T
11 - - II S M
I niiimiffllf--1" -- t I -i r;-. IT '
CIIAriER III Continued.
Bertha Lyle' had come all the way
from Scotland to look after an estate,
supposed to have been left her . by
her father. He and a brother had
come to America eighteen years be
fore, when she was a mere child. At
the age of two years she had lost her
mother, and her father bad placed her
in school and come to America to
drown his troubles and make his for
tune. Before he had been here ten
years the report came that he had
been killed by Indians. This was
shortly after the report that he and
his brother had Inherited an Immense
fortune from a brother in New York,,
and while neither Bertha nor her
friends could ever get any information
concerning what became of this for
tune, her uncle in America had sup
plied her with plenty of funds to
complete her education and meet all
her wants. He wrote her that they
had invested their inheritances to
gether In American property and that
the speculation had proved a failure,
and that while her father had left as
sets above his liabilities there was
nothing to speak of coming to her.
Out of pure benevolence, however, he,
the uncle would see that his niece
should not suffer for" the necessaries
of life.
Economizing the funds he had Bent
her from time to time until her sav
Ings amounted to considerable she
Rtarted for America, not informing
her uncle of her coming until - she
reached New York City, from which
place she wrote him of the probable
date that she would reach Boise City
Army Post. r
Reaching the latter place she grew
Impatient waiting the arrival of an es
cort from her uncle and started with
m- MA
Bertha.
a pack train for the Interior. ' On the
night in which the converstion at the
beginning of this chapter opened, the
pack .train had reached a point on
Snake river on the Old Oregon Trail
near the Oregon 'and Idaho line. For
tunately, on the Bame night, the es-
cort consisting of cowboys, sent out
i-nder the leadership pf, an . expert
frontiersman, met her at this placo.
" Both parties had camped in a small
valley near the river, surrounded" by
mountains covered with jocks and
boulders. The pack train consisted
of thirty mules and two wagons, while
he escort consisted of ten men, be
sides its leader and a dozen horses,
one of which was UBed exclusively for
a pack horse, and another was brought
along for Bertha to ride.
Tired and worn out by the hard
Ehlps of the trail, the packers had
hobbled out their mules, prepared
their meal, and gone to bed early. The
members of the escort, while not so
fatigued, had prepared for retiring
parly also, partly to keep from dis
turbing their neighbors and partly to
be rofreshed for the following day's
Journey, for from this point the pack
train would continue to the west and
Bertha and her escort would take a
course over the trailless. plains' and
mountains to the south,
After, she had retired 'to' a bed of
straw, this girl from a comfortable
home in Scotland had plenty to think
about before she fell asleep. This
burren plains and mountains : over
which she had passed during the past
few days, and the trackless desert be
fore her looked gloomy enough,
but the probable attack from
ludlanB and a long trip through a bar
ren country to her destination were
calculated to Increase her anxiety,
while the reference of the leader of
the escort to the danger from Indians
and the same tribe who, It was al
leged, had murdered her father thick
ened the mantle of gloom that hung
about her, and besides, she did not
.Ike the appearance of the man under
whose charge she had fallen. Wo
nmn's intuition had properly aroused
her suspicions on this point.
How long 8he had been asleep she
did not know when awakened by the
fiercest yells that had ever pierced
her enra, and these intermingled with
the discharging of firearms and a din
of oaths and shouts ag It a thousand
demons were engaged in war. And
it was a war, and the meu fought like
demons! The packers and cowboys,
though outnumbered Ave to one, stood
their ground until the struggle be
came a hand to hand one, and not un
til she had been snatched from her
bod and dragged a short distance and
bound on the back of a horse, and was
being rushed out through a deep can
yen in the mountains, surrounded by
a band of Indian warriors, each seem
ingly claiming her as his prize, did
she fully realize that her people had
lost and that the red skins had won.
It was fortunate for Bertha that she
did not remove her clothing upon re
tiring that night, and that she placed
her ahoeg on her feet upon being first
awakened, for the chill night air of
that altitude even penetrated these.
CAFTER IV.
The Chase.
The following morning showed tha
effects of the Indian raid. Two of the
packers lay dead upon the, ground,
thale scalps taken, while, one of the'
escort had been killed, and three mor
tally wounded. Not a' horse or mule
remained in the vloltiltjj.' . These, an
Important object of the -attack, had
been driven away and treasured more
highly even, than the fair captive,
whom thoy had taken, for stock of
all kinds was scarce with them. They
had been forced Into the rlmrocka and
lava beds by the United States sol
diers, and the scanty vegetation there
had caused their animals to disappear
almost as rapidly as the pangs of hun
ger, which prompted the decaying
race In butchprlng and eattng them.
While viewing the band of fat mules
and horses from the crevices tf the
rimrocks the previous evening, the
eagle eyes of old Egan, the chief, saw
Bertha Lyle In the camp and she was
Indeed a rare picture In this section j
of country, and especially so after the
proposition that had come from j
the lips of Martin Lyle, the
Lord of The Desert.. Aa ., it were,
it wag the killing 'of two birds
with one stone with the chief. It was
the obtaining of animals for his hunr
gry and hard beset tribe and obtain
ing a prize of far more personal value
which meant more wealth for hig tribe
and a white squaw for big wigwam,
After the surprise of the attack of
the previous night the men rallied to
defend the camp. But it was too late,
the work was done. While the main
body of the red men had charged on
the camp, detachments of the Dart
had not been Idle. They corralled the
norseg and had them on the road,
ready to join the main band with their
captive. They disappeared as silently
as they came and the handful of
whites that still survived knew that it
was useless to follow them in the dark,
besides, they did not know but that a
redskin lurked behind every boulder
on me mountain sides.
They had spent the remainder of
the night in ministering to the wound
ed, and preparing the dead for burial.
They were in a predicament indeed.
They had neither horses to pursue the
marauding band of Indians, or to con
tinue their Journey. While some of
the members of the party aroused
at the fate of the white girl,
were willing and anxious to pur
sue . the Indians on foot, all
saw the futility of such an attempt,
and the leader of the escort showed
no concern about her capture and no
Inclination to follow her captors, but
rattier cursed the rate of being left
afoot. The morning was consumed in
burying the dead and the afternoon in
reconnoitering. The trail of the In
dians waa discovered, which showed
that they had gone in a southerly di
rectlon, a course that led to the east
of the stone house, on Mount Juniper.
' Fortunately, that night another pack
train arrived from the west. It had
a few surplus horses, and as these
men of pioneer days were always will
ing to lend a helping hand to the dis
tressed, they supplied the stranded
party with a few horses. The strand
ed packers returned with this train
to Fort Boise, while four members of
the escort with the daring equal to
those times, and against the admoni
tion or tneir leader, entered into a
solemn oath that they would follow
the Indians and would never return
until thoy had recaptured Bertha Lyle
and placed her in the stone house with
her uncle. . Early the following morn
ing, armed and provisioned and
mounted these four started ' out on
the trail of the bandit Indiana. The
packers moved on, taking the wound
ed cowboys with them, all of whom
died and . were - buried - at Boise
C(ty. , Dan Follett and the others
started for the' Stone House. ;,'
The four cowboys who went in pur
suit of the Indians were familiar with
that part of the desert, and being on
comparatively fresh horses made bet
ter time than the Indians, so that by
night they -came to where the red
men had stopped to prepare their din
ner the same day. Each camping
place of the Indians was marked by
the carcass of a mule, for hungry as
they were, and their party was so
large that it required a full grown an
imal for every meal. ' Arising bright
and early the following morning they
soon reached the camp of the Indians
of the previous night and came upon
trie Indians at noon, -xne latter were
conscious of their power, and boldly
ate their -dinner in full view of the
whites, and took their time . about
moving on, shouting out words of de-
nance as they went.
The brave four were rewarded by see-
Old Eagan saw Bertha iu camp.
ing Bertha from the rimrocks, still well
and unharmed, but It was with a shud
der that they beheld the attention that
she received from the leader of the
band. .
The Indians numbered about forty
warriors and were a set of as ugly
and vicious looking fellows as ever
won the unenviable name of their
tribe. The whites could do nothing but
follow at a distance with the hope
that something might transpire by
which they would be enabled to re
lieve the young woman from her di
lemma. But now that they were dis
covered by the Indians their prospects
seemed far less flattering than when
they first started out.
Strategem was their only hope. To
make the Indians believe that they
had abandoned the chase and. thus
throwing them off their guard, ap
proach the camp by stealth at night
and rescue the woman was the plan
they formed.
So In full view of the Indians they
saluted them as if bidding them good
bye, and turned and rode away as if
they had abandoned the chase.
But as soon as they were fairly
hidden behind the rimrocks at the
ci est of the mountain overlooking the
plain in which the Indiana had camp
ed they turned down a gulch, and con
tinued, cautiously, traveling is a di
rection parallel to that taken by the
Indians.
Aa already described, travel among
the rimrocks is difficult. Openings in
the wall are. few, and subwalls lead
off In many directions." The1 traveler
must needs go a zigzag course and fre
quently travel many miles out of his
course to reach a given- point, bo that
when night came the little pursuing
party had lost sight of the objects of
It pursuit, and the succession of walls
of rimrocks and level plains lay alike
In every direction. . ,
There wag but one hope anil that
waa when it grew darker to abandon
their horses and climb to the top of
the highest rimrocks and try to dis
cover the campfirea of the marauder,
Selocting a spot near where a eep of
stagnant water flowed from th rocks,
with which they were compelled to
quench their thirst, they pitched a
temporary camp and waited. - j
As the night grew darker the stars
grew brighter and the wild howla of
the coyote rang la the distance.
Interspersed now and then with the
weird cry of the hungry mountain
lion.
CHAPTER V.
Two Villains.'
It Is the fourth night after the In
dians attacked the pack train. At the
Stone. House the Lord of The Desert
sits at his accustomed place, sipping
from a goblet of old Scotch whiskey.
Of late years he hag done but little
besides drink from the flowing bowl.
One day he deadens all sense of feel
ing, to rise .the following with a keen
er appetite and a conscience more
stinging. On this night his eyelids
are heavier than usual, his eyes look
more glassy and the grimaces are
deeper in his face.
No wonder. If Dan Follett, the
Canadian Frenchm&n, haa followed his
Instructions and old Egan, the Indian
chief, has kept his eyes - open and
been prompt in action, another crime
has been added to his life. He stares
Into the vacant darkness and this, so
still and gloomy - on the desert, re
minds him of a distant cave in the
rimrocks, and the picture there causes
a shudder to come over the great frame
of Martin Lyle, the Lord of The
Desert. - , '
The welcome bark of the dogd, an
nounces the arrival of one who is not
a stranger. In his eagerness, the Lord
of The ' Desert rises and paces the
floor, now and then stopping at the
arm chair and taking a sip from the
goblet. Presently a lank form enters
the door. His dark heavy eyebrows,
and the natural scowl upon his face,
his careless ambling walk, depict the
character of the man at a glance. But
nothing ever tells the inmost thoughts
of Dan Follett. Whether after victory
or defeat, or during anger or in a hap
py mood, the oily black eyes of this
mani never change. It is only when
he speaks or acts that hig mood is
known, . -
Upon entering the house, and after
greeting Its Lord, he soon unburdens
himself.
"I saw from the smoke above the
distant rimrocks the evening before,"
said Follett, "that old Egan was ready
for action, but in spite of my efforts
the clash came in a way that Several
lives of our men were lost. I tried to
have the surprise Bo complete that the
girl and animals should be taken away
without the loss Of a life, but our boys
were on their feet instantly and fought
bravely, and it wag certainly a mir
acle that any of them escaped after
they engaged such odds." Then he
detailed the circumstances of the fight
as the reader knows them.
"Do you think there Is any chance
of those four dare-devils rescuing the
girl?" inquired Lyle.
"None in the world," replied the
Frenchman. "They will either lose
their lives by their foolhardiness or
come In in a few days starved out, as
I saw to the fact myself that they took
but few provisions with them."
How did the girl take her captiv
ity?" inquired the Lord of The Desert.
I only saw her for a moment by
a flash o the campflre after she was
secured and she wore a bold look of
firmness and defiance, as if she feared
not even the devils into whose hands
she had fallen." -
"She's a Lyle!" muttered the Lord
of The Desert. : " -
"This is a costly affair, Martin," in
sinuated Follett. .
: "Yes. I know," replied the man of
wealth, ' "but old Egan wanted ani
mals for his men and would not do
the other work, you know, without the
horses as he said his men would not
be satisfied, with ' taking the girl
alone." '..'" . '".;.' ; . . .
"The twenty-five head which I am
to deliver at Gray Butte and the for
ty head they got the other night,"
said Follett, are a pretty heavy tax,
besides the men we have lost. Better
it von had let the' elrl coma on and
made away with tier as I did with her
father."
"That would never have done," re
plied Lyle. "The notoriety of her vis
it here would have led to an investiga
tion, but now that the Indians have
done the work it Is a natural turn of
affairs In this country and the Ameri
can's 'Uncle Sam, will reward
Egan and his warriors by giving
them a reservation and feeding
and. educating them. The Eng
lish would reward the whole gang
by hanging them. But enough of this."
Tomorrow arrange to deliver . the
twepty-flve cayuses to the old brute,
but before you do it require positive
proof that he's performed his part of
the contract, he has to kill her, you
know!" ' -'.'.'.
"And the deed to the Soring Creek
Valley " replied Follett, "don't forget
that. While Egan must he rewarded
for his damnable deeds, I must be paid
for my bloody ones!" and he gave the
Lord of The Desert a piercing looK
that made that man of nerve shrink
like a coward.
At this time Folletfs companions
came in from attending to the horses
and the three repaired to the dining
room, while the owner o? the Stone
House sat down and drank and
thought, and drank and thought.
UMPKIN.
'A H, greenly and fair la th. land, of the Where the crocks ire wlHng sad yel-
II fun low frnlt shines,
The vine's of the gourd and the rich Ad the sun of September melt flown o
melon run, hli vines.
And the rock and the tree and the cottage
enfold, Thanksgiving Day, when from east
With broad leaves all greenne. and bloa- Ahl ftKS?
lonis all gold, . vmm north and from south come the pn-
Llke tl.nt wukhVer Nineveh's prophet once From D0n"dn ,
grew, ' ' . when the eruv-bnlred New-Englauder aeca
While be 'waited to know that hie warning !Ztd
was true, The ol(. brogen (inks of affection restored.
And longed for the storm-cloud, and lis- aheDrlVearieU man aeeka bit motn-
tened In vnln ... or nnm more
For the rush of the whirlwind and red Are- . t e woVn niatfon smiles where the girl
rain. i.i
Bluiieu iwiw.
On the bankd of the Xenll, the durk Span
ish maiden
Comes up With the fruit of the tangled vine
laden;
And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to be
hold Through the Ornnge leaves shlulag the broad
spheres or gold;
What moistens the Up and what brightens
Whatthcal?seoack the past, like the rich
pumpkin pleJ
Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days re-
When the wood grapes were purpling aud
brown nuls were falling! . . ...
Yet with dearer delight from bla home In rd In Its skin,
On the flelds 'of his harveat the Yankee Glaring out through the dark with a eaudle
looks forth, within!
A THANKSGIVING FOOTBALL STORY
"Till "
it
si
I:
(Tone Continued.)
A $5,000,066 TPaia.ee.
Seven hundred artisans, backed by
Clarence H. Mackay's millions and di
rected by Mrs. Mackay. have set about
building near the llttlo village of Ros
lyn, L. I., the most beautlf nl country
home in America. Already the work is
well under way, and the wilderness of
Mat. CLARBXCI MACKAT.
wooded bill la fast becoming a land
of perfect enchantment The vastnea
of Mr. Mackay'i plan la fairly Illus
trated by the fact that bla estate Is al
most as large as Central Park, and that
the estimate of the cost la the end will
closely border upon tOOO.OOa Th
gateway, or lodge, alone will cost (ISO,
006. The structure la of granite, and
la 22S feet long from east to west and
100 feet broad from north to south. It
will la every way be a i1ac
T was Charlie
Town's first
year at the Val
ley "Prep" School,
and he had made
the varsity! Tuis,:
is a most unusual
thing for a fresh
man to do, for most
of them are away
below the average
of strength und,
weight necessary to4
the "line" and,
"backs," who, as a
rule, are two or
three years older,
nnd that at a period
of growth when two
or three years per
mit a wonderful in
crease hi - bone,
uinew and solid
muscle. Still, by
virtue of his cat-:
like activity and'
phenomenal sprint-,
ing abilities. Char-,
lie was a fixture at
the all-important
position of quater
back. He was en-',
vied by his class-1
men, less fortunate
his companionship
sought by the sen
iors, and oh! su"
preiue pinnacle of joy he was praised by
the conch! Still he was not nappy.
I tell you.it is a -perfect shame.
growled Barnes. "Here you are the taily
freshman who has ever made quarter on
our varnlty, and now, just as we are to
have the hardest game of the season on
our hands, and not another fellow who
:nn pass the ball without fumbling and
give signals without mixing them, you
want to go off home nnd eat turkey with
your father! Where do you thtfik we
come in, anyway?"
Dad couldu't eat a Thanksgiving din
ner without me," said Charlie. ,
"Then why don t he come up here and
ent it? snarled the now angry Barnes.
"I guess he can put up with the sort of
fare that the rest of us will chew, can't
ber .
"There's an epidemic,"'eiDlained Char
lie. "Every infant that could manage it
in our little town has the diphtheria or
whooping cough or something, aud those
that are not sick are trying their best to
catch it, and my father is the only doctor
in the place. It la out of the question
for him to leave, and we hove never yet
failed to be together on Thanksgiving
Day. You see, there' are only we two
left" The door opened, and a laH.
sturdy fellow entered just in time to hear
the last words. It was the Captain of
the team. He took a seat on the edge of
tue narrow Dea and eyed Charlie stern
ly. "What's thia I hear," he said, "about
your not playing in the game with Mill
ville on Thanksghring Day?"
"I have to go home to spend Thanks
giving, that's all," answered Charlie.
"Barnes has told me bow you feel
shout It," continued the Captain, "but
see here, Town, we have beaten Mill
ville four yeara straight although alwayi
by the skin of our teeth. Now, we haveu't
a chance this year without you, and yon
know it Black is a good little sub, but
he can't be depended upon to handle the
men in a big game like this. Andrews
can't pass the ball without fumbling to
save hit life, and you are the only quarter
we can possibly play and win. Yon won't
desert us just now, when we have not
been defeated this season, right here tn
the face of the very hardest game of all,
will you?"
"I must go, Dick." cried Charlie in de
spair. "Dad would never forgive me tf
I did not"
"But how about my sister, your 'opp?"
She has counted upon your taking her to
the game and then seeing you do all
sorts of things to Millville, making forty
yard runt around the end and goals from
the field, yon know. Have yon thought
about that?"
"I haven't thonght of anything else for
a week," groaned Charlie, "but I can't
help it I shall have to tell her at sup
per to-night"
"Well, in that case we can't rank yon
as one of the varsity," said the Cap
tain, rising. "You will have to go no
the playing lists aa substitute, that's all,"
and he went out, closing the door not too
gently behind hiin.
The Valley Preparatory School wao a
co-educational Institute, and the schol
ars of both aexee only met at class and
at the long tables iu the dining room. The
boys and girls were seated on opposite
side of these tables, and the owner of
that particular pair of bright eym smil
ing at one from across the table waa
known aa my opp," a more or lew affec
tionate abbreviation for "opposite." Char
k y sat at the training table, where, of
course, do girls were allowed, but before
he had been elevated to thia mnrh-coreted
poi?Soo, he had for his "opp" Millie Barr.
the Captain's sister, and the prettk-et girl
In the school. Charlie's place, opp.ite
here, was still vacant and he slid iota It
at supper that ninht and remained there
In coaverutioa with her until the
was served, when he went to hi flat
t the training table with the rmt. She
had not grown angry and scoffed at his
reaulutioa like hi chum, or tried to ar
gue him out of his intention, as did her
brother, but quite agreed that he must
go to bis father, although she let hiui
see that she should be greatly disappoint
ed by his absence.
Charlie started upon ' his homeward
Journey in a very unsettled state of mind.
He felt that the entire school considered
him a deserter, and if they lost well, he
would be blamed for the stigma of de
feat , How hard he had worked for his
place on the varsity and how proud be
had been of it the only freshman quar
ter that had ever played on Valley
School! Then, how the team had re
sponded when he had given the signals,
always like clockwork, with a smooth
ness and precision that got the ball In
play so rapidly and behind such perfect
Interference that the unbroken list of vic
tories was, sfter all, a result to be ex
pected. And now to hare that list mar
red by a defeat and at the hands of Mill
ville, their keenest rival! - His muscles
tightened at the thought of the grim
pleasure of the struggle. No. Rlack could
not handle the team. He had never
grasped the signals as he should, and he
lacked confidence. He could not pass the
ball with the necessary accuracy, either,
although in this respect be was much
better than Anderson, the other "sub."
Well, Valley School would be defented at
last, and he might have guided the team
to victory. And what would Millie Barr
think? She had been very nice about
it and quite agreed that he should go
home at this time. But she mnat have
been fearfully disappointed. Well, per
haps she did not mind so much, after nil.
Some other fellow would take her. He
gritted his teeth at the thought of thut.
Then, perhaps, she would not mind t-o
much if the fellows of Valley School were
beaten. No, of course not; girls 'lid not
have that school spirit that mado the
coming game bound the whole horixon for
him. Girls could not innke such sacrifices
as he would make, if he only could, juvt
to run that team the way he had before,
to hammer at the opposing lino until a
weak spot could be found; to send the
ends down the field like lightning on the
heels of a long, low punt; to skirt the
opposing ends behind perfect interference
and run fifty yards to a touchdown; ier
haps to but what was,tho nse of think
ing about it? It waa all behind him now,
and getting further away with every min
ute's flight of the rushing train. Mo w aa
glad be had left it all. He would see
Dad soon! Old Dad! How hard he must
be working, with all those annoying,
squalling little wretches, sick, all over the
town. He must be lonesome, there all by
himself. Yes, he was glad he was folng
to see Dad, and let the school rage If it
wanted to. What was school compared
to Dad, anyway?
Charlie was roused from his brown
study by the brnkemau's roar of- "Bar
bridge!" in his ear. He had to change
cars here. He descended to the station
platform and stood waiting for the other
train, when the telegraph operator tapped
him on the shoulder. "Mr. Charles
Town?" he asked. Charlie nodded nnd
was handed a telegram. "Walt where
yon are." he read. "Will reach Bar
bridge at eleven five." His father's name
was signed to the message, and upon
looking at his watch Charlie found that
he had but three minutes to wait He
paced the platform Impatiently, trying to
guess the cause of this very unusual re
quest, until the train came In. His fath
er sprang from the platform of the smok
er and came to meet him with beaming
face.
"I thought I would catch you, 'joy."
he said. "I wired to four points on the
Une to be sure of you. I want to see rou
win that game for Valley School" Char
lie's heart swelled with a sudden joy, so
keen that he could Dot speak; theu sank
again.
"I don't belieTs I can get back In
time," he faltered. "It takes fonr hour
from here, you know, and there's no train
for an hour, and the game begins at 3."
"Nonsense!" said his father. "I'll wire
them to delay matters, and ion know no
contest ever comes off on time, anyhow "
tV . 1. 1 I . i .
uto mej reacuea tne academy town
they found the streets deserted. "Every
one is at the flrld," said Charlie. "Hear
that?" A faint guat of cheering ranit
from the grounds, half a mil away.
Valley School had grim visions of de
feat The first half had cked with a
score of 6 to 0, In Millvtlle's favni- n..
enemy had slowly, stubbornly, advanced
wig nau me lengtB or the Held for a
touchdown, after smashing the choUxV
trick plays of Valley School elevi. A
goal had followed. The home team vi
not pulling together. ?b. player. A,4
not get off well at the signal. The ball
was not put In play properly, rumble
were frequent Their pet play, a bluff
right-end run. delayed pa. and then
. mass on left tackle, had resulted In a
lots every time-lt had been tried. Their
confidence was gone.
Still their defen
sive game was excellent Time after tiina
there hnd been Individual plays of tha,
most .cnaational order, yet they could not ,
advance the bnlL Millville bad l.ly j
but surely worn them out driven them
hack and ever back toward their goal
line, then past It and they were a beaten
team at the end of the first half.
Now the second half bad begun. The
ball had been In the play scarcely lire
mlimtes. and Millville. by ateady ham
mering of the line, had forced the ball to
Valley School s ten-ynro. line, a romi
contingent from Millville shouted madly.
The crowded grand stand was silent The
coach pranced np and down the side lines
and Implored a brace. It came. Three
times the Millville warriors butted their
heada into a defense that would not yield.
They hnd sot tried a trick piny once.
Oa the next signal the full back, behind
three player, licked around left end.
Half the Millrille team were before
them In an inatant. but Millville's luty
right guard had the ball, and he plunged
through the weakened center. He col
lided with a stocky little figure and fell
back a yard. The substitute quarter
(Black) had by a mngnilicent tackle sav
ed Valley School from another touch
down. Th Millville man arose, bnt
Black lay still. He was raised and np
ported off the Held. Then from the grand
stand came a chorus of feminine cheer.
A little figure had shot ont of the gym
nasium and out oa to the field. "Char
lie!" "Charlie Town!" shrieked the girl
hi the grand stand. Valley School had
the ball.
Charlie punted out of danger. The ball
was Millville's at the center of the field.
They started to puh their way "own
the field again, but the Valley School
eleven had decided that they did not want
to be pushed. Millville tried again and
again, but made no gain. Their Captain
signaled for a kick, but some ruhlan from
Valley School broke the line, blocked th
kick, got the ball, ran off with it and
would not stop until he had gone thirty
yards. This was awful! Millvillo could
not understand it Why couldn't llii
team stay beaten? From the under grad
uate on the aide Hue came a roar of
"Charlie Town!" "Charlie Town!"
"First down!" "First down!"
Then Millville's Captain called for a
brace. His team were perfectly willing
to brace, and they braced so hard md
played so low that Charlie had no diffi
culty In hurdling the line. He leaped
over the back of the little tackle, dodi-d
the backs and, running three feet to hi
pursuers' two, made a beautiful touch
down directly between the goal posts.
Of course, be kicked the goal.
The score was tied, but the Millville
blood was up. Try as they would, the
Valley School team could not get beyond
the Millville's 20-yard line, and there th
ball was with only one minute to play.
Millville knew that Charlie would try a
goal from the field, and they prepnret to
break through, and two seconds after the
ball had left Charlie's toe he was Imme
diately buried under several hnndrjd
pound of bone and sinew from Millville.
Hut the ball had gone over the crossbar
between the goal posts, juat where It was
needed most. The game was over.
Charlie had to be carried to the gym
nasium. When he opened his eye his
father was hurting him fearfully about
the neck. He protested. "Lie still and
let me set your collarbone," said his fath
er; "if you don't, yon will be lopsided,
nnd then Miss Millie won't take any more
interest in you." Charlie blushed. "What
do you know about it?" he asked.
"Well." was the reply. "be rained a
fund among the girls here, with which
she paid a prominent Boston physician to
look after all those poor little ick pa
tients of mine for one day, so I could
come up here aud set collarbone for
yon."
"Oh." snld Cbnrll wickedly." MI
thought perhaps yon had got them 111
dead by thia time. Dad." And then he
added. "No. I don't want to be lopsifcd."
Cincinnati Enquirer.
T.
GEO. P.'C!
DEALER I
Dry Goods, Groceii
Boots and Shoes,
Hardware, j-;
Flour and Fe?d, e!;J;
This old-wUUisheJ hortae ail
tinue to pay cash for all it
pays no rent; it emptor a,
doee nt have to divide with i ,J
All dividends are m.l with iij
iu iua mmj oi reasonable prtrt;
Lurnbd
wood, ;
Posts, E -Davenport
Hlj;
Lumber Col
Have opened an office in ll-.I
Call and get price) and Ira.q u ;
which will be promptly filled. n
""' asat-saapaawasaB y.v,
Cau9 for Kejulcltitf.
"Ye. ar. pawson, til Is er glorious
Thanksgibbin', en es soon rs I git buro
an' clean off er bit, I'll come an' jlne la
de service at de meet in' bouse."
Oor Turkey.
Aunt Snlll sent tnrkey egg
To Mabel and to i'UL '
They gave It to the speckled hea
When she began to slu
It hatched a little tnrkey oat
And never auy where
Md any fowl more klndnra Bad
Than fell to this out share.
They planned It for ThanklTlng Day.
But, a the time drew nlgo.
They talked lea of lb turkey feast
And more of pumpkin pl.
And the at last they ram to beg
The turkey's lit w spar.
And said they would contented be'
To dine en plainer far.
With teardrops brimming both their ere
I could not say then nay.
And to w killed big, fat bea
Te celebrate th day.
Thak(irlnf eaiue. Our tnrkey situ
Was nmnarrk of his beat
Instead of making np oar fesit.
He helped the treat te eat.
-Cincinnati Commercial Tribaaat.
President Lincoln and Thanaagtvlng.
It wa President Lincoln
Thankagiving day. In 13 the regaUr
Thankagiving custom began, and the lat
Thursday In November ha aince been
one of onr national holiday.
NATURE'S THANKSGIVING DAY OFfERING.
IT
Regulator Li'j
STFAMERS
Regulator "'wi Dallas
Between The and Wt'
Daily Eitt rundr t.
Leave Ill.-a ..'...J.. ...... 7
Arrive ItrUaI..... 4 ;
Leave Portland 7 '
Arrive Ihilh ....5 5
i
Leave llon.1 RUvr (down) atM:30
Arrive Uuod Itiwr (up) 1:30
Antral Ajtir
White Collar tt
Portland-Astoria Hoir.;
Sit. -BAILEY GATViERTi:
imilj round Ulp eietat t aday. V
TIMCCABO. L:.
Leave PortIai. T:S.
Leaves AM.-ria. , . , .;.'.-
Trtmtira Portland Nierti Ut ::tT "
h'aftrolia 1mm llaara and Lif hark r .'
Whit ol!ar Utt4 !!-. is rrhai.ivj v
II U k. j. t J4 V. T. te. Mafia.
TheDalles-Portlard Roil I
O 4 aUWiXJVJ
-TAHOMA" and -RTEILAKr;
iMily trip sp Saa y. 1
4
Sir. TATIOMA. '
Ibarra Portland. Una.. St ed.. rrt . 1: tt.
Leave lha baJtr. lurl, Ikall. taL, J .,
r
. Str. METLAKC . '
l.eaw-f Porllao.l. TiM..T1i.. Se
UateaTb italic ato Wrd.. f 7:uli-j
Landing and on: fu AM strati, t '
then slain SU. rsttlaad, tf an.
AGENTS
j. w. riurnTos .
A. K. rt'LLKK
woi-Fiu wvr.Ra..
HKNKV iiLM-nUt...,
JullS r. K'TTiiN
J.V. WVATT
A. J. TAYUiR
T I. nallet.
. . II. liiter.
. hit Jmoa.
.'amis.
.... M nn, a
ai uvr. W
... .Vlurla,i
E.W. CRICHTON,
PortU J, Ott
mm
AMD
OUFGONi
Union Pacific
DtriBT I
rtita. ,
rhk-aco a. take. IVj ,
fwtianA I L tli.4&-'ia.
Spet I kaaaaa l ily. I
:. aa. I U11. ,l.hMTHut !
.. I Lao. : I
Bammgtea.1 ' ,
At ami (
BlpFM
M aa.
via, I
OurUnfto.
W alta Wall l a-
toa)Mitaia,N a
a!!l,IH fa it.
taiutH. MUw
,.kics4o4aa4
St Paul
f at Mall
M f. m.
ia
tf
take, Pm'H
H WontiMM a.
Kama Mr,
.jma.CakaseelU
AS:'J
as I
OCEAN AND RIVER SCHEDU1
roM roKTLfFo.
All aa'tiag
aab)et to cktf -1
fat aa PraarlM a
toil nary a r
Cs.at I
a aia. I
tataeaar it Aw 4 tfcf
he. p. aa.
45
Laarfifcc,
1-M) am j
L. sir!
t !
, W ad. I lam anaU''. . !
ftw ,Vtim Cur.
sr. imm, u ex
t-4M-, t af bl-
i.-ss p- w
4MB.-
g.uaO.
Vim ersull S .
OntM t-tif. I T-
hut.A III la
a. m '
M.-a. Wai
tla.Aaf-
iaH tlri k Law M P"1
A. L. CR4Q.
rarai ranr Ag H rtla4
A. at. BOAS, igaata, Bas aUv
1