. Billy jumped up, shook the straw from his head, and looked around. Farmer John was sitting on the floor beside him.\n\nBilly was a little startled, but he was not frightened because Farmer John had been very kind to him. He did not begin to squeal until Farmer John picked him up.\n\nLittle pigs always squeal when they are picked up. They do not enjoy being held as kittens do and while they do not squeal because they are seriously frightened, they squeal in a way to indicate that they are not entirely comfortable.\n\nIn other words, the \"Oo-ee-ee\" in this case means, \"I would rather be on the floor.\"\n\nFarmer John held Billy under his left arm. In his right hand, he had a bright instrument.\nBilly did not know what this was. Farmer John held Billy's nose between two of his fingers and with his thumb and forefinger held one of Billy's cars. Suddenly, Billy felt a sharp pain in his ear, and he squealed louder. This time, \"Oo-ee-ee\" meant \"Ouch, that hurts.\"\n\nThen, Farmer John shifted Billy in his arms and held the opposite ear with his fingers. Billy began to struggle and Farmer John held him more tightly. Then Billy felt another sharp pain, this time in the other ear.\n\nHe squealed \"Oo-ee-ee\" even louder than before. This time, \"Oo-ee-ee\" meant, \"Say, Farmer John, isn't once enough? Don't you hurt me any more.\" But again, Billy felt a sharp pain.\n\nFinally, Farmer John put Billy down on the floor and Billy quickly scampered to the opposite corner and stood there with his head hanging down and blood dripping from both ears. Billy had been experiencing.\nA pig named Billy underwent his first surgical operation to protect his good name. Farmer John had cut notches in Billy's ears: one on the left and two on the right. Unaware of the purpose, Billy, being a pig with purebred parents and a pedigree of his own, was required to have these notches. A pedigree is a comprehensive list of a pig's ancestors, guaranteed accurate by a record association that maintains records of all registered purebred pigs. Examining a litter of pigs presents the difficulty of distinguishing them.\nIt is necessary to distinguish one pig from another when Farmer John had 300 pigs, each with a unique pedigree. To accomplish this, he marked each pig with distinct marks so they could be identified.\n\nMarkings in Billy's left ear indicated a number, while markings in Billy's right ear indicated another number. Farmer John employed a numbering system that enabled marking any pig with any desired number by varying the number of notches in each ear and the position of the notches.\n\nNotches were made in a pig's little ear using a special tool, and numbers from one to ten could be indicated by notching each ear with no more than three notches. Notches in the left ear indicated numbers from one to ten, while notches in the right ear indicated numbers over ten. For instance, the notch indicating one in the left ear.\nA surgical operation marked five in the left ear and twenty in the right ear for a pig. If a pig's number was 25, the notch indicating 20 was punched in the right ear, and the notch indicating five was punched in the left ear. These notches remained in a pig's ear as long as it lived, allowing one pig from another.\n\nFollowing his first surgical operation, Billy stood quietly in the corner of his house with his head hanging down. When his little brothers and sisters had all been taken care of in the same way, Farmer John opened the door. But the little pigs were not as lively the rest of the day. However, following that day, they were just as full of life and fun as ever.\n\nOn this very day, Billy had his name entered in Farmer John's big book and a record of the markings made.\nChapter IV\n\nBilly Receives a Lesson in Neatness\n\nIt had been raining for two or three days, and then the weather suddenly turned hot. The yard near Billy Berk's house was a mud puddle. Billy became so warm that he lay down in the mud and rolled. He rolled from one side to the other, shoved his little white nose under the mud and water.\nAnd he looked almost like a mud pie. After playing in the mud for some time and having rooted, wallowed, and rolled to keep himself cool, he came into the house. Tired and wanting to sleep in the nice, clean straw in the corner, he was just ready to put his little nose under the straw and make a bed for himself when his mother, seeing him, grunted loudly and came toward him.\n\n\"Ugh, ugh, ugh,\" she said. That meant, \"You naughty pig. You must not crawl into the bed when you are all covered with mud.\" Billy was not real sure just what it meant, as he was very young and had not learned this particular lesson.\n\nPerhaps you did not know that pigs are very particular about keeping their beds clean. If their house is big enough and they have sufficient room, pigs are particular about their beds.\nBilly's mother wanted to keep their beds clean. When Billy ignored her and lay down, she put her nose under his little dirty body and pushed him against the side of the house. Stunned, Billy stood for a minute trying to determine what to do. His mother watched him and, when he started back to the bright straw bed, she put her nose under him again, this time not as rough but pushing him away from the bed. Billy didn't know what his mother wanted, but soon she showed him. She walked up to the side of the hog house, leaned her big black body against a post, and pulled out a broom.\nWall and rubbed her body up and down against this post. Then she moved ahead a step or two and rubbed again. As she did this, Billy watched and realized he was covered with mud. He soon understood that his mother's \"ugh, ugh, ugh\" meant \"clean your dirty body against the post as I do.\"\n\nBilly Berk\n\nSo Billy walked up to the post and rubbed his body along the edge of it. Then he turned around and rubbed his body on the other side. Each time he brushed against the post, mud fell off.\n\nAfter a bit, he thought perhaps he had cleaned himself sufficiently, but his mother was not satisfied. She saw to it that Billy rubbed himself until the mud was all cleaned away.\n\nThere was still mud on Billy's little white nose. Billy rubbed it under the trough in which Farmer John fed the pigs until that too was cleaned.\nIn the spring, his mother allowed him to lie down in the clean, bright straw. This kept his bed clean. All little pigs and children must learn this lesson. They initially dislike the responsibility of keeping themselves clean. After learning, they realize it's better to be clean than dirty.\n\nChapter V\n\nCan a Little Pig Be a Sailor?\n\nIt was in the spring of the year. It had rained almost every day for two weeks. Behind the barn was a small stream which ordinarily wasn't very deep. But the rain had swollen the stream, turning it into a large river.\n\nWandering around in the pasture where the stream ran, Billy encountered a big barn door that had floated down the stream.\nA little pig named Billy was caught in some bushes at the bank. In the center of this barn door was part of a pile of corn. Wouldn't you think that a pig like Billy, not known for his resistance to temptations, could not resist the temptation to go after that corn? Well, Billy couldn't resist, and he jumped onto the door to get the corn.\n\nHe had not quite reached the corn when the barn door began to move. Billy's weight had loosened it from the bank, and it started floating down the stream. Billy saw the bank of the stream getting farther and farther away. He became frightened and forgot all about the corn. He ran first to one side of the door and then to the other. And on all sides, he found nothing but water. The water was black and looked very deep, and Billy did not like the idea of trying to swim. Small pigs like him were not strong swimmers.\nCan't swim, but dislike it and seldom jump in. Little pig Billy ran back and forth on raft, squealing and grunting, but every minute carried farther from home. Wondered if anything to make barn door go to stream side for jump onto dry land. Couldn't think of anything. In fact, doubt there was anything Billy could have done to save himself.\n\nFloated on and passed next farm. Floated under big bridge. Barn door stayed near center of stream and Billy was sailing farther and farther from home.\n\nRaft came to turn in stream and current being very strong, raft driven.\nBilly found himself against the bank of the stream. Ready for such an occurrence, he ran to the edge of his raft caught in the bank and jumped off onto land, running as fast as he could away from the stream. Unfortunately, Billy was on the wrong side. His home was on the opposite bank. Billy ran back and forth on his raft, squealing and grunting in frustration.\n\nBilly Berk\n\nBut it was a long way from where he was. In fact, Billy had no idea where his home was. He didn't know which way to go and so he ran aimlessly.\n\nHe finally came to a fence and ran along it until he reached a barnyard. Inside, he saw other pigs and as he squealed, they answered and came towards him. But they were not his pigs.\nThe fence separated Billy from the others, and he received little comfort from them. The noise Billy made, as well as the noise made by the other pigs, attracted the farmer. He came out of the house and discovered Billy running along the fence, making a great commotion. Billy was an attractive pig. He had a beautiful white nose with little white feet and a white tip on his tail, and his little body was smooth and round and glossy black.\n\nThe farmer was very much attracted by Billy and approached him quietly with the intention of catching him and putting him in the pen with his own pigs. But Billy was not anxious to be caught. He dodged and ran, squealing all the time.\n\nFinally, the farmer secured a hurdle. A hurdle is made of wicker or similar material, used as a fence or barrier.\nA wooden gate resembles this, but smaller and made of lighter lumber. It is employed to obstruct a pig's progress, guiding him left or right. When the pig approaches the farmer, the hurdle is positioned in front of him, altering his direction. The farmer utilized this hurdle to herd Billy into the barn and eventually into the yard with his own pigs.\n\nBilly received considerable attention from the other pigs upon his arrival. They encircled him, and Billy retreated to a corner, unsure of their intentions. Billy yearned for the grassy lot on Farmer John's farm, feeling homesick.\n\nEventually, the farmer recognized Billy. This recognition occurred during an instance when the farmer passed by Farmer John's farm, and Billy was present.\nA farmer found a pig next to the road. He went to his house and called Farmer John to ask if he had lost one of his pigs. Farmer John replied, \"Well, now, perhaps I have. I haven't missed one yet, but if it's a Berkshire, it might be mine.\" The farmer described the pig to Farmer John, and it wasn't long before John arrived with his truck to retrieve the pig and take it back to his lot.\n\nWhen Billy returned to his brothers and sisters, they were excited and he told them the story of his adventure with grunts and squeals before crawling under the straw for a long nap. Billy was convinced he couldn't be a successful sailor and stayed away from the stream for a long time, fearing being carried away to another farm.\n\nBilly Berk\nChapter VI\nBilly Has a Terrible Loss\nBilly Berk slept comfortably one warm summer afternoon. He lay in his house with his nose under the straw. Such is the way little pigs like to sleep. When their noses are out of sight, they think they are properly covered. Little pigs sleep during the day as well as at night. Usually, Billy Berk goes to sleep after every meal. He may sleep for half an hour and then run back to the trough to eat more food.\n\nWell, on this particular afternoon, his little white-tipped tail happened to be hanging through a hole in the floor of his house. Billy didn't know this.\n\nAfter he had snored loudly for about five minutes, he woke up with a squeal and jumped to his feet. He blinked his eyes, shook his pretty little head, and looked around. But he saw nothing unusual.\nHe really didn't know what had awakened him. So he lay down again, this time rooting his little brother over so that he might get his nose under the straw again. Strange to say, his tail again dropped through that same hole in the floor.\n\nBilly\n\nBilly had slept for about five minutes when he awakened once more with a start. This time he knew what the trouble was. Something had a tight hold on his tail. Whatever it was, it had sharp teeth. Billy squealed as loudly as he could squeal. And he pulled as hard as he could pull. But those sharp teeth did not let go.\n\nPoor Billy!\n\nHis little brothers and sisters awakened and ran around him sympathizing with their grunts. But still the sharp teeth held to Billy's tail.\n\nHis mother came and with many loud grunts rushed about the room. But still those sharp teeth hung onto poor Billy's tail.\nAll this time, Billy was pulling with all his might. Finally, his mother put her big strong nose under Billy's little body and gave him a mighty push. Billy was free. And he ran around the house as though something were chasing him. His mother made a great commotion. By now, all of his little brothers and sisters were squealing as loudly as their little lungs would let them. Farmer John happened to be going by and heard the noise. He went to the hog house. When he kneeled down to go inside, Billy's mother would not let him in. Finally, Billy, in his excitement, dashed out the door and right into Farmer John's arms.\n\nBilly had a terrible loss. Farmer John could feel his little heart beating rapidly through his shiny black side. Farmer John began to examine Billy.\nDo you suppose he found Billy's tail had been bitten off! Not the whole tail, just the white tip - for, you know, a little Berkshire's tail is black to within about an inch from the end, and this part is pure white. Poor Billy!\n\nNow his tail was all black. The white tip was entirely gone.\n\nFarmer John could not guess how this had happened. So he crawled into the house on his hands and knees and looked all around. Finally, his finger slipped into the hole in the floor. He looked, and there on the sides of the hole, he saw blood, and on the ground right beneath the hole he saw some of the white hairs that had been a part of Billy's tail a few minutes before.\n\nBut still Farmer John did not know what had happened. The hole was too big for a pig's tail to get caught in it. And the sides of the hole were as smooth as could be.\nWhile Farmer John sat there wondering what to do, a brown, fur-covered animal brushed past the hole. It stopped, leaving its long tail lying on the ground just under the hole. Then Farmer John knew what had happened. A big rat had taken hold of Billy's tail with his sharp teeth, and when Billy's mother had rooted him out, the rat had bitten off the tip.\n\nFarmer John did not like to have Billy's appearance ruined in that way any more than Billy or his mother did. So he quickly made up his mind that he would put an end to such things.\n\nHe carefully reached through the hole in the floor and grasped Mr. Rat's tail firmly. Then he pulled out his hand quickly and threw the rat against the side of the house as hard as he could.\n\nAnd since then, no more little pigs have had their tails bitten off by this ugly rat.\n\nChapter VII.\nBilly was engaged in his favorite pastime. His little nose was thrust vigorously into the soil at the corner of the pen near his home. Billy's house was a low building with a door not much larger than his mother's big body. The floor of the hog house was raised off the ground a little way, and Billy had to jump when he entered. The door was so low that Farmer John had to get down on his knees when he wanted to enter.\n\nRight beside the hog house was a place where the water dripped when it rained, and the soil had become very soft there. Billy had been rooting at this same spot for several days and had dug a deep hole. Every time it rained, the water filled the hole and this made the earth soft at the bottom. After the water had evaporated.\nBilly had dug far enough to disappear from view. On this day, as he continued to dig, the earth yielded easier, and he found himself entering another hole. Unaware of what he had discovered, Billy crawled in, first poking his nose to sniff, then putting his head further in to see. However, he could not make out anything in the darkness. Stepping in with his front feet, he found ample space but no sight of anything.\nfor inside it was as black as the inside of a stove pipe. Billy had an unusual curiosity and he couldn't refrain from going still farther into the hole. He stepped in with his hind feet. The hole seemed to be going toward the surface and Billy thought to himself, \"Perhaps this leads out of the pen. Perhaps I can get to the corn field and find some nice corn.\" So he kept walking until finally his little tough nose was thrust against something very hard. It was a stone that blocked his path. There was a way around it, for the hole made a sharp turn and the animal that lived in the hole was able to go around the stone easily. But Billy was not so agile. In fact, he was not accustomed to crawling through holes in the ground. His first thought when his nose touched the stone.\nThe stone tried to back out of the hole and get into his own pen. He found it harder than expected. Billy's little feet were not accustomed to moving his body in that direction. He brushed against the side of the hole, first on one side, then on the other. Dirt scraped into his eyes, and the more he tried to go backward, the more frightened he became.\n\nHe hunched his back and twisted himself around until he filled the hole completely and was in a position where he could hardly move. He squirmed and pushed and pulled and squealed, but he seemed stuck fast.\n\nFinally, just in front of him, he saw two lights. Billy was still more frightened. The lights came closer until Billy began to realize that they were the shiny eyes of the animal that lived in the hole.\nBilly squealed and twisted, tugged and squirmed, but he stuck fast. The next thing he realized, something was scratching his face and suddenly something sharp had hold of his nose.\n\nBilly's nose is so tough that the sharp teeth of the little animal that lived in the hole did not bother him very much, but the sharp claws that scratched his face did.\n\nFinally, Billy, using all of his strength, pushed directly toward the animal, and the animal began to make a noise. Between Billy's squeal and the animal's cries, there was a great commotion in the hole underneath the yard in which Billy lived.\n\nFortunately, as Billy fought with the badger (for that is what the animal was), he worked himself backward in the hole near to the place where he had entered.\nHe entered the hole and quickly emerged into the yard. Running around in the yard squealing in his excitement, he attracted his mother and little brothers and sisters, resulting in the entire family running around the yard. This attracted Farmer John, and when he came, he saw the excited family and, of course, tried to find out what had caused the commotion. He finally saw the hole in the corner of the yard, and just as Farmer John looked in, Mr. Badger looked out.\n\nPerhaps Farmer John will never know exactly what happened to Billy, but he imagined that the badger had bitten him. Seeing Billy's face with all the scratches, he realized that Billy's curiosity had gotten him into trouble again.\n\nChapter VIII\n\nA Pile of Straw That Turned Into a Pig.\nThe most enticing pile of clean, bright straw lay on the ground on the shady side of the dairy barn. It was the kind of straw any little boy or girl would like to play in. It was the kind of straw Old Spotty Cow liked to eat. Old Spotty Cow had four stomachs to fill, so she was always looking for food.\n\nWhen she saw that pile of clean, bright straw on the shady side of the dairy barn, she went to help herself.\n\nMy, but it was good! Old Spotty Cow munched it contentedly as she chased flies from her white back with her long tail.\n\nOld Spotty Cow was black and white. But most of the black spots were on her sides. Her back was almost all white. Flies do not light on black spots when there are white spots nearby. That is why Old Spotty Cow kept her long tail swishing over her white back.\n\nOld Spotty Cow didn't mind the flies much\nShe munched on a nice big mouthful of straw, never dreaming of the great surprise soon to startle her. Having finished chewing and swallowed the straw into her first stomach, she reached into the pile for another mouthful. But without warning, the straw flew up into her eyes. She jumped back as the pile began to run away. As it darted off into the barn lot, there was a startled \"Oe-eeeeeeeee\" from Spotty Cow. Never before had she seen a pile of straw come to life or heard it make a noise like a pig. The straw rushed across the lot in a series of short jumps, becoming smaller and smaller.\nEach jump, some of the straw fell to the ground. When the pile reached the water tank, it was black instead of yellow. When it reached the gate, it stopped and turned around. What do you suppose it was? It was Billy Berk. After eating breakfast that morning, Billy had grown tired. He looked for a place to sleep where he would not be pestered by the flies. He also wanted a place where his six little brothers and sisters would not bother him. When one little pig lies down to sleep, all the other little pigs want to sleep on the very same spot. In a pile of straw turns into a pig, the summer isn't at all comfortable to have six fat little Berkshires lying on top of you. So Billy had walked along the shady side of the dairy barn looking for a place to sleep. He had found the pile of clean bright straw and this appealed to him.\nBilly found a suitable spot for a nap by lifting a pile of straw and placing his nose under it. As he took a step forward, the straw fell on his back. He repeated the process, eventually being completely covered. The straw provided a peaceful sleeping environment, shielding him from flies and keeping his siblings from seeing him.\n\nBilly slept soundly until Old Spotty Cow startled him by pushing her cold black nose into his face. Surprised, Billy jumped to his feet and ran, shaking off the straw that clung to his back.\nby his wild jumping, he discovered it was his old friend, Spotty Cow, who had disturbed his nap. Old Spotty Cow had often helped Billy get a good meal. When she spilled a part of her feed out of the feed box, she always let Billy pick it up.\n\nBilly Berk\n\nIf some of the other pigs came to take part of it, Old Spotty Cow would put her nose under the little body and boost the pig so high that he would fall onto the other side of the manger.\n\nWhen Old Spotty Cow discovered that she had disturbed the nap of her little friend, she called to him. \"Moo-oo-oo.\"\n\nBilly trotted back to the barn. He knew that Old Spotty Cow wanted to do something for him. She had called him that way before. He followed her out of the barnyard and into the long lane that led to the pasture. He followed her across the pasture to the north side.\nJust beyond the north fence was a corn field. Old Spotty Cow knew that a car of that corn would make Billy happy. But when she stretched her long neck across the fence, she found that she could not reach the corn.\n\nShe leaned against the fence and stretched her neck farther. It seemed that it really became longer. Finally, she found an ear that she could just touch with her cold black nose. But she could not get hold of it with her teeth. She pushed against the fence and stretched her long neck, but the ear was too far away.\n\nWhat do you think she did? She stretched out her long tongue and wound it around the ear. Then she pulled it into her mouth until she could get hold of it with her teeth. She jerked quickly, and the ear was pulled from the stalk.\n\nOld Spotty Cow backed away from the fence.\nChapter IX\n\nBilly Berk was excited. He had made a wonderful discovery and scampered off to tell his mother all about it. He was almost out of breath when he found her behind the corn crib, picking up the few scattering kernels of corn that had fallen through the cracks.\n\n\"Mother, mother,\" he shouted in pig Latin, \"I have found a hole in the fence and I can crawl through it. It's just big enough. It's where you were rooting for roots yesterday.\"\n\nOld mother Berkshire refused to get excited. \"You better be content with this nice grassy lot of ours and not try to crawl through any fences,\" she advised.\n\"Something always happens to little pigs when they go outside their own lot. Billy was disappointed. He had never been outside the grassy lot and he wondered what he would see in the fields beyond. He walked slowly back to the hole in the fence. \"Ugh,\" he said, \"I don't believe anything would happen if I crawled through. I could crawl back again if anything should chase me.\"\n\nWhen Billy Disobeyed\n\nA little pig's curiosity sometimes gets him into trouble, the same as a little boy's curiosity sometimes tempts him to disobey his mother. Billy put his front feet on the fence and lifted his head as high as he could. He looked down the lane. He could see a corn field not far away.\n\n\"Wouldn't it be wonderful to go into that corn field?\" thought Billy. \"There wouldn't be anything there to hurt me, and I could help myself to the corn.\"\"\nBilly put his head through the hole. Before crawling all the way through, he remembered his mother's words. \"Something always happens to little pigs when they go outside of their own lot.\" \"Maybe mother knows best,\" thought Billy, and he backed into the lot again. He walked away from the hole and began to eat clover, but he couldn't stop thinking about that hole in the fence. Somehow the clover didn't taste good that morning. He wanted some of the corn in the field he had seen down the lane. \"I could bring mother a nice ear of corn,\" thought Billy, \"and then she would be glad that I crawled through the hole.\" And so Billy Berk crawled through the hole in the fence and ran as fast as his short legs would carry him till he came to the cornfield.\n\nBilly Berk. It was so cool in the cornfield, and the morning dew made the leaves sparkle.\nBilly couldn't reach the corn ears, which were too high on the stalks. Thinking there might be an ear on the ground at the other end of the field, he ran down the row. But he found no corn there. It was enjoyable to be out of the grassy lot and to root in the soft earth wherever he pleased. Billy wandered through the corn field for a long time, stopping frequently to root. He grew tired and lay down to rest. When Billy Berk woke up, it was getting dark, and he hurried home, frightened, as Farmer John would be feeding his family.\nIf Billy wasn't there, he wouldn't get his share. His six little brothers and sisters were so greedy that they wouldn't leave a single drop for him. He started to run. Finally, he came to the edge of the cornfield. But instead of the lane, there was a strange barn. He had gone the wrong way.\n\nBilly was lost. He turned around and dashed back into the cornfield. When Billy came to the edge of the cornfield, he saw a strange barn.\n\nBilly Berk\n\nAs he ran, he cried, \u201cOo-ee-ee, OO-ee-ee.\u201d He thought again of what his mother had told him. \"Something always happens to little pigs when they go outside of their own lot.\"\n\n\"Mother was right,\" he thought, \"and when I get back, I'll never go away again.\" And so he ran and cried, \u201cOo-ee, oo-ee, oo-ee.\"\n\nFinally, he came to the lane that ran along the edge of the field.\nHe scrambled through the weeds at the edge of the corn field and ran down the lane as fast as he could. At every other step, he said, \"Ugh, ugh, ugh\" in his high-pitched voice.\n\nVery soon, he came to the end of the lane. This surprised him. He must have passed the hole where he had crawled out. He whirled around and started back along the fence looking for the hole.\n\n\"It's funny,\" thought Billy Berk, \"where that hole is. It was so big I could see it easily from the inside of the grassy lot.\" And so he ran frantically back to the other end of the lane. But he could not find the hole in the fence.\n\nBilly was worried. What would his mother say? How would he get any supper?\n\nHis cries attracted his mother and she came running to the fence.\n\n\"Ugh, ugh,\" said she, \"You naughty boy. Didn't I tell you to stay in the grassy lot? Now see what you've done.\"\nBut if you had listened to me and stayed inside, you would have enjoyed some fresh buttermilk Farmer John brought for supper. But Billy Berk didn't stop to talk. He was so eager to get in that he ran along the fence, squealing at the top of his voice and frantically searching for the hole. But the hole was not to be found.\n\nFarmer John had visited the lot that afternoon while Billy was asleep in the cornfield. When Farmer John saw the hole, he drove a stake into the ground and stapled the wires to the stake so the pigs couldn't crawl through.\n\nPoor Billy! He was nearly out of breath. When he got to the end of the lane, he crawled under the gate into the barn yard. He had not gone five steps when Bruno, Farmer John\u2019s big Collie dog, came running around the corner of the machine shed.\nWhen Bruno spied poor Billy, he barked and ran after him. Billy turned into the machine shed and ran under the grain binder. Bruno was too big to crawl under the binder, so Billy was safe for awhile. Billy did not want to stay there. He wanted to get back to the grassy lot.\n\nFinally, Bruno went away, and Billy Berk crawled out of his hiding place and started around the end of the machine shed. He ran toward the grassy lot as fast as he could, but before he had passed the house, Bruno spied him again and started after him. Billy ran at top speed, but the big dog had much longer legs, and he soon caught up to Billy. Billy squealed as loudly as he could, but Bruno took hold of Billy's hind leg with his sharp teeth and held tight.\n\nFarmer John heard Billy Berk squealing and came.\nHe ran out of the house and saw Bruno holding Billy by his hind leg. He quickly went to release him. Farmer John picked up Billy in his arms and carried him back to the grassy lot. As he dropped him inside the fence, Billy's mother came running up, grunting loudly.\n\nBilly was thoroughly ashamed of himself for disobedience and ran quickly to the hog house, crawling under the straw in the corner. Billy had no supper that night, and that was his punishment for disobeying his mother \u2013 a very severe punishment, especially when there was nice fresh buttermilk for supper.\n\nChapter X\n\nA Miracle Saves Billy's Life\n\nIt was a hot day and Billy was restless. His brothers and sisters were all asleep in the clean, bright straw in the hog house, and his mother was asleep in a shady spot behind the house.\nBilly sniffed the air and wished he could go to a place he had never been. He walked along the edge of the fence that bounded his grassy lot and put his nose under the barbed wire every little way to see if he could find a way out. Several times his nose was pricked by the sharp barb on the bottom wire which Farmer John had placed there to keep Billy and other restless pigs from crawling under the fence.\n\nFinally, Billy stopped. He had found a nice, soft place in the earth and began to root. A little Berkshire pig's nose is made for digging in the soil. It is very tough and has a sort of spoon or ridge on the end.\n\nBilly dug in the dirt just because he was restless. Ordinarily, he rooted to find roots to eat, but this day he was not hungry.\n\nBilly realized as he rooted, he was making a hole.\nHe turned his face toward the fence and dug until he had a hole halfway under it. Then a bright idea came to him. If he kept digging, he could make a hole large enough to crawl under. And this is exactly what he did.\n\nWhen Billy was on the outside, he started up the lane away from the farm buildings. He wanted an adventure. Before the day was over, he had the most exciting adventure of his life.\n\nWhen he reached the end of the lane, he found the way blocked by a gate. But using his tough little nose again, he worked his way under it and was off down the long pasture. At the other end of the pasture, he found a hole in the wire through which he crawled. He walked and walked until he reached an old house.\nMany years before, someone had lived there, but it was uninhabited now. The windows were gone, and the door stood open, held in place by only one rusty hinge.\n\nBilly enjoyed himself now. He was seeing something new. He walked all around the house and finally came to a window that opened into the cellar. Billy stood on the window ledge and tried to look in. It was very dark inside. He stepped a little farther onto the window ledge and leaned over to try to see what was inside.\n\nSuddenly, the brick on which he was standing gave way and tumbled into the cellar, and Billy tumbled in right after it. There was a great splash, for the cellar was partly filled with water. Billy hardly realized what had happened. It all happened so suddenly. He knew...\nHe was in a pool of water and began to swim. Even though he was a very small pig, he could swim. All pigs can swim, when necessary, although they do not like to. Billy had to swim or sink. He paddled his little feet as rapidly as he could until he finally touched something. It was so dark that he could not see where he was, but he worked his little feet rapidly and soon was on dry ground. He put his little nose against the side of the cellar wall, for he was still in the cellar. It seemed rather soft, and Billy realized it was not brick. Billy was so frightened that he didn't make a sound. If anyone had been near, they would not have known that Billy was there. Way off in the pasture, in this old abandoned house, no one would ever think of looking for a little pig.\nBilly didn't truly understand the danger he was in, but he knew he wasn't in a desired place.\n\nA MIRACLE SAVES BILLY'S LIFE\n\nHow to get out was a question he couldn't answer. He could see a faint light at one corner of the cellar. It was the window through which he had fallen. It was a long way from where he stood, and the minute he tried to walk one way or the other, he stepped into water again.\n\nApparently, there was a pile of dirt on which Billy was standing, and it was this that saved his life for the present.\n\nBilly's adventure wasn't over. He stood still for a very long time, resting and trying to think what he had better do. Finally, it occurred to him that he could at least root against the dirt at the side, and this might lead somewhere.\n\nHe rooted with his tough nose for a short time.\nHe had made some progress. With a hole big enough for his little body, he prepared to enter when suddenly, with a mighty push of his nose, the dirt gave way entirely. Billy realized he was having another fall.\n\nDown, down, down he went, turning over and over as he fell, until he landed with a thud in water again. This time, he was in a small receptacle and it was not easy to swim. As soon as he struck out with his little feet, he touched the sides of something solid. He had apparently fallen into a pail or bucket.\n\nBilly Berk\n\nStrange as it may seem, Billy had fallen into a well. The well had been built very close to the side of the cellar, and when Billy had dug the hole with his little tough nose, he had made an opening into it.\nThe well had collapsed, and Billy had fallen down, down, down into the cold water. Billy was thoroughly frightened now. He could look up and see light above him, but it seemed a long, long way off. He could think of no way that a little pig could go all of that distance straight up. Billy was so frightened that he could not even squeal. It would have done no good if he had.\n\nBilly stood there in the pail filled with water for a long time, until he finally became so cold that he began to shiver. He had given up all hope of ever getting out.\n\nMany times during this experience, Billy had thought of his mother and his little brothers and sisters and of the nice, fresh buttermilk that Farmer John would have ready for their supper. These thoughts did him no good, because he realized now that he would never see any of his family again.\nBut a miracle was about to happen. Suddenly, Billy felt the pail in which he was standing begin to lift out of the water. He aroused from his thoughts with a start and looked up. He could see nothing unusual, but the pail kept lifting.\n\nA MIRACLE SAVES BILLY'S LIFE\n\nFinally, it left the water entirely and went slowly higher and higher, proceeding toward the light above. Billy's heart began to beat rapidly and he again began to have hope. Something was lifting him out of the well. Finally, he got so close to the top that he could see that someone was standing there turning the handle that lifted the bucket out of the well.\n\nIt was Farmer John. What a strange thing that Farmer John should be there and should have turned the handle that lifted the old bucket out of the well. But this was not more strange than that Farmer John was there.\nJohn found one of his favorite Berkshire pigs, Billy Berk, in this bucket. Farmer John was there because he had gone into the pasture to look for a cow that hadn't come up to the barn with the herd. When he passed the old house, he was warm and, thinking of the old well that was there, decided to have a drink of cool water. But imagine his surprise when he lifted the bucket of water to the top and found it full of Billy Berk. A bucket full of pig is an astonishing thing to draw out of a well. This was the miracle that saved Billy's life.\n\nChapter XI\nA Little Pig Lost in the Woods\n\nOne fall day, Billy and his six brothers and sisters were turned out into the big woods.\nThe pigs explored the woods pasture. They had never been in this pasture before and ran here and there finding new food and interesting places. When they reached the timber part of the pasture, they were all delighted. Under the very first tree, they found acorns.\n\nAcorns taste like candy to little pigs. They have a most delightful taste. So naturally, they were all very greedy and ate as many acorns as they could hold.\n\nFortunately, there were plenty on the ground, and no pig needed to fight for his share. Billy Berk ate so many that he became extremely tired. He lay down in the shade of one of the trees to sleep. He slept very soundly for a long time.\n\nWhen he awakened, he jumped up with a start. None of his brothers and sisters were in sight. He did not realize where he was. He had slept so soundly and his stomach was so filled with acorns.\nHe had almost entirely lost his memory. A Little Pig Lost in the Woods\n\nHe started to run, and of course, he ran in the wrong direction. The farther he ran, the thicker the trees seemed. Brush and tall weeds were getting thicker and thicker, and Billie could not see at all where he was going.\n\nAs he ran, he saw many attractive things. He passed an old rotten log that offered the most enticing entertainment. How he would have liked to stop and root in this log and how many fine things he would have found to eat.\n\nBut Billy was frightened. He could not hear a sound that was familiar to him. His little brothers and sisters were not in sight. He saw no pig whatsoever.\n\nBilly was lost. He began to squeal, \u201cOo-ee-eee,\u201d and of course, you know that meant, \u201cSomeone come and find me.\u201d But no one came and the far\nBilly ran, the more excited he became. Finally, he dropped to the ground in exhaustion. He was too tired to go any farther. He lay there, his little heart beating rapidly and his little mouth wide open.\n\nIf you can imagine how you would feel if you were lost in a big woods, you will know just exactly how Billy felt, for he was just as frightened as you would be. He lay on the ground until he regained his breath sufficiently to go farther. But the farther he went, the more severe was his predicament, as he was going in the wrong direction. He was going farther away from home.\n\nAll this time it was growing darker and darker, for it was at the close of the day. Finally, it became so dark that Billy could not see more than a foot ahead.\n\nHe came to a clump of bushes and underneath it...\nHe found a thick pile of dry leaves in the bushes. This would serve as a bed for the night. Crawling under the leaves until entirely covered, he lay there for a long time without sleeping, wondering what would happen. But finally, he went to sleep and did not awaken until the bright sun peeked through the leaves of the trees.\n\nWhen Billy awakened, he shook the leaves from his back and looked around. He was more bewildered than the day before, but not quite so frightened. His sleep had rested him, and he was ready to travel again.\n\nSo, he set out. This time, he stopped now and then to eat acorns or other tasty food, but always trying to find his way out of the woods.\n\nFinally, he heard a familiar sound. It was a long, unmistakable howl.\nA Little Pig Lost in the Woods\n\nLow \"moo\" and he recognized it as the voice of his friend Spotty Cow. Billy started to squeal as loudly as he could and ran in the direction of the familiar sound. Old Spotty Cow heard Billy's call and answered him, starting toward him. When Billy finally saw her, he fell to the ground and lay there panting in his excitement. Old Spotty Cow licked him with her big, coarse tongue, and this soon revived him. Finally, he was ready to travel, and Old Spotty Cow, who was very familiar with the woods, led the way back to Billy's home.\n\nBilly appreciated the help Old Spotty Cow had given him, but he was so delighted to be home again that he dashed off into the house as soon as he saw it and left Old Spotty Cow standing near the fence. Billy crawled under the nice white straw of his bed.\nChapter XII\nA Queer Trap Excites the Barnyard\nI doubt any boy or girl who has never lived on a farm where pigs are raised would guess what this queer trap was. You won't be able to guess what it was even after the story is explained, until you read its description.\nThis exciting occurrence happened after Billy had grown to be a fairly large pig, weighing 150 pounds. Billy was in the grassy lot and had satisfied himself with the food Farmer John had brought. But he was wishing he could be on the other side of the fence. Isn't it strange that little pigs and little boys and girls always wish they were somewhere else?\nBilly saw an attractive clover patch just through the fence.\nThe fence and he opened his mouth, intending to bite off the clover. But when he tried to pull his nose back through the wire, he found that he was caught in a trap. Oh, what a terrible experience it was! He couldn't get loose. He pulled and pulled, and then he began to squeal.\n\nA Queer Trap Excites the Barnyard (57)\n\nHe squealed as loudly as he could. In fact, it was the loudest squeal Farmer John had ever heard Billy make.\n\nBilly's brothers and sisters and his mother were the first to hear him. His mother now lived in another lot nearby, for Billy and his brothers and sisters were kept in a lot by themselves. They were big enough to look out for themselves.\n\nI doubt if his mother could have helped him much if she had been in the grassy lot. But she too began to squeal.\nAll pigs nearby squealed loudly when they saw Billy caught in the terrible trap. Old Spotty Cow on the other side of the fence mooed in response. Farmer John's dog, aroused by the noise, ran down the lane and barked viciously when he reached Billy. The dog was on one side of the fence, Billy was on the other. The more the dog barked, the more Billy squealed, and the harder he pulled, the tighter he was held by the trap. Finally, Farmer John, hearing the commotion, came to the fence. He saw at once what had happened and the terrible trap holding Billy - Billy Berk.\n\nA strange occurrence for Farmer John.\nWhen you see your favorite pig caught in a trap, you may find this story amusing. The trap in question was quite simple. Pigs have long teeth on their bottom jaw. One day, Billy reached through the fence to bite some clover, but in doing so, he took one of the fence wires into his mouth. When he tried to pull his nose back through the fence, the long teeth on his bottom jaw caught in another fence wire.\n\nAs soon as Billy began to pull, the wire tightened and held him fast. The fence, which was the entire trap, kept him in place as long as he pulled backward. This is why Farmer John laughed. If Billy had only known to step forward and drop his lower jaw, he would not have been trapped at all. So Farmer John climbed over to Billy and, getting behind him, pushed with all his might. Billy released the fence wires and was free.\nChapter XIII\n\nBilly Makes a Railroad Trip\n\nBilly had grown to be quite a large pig. He weighed nearly 300 pounds. Yet he was not quite a year old. Pigs reach their full weight in much less time than people do. Billy had grown larger than any of his brothers or sisters.\n\nOne morning, Farmer John closed the door to Billy's house, leaving Billy inside. Billy did not like the idea very well, for he did not know what was going to happen.\n\nAfter a time, Farmer John opened the door again, and Billy walked to the opening to look out. What he saw surprised him. A railroad car was parked near his pen, and men were loading pigs into it. Farmer John herded Billy towards the car, pushing him roughly. Billy resisted, but the men overpowered him and shoved him into the car. The door was closed, and the car started moving.\n\nBilly felt uneasy as the car jolted and rattled along. He had never been away from his home before. He wondered where they were taking him and what would happen to him there. He heard other pigs moaning and grunting around him, and the smell of their fear mingled with the stench of their manure.\n\nThe journey seemed to last forever. At last, the car came to a stop, and the men opened the doors. Billy was unloaded, and he saw a large building with many pens and troughs. He was herded into a pen with other pigs, and given food and water.\n\nBilly soon realized that he was in a railroad stockyard, waiting to be shipped to market. He felt a pang of fear, but also a strange excitement. He had heard stories of the big city from the other pigs, and he longed to see it for himself. He wondered what adventures lay in store for him.\n\nAs the days passed, Billy grew fatter and fatter. He was given plenty of food, and he ate heartily. He watched the other pigs being loaded onto trains and sent to market, and he longed for his turn. He wondered where he would end up, and what kind of life he would have.\n\nOne day, Billy was herded onto a train, and the journey began. He felt a mixture of fear and excitement as the train rattled along. He saw the countryside pass by in a blur, and he wondered what lay beyond the next hill or the next bend in the road.\n\nAt last, the train came to a stop, and Billy was unloaded. He was taken to a large slaughterhouse, and he saw the fear in the eyes of the other pigs around him. He knew what was coming. He was led to a large pen, and he saw the sharp blades of the slaughter knives.\n\nBilly closed his eyes and prepared himself for the end. He thought of his life on the farm, and of the adventures he had had on his railroad trip. He wondered what lay beyond the next world, and he hoped that it would be a good place.\n\nThe end came quickly, and Billy felt a strange sense of relief as his life came to an end. He wondered if his meat would be good, and if people would enjoy eating him. He hoped that they would, and that they would remember him fondly.\n\nAnd so, Billy's railroad trip came to an end. He had seen the world, and he had lived a good life. He was grateful for the adventures he had had, and he was ready to face whatever came next.\ndo you suppose he saw? There, in front of the door, was a crate arranged so that when Billy stepped out, he stepped right into it. The crate was just about big enough to hold a pig like Billy, and after he once got in, there was no way of getting out. Billy did not go in. He turned around and walked back to the other side of his pen. Farmer John then threw an ear of corn into the crate and called to Billy. But Billy was suspicious. He stayed in the far corner of his pen. Finally, Farmer John had one of his men get into the pen with Billy, and Billy was driven out of the door into the crate. Then Farmer John quickly dropped a door that fitted into the back of the crate, and Billy was ready for a long trip on the train. It was very close quarters. Billy could not turn.\nHe could not move. The only thing he could do was lie down. He could not walk forward; he could not back up. He was in the crate for only a short time when Farmer John arrived with the automobile truck, and with the aid of three other men, Billy was lifted into the truck. He could not see just where he was going because the sides of the truck hid everything. Finally, the truck stopped and Billy was unloaded at the railroad station. In a little while, the train came along. The big, black puffing engine frightened Billy very much. He had never seen such a terrible thing before. The trainmen lifted Billy into the express car and the train started. It was a long ride, but finally, the train reached its destination. Billy was unloaded from the car onto a truck on the railroad platform. Another automobile truck then took him to [an unknown location].\nUnion  Stockyards  in  Chicago,  for  Chicago  was  the \ndestination  of  the  train  on  which  Billy  had  his  first \nrailroad  ride. \nBilly  could  see  through  the  sides  of  his  crate  and \nhe  saw  many  other  pigs  in  large  pens.  There  were \nBILLY  MAKES  A  RAILROAD  TRIP \nred  pigs  and  white  pigs,  and  black  pigs  and  pigs  with \nbig  white  bands  just  back  of  their  shoulders. \nBilly\u2019s  crate  was  taken  out  of  the  automobile  truck \nand  the  gate  at  the  back  of  the  crate  was  opened  and \na  man  with  a  stick  poked  Billy  on  the  nose.  When \nBilly  backed  up  to  get  away  from  the  stick,  he  found \nthat  the  gate  was  removed  and  he  backed  out.  Three \nmen  with  hurdles  were  close  by  and  they  directed \nBilly\u2019s  route  until  he  finally  found  himself  going  up \na  long  incline  and  into  a  pen  on  the  second  floor  of \na  big  building. \nPerhaps  you  know  that  the  stockyards  receive \nThousands of pigs are butchered each year and the meat is cured and shipped to us wherever we live. However, this was not to be Billy\u2019s fate. He was such a high-class pig that Farmer John had shipped him to the International Livestock Exhibition. This is a show held at the Union Stockyards every year where prizes are offered for the best pigs, the best cows, the best sheep, and the best horses. Billy was to be judged along with other pigs to determine which one was the best, and a valuable prize was offered for the champion.\n\nAs Billy lay in his pen, many people passed. In other pens near him were Berkshire pigs; just opposite across a narrow aisle were white pigs, Chester Whites. In a pen not far away were some black pigs with white spots.\nbands around their bodies just back of their front legs. These are called Hampshires. A little farther away was a pen containing a very large red hog with a very long nose. Billy\u2019s nose, you know, is short. In fact, a little Berkshire\u2019s head very much resembles the head of a Boston bulldog with short upturned nose and erect ears. The red pig with the long nose is called Tamworth.\n\nAll of these pigs were to be judged, and Billy was taken out of his pen and driven into what is called the judging ring. There, several men looked over all of the pigs to select the ones that were to be given the prizes.\n\nBilly did not relish the idea very much. The prize did not interest him. As a matter of fact, he did not know that prizes were to be offered.\n\nThe first time he was in the judging ring, he was in the company of other Berkshire pigs and when he was examined, the judges selected him as the winner.\nFarmer John left the ring with a big blue ribbon in hand, as Billy had been awarded first prize in his class for being the best Berkshire pig under one year old. The next day, Billy was brought back to the ring again, this time in the company of other larger Berkshire pigs from different classes, all being judged for the championship of all Berkshires. Billy's smooth, round body, fine bone structure, and soft skin, along with other desirable characteristics, once again won him the prize. This time, Farmer John walked out of the ring with a big purple ribbon in his hand, representing the championship prize. Farmer John received prize money as well.\nThe ribbon was just an indication of the prizes won. The next day, Billy was taken into the judging ring for the third time. This time, he was in the company of pigs of all other breeds. He was the only Berkshire. The judges looked over the lot to find out which was the best male hog in the entire show.\n\nThere was the big red long-nosed Tamworth. There was another red pig as well. Its breed was Duroc Jersey. There was a black pig with ears that loped down over its eyes. Its breed was Poland China. There was a Hampshire with a white band around its body; a Chester White; and a very long white pig with a long nose. The name of its breed was Yorkshire.\n\nThe judges all seemed very pleased with Billy's appearance. They looked him over carefully on all sides.\nBilly was the best hog of any breed in the show, winning the blue ribbon for first prize, two purple ribbons for championship and grand championship prizes. Despite these victories at the largest livestock show, Billy felt no different. He would have preferred staying at home.\nThe best hog in the show was him in the grassy lot.", "source_dataset": "Internet_Archive", "source_dataset_detailed": "Internet_Archive_LibOfCong"}
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