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Regardless of bushes and brush
heaps, they tear their way through,
but as they emerge the high bob sleigh
catches a root, and, with a crash, the
sleigh Is hurled In the air. Baptiste’s
cries ring out high and shrill as ever,
encouraging his team, and never cbnse
till, wij:h a plunge and a scramble, they
clear the brush heap lying at the
month of the ravine and are out on the
ice on tho river, with Baptiste standing
on the front bob, the box trailing be
hind and Sandy nowhere to be seen.
Three hundred yards of the course re
main. The bays, perfectly handled,
have gained at the bridge and in tho
descent to.the ice and are leading tho
citizens’ team by half a dozen lengths.
Behind both comes Baptiste. It is now
or never for tho pintos. The rattle of
the trailing box t together with the
.wild yelling of the crowd rushing
down the bonk, excites the bronchos
to madness, and, taking the bits in
their teeth, they do their first free run*
Ring that da£. Past the citizens’ team
like a whirlwind they dash, clear the
Intervening space and gain the flanks
of the bays. Can the bays hold them?
Over them leaus their driver, plying
for tho first time the hissing lash.
Only fifty yards more. Tho miners be
gin to yell. But Baptiste, waving his
lines high in ono hand, seizes his toque
with the other, whirls it about his head
and flings It with a fiercer yell than
ever at the bronchos. Like the burst
ing of a hurricane tho pintos leap for
ward and with a splendid rush cross
tho scratch, winners by their own
length.
There was a wild quarter of on hour.
Tho slmnty men had torn off tbelr
coats and were waving them wildly
and tossing them high, while tho
ranchers added to the uproor by emp
tying their revolvers into the air in a
way that made ono nervous.
When tho crowd was somewhat
quieted, Sandy’s stiff figure appeared,
slowly making toward them. A dozen
lumbermen ran to him, eagerly inquir
ing if he were hurt. But Sandy could
CHAPTER III.
WATERLOO—OUR FIGHT, HIS VICTORY.
HE sports were over, and there
remained still an hour to be
filled In before dinner. It
was an hour full of danger
to Craig’s hopes of victory, for the men
were wild with excitement and ready
for the most reckless means of “sling
ing their dust.” I could not but ad
mire tho skill with which Mr. Craig
caught their attention.
“Gentlemen,” he called out, "we’ve
forgotten the Judge of the great race.
Three cheers for Mr. Connor!”
Two of the shanty men picked me
up and hoisted mo on to their shoulders
while the cheers were given.
“Announco the Punch and Judy,”
he entreated me in a low voice.
I did so in a little speech and was
forthwith borne aloft through the street
to tho booth, followed by the whole
crowd, cheering like mad.
The excitement of the crowd caught
me, and for an hour I squeaked and
worked tho wires of the immortal and
unhappy family in a manner hitherto
unapprokohed, by me at least. I was
glad enough when Graeme came to tell
me to send the men in td* dinner. This
Mr. Punch did in the most gracious
manner, and again with cheers for Mr.
Punch's master they trooped tumultu
ously into the tent.
We had only begun when Baptiste
came in quietly, but hurriedly, and
whispered to me: ’
“M’Bieu Craig, he’s gone to Slavin’s
and would lak you and M’sieu Graeme
would follow queek. Sandy, he’B take
one leel drink up at de stable, and he’s
go mad lak one aiablo.”
I sent hitn for Graeme, who was pre
siding at dinner, and set off for Slavin’s
at a run. There I found Mr. Craig and
Nelson holding Sandy, more than half
drunk, back from Slavin, who, stripped
to the shirt, was coolly waiting with a
taunting smile.
“Let me go, Mr. Craig,” Sandy was
saying. “I am a good Presbyterian. Ho
. 1 > _ ,, „ is a papist thief, and he has my money,
only curse the little Frenchman for d x wlll have lt out of tho soul of
losing the race. < blm „
“Lost! Why, man, we’ve won it!” „ * t Drencher” sneered Sla-
oboutod a volco, at which Sandy’s rage Tln ewi Wm ott for Ton But
vanished, and ho allowed himself to ‘ , ° k !
bo carried la upon tho shoulders of his yo ' ,d better " ola Mm )f y<m want 1,18
admirers.
“Where’s the lad?” was his first ques
tion. ir
“The bronchos are off with him. He’s
down at the rapids like enough.”
“Let me go!” shouted Sandy, setting
off at a run in tho track of the sleigh.
He had not gone far before he met
Baptiste coming back with his team
foaming, the rngns going quietly, but
the bronchos dancing and eager to be
at it again.
“Voila! Bully boy! .Tank the bon
Dipu, Sandy. You not lceol, eh? Ah,
you aro one grand chevalier!” exclaim
ed Baptiste, hauling Sandy in nnd
thrusting the lines into his hands. And
so they came back, the sleighbox Bttll
dragging behind, the pintos executing
fantastic figures on.their hind legs and
Sandy holding them down. The little
Frenchman struck a dramatic attitude
and called out:
“Voila! What’s the matter wiz San
dy, heh?”
The roar that answered set the bron
chos off again plunging and kicking,
and only when Baptiste got them by first
the heads could they be induced to
stand long enough to allow Sandy to be
proclaimed winner of tho race. Sever
al of the lumbermen sprang into the
sleighbox with Sandy and Baptiste,
among them Keefe, followed by Nel
son, and the first part of the great day
.was over. Slavin could not understand
the new order of things. That a great
event like the four horse race should
not be followed by drinks all round
was bp him at once disgusting and in-
nSp
mug left on to him.”
“Let him go!” Keefe was shouting.
“Hands off!” Blaney was echoing.
I pushed my way in. “What’s up?” I
cried.
“Mr. Connor,” said Sandy solemnly,
“it is a gentleman you are, though your
name is against you, and I am a good
Presbyterian, and I can give you the
commandments and reasons annexed
to them, but yon’s,a thief, a papist
thief,/and I am Justified in getting my
money out of his soul.”
“But,” I remonstrated, “you won’t
get it in this way.”
“He has my money,” reiterated San
dy.
“He is a blank liar, and he’s afraid
to take it up,” said Slavin in a low, cool
tone.
With a roar Sandy broke away and
rushed at him, but without moving
from his tracks Slavin met him with
a straight left hander and laid him fiat.
“Hooray!” yelled Blaney. “Ireland
forever!” nnd, seizing the iron poker,
swung it around his head, crying,
“Back, or, by holy Moses, I’ll kill the
aan that interferes wid the
game!”
“Give lt to him!” Keefe said sav
agely.
Sandy rose slowly, gazing round stu
pidly.
“He don’t know what hit him,”
laughed Keefe.
This roused the highlander, and, say
ing, “I’ll settle you afterward, Mr,
Keefe,” he rushed in again at Slavin.
Again Slavin met him with his left,
Btnggered him and before he fell took
comprehensible, and, realizing his de- a step forward and delivered a terrific
feat for the moment, he fell into the right hand blow on his jaw. Poor San-
crowd and disappeared. But he left be
hind him his runners.* He had not yet
thrown up the game.
Mr. Craig meantime came to me and,
looking after Sandy in ,his sleigh, with
his frantic crowd of yelling admirers,
said in a gloomy voice:
“Poor Sandy! He is easily caught,
and Keefe has the devil’s cunning.”
“He won’t touch Slavin’s whisky to
day,” I answered confidently.
“There’ll be twenty bottles waiting
him in the stable,” he replied bitterly,
“and I can’t go following him up. He
won’t stand that. No man would. God
help us all!”
I could hardly* recognize myself, for
I found in my heart an earnest echo to
that prayer as I watched him go to
ward the crowd again, his face set in
Btrong determination. He looked like
the captain of a forlorn hope, and I)
was proud to be following him.
dy.went down in a heap ,amid the yells
of Blaney, Keefe and some others of
the gang.
I was in despair when in came Bap
tiste and Graeme.
One look at Sandy, and Baptiste tore
off his coat and cap, slammed them on
the floor, danced on them and with a
long drawn “Sap-r-r-r-rie!” rushed at
Slavin.
But Graeme caught him by the back
of the neck, saying, “Hold on, little
man,” and, turning to Slavin, pointed
to Sandy, who was reviving undei
Nelson’s care, and said, “What’s this
for?”
“Ask him,” said Slavin insolently.
“He knows.” »
“What is it, Nelson?”’
Nelson explained that Sandy, after
drinking some at the stable and a glass
at the, Black Rock hotel, h«d. Qpmc
aown here With Keere ana tne others,
had lost his money and was accusing
Slavin of robbing him.
“Did you furnish him with liquor?”
said Graeme sternly.
“It is none of your business,” re
plied Slavin, with an oath.
“I shall make it my business. It is
not the first time my men have lost
money In this saloon.”
“You lie!" said Slavin, with deliber
ate emphasis.
“Slavin,” said Graeme quietly, “it is
a pity you said that, because, unless
you apologize in one minute, I shall
make you sorry.”
“Apologize?” roared Slavin. “Apolo
gize to you?” calling him p. vile name.
Graeme grew white and said, even
more slowly:
“Now you’ll have to take it. No apol
ogy will do;” $
He slowly stripped off coat and vest.
Mr. Crnig interposed, begging
Graeme to let the matter pass.
“Surely it is not worth it.”
“Mr. Craig,” said Gpaeme, with an
easy smile, “yoU don’t understand. No
man can call me that name and walk
around Afterward feeling well.”
Then, turning to Slav-ln, he said:
“Now, if you want a minute’s rest I
can wait.”
Slavin, with a curse, bid him come.
“Blaney,” said Graeme sharply, “you
get back.” Blaney promptly stepped
back to Keefe’s side. “Nelson, you and
Baptiste can see that they stay there.”
The old man nodded and looked at
Crnig,'who simply said:
“Do the best you can.”
It was a good fight. Slavin had plen
ty of pluck and for a time forced the
fighting, Graeme guarding easily *and
tapping him aggravatingly about the
nose and eyes, drawing blood, but not
disabling him. Gradually there came
a look of fear into SJavin’s eyes, and
the beads stood upon his face. He had
met his master.
“Now, Slavin, you’re beginning to be
sorry, nnd I am going to show you
what you are made of.”
Graeme made one or two lightning
passes, struck Slavin one, two, three
terrific blows and laid him quite flat
and senseless.
- Keefe and Blaney both sprang for
ward, but there was a savage kind of
growl.
“Hold, there!” It was old man Nel
son, looking along a pistol barrel. “You
know me, Keefe,” he said. “You won’t
do any murder this time.”
Keefe turned green and yello\y and
staggered back, while Slavin slowly
rose to his feet
“Will you take some more?” said
Graeme. “You haven’t got much; but,
mind, I have stopped playing with you.
Put up your gun, Nelson. No one will
interfere now.”
Slavin hesitated, then rushed, but
Graeme stepped to meet him, and we
saw Slavin’s heels in the air as he fell
back upon his neck nnd shoulders and
lay still, with his toes quivering.
“Bou!” ye ( lled Baptiste. “Bully boy!
Dnt’s de bon stuff!- D.n-t’s larn him one
good lesson!” But Immediately he
shrieked, “Gnr-r-r-r-e a vous!”
He was too late, far there was a
crash of breaking glass, and Graeme
fell to the floor with a long, deep cut
on the side of his head. Keefe had
hurled a bottle with all too sure an
aim and had fled. I thought he was
dead, but we carried him out, and in a
few minutes he groaned, opened his
eyes and sank again into insensibility.
“Where can We take him?’* I cried.
“To my shack,” said Mr. Craig.
“ w Is there no place nearer?”
“Yes; Mrs. Mavor’s. I shall run on
to tell her.”
She met us at the door. I had in
mind te say -some words of apology,
but when I looked upon her face I fof
got my words, forgot my business at
her door, and stood simply looking.
“Come in. Bring him in. Please do
not wait,” she said, and her voice was
»weet and soft and firm.
We laid him in a large room at the
back of the shop over which Mrs. Ma-
vor IBred. Together we dressed the
wound, her firm white fingers skillful
as if with long training. Before the
dressing was finished I sent Craig off,
for the time had come for the magic
lantern in the church, and I knew how
critical the moment was in t our fight.
“Go,” I said. “HO is coming to, and
we do not need you.”
In a few moments more Graeme re
vived and, gazing about, asked:
“What’s all this about?” and then
recollecting, “Ah, that brute Keefe! 1
Then, seeing my anxious face, he said
carelessly: “Awful bore, isn’t it? Sor
ry to trouble you, old fellow.”
“You be hanged!” I said shortly, for
his old sweet smile was playing about
bis lips and was almost too much for
me. “Mrs. Mavor and I are in com
mand, and you must keep perfectly
still.”
“Mrs. Mavor?” he said in surprise.
She came forward, with a slight
flush on her face.
“I think yon know me, Mr. Graeme.”
“I have often seen you and wished to
know you, I am sorry to bring you this
\ trouble.”
“You must not say so,” she replied,
"but let me do all for you that I can
And now-the doctor say's you are to'lie
Btili.”
“The doctor? Oh, you mean Connor!
He is hardly there yet. You don’t know
eqch .other. Permit me to present Mr.
Connor, Mrs. Mavor.’’
.-AS* she DowfecLgngRtiy her eyes look
ed into mine with a serious gaze, not
inquiring, yet searching my soul. As I
looked into her eyes I forgot every
thing about me, and when I recalled
myself it seemed as if I had been away
in some far place. It was riot their col
or or their brightness. I do not yet
know their color, and I have often
looked into them, and they were not
bright, but they were clear, and one.
could look far down into them and in
their depths see a glowing, steady
light. As I went to get some drugs
from the Black Rock doctor I found
myself wondering about that far down
light and about her voice—how it could
get that sound from far away.
I forind trie doctor quite drunk, as In
deed Mr. Craig had warned, but his
drugs were good, and I got what 1
wanted and quickly returned.
While Graeme, slept Mrs. Mavor
made me tea. As the evening wore on
I told her the events of the day, dwell
ing admiringly upon Craig’s general
ship.
She smiled at this.
“He got me, too,” she said. “Nixon
was sent to me just before the sports,
and I don’t think lie will break down
today, and I am so thankful.” And her
eyes glowed.
“I am quite sure he won’t,” I thought
to myself, but I said no word.
After a long pause she went on, “1
have promised Mr. Craig to sing to
night If I am needed,” and then,, after
a moment’s hesitation,. “It is two years
since I have been able to sing—two
years,” she repeated “since,” and then
her brave voice trembled, “my husband
was killed.”
“I quite understand,” I said, having
no other word on my tongue.
“And,” she went on quietly, “I fear I
have been selfish. It is hard to sing
the same songs. We were very happy.
But the miners like to hear me sing,
and I think perhaps lt helps them to
feel less lonely and keeps them from
evil. I shall try tonight if I am needed.
Mr. Craig wlll not ask me unless he
must.”
I would have seen every miner and
lumberman in the place hideously
drunk before I would have asked her
to sing one song while her heart ached.
I wondered at Craig and said rather
angrily:
“He thinks only of those wretched
miners and shanty men of his.”
She looked at. me with wonder in her
eyes and said gently:
“And are they not Christ’s too?”
And I found no word to reply.
It was nearing 10 o’clock and I was
wondering how the fight was going on
and hoping that Mrs. Mavor would not
be needed when the door opened and
old man Nelson and Sandy, the latter
much battered nnd ashamed, came’ in
with the word for Mrs. Mavor.
“I wlll come,” she said simply. She
saw me preparing to accompany her
and asked, “Do you think you can
leave him?”
"He wlll do quite well in Nelson’s
care.”
“Then I am glad, for I must take my
little one with me. I did not put her to
bed in case I should need to go, and !•
may not leave her.”
We entered the church by the back
door and saw at once that even yet the
battle might easily be lost.
Some miners had just come from
Slavin’s, evidently bent on breaking
up the meeting in revenge for the col
lapse of the dance, which Slavin was
unable to enjoy, much less direct.
Craig was gallantly holding his ground,
finding it hard work to keep his men
in good humor and so prevent a fight,
for there were cries of “Put him out!
Put the beast out!” at a miner half
drunk and wholly outrageous.
The look of relief that came over his
face when Craig caught sight of us
told how anxious he had been and
reconciled me to Mrs. Mavor’s singing.
“Thank the good God!” he said, with
what came near being a sob. “I was
about to despair.”
He immediately walked to the front
and called out:
“Gentlemen, if you wish ( tt, Mrs. Ma
vor will sing.”
There was a dead silence. Some one
began to applaud, but a miner said
savagely:
“Stop that, you'fool!”
o Tliere was a delay of a few moments
when from the crowd a voice/called
out:
“Does Mrs. Mavor wish to Bing?”
followed by cries of “Aye, that’s it!”
Then Shaw, the foreman at the
mines, stood up in the audience and
said:
BjS continued.
THE SEMI-WEEKLY JOURNAL
OF ATLANTA, GA,
Wakeful Children.
For a long time the two year
old child of Mr. P. L. McPbersen,
59 N. Tenth St., Harrisburg, Pa.*
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Two bottles t>f these Tablets have
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Send direct to this office $2.00 and secure
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