Boys Own Paper May 31, 1913

8/8/2019 Boys Own Paper May 31, 1913

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546 The Bojr's Otern Taper.

T h e S o n o f a nA T a l e o f S t r a n g e Musteru a n d Wild A d v e n t u r e .

By W. A. B. CL EME NTS ON, M.A.,

Author of "A Couple of Scamps," etc.

D e v o u r i n g i t !

WH E N Paolo had heard Ronald walking

away from him, he gave way to

bitter despair and sobbed hopelessly, while

the cart with its living burden jolted on

along the rough country road. Ho w far they

went he had no means of guessing, but the

road seemed to get rougher and rougher,

till at last they came to a stop, and he heard

the harsh voice of a man saying in French

(which he did not unders tand):

" What have 3'ou got there ? "

" Oh, he has sent back a prisoner in one

of those sacks," replied the woman in the

lame language. " It is a little boy. We are

to keep him till we receive further orders,and kill him if he tries to escape."

" Oh, then it has been successful after all.

We shall soon be able to leave this dismal

place."

" I don't understand."

" Why, for some reason or other the Old

Man has set his heart on capturing this bo} ' ;

I don't know why, though I can guess. That

is what brings us all down to this part of the

world ; that is why he rents this cottage

for us, that we may be ready to do his

bidding. So we 've got to keep this child till

he's sent for ? Well, it will mean a large

share in the next piece of plunder for you

and me."

" By the way, I have a message for you,

Pierre," said the woman. " Yo u are to ride

to Exeter and post this letter. It must not

be posted near here or it may be traced to

us."

" Give it me, then," said Pierre. " Why,

C H A P T E R X X . M A R I E T T E R A O U L .

it is addressed to the Daily Mail! I wonder

what is the Old Man's game now."

" I don 't know ; but he wants you , when

you've done that, to go and find four other

members of the Society and meet him with

them at the old ruin near Roekleigh on

Wednesday next at half-past eleven. You

are to hide in the ruins wherever you can."

" Oh, very well. But I hope he won't

run his nose into a police trap, that is all!

What will you do whilst I am away ? "

" Oh, I shall be all right. I expect I

shall be able to manage the b oy, though I

must confess I don't like the idea of killing

him. . I'd rather you did that sort of work."" Bah ! It is easy enoug h; you can poison

him."

" Well, perhaps it won' t be necessary.

Just help me to take him out of the waggon ;

then you'd better be off to catch the earliest

post you can."

Paolo felt himself lifted by strong arms

and apparent ly carried into a house. Then

he was taken out of the sack, the bandage

removed from his eyes and the gag from

his mouth. He was in the living-room of a

small cottag e ; and in front of him stood

a thick-set scoundrel of a man and a white-

faced shrivelled-looking woman.

" It is no use your making a noise," said

the man to him in English. " We have

orders to kill you at once, if we have the

least trouble. My wife here knows how to

use a pistol and she will not hesitate to do

so if necessary. But if you are quiet and

well-behaved, it is very likely you will come

to no harm."

Having said this the man went out, and,

unharnessing the horse from the cart ,

jumped on to its back and rode away.

The woman looked curiously at Paolo , for

she had not seen him before and had been

wondering what her little prisoner was like.

Mariette Raoul was half Italian and half

French and she had married a Frenchman,

but they had fled from France some fifteenyears ago, when the country became too

hot for them, and had taken up their abode

in England, that happy hunting-ground of

alien anarchists and such benevolent souls.

She was almost as bad and as cruel as

it is possible for a woman to be, but she had

been largely made so by circumstances.

Brought up by criminal parents, her friends

had been of the same class and she had

never known what an innocent and happy-

life really was. There had been one bright

spot in her dark history and that was the

coming of her little son, Jacques, whom she

had loved with all the power of her poor

soul; but he had been early snatched

away from her—run over and killed by the

carriage of some wealthy Parisian ; and that

was sixteen years ago.

Since then her life had been very dark

and very evi l; society was at war with her,

it had killed her boy (she said), and so she

was at war with society. She avoided all

children, she hated all mothers with a bitter

hatred, and rejoiced whenever she heard of

others suffering as she had suffered.

When her husband had gone, she took

a good look at Paolo, and as she compared

this fine-looking boy with her poor, half-

starved little Jacques, she felt enraged With

him. He, too, had a mother, who no doubt

loved him as she had loved little Jacques ;

but she should suffer for it. Yes, the rich

woman should suffer and not all the gold in

the world should console her for the loss of

her son. She did not want to kill Paolo,

but she was determined to treat him roughlybecause he was the son of a happy rich

woman.

Paolo was meanwhile looking her up and

down with wondering eyes, and debating

within himself whether to try to move her to

pity for his condition or to appear proudly

indifferent to his fate. The malicious gleam

in Marietta's eyes told him that it w:as use

less to look for pity there, so he decided to

put on a bold front and pretend that he was

not afraid. Raising his eyes to the woman's

face he asked quietly, " Who are you, please?

and where am I ? "

Mariette started: she wished the boy woidd

not look at her like that. If he would only

scream for mercy it would be easier to be

cruel, but she could not stand the mute

appeal of those dark eyes.

" Never mind where you are or who I

am," she answered cross ly. " Yo u have

got to stay here till I receive further orders,

so you had better be quiet and ask no ques

tions."

She then untied his hands and loosened

the cords which bound his feet together,

till he was just able to hobble about by

himself, but could not move easily enough

to escape from the cot tage. In any

case Mariette gave him no chance to do

so, for she ordered him to sit down in a

chair, while she herself bustled about theroom preparing a meal, but keeping her eye

on the boy all the time. Paolo 's face beamed

with pleasure when he saw the woman

spreading the table with plain wholesome

food, for he had eaten nothing since tea-time

on the previous day. At last Mariette told

Paolo to bring his chair up to the table,

which he instantly did, and he began to eat

what was set before him with evident enjov-

ment. This appeared to annoy Mariet te,

who scolded him for greediness.

" I am sorry, madam," said Paolo gravely.

" But you see, I haven't eaten anything

since I left the camp yeslerday evening."

" Then it will do you no harm to learnwhat hunger feels like," she snapped.

" You will know how the poor people live."

" Oh, I know all about that," said Paolo.

" Father is always talking about it ; and

we haven't always been comfortably off„

you know. Before^mother began to sing



The Son of an Anarchist. 547

at concerts and father got a picture accepted,

we often had to go short of food."

" Who is your mother?" asked Mariette,

with a fierce jealousy in her heart.

" She is Madame Costa, the contral to.

Have you ever heard her sing ? Oh, it is

heavenly!" and his voice trembled, as he

wondered if he should ever hear her sing

again.

" She will sing a far different tune now,"

hissed Mariette through her teeth.

" I don't think she will ever sing again,"

said Paolo sadly. " You see, she lost father

several months ago and now she's lost me !"

It was Mariette's hour of triumph ; but

somehow her revenge did not taste as sweet

as she had anticipated. She wished Paolo

had been a different sort of boy and that she

could have seen his mother suffering rather

than him. Hers was, indeed, a cruel heart.

She did not say anything more, but

allowed Paolo to eat as mucli as he wanted,

and then hastily cleared the table and retired

into the next room to wash up the crockery.

She told him that if he cried out for helpor tried to escape, she would shoot him

instantly, but he had better make up his

mind to be qui et ; so he sat in the kitchen all

day with his face in his hands, thinking

hard, while Mariette every now and then

looked in through the door to see that he

was still safe.

Once she saw two men walking over the

hills in the distance, at which she instantly

bundled Paolo into another room, gagged

him and tied his hands ; then, raising some

boards in the floor, she laid bare a dark

cavity, where potatoes, coils of rope and other

oddments had been stored. Into this she

thrust the terrified boy and replaced the

covering. Paolo heard her walking about

overhead, as he lay there listening, and

presently she came back and released him

from his hiding-place, saying that it was a

false alarm and that the men had gone in a

different d irection; So Paolo, glad to be free

from his musty prison, hobbled back againto the kitchen.

At meal times Mariette always gave him

as much food as he desired, but did not seem

inclined to talk. Paolo was thankful that

he was not to be starved, but he wished that

Mariette would not be so disagreeable when

he spoke to her. He wanted someone to talk

to in order to relieve the monotony of his

imprisonment, and would have welcomed

even an interesting villain to pass the time.

The next few days passed in much the same

way, except that Paolo fancied that Mariette

showed a little more kindness in her manner

towards him, and even once or twice asked

him about his home and parents. He on hispart, whenever she seemed less disagreeable

than usual, would question her about his

father ; but she asserted that she had never

before heard the name of Luigi Costa.

On the afternoon of the Wednesday when

the dwarf was hoping to meet Luigi at

Roekleigh, Pierre Raoul, the husband of

Mariette, returned. Mariette at once prepared

a meal for him, while he told her what he had

done.

" I have found the men I want," he said

in French, so that Paolo might not under

g o be continued.)

stand. " I have also seen the Old Man and

he has told me everything. He has placed

an advertisement in the paper, by which he

hopes to entice Luigi Costa, the father of

this boy, to meet him at the ruin. Costa is

to be seized and punished for his treachery—

he is a renegade anarchist, you know—and

if he resists or brings any third person to the

meeting, his son is to be put to death before

the sun rises."

Mariette started and looked at Paolo, who

little guessed what was being said about him.

" In order to prevent any failure on our

part," went on Pierre, " we have arranged

that if the boy is to die, at one o'clock in the

morning one of us will wave a lantern three

times round in a circle on the to p of yonder

hill. You must be on the look out and shoot,

or poison, the child as soon as you see the

signal, or it will go hard with you at the

hands of the anarchists ."

Mariette trembled, but only said, " I

understand."

Then, picking up a knife, Pierre went up

to Paolo and seized him b3' the hair. Paolo,not having understood the conversation,

but seeing that Mariette looked agitated,

thought his last hour had come. He gave a

little gasp of terror, then shut his eyes and

waited ; but the man merely cut off a lock

of Paolo's hair and put it into an envelope.

Paolo opened his eyes in surprise and looked at

Mariette, who was staring at him, as if she

had seen a ghost. After a few more words

to his wife, Pierre, having finished his meal,

got up and went out, leaving the two onco

more alone together.

T H E Y O U N G M U S I C I A N .

By FREDERICK JAMES, Mus. Dac., L.R.A.M.

We

N the previousarticle we dealtwith stringedi n s t r u m e n t s(violin, viola,violoncello anddouble - bass),

now purpose

speaking about thewind instruments usedin an orchestra. Wemust first be quite surethat you all know the

meaning of the term orchestra.It is applied to a band made upof string and wind instruments,

with drums in addition.

A well-known orchestra of to-day isconstituted as follows : 10 first violins,8 second violins, 6 violas, 0 violoncellos,4 double-basses, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets,2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombonesand 2 drums—making a total of 53. If itwere desired to increase the above orchestrato, say, 70 or 80 players, it would be done byadding to the number of stringed instruments;

t lie wind instruments and drums would notbe increased in number.

The great composers have given us of their very best in their compositions fororchestra, in fact, we may state that orchestralmusic is the highest type of music. Choralmusic, songs, solo instrumental music (for

P A R T I I . — W I N D I N S T R U M E N T S .

piano, violin, etc.) have their special charmsand uses, but they cannot equal the finestorchestral music.

It must be admitted that until recentyears English people, as a whole, havebeen deficient in their knowledge andappreciation of orchestral music . Only in thelargest towns could the best orchestral

music be heard, and then, only at intervals.(London, however , must not be included inthis category.)

Opportunities for hearing orchestral musicare now becoming more numerous. Manyhealth-resorts (Bournemouth, Harrogate,etc.) possess good orchestras which givedaily performances. Quite a number of towns have amateur orchestras of their own,which help to engender and foster thetaste for orchestral music.

These organisations ought to be foundin every town and even in every villagethroughout the country. Apart f i om the good

they do in making orchestral music known,they provide real pleasure for the players,who generally find the rehearsal-night to bethe pleasantest in the week. Some of these

amateur societies began in a very simple waywith a few violins, a violoncello, and apianoforte ; other instruments were gradually added, so that, in time, the pianoforte could be dispensed with. (The latterinstrument never forms a part of a realorchestra.)

Sometimes a smaller combination of instruments is organised, consisting of anumber of stringed instruments, and a fewwind instruments ; this is known as a string

band. Plenty of good music is written forsuch bands, and again we mention that therehearsals prove of great interest to theplayers.

In all orchestras, small or great, it is almostinvariably found that the wind instrumentsare the hardest to get. You may find, inany town, fifty violin or violoncello playersto one orchestral wind-instrument player.Wind instruments are not taken up as theyshould be. It needs to be impressed uponall young people that there are other instruments apart from the pianoforte, violin,etc., and that the wind instruments haveeach their own special charms and havegreat uses to which they can be put.

Horns , trumpets, and trombones are of limited use as solo instruments. Their useis confined to the orchestra, where theirimportance is great. The wood instruments(flute, clarinet, oboe, and bassoon) can beused at home with pianoforte accompani

ment, a great amount of music being availablefor this purpose; and yet their true homeis the orchestra.

The cost of wind instruments perhapstells against their extensive use. A decentflute may be got for two or three guineas,and a cornet (often used instead of a trumpet)



548 The "Boy's Obun Taper.

may be bought i >r about the same sum.Th e other instruments are dearer, as maybe seen by perusing any catalogue of musicalinstruments. Second-hand instruments maybe met with, but it is most unwise to buythem unless the advice of a good player hasbeen taken. The " pig in the poke "principle is never worse applied than inthe case of musical instruments.

It is impossible to give any advice as to

which wind instrument you should take up.Try to hear each sort separately, and thendecide. If there is a good band on the piers(where you are spending your holiday)endeavour to get near enough to recognise thedifferent qualities of tone which the variousinstruments give. When you have decidedupon an instrument, remember that evenhalf an hour's practice a day, taken regularly,will in a few years lead to capital results.Yo u will then have secured something whichwill be a constant joy to you all throughyour life. The study of a wind instrument

need interfere only a little with that of any. other instrument (e.g., the pianoforte), orwith singing. Only enthusiasm and determination are needed to secure success.

Wind instruments are, of course, the onlyinstruments used in brass bands ; in fact, the

brass band may be described as an orchestraof brass instruments. Only a few of thesewind instruments are used in real orchestras.The instruments used (cornets, fliigel-horns,euphoniums, bombardons, valve-trombones)are all played upon the same principle,so that a player can easily pass fromone instrument to another. But we havebeen alluding in this article mainly to thewind instruments, which are necessary to

perform that high type of musical composition known as orchestral music. Brassbands cannot be dealt with in detail here.

Military bands, which in large townsmay be occasionally heard in the parks during the summer-time, are really brass bandswith wood-wind instruments added (flutes,oboes, bassoons, and plenty of clarinets).They can produce a greater variety of tonethan brass bands and they rank next to theorchestra in importance.

Drum and fife bands can only rendersimple music, but the players often take uporchestral wind instruments in later years,and for this reason alone, drum and fifebands should not be discouraged.

Th e fife, as you probably all know, is a

small flute. It is not hard to learn to play,and is also not expensive in cost.

The only stage of any note is the termination,which we diagrammed as P R O B L E M N O . 132for the benefit of the younger section of oursolvers. It is curious from the fact thatthis neat little end-game win should havebeen overlooked by Mr. Green, one of themost prolific of problemists. And incorrespondence, too !

G A M E N O . 74—" Dundee."B L A C K , J. E. Green. W H I T E , G. Coan.

12—16 9—14 11—15 9—13 10—26

22—18 25—22 19—10 2f—22 30— 710—20 "4—"s 0— 9 1— 6 3—10

24—19 22—18 25—22 23—18 la) 31—27

11—15 8—11 7—11 14—23 6— 918—11 18— 9 10— 7 27—18 18—14

8—24 5—14 2—11 15—19 9—18

28—19 29—25 22—17 17—14 27—24

etc. White wins.

O U R " B . O . P . " D R A U G H T S C O L U M N .

Problem No. 133.

By H E N R Y 0 . R O B I N S O N (Selangor, Straits

Settlements.)

\VR contributor has been spendingsome holidays in this country and

upon returning home to the Far West sendsus these en voyage. The first is a neat andforceful illustration of the way " the move "should be taken into our calculation andwith pretty effect. The second is a mid-game combination, which is won by a series

of brilliant exchanges, forming a compoundcoup de mditre of exceptional impressiveness ;especially as it occurred in play and with afellow passenger.

G A M E S .

The undernoted game was played bycorrespondence, between Mr. George Coanof Norwich and Mr. J. E. Green of Gloucester.

(o) The key-move to our P R O B L E M No. 132.

CRICKET.

A W A Y with the " bounc er," away with the goals,

The very last scrimmage has ended.

Come I K ick off the boo ts with the spik es in the soles,

An d send the striped shirt to be mended.

Y ou '11 want them no more till the autumn is here.

Quick I Down to your place at the wicket,

An d join in the hearty and vigorous cheer

That welcomes in cricket.

The score sheets are open. There' s room on them all

For records surpassing th e l a tes t ;

So do what you can with the bat and the ball

To make the new season your greatest.

Just screw up your skill to the very top pitch

An d don't let it tumble to pieces,

By resting on lame : an absurdity which

All trouble increases.

Don't play for applause. That ' s a very bad plan,

Its own paltry purpose betray ing ;

Fo r Fate checks the score of the self-conscious man,

In favour of him who is playing.

To shine at the wic ket, or while in the field,

Be one with the game— that's the moral;

An d Fortune, though stub born, will certainly yield

Some leaves of her laurel.

Jons L E A .

W H I T E .

White to move. Black to win.

Problem No . 134.

By H E N R Y ( ) . R O B I N S O N ,

B L A C K .

W H I T E .

White to move and win.

A " B .O . P ." T o b o g g a n .

(The abov e photograph shows a reader of the " B. O.P ." (R. H. Winter, Lig htchffe, near

Halifax) and the toboggan which ho made from the directions given in our Christmas Number.)





550 The "Boy's Oton Paper.

My lord will remember the servant Nusseer

who used to wait upon the child; when the

fight was at its worst he caught up the boy

and ran with him to the gorge beside the

river. Allah watched over them, and to

day Amran Ali, thy humble servant, has

the joy of presenting that son of Lari Khan

to thee."

Amran poured out his explanation in

triumphant tones, and his evident sincerity

seemed to impress the Prince.

" Is this so ? " he said, turning quickly to

Bob. " Hast thou anything to say regarding

this story ? "

He fixed a piercing glance upon Bob.

" I know nothing about it, my lord," said

the lad. " It is a tale Amran is fond of

telling, and to him it seems truth. I can sayno more than that a black man named

Nusseer lived with my father in an islandcalled the Isle of Man, and that he was veryfond of me. My father gave me this star a

short while before he died, and I shall alwaystreasure it as a sacred gift."

" Thou speakest the tongue of theAfghan well; who taught thee ? " said

the Prince.

" My father, and Nusseer also taught methe language of the Sikhs."

The Prince looked from one to the other,

and muttered something under his breath.Amran remembered the black beard and

the effect it had produced upon Mahomed

Hassan.

" Would ni}' lord allow me to prove

my words by a simple test ? " he said.

" Let the youth turn his back upon mylord, and then thou canst look upon him

bearded."

" What fooling is this ? " growled Akbar

Khari, thinking that Amran Ali was about

to play some trick. " How can a lad become

bearded ? "

Bob turned away, and, putting on the

beard, swung round and faced the Prince.

" B y Allah!" said Akbar, with a gasp

jf astonishment, and making a quick step

forward. " It is Lari Khan himself!

Praises be to the Prophet, never have I seen

so great a miracle ! "

He grasped Bob's hand and shook it

vigorously. " Never saw I such a likeness—

'tis he, himself, as I have seen him hundredsof times in the fort among the hills, and yet,

I know thou art but a lad. How old art

thou ? "

" I am nearly eighteen," replied Bob.

"T ha t would make it right," said the

Pri nce ; " 'tis sixteen years ago since the

accursed Afreedee tried to kill me, and thou

wert then some two years of age. I hail

thee, sir, for, by the Prophet, thou art the son

of Lari Khan."The delight of the Prince was unbounded,

for Lari Khan had endeared himself both toDost Mohammed and to his son Akbar, and

an Afghan, while he never forgets a feud, at

the same time is always faithful to those

whom he honours with his friendship. He

ordered a tent to be placed at the service

of Bob and Amran Al i, and invited them to

dine with him that day. In addition he sent

a handsome outfit for Bob , and begged him

to wear the star always in his turban.

" Thou shalt be known as Lari Khan of

the Diamond Star," he said, " and wherever

the soldiers of Dost Mohammed see thee, they

shall serve thee as they would the great Khan

himself."

That evening, as Bob was standing at the

door of his tent, ho saw Dervish Khan with a

number of his horsemen gallop across the

plain. Behind him were a number of

Beloochee prisoners. The Khan was in a

furious rage as he spurred towards his

tent.

" Bring that dog before Akbar Khan," he

shouted to one of his officers. Bob saw the

Beloochee chief hurried forward.

" My lord," cried Dervish Khan to Akbar

Khan, as he saluted, " this lying dog attacked

me, with his followers, in the Pass a few miles

from here. As I drew near him, he cried thatI had deceived them, sajdng that he hadfound the barricade deserted by my men and

that the traders had escaped. I demanded

what he meant "

" Peace, Dervish Khan," interruptedAkbar, with an impatient gesture, " what

am I concerned in the sayings of a Beloochee

thief ? Deal with him as thou wilt. He is

naught to me."

"Nay, my lord Akba r," said the

Beloochee, " we desired to offer ourselves for

thy service, and were coming to the camp.

On the way we overtook some rich tradersand levied tribute from them. But the dogsescaped, after killing our chief and manymen. Twice they eluded us with theircunning wiles, but Dervish Khan met us by

the barricade and agreed to aid us in the

pursuit. We waited until the time

appointed by Dervish Khan had passed.When we came to the barricade, lo, it was

deserted ! We raced along the Pass, mad forthe blood of the traders, when once again we

met Dervish Khan with twenty horsemen.

He called to us to scatter because he was on

important business for thee. We reminded

him of what he had said to us, but he swore

that he had only just then come up from thycamp, and called us lying thieves . He

charged us and, having killed some of our

friends, rode madly down the Pass towards

Dadur. As we came forward to find thee,

having camped for a time to bury our dead,

he returned and attacked us once again,

making us prisoners, and here we are."

" Liar of a Beloochee," roared Dervish

Khan, " I told thee that I had never seen

thee until the moment I rode up to thee in

the Pass."

Akbar Khan was a man of keen intelli

gence, and, remembering Bob's black beard,

as he glanced at Dervish Khan, he saw how

the land laj'. " Lari Khan," he shouted,

" come forward as thou appearest when

boarded like thy father ."

Unnoticed by the Beloochee, Bob slipped

on the beard and stepped before the Prince.

He saluted and stood to attention.

" Comrade of mine," said Akbar Khan,

with a meaning smile, " tell this Beloochee

the punishment which is awarded to those

who attack the friends of Akbar Khan. He

has suffered already at the hand of Dervish

Khan, and his eyesight is not keen. It

may be that his tongue is too large for his

mouth, but, by Allah ! we can soon amend

that, if its wagging troubles friends of mine."

My lor d," replied B ob , for he realised

that the Beloochecs had already paid dearly

for their attack upon Amran and himself,

"it is gloomy in the Pass and men do not

always see clea rly ; but in the plain here,

it is clear enough. The chief by this timeknows that he made a mistake, for Dervish

Khan is a soldier whoso word is always

true, and doubtless he will see to it that his

tongue does not bring about his own un

doing. If the Beloochecs desire to serve

thee, they will have many opportunities

to show their sorrow for past mistakes."

The Beloochecs were glad for the incident

to pass in this manner, and Dervish Khan

was quick to perceive that something lay

beneath. Bob went back to his tent and

hid the beard, but at the dinner-table thatnight, all the officers noticed that the stalwart beardless youth was wearing the starwhich shone in the turban of the unknown

officer who so closely resembled the re

doubtable Dervish Khan.

CHAPTER XIII.

T H E M U L L A H O F G H A R I G H I LZ A I .

A K B A K K H A N had learned from liis spies

all about the great gathering of the British

and Sikhs at Ferozepore, and that Shah

Shujah had been recruiting vigorously

among the Douranees. He knew that an

effort was to be made to place Shujah on

the throne of Kabul, and for some time

had been gathering his men to resist the

passage of the armies through the Khyber

Pass, the most direct road to Kabul . But

the resistance at Herat had revealed the

fact that the Persians and Russians were

not likely to help Dost Mohammed in the

struggle, and Akbar Khan had hurried

with his best men across the country to

Kandahar and the adjacent territories.

Meanwhile, his spies reported the divisionof the British forces, and that a strong army

was making for the Bolan Pass, clearly to

invade Afghanistan from that side ratherthan from the Khyber. It was a very

roundabout way of reaching Kabul, theheart of the country, and Akbar Khan,

distrusting the loyalty of the Beloochees

and Mchrab, Khan of Khelat, had marchedto the Khojack Pass and thence to the

Shawl valley. Trusted officers had thenbeen sent to Khelat, to find out whether

Mehrab Khan intended to be faithful toDost Mohammed, and to the various head

men of the Beloochecs. It was to meet

the messenger from the Khan of Khelat

that Dervish Khan had been sent down theBolan.

From this man, Akbar learned that 20,000

Beloochee warriors were gathering around

the entrance of the Pass and that Mehrab

Khan with his men would offer every resis

tance, and place all the obstacles he could

in the way of the advancing troops. The

rugged, inhospitable, and barren country,

always difficult, would offer almost in

superable difficulties in winter, when snow

and ice blocked the narrow roads and fierce

storms swept down the passes. An armyof natives of the hot plains of Hindostancould hardly be expected to brave the

severities of a high and storm-beaten upland,

nearly six thousand feet above the sea leve l;

and the long train of camels, mules and

guns, with the huge camp following which

always trudges after an Eastern army,would offer splendid opportunities for thewild Afghans of the mountains to sweepdown upon, and murder and rob.

Every straying man would be picked off,

grass cutters and water carriers waylaid and

murdered, tired servants and women

assailed from dark cov ert s; in fact, it was

an opportunity which seldom came in theway of the tribes, and the good news sped

through the mountains like wildfire.

The Afghan is one of the fiercest of fighters

when the struggle is on ground which is

familiar, and he dearly loves to lie in wait

upon the almost inaccessible mountain slopes

above some pass, and swoop down upon

the wayfarers or soldiers in the ravines

beneath. Besides, he is the most patriotic

of men, and the fact that Shah Shujah was

being supported by British bayonets and

Sikh swords, and that Afghanistan itself was

being invaded in order to place him on the

throne at Kabul, filled every Afghan with

ungovernable fury. The Sikhs and Fering

hees might enter the country and penetratethe passes, but every Afghan swore by Allah

that their bones should whiten on the bleak

mountain roads, and that not one invadershould e v r return to the plains of the Indus.

So satisfied was Akbar Khan with the

reports v hich came in to him from all

quarters, that he determined to withdraw

his men to Kandahar, Chuznee and Kabul,



Through A._fghan Snobus. 551

a few days Bob had a. tremendous headache and hisheart fluttered in a mostpeculiar way. At nighteverything froze, and hefound pieces of ice on hispillow, his very breath

turning to ice. Sometimes it was too cold

for anj'one to sleep,and the soldiers gath

ered round the thistleand dung fires, and jumped about in order

to gett h e i rblood incirculation.

A n (1

' Presently the

Beloochee chief

showed himself

again. 'Oh , Der

vish Khan,' he

c ri ed . . . ' m a y

we follo w thee to the cam p of

Akbar Khan, that we may

proffer our allegi anc e t o him ? ' "

(See p. 5 4 9 . )

and from this last city direct the operations.He sent Amran Ali olf to Abdul the Mullahto tell him that the son of Lari Khan wasin camp with him, and appointed a meetingplace about one hundred miles from theGhilzai's hill fortress.

A few days later the Afghans were hurrying through the Khojack Pass, on theirway to Ghuznee and Kabul . It was nowbitterly cold. Every night a thermometerwould have registered many degrees of frost, and on the high mountains heavysnow lay thick upon the ground. All daythe sun blazed upon the white mantle,

causing much suffering, even among thehardy Afghans. Bob covered his faceentirely with the thick felt, making slitstherein for his eyes and mouth. He realised,then, the comfort of the splendid Herat clothand the Turkoman felt.

The wind cut like a knife. As they climbedhigher the air became more rarefied. For

yet BoD never felt in better health. His appetite was enormous, and he was always readyfor the abundant meals which were provided.

After a severe march they crossed theIvwaja Amran Range and got through therugged Khojack Pass, and then bore off to thenorth-east through Kalat-i-Ghilzai, untilthey came right into the heart of the Ghilzais'country. Here Akbar Khan had appointedthe meeting place with Abdul the Mullah,before his soldiers separated for their differentposts of duty at Kandahar, Ghuznee andKabul.

He halted about three miles from a large

and beautiful lake, in a fertile stretch of country where there was an abundance of well-grown fruit trees. In the afternoonthey heard the sound of firing and singing,

•and a line of about two hundred men wasseen stringing down the hill-side. Flagswere waving, and soon a picturesque-lookingchief rode into the camp.

He was a fine-looking man of about sixtyyears of age, although his dyed hair andboard gave no indication of his years.Amran Ali rode beside him, his face lit upwith joyful triumph. He had told the Mullahall about B ob, and the chief had set off at once to welcome the son of Lari Khan .

The meeting, so far as the Mullah wasconcerned, was a very affecting one. He

had loved Lari Khan with an affectionwhich seemed to grow stronger as the yearshad gone by, and the circumstances of hisdisappearance had only deepened his love.

The tears rolled down his cheeks when,at his request, Bob fastened the beard uponhis face, for the likeness to his dead friendwas a wonderful one.

"Thou art welcome, my son," he murmured, as he clasped Bob in his arms, "forthi ne own as well as for thy father's sake.

Truly thou art Lari Khan, asI knew him in the golden days,when we wandered togetherthrough Asia, comrades of oneheart and mind, blood-brotherswhom difficulty and danger hadwelded together. I took thee

in mine arms when thou werta tiny infant, and have mournedfor thee and for thy parentsfor many a long year. Thouhast his star, I see; it is atoken which will bind the heartsof all the Ghilzai tribesmento thee. My lord Akbar Khan.I have long served thy father

and loved thee, but now, byAllah, thou hast bound myheart to thee by a chain thatnothing can break."

Again he saluted the Prince,and kissed the hilt of the swordwhich Akbar Khan held out tohim, and a great cheer rose from

his followers." I know thee, Abdul theMullah, faithful and true chief,and in the stormy times whichare coming for my father andhis followers, thou wilt be ashelter and a fortress to us.Thy heart will never falter norplay the traitor, of that I amassured, and this young manwill be a comfort to thee in thydays of weakness and old age.Thy fortress will not be inthe direct line of advance, andthe tide of invasion will hardlywash the base of thy mountainhome, but I know that thouwilt play the man's part when

thou art cal led upon, and thygates will ever be open for DostMohammed and his son."

With many protestations of fealty Abdulthe Mullah bade farewell to Akbar Khan,and when the army had swept out of sighthe escort ed Lari Khan and Amran Al i, andled his Ghilzais back to their home amongthe mountains. It was a toilsome two days' journey, and it was not until the late after

noon that Bob's eyes rested upon the fortressof Abdul the Mullah.

Descending a sharp mountain spur hesaw, about three miles away, an Afghantown of about a mile in length and aboutthe same distance in breadth. It had mudwalls about seven feet high, and was enteredby

a number of heavy gates. On the farside a long straight canal ran, with largeshady trees on its banks, and wide vineyards. At various distances a numberof round, rough stone towers wereerected.

About two or three miles from the principalgate of the town or village was a large



The "Boy's Otvn Taper.

•quare fortress, looking out upon a narrowriver which ran from the mountains. Ahuge cistern seemed to be supplied by thisriver. Abo ut one hundred yards from theprincipal gate of the town there arosea very large building, of rough mountainstone. Near the town three high roundtowers defended the walls, while, at eachcorner of the parallelogram, other towerslooked down upon the plain. There were

two gateways, one 'in the middle of the wallfacing the town, and the other oppositethe canal. The vineyards and gardenswere all defended with thick loopholedwalls. The town seemed to contain aboutfive thousand people.

" There, Lari Khan," said Abdul, reiningin his horse, and pointing proudly to thecastle, " there is Ghari Ghilzai, my homeand yours, and there are the dwellings of my people. TI13' father's fortress, nowdismantled, was situated many miles fromhere, but this place is as much your ownas it is mine. I have no wife nor childand one day, by the will of Allah, you maybe chief of the Ghilzai people dwelling inthis plain, and all nvy possessions shall beyours."

Bob could not find words to reply, forcircumstances had so fallen out for him thathe hardly knew what to think. From thequiet Manx glen to the gipsy caravan , andfrom the wandering life of a petty traderto the position of a chieftain over a wildAfghan tribe, was too wonderful for thelad's mind to take in all at once, and he sathis horse like a man in a dream. His ownAfghan dress, the wild fierce tribesmenabout him, and the sight of the frowningfortress and quiet town, appeared like scenesof a vision, and he felt that a word wouldcause him to awaken and make everythingdisappear.

The great mountains capped with snow,Bleeping like giants all around the town,

added to the wonder of the whole, and hesat his horse in amazed silence, until therattle of the hoofs over the drawbridge,and the shouts of welcome of the excitedpeople, aroused him to the fact that all wasreal. They rode along a wide, stone-pavedroad, until they entered the great courtyard of the fortress, and the servants rushedout to help him to alight.

Next day he had a long interview withthe Mullah, and Abdul made him acquaintedwith the story of his father's life, so far asit had been lived in Afghanistan. He toldthe tragic history of the fierce hatred of thechieftain, Afzul Ali, and his murderousattack on Lari Khan's house, when AkbarKhan, the young son of Dost Mohammed,had barely escaped with his life. And then

he told him of the murder of his mother bythe pistol of Afzul Ali , who had shot herdown remorselessly, as she tried to intercedefor her husband and child.

He gave Bob a miniature of her, and,for the first time in his life, the lad lookedupon the picture of his mother. It was thatof a high-bred woman of striking beauty,and on the back of the picture was writtenin a bold hand the name " Mary LeslieDallas."

Tears stood on his cheeks as he kissedthe face, and then he swept them away asAbdul told him of the barbarous treatmenthis father had received from the hands of Afzul Ali. He remembered the crippled,earless father, who was always a prisoneron his long cane chair, and he vowed a vowof bitter vengeance against the Afreedceruffian who had brought such sorrow intoall their lives.

" Does he live yet ? " asked Bo b, as heclenched his fists.

" He does, Lari Khan, and is stronger

than ever. He hates Dost MohammedKhan, and despite all the efforts made toentrap him has always evaded capture.His fortress is one of the strongest in Afghanistan, and is crowded with men. Foryears he has been plotting with Shah Shujahat Lhoodiana, and is no doubt concernedin all the movements which have been madeto replace the Shah upon the throne at Kabul.He is younger by some years than I am,

and one of the ablest and fiercest of theAfreedees, but some day it may pleaseAllah to give him into our hands, andthen—and then—"

Abdul the Mullah did not say whatwould happen when Afzul Ali was captured,but the fierce light in his eyes spoke moreeloquently than any words could have done,and Bob was satisfied that the full accountwould be paid. He then told Abdul allthe story of his own adventures from thetime he had slipped away in the Maggie,and Abd ul laughed as he spoke of hisstruggle to obtain the diamond star fromReuben.

" It is by strange ways," said Abdul, ashe patted Bob's hand in a fatherly kinel of

way, " that Allah brings about his ownwill in the lives of men. We seem to chooseour own path, but the will of One mightierprevails . Thy course was marked out forthee by the great Hand, and though thoudidst not know that Afghanistan was thytrue home, thy steps were turned this way ;and over the black water, and the red plain,

and through the mountain pass and thedevices of men, One was leading thee tothe old chief who would have died for thyfather, and who loves thee for his sake andthine own."

" Ay , and more than that, my lord Abdul,the Eternal God who rules the lives of menloves justice and judgment, and will notsuffer the wrongdoer to go unpunished.There is blood upon the hand of Afzul Ali,

innocent blood, and though I do not knowhim nor where he abides, I feel that someday my pistol butt will hammer on thegates of his fortress, and my voice andhand summon him to account for his misdeeds. And yet , my lord Abdul, I must notdeceive thee ; I speak thy language, butstill I am an Englishman, and my heartis with the soldiers of my nation. I shallnever lift a hand against them in anger,and if thy lord summons thee to fight onhis side against the British, I will abide athome ; and if at any time I can serve them,without any treachery to thee, I shall doso, though all Afghanistan stood and •threatened me with death. In all else,anel against every other foe, I am one withthee, but when I see the Union Jack flying.I am an Englishman, pleelged by my raceand blood to uphold it and to save itfrom reproach."

" Thou art a man, Lari Khan, my son, "said the old chief, " and I love theethe more for thy faith to thine ownland."

[To he continued.)

S o SIMPLE.

" T h e I n v e r t e d P i n . "

By SOMERVILLE GIBNEY,

Author of " A Thought-Heading Show, and how to give it," etc.

T H A V E made use of the above heading moreX for old association's sake than for theexact idea it conveys of the little trick I amabout to describe : for to me it appearsanything but simple, save in the ease withwhich it can be performetl.

It is now some years since I have beenable to give the readers of the " B.O.P."anything new in the nature of the easy experiments which, from time to time, appearedin these pages under the above heading, forsomehow or other there do not appear to

have been so many of these discovered orhit upon of late, or it may be that I havenot been fortunate enough to come acrossthem. However, here it is.

Take an ordinary visiting card—a thickishone is best—and a fair-sized pin, and withthe pin make a hole in the card. Then,closing the left eye, and taking the card inthe left hand, and the pin by the point inthe right, hold them up before the right eyetowards a strong light, the card about sixinches from the face, and the fingers of theright hand steadied against the side of the

nose, getting the head of the pin and thehole in the card in a line. If the readerhappens to be a member of a cadet corps, Ican make the matter plainer by instructinghim to use the hole in the card as the foresight and the head of the pin as the backsight of his rifle or carbine, and he will seea curious result.

From the pin being so near his eye it willbe all out of focus, and blurred, and thehead will be a mere hazy undefined blotchof light, but the hole, some six inches away,will be more sharp and clear, and in thecentre will appear the black figure of thehead and part of the shank of the pin,only it will be reversed, the head beingdownwards.

Why this should be so I must leave othersmore versed in optics than myself to explain.To me it seems curious that the pin, whichthe eye cannot define clearly, should throwa clear black reversed image of itself inthe little circle of light formed by thepin-hole.



553

fifi

A Complete

Story.

R E D M I K C . "

An A d v e n t u r e in t h e G r e a t N o r ' - W e s t .

By HORACE A. WOOLLEY,

Author of " The Ranchowner's Secret," etc.

" TT may be foolish of me, but I confessJ_ I'm not altogether easy about your

going, Jeff," said Mr. Warner to the tall,straight-standing Colonial at his side." although I particularly want thismessage left at Willow Creek by to-morrowmorning."

"Why not, Dad ? " asked his strapping,seventeen-year-old son in surprise. " I've

often been before."" I know you have, lad, and in the

ordinary way I'd fear nothing ; but RedMike's been seen again and somehow Idon't quite fancy the idea of you two "

"Pooh, I reckon we can look after ourselves all right, Red Mike or no Red Mike ! "laughed Jeffrey. " What say you, Alf ? "he added, turning to his chum.

" We ought to be able to," smiled thelatter. " But who is this Red chap '! "

" A horse-stealer," replied Jeffrey's father—" a wild, desperate rogue who sticks atnothing in his lawless pursuits. That'swhy I'm rather uncomfortable."

" But we're well armed, Dad, and not badshots either. Besides, he hasn't been spotted

in these parts, has he ? "" No; I understand he was last seen

round by Blue Fork Valley.""" Blue Fork Valley ! " exclaimed Jeffrey,

laughing. " Why . that's miles away fromhere—in the opposite direction to Willow

Creek! Now Dad, don't let that worry youan y; we're not likely to strike his trailmuch this journey, anyhow. Now, Alf—

up you get."" N o ; I don't for a moment think

you'll meet Red Mike," the ranchowneradmitted, "although he may be nearerthan is supposed. Well," as the chumsmounted their steeds, " bye-bye ; take careof yourselves ! "

" Be a bit of a lark if we did run up againstthe bounder," said Alf as they rode off." A bout with a horse-thief ought to beinteresting."

" Rather ! It's time his little game wasstopped, too. He's done no end of mischief,and is, by all accounts, a cruel wretch. Buthe'll swing one day," added Jeff, grimly.

At that time horse-stealing was a capital

C H A P T E R T . A N I G H T V I S I T O R .

offence, punished by hanging, though forthe matter of that the rogue in question wasguilty of deeper crimes than that of barteringand selling stolen horseflesh.

" Ever given your people any trouble ? "" Very little. Generally steers clear of

us," replied Jeff, with a grim smile. " Knowsour boys have an ugly knack of obeying theold law ' shoot first and shoot to kill' where

night-prowlers are concerned ! "" You'd know the sweep, I suppose ? "" Yes ; only seen him once, though. But

that was enough ! ''" Guess his hair tells you who he is ! I say,"

Alf burst out as they gained the open prairie," this is absolutely topp ing ! "

So saying, he gave his mare her headand dashed off with a wild whoop like anarrow from a bow.

" Steady, old man ; we've a longish trip,re mem be r! " called Jeff. " Make it acanter if you will, but no racing."

Alfred Boughton had only been about acouple of months in the country, his school

days having lately been concluded, and thevast, wide-sweeping plains with their grassy

waves and hollow s appealed strongly to him.His parents had died when he was quiteyoung, and Mr. Warner, an old friend of hisfather's, had offered him a home out Westwhen his schooling was finished—an offer

Alf was only too glad to ac cept.

He and Jeff were awfully " pally," havingtaken to one another from the start. Jeffreyhad been born and bred in the Colony, andas his father's ranch was situated far outin the north-west away from any town, hewas thoroughly used to frontier life, being indeed, despite his j'outh, a ranchman, trapper,hunter and scout all rolled into one. Alreadyhe had taught his chum many useful things,and Boughton was proving himself a highlypromising pupil.

They rode on steadily all the afternoonwithout seeing a soul, except a few Indiansin the distance. Dusk was closing downon the scene when they came up to a beltof woodland.

" Sweetwater Bluff," announced Jeff,drawing rein. " Our camp for to-night. "

" My, your Willow" Creek trading post

must be a mighty long way," smiled theother as he dismounted. "Shan't strike itto-day, then ? "

" No ; had we started earlier we shouldhave reached the store by now, but fatherdidn't hear of this business until after lunch.Still, we've put in a tidy bit—quite enoughfor you, at any rate—and we'll be in earlyto-morrow. Meanu bile, we'll have some grub

and a rest. I'm jolly hungry."In quick time the horses were saddle-

loosed, tethered and fed, the fire started, thekettle filled from the spring near by, fromwhich the clump of trees took its name, andthe meal prepared.

Their hunger appeased and the cooking

utensils washed and made ready for breakfast, the chums sat down under the stars andyarned of many things until they began tofeel drowsy.

" Reckon we'd better be turning in,"observed Jeffrey at length, getting up andthrowing some more wood on the fire."You look sleepy, old chap."

" I am, and that's a fact. Say, how aboutkeeping watch ? Shall I have first go ? "

" No need. I always sleep with one eyeopen ; the least unusual sound'll wake me. "" It'll take a lot of noise to rouse me ! "

yawned Alf. " I'm awfully tired."Ten minutes later they had both rolled

themselves up in their blankets, stretchedout with their feet towards the fire, and werefast asleep.

It seemed to Jeff that he had been wrappedin slumber for about four minutes, thoughit was nearer that number of hours as heafterwards found , when the snapping of some dry twigs jerked him instantly to fullalertness. Seizing his rifle he sprang up,kicked the fire into a blaze, and woke Alf.

"Wha t's u p ? " inquired the lattersleepily.

" Heard something," replied Jeff, peeringforth into the darkness. " Shove some morewood on the fire. May be wolves, but I don'tthink so."

" P'raps it was only the nags moving."" No—they'r e quiet enough. Besides, it

sounded like—Hark ! Hear that ? "The listeners could now plainly catch a



554 The *Boy's Otvn Taper.

scrunching sound as of undergrowth being

trampled on by heavy feet.

" Somebody's coming," said Alf, grabbing

his rifle. " Who on earth can be tramping

about here at this time of night ? "

" I'm wondering," was the calm rejoinder." Don't suppose it's anyone who'll seek to

harm us, but in case it should be a two-legged wolf with a pop-gun we'll skip out of

the firelight till we know."

Scarcely had they moved when a rugged,

broad-chested man leading a fine black

horse stepped from the wood into thecamp-fire's circle of light.

C H A P T E R I I . T H E F I G H T I N T H E S T O R M .

T H E effect on Jeffrey was instantaneous.

" I say ! it's Ben Naylor ! " he cried,

dashing out with a joyous laugh. " Come

on, Alf."

Big Ben Naylor, well known to Jeff, was a

fearless trapper and scout, one of the finest

shots in the north-west of the Dominion.

" Ay, it' s me sure nuff," came his deep-toned voice as he shook hands with the boys.

" But what yer doin' hyur, sonny ? Game-huntin' ? "

Jeffrey explained, then got ready somefood and drink for the big trapper, who saidhe would join them for a while, but would

have to be off by daybreak.

" You haven't seen anything of RedMike, I suppose?" smiled Alf, as theyturned in. Somehow, he had been thinking of

that notorious scoundrel ever since he woke.

" No ; but the skunk's bin up to his dirty

tricks agin," growled Ben Naylor, frowningdarkly. " He's a slippery dog or he'd 'a bin

cotched 'fore now'."

" Is he with others ? " Jeff put in.

" Wal, he had a pardner, but I believehe's playing a lone hand now. Reckon he

can't be so very far from hyur either, forone of Grant's boys told me this arternoon

he'd seen him prowling round their place.If I hadn't to push on to Mooseville I'd

be arter him, you bet. An' look here,

while I think on it, you young fellers had

better keep your eyes skinned. If the cur'sstill heading south you may come acrost

his trail 'fore yer git back. Remember

Red Mike don' t often show himself in the

open ;' he strikes in the dark, so watch out

or you'll be up agin trouble. Guess he'dplug you full o' lead for them two ponies

o' yourn."

" Cheerful prospect ! " laughed Jeff.

" Thanks for the tip; we won't forget.

Good night, Ben."

They parted at daybreak, the burlytrapper going eastward, while the two chumsheld on their way down to Willow Creek,

which was reached without further incident.

The message delivered, they mounted and

turned their steeds toward home.

" Don't much like the look of the sky,"

remarked Jeff, as they jogged on over the

rolling prairie about sundown. " Come,"

touching his horse's neck, " we'd better hoof

it a bit quicker."" Hope we're not in for what we had

t'other night," said Alf, glancing at the

dark clouds. " Don't fancy your electrical

displays ! "

" Afraid there's one brewing yonder,"

continued Jeff, pointing to a solid mass of

deep-black cloud hanging low down over

the sky.

" Still, we haven' t many more miles toknock off and—Hullo ! " he exclaimed,

espying something ahead. " What 's that ? "

" Indians ? " hazarded Alf, following thedirection indicated ; " or is it cattle ? "

" That's nearer. It's either a herd of

cattle or a band of horses."

" Roaming about, you mean ? But theyought to be in corral by now."

" Unless they've strayed ! " voiced Jeff,

w ith a queer grin.

" How far off do you reckon they are ? "

" All of three miles—p'raps four. This

way," turning aside to a hollow where he

dismounted. " I'm not satisfied yet . Stay

there a see."

Topping a knoll close by, Jeffrey gazed

long and earnestly at the dark mass ahead.

" They're horses right enough," he de

clared on his return. "And they're not

unattended either ! "The two looked hard at each other.

" R e d Mike," suggested Alf, voicing his

chum's own thought.

"May be—can't sa y; but we'll soon

know."

" What are you going to do—wait for

the beggar ? "

" N o ; I've an idea he's stopped. Probablyhe's bivouacking; he'll hardly try to keep

that lot together in the dark."

" Think we've been seen ? "

" No, I don't, but we jolly soon wouldhave been, if we'd gone much farther. Those

animals may be honestly come by, but we'llheed Ben's warning all the same. Come—

let's on."Mounting, they went forward for some

distance without seeing anything. Thewhole pack of horses seemed to have completely disappeared.

"There 's a two-mile stretch of woodland

near to where we first spotted 'em," said Jeff,

changing their course. " He's driven 'em

in there, I expect."

Nightfall saw them entering this piece

of forest, at a point chosen by Jeffrey, and

now it was necessary to advance with great

caution, for obviously if they had chanced

on Red Mike, the situation would need some

careful handling, especially if the last-named

saw them, or got wind of their approach,before they discovered his presence.

Presently, as they moved silently through

the dark woods, the whinny of a horse reached

them plainly.

Jeffrey stopped and listened intently,then, handing his mount to his companion,

dropped to the ground and drew himself in

snake-fashion in the direction of the sound.

Proceeding warily, with every sense keenly

on the alert, he soon gained a spot where,by the light of a camp-fire, he saw all he

wanted to know.

" It's the beauty himself," he whispered,rejoining Alf without a sound. " The beg

gar's camped down, driven the nags into a

clump and made a sort of corral for 'em

by winding lassos round the trees. Now—mum's the word. "

Leaving their horses tied to a tree they

cautiously approached the hiding-place Jeff

had just quitted. Arrived there they

crouched with their rifles handy, and peeredforth to behold, seated outside his tent by

the fire, a giant of a man dressed in cow-boy

costume with a huge sombrero pulleil wellover his face. And what a face !

Almost covered with thick red whiskers

and moustache, with beady, darting eyes,

a coarse, cruel mouth, and over all a mostferocious expression, the sight of that visage

was, indeed, calculated to strike terror into

anyone coming upon the villain thus.

Alf, as he gazed, must have made some

involuntary sound or movement, for withan oath the scoundrel suddenly seized his

rifle and sprang to his feet.

Instantly a sharp report rang out from

Alf's side, and a bullet struck the lock of

Red Mike's gun, knocking the weapon from

his hand.

" Hands up, Red Mike ! " came Jeff's

stern command. " We've got the drop on

you this time, y ou . rascally thief. Don' tattempt to pick up that rifle—leave it where

it is.'.'

The horse-thief only obeyed one portion

of the order. He did not try to regain his

rifle. But instead of raising his hands he

whipped a revolver from his belt, fired

blindly in the direction of the voice, and

leaping desperately to the trees vanished in

the wood.

It all happened so quickly that Jeff's

second shot came a fraction too late.

Ere more could be said or done the stormburst upon them in all its fury. Down camethe rain, hissing and spattering—then in

sheets, splashing on the ground with a loud

noise. Blinding lightning of every description

rent the heavens, and terrific thunder shook the earth, while the horses began to whinny

w ith fright.

Gripping their rifles the lads lay perfectly

still, fully aware that any one of those vivid

flashes might reveal Red Mike's whereabouts,

or show up their own place of concealment

to the keen-eyed rascal.

They had not long to wait. The first

few flashes passed without result, then came

a more vivid one, and in that dazzlingbrightness the crouching figure was seen,

quite near, crawling up to take them in the

rear.Fortunately they had anticipated this,

and so ere the rogue's vicious six-shooter

could bark forth its message of death two

rifles spoke in rapid succession, followed

instantly by a howl of pain and a horrible

string of curses.

"Winged him," muttered Jeff. "Look

out," as a bullet whizzed by, "he's goingto rush ! "

Hardly were the words uttered when the

giant, firing again, came crashing through

the darkness.Jeff, springing nimbly aside, escaped,

but Alf was not quite so smart, and thoughthe bullet did not hit him he could not avoid

the onslaught that followed its dispatch.

Too late, he threw himself back. There

was a brief scuffle—then a thud.A sudden flash illumined the scene for a

moment. Jeff glimpsed his chum's pronefigure with the huge, burly form of Red

Mike towering above, then as the savage

scoundrel wheeled with levelled revolver

the butt of the young Colonial' s rifle descended with smashing force, just missing

the fellow's skull, but nevertheless dealing

a stunning blow that sent him to the ground.

"That 's settled it so fa r! " he pantedgrimly. " Has the brute hurt you, Alf ? "

"No t much," replied the latter, getting

to his feet. " Reckon I've come off prettywell considering."

While Alf renewed the camp-fire, which

the downpour had nearly quenched, Jeff,

aided by the lightning, bound and examined

his captive, whose left arm had been woundedby one of their shots.

Then, having got him inside the tent, Jeff

w ent off to quieten the corraled horses, and

bring their own ponies into the camp.

"Guess we can't do much more untildaybreak," he said on returning. " Storm's

well-nigh spent now. Say, it was hot work,

Alf, but"—with a meaning glamce at the

open tent-curtain—" we've made good, oldman. Wonder what Dad would say if he

could see us now ! "

Just what Mr. Warner said when they

turned up next morning with the capturedhorse-thief and his bunch of animals need

not be detailed, but Red Mike paid the full

penalty for his crimes, and Jeff and Alf

received hearty expressions of thanks fromseveral sources for the great service they

had rendered in ridding the country of so

dangerous a character.



555

D o Y o u W a n t t o P l a y f o r Y o u r C o u n t y ?

A Ser ie s o f Ei ght Art ic l es Spec ia l ly Wr it te n Tor the " B . O . P . "

By WILFRED RHODES

(The famous Yorkshire and England Cricketer).

E R T A I N L Y there is

no department in

the game of cricket

,J) which is at so low

an ebb as that of

fielding ; of course, I

refer moro to fielding

in junior or local

games than first-class

cricket, although per

haps it isn't all that

it should be in County

fixtures. However, on

all our County en

closures a great

Some fielders are so amount of fielding

k e e n

i practice is indulged

in, and it is a great

pity that the boys of even park clubs do

not endeavour to become more proficient

by going in for fielding practice.

The average boy cricketer to-day scarcely

troubles his head about these matters.

Quite a number of fields, who make a

respectable show so long as the ball has to

be stopped, are utterly nonplussed when

it has to be pursued for any distance.

Usually they finish up an inglorious ex

hibition with a tame jerk that stops yards

short of the wicket. Two or three enthu

siasts throwing a ball from one to another

may accomplish something, but from a

throw the ball does not come in quite the

same way that it does from the bat. Field

ing will never be what it should be until

clubs have the pluck to take down the nets

at least once a week and devote the evening

to the practice, not of batting merely, but

of the whole game.

It is a strange fact that batsmen invariably

overrate the saving in point of time resulting

from dashing fielding. If there is a player

who invariably meets his ball, gathering

and returning it in a single motion, the

batsmen will hesitate about a perfectly safe

run when they see that he is trying to

prevent it. This applies particularly to

brilliant cover-points and mid-offs; but

it is more or less true of fine fields in any

position. It is not only single runs that

are stopped; safe threes and fours are

converted into twos and threes.

There is a moment in a batsman's career

when he is incapable of fine judgments;

this is, when he has completed two or three

runs and is about to turn for another. If

at that exact moment he is oppressed by

the recollection of the excellence of the

acting fieldsman, he will hesitate, and the

run will be thrown away.

The greatest fault in fielding is, in myopinion, carelessness or inattention, and the

greatest sufferer is the fast bowler. It needs

no wonderful power of discernment to see how

much worse the fast bowler is punished

than the slow or medium - paced trundler

in this respect. Watch the attitudes of

the men in the field when a slow bowler goes

C H A P T E R V I . S O M E A D V I C E U P O N F I E L D I N G .

on. Everyone is on the tip-toe of ex

pectation, each individual standing in such

a manner that it will be easy to stop the

flight of the ball after i t is hit. This is how

it should be, not only to the slow bowler

but to the fast as well; yet take notice of

the solid manner in which every man

plants himself on his particular yard of

turf when the fast bowler takes up the

attack. So long as the ball comes direct

to him he is all right, but the very manner in

which he stands prevents his covering

much ground and catching that ball which

is but a yard or two to the left or right. Of

course, I am not speaking generally, but

merely of those who make mistakes. My

article is not supposed to deal with correct

fielding.

The greatest sinner in fielding is not the

individual who is thoroughly unable to hold

to just touch that particular kind of ball and

get himself out. He has touched it at last;

the ball has gone just where it was expected

to go ; and, horror of horrors, it is dropped !

But the bowler has his consolation,—it is,

" Sorry, old chap."

The most important branch of fielding is

catching, although proficiency at it does

not stamp a man, as fine ground-work does,

as an exceptional field. The hands, of

course, should give a little to the ball. In

one-handed catches this movement will be

voluntary, but in others it must be made of

set purpose. Making a lofty catch on the

boundary, the fieldsman's hands and elbowswill drop perceptibly. It is best for the

hands to be held with the wrists close

together, and the fingers pointing towards

the oncoming ball (they will point upward

in catching a skier, and towards the batsman

P R E H I S T O R I C C R I C K E T .

A " C r a c k " Batsman.

anything in the shape of a catch. We

know his fault, and he is accordingly

relegated to a position where catches seldom

come. The man who upsets the calculations

of the bowler is he who can generally be

relied upon to stop anything short of a

cannon ball, but who, strange to say, now

and again muffs a catch which would have

been held by anybody who had the slightest

pretension to be considered a good fieldsman.

This player will drop a ball with all the

good humour in the world, and as he crossesover afterwards will mutter a laughing

" Sorry, old chap," imagining that as he

sins so seldom his fault is wiped out.

He quite forgets that in these days of

billiard-table wickets and century-making

batsmen, the poor bowler has been probably

tempting the batsman, for over after over,

in taking a chance at short slip), and the

elbows will be close in to one's sides.

Some critics would dismiss all sensational

one-handed catches as flukes, but it must

be grantetl that these flukes are more apt

to occur with some men than with others.

Judgment, possibly, has more to do with

these matters than is generally thought, but

the judgments are so rapid that they leave

no record on the tables of the memory.

Keenness and attention are the most

prolific causes cf these happy accidents.The opportunities for making sensational

catches come to those who are on the look

out for them. Many fieldsmen stand in a

listless, apathetic attitude; they seem to

have made up their minds that nothing

interesting is ever going to happen again.

Try for every ball hit towards you,



556 The "Boy's Obttn Taper.

whether in the air or along the ground.

Many a wonderful catch has been made

which the fieldsman never thought he

could even reach, still less hold, but which

he tried to reach and catch. Occasionally

A few runs may thus be lost, but the chance

of a wicket is worth the risk in runs, and

even if the chance does not come off the

fieldsman will have won the bowler's heart.

When a catch is missed—as many catches

are—the next thing to do is not to tear one's

hair, but to throw the ball in ; a man is

occasionally run out by a sharp return from

a missed catch. One more hint, " Never

use one hand for a catch when both can

easily be got to the right place " ; but if a

catch is nearly at arm's length from the body,

it is sometimes easier to take it with one hand.

I have known many cricketers who were

able to correctly anticipate almost every

stroke made by a batsman, and although

this may be a very excellent gift to possess, yet

it is often likely to lead one astray, and I don't

think there is anything which gets on your

should have two or three balls to keep going,

in order that the interest may not flag.

A complaint often brought against

cricket is that at any given time only two

or three players are actively engaged.

One or two men are engaged in fielding the

ball, and the rest are doing nothing at all.

A man may stand for an hour in the field

absolutely idle. No one who has ever

known from experience what keen fielding

is, talks like this. The fact is, when a

match is being closely contested, it never

occurs to the enthusiast that he is standing

idle. He identifies himself so completely with

every effort put forth by his companions

that he has the feeling all the time that ho

is exerting himself to the uttermost. The

mere strain on his attention is exhausting.

Another great point in fielding is the

knowledge of how to throw.

From long distances it is a waste of

strength to throw a ball high—a low,

skimming throw is far more useful, and

reaches the wicket quicker. The ball

P R E H I S T O R I C C R I C K E T .

A friendly argument with the Umpire 1

nerves quite so much as watching a zealous

fieldsman wandering about and rushing hither

and thither in anticipation of every stroke.

The beginner should be warned against

trying to be brilliant when, on the face of it,

he can save the run without dashing in, as

brilliant fieldsmen often lose runs by dashing

at the ball and missing it, when running wasthe last thought in the batsmen's minds.

These remarks of mine apply to the

smallest boy player as well as to the County

man. Fielding in that game on a piece of

waste ground where the wicket is an old

tin-can is grudgingly given by those who

have had their innings ; and as we go up,

step by step, in point of class, we see the

same lack of enthusiasm in those who are

in a position to make the game exciting.

I certainly advocate fielding practice which

can be quite easily indulged in for, say,

half an hour each evening at the completion

of net practice. For this, get a man who

can pitch well to come out into the open,

then toss up a ball, and let him smite as

hard as he can to the fieldsmen, who may

range themselves around him at a distance

of from forty to sixty yards. The hitter

should be thrown, too, directly it is fairly

in the hand, as a long preliminary " wind-

up " is wasted time ; the batsman, unable

at once to judge the accuracy of the throw,

dare not start when it is seen to be on its

way. It is very useful to bo able to hit the

wicket, but only rarely should the experi

ment be tried. If the wicket-keeper knowshis business, the time wasted in catch

ing the ball and breaking the wicket is

infinitesimal; if, however, time is very

precious, the fieldsman may throw at the

top, and the t op only, of the stumps.

I could go on telling you something about

the position and duties of every fieldsman ;

but really, so long as you practise catching,

picking up and throwing in, you will surely

become sufficiently proficient to take up any

position assigned to you, and in course of time

you will find out which suits you the best.

The next article in this series will be entitled

" A LITTLE ABOUT WICKET-KEEPING."

THE SCHOONER'S

MATE :

A S t o r y of B u r t o n o f t he Q ue e ns la nd Po l i c e .

By EDWARD C. ADAMS,

Author of " The Stolen Prises" etc.

(Continued from p. 531.)

T ) Y six o'clock Bob was up and at the docks.J ) He was accompanied by an inspector andthey interviewed the various watchmen.In reply to the policeman's questions onefellow answered eagerly.

" Was the chap a tall, clean-shavenfellow ? " he asked.

" No," replied Bob. " He was tall andbig-shouldered, but he had a bushy black beard and walked with a slight limp."

"H'm ! well, there was a fellow came downhere last night. He didn't look like a sailor-man and he fitted the description to a tick except that he didn't have a beard."

" What did he say ? "" He said that he wanted the schooner

Warrago. I told him where she was and hewent on board."

" Where is she now ? We'll have hersearched."

" She sailed six hours ago."" Where's she bound ? "" She's only a forty-tonner and she runs

between here and Thursday Island. Iexpect she'll call at Rockhampton."

Bob turned away with the inspector." Well, sir, what can I do ? If I don't

catch him till he lands he'll give me the slip. "" But you're not sure he's your man."" I am as certain as I can be. I was hot

on his trail until we struck Toowoombaand I could swear it was he I saw makingoff over the lines at the station."

" Then the best thing you can do is totrain to Bundaberg. Yo u ought to pick upa boat to Rockhampton and get there anhour or two before him."

" But suppose I can't ? "" Then j'ou'll lose him."" Couldn't I wire particulars to Rock

hampton and have him arrested there ? "" Yes, but you'd have to go up and identify

him. Besides, it's ri sky if it isn't the rightman. No, my boy, you' d best take himyourself. Let's try and find a schoonerthat's going that way."

They made a round of the berths and atlast found the Albatross, a trim little schoonerof some thirty tons, ready to sail. CaptainSaunders was a friend of the inspector andreadily agreed to take Bob along. The

excitement of the chase appealed to him andhe entered into the thing at once.

They sailed almost immediately and thelittle vessel slipped through the water as thewind filled the raking sails.

For two days they held on and thendown on the horizon they saw the whitesails of a schooner slightly larger than the Albatross. Captain Saunders examined herintently through the glass.

" It's the Warrago right enough, but she'llmake harbour an hour before we do ."

Bob's heart filled with disappointment." Can't \'ou hit her up ? " he asked.The captain looked at the sky for a

moment."I t looks as if we're going to havea blow,"

he remarked. " If we can get a bit more

wind we might manage it, for we've got theheels of that old tub in a breeze."

Anxiously Bob watched the sky for signsof the promised wind, bat not for three hoursdid any change take place. Then the windfreshened and Captain Saunders crowded onall sail. Gradually they overhauled theother vessel and at the very mouth of Rock-



The Schooner's Mate. 557

hampton harbour the little Albatross slippedpast and was fast alongside the quay as theWarrago arrived.

As the larger boat drew alongside thewharf Bob dropped down upon her deck.The crew of nine men were busy wi th thetackle, and he approached the captain.

" Got a j ob ? " he asked as he steppedaft.

For a moment the captain of the Warrago

stared at hi m; then he indicated a tallheavily-built man of about forty years of age, who was superintending the crew atwork unloading the cargo from the hold.

" That's the mate ; ask him."With beating heart Bob approached the

man, who was shouting out harsh commandsto the workers. In answer to Bob's questionhe turned sharply.

" Want a job, eh ! Right oh ! Get a moveon and shift those casks."

In a twinkling Bob was busy. He could

hardly keep his mind sufficiently upon thework in hand, for the voice and gesture werethose of Barnes the bushranger. He hadrun him to earth at last!

As he heaved and strained at his task he

thought rapidly and now and again pausedto scrutinise the mate. He had arrangedwith Captain Saunders of the Albatross tolet him know if he had at last found Barnes.As soon as he received the signal the captainhad promised to inform the police and theman would be arrested.

As they worked Bob kept his eyes uponthe mate. The voice and form were thesame, but with the clean-shaven face Burton

could not be quite sure. He had the description of the outlaw by heart.

" Height six feet one inch. Broad-shouldered, slight limp, jet black hair,beard and,"—this was the crucial point—" a triangular scar upon the left forearm."

Try as he could he was unable to see if the man he suspected bore the tell-talemark.

For an hour or two thoy worked their

hardest, and then all the cargo for Rockhampton was landed. For the last half-hour the mate himself had been taking ahand in the work as the Warrago was to sailalmost at once.

As Bob approached him the mate puthis left hand to his head and removed hiscap. As he did so the sleeve fell back alittle way and Bob's quick eyes caught sightof the end of a livid scar. Quick as thoughtBob glanced towards the Albatross that layat the next berth. There, leaning over thestern, was Captain Saunders. At once

Bo b raised his right hand and rubbed theback of his neck. With a nod of comprehension the captain stepped quickly upon thequay. All this had happened within a short

time and the mate was still standing with hishand to his head when he caught sight of Bob's gaze still fastened upon his arm.With an oath he snatched at the sleeveand turned angrily upon Bob.

" What are you staring at ? " he cried andtook a step forward.

Bob remained cool." It's all right, Barnes," he said quietly.

" You'd best give in."

[ T H E E N D . ]

At the sound of his name the big fellow

aimed a smashing blow at Bob . With aquick spring the latter avoided it and closec.

with the desperado. He was no match fo rthe other, however, in point of size, andBarnes broke from him.

Bo b rushed in and seized him round thewaist. To and fro they struggled, themembers of the crew standing round inastonishment. At last the mate seized

Bo b by the throat and tried to choke him off.Quickly Bob slipped his two hands betweenhis assailant's wrists and drove them, wedge-

shaped, upwards. It was an old ju-jitsutrick and the bully's hands released theirhold. Then Bob dropped to the deck andtackled him low. With a quick jerk hedrew Barnes's legs from under him, and ashe fell the man's head struck a bollard uponthe deck and he lay still.

The fight had been sharp and furious andthe captain of the Warrago hurried forward.

" What's all this ? " he cried harshly,preparing to handle Burton.

Bob stood up."I t' s all right, sir," he said. " I ' m

Corporal Burton of the Queensland Police

and your mate's wanted. He's the notoriousbushranger, Big Barnes of the CharvilleDistrict."

" Phew ! " gasped the other, " and youtackled him single-handed ! Say, Corporal,but you've got sand!"

" Well," replied Bob, as a squad of policecame down the quay at the double, " yousee, when once we get on the trail we of the Queensland Police never let go ."

U n d e r t h e E d g e o f t h e E a r t h :

A Story of T h r e e C h u m s a n d a S t a r t l i n g Q u e s t .

By F. H. BOL TON ,

Author of " In the Heart of the Silent Sea*' etc.

E R V often thereare times when itwould be morethan convenient

to be able to throwaway one's personal

v i s i b i l i t y , and,vanishing into thinair, leave, like thebaseless fabric of a

rision, not a rack behind. Such a time hadundoubtedly come toHubert Kennedy when

he stood back in the darkest part of thebarge's store-cabin and held his breath, inthe wild hope of evading detection by theman in the doorway.

To say nothing of the earlier hostility of the man himself, and the signs he had given,on the occasion of their first meeting, of atemper far from affable, Kennedy felt with

justice that the odds were considerablyagainst him, even as things stood. Afterall, a bargeman's boat is bis home, andpresumably just as much his castle as thehomes of others who live in houses ashore ;and, coming to look at things in the light inwhich they were presenting themselves justnow with uncomfortable rapidity, it did seem fairly cool effrontery to screw the lock

off the door of a man's outhouse, on your

C H A P T E R X . — O S B O A R D T H E PRETTY POLL.

bare suspicion that he has a friend of yourssafely stowed away there. It was one of those awkward cases where success justifiedthe means taken to ensure it, but wherefailure made things a thousandfold moreawkward.

The young fellow, therefore, squeezedhimself as Hat as possible, and awaiteddevelopments in anything but a happyframe of mind. For a few seconds—long-stretched-out, intense seconds—he was indoubt as to whether he had been discovered,but as the man's eyes grew more used to thedarkness of the shed his first remark didmuch to dispel any real hope of escapingnotice.

" You can come out, 'ooever you are ;and quick about it, too ! "

Kennedy was on the point of obeying theinvitation when the thought Hashed acrosshim that perhaps it was after all only

a bluff. It was quite as likely as not thathe had not actually been seen, and therequest was only thrown out in a generalsort of way, just to try the effect. If hecould hold out another few seconds thefellow might move, and if he moved eitherinwards or outwards there would probablybe space enough to rush the doorway. Afterthat, he, Hubert Kennedy, was quite sureof his ability to clear safely. So he tried tohold his breath a little longer, and spent the

agonising time in hoping with all his mightfor a happy issue.

To little purpose, however, for the nextremark quite settled his doubts—settledalso his decision as to the course of actionmost desirable.

" If you thinks as I can't see you, you're just wrong, so I tell you. Come on out of it, and don't get a-shovin' up again' yonside, like as if you warn't theer ! '

The invitation was followed by immediateaction of a sort not looked for by Kennedy.True, the fellow came forward, as the ladhad hoped he would, but he had begun topull the door to behind him, a course whichdisconcerted Kennedy's plans at the outset.He resolved to put as bold a face as possibleon things.

" Hold on," he exclaimed, " I'm coming

all right, but I want what little bit of lightthere is left, to see my way."

The bargee laughed scornfully." I should 'a thought as you'd 'a been

able to find your way out reet enuff. Youknowed t' way in, seemin'ly ! "

To Kennedy's relief, however, he releasedhis hold upon the door, adding roughly, ashe pushed it open :

" I reckon I med as well have a look at youin t' light, mysel'."

The young fellow stepped forward with ashow of confidence he did not reallv feel.



558 The Boy's Otvn Taper.

" It was awful cheek, I'll admit," he said,as in airy frankness, hoping thus to disarmhis enemy. " But, the fact is, there was noone about, and—I got prowling round."

" Ay," snorted the other, " you would do!Nice sort o' prowling round, as you calls it,when a chap screws t' locks off t' doors, justfor curiosity like. Weel, I'm bothered ! "

Kennedy had stepped out into the remnants of daylight and the fellow caughtfull sight of him.

" Weel, I'll be bothered," he repeated,in increasing anger. " Yo u and me' s metafore, maister ! Now, what's t' meaning o'this ? Out with it ! "

He caught the boy by the collar andshook him as he might a child. Kennedydid not want for pluck—he had not run thepresent risk, had he been a weakling—buthe realised that a struggle in the well of thebarge, with no one to assist him, would bocertain to end in nothing but disaster, andmaybe even danger, for himself. Hetherefore contented himself with catchingat the man's wrists, more by way of expostulation than in the hope of forcing himoff, and gasping out his remonstrance ;

" Steady on ! give me a cha nce, man ! "

For reply he was flung forcibly downagainst the pile of stones, and, striking hishead somewhat heavily, lay for a fewmoments stunned and dazed. Fortunatelythe blow was not enough to do more thantemporarily incommode him, but it did that

most effectually, and served as a reminderof what might follow did he allow hisopponent to get a grip of him again. Fora little time he lay as he had fallen, and ashis scattered thoughts began once more tocollect he still remained motionless, thinkingthings over with what speed he could.

" Now then !" rasped the fellow, standing above him in a threatening manner," none o' that there shammin' ! "

His wits were not too dulled to detect adistinct tone of uneasiness in the voice, of which he determined to take full advantage.He therefore lay with eyes half closed,

awaiting the next move. The bargeman

stooped over and caught him by the shoulder ,giving him a shake.

" Ger up, you fool, and clear out! " hehissed ; " or see if I don't chuck you ovver-board."

He accompanied his words with a kick that more than hinted of a temper once

again rising to boiling point, and served toconvince Kennedy that a protracted passiveresistance was likely to become exceedinglypainful, if not even dangerous. He therefore scrambled to his feet.

" All right, " he said, as if recovering butslowly, " I'll be off," and he clambered upthe stones to the coaming of the barge.

From this point he felt more at ease.The plank connecting with the shore wasclose to his fe et; the light would probablybe good enough for another quarter-hour

to enable him to make his way in ease acros>it. An occasional passer-by on the bridgenot far away gave an added sense of security ;he would brave out the reason of his coming,and chance things.

" You're right about our having met before," he exclaimed, looking down towardsthe other: "that 's why I'm here again.One of the chaps that was with us last timehas disappeared : you know that wellenough ! "

" A y , 'appen I d o ! " was the answer.He had expected the man to flare up, andprobably make as if to renew his assault ;but, to his surprise, there was no show of anger now, only a scornful laugh.

'Appen I do, seeing as how yon t'otheryoung chap come to mo wi' questions ont' matter. And what then, maister ? "

" What then ? Well, where is. he ? 1believe you've had him on board, if youhaven't got him now."

" My ! That's a good un, too ! " the manlaughed. " It fair caps al l! Me got him,did you say ? And that'll be what's broughtyou pok in' and pushin' round here. Iheerd tell as theer were a big reward offered

for finding t' lad."" You've hit it ! " was the frank retort :

" except that / don't want any reward.And what's more, you haven't heard thelast of things, either. There's some jiggery-pokey business going on, I'll swear. Whatdid you want, carrying food to this end of the boat, this afternoon ? "

He shot out the question, hoping to takehis opponent by sudden and irrecoverablesurprise, but the man gave no visible signof being taken aback.

" You needn't st op to think," continuedKennedy sarcastically. His head was soreand his temper sorer ; moreover, he feltpretty secure, having edged off till his feetwere on the end of the plank by the wharf.

" Well," was the slow reply, " I don'tknow as I'm bound to give you reasons forall as I does ; but if you must know, I weregoing to feed t' dog."

It was Kennedy's turn to laugh.

" That won't go down," he sneered ;" there's no dog to feed."

" No, you fool ; not now there isn't. If theer had a' been, you wouldn't be so perky.Yon animal 'ud 'a knocked you ovver aforeyou'd had time to squeak for your mammy,if t' chap as he belonged to 'adn't took 'iniaway afore you corned."

" A likely story ! " was the ready retort." What should you want to be so carefulover an empty dog-hutch ? You wouldn'twant to lock that up after the beast was gone,

/ know."For reply the man gave another mockinglaugh.

" You're just a bit too smart, maister.Nobody but a young fool as thowt heknowed everything when he knowed a'mostnowt would 'a spent his time unscrewin' apadlock as weren't fastened—"

Kennedy started."W as n' t fas ten ed? " he faltered.

" Ay ! Weren 't fastened ! T' thing's abit stiffish, and don't oppen wi'out a deal o'pullin', and so you thowt as it were fixed.

You're a gey sharp un, you are ! But Itells you— "

He clambered up the stones as he spoke,and his temper appeared again to be rising.But Kenne dy had turned upon his heel andmade a quick move for shore and safety.

" I've made a fool of myself properly,this time," was his first thought, as he beata retreat under the friendly shades of oncoming night. "I'm jolly glad I camealone, as it happens. And yet, I don' tknow," he continued musingly, the whilehe clambered back over the yard wall to



{Specially painted for this paper by A R T H U R T W I D L E .

BUT TER FLI ES AND MOT HS OF THE TR OP IC AL FORESTS.O R N I T H O P T E R A P O S E I D O N , New Guinea.

O R N I T H O P T E R A O R C I. S U S , Batehian.U R A N I A R H I P H O U I S , Madagascar. O R N I T H O P T E R A P A R A D I S K A , New Guinea.



Under the Edge of the Earth. 559

the roadway. " I don't know. Thingsseem pretty queer to patch together. Ican't say I'm convinced yet that I'maltogether off the track."

While this fateful Wednesday was workingits string of excitement for Kennedy andcausing him to forget, for the time at least,the monotony of his usual life, Hector Branthad acted upon the urgent pleading of thatshort telegram from Morris, received late

the previous evening. Though quite at aloss to imagine why he in particular shouldbe wanted, he was not the kind of manto turn unheeding from an appeal forassistance. Perhaps he could only saycheery words, or inspire fresh courage by acheery presence: be that as it might," what I can do , I will" was his fixed

determination, and in that frame of mindhe had gone by the earliest train thatmorning to Burnbrae. Advised by wire,Morris had met him at the Burnbrae station.

" Mr Hutton's just about as down as hecan be, sir; and so are we all. It's aposer, a regular poser, and we're every oneof us at our wits' end. So I thought "

" So you thought," put in Mr. Brant with

a smile, " that one more would be a help,rather than add to the confusion, eh 1 "

" Not quite, sir, but— "He hesitated. It is not always as easy to

express your wants to the only person youimagine can meet them, when be is present,as it seems to be when he is not at hand.

" Morris," said the master in a serioustone, " I came because I couldn't stay awayafter your message. Don' t think, my boy,I'm not feeling what a terrible thing this is.It touches me deeply, and if I can help in

(To he

any way, rely on me to do so. But for thelife of me I don't see how I'm going to beof any real use."

Then Leonard, looking full into the faceof the man he so loyal ly admired, spoke outfrom his heart in simple frankness.

" Don' t you, sir ? Well, / do ! Why,it's been a help, just to shake hands withyou and hear you speak as you did justthen."

Brant turned his head aside. Suchoutspoken moments were rare, but, for allhis seeming reserve, they were precious tohim. He had not, perhaps, realised whatconfidence his boys had in him.

';

I'll do my best, my bo37

," he said. " I'lldo my best."

And in that spirit he met the father atGrayle Hall, spending the greater part of the day with him and Morris in discussingmatters, learning what had been done, andlearning too, to his surprise, what wasexpected of him by Morris.

" You seem, sir," explained Mr. Hutton," to have inspired the boys with a belief

in power possessed beyond the ordinary.They tell me a story of— "

For the moment Brant's face clouded." I know," he interrupted hastily. " Alittle flight of mine—a shot that happenedto go home—and ever after I am somethingalmost more than human to these foolishyoung shavers. I'm afraid you'll find I'monly a broken reed, after all ."

But the next moment he had regainedhis cheery manner.

" Your pardon, sir," he said, " I am notcome to act the croaker. I am here tohelp, and I will help, so far as in me lies."

continued.')

B U T T E R F L I E S A N D M O T H SO F

THE: T R O P I C A L F O R E S T S .By ARTHUR TWIDLE.

(See Coloured Plate presented with June Part.)

' ̂ ^^^^^^T r T

^ ^

companionshipwith the glorious Birds of Paradise of thisregion, will be found the home of whatmight be termed the kings and queens of the butterfly world, that is, the family of O R N I T H O P T E K A , or Bird-Wing Butterflies,the grandest group known to science.

Borneo, the land of the Dyak head-hunters ; Java, possibly the most beautifultropical island in the world ; Sumatra, thehaunt of the Orang-utan ; and the hundredand one smaller islands in this group, formthe happy hunting ground of the collector.New Guinea especially offers to the entomologist untold possibilities of new species,even at the present day.

Merely to mention the names of thesegrand islands is sufficient to stir the imagination of the collector with visions of theglorious insects reproduced in the Plate of Tropical Butterflies.

The great and brilliant green andblack O R N I T H O P T E R A P O S E I D O N is one of the

gems which illumine the gloomy depthsof many a tangled forest untrodden byman. The colouring harmonises so admirably with its surroundings that to someextent it must be a protection to the insectfrom possible foes.

There are distributed over the Archipelago,even as far as Australia, many varieties

of the large black and green butterflies;but the one selected will stand as the greattype of its class. The under side, instriking contrast to the upper, is beautifully marked, the colours being yellow

and bright green with dark markings,and as a finishing touch there is a patchof brilliant crimson on the body.

It is remarkable to note throughout thisgroup the range of colour, and how manyrich shades of green, orange and blue replaceone another in the various species. Theformation of the markings of each varietydiffers slightly according to the district fromwhich it comes ; but, speaking generally, allvarieties show well-marked similarities inthe way of general arrangement of colouringand in the bird-like contour of wing fromwhich the family derives its name.

The grand orange and black O R N I T H O P -

T E R A C E C E S U S was first captured and namedin the island of Batehian in 1859 by Dr.Alfred Russel Wallace, the veteran scientistand naturalist, to whom we are indebtedfor so much of our knowledge of these

insects. It is a rare delight to those in-terested in natural history to read in his" Malay Archipelago " the account of how-he captured his first specimen, watchingfor days near the spot where he first saw ituntil at length success crowned his efforts.He says:—" The beauty and brilliancyof this insect are indescribable, and nonebut a naturalist can understand the intenseexcitement I experienced when I at length

captured it. On taking it out of my netand opening the glorious wings, my heartbegan to beat violently, the blood rushedto m}

T

head, and I felt much more likefainting than I have done when in apprehension of immediate death." Any boy whocollects, and wishes to give himself a specialtreat, should read this book.

The butterflies depicted in the Plateareall males. The females of this and alliedspecies are larger than the males, withsubdued Colouring, generally dull brownwith white and yellow spots and markings.The spread of wing in the male measuresabout seven inches and in the female fromeight to nine inches.

It must not be taken for granted that

the tropical forests are teeming with thesefine insects; they are comparatively rareand are principally taken in the forestclearings and along watercourses.

An especially exquisite colour effect isobtained, in the case of the great greenbutterflies, by placing them between theobserver and the light from a window, andlooking along the wing, which then assumesa glowing red and gives a subtle and beautiful effect. What a sight to be rememberedmust the living insect be, seen under atropical sun !

With reference to the touch of crimsonon the body of P O S E I D O N , it is worthy of note that O R N I T H O P T E R A B R O O K E A N A hasalso a fine crimson marking in the form of a band round the neck like a cravat.

At the right-hand corner of the ColouredPlate is a representation of a very interestingform, O R N I T H O P T E R A P A R A D I S E A , the Paradise Butterfly, first discovered by HerrKubary. It has two fine tails and untila few years ago was a great rarity. Itwas while hunting for this species in themountainous regions of New Guinea thatthe German collector Carl von Hagner wasattacked by the cannibal Papuans and losthis life. The first specimens to reach Europerealised £25, a not uncommon figure forany fine new species of O R N I T H O P T E R A

when first introduced.

Before we leave the subject of the Bird-Wing Butterflies, I ought to mention thatof late years some magnificent new species

have been discovered — one named afterher late Majesty Queen Victor ia and anotherafter Queen Alexandra.

The species shown in the left-hand corner,U R A N I A R H I P H C E U S , is universally acknowledged to be the most beautiful moth in theworld. It is a native of Madagascar. Theutmost beauty of colouring has been lavishedon this glowing natural gem. The wholeof the colouring glistens with a metallicradiance and ranges from a delicate blue tobrilliant yellow, orange, crimson, green, andpurple. Some specimens have the purpleor violet patch more fully developed thanothers. The remarkable beauty of thelower wings demands a special reference,the numerous tails edged with white beingan exquisite feature.

A fair idea is gained of the size of thesegiant insects by placing a specimen of thecommon small white butterfly by the sideof the Plate for comparison. All the specimens are shown the natural size, with theexception of the tailed O R N I T H O P T E R A , whichhas been reduced.



560 The "Boy's Obvn Taper.

OURSCHOOL

P E W •

TO T H E

C L A S S R O O M

I--—

--

M E A S U R E D .

A T W O - F O O T rule was given to a labourer in a Clyde

ship-yard t o measure an iron plate. The labourer,

no t bein g well up to the use of the rule, after spen ding

a considerable time, returned.

*' Now, Mick," asked the plater, " what size is the

plate ? "

" "Well," replied Mick, with a grin of satisfaction,

" it's the length of you r rule, and two thumbs over,

with this brick and the breadth of my hand, and my

arm from here to there, bar a finger ! "

L E A R N E D A L E S S O N .

A VERY subdued-looking boy of about thirteen years,with a long scratch on his nose and an air of generaldejection, came to his teacher in a rural school an dhanded her a note before taking his seat. H e thenbecame deeply absorbed in his book.

The note read as follows:—

" Miss B.—Please excuse James for not being tliareyesterday. He played trooen t, but you don'tneed to lick him for it, as the boy he played troo entwith an ' him fell out , an' the b oy licked him, an*a man they checked caught him an' licked him,an' th e driver of a van they hun g on to lickedhim allso. Then his pa licked him, an' I hadto give him another for cheekin ' me for tellin'his pa, so you need not lick him until next time.I think he feels he better keep in school hereafter."

P R E C A U T I O N A R Y .

THERE was a trial for murder in Ireland in whichthe evidence was so palpably insufficient tltat th e

judge stopped the case and directed the jury to returna verdi ct of *' Not guilt y."

A well-kn own lawyer, howev er, who wished to dosomething for the fee he had received for the defence,claimed the privilege of addressing the c ourt.

" We'l l hear you with the greatest pleasure, Mr. B.,"said the accommodati ng judg e; " but, to preventacciden t, we'll first acquit the prisoner."

S E T T L E D T H E M A T T E R .

IT is not ev ery pr ophe t whose past performanceswill bear looking int o; consequently the following

little story, which is true, may prove of interest. Amonth ago a numb er of publ ic school boys weregathered together discussing the chances of a line dayon the morrow.

" Oh ," remarked one, with conv ictio n, " what' s theuse of hopin g ? It's goi ng to rain hard ! "

" I t doesn't look like it at present," remarked another.

" That ' s nothing t o do with it," was the rejoinder." The almanac says rain, and rain i t will! "

" Bother the old almanac 1 Wheuever did you findan almanac right t "

" Last Wedn esda y ! " respo nded the first speaker.

" Inde ed ! i never noticed it! "

'* That sh ows you know nothing abou t it," was thetriumphant retort. *' Didn' t the almana c foretella calamity for last Wednes day ? Didn 't we pl ay

B College, and did n't they rub it in to the tune

of nine goals to nil ? What d o yo u call that but a

calamity ? Take my word for it—it'll rain I "

" I T is the duty of every one of you to make at leastone person happ y during th e week ," said the well-meaning visitor in the drawing-r oom. " Hav e yo u ? "

*' I did," said Johnny prompt ly.

" T h a t ' s nice. Wha t did you do ? "" I went to see my aunt, and she's always happy

when I go home agai n."

M Y C H U M AND I.

HOW well I remembe r the da ys long ago,

Whe n I was a ki dd y of ten ;

My chum and I swore to be brothers, you know,

E'en when we'd grown up into men.

A life of adventur e t ogether we planned,

We'd take equal share of the gains ;

An d roam o'er the wide rolling prairies so grand—

The y called us " the pards of the pla ins."

The years slipped away, soon our schooldays were o'er,

Aside were our musty boo ks hurled ;

With hair-breadth escapes, explorations galore,

Our names would soon stagger the world.

W e' d sweep every pirate from off the wide seas—

"Out We st " we would scatter t he "b r a ve s"—

The long-buried treasure of Incas we'd seize,

An d cart it off hom e o'er the waves .

Th e last day arrived, we shook hands at the

And vowed in a week we would meet;

Ou r paters had other plans and—such is fate

W e failed or forgot. Time is

ileet—

I met him to- day, my old blood

thirsty chum,

He's meek, so am I, now we're

m e n ;

Great wealth he controls—in a

bank—a huge sum ;

/ drive—not wild steers—but a

pen I HAROLD HORNING.

F O R E A R M E D .

A SMALL boy who attends a district school was vaccinated recently,and after th e arm had been dressedthe attending physician suggestedthat he sh ould place a ribbon withthe word " Vaccinated " round it.

At this the youngster spoke up." But it round the other arm," hesaid.

" Bu t that w ron't do any good,"

proteste d the doct or. *' Jt wants tobe placed round the sore arm so thatthe boys at school won't be hurtingi t ."

The lad looked at him in disgustand replied : " Yo u put it roundthe other arm. Yo u don 't kno w thechaps at our school."

* * * *DRESSED in the latest and most

approved motor-cycling costumeand goggles, the motor-cyclist gailytoot -toot ed his way toward the Zoo .

Suddenly he dismounted and saidto a small, gru bb y urchin ; " I say,my bo y, am I right for the Zo o ? "

The b oy gasped at so strange asight, and th ought it must be somenew animal for the garden s.

" Yo u may be all right if theyhave a spare cag e," said he, doubtfully, " but y ou 'd stand u betterchance if you only had a tail."

:;iti-

NO W O N D E R .

FOR some time there has been in the Birmin gham

Art Gallery a picture entitled *' Save d," representing

a large Newfoundland dog standing over a child whom

it has rescued from the river.

On market days man y peopl e from the country find

their way to the picture-galler}-, and nearl y all ad mire

this life-like paint ing. One rather stout old lady,

evidently from Worcestershire by her accent, stood

<*azing at it for quite a long time, and as she turned

away to go , exclaimed—•

" N o won der the child fainted, after dragg ing the

big do g out of the water I "

E A S I L Y T O L D .

A N Irishwoman once had twin boys who looked

so much alike that people who knew the family often

wondered ho w their parents told them apart.After church one day the minister was admiring

the boys, who were then two years old.

" But, sister," was his object ion, " I don' t see

ho w you can tell them apart."" Ay ! " answered the mother proud ly. " Thot' s

aisy. I just whi p Mulligan, and if he cries, it's

Hooligan."

A Bad B eginn ing!

MR. FISHER (of the Lower Fou rth ): "W ha t d o you want, my lad,

and why don't you knock before entering ? "

V E R Y N E W B O Y : " Oh—er—ple ase, I wan t a locker, and the y told

me to come here and walk straight in, and they said I'd find an old man

called ' Fish bon es' who would give me one I '*

Documents

Boys Own Paper May 31, 1913