Chapter XXV: Before Press Time

Young Mr. Gale, with an exceedingly peevish expression upon his handsome countenance, dropped into police headquarters with the intention of having a little talk with his friend, Chief Hodgins.

He was greatly disappointed when the patrolman on guard at the head of the stairway told him that the chief was not in.

“He’s taking a day off,” the man explained. “He’s gone out of town, I believe; but we expect him back to-morrow morning. Can’t your business wait until then?”

“Hardly,” Gale replied. “The matter I wished to see him about requires immediate attention. Who’s in charge while he’s away?”

“Captain Callman. Would you like to see him? He’s in the chief’s office now.”

The captain greeted his visitor cordially when he heard that the latter was the son of the proprietor of the administration organ. _Chronicle_ men were as welcome at police headquarters as _Bulletin_ men were obnoxious.

The captain listened with great interest to what Gale told him, and a troubled expression came to his face.

“Do you know whose pictures they’ve got?” he inquired uneasily.

“I know a couple of them. There were six altogether, but I haven’t the slightest idea who the other four were. It was quite impossible to recognize the faces in the negatives.”

“Well, even if you couldn’t recognize the faces, it seems to me that you ought to have been able to distinguish the uniforms,” said Callman anxiously. “Didn’t happen to notice whether one of ’em was wearing a captain’s uniform, did you, young man?”

“Why, yes,” said Gale. “There was a captain among them. It was a very clear snapshot--the best of the lot. It was taken on Main Street--I could tell that by the buildings in the background. But I don’t know which captain it was. As I have said, it wasn’t possible to distinguish the faces on the films.”

“I think I know who it was, all right,” growled Callman. “I’ve got an idea that it was me. I’ve a hazy recollection that somebody took a flash-light picture of me on Main Street last night.”

“A hazy recollection?” Gale echoed, with an inquiring inflection.

The captain nodded gloomily. “Yes; I don’t remember much about it, but I’ve got a faint idea that the thing happened. You see, some of my friends gave me a little dinner as a token of their esteem last night, and--well, there must have been something wrong with the lobster salad, I guess. I had a fierce attack of--er--ptomaine poisoning, and when I left the festive board to go on duty I was pretty wabbly on my legs, and my head wasn’t very clear; but I’ve got just a dim recollection of a fellow standing in front of me with a camera, and of a flash light going off. I had clean forgotten all about it, but what you have told me has brought it back to me.”

“Gee!” exclaimed Gale sympathetically. “So one of those snapshots is of you, eh? That’s too bad, captain. But what are you going to do about it? Surely you don’t intend to let those stiffs publish your picture?”

Callman scowled. “Not if I can help it. But how can I stop ’em?”

“Well, if I were in your place I shouldn’t hesitate at anything,” said Gale. “If necessary, I’d march a squad of cops into the _Bulletin_ office, and seize those films and the cuts made from them.”

Callman considered this suggestion for a few moments, then shook his head. “No, I don’t like that very much. It would be too high-handed a proceedin’. If it wasn’t a newspaper that we had to deal with, I might try it; but it’s dangerous to monkey with the liberty of the press. That’s one thing the people won’t stand for.”

“But those snapshots were taken in violation of the law--the new anticamera law,” argued Gale. “Surely that gives you the legal right to confiscate them.”

“No, it don’t,” said Callman regretfully. “I was talkin’ with the district attorney about that the other day, and he told me that while we can arrest a newspaper photographer for taking pictures without a license, we can’t stop the newspaper from publishing the pictures.

“Besides,” he added, “if I did as you suggest, it would probably get the mayor sore. He’s a little leery about this new camera law.”

Gale was somewhat discouraged, but suddenly he brightened up. “Well, here’s another suggestion, captain,” he said. “Why not try what bribery will do? The _Bulletin’s_ photo-engraving plant is run by a fellow named Neilson. What’s the matter with sending somebody to see him, and offer him a good price to hand over the negatives and destroy the cuts?”

Callman nodded approvingly. “That sounds much better. But are you sure that the man can be bribed?”

“Pshaw! Every man has his price,” was the cynical reply. “And I don’t suppose this Neilson hates money more than most of us.”

“I’m not sure that it would work,” said Callman, “but it’s worth tryin’. How would you suggest goin’ about it? It’s a little dangerous, of course, but I’m willing to take a chance.”

“I don’t think there’d be the slightest danger, captain,” said Gale. “I’ve got a plan by which it could be worked with perfect safety.”

He proceeded to explain this plan to the acting head of Oldham’s police force, and that official thought very well of it, and decided to put it into effect immediately.

An hour later, a large, red-faced man named Rudolph Meyer, who kept a delicatessen store not far from police headquarters, and who was under certain obligations to Police Captain Callman, entered the Bulletin Building, and ascended the stairway leading to the photo-engraving plant.

At the top of the first flight he was intercepted by Miggsy. “Hey! Where d’yer suppose you’re going, mister?” the boy demanded.

“I want to go by der place where der cuts iss made,” Mr. Meyer explained. “I haff a little order for some advertising cuts which I wish to give.”

“Oh, some job work, eh?” said Miggsy. “All right; I’ll show you the way up to the plant.”

“You needn’t trouble, my boy,” said Mr. Meyer hastily. “I find it all right by meinself.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, mister,” declared Miggsy, with a grin. “This way, please.”

Mr. Meyer did not appear to be tickled to death by this attention, but he followed the boy up the stairs without making any further protest.

Neilson was working on the police cuts when they entered the room. He looked up suspiciously at his visitors. Carroll had warned him to be strictly on his guard while the snapshots were in his possession.

“Here’s a gent who wants to do some business with you. Mr. Neilson,” Miggsy announced. And then, greatly to Meyer’s relief, the boy went downstairs, leaving him alone with the photo-engraver.

The visitor lost no time in getting down to business. There was no telling when the boy or somebody else might come into the room, and Mr. Meyer was exceedingly averse to saying what he had to say to Neilson in the presence of a third party. At no time in his life had he felt more inclined to indorse the old saying that “two is company, three is a crowd,” than at this minute.

“I want some cuts made,” he began. “I am getting out a leedle advertising circular for my wine and liquor business. Here iss one of the pictures which I wish made into a cut.”

He drew a small oblong of saffron-hued paper from his pocket, and held it before Neilson’s eyes.

“Why, that ban a fifty-dollar bill,” exclaimed Neilson in astonishment.

Mr. Meyer took from his pocket another slip of paper. “And here, mein friend, is another leedle picture which I wish made into a cut,” he announced.

The engraver’s eyes opened wider. “That ban a hundred-dollar bill!” he exclaimed.

“Nefer mind what they are, mein friend,” said Meyer. “I want them both made into cuts for mein leedle advertising circular. You can do it--yes?”

“Sure,” Neilson replied. “Why not? When must the cuts be ready?”

“Oh, there’s no hurry. Keep these leedle pictures for as long as you like.” Mr. Meyer put his head closer to the engraver’s, and lowered his voice. “In fact, mein friend, you can keep them forever--if you will do me a leedle favor.”

Neilson’s eyes glistened hungrily. “What’s the favor?” he demanded eagerly. “I ban willing to do whole lot of favors for a hundred and fifty dollars.”

In a tense whisper, Mr. Meyer explained how the money was to be earned. The _Bulletin’s_ photo-engraver did not appear to be horrified or indignant.

“Oil right,” he said phlegmatically; “I do it. I ban sick of this here yob, anyway. Give me the hundred and fifty dollars. It ban look good to me.”

He held out his hand, and, as the yellowbacks came in contact with his long, slim fingers, his ears caught a faint, clicking sound, which came from a large canvas screen at the other end of the room.

Then there was a chuckle, and a voice cried exultantly: “All right, Ole; we’ve got it!”

Mr. Meyer glanced uneasily toward the screen. From behind that piece of furniture stepped two young men. One of them had a camera in his hand.

“What’ll I do with this here dirty money, Mr. Carroll?” inquired Neilson, his usually stolid countenance animated by a broad grin.

“Give it back to the gentleman, Ole,” Carroll chuckled. “He may need it to buy _Bulletins_ with to-morrow morning. I’ve no doubt he’ll want a whole lot of copies, inasmuch as his portrait is going to occupy such a prominent position in the paper.”

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * * * *

THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS.

Raw Cotton in Many Colors.

In South Carolina there is a cotton grower, W. Brabham, who maintains that cotton may be colored before it is grown. He says: “I have now in prospect or on hand red, brown, green, and gray cotton.” Some he got by means of hybridizing. Red is native to Peru, gray is grown in India, brown in Egypt, yellow in China, and black is being developed in Mexico, according to Mr. Brabham.

He says soil has no effect on the colors, and he believes that it will be possible to grow practically any desired shade as a result of crossing the various available colors. Thus, if the war makes it impossible to obtain dyes, we may be able to get along with the aid of nature and have the additional certainty that the colors will be fast.

Tree is Foe of Mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes had better give Pennsylvania a wide berth in the future, if Professor Henry G. Walters’ eucalyptus trees begin to flourish. Recently the professor planted 500 seeds of this tree, which is a native of Australia, at his plant-research institute at Langhorne, Bucks County, Pa. He says they keep away mosquitoes and miasma.

Professor Walters is not certain that he can induce the trees to stand the Pennsylvania climate, but he’s going to try. Unless they are treated chemically, they succumb usually to a temperature below twenty-seven degrees. When they grow properly they attain a height of 375 to 480 feet.

They have other values in addition to being mosquito exterminators. The oil has a fragrant perfume. From the eucalyptus rostrata, or red gum, Professor Walters says, a delicious beverage is obtained by steeping the blossoms in water.

The tree species planted at Langhorne recently are the amygdalina, or peppermint gum; the rostrata, or red gum, and globulus, or Tasmanian blue gum.

Saw Seven Distinct Suns.

Seven distinct suns, or solar reflections, were seen by Mr. and Mrs. R. M. King, of Oak Mills, Kan., and, as near as they can recall, the strange phenomenon occurred in March, 1855. Mrs. King is making inquiry through the press to know if any of the old-timers remember it.

The strange spectacle was first noticed at eight o’clock in the morning and lasted until noon. They were in a group, each sun having a circle around it, and wherever these circles intersected there appeared to be a small star. The phenomenon caused considerable consternation among superstitious people, some contending that it was an omen of an impending war or that the end of the world was near.

Aime Argand and the Lamp.

A lamp of some character has been used since a period so remote that no trace of its origin is to be found, but the lamp, as we understand it, was the invention of Aime Argand, a Frenchman, and he came about the effectiveness of this lighting apparatus in a most unique way.

Argand never fairly lifted himself out of the rut of poverty, but lived and died poor, disappointed and neglected. He was born at Geneva, Switzerland, in 1755, but he was living in England in 1782, when his first lamp was produced. The main feature of his lamp was that the wick fitted into a hollow cylinder, up which a current of air was allowed to pass, admitting a free supply of oxygen to the interior as well as the exterior of the circular flame.

Interesting New Inventions.

To keep telephones clean a San Francisco inventor has patented a machine that automatically covers a transmitter with paper after it has been used, which paper must be removed before the instrument is used again.

A newly invented electrical device measures off the ten-millionth part of a second with accuracy.

A space-saving household novelty is a folding washtub, which is locked against collapsing when filled with water.

A coat and hatrack combined with a fire escape is a new and useful piece of household furniture.

So that automobiles can be run on railroad tracks, flanged steel rims have been invented that are attached by deflating the tires and then inflating them until they grip the rims.

Two Wisconsin inventors have patented a kerosene lamp that is automatically extinguished if upset or even lifted from a support.

A California genius has rigged up a motor cycle with battery and motor, so that he dispenses with the use of gasoline.

Cows Travel Far to Mourn.

Employees at the cattle pens at Paoli freight station, in Philadelphia, Pa., were puzzled the other day when they found two stray cows near the pens when they reported for work. The cows were lowing and wouldn’t be driven away.

When F. H. Bernheisel, a cattle dealer of Newtown Square, arrived, he said that the cows were the mothers of two calves found trampled dead when a car containing a herd consigned to him was unloaded at Paoli. The calves were buried soon after the unloading, and Bernheisel’s employees drove the herd to his farm.

The two mother cows got away from the pasture during the night and made the seven-mile journey to their “babies” at Paoli in darkness.

Now Numbers His Children.

If any person in Pendleton County, Ky., needs a fourteen-passenger motor car, it must be County Assessor John McClanahan. Well, he actually tried to get his family all in a buggy recently and go to McKinneysburg visiting. Everybody mistook them for a Sunday-school picnic party and never knew any better until they were told that John McClanahan was taking a section of the Christian Church congregation of McKinneysburg to spend the day with relatives. Several tried to count them, but made no headway, as one little fellow kept moving about so they could not count him. Some made a good guess, and that was to the effect that he had a buggy load.

John has run out of names and gone to numbering them. He has passed out of the teens, but we don’t know where he started nor do we know or even attempt to guess where he will stop.

To Make Compass on Watch.

A watch may be used to determine the points of the compass by pointing the hour hand at the sun any time of the day and then placing a small piece of straight wire crosswise between the hour hand and the figure twelve, getting exactly halfway. The point of the wire which comes between the twelve and the hour hand always points due south.

Shoots White Jack Rabbit.

A snow-white jack rabbit, shot in the big grazing district at Bazaar, Kan., by Robert Carr, was a curiosity brought to Cottonwood Falls by George Martin. According to old residents here, such a thing as a white jack rabbit has never before been heard of. Carr, who shot the animal, said it made a shining target against the green grass of the range, and he would have been glad to have captured it alive.

Robbed by an Automobile.

A freak automobile accident here robbed J. L. Moore, seventy-five years old, of his watch and Masonic charm. Mr. Moore was one of the thousands of visitors attending the “fruit fair” at Salem, Ore. As he crossed the street, an automobile brushed against him. He was knocked down. The machine kept going, and with it was part of Mr. Moore’s waistcoat, containing his watch and Masonic charm.

Look Out! Meteors Falling.

Jacob Weggen, of Muscatine, Iowa, narrowly escaped death from the skies when a nine-pound fragment of meteorite, which exploded above him embedded itself in the earth, within eight feet from him as he stood bewildered by the phenomena.

Weggen was crossing the lawn when he observed a bright light in the skies. He witnessed the approach of the aërolite and its explosion.

Bird Excites Missourians.

A strange bird that has been making its appearance on the Yeager farm, three miles southwest of Gentry, Mo., is causing considerable comment among the people of the vicinity. People who have seen the bird at close range say it in no way resembles a parrot, but it calls as plainly as a person could speak the words: “William Stevens--William Stevens.”

There is no person living in the neighborhood by that name, and the bird’s insistent call is causing people to wonder. Efforts are being made to capture the bird alive, but it is very wild, and so far has succeeded in eluding capture.

Willy Gets Spanked--Bang!

Mrs. William Brown, of Jamison City, Pa., felt badly about spanking her son, William, junior, but it had to be done. Now she is deeply grieved, because her boy is suffering pain from burns received as a result of the spanking.

Junior found a box of toy-pistol caps left over from the Fourth and carried them in his trousers pocket. When he went swimming and didn’t come home until an hour after supper time, Mrs. Brown turned him over her knee and began to administer the corrective treatment.

As a result of an unusually hard contact of the slipper the caps exploded all at once.

Picking Prickly Peppers.

Samuel Pocket’s pockets are not pickpocket proof, but to Sam it’s no laughing matter. While he was boarding a street car Saturday in Saginaw, Mich., on his way to a picnic, some one slipped his hand into one of Sam’s pistol pockets and fled with a pocketbook containing $180. When Pocket put his own hand in his own pocket, he found the pocketbook, pelf, and picnic pass were gone, and his discovery was positive and painful.

Old “Nipsic” Goes Up in Smoke.

The touch of a match and all that was left of the gallant old battleship _Nipsic_, which helped make naval history for nearly fifty years, was consigned to flames on Lumi Island on Bellingham Bay, Wash.

Two incidents stand out above all the rest in the palmy days of the _Nipsic_. She was of Admiral Farragut’s fleet at Mobile and she was the only American vessel to come out whole in the typhoon at Aphia, Samoa, in 1889.

Old Lady, Seventy-nine, is Some Rider.

With the mercury at one hundred degrees, Mrs. Cynthia E. Davis, of Goshen, Ind., celebrated her seventy-ninth-birthday anniversary by riding a bicycle to New Paris and return, a distance of twelve miles. Again at home she said to two nephews and a pair of slender gazelles who may have some right to be called second or third cousins: “Come on, chickens, I’ll scramble ye a few aigs.”

Loud Siren Screecher Terrorizes Hundreds.

“Bob” Maynard is known to be one of the best logging engineers in Chireno, Texas, but he doesn’t like to run a wheezy, prancing old steam hurdy-gurdy. Not at all; give Bob a likely hummer and he is the chap that will keep her humming. Thus it was that he no sooner had engaged with a logging outfit than he demanded and got a brand-new engine. The whistle on the new power producer was too much like a boy’s penny trumpet to suit the fastidious Bob. Bob had had some experience along the Mississippi and had heard the noisy whistles that adorn some of the big flat-bottom boats. And in due time there arrived from the big shop up north a siren screecher warranted to be heard ten miles, in either direction, on a still day.

Everything adjusted to Bob’s practical taste, he proceeded to run the new beauty over to where it was to do duty at a busy lumber camp. Arrived in that vicinity at about the same time was a full-fledged Sunday school out for a picnic in the woods. When Bob let loose with the great siren screecher--now low and mournful--then wild and alarming--and again to its limit, as if some eighty-foot, hundred-ton dinosaurus had suddenly come to life and was setting up an unearthly howl for its mate, Bob’s heart fluttered with delight.

Hearing the awful sounds, four of the Sunday-school girls rushed back to the grove where half a hundred children and adults stood spellbound, and cried out: “Wolves--panthers--bears--monsters--save us! save us!”

After long consultation, half a dozen men, with guns and dogs, started out to scour the country for the “roaring hyenus,” as one of the men called it.

By this time scores of people came rushing pell-mell from a near-by settlement, armed with shotguns, rifles, axes, pitchforks, and fence stakes. “Whatever is it?” they shouted, and “What is to become of us?” from many of the women formed into groups with their young ones shielded behind their barriers of skirts.

“Go, men, and slay that awful beast before we are all devoured like the martyrs of yore,” yelled one tall, wild-eyed matron, pointing a long, bony finger in the direction of the terrifying sounds, which again broke forth, with even greater fury.

Soon there was a crashing of underbrush, wild cries of excited men, barking and howling of numerous hounds, occasional shots, as the attackers advanced toward the spot from which the alarming sounds came.

Now hundreds of telephones were in use throughout the country. “What is it?” one would ask. “What is what?” comes the reply. “That awful noise we hear,” another would explain. “Cyclone, I guess,” still another would answer.

In time the attacking force came to the clearing where Bob was amusing himself with the try-out of his screeching pet. The attackers and their dogs, the former seeing that the enemy was nothing worse than a man of average height and weight and some sort of hissing locomotive, made a football rush, and, as they came to a halt, all exclaimed as one man:

“Well, what the h--l!”

“Jest tunin’ her up,” said Bob, with a characteristic grin.

“Tunin’ her up!” angrily exclaimed one of the Sunday-school scouts. “Don’t ye know yer tunin’ up the whole county with that thar crazy whangdoodle affair? Want ter skeer people ter death?”

“Oh,” said Bob calmly, “they’ll like it in time--it’s more fun than a cage o’ monkeys.”

“Jes’ so, I don’t think,” said the angry man. “And I’ll tell you what, mister, ef thet thingumbob scares any of them wimmen and children to death, we’ll bring heavy damage suits against the company, that’s what we’ll do.”

“You can’t blow that thing around these diggings any more,” said the superintendent of the Sunday school.

“Now, see here,” said Bob, “you go fetch all the women and little ones over here to the camp and let me demonstrate to them, and if this here whistle isn’t the one big, entertaining feature of your picnic, I’ll promise never to blow her again.”

This was finally agreed upon, and, true to Bob’s claim, the whole crowd found the noisy siren to be “more fun than a cage of monkeys.”

Before breaking up at nightfall the picknickers declared Bob was the hero of the day, and tendered him a vote of thanks.

Even so, the big laugh was reserved to the last. Just as Bob was banking his fire and the crowd were shouting and waving their good-bys and good nights, the faces of three wild-eyed Indians loomed up from behind a clump of sagebrush and continued to stare with what might be called frozen amazement. When finally induced to speak, one of them said, with a smile, “Injin heap fool. Come much far. All day climb tree when hear noise. No can tell what. Injin heap fool. Odder Injin now much laugh.”

Finds Some Use for Dogfish.

Dogfish are so numerous in Long Island waters that they are cluttering up the fishermen’s lines. No use had been found for them until Roger Carman, of Freeport, N. Y., cut the two little horns off one of the fish and used them for needles on his phonograph.

Carman says these dogfish horns reproduce the records perfectly, without any grating noise, and that there does not seem to be any wear out to them. Contrary to expectations, there was no barking sound, no more than there would be mewing if catfish horns were used.

All the fishermen hereabouts are now saving the two little horns on each dogfish, with the expectation that there will be a big demand for them by phonograph users.

Look Out for Towel Inside.

Doctor Edgar Todd, of Toms River, N. J., is feeling better and his “unaccountable illness” has at last been explained. Doctor Todd was operated on last December for kidney trouble, but failed to improve. Recently he was operated on again and a surgeon’s towel, ten inches in diameter, was removed from his body.

Man and Wife Keep Up Mum Game Fifty Years.

Fifty-two years married and fifty years gone by without speaking to each other.

This is the remarkable record of a South Westport, Mass., couple, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Wing. Outside of their neighbors, who have known of the estrangement for years, but have carefully refrained from mentioning it, the unique conversational separation of the old people did not become known to the world at large until their home was destroyed by fire.

Few people know the cause of the gulf between the two, and they treasure their secret. It began shortly after their marriage, half a century ago. Both have endured the situation and both apparently have lived happy, contented, and useful lives. Their only conversation during that long span of time has been carried on through the medium of a third person.

Mr. Wing is a farmer, eighty-eight years old, while his wife is sixty-nine. Until their farmhouse burned down, Mrs. Wing lived in the house, while Mr. Wing lived in a sort of shanty which he styled his “den.” He has been living in the den since, and Mrs. Wing has gone to live with her son, whose residence is a short distance away.

Snakes and Snake Oil While Customers Wait.

About nine miles from Neosho, Mo., Adelbert Tibbins and J. J. Wilson are operating one of the most unique “farms” in the country. This is nothing less than a “rattlesnake ranch,” and this enterprise, which is conducted on Indian Creek, being in a neighborhood where snakes are plentiful, the two men are doing a thriving business. They say that there seems to be an unusually large number of reptiles in this part of the Ozarks this summer.

For three years the two men have been building up this business, and now have in the neighborhood of 600 snakes in their pits, which are so constructed that the reptiles cannot escape. The principal profits of this enterprise come from the extracting of poison from the rattlesnakes, which is sold at high prices to doctors, chemists, and others. Physicians use this poison, after it has been prepared in a scientific manner, for the treatment of epilepsy and other diseases.

Tibbins and Wilson also have a large revenue from the sale of live reptiles to traveling shows and to museums, at the established rate of twenty-five cents per pound. A large, fat serpent usually brings several dollars. The smaller, poorer specimens are killed and their flesh converted into rattlesnake oil, which has a steady sale at one dollar an ounce. This oil is said to be a specific for the treatment of rheumatism.

Most of the capturing of rattlesnakes for the “ranch” is done by the two partners themselves. Seldom can they find a white man who will take a chance on the rather dangerous duty, though occasionally an Indian or negro is found who is willing, for a good price, to run the risk of taking them alive. It is said that the best time for the hunting of rattlesnakes is in the early spring, when they first come out of their winter’s sleep and are still sluggish. They are caught by means of a forked stick, with which their heads are pinned to the earth and the captor can pick them up and place them in a sack.

When they intend to sell a live snake by weight it is fattened on rabbits or rats. They take on weight rapidly. Tibbins and Wilson have found as many as one hundred snakes in one cave. The same family of reptiles will occupy a cave for years if left undisturbed, the two men say.

Sportsmen Rescue Squirrel.

Joining forces, five trout fishermen in Orangeville, Minn., saved the life of a red squirrel which was on the point of being crushed by a huge blacksnake.

Hearing shrieks of terror, which none of the men had ever before heard, the men dropped their poles and rushed into the bushes, where they found a squirrel struggling to free itself from the coils of a big blacksnake, which was slowly winding itself around the little animal.

The snake was hacked into pieces in an instant, and the squirrel scampered up a tree, where he sat and chattered at his rescuers, who declare they are sure the animal was thanking them.

Ever-bearing Cherry Tree.

An ever-bearing cherry tree is the valuable possession of Mrs. Oliver Slimmer, of Russell, Kan. The freak tree has an abundance of ripe fruit on it, has green fruit, and is still blossoming. From present prospects the tree will bear cherries well into the fall.

Scarlet Diving Girl Author of New Fad.

Frog parties are likely to become popular with bathers at other inland water resorts when the experience of a girl, clad in a bright-red bathing suit, becomes generally known.

The girl in scarlet was bathing in shallow water at Highland Lake, near Winsted, Conn., when she felt frogs strike her repeatedly. Being a great lover of that delectable dish--frog legs--the girl turned her experience to good account.

She repaired to a cottage, sewed about fifty fishhooks in the bright-red bathing suit, and then reëntered the lake. When she emerged from the water, nearly every hook held a bullfrog.

Hears the Dog Bark; Yes, Dogs Have Eyes.

The mystery of the Blue Island ax murders of July, 1914, has solved itself. To escape the tortures of his own conscience, Casimir Areiszewski, the murderer, gave himself up to the police of Buffalo, N. Y., and wrote and signed a confession.

It was for the little hoard which he knew to be hidden in Jacob Mislich’s bedtick, said Areiszewski, that he killed Mislich, his wife, his daughter, and his granddaughter. But the crime did not yield even the sordid reward for which it was committed. Just as Areiszewski had cleared his way to the money, a dog barked--and ever since, he says, he has been unable to sleep without hearing and being awakened by a dream dog’s barking.

“I was born in Russia and am a brickmaker by trade,” ran Areiszewski’s statement. “I came to this country when I was fourteen, and worked in Chicago for a year or two. Then I got a job in a brickyard in Blue Island, and rented a room from Mislich.

“A couple of years later I went West. When I came back to Blue Island, I got my old job and my old room. I knew old Mislich had money hidden in his bedtick. I got up early in the morning of July 5th and crept downstairs. I found an ax out in the shed and carried it back to the house. I was in my stocking feet, and they did not hear me coming. I killed them as they slept.

“It was as I killed the last--the granddaughter--that the watchdog barked, I was afraid to stay any longer, and I went away without the money. I have heard the dog barking ever since. When I try to sleep he wakes me. I have traveled all over the country, but the dog is still with me.”

Makes Lucky Strike in Zinc.

Six months ago, George A. Tibbans, of Carterville, Mo., was “powder monkey” or shot firer at the old “Hero” zinc mine, at a wage of $3.50 per day. By the time he paid rent, household expenses, car fare, et cetera, he was in no danger of being forced to pay an income tax.

Believing he could do better for himself and family by working for himself, he secured a lease on the “Last Chance,” an old, abandoned mine that had never paid on account of the low price of ore. For several weeks he barely made wages, but as the price of ore gradually went higher, he began to receive weekly checks of forty and fifty dollars. Then he discovered a “pocket” of exceedingly rich ore, and right on top of this zinc ore jumped to $130 per ton.

Tibbans has leased a 100-ton mill and is now cleaning up something over $1,000 a week, with a good chance of doing even better, for the “pocket” is becoming richer, and zinc ore seems to be due for still higher prices.

Big Brewery Becomes Malted-milk Concern.

Coors Brewery, at Golden, Col., one of the largest in the State, will discontinue the manufacture of beer and will employ the same force of men in the manufacture of malted milk. The plant represents an investment of a million dollars.

* * * * *

The Nick Carter Stories

ISSUED EVERY SATURDAY BEAUTIFUL COLORED COVERS

When it comes to detective stories worth while, the =Nick Carter Stories= contain the only ones that should be considered. They are not overdrawn tales of bloodshed. They rather show the working of one of the finest minds ever conceived by a writer. The name of Nick Carter is familiar all over the world, for the stories of his adventures may be read in twenty languages. No other stories have withstood the severe test of time so well as those contained in the =Nick Carter Stories=. It proves conclusively that they are the best. We give herewith a list of some of the back numbers in print. You can have your news dealer order them, or they will be sent direct by the publishers to any address upon receipt of the price in money or postage stamps.

730--The Torn Card. 731--Under Desperation’s Spur. 732--The Connecting Link. 733--The Abduction Syndicate. 738--A Plot Within a Plot. 739--The Dead Accomplice. 746--The Secret Entrance. 747--The Cavern Mystery. 748--The Disappearing Fortune. 749--A Voice from the Past. 752--The Spider’s Web. 753--The Man With a Crutch. 754--The Rajah’s Regalia. 755--Saved from Death. 756--The Man Inside. 757--Out for Vengeance. 758--The Poisons of Exili. 759--The Antique Vial. 760--The House of Slumber. 761--A Double Identity. 762--“The Mocker’s” Stratagem. 763--The Man that Came Back. 764--The Tracks in the Snow. 765--The Babbington Case. 766--The Masters of Millions. 767--The Blue Stain. 768--The Lost Clew. 770--The Turn of a Card. 771--A Message in the Dust. 772--A Royal Flush. 774--The Great Buddha Beryl. 775--The Vanishing Heiress. 776--The Unfinished Letter. 777--A Difficult Trail. 782--A Woman’s Stratagem. 783--The Cliff Castle Affair. 784--A Prisoner of the Tomb. 785--A Resourceful Foe. 789--The Great Hotel Tragedies. 795--Zanoni, the Transfigured. 796--The Lure of Gold. 797--The Man With a Chest. 798--A Shadowed Life. 799--The Secret Agent. 800--A Plot for a Crown. 801--The Red Button. 802--Up Against It. 803--The Gold Certificate. 804--Jack Wise’s Hurry Call. 805--Nick Carter’s Ocean Chase. 807--Nick Carter’s Advertisement. 808--The Kregoff Necklace. 811--Nick Carter and the Nihilists. 812--Nick Carter and the Convict Gang. 813--Nick Carter and the Guilty Governor. 814--The Triangled Coin. 815--Ninety-nine--and One. 816--Coin Number 77.

NEW SERIES

NICK CARTER STORIES

1--The Man from Nowhere. 2--The Face at the Window. 3--A Fight for a Million. 4--Nick Carter’s Land Office. 5--Nick Carter and the Professor. 6--Nick Carter as a Mill Hand. 7--A Single Clew. 8--The Emerald Snake. 9--The Currie Outfit. 10--Nick Carter and the Kidnapped Heiress. 11--Nick Carter Strikes Oil. 12--Nick Carter’s Hunt for a Treasure. 13--A Mystery of the Highway. 14--The Silent Passenger. 15--Jack Dreen’s Secret. 16--Nick Carter’s Pipe Line Case. 17--Nick Carter and the Gold Thieves. 18--Nick Carter’s Auto Chase. 19--The Corrigan Inheritance. 20--The Keen Eye of Denton. 21--The Spider’s Parlor. 22--Nick Carter’s Quick Guess. 23--Nick Carter and the Murderess. 24--Nick Carter and the Pay Car. 25--The Stolen Antique. 26--The Crook League. 27--An English Cracksman. 28--Nick Carter’s Still Hunt. 29--Nick Carter’s Electric Shock. 30--Nick Carter and the Stolen Duchess. 31--The Purple Spot. 32--The Stolen Groom. 33--The Inverted Cross. 34--Nick Carter and Keno McCall. 35--Nick Carter’s Death Trap. 36--Nick Carter’s Siamese Puzzle. 37--The Man Outside. 38--The Death Chamber. 39--The Wind and the Wire. 40--Nick Carter’s Three Cornered Chase. 41--Dazaar, the Arch-Fiend. 42--The Queen of the Seven. 43--Crossed Wires. 44--A Crimson Clew. 45--The Third Man. 46--The Sign of the Dagger. 47--The Devil Worshipers. 48--The Cross of Daggers. 49--At Risk of Life. 50--The Deeper Game. 51--The Code Message. 52--The Last of the Seven. 53--Ten-Ichi, the Wonderful. 54--The Secret Order of Associated Crooks. 55--The Golden Hair Clew. 56--Back From the Dead. 57--Through Dark Ways. 58--When Aces Were Trumps. 59--The Gambler’s Last Hand. 60--The Murder at Linden Fells. 61--A Game for Millions. 62--Under Cover. 63--The Last Call. 64--Mercedes Danton’s Double. 65--The Millionaire’s Nemesis. 66--A Princess of the Underworld. 67--The Crook’s Blind. 68--The Fatal Hour. 69--Blood Money. 70--A Queen of Her Kind. 71--Isabel Benton’s Trump Card. 72--A Princess of Hades. 73--A Prince of Plotters. 74--The Crook’s Double. 75--For Life and Honor. 76--A Compact With Dazaar. 77--In the Shadow of Dazaar. 78--The Crime of a Money King. 79--Birds of Prey. 80--The Unknown Dead. 81--The Severed Hand. 82--The Terrible Game of Millions. 83--A Dead Man’s Power. 84--The Secrets of an Old House. 85--The Wolf Within. 86--The Yellow Coupon. 87--In the Toils. 88--The Stolen Radium. 89--A Crime in Paradise. 90--Behind Prison Bars. 91--The Blind Man’s Daughter. 92--On the Brink of Ruin. 93--Letter of Fire. 94--The $100,000 Kiss. 95--Outlaws of the Militia. 96--The Opium-Runners. 97--In Record Time. 98--The Wag-Nuk Clew. 99--The Middle Link. 100--The Crystal Maze. 101--A New Serpent in Eden. 102--The Auburn Sensation. 103--A Dying Chance. 104--The Gargoni Girdle. 105--Twice in Jeopardy. 106--The Ghost Launch. 107--Up in the Air. 108--The Girl Prisoner. 109--The Red Plague. 110--The Arson Trust. 111--The King of the Firebugs. 112--“Lifter’s” of the Lofts. 113--French Jimmie and His Forty Thieves. 114--The Death Plot. 115--The Evil Formula. 116--The Blue Button. 117--The Deadly Parallel. 118--The Vivisectionists. 119--The Stolen Brain. 120--An Uncanny Revenge. 121--The Call of Death. 122--The Suicide. 123--Half a Million Ransom. 124--The Girl Kidnapper. 125--The Pirate Yacht. 126--The Crime of the White Hand. 127--Found in the Jungle. 128--Six Men in a Loop. 129--The Jewels of Wat Chang. 130--The Crime in the Tower. 131--The Fatal Message. 132--Broken Bars. 133--Won by Magic. 134--The Secret of Shangore. 135--Straight to the Goal. 136--The Man They Held Back. 137--The Seal of Gijon. 138--The Traitors of the Tropics. 139--The Pressing Peril. 140--The Melting-Pot. 141--The Duplicate Night. 142--The Edge of a Crime. 143--The Sultan’s Pearls. 144--The Clew of the White Collar. 145--An Unsolved Mystery. 146--Paying the Price. 147--On Death’s Trail. 148--The Mark of Cain.

Dated July 17th, 1915.

149--A Network of Crime.

Dated July 24th, 1915.

150--The House of Fear.

Dated July 31st, 1915.

151--The Mystery of the Crossed Needles.

Dated August 7th, 1915.

152--The Forced Crime.

Dated August 14th, 1915.

153--The Doom of Sang Tu.

Dated August 21st, 1915.

154--The Mask of Death.

Dated August 28th, 1915.

155--The Gordon Elopement.

Dated Sept. 4th, 1915.

156--Blood Will Tell.

=PRICE, FIVE CENTS PER COPY.= If you want any back numbers of our weeklies
and cannot procure them from your news dealer, they can be obtained
direct from this office. Postage stamps taken the same as money.

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 79-89 Seventh Ave., NEW YORK CITY