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LEFT ALONE;
OR,
The Adventures of Ben and Nancy.
CHAPTER IX.
When Ben and Nancy reached Glen
'i'ic next day and called at the bank
- bunker said:
So you children have come again?
•as wondering what had become of
>. Have you got as much as SSO
deposit this time?”
\Ye have $275," replied Ben rather
. oudly.
“Well, welll Tou must have found
another traveling bag on the bottom
of the lake. There are plenty of peo
ple in Glenville who call you lucky, j
but none of them begrudge you. In
deed, all are your friends.”
"Ben told him about the trip to
Shelter Bay for the tug. and the gen
erous present made him by Mr. Rud
derman, and the banker said:
"Yes, it was a nice present, but you
deserve every dollar of it. I am sor
ry to tell you that while Mr. Scott has
returned from Europe, he is away
Just now. He has gone to Saginaw
to purchase a steam yacht a man there
has for sale, and Is not expected back
for a week. I hope you will make an
effort to see him then, as he has
spoken of vou both several times, and
wants to have a talk. I may tell you
that he has taken an interest in you.
and something pretty good is sure to j
come out of it. Will you try and be
here a week from to-day to see him?
He will take you right to his house,
and you must come expecting to stay
all night.”
Ben and Nancy promised, but they
were to see Mr. Scott before the next
Saturday, and that without going to
Glenville either. The month of May
was ushered in by high winds, and
for three days the fishing had to be
“Ben, there l a ateam yacht coming down the lake.”
suspended. Ben did not fear to take
the boat out unless the wind was
blowing a hurricane, but as a fisher
man he knew that the fish would not
bite when the waters were greatly dis
turbed. At such times the fish hunt
the deep holes and lie quiet, as if fear
ing the storm. On the fourth day, as
the wind had moderated to a gentle
breeze, the children provisioned their
boat and started out. and up to noon
all went well with them. Then Ben,
wno had learned to read the weather
like an old sailor, said:
“Sister, I almost wish we had not
come out to-day. You see how it is
banking up in the west. We are sure
ly going to have another blow, and
we shall be lucky to get home without
wet jackets. I think we had better get
under way at once.”
It happened that Nancy was catch
ing the most and the largest fish that
day, and being proud of the fact, she
did not want to pull in her lines. Ben
was a bit worried, but he gave way
to her and hung on so long that the
rising gale finally came down on them
with a long wail. The lines were hur
riedly pulled in, a reef taken in the
sail, and the boat went dashing away.
Not in the direction of home, how
Dillydoll and Japlittle
THEIR MISDEEDS.
Clubcllb and Clibciub simply
oouldn't stand it any longer after a
while. They arose to their flat
wooden feet and fell on Grandpa Jack
fiprlngbang with fury.
If you will look at the picture you
will see the fury In their faces.
Grandpa Jack Hprliigbang struck
back at them. One! Two! Three!
Koch time he hit them, and each time
It sounded EXACTLY us If some
thing hud been hit by something else
and hurt very badly indeed.
Bn it was. Every time, One! Two!
Thr——thst Grandpa Jack Hprlng
bang struck dubcllb and Clibciub, ha
hurt them away and away down
through their Hue wooden heads and
Into their very glue!
Hut they were bruve aa brave could
ha,
“We are of the finest whit* wood'"
gaaged they. "We are also painted
with the heat Pruoatsn blue! W* wilt
a*var give up l "
then they would tali mi Grandpa
, ever. The wind blew dead against
j them, carrying them out and up the
; lake, and they soon found the waves
| heavier than any they had eger en
countered before. When the fierce
■ gusts came it seemed as if the boat
| was lifted clear out of water, and Ben
had to give his whole attention to
steering to prevent the seas from fill
ing the boat. They had been running
before the wind for an hour, neither
of them speaking, and Nancy looking
out ahead, when she suddenly turned
and said:
"Ben. there is a steam yacht coming
down the lake in the teeth of this
gale, or trying to. I guess she is a
private yacht, and she is having a
hard time of it. She is rolling about
like a log. and the seas are breaking
clean over her. Give me the tiller and
you see what you can make out."
“Yes, she is certainly in a bad way,"
replied Ben after a brief look. "She
is not strong enough to meet these
heavy seas, and they are already
pounding her upper works to pieces.
That yacht won t float an hour longer.
See—they are flying a signal of dis
tress!”
“Oh. Ben, that may be the yacht
Mr. Scott is bringing down from
Saginaw, and he may be aboard of
her!”
"It may' be so, and we shall run
alongside of her. I don’t see how we
ran help her \vi:h such a storm raging,
but we will do our best.”
It was the yacht Mr. Scott had
bought, and thinking the weather
would be fine he was aboard of her
himself. The children saw and recog
nized him as the two craft came
■ loser, and he also knew them and
waved his hand. It was plain to Ben
that the yacht would soon pound to
pieces, but he determined to take
every chance to save the people
aboard. To tell you how he managed
his boat and how bravely Nancy aided
him, and how at last every man was
taken off the yacht and she was left
to sink, would almost make another
story of itself. It was all written up
for the Detroit papers at the time, and
doubtless many of you read the thrill
ing account.
I have only to tell you that after
being out in the gale for several
hours Ben ran his boat into a harbor
and all came safely to shore. Mr.
Scott insisted that the boat be left
there for someone else to sail back
and that the children accompany him
home to Glenville by train. This
they did. and that long-promised talk
came off, and as a result the home in
the woods was abandoned for one in
a town. To-day Ben Brady is pre
paring himself for Harvard and his
sister Nancy for Vassar, and they are
not troubled about their future. They
have friends by the score, but Mr. and
Mrs. Scott are as father and mother
to them, and so my story ends with
leaving them in safe hands and with
no further adventures or hardships to
encounter.
(THE END.)
Jack Sprlngbang again and pound him
like everything.
"Hooray!” said Dillydoll.
"Bully!” said Japlittle, who had
picked up a great deal of slang in the
ark.
At la*t old Grandpa Jack Spring
bang grew a little weary and his flue
spring steel legs grew kind of tottery.
That was Clubcllb and Clibclub's op
portunity!
They seized Grandpa Jack and
pushed and liaulcd and shoved and
dragged him to ths Jail.
"He Is u very bad old man." said
| Clubcllb. giving him s Anal shove.
"lie is a verv rough customer,"
•aid clibciub, billing him otic* mors
I very hard for good measure.
And Dillydoll and Jo pi II tie, who
Wer* responsible for the whots thing.
Just stood liter* and were pleased *ll
over. Itut their punishment was on
I the way!
I However, they did not know It then.
| No. They were so glad and merry
tiurf they Just laughed it shaba ha halts:
SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. DECEMBER 11. 1904.
THE CROSS ROOSTER WINS.
BY DAISY NOBLE IVES.
Under the plum tree in the hen
yard the cross rooster and his family
were crowing and cackling and the
rooster seemed to be the center of
the disturbance, as. indeed, he always
was of everything that went on in
the yard, where women’s right were
unheard of.
“To think!” he spluttered. “Here,
right in my own home, under my own
plum tree! Just when the plums are
ripe and the nice wormy ones are
falling—enough of ’em so I can have
all I want and some left for you, those
children should have the face to shoo
us—yes, actually shoo ME, while they
The Rise and Fall of
the Toboggan Slide
By EUPHEMIA HOLDEN.
Illustrated by L. R. Dedrick.
When winter comes and sleds are
taken out and ears have to be rubbed
to keep from freezing, it’s very hard
luck to live in a big flat city where
there’s no place to coast.
That’s what Patsy and her friends
thought until Mr. Harkness suggest
ed that they should club together and
buy lumber for a toboggan slide, and
that he would help them along.
Every one gave what he could and
Mr. Harkness made up the rest and
hired a carpenter to help them build
it. When they looked over the space
they found there could be a much
longer slide in the Martin’s yard, so
THERE W\2> A CREAK.A CRASH AHD THE WHOLE SLIDE
FELL TO THE GROUWn. *
Mrs. Martin said they might put It
up there.
It was twenty feet high and wide
enough for one, but you had to
keep your hands and feet to your
self or they would get scraped on the
edge.
When it was all done the boys
poured water on at night, and the
morning it was covered with smooth
clear Ice.
How they screamed and slid and
pushed and enjoyed themselves!
Laura Martin ran head on into
the clothes reel. At first she thought
she was hurt, but in a minute she
picked herself up and laughed. She
really hadn’t any time to waste when
there was so much fun going on.
“Let’s try goin’ down backwards,"
suggested Jim after the first half hour.
"Yes, let’s” they cried in chorus.
The boys tried it first. Boys always
do.
They were dumped and scattered
and hit the edge a good deal, but they
declared it was the best fun yet.
“You go first, Laura. said Patsy.
“Oh, no, you,” said Laura.
"Oh, you're scared," cried Patsy.
•“So'rovyou,” laughed Laura.
“Ain’t either,” said Patsy; ‘‘look'ee
here."
She turned her coaster around and
Laura held it for her. Then she
sprawled on it backward, holding to
the edge of the platform.
“Ready?” asked Laura.
Then, before Patsy had time to re
ply. there was a creak, a crash and
the whole slide fell to the ground,
leaving Patsy, who had kept her hold
on the platform dangling In the air
twenty feet above the ground.
"Hold on! Let go! Look out! Oh!
Oh! Oh!" came the chorus from be
low. Laura, all white and quiet, stood
on the platform gazing at Patsy.
Pulny hung on as she had never
hung in all her life. It seemed hours
to her before they got the step ladder
from the woodshed, apd George
climbed up and helped her down Just
the way the firemen rescue people
from a burning building.
When Patsy was safety on the
ground, breathless but not a bit hurt,
George went up after Laura and help
ed her get her feet on the ladder and
everybodv cheered when they were
both on th* ground, and eertainly the
solid earth had never before felt so
good to the glrle.
Then they examined the wreck to
see what ■ ould tioselbly have made It
ve out when It had Just been put
up, and the carpenter had said It sis
strong enough to hold at least sis
children at * lima.
It did not take long lo discover
wb*i trad mu—d the wreck. On* of
| climb up and get the best the tree
affords!"
“Cut-cut! Shame-shame! Cut-’em
cut-’em! Cut the tree down if they
come again!” cackled all the sympa
thetic hens.
The cross rooster puffed up and
strutted about proudly.
“I’ll fix ’em if they come again,” he
said. “Uir meet ’em face to face!”
Just then, across the lawn, and in
at the henvard gate, came the whole
troop of children —Cornelia, Louis and
little Tane.
The plums blushed their purplest
and looked plumper than ever.
“Cut-cut!” cried all the hens, and
off they ran to the farthest end of
the yard.
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” said the cross
the biggest props had been sawed
clean through!
“I’ll bet the Sixth street gang did
it late last night,” cried Jim.
“Maybe it was Tommy Sullivan,”
suggested Laura, “’cause he wasn’t
asked to join.”
"Aw no.” exclaimed Frank Kil
bourn; “he wouldn’t a done that. He
goes with the other gang anyhow.”
“Well, it’s dirt mean,” cried Jim
angrily; "all our money and Mr.
Harkness’ and all the trouble."
“It won’t be hard to fix,” Arthur
Harkness said, after an examination.
He didn’t mind it much because he
always thought the carpentering part
of anything was the most fun.
They set to work right away, dis
cussing all the time who had spoiled
their work and fun. The girls went
off into the house as they seemed to
be of no especial use.
“I wanta help,” said little Roland
Martin, emerging from the house. He
had been down town with his mother
to get anew suit of clothes. He
brought out a tiny saw which be
longed to anew tool chest his uncle
had given him.
The boys laughed and handed him
some boards to saw. To their sur
prise he did very well.
’’Bully for you, kid,” said Frank
Kilbourn.
Roland puffed out his fat little
chest.
“Oh, I’m fine," he said. "I done it
on that great big stick in the 'boggan
slide and it went wight trough.”
While the boys stared at the cul-
• Unnty leaped leet foremost.
prit In astonishment, George picked
up his younger brother and spanked
him thoroughly.
hint* OIK JKNIMA lItKKI,
When Jemima hakes she takes
All the klti hen for her cukes.
Bh* drops the dough upon the floor
And then pats it s little more.
And when she'* done, her hands, I
know.
Are vastly cleaner than the dough.
Hut when Jemima* cake come out,
Although we all mey feel a doubt,
t! " h one of us must Casts and say
It 1* tbs best In *l*oy * day.
rooster. “Come over here if you
dare!”
“I dast to come in spite of you,”
said Cornelia, the eldest, and she made
a face at the cross rooster.
”1 dast to come, too,” said Louis.
“I dast. too,” echoed little Jane.
But that was the end of their cour
age. for the erwse roaster started to
ward them with his snub erect, his
wattles glowing and his feathers
bristling.
The plums were forgotten and the
children fled through the gate where
they had entered so bravely.
“Cock-a-doodie-doo!” crowded the
cross rooster, “Humans are all cow
ards if you go at them right. Come
back, my dear biddies, and we’ll have
a feast—only you must not touch the
best ones. Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
ON LOGGER NO. 4.
Tlie Story of a Mad Ride on a Steel
Horse.
By GRANVILLE OSBORNE.
Illustrated by R. H. Roth.
"Banty” Burns was a stubby, muscu
lar Scotch-Irish youth, who had
mounted through the grades of en
gine-wiper and fireman to the position
of hostler at Raymer, a division sta
tion on the D. K. & S. Railroad, a
line on the south shore of Lake Su
perior.
His striking traits were pluck and a
remarkable capacity for work. His
good fame bade fair to bring him early
promotion, when a grave mishap—the
collision of the engine he was bringing
from the house with a stock train
forced him from the company’s serv
ice.
He searched for work at once, for
he had an only sister at school in
Duluth, and she depended on him for
support.
Thus he happened to be the guest
of the crew in the caboose of Logger
No. 4, coming down Tortoise Moun
tain on a brisk October morning.
There were “frost whiskers” on the
rails of that branch track, and a fog
enveloped the low ground at Gooman
on the main line.
The position and condition of the
trains in the vicinity at 7 o'clock that
morning were apparently normal; fif
teen minutes later more than one train
was in peril.
Up on Tortoise Mountain, Logger
No. 4 was overpowering its big en
gine, as they went downward over the
greasy rails at an alarming pace.
Long-bodied, squatty, , with ten low
drivers under her, presenting unusual
breadth of tire surface to the rails, the
heavy engine was holding back with
all her power. But nineteen cars of
green logs, on such slippery steel as
law under her that morning, could not
be held. Faster and faster the long
snake-like train pushed downwards,
whipping and rocking around the fall
ing curves in a hissing, drumming tur
moil of noise.
Seth Johnson at the throttle grew
earnest, then pale. The train was fitted
with ait brakes, which he set. With a
clanking heave the train slackened
speed; then a valve-rod under the first
car snapped, and -with a lurch the
whole clamorous fabric plunged on
ward.
Johnson had the air brakes set on
the engine, the sand pipes spouting
on the frost, and the drivers turning
backward, but the mighty machine
went downward over the crystal
smoothness like a toboggan.
Back in the “dinky” caboose there
was a panic. Sid Turner, conductor,
and his two brakemen were shouting
half-heard things at one another.
“Go out ahead and set the hand
brakes!” commanded Turner.
The brakemen looked down the line
of swaying, jostling, plunging loads,
and flatly refused to imperil their
lives.
Banty Burns got up from a seat. He
was moved by two thoughts—first
and most powerful, the sentimental
thought that it was a shame to sit
still and let things go to destruction
without trying to prevent it; secondly.
Banty reflected that if he should suc
ceed he would probably not have to
continue to look for work.
In his brown eyes burned a kind of
fire. “I'm going over ahead to help
Johnson!” he said. "I’ll twist up the
brakes as I go! If you fellows are
scared, you can pull the pin and cut
the caboose loose; but If I were you,
Kid, I’d stay with my train!"
That was all. He Jumped upon the
first cur, and began to clumber over
the heaped-up logs, setting the brakes
as he went, but the wheels slipped on
the lev rail* like aled-ruunera,
Bauly soon had to crawl along the
logs on hla hands and knees, clutching
fast like g shaken Insect.
Hearing a snarling rip of sound, he
glanced a found and saw the caboose
snap like a whip-cracker against a
stony bank and burst open. In an In
stant It was lost to view, and down
ward tbs tram roared, seeming u,
brakes
HOW PIERRE HELD THE CABLE
A True Story of the French Fishing Fleet.
BY G. B. MITCHELL.
Illustrated by the Author.
Pierre sat on the hatch of the little
French fishing smack. “La Madonna
de les Duanes” was the name painted
in white letters on her stern.
Behind Pierre stood patron Bigelot
—Captain Bigelot we would call him.
His powerful hands grasped the long
tiller as he tacked the vessel first in
toward the right bank of the river
and then, toward the left bank.
In the bow a part of the crew were
busy shifting the heavy cable from
the ship’s anchor to the great net.
There were ten men in all besides
Pierre and Jacques, who were the
“petit mousches” or “little flies.”
On every fishing smack in the great
fleet of fishermen were two of these
little flies or fisher lads. They were
as essnetial as the crew, for they had
their especial and important offices
to fill. No one else could crawl into
the tiny space between the decks and
the ship’s bow and coil up the great
dripping cable as it was hauled in.
.Pierre proudly surveyed the deck
of the little vessel. It was not the
spotless, shining deck of a man-of
war, yet to him it was his beloved
abode, for every day in the year but
Sundays and the holidays. Then he
could go ashore, put on his blue,
double-breasted coat and his cap with
the shining black visor and sit with
other men in the little church.
He did not care if Jacques did shirk
the errands of the men so that he had
to do much more than his share.
Hadn’t Jacques been going to sea
much longer than he?
A shower of spray and the whiff
Ardnnd the capstan he went, whirling.
of salt air brought Pierre to his feet.
They were in the lower bay f Other
vessels were tacking and su'ddening
this way and that as they headed for
the bar.
Rattle, rattle, bang! went the great
mainsail as patron Bigelot brought
the craft up into the wind. Then the
sheet blocks went sliding along the
iron runners, the helm was pushed
hard to port, and over the bar they
went with a rush, into deep water.
The vessel danced merrily about in
the choppy sea of the channel. Again
she came up into the wind and a wave
crest broke over her bow, wetting tlte
men to the skin.
A command came from the patron
to heave away the net. Over went
the great spar, with the iron hoops
and enormous net attached and splash!
into the sea. The cable was allowed
to run out a hundred fathoms
or more over the hawser block in the
bow.
Then it was time to turn in, for
there was work to be done before
dawn. The men crawled into their
bunks, the patron stretched his great
form on the cabin floor. Pierre and
Jacques huddled together on the sail
in the locker.
The gray dawn had barely begun
to light the eastern horizon when the
captain crawled up the companion.
Overhead the stars were shining. The
wind had freshened and the wave tops
were white with foam.
‘‘AH hands on deck!” roared patron
Bigelot. The men crawled out, rub
bing their eyes, and stumbled up on
deck. A hand reached down and lift
ed a “petit mousche” by the collar, so
that he literally awoke standing on
his feet.
Then came the command to “heave
ho.” The men thrust the bars into
the capstan and laboriously began to
draw in the cable. The captain tug-
When Banty, hatless and with
bleeding fingers, at last tumbled over
the tailboard into the shaking coal of
the tender, he found the cab empty.
Johnson and the fireman had Jumped.
He leaned out of the window.
Should he, too, abandon the run
away? The noise of the train was
like a rushing Hood of thunder, shot
through with the snarling hiss of slid
ing brakes and wheels. The rocking of
the engine was terrifying.
"If she stays on the rails and has
two or three miles of clear sailing on
the main line, I'll get her under con
trol,” thought Banty.
His teeth were set hard, and his
face was drawn. As the engine rush
ed into the more open ground, Banty
swung over to the fireman's window
and looked out. Away below him
wavered the main line track, and—on
it was the express, making eastward.
Could he get out on the main line
ahead of her As he guzed, a picture
of the ground near the switch flushed
Into view—he saw the sharp curve of
the brunch truck as it met the main
track, and the next extension of the
branch track in a safety spur for near
ly a quarter of a mile parallel with
the main line. Khould he go on the
safety spur, or take the hasard of get
ing on the main line ahead of the ex
press ?
Just then h* saw an engine coming
swiftly from the east.
His face turned dead white.
That rngiiie must te moving on a
cross older, or running away, for It
would trash into the express, seeming
ly, a hair mils west of ths awitch.
Ms setsod the Whist Is-grig end —nilfrll
ged away with the rest, occasionally
giving an extra spurt.
The vessel came up into the wind
her sail shaking and pounding with a
noise like the report of muskets
Jacques, who was the more experi
enced, crawled below to coil the wet
cable. Pierre watched the capstan
drum to see that the turns were true
and even, and also pushed the slack
rope down to the companion.
The mainsail sheet blocks writhed
in the air about the men’s heads like
the tail of an angry serpent. Finally
the net was brought up alongside and
secured with rope and tackle to the
main masthead.
AH was ready for hoisting the net
on deck. As the men began to raise
it from the water, Pierre saw that
the mesh sagged heavily. He caught
the phosphorescent gleam of myriads
of scales.
But there was a snap! The tackle
at the masthead parted! The great
net sank with a mighty splash. The
cable began to run out over the
hawser block —first slowly, then faster
and faster.
The men made frantic efforts to
seize the heavy, slipping rope and
check its escape.
Pierre heard a startled cry from the
ship’s hold, and at once divined the
reason.
He seized the cable as it slid along
the deck. He was pulled off his feet
and drawn against the capstan. First
his fingers were forced against the
drum, then the rope entangled his
legs. Around the capstan he went,
whirling. The pain was frightful, but
he held on grimly.
The rope moved more slowly. The
combined efforts of the sailors check-
ed it.“3 escape and a couple of turns of
the slack end around the capstan
made it secure.
Willing hands quickly released
Pierre from the cable’s terrible em
brace. Hs sank unconscious on the
deck.
Down in the black, ill-smelling hold
Jacques lay wound tightly in the coils
that had caught and enveloped him
when the sudden strain had sent them
flying and squirming out. A moment
more and he would (jave been crushed
as a python crushes its prey.
By the feeble rays of the ship’s
lantern the men drew Jacques out of
his perilous position.
A dash of salt water made Pierre
open his eyes. Bending over him was
Patron Bigelot.
"Is Jacques hurt?” ha asked, trying
to rise.
“Jacques is all right,” said the cap
tain. “He can thank his saint that
you seized that cable when you did,
otherwise we would have had but one
'petit mousche’ aboard this ship.
The rough sailors bandaged up
Pierre's crushed fingers and bathed
his limbs with salt water —the best
they could do. Then* they bore him
to one of the bunks in the cabin.
It meant weeks before those poof
hands or the bruised limbs would be
well again, but Pierre’s eyes shone
with Joy. Jacques' gratitude knew no
bounds. He kissed his cheeks, ten
derly arranged his head on a pillow,
and did everything that the scanty
cabin furnishings would permit to
made his comrade comfortable.
‘‘To think that you would risk your
life to save mine when I have made
you do my work as well as your own,”
he said, with the tears in his eyes.
“I did it because you are my com
rade,” said Pierre a faint smile light
ing his pale face.
for the switch to be thrown; he would
meet the great ram, rushing from the
east, himself. His was only a single
life, there were many on the express.
Like a thunderbolt the logger went
down to strike the wild engine. All
the way Banty clung among the levers
like a spider to a wind-tossed web,
sounding the whistle for the switch to
open.
The switchman could not see the run
away engine, owing to a curving cut,
and the express was still three-fourths
of a mile away. He hesitatingly obey
ed the whistled signal, and turned
the switch.
With her engine screaming and her
loads reeling In a cloud of dust, the
logger burst over the frogs upon the
main track. The wild engine was not
two hundred feet away, and Banty,
seeing the deed was done, Jumped into
the gangway and leaped, feet foremost,
Into the air.
Banty awoke In the hospital at Ray
mer. When the officials heard his
story, several mysterious things were
made clear; one was, that he had risk
ed his own life In order to save the ex
press and ita human freight.
Hlx months later Banty was running
sn engine between Raymer and Du
luth.
I liarulu Jtsaweri
M-srfc,
Dirk,
P-ark.
D-ark,
11-ark.
■
CrsusMl isiwist
WaaUlr.*te%