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30 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%