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MAY 12. 1902. THE SUNNY SOUTH FIFTH TAGS 0 -••••••e-»-e‘*-e-*-e-*-e'*-e-»-e-*-a-i »e-*-e>*-e->-e-*-e-»-e-*-e-*-e-«-e. | Starvation Wages and Endless Hours 'P 'P For Laborers In Russia • *«'*•*§*«»•*«»•*•*•*•■*•*** i By FREDERIC J. HASKIN. Written for The SUNNY SOUTH HERE could be no better way of making the Amer ican laboring man app-— elate the fortunate cw tions that surround h a, than to bring to his notice the cheerless stato of the brt ad-winner in Russia. It j requires only the compari- | son of the hampered and* famished life of the one, with the privileged and prosperous existence of the other, to show that the yanltee toiler is extremely favored. A gentleman living in Moscow told me about having a dress suit made in that place. He gave the order to a tailoring linn, who furnished the material and sent it out to b? made in a Jewish family. Afterwards the tailor who made the suit told the owner that all he got for the work was 75 cents. I-Ie said further that by utilizing the whole time of his entire family he could earn only two or three dollars a week. The shoemaker in Russia has no shop, because he cannot afford to pay rent. The people think so little of having their footwear repaired that the artisan must get out where people can see him or he will attract no customers. So he wan ders about the streets, carrying his tools with him. The photographer has no difli- •ulty in getting a snap-shot of a way farer sitting barefooted on the sidewalk, with a co'obier near by in the act oi making ntcessary repairs. A few cents tay is ihe best return the itinerant may expect for his exposure in tramping endlessly through the dismal streets in all kinds of weather. LETTER OF FORT SUMPTER The Russian carpenter is a peculiar genius whose principal tool Is the ax. Al though his skill is confined mostly to this one implement, he is famous for his skill with it. As far back as the Philadelphia exposition the carpenters from the land of the czar created a sensation among other craftsmen, when they reported at the site where the Russian building was be constructed, with no tools other than axes. To the surprise of the on lookers they not only constructed the house in first-class style, but made beau tiful decorations which were almost lace like in their fineness. Yet skilled car penters in Russia earn only 75 cents a day. Electrical workers are not very expert because their industry was slow in getting a start in the country. When it was pro pose j to light the streets of the various •itics in Russia, the officials objected to the innovation. The mayor of Moscow op posed it by saying that those who wished to go about at night should carry lan terns. It is only recently that lights were placed In tihe great St. Isaac’s Cathedral at St. Petersburg. Formerly each wor shipper was supposed to bring his own candle to light him in and out of the holy edifice. BOILER MAKERS UNRELIABLE. It is commonly remarked that the em ployer of boiler makers who .would make any headway with his contracts ntusL ha\:e two sets of workmen, one to be on duty while the other gets drunk. The fact that the Russian so frequently in capacitated by drink is not so much due to heavy consumption, as to his inability to stand even moderate indulgence. The common drink is vodka, a white liquor much weaker than whisky. Though the average American could drink ten or twelve glasses of it, the Russian is so poorly fed that even a little of It makes l;im drunk. The manner in which the Russian fire men conduct themselves when, there 'is a conflagration is a good sample of the in capacity which Is general throughout the country Their equipment is little better than that of a bucket brigade, and they wear heavy metal caps which are sure to become heated if the wearer gets near the tire. They seldom get near the llames, however, but endeavor to preveiu their spread by pulling away filberts. They put in t'iie most of their time standing around smoking cigarettes, while the small boys of the neighborhood do the work. One of the best proofs of the debased condition of labor in Russia is afforded by tile swarms of hungry hack drivers m all the cities, in St. Petersburg alone there are over 12,000 public hacks, which a-i'e used during the summer months, while during tire winter over 20.000 sledges are at the disposal of fjhe public. The drivers of these are farmers who have to supple ment their labor in the countrv by work, ing a portion of each year in the city. It seems a iv*y that the honorable and independent calling of the agriculturist snouid be so depressed that its members cannot make a livelihood 'from it, and are forced to leave their homes for a portion of each year to do the work of metro politan menials, yet this is the case in Russia. LODGING AND COFFEE. There are several companies which em ploy these men, and the general rule Js uuat each driver must turn in SI.50 every night. Ail he takes in over that amount he may keep for himself. Any day* that he fails to turn In the stipu laved sum the shortage is enuered against him to be made upon succeeding days. The drivers are given a place to sleep, and are provided with coffee in the morn ing, but aside from this they have to huy ail tneir food. Those who manage to earn SI0 a month consider themselves in good luck. Although St. Petersburg has next to no street car service, there being noth ing .but a horse car line on the principal thoroughfare, opposition to the hack drivers is afforded by the Ice railways. There are three of these lines that oper ate across and up and down the river. Their concession is only for the winter. After six months of operation the cars are retired for the remainder of the year. The fare aaros -. the river on the ice rail way is only 1 cent, while the men who operate the sledges charge 2 1-2 cents for each passenger. The Russian peasant’s marvelous power Two Men and a of bearing extremes of heat and cold contributes lo his ability as a coach man. When one of them takes his mas ter or mistress out for the evening, be never thinks of seeking shelter and re turning for them at the appointed time .but sits patiently on his 'box hour after hour. Though the cold may be intense ■he is muffled in numerous layers of ap parel until he resembles the fat man in a side show. Because he can snooze so tranquilly when exposed to zero weather, he has been called a first cousin of Ihe polar bear. THE VILLAGE INDUSTRIES. There are 8.000.000 people employed in what is known as the village industries of Russia. This branch of labor was established partly on account of the long winters necessitating some occupation aside from outdoor work for the people of tine farm communities, and because it was contrary to their desire to leave home during the dull season. During the .primitive period of this economic de velopment the bead of each household would invest his surplus cash in a stock of raw material, which would be worked up by members of the family and dis posed of at a small profit to the bazaars The idea developed until the people or a whole village or district became spe cialists in the manufacture of some par ticular article. In the province of Vlad imir the Inhabitants of a number of vil lages live by painting ikons. In an other locality the residents of nineteen villages are exclusively employed in the manufacture of axes. Eighty villages turn out cutlery, and fully 200 commum- tics are engaged in making nails. Thi. range of the products produced in this way also includes household utensils, articles of pottery, leather goods, mat tings, toys and needlework. In one. of these villages an old woman will be the superintendent of a company of little girls, who are put to the task of spinning flax in a primitive wu>. S a manages the little laborers by reciting folk stories and reading s»ange tales from old books. In a nearby house some old man whose infirmities will not per mit of his doing 'physical lal>or. Will have change of a crowd of boys engaged in making wicker work. At intervals dur ing each day the little people arc given a recess the same as if they were in school. If the weather is too bad for them to romp out of doors, the'* are al lowed to sing and talk, especially if the character i'f the work tlhey ace doing does not require close attention. INCREASE OF POVERTY. The concentration of capital has greatly damaged the village industry in Russia, like it 'has crushed the small operator everywhere. The managers of the cooper ative enterprises found that they were forced to take less an d less for their toil until they became so poor that they could hardly reatlze the bare necessities of life. Every member of the household, from grandchild to grandmother, has to be do ing Something to contribute to the family income. Thus we find the strong mem bers of the family in a factory or at work in the city, while the old and young at tend to the farm. As soon as a boy gets to be sixteen or seventeen years of age, lie is forced to marry some strong girl so that there', will be another helper in the house. These marriages are often made without any pretense of affection, and result in immediate separation, the only advantage of the union being that the girl's labor goes to the household to which she has been joined. The art of cotton spinning and cotton weaving is an old institution in Russia. geneflations.'jt did not advance beyond the cottage Industry stage, the yarn being distributed among the peasants to be worked up in tlheir homes, but later it became modernized. In the time of Cath erine there were 120 cloth factories oper ating on a small scale. Ten of these were located in Moscow. In discussing the in dustrial conditions of that period a writer says: “One sees women of all ages from fourteen to sixty. All are attired In rags, and even the young girls have worn-out and prematurely wrinkled faces. They have had no childhood nor any youth. They bend over their stands eighteen Cobbler Working in Street. hours out of every twenty-four, and re ceive for their labor only $17.50 a year.’’ At the present time 83 per cent of the workers 5 n the textile trade are women. The scale of wages is larger now than w.hen the above was written, but they still get barely enough to Keep life in their bodies, it is not surprising that people who are impoverished to such an extent as this, should join in revolutionary schemes that promise to improve their lot. THE SLAV’S DAY OFF. In order to lighten the hard life of the poor classes the government maintains parks for their amusement in the sum mer time. These places are equipped with merry-go-rounds, shooting galleries, open air pantomimes, shows, music, tests of strength appliances, etc. There are 185 annual holidays in Russia, and on ach of these occasions the humble sub jects of the czar may be seen at the resorts standing stupidly around, munch ing sunflower seeds, playing accordions, i making as many as forty-five or fifty or drinking tea. The gramophone is a persons in one room. Such a condition source of never ending delight to them, may ‘be better imagined than described. I saw a stalwart muzhik peeking into; The poor mortals are huddled together the funnel of a machine with a puzzled, without privacy or convenience of any expi ession that did not reflect as much sort. The curses of a drunkard are min- inteliigenco as shown by the canine in j gied with the sobs of thie wife he is the well known advertisement called “his beating, a sick baby wails for want of masters voice.’ attenticn, and all the functions ,of life When the income of those engaged in are exposed to the plain view of who- villagc industries became so small that j ever chances to look into this nest of j they were, forced to take employment in j misery. “Home, Sweet Home’’ is indeed the enterprises that capital had devcl- a misnomer for the average factory oped, they were subjected to many' worker in Russia. : — + The Man in the Loft abuses which wrecked their health and destroyed their happiness. For instance, when the manufacture of lucifer matches began, the employees of the factory were made to work in close rooms and soon contracted an insidious and painful disease on account of the air being tainted with the fumes of phosphorus. Daws hare been enacted to protect fac tory workers, but the visitor to these es tablishments can still sec enough wretch edness in an hour to give hint the night mare for a month. Many of the employers feed and house their laborers on the same premises where they work. The food consists chiefly of thick soup and coarse bread. Frequently ten families will be lodged in one room no larger than an ordinary sleeping room. This will be divided into what are called corners. There will be a bed and a tiny strip of floor curtained off where will live a father, mother and two or three children. Each apartment contains ten or more of these corners. SHIPPED M mat SCALED WHISKEY PRE1 iSTiT’TriSffiuriTJSn nt It'aaud*byhonotMapl*hentetb* ■omtalM of three V. t» «Uwtjit — —' — K w— nds by ttr gtspltitbrn. IlHWrti wMmy imow RC Continued from First Page. straight. Det me tell you a story. It’s truth—the story of my own life, indeed.’’ There was a momentary silence, and then for the second time Enderby told the story of his downfall and disgrace, as he had told it on that never-to-be- forgotten summer evening in the hay loft in far-away England. ‘‘You got away?’’ Spencer asked, when Enderby finished." “Yes.” A light came into his eyes. “I’ll tell you that, too—what I never told another living soul, hut—'good heav ens! I have it. Your, voice! I heard it that very day!” He started for a minute at Spencer. “Do you know a place not 10 miles from the sea in South Dcvn where the moor ends, and a village lies hidden in trees and hay fields? I think they call it Dittle Cranlcigh.” Harry Spencer started from his chair. “Why, man, it's my home," he stam mered; “my governor’s the parson there. You don’t mean to say you know it?" “Listen. I got away—it was a hot August afternoon last year. I crawled Into a hay loft in some one’s yard and For an instant lie could not grasp the magnitude of these tidings; then his whole being was filled with thanksgiv ing. He could go back to Daphne at pnee. Their waiting was nearly over. By ANN ONNE. T was through the Instru mentality of Gilbert Lloyd that Fernle was outlawed and a warrant Issued for his arrest. There was clr- stantial evidence only to prove that he shot the surly old hutkeeper on RIppleford ou-tstatlon. who was known to be a man of no friends and many enemies, and who lived, according to local gossip. In constant terror of his life from a mate, on whom he had turned queen’s evidence years ago. But on that night Gilbert Lloyd’s Important ■mare had disappeared from the paddock at the outS'tatlon, and was known to be in the hands of the wild range dweller, who had l!ved on the possessions of his fellow men for so many years. There was much fo -prove I hat the hutkeeper had disturbed Fernie at his work, and had been shot In the back while running away to give the alarm. “Fernle might be a bushranger and dare-devil at ithe best, but he would nev er shoot an unarmed man In the back.” said his supporters In the district; hut they were a shady lot themselves, and Gilbert Lloyd, 'who had lately bought RIppleford. swore that he would rid Mis district of ithe outlaw, who seemed lo consider that a stray sheep or bullock was his due So long ns'it came from the rick folks' 'flock or herds. Gilbert was more than ever keen aho :t this matter because he fancied that to ■ accomplish It would give him a bet’e- | fooling among bis neighbors. Before h" I had come to the district he had breo j a society darling, and be was nnnoved ; to see that all his town accomplishments I were as naught In the eves of the silent, i sunburned young Irishmen, simply hc- i cause be couldn’t ride through timber. ! and was unlearned In bus hern ft. H<> | had _wooed and won the beauty of 'he 1 district, and he was unpleasantlv sur prised to see that she was commiserate! with Instead of congratulated upon bo- conquest. Now his chance had come to •do something which thev had failed 'o do. The stealing of his favorite mare had enraged him beyond expression, for Fernle had swaggered into the wayside inn bar the day before and asserted laughingly that the next time be took something from Rippleford It would be valuable. This was after Lloyd had failed to convict him of killing a sheep in he river paddocks: Its skin had been tanned and forwarded to him by a halfwitted black boy soon afterward. Now that chance had given his enemy Into lrs hands. Gilbert used all his energy and Influence to convict him. Black trackers had come up from Polnsettia. and a first- class detective. Fernle and his attend ant sprite—a young Dawson black follow —had been traced to a cave in the Bar rier range, and the police were draw ng a cordon round the place. It was an noying that upon the very night that the capture would be made Rose Western, his financee. and his sister, Maude Lloyd, should choose to arrive by coach at the bush town. The capture of Fer nie would rouse It to fever heat, and the girls were safest and best at Rippleford. There was no one to escort them there but Lloyd himself. a.nd it was with a feeling of annoyance that he made the necessary arrangements to drive out with them in the chill of a spring dawning from the bush hotel, where the attend ants scowled uncomfortably at him, and the rough servant girl refused to wait upon him, a,nd openly gave her opinion of his character to the grinning black woman in the kitchen. To add to his worries. Ben Johnson, the driver, was usually drunk. He climbed to his high seat on the station t'rap. with cheerful remarks that he “hoped the ladies would ’skuse him. but a gentleman had to .drink when othe. gent^imen shouted for him.” Rose and Maude (a schoolgirl just grown up, and in her first long frock) were rather nei- vous. , . “Had you not better take the reins, Gilbert?" said Rose, in a low voice. Gilbert could no more drive four horses than he could fly, and he assured the girls that Ben, though drunk, could drive far better than the average man sober; and he was right to a certain extent While in the cheerful stage Bon could drive, and Rosa was so delighted at seeing the road which led to her old liome-for it was from the Westerns that Gilbert had bought Rippleford—that New Hair Remedy Hair, Restores Gray or Faded Hair To Natural Color. Never Falls To Grow New Hair. A $1.00 Package Mailed Free to Prove It Does All we Claim For it. Costs Absolutely Nothing to Try. your while If you will drive us to Ripple ford; my man is useless, as you see.” “Yes, I was Just about to offer. I'm camped by Scrubby Creek, half a mile j Q U { C Kly Cures Dandruff. Stops Falling back, but my mate will look after things. You don’t drive yourself?” “What does it matter to you whether I drive or not? I don’t choose to. You will be well paid to do it, my man,” he added mor e genially, as lie noticed the stranger’s eyes flash at the first part of his sentence. “Yes. I shall be well paid,'* said the man, reflectively; “well, all aboard; your leaders have bad too much corn to be patient while we argue.” And he turned to help Rose Into the trap, and then got In himself. “Thought I’d catch my horse and go to see the fun with the police and Fernle.’’ he volunteered, as he cracked the whip and whistled to the team. "Heard the little miss scream, and so followed your tracks, and here I atn." “I hope they won’t find him,” said Miss Western. “I saw Fernle once when I was a little girl; he was the handsomest boy one could see. He was living with his adopted people at Nerenby then, before they quarreled and he ran away.” Gilbert turned away so that Rose should not see his face, for the passion of jeal ousy had transformed it terribly. That was the key to Lloyd's character, the voice which swamped all his finer feelings, and which mastered him completely. A year ago Rose had spoken to him of Fer nie. and had used the same words, add ing. “I would love to meet him again. His life has been so romantic, if one can be lieve all one hears; and lie is so very handsome—a idtal man.” Gilbert had not forgotten or forgotten ■her words. “Look!" whispered Maude; “it seems to me that our new driver is quite too lovely for anything. Watcii when the wind lifts up his awful old hat brim. Now he is handsome. Quite puts voti-r ideal Fernie into the shade. Rose." “Rose’s ideal Fer nie is a cowardly murderer,'' said Gilbert, coldly. "Perhaps because T am a mere man T fail to see the beauty of that char acter.” “Was that ever proved, Gilbert?” said Ro=e. “One cannot reconcile it at all with what one lins always heard of Fernie Ericson. r admit he leads a terrible life, hut I do not think he would shoot an unarmed man.' 1 "Well, we Shall see. You.r ideal will swing in a Sydney jail before the year is out; ihe chain of evidence is too strong for him, and the crown is doing a good work in ridding the district of a scoun drel.” The Above Illustration Plainly Shows What Foso Has Hone For Others. It Will Do As Much for you. Try a )S i.Ot) Package. It's Free. Men whose hair or beards are straggling or all gone, women whose tresses have been thinned by fever or hair falling out, requiring Rose turned 'pale. “How awful!” she , the use of switches; little children, boys and girls whose hair is coarse and unruly; all find in this great remedy just the relief that they want. Foso grows hair on bald heads, thickens eyebrows and lengthens eyelashes, restores gray or faded hair to its natural color, prevents thin hair, stops itching, cures dandruff, scurf of scalp, pimples, and makes the hair of any man, woman or child long, heavy, silky and beautifully glossy. Fill out free coupon and mail today. fell asleep. When I woke up two people ... _ _ were sitting in the entrance to the loft;!* 01 ^5? Margaret Penrose, will talking—a e ! rl and -i man I lav law I be w,th l,s - s, ' e thinks you knew her talking a g.rl ana a man. I lay low | , uar , y years ago. and may like to renew till the man went—to join some chil- yoim old acquaintance/* dren's game, I gathered—then I ventured; Margaret Penrose! Margaret—the wom- to look out. The girl saw me. She was | an he had loved and lost; it was incredi- Knderhy saw him off a few days later, hut refused all his pleadings to go back to England. “My dear fellow, you forget I'm only an escaped prisoner; but will you tell Miss Ward I've kept my promise to her? Sho'll know what I mean.” „„ “1 can tell her more than that. I I s ne soon forgot her fears. Maude was can tell her that you saved me—body and soul,” said Harry Spencer. “What ever debt you owed her, Enderby, you've paid off. Good-by, we'll meet again some day, old fellow.” Enderby smiled and watched the train out of sight. Then he went hack to his lonely, but not unhappy, life. Three years after Harry Spencer's departure for England a letter came from hint saying that he and his wife were ar riving shortly in that colony on a tour. They both hoped to meet their old friend, Richard Enderby, again, and would be with him almost as soon as this letter which was to announce their coming. There was a postscript that made the man’s heart almost stand still with wonder and joy. "My wife desires me to tell you that more of an angel than any other woman I ever met—save one. She listened to my story, got me food and drink, proin. ised to help me. I hid again. She spoke to some one outside—the man who had been with her. Later she brought me an old suit 'of clothes he had given her. She gat me away in her pony carriage, and I escaped 'in safety to this country. But—'I heard your voice that day, I am sure. And the name of my deliverer was Daphne Ward.” blefi impossible, that happiness was to come to him at last—with her. He had never heard of her; he had imagined her to be dead or married—gone out of his ken altogether. And here—she was com ing to him, with the woman who had saved him from despair! Richard Enderby never knew how he endured that day and the next. On the third after his receipt of the letter Harry Spencer and Ills wife and friend arrived, and Enderby almost reluctantly went to the hotel at once to see them. He found . . , both Harry and his wife radiant with The other uttered a cry of amazement -happiness «nd health, but almost to his as a hundred lights burst upon him. relief they received hire alone. He glanced Now he knew why she had wanted that round the room, but Margaret was not old suit. I there. He feared, and yet longed, to meet “Why, man,” he said, "Daphne Ward; b .? r: but , he stifled bis feelings while is my future wife. It was mv suit she I Har . r Y arK ? Daphine talj-d. Then Harry r ... , .. . ..'vanished for some reason, and his wife gave ^ you. I was with her that vei> j followed suit a few minutes later, say- day -’ | ing that she would send. Margaret Pen- There was a short silence. Then Har-1 rose—her dear friend and companion—to ry Spencer held out his hand. j him, and would he be kind enough to “We’re friends from this onward,” he entertain her for half an hour, while said, a little husky; "aren’t we, Ender-; s * le and Harry did some unpacking? It jj..,., was a thin, transparent excuse, the man Thev shook hands sllentlv and then saw ’ but U served - and he smiled an un- They shook hands silently, and tnen accustomed smile as he f ound himself Harry left. alone waiting—waiting for Margaret. Two letters were lying on Harry Spen-1 When she came in he felt as if the cer’s table when he got back to his j past seven years fell from him like an far too young and enthusiastic to worry, and rather enjoyed the sharp turns and swerves of tlir big station wagonette. Although she may not have realized it. it was a great deal for the sake of Rippleford that Rose had accepted Gil bert Lloyd, and siic had enjoyed the congratulations of hir Sydney friends and the kudos that society gives to tne girl who is making a good match. Gil bert was goo d looking, too, in a small, fair, dapper style, and Miss Western felt , at peace with the world as they flew along the red scrub road, with the glori ous scents of the forest around them and the freshness of the spring dawn to fill their young hearts with the wine and joy of living. And Gilbert, gazing at the sweet, interesting face of his be loved, was fain to be content also, for Rose was very pretty, with her wavy _ . flaxen hair and dark eyes and brows and, in spite of Maude's cries and Rose s said. “Suppose he did not do it? Gilbert laughed. -‘He will hang for it, anuyway,” he said. “I. for one, am fuiiy convinced of 'his guilt.” “I’ve not too much time," said the driver, suddenly turning the horses into the scrub; “there’s a good short cut to Rippleford this way.” There certainly was a sort of path, but so. overgrown that t'he girls had to bend this way and that to escape the sandal wood boughs; and Rose was about to re monstrate when the horses were brought to a standstill and the driver turned on his seal so that he faced them. “Now. hands up, all of you!’* he said, cheerfully. “Fernie is not caught yet. you see.” And he whipped a revolver from his shirt: and covered Gilbert neatly. “I don ’t wish to hurt either of you ladies.” he added; “but neither of you must move, or try to call for help. My black fellow is behind us and he will watch you.” With one accord the terrified girls look ed behind. les, there against the trunk * anda,woo d stood a tall and rather villainous-looking aboriginal. He was also armed, and the restless stamping of tethered horses could be heard now and then from the scrub on the right “Down you get, Lloyd! And make no uss about it. You can keep your hands steady by handing- over those notes you got at the bank this morning. Be quick or I 11 shoot. If I'm to swing for cer tain, it's going to be on a true charge anyway.” Frag SI.OO Packi"e Coupon Fill in your name and address on blank lines below, cut out the coupon and mail to J. F. Stokes. Mgr.. 5610 Foso Bldg.. Cincinnati. Ohio, and a full sized $1.00 package will be sent you by first mail free, all charges prepaid. yon will stand those six blows rather than let this happen. I know that lie will keep his word, and I would rea'lly rather die than give him what he asks. Don't let him kiss me. Gilbert; don’t.” “Really, Rose,” said Lloyd, fretf'uliy, “you have very little feeling and very little love for me if—let—us end this wretched affair, if possible—the ropes are cutting my shoulders in ipieces—you are very heartless—Rose.” The girl looked round wildly. “Maude.” she cried “can't you wake Johnson? Is pul , . he dead or what, that he does not Gilbert turned white, but his especial help us?” “Johnson was drugged pretty success fully, and won’t wake up for some hours vet. No, Miss Rose, your only hope of escirpe is from your brave lover. Speak up, Lloyd; say you will take your lick ing like a man, and let the girl off. “Gilbert, don't—don't let him have the satisfaction of being able to say that vou let him kiss me to save yourself from a little pain.” said the girl again. She was pleading more for h'*r ideal than for herself, but Gilbert’s eyes did not meet hers. “Don't be a fool. Rose.” he said. Do you think 1 want the brute to touch you? It would hurt me more than it hurt you; but you arc not the girl that I take you for if you allow a nigger to strike the man you arc going to marry soon.” ••Oh, very well." said Rose, with a -ardness in her voice a determination in her violet eyes. She raised he r face to the eager, sun-browned one. and did not resist when Fernie drew her gently toward him, so closely that her flaxen hair touched his rough blue linen shirt, but when he stooped to kits her cheek she gave her lips instead, and flushed rose-red a't his warm embrace. Gilbert saw it all, and turned as white as she was roseate. . , “And now you must go. Forme. said, the girl; “take your horses and seek safety. " ' " ^ clue he knew that her love and hope had | and Gilbert's excited shouts, and quarters. One in Daphne’s handwriting brought the iblood to his face. If En derby had not intervened, what might not his downfall have been? For her dear sake he wold never touch a card again—heaven helping him. He put that letter aside to enjoy at his leisure, and tore the other open. Its contents dazed him. There was no pretense about this letter from the lawyers in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, who wrote to acquaint him of his uncle’s death, and the fact that the old man had bequeathed the greater part of his vast wealth to his beloved nephew, j to.' Harry Spencer. The lawyers further 1 “Fan you forgive, Margaret, all the added that they would be glad to see suffering and shame I caused you? All Mr. Spencer when he could make It cou- J the—" veriient to come home, and that it was j “Why, you were forgiven long ago. his uncle’s earnest hope that his heir Dick,” she said, softly, “but the present would reside on the family estates Inland future must be nr.rren to me If 1 Devonshire. (may not spend them with you.” old garment. His youth and his love came back in a great surging flood, and as he looked ipto her sweet, grave eyes giving character to her creamy-tinted countenance, for her beauty was such that no man once realizing it ever for- sandalwood^ Rose had tried to shout for that no ..t-rtiim nuite aiiart 1,p] P* bl,t Fernie threatened to shrlbt ner got her, owning an attraction quite apa i ]over , f 8he djd go and rnoreovfa . > ha!d fear was not firearms just then. Perhaps he knew he would not toe shot before tho girls. Rose's cheeks colored faitnly as she heard his defiant answer: "Shoot, then, and take the notes; I’m not going to give them to you.” Gilbert, dear! Give him the money,” she cried; “it is nothing besides our lives. You coward!” she added, turning toward the handsome,threatening face. "So you do shoot unarmed men, after all.” Fernie s face flushed. “Every man shoots vermin at sight,” he retorted. “That man has given his time and money to hounding me down. I admit he began the chase In good faith, but I know, and you will know, too, some uay, that a week ago he received the clew to the real murderer; he alone knows of it beside myself, but he suppressed it, and I can prove it. Shall I prove Tf, Gilbert Lloyd, and break a good wom an's belief in you?" Gilbert did not answer, but Fernie saw the look of agony in his eyes. "Do you expect me to believe that?” said Rose scornfully. "There would have to be proof indeed before the world would take the word of an outlaw.” "Well, you may be right. Miss West ern. I shall be glad to let him off with a lighter punishment for your sake, and the good words you spoke for Fernie Ericson this morning. Here” (he shout- - . , ,, )Q — ed to the nigger), "bring the rope and i man humbly. 1 ve been - a ’ iru h l nth ’“ tie this ’gentleman' to .that sandalwood, >’°'i and yours todav b ° and be quick about it.” about putting things straight, the police The black was a Hersules in strength, k r W „ r !," e f r ^ ™„ T shfu be gfad nd, in spite of Maude’s cries and Roses! ^"hnut \\nrd. fion' > 1 - ^ bitter words Gilbert was dragged from^Jnowthat yo- fa h isjustffled when the wagonette and securely tied to thej >™ r ” a ' d e ™ n as \ t wi i; , )e directly. }-Iere, you black daisy! untie that rope and bring up the horses," he added y. The police shall have that other ,.uv tonight; you escape by some seef-t entrance to the Limestone Craig, t S“P- ipose; at any rate, the way is open be fore you now.” “Thank you; Miss Western,” said the from beauty of feature after all. Suddenly, without a word of warning, Ben Johnson collapsed in a heap on the floor of the trap, and Gilbert sprang to his feet and seized the reins. “You brute!” he said, as he strove to get the leaders in hand. “You can take your check and walk for this.” But a loud snore was his only answer. “Don’t drag them back like that, Gil bert. Ste, you are pulling the leaders separate ways," cried Rose, rising to her feet; “and you haven't got the other two reins at all.” Gilbert grew crimson with rage. The horses seemed to him to be all trying to back" into the trap at once, and to add to the confusion Maude began to scream. With an exclamation of fear Miss Western tried to clamber over the seat to reach the tangled reins. Being a bush girl, she saw the extent of the danger, and she realized at once that Gilbert was helpless. “Can I be of any use?” The calm, full voice rang above the confused sounds of snapping harnes never quito died during those years of silence and starvation of heart. There was room for happiness yet. "Margaret!” he sale?, hoarsely. “Mar garet—I can’t believe that it is really you. I never forgot—nor could you. I thlr.k—what were were to each other long ago. before—before—” “Hush! Don’t let us speak of the past. That is all over and dov; with; there is only the present and t«e future to look to Rose Western the very- notes of It brought relief. There was a man on the road; he had materialized from empty space or from the pine* poles round about. She did not stop to argue from whence he came; that he understood horses she knew at once when he went to the scared lead ers' heads and quieted them gently.’ In a few seconds the contusion ceased, and giving Gilbert the reins to hold, she sprang to the ground to help the stranger repair a broken swingle-bar. “My good fellow,” said Gilbert, noting the man’s rough bush turnout of mole- akin and leggings, 'V will make it worth i, ' her arm securely while he gave directions to the grinning black fellow to cut a couple of knoTt.v myall 'boughs into cruel looking switches. “I’m going to thrash the truth out of roughly. A few minutes more and Rose heard the pound of their horses' hoofs ringing fainter and ;ainter down the rough scrub road. Gilbert was busily shaking) Ben Johnson into sensibility. “Como. come. Rose.” 1 “”' he said loudly. this dandy lover of vours. Miss West-! but uneasily. "Cheer up. dear heart, ern,” ho said. “You are too good for his j We’ve had a bad . adventure, but have kind, and he’ll tell the truth about the! won through safely, thanks to you.” real clew fast enough when the nigger Rose did not answer save by a look, and lays the lash on.’ “For God’s sake, man, don’t,” cried Gilbert. ‘'Rose. Rose, stop him; I could not stand it. My God! I shall die!” he shrieked, overcome with the terror of his position. “No, rest assured you won’t die; but I’m going to bring you pretty near it. The man who would send an Innocent fellow creature to certain death for a spite alone itsn’t worth killing. Get to work.” he finished, turning to the black, who drew the stick through the air, and brought it down on Gilbert’s shoulders with a stinging swish. Rose turned sick and faint, and Fernie felt her away. “Stop!” he shouted, and the nigger let the stick fall. “Look here. Miss West ern. I’ll let your fine Tover off o*i one condition. Will you both agree?”' Rose pulled herself together, eagerly scanning the dark face above her. “What is it?" she said. “He shall give all the money he has; you can have my rings, my watch—everything.” "No; I want something from you more precious. I want you to kiss me—only once.” “How dare you?” cried the girl, striv ing to break from his hold. “No! I should rather die first, far rather, and so would Gilbert. You have promised uot to kill him, and you won’t break your word,” she added hastily. word sometimes? No. I won’t kill him and our friend here will let him off with six more ‘lashes’ (ft most. If you refuse to give me the kiss, which will let him off altogether." “Tall kilo, Gilbert," cried the girl, "that k his lown eyes 'fell before her gaze. Verily Fernie. the lshmaei. had taken something worth stealing from his ene my this tfmo—nothing more or less than a girl’s pure faith. CHEAP COLONIST RATES To OREGON. WASHINGTON, MONTANA. BRITISH COLUMBIA. NEVADA. UTAH. WYOMING. NEW MEXICO. ARIZONA. COLORADO And CALIFORNIA POINTS. ur woru, »ne auucu nwinji. _ w/irrm. “Oh! so vou have faith in an outlaw's Round Trip HOME-SEEKERS EXCDw SION to many points West. Drop postal card for particulars. F. W. GREEN. D. P. A. .Wahasb & Mm LewtorUK, Slk