The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-05-19
DE BELLIES RAID.
BY JAMES BAGLEY.

One day last week I was sitting in the small waiting room of the West Shore ferry house, looking through the diDgy panes of glass at the icy river in hopes that the boat would come some time. I was in hurry to cross to the Jersey shore and was impatient at the delay. The ferry master, kindly old man with gray whiskers and a ruddy, smiling face, had told me that the boat would leave at o'clock, and now looking at my watch found that the hands marked 3:15. Would the boat ever come? I had an engagement at Weehawken at 4 o'clock and did not want to miss it. saw the ice crush and crackle as the pieces were iammed against each other by the moving water, and the snow drip from the beams of the bridge and make little rivulets in the furrows of the much worn blanks, but I saw no boat. Just as visions of the little steamer lying wedged in the ice or sinking beneath the blow of some heavier vessel rose before me, I saw the object of my anxiety poke her blunt nose around the pier head and come throbbing into the slip. A deep voice behind me exclaimed, "It's time" Another impatient traveller, thought, and then something familiar in the voice caused me to turn around. I was not mistaken. The owner of the voice was an old friend of mine-John Sul- livan De Belle, United States secret service officer. I reached out my hand to him cordially-we had not met in ever so long-and together we boarded the boat. In answer to my inquiries, he said that he was crossing the river on "business." With natural curiosity wanted to know what the "business'' was.
 "Business for the government" (non- committaD.
 l am of very romantic turn of mind and this reply somewhat piqued me.
 "I did not suppose it was for the good of your health," retorted, with an attempt to be sarcastic, which at- tempt was lost upon my companion, for he only laughed.
 "No," he said, "I get walking enough without making Footprints in the snows of Weehawken. Therefore you are right. It is not a walk for the good of my health."
 "Tell me what it is, won't you?' (persuasively.)
 "It isn't anything in which you could possibly have an interest"
 "Then you won't tell mel"
 "Well, will. Whisper
 "Yes."
 "Tm hunting up den of counter feiters. Now yon mustn't tell any one."
 "Oh, of course not. Where are they?"
 "That Ill have to find out"
 "And you are looking for them now?"
 "Yes."
 "John," and I said this solemnly and as if there was no possibility of a refusal, "I'm going with you"
 "You?"
 He stared at me in blank astonish- ment for a moment and then burst into laugh.
 "Yes, l." I nodded with emphasis.
 "Impossible! A pretty figure I'd make hunting up counterfeiters with woman in tow"
 "I won't be in tow," said severely. even sail abreast. You needn't shake your head and laugh. If there's one thing in life I dote upon it's hunting counterfeiters. I never did hunt any it's true, but want to begin. Now John (coaxingly), do let me go with you; there's dear, good fellow. ] won't be in the way"
 "Why, the idea is absurd"
 "Oh, is it2 I know why you don't want me with you. You are afraid you won't succeed and don't want me to be witness to your failure. Ii you won't take me with you I'll hunt them mp myself, there l"
 This was the last arrow in my quiver, and I thought 1t would strike homo, It did.
 ssNellyr hes said, 4if you'll run th< <hanco6 nome along"
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