Chapter XXXIX: Back on Park Row

As Lawyer Hands had confidently expected, the grand jury, after considering all the facts pertaining to the _Chronicle’s_ explosion case, refused to find an indictment against Fred Carroll.

As soon as the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ was set free, the Camera Chap accompanied the lawyer back to New York, and received a warm welcome from Managing Editor Paxton and the _Sentinel_ staff.

One of the first persons whom Hawley met after his return was Doctor Hugo Allyne, the eminent specialist, who had ascribed the Camera Chap’s headaches to nervous indigestion, and advised him to go to some quiet spot and take the “rest cure.”

It was on Broadway that Hawley encountered the man of medicine. Although the latter had a good memory for faces, he had some difficulty in recognizing in the ruddy-complexioned, clear-eyed young man who greeted him, the pale, tired patient who had come to his office for advice a few weeks before.

“Well, you’re certainly looking much better,” Doctor Allyne observed, when Hawley had finally succeeded in identifying himself. “You must have carried out my orders with great fidelity. How are the headaches?”

“Haven’t had a single one since I saw you,” the Camera Chap answered. “I’m feeling as fit as a fiddle.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said the specialist, much gratified. “There is nothing like a rest cure for cases such as yours. A few weeks in the clear mountain air, and a careful avoidance of all forms of excitement, will work wonders.”

“They certainly will,” Hawley agreed, trying hard not to grin.

For the next few months the Camera Chap was so busy that he did not have time to go back to Oldham to visit his friend Carroll; but he kept track of what was going on in that town by means of the copies of the _Bulletin_ which the mail brought him each day.

One day, just as he was stepping out of the _Sentinel_ office, on his way to take some snapshots of a society wedding, he almost collided with a tall, broad-shouldered young man who was about to enter.

“Why, hello, Mr. Mayor!” he exclaimed delightedly. “This is indeed a pleasant surprise. What on earth is your honor doing so far away from Oldham?”

The Honorable Fred Carroll, mayor of Oldham, smiled expansively as he gripped the Camera Chap’s hand.

“I’ve come to New York especially to look you up,” he announced. “I have just discovered, old man, that I am even more in your debt than I thought I was.”

As Carroll spoke, he drew from his waistcoat pocket a folded slip of pink paper, and handed it to Hawley.

“Why, what’s this?” exclaimed the latter, feigning great astonishment. “A check for five thousand dollars made out to my order! What is the meaning of this, Mr. Mayor?”

“It means,” replied Carroll, a break in his deep voice, “that I have learned the secret of that five thousand dollars’ worth of advertising which your friend Mr. Cheston brought to the _Bulletin_ at a time when the money was sorely needed. I was suspicious of that advertising from the start, Frank, but it was only yesterday that I learned the truth about it--that it was nothing but a ruse on your part to get me to accept a loan from you. Old man, I shall never forget your kindness. You certainly are the best friend a fellow ever had. You had done so much for me already; then, to cap it all, you went and drew your savings----

“Oh, quit it!” Hawley interrupted gruffly. “For Heaven’s sake, put out the stump speech, Fred. The money was idle in the bank. I had no immediate use for it, and I knew that you had; so it was only logical that I should let you have it until such a time as the _Bulletin_ was making enough money to enable you to pay me back. If that time has now arrived, I’ll accept your check, and we’ll consider the incident closed. But I can’t take half of that amount. Rest assured, I didn’t give all those people free advertising. I made contracts with them through an agency, gave them very low rates, and in a little while I had part of the money back in the bank.”

As Carroll still seemed intent on thanking him, the Camera Chap headed him off by hurriedly changing the subject.

“How is Mrs. Carroll?” he inquired.

“First-rate, thank you. Melba joins me, Frank, in thank----”

“And how are you making out as mayor?”

“Fine! If I do say it myself, I seem to be making a great hit with the people of Oldham. I’ve already put into effect several important reforms. One of them was the repealing of the anticamera ordinance. It’s a different town since the People’s Party succeeded that bunch of grafters who were running things in Henkle’s time. But I say, Frank, I really must express my thanks for----”

“By the way, what has become of Henkle?” the Camera Chap inquired hastily.

“He has retired to private life--says he’s had enough of politics. I shall never forget, old man, what you have done for----”

“And the Gales? Are they still running the _Chronicle_? I understand they escaped being indicted for that bomb conspiracy.”

“Yes,” Carroll answered. “Henkle used all the influence he could wield to save them, and managed to get them whitewashed. Of course, for Melba’s sake, I was mighty glad to have it turn out that way. But they’re not running the _Chronicle_ any more. Old Gale found himself so unpopular as a result of that explosion affair that as soon as he was able to leave the hospital he sold his paper at a ridiculously low figure; sold his house, too, and left town for good.”

“And did his son go with him?”

“Yes. I understand, though, that he’s trying to get back his old job on the New York _Daily News_, so possibly you’ll have the pleasure of seeing him again before long. But I say, Frank, I’ve come all the way from Oldham to tell you how much I appreciate----”

“And how about my old friend Chief Hodgins?” the Camera Chap relentlessly interrupted. “I saw in the _Bulletin_ that you fired him from the force as soon as you were sworn in. What is he doing now?”

Carroll laughed. “He has gone into the hotel business. He’s bought an inn on Main Street, not far from police headquarters. He’s got a big sign in the lobby, just before the clerk’s desk, and it says: ‘No cameras allowed on these premises!’”

THE END.

* * * * *

THE BANK ROBBER.

By HERO STRONG.

I think it was some time in July that she came to Locust Cottage.

It was a house that most ladies would have feared to live in, for its situation was lonely and secluded, and its reputation bad as possible. Some one was murdered there several years before, and such a circumstance is enough to blast the character of any house in the country. In the city they are used to such things, and do not mind them.

Mrs. Leroy did not take a lease of Locust Cottage without knowing what was just said of it. She heard old Granny Coe’s story of the “death lights” that danced past the windows on stormy nights, and listened, with tolerable patience to Peter Jones’ narrative of the immense black dog that had howled at him one night when he was passing the house. Peter was a brave fellow, according to his own estimate, and he averred that he went to the fence and got a stake to make “daylight shine through the sassy cur,” but when he struck at him the dog was not there. There was nothing left to mark the spot where he had stood and growled, except a speck of fire about as big as a dollar; and even that faded away as Peter gazed upon it, and left just nothing at all.

Then there was another story of a fair young girl, with long, flaxen hair, wreathed with water lilies; and this girl sat on the moldy piazza, of wet nights, and sang plaintive airs to an old broken-stringed lute, which, according to all descriptions, must have seen its best days long before.

In a country neighborhood, no one ever forgets anything, and so when the report transpired that Locust Cottage was haunted, every old crone in the vicinity would remember some occurrence which made it very reasonable that it should be haunted.

Captain Fox owned the cottage, and the captain was an extremely conscientious man. In fact, his conscience was a great trouble to him, for he was exceedingly fond of getting the best end of a bargain always, and it seems very unfortunate for such a man to have a conscience. Covetousness and conscientiousness never work well together. They go a great deal better in single harness.

The captain informed Mrs. Leroy that the cottage had the reputation of being inhabited by spirits, and this satisfied his conscientiousness. Then he told her that the people who said so were all irresponsible parties, and that satisfied his covetousness. Mrs. Leroy said it was quite immaterial to her about the spirits. She was not timid about dead people, and forthwith engaged the place.

Locust Cottage was very beautifully located, though it was fully half a mile from any other dwelling. There were locust trees in front, and at the rear of the house quite an extensive pond, where water lilies grew in abundance.

I remember of hearing the ladies of our family speaking about the new arrival, and I concluded that as they did not say anything against her she was some ugly old crone, who wanted to get away by herself and hire a house cheap. It is only young and pretty women who are slandered by their own sex.

I was busy in the village for seven hours of the day, but I went home to tea, and occasionally some lady caller of my mother’s would remark on the pertinacity with which Mrs. Leroy kept herself secluded; but further than that I knew and heard nothing. Neither did I care, for I had never been a lady’s man, and at thirty-eight I was not likely to get up much of an interest for one I had never seen.

I was cashier of the Southbridge Bank, and, as ours was a manufacturing town, our institution did a very flourishing business, and kept one stirring most of the time.

It was a hot day in August, and i sat down for a moment, with a new number of a favorite magazine in my hand. It was so hot, and so near noon, that no one would be in until after dinner, I thought, and i should get a chance to read that article on South America of which there was so much said.

Scarcely, however, had I cut the first leaf before the door opened and a lady entered. As it was a lady, of course I could not do otherwise than bow, and be very polite to her.

She wanted a check cashed. I looked it over. It was New Orleans paper, and made payable to Eudora Leroy, or order.

Ah, thought I, looking at my fair visitor, so the old lady has a pretty daughter; and then I wondered that no one had ever spoken of her.

The face that gleamed on me through the black lace veil was a very beautiful face, though masked somewhat by lines of care or sorrow. Perhaps the old lady was tyrannical.

“Have you an order for the payment of a draft?” I asked.

“None is needed,” she replied quietly. “I will indorse it.” And, taking up a pen, she wrote the name on the back, in a free, graceful hand, Eudora Leroy.

“Then you are Mrs. Leroy?” I said, in some surprise.

“Yes, sir.”

I took a good look at her. She was a brunette, and I have always fancied that style of woman. Some way, they look as if they would wash and wear better than the light style.

Her hair and eyes were very dark; the hair combed loosely, but in these days, when every woman’s hair curls, it is not worth while to mention that fact, I suppose. She had some color, and her expression was sweet in the extreme.

The hand which she had ungloved to indorse the draft was white and shapely, not a hand unused to labor, by any means.

Her age was seven or eight and twenty, I judged; possibly she might be thirty. Faces like hers do not show their age.

After that I saw Mrs. Leroy quite frequently. She came to the bank about once a fortnight, and always on business of this kind. I mean with a check to be cashed. She evidently had plenty of money, so my supposition that she had taken Locust Cottage because the rent was low could not be correct.

Sometimes she would stop a moment in the bank and answer my remarks about the weather, or the news--for I always tried to have something ready to say to her; but generally she seemed in a hurry, and I noticed that she never went into the street, but always started directly for home when she left the bank.

All her marketing was done by a colored woman, a great, strong-looking, sphinx-faced creature, who never spoke an unnecessary word, and never answered any questions.

Mrs. Leroy was a Southerner, so it was probable, and the village concluded, that she had brought the woman from her old home with her.

I think I never told any one that I was getting quite well acquainted with Mrs. Leroy. Somehow, I did not feel as if I wanted to discuss her, or hear her discussed.

I slept at the bank nights, but I always closed at four o’clock and went home to tea. And about eight in the evening I generally returned, and went to bed in a back room adjoining the reception room.

One night in October, just as I was about to close to go home, Mrs. Leroy came in. She seemed very much frightened, and her face paled and flushed alternately.

“I wish to see you alone,” she said, in a low voice. “Lock the outer door, if you please, and then listen to me.”

I did as requested, and then, sinking her voice to a whisper, she went on to tell me of a plot which had been laid by three men to break into the bank that night and rob the vault.

“Mr. Morelle,” she said, in conclusion, “if you had not slept here I confess that I should have done nothing about it, because I risk my life by betraying them. But I heard them say that if you awoke, the only way would be to murder you, and I could not remain idle and suffer any one to be killed.”

“But who are these men, and how did you learn their intentions? And from whom are you in danger?” I asked.

“These are questions I cannot answer. I have warned you, but you must not ask to know too much. Be on your guard. I think, if they discover that you have means of defense they will go away. You will call in some one, will you not?” And my heart beat a little faster as I marked the ill-concealed anxiety of her countenance.

“I will be prepared----”

“Hush!” she said, laying her hand imploringly on my arm. “You must not think of bloodshed! Promise me that you will not! Oh, Mr. Morelle, promise me that you will not kill him, for my sake! I have risked my life for you--now, in return, promise me that there shall be no bloodshed!”

“Who is it that I must not injure?”

“Alas, I cannot tell you! Oh!” she cried, under her breath, “what if I have doomed him to death?”

She evidently had a strong personal interest in one of the robbers, and I felt myself growing nervous and uneasy at the thought. What if one of the villains was her husband? Nothing more likely. One never knows anything about these women who move into out-of-the-way houses and do not join the sewing society, where every one is expected to put her character into the common stock for discussion.

I thanked Mrs. Leroy for coming to me. I promised that, so far as I could prevent it, there should be no bloodshed.

She went away with a sadly depressed air, and I went to call on Mr. Jenkins, the president of the bank. We talked the matter over, though, of course, I could not tell him how I had obtained my information. Then together, we called on Davis and Lucas, two of our most efficient policemen, and it was arranged that I should go home to tea, as usual, return to the bank at my accustomed hour, and admit Davis, Lucas, and Peabody, one of their set, by the back door.

We carried out the program. We were all well armed, and prepared for any emergency. The policemen went to sleep, and I kept watch. About twelve I heard a noise, like the grating of a file, but so dexterously was the instrument handled that for some time I was not sure but the creaking of the heavy shutters had deceived me.

Presently I heard the slightest touch in the world of iron against iron, and then I knew that the strong staple which held the padlock of the south window was being drawn out.

I touched Davis, and in a moment the three men were awake and on the alert.

We let the burglars alone until they were fairly at work picking the locks of the safe, and then we pounced upon them.

They were only two, and we were four; but they were desperate characters, and did not stand bound by any promises not to shed blood.

“Betrayed!” cried one of them, the younger of the two, for the third one had not entered the building, but was standing at the window, outside. “I know who has done it, and I swear by the heavens above us she shall pay dearly for it!”

“Submit quietly,” said Lucas, “and we will not fire on you.”

“Get out of my way!” returned the burglar defiantly, and at the same time he drew a pistol and fired full in Lucas’ face.

He dodged, but the ball grazed his cheek, and the pain made Lucas forget everything else.

Before one of us could lift a finger to stop him, he had dashed the young man against the iron door of the safe, and, by the limp, helpless way in which his head hung down, I knew that his neck was broken.

Lucas eyed his work with grim satisfaction.

“It’s the first one I ever killed outright, but I swear I’d do it again under like circumstances.”

The other burglar submitted without resistance, but the third one was never secured.

There was a coroner’s inquest on the dead body of the young robber, and just in the gray light of the morning Mrs. Leroy forced her way through the crowd to where the corpse lay.

I shall never forget the expression of the face she lifted to mine, so sadly reproachful, so full of unutterable grief.

“You promised me that there should be no murder done!” she said hoarsely.

“I could not help it. What was he to you?” I asked, with an eagerness I could not repress.

“He was my half brother. I had no reason to fear that he would be injured, for, when I heard their plan, it was arranged that he should remain outside and receive the gold. But, still, I had apprehensions for his safety, and that was why I asked you to promise what I did. Take me to him now.”

I led her to his side, and saw her lift his cold head to her bosom and shower kisses on his icy lips.

“Oh, Albert, Albert!” she cried, in agony. “If my life would have saved yours! And to think that it was I who betrayed you to your death!”

Even as she spoke, I felt the strong shudder that shook her frame, and the next moment I received her fainting form in my arms.

I did not care what people said. From the depths of my soul I believed Eudora Leroy was pure and innocent, and she had no protector. So I took it upon myself to care for her. I carried her home, engaged a nurse, and called a physician.

And I am afraid that I answered my lady mother anything but politely when she remonstrated with me on what she called my extraordinary conduct.

But you will want to know about the burglar who was secured alive, and a few words will give the facts regarding him.

His name was Granger. He was from New Orleans, and had known Mrs. Leroy’s brother there. His name was Albert Harper. He was a rash, high-tempered fellow, Granger said, and when in liquor easily influenced.

Granger was tried, and committed for four years, but I think he died before his time was out.

Mrs. Leroy was ill a long time. It was spring before she was able to see any one, and then she sent for me. I had known all along that she would do so, and had been awaiting her summons with nervous anxiety. For I suppose you have already guessed that I loved Eudora Leroy.

She was downstairs, lying on a lounge, when I was shown into her presence, but she arose instantly and took a chair by the window.

Before she spoke I had leisure to observe how much she had changed, and how wan and dejected she was generally. Even her voice had lost much of the silvery ring which I had loved so well to hear.

She began to tell me her little history. I had been kind to her, she said, and she thought it but justice that I should know all she had to tell.

By birth she was a Louisianian. Her father was a wealthy planter, who had been twice married. Albert was the son of his last wife. He had been a difficult child to manage from his birth, and, as he grew older, caused his friends a world of trouble. When he was fifteen, his mother died, committing him to the care of Eudora. She promised the dying woman to use her best influence for his good, and faithfully had the vow been kept. She had followed him into places where it brought a blush to her face to enter, and, vicious as he was, he never refused to go back with her. She had paid his debts--for all the property was left to her at the death of her father--she had borne with all his vices patiently, she had hoped always that he would eventually forsake his evil ways and become the honest, respectable man she desired him to be.

He had become concerned in a disgraceful affair at New Orleans which compelled him to leave the city, and she had settled up her affairs there and come to New England with him.

He was remorseful, and promised her faithfully that if she would take him to some secluded place, where he should never meet Granger again, he would try to reform. Granger had been his bane; but for his baleful influence he would never have sunk to such depths of degradation.

So, full of hope for the future, Eudora had come to Southbridge. She had married, only a year previously, a man much her senior, who had been thrown from his horse and killed only a year after the marriage.

I gathered from Eudora’s manner while speaking of this marriage, that she had never loved her husband, but had become his wife because he loved her, and because his influence was very strong over Albert.

And the idea gave me unqualified satisfaction. You may say it is foolish to be jealous of the dead, but--well, never mind. Most of us are selfish enough to want the entire affections of those we love. We do not care to share a divided interest.

After their coming to Southbridge, Mrs. Leroy said, Albert had become thoroughly changed. He remained in the cottage all the time, engaged in painting, for he was possessed of considerable artistic talent. He would not go out, even for a walk, and thus it had happened that no one knew of his existence.

But Granger found him out at last, and then all hope of his reformation was over.

He brought him brandy, which always made him partially insane, and at such times Eudora’s life was in danger. Albert was kind to her when not under the influence of drink, but brandy made a demon of him. There was nothing too bad for him to do when he was intoxicated. It was while he was having one of those frenzies that the plan to rob the bank was started.

Eudora had refused to furnish him with the money he asked for, and Granger suggested that they should get it at the bank. It was agreed upon, and they made all their calculations at once. A confederate was secured by Granger, and the two men had the boldness to come to Locust Cottage and ask to see Albert.

Eudora dared not refuse them, but, suspecting some villainy, she listened to the interview, and thus became aware of the intended burglary. It was arranged that Granger and Sterling should enter the bank, silence me, if I was disposed to be troublesome, and pass the gold out to Albert.

Eudora said that much as she felt it her duty to warn me, she did not know as she would have had the courage had it not been that she believed, according to their plan, that Albert would be out of danger.

Did she say nothing of her discovery to her brother, do you ask?

She said that she went down on her knees to him, and besought him to give up the mad scheme; and he told her that if she ever lisped another word to him on the matter it should cost her her life.

She was weeping when she finished, but presently she grew calm.

She was going away, she said, as soon as she could arrange for the change, where no one who knew her would ever see her again.

She looked so distant and so cold, when she said so, that she froze the passionate words that sprang to my lips. I rose to take my leave, and she just touched her fingers to the hand I extended, and said good-by as calmly as she would have said good night.

Just outside the door, I discovered that I had left my glove. I went back softly. I saw her holding it to her lips.

The next moment I had her in my arms, and I was telling her, in some unstudied words, that I loved her, and that I would never let her go anywhere.

She was very hard to convince. If I had been less in earnest than I was, I should have lost her; but I threw my whole soul into the work, and by and by she confessed that she did love me; that she had loved me a long time.

After that I did not care for the obstacles she raised. Dear, little, conscientious thing! She thought it would be wicked for her to disgrace me by becoming my wife because her brother had tried to rob a bank.

But I am a very determined man, and I would not let her out of my arms until she promised all I asked of her.

That day month I married her.

People talked about it, but Dora and I were happy enough to be able to afford to let them talk. Probably they felt easier after it.

A SMART BOY.

The power loom was the invention of a farmer’s boy, who had never seen or heard of such a thing. He fashioned one with his penknife, and, when he got it all done, he showed it with great enthusiasm to his father, who at once kicked it all to pieces, saying he would have no boy about him who would spend his time on such foolish things. The boy was sent to a blacksmith to learn a trade, and his master took a lively interest in him.

He made a loom of what was left of the one his father had broken up, and showed it to his master. The blacksmith saw he had no common boy as an apprentice, and that the invention was a valuable one. He had a loom constructed under the supervision of the boy. It worked to their perfect satisfaction, and the blacksmith furnished the means to manufacture the looms, and the boy received half the profits.

In about a year the blacksmith wrote to the boy’s father that he should bring with him a wealthy gentleman, who was the inventor of the celebrated power loom.

You may be able to judge of the astonishment at the old home when his son was presented to him as the inventor, who told him that the loom was the same as the model that he had kicked to pieces the previous year.

A BABOON WITH A BRAIN.

In the Transvaal some of the fruit gardens are much exposed to the ravages of large cynocephalic apes, and a good guard has to be kept, or the results of long labor would be lost. In some of those gardens grow certain shrubs which are much affected by wasps, the insects liking to attach thereto their nests.

These wasps, though small, have a very venomous sting. Baboons had often been noticed eying with envious glances the fast-ripening fruit in one certain garden, but feared to gather for fear of attracting the assaults of the wasps.

One morning the farmer heard terrible cries, and, with the aid of a good field glass he witnessed the following tragedy: A large, venerable baboon, chief of the band, was catching the younger apes and pitching them into the shrubs whereon hung the wasps’ nests. This he repeated again and again, in spite of the most piteous cries from his victims.

Of course, the wasps assumed the defensive in swarms. During this part of the performance the old brute quietly fed on the fruit, deigning occasionally to throw fragmentary remains to some female and young baboons a little farther off.

THE NEWS OF ALL NATIONS.

How Missouri River Lowers Land Surfaces.

The Missouri River carries more silt than any other large river in the United States, except possibly the Rio Grande and the Colorado. It gathers annually from the country that it drains more than 123,000,000 tons of silt and soluble matter, some of which it distributes over the flood plains below to form productive agricultural lands, but most of which finds its way at last to the Gulf of Mexico.

It is by means of data of this kind that geologists compute the rate at which the lands are being worn away. It has been shown the Missouri River is lowering the surface of the land drained by it at the rate of one foot in 6,036 years. The surface of the United States as a whole is now being worn down at the rate of one foot in 9,120 years.

It has been estimated that if this erosive action of the streams of the United States could have been concentrated on the Isthmus of Panama, it would have dug in seventy-three days the canal which has just been completed after ten years’ work, with the most powerful appliances yet devised by man.

Boy’s Life Like Fiction.

Like a romance reads the tale of Benny Wittig, picked up as Eddy Sires by the police several days ago, and the happy climax of the story came in his restoration to his mother, Mrs. Frank Hitchcock, of Peoria, Ill.

The story begins with the death of Judge Wittig, near Latham, Ill., eleven years ago. His wife was sick, and misfortune had followed him, so that all he had was mortgaged and seized for debt. His two sons, Benny, aged six, and Louis, aged nine, were placed in the Lutheran Kinderfreund. Benny was adopted by a family named Sires, while Louis was taken by a family living near Nashville, Ill.

The Sires family went to Kentucky, tired of the boy, and abandoned him in the town of Somerset. The youngster beat his way by hook or crook to the Far West, and his first recollection of places he visited is of Los Angeles, Cal. Afterward he lived for over a year in Salt Lake City, where he attended school. He found other friends in Denver, and attended school there, also. It was while beating his way back to Kentucky to find his supposed parents--Sires--that he happened into Peoria. The police suspected that the handsome seventeen-year-old boy was a runaway, and detained him while investigating.

His story, though it seemed improbable, interested Chief Rhoades, who communicated with the police at Somerset and is awaiting a reply.

Meantime the story got into the city papers, and Mrs. Inez Ware and Miss Josephine Hitchcock, sister and half sister of the boy, called at police headquarters and identified him as Benny Wittig. In the good old storybook way, a scar on his neck established his identity, although the striking resemblance between the ladies and the boy is so great that it alone is convincing.

The mother, Mrs. Wittig, had married Frank Hitchcock and moved to Peoria. She is now partially paralyzed. She had made inquiries and put forth every effort she could to find her boys, and was successful in locating Louis, the eldest, who had led a dog’s life as a bound boy. He had learned that his name was Wittig, and in a Decatur paper had read of the marriage of a Mrs. Wittig and Hitchcock. He wrote to her on the chance of her being his mother, and their relationship was established. He now conducts a prosperous garage.

Benny is now seventeen years old. He has been a wanderer for nine of the intervening years since his father’s death, and the chain of happenings that have restored him to his mother is one that is read of in works of fiction, but seldom in real life.

Red and Green Light Tests.

It is strange how the color of a light makes it more or less visible, irrespective of its actual brilliancy. To test this, place two lights of the same color--two candles of the same size will do--in two tin boxes, and in each box perforate a pinhole. Cover one pinhole with green glass and one with red, and place them in a perfectly dark room.

To a normal person the green light will appear five times brighter when viewed obliquely than when viewed directly, but the red light behaves in the opposite way. Most people will pick up the green light when looking in some other direction and will be quite conscious of its presence, but when they turn their eyes directly toward it, they will not see it at all. The faint red light, on the other hand, will not be noticed at all until looked at directly, then it appears quite bright, but the instant the eyes are turned away from it it is gone.

New Mosquito Eradicator.

A genius of Jackson, Miss., has invented an electric motor which is to act as a mosquito exterminator. His plan is to have his motor revolve at just the right speed to make a humming noise like that of buzzing mosquitoes. That attracts all the insects in the neighborhood, and, as the motor is surrounded with a metal screen, charged with a powerful current, the mosquitoes alighting on it are instantly electrocuted.

Nonskid Banana Peel Discovered.

According to a news item wired from San Francisco, we are soon to have with us what one writer calls “the nonskid banana peel.” The edible interior remains about the same as the ordinary kind, we are told, but the new covering presents a new boon to humanity that should make its discoverer famous, if not wealthy. The genius who is said to be able to produce a nice large banana with a coat like sandpaper is one Frederick Boegle, employed at the Burbank experiment farm near Hayward, Cal.

The discoverer of the so-called “nonskid peel,” as a casing for the delectable contents guaranteed to be found inside, explains that the new fruit was obtained by crossing the ordinary banana with the cactus pear. Boegle says the new fruit has the usual delicious taste of banana, but that the peeling may be dropped on the sidewalk with perfect safety to pedestrians.

If this is the precise case, then the peeling must be “nonskid” on the inside as well as the outer, but this is not to be considered, says a _Blade_ expert, as it is contrary to all horticultural laws, past or present. Therefore, he says, if the “nonskid peel” happens to be dropped with the “nonskid” side downward, then the same old, treacherous, greasy, deadly, never-failing, calamitous thing will no doubt bring down its victims as it has always done since the Duke of Plazzatora, away back in the days and voyages of Christopher Columbus, discovered the banana and also that by craftily laying a strip of its covering in the way of Don Frijolo de Mountebank, he could rid himself of a powerful rival and thus get closer to the new world’s discoverer as well as to the beautiful and charming Donna Isabella de Mendoza, back there in Spain.

But time will tell.

Boy Banjoist, Local Wonder.

Little Victor Vanover is the champion banjoist of the “neck o’ the woods” at Freeling, Va. Though Victor is a mere midget, and has passed only his seventh milepost on the road of life, he can handle his banjo with all the grace and dexterity that ordinarily comes through years of practice, and, what is more to the young musician’s credit, he takes up the instrument in a perfectly natural way, and without any apparent desire to “show off,” and he is well aware of both his powers and limitations.

Victor began to practice at the age of five with a natural aptitude, and now he can “pick” any tune that he has ever heard, and that, too, with a clearness that would almost put to shame many professional banjoists.

Among the tunes that he can pick may be mentioned: “Cumberland Gap,” “Old Joe Clark,” “Casey Jones,” “The Blind Coon Dog,” “The Ship That Never Returned,” “Sourwood Mountain,” “The Gambling Man,” “New River Train,” and “Walking in the Parlor.”

Quicksand Devours Big Plant.

Three laborers were killed and eight injured as they fled in terror to solid earth when quicksand devoured the big plant and three surrounding acres of land of the Knickerbocker Cement Co., at Greenport, not far from Hudson, N. Y. Here is a list of what was swallowed by the vortex:

A large power house.

An eighty-foot concrete smokestack.

A concrete storehouse.

A large frame barn which held three horses and an automobile, all of which were buried.

A huge quantity of material, including forty thousand tons of trap rock.

Nick Altrock a Laugh Maker.

Nick Altrock, who, since the departure of Arlie Latham and “Germany” Schaeffer for other fields, is the only diamond clown remaining with the main show, forced a big laugh in the frolic between the Yanks and the Senators in New York not long ago, when an injury to a player threatened to cast a gloom over the festivities.

Fisher and several other Yankees started to run Shanks down between second and third, and the pitcher finally dashed up behind the runner and slammed him on the back with the clenched ball. The pellet happened to strike Shanks on the spine, and he crumpled up and dropped in his tracks.

As he was being revived, and the spectators were on tiptoes to know the extent of his hurt, Nick rushed upon the field, hit himself on the head, and pretended to fall unconscious. He picked himself up when his teammate revived, and staggered toward the bench with him. The performance broke the strain, made everybody laugh, and both Senators were cheered throughout the stands.

Summer and Winter Butter.

Scientific experiments have demonstrated that, contrary to the general belief, the yellow color of cream and butter is not necessarily an indication of their richness. It was discovered long ago that most vegetable matter contains a yellow substance called carotin, because it exists abundantly in carrots.

It is this substance contained in the cow’s feed that gives rise to the color of milk and butter. Carotin is most abundant in the green forage available in spring and summer so that milk and butter produced then are more yellow than in the winter, although the percentage of fat in winter milk often is actually higher than in the rich-looking product obtained in summer.

Lightning Throws Bugler.

Lightning struck the projecting room of a motion-picture show in the brigade camp of the Sixth United States Infantry, at Douglas, Ariz., during a recent violent electrical storm. The bolt was deflected into the officers’ section, throwing several of them down. Musician Greenspan was hit while in the act of blowing taps. He was thrown several feet, his head finally resting in a bucket of tar. His bugle was destroyed.

Bitten by Huge Water Snake.

Emil Nichau, an assistant in the office of City Engineer Wager, at Sandusky, Ohio, was bitten three times on the right hand by a large water snake while he was gathering lilies in the Black Channel section, between Cedar Point and West Huron. While he was quite sick for some time, he had fully recovered a few hours later.

The snake was killed. It measured fifty-two inches in length and nine and one-half inches in circumference at the thickest part of its body.

Can’t Stop This Swimmer.

Incased in a straitjacket and carrying fifteen pounds of iron chain as a sort of extra ballast, Henry Elionsky swam from the Battery, New York, to Bay Ridge. The distance was about five miles and the time was two hours and forty minutes.

Elionsky was helped by the rushing tide. He had several narrow escapes from the harbor craft, and once a tugboat came within thirty feet of running him down.

Robber Chief Gets Twenty-five Years.

Henry Starr, of Chandler, Okla., pleaded guilty to bank robbery in the district court, and was sentenced to twenty-five years in the penitentiary. He was charged with the robbery of two banks at Stroud, Okla., into which he led his gang last March and took five thousand dollars. Starr was wounded and four of his men--Claude Sawyer, “Bud” Maxfield, Charles Johnson, and Louis Estes--were captured.

Starr’s life has been full of action. He has made rich hauls in bank, robberies, engaged in the looting of trains, battled with posses seeking to arrest him, aided in quelling a jail outbreak, and unsuccessfully tried to reform following a pardon by President Roosevelt in 1903.

Highway Built in One Day.

When ten thousand volunteer workers, engaged in the construction of an interstate highway between Paducah, Ky., and Memphis, Tenn., laid down their picks at six o’clock at night, they had completed, in its most important details, the entire roadway for 150 miles.

To put the finishing touches to that section of the road from Paducah to the Kentucky State line, work was continued the next day. Congressmen, judges, city and county officials along the line of the highway were among the most active workers. Dinner was served by the women of the various cities and towns along the route.

Joe Shugrue’s Eyes Better.

Joe Shugrue, the Jersey City lightweight boxer, recovered his sight and will go on the stage. He made up his mind that he might as well use his dramatic talent while he gives his eyes plenty of time to recover from the operation performed on them some months ago.

Sees Black Cat is Injured.

Black-cat superstition has been thoroughly confirmed, for, when James Jensen, of St. Paul, Minn., was bowling down the residence district on a motor cycle, a black cat crossed just in front of him. One moment later he crashed into the rear of Ed Fisher’s automobile.

Police and physicians are caring for Jensen, and he is going to look for the cat.

Polecat is Basely Libeled.

Some one has said that the polecat never takes a bath, and that he is afraid of water. He is wrong, and Doctor D. O. Norton, of Fort Collins, Col., is ready to prove the assertion. He recently returned from a fishing trip in North Park, where he tempted the rainbow in the Platte.

One morning his attention was attracted to six young animals which were playing on a sand bar a short distance away. A careful observation disclosed that they were of the genus skunk.

With “safety first” uppermost in his mind, the doctor crawled cautiously to a point of vantage, from which he could watch the animals more closely, and declares that after they had apparently tired of play, all six ran to the water and swam out into the swift current as though they had been so many ducks.

Trouble with His Turtles.

Chickens come home to roost, and so do turtles. A few days ago there were eight turtles in the basin around the fountain in the center of Commercial Park, at Columbus, Ind. A big snapping turtle declared war on the fish in the basin. The turtle killed a three-pound bass, and the little turtles “chewed up” several sunfish. Then Preston Shaw, park custodian, fished out the turtles, gave each of them a swift kick, and told them never to return.

Interval of several days to change reels.

Then came one of the exiled turtles, snooping around the wall that surrounds the basin, and saw no welcome sign. But that made no difference to the turtle. It finally scaled the wall, dropped into the water with a contented “plunk,” and was home again. However, the custodian found the turtle before it had time to take a nap. He yanked it out, gave it two swift kicks this time, and threatened to use harsh words if it comes back again.

Lineman Battles Big Eagle.

Walter B. Sutton, of Bridgeton, N. J., a telephone lineman, while at work on a pole in the country near here, was attacked by a large eagle. Sutton saw the bird coming, and, as it swooped, he withdrew his hooks and quickly slid to the ground. The eagle followed and attacked him savagely.

Sutton had only his bare hands to defend himself and beat off the bird as best he could until finding a large stone, with which he was able to stun the bird with a well-directed blow. Grasping it by the neck, he choked it until it was helpless, and, taking it to his automobile, wired it fast, so that he could handle it safely.

He brought the big bird to his home, and now has it in a coop. It measures seven feet from tip to tip.

Blind Telephone Operator.

Despite total blindness, K. S. Thompson, of Erie, Ill., is an efficient telephone operator. He says it is much easier for him to hold his position than it was for him to get it in the first place, the telephone company having been doubtful as to his ability to make good.

Thompson overcomes his handicap by a very keen sense of hearing and by some added touches to his exchange equipment. In “plugging in” he depends upon brass points along a special designation strip. Sense of touch makes it possible for him to perceive which line he is plugging in on, and it is said that he makes fewer mistakes than are made by the usual full-visioned operator.

The blind operator takes much interest in his work and is constantly striving to improve his service.

No Border for United States Flag.

The recent display of an American flag with a white border around it, by a society at Fort Dodge, Iowa, promoting world peace, caused Attorney General Cosson to issue instructions to the Fort Dodge authorities to take action if the display is repeated.

Attorney General Cosson instructed the Fort Dodge authorities to invoke the law against mutilation of the flag, if it became necessary.

Birthday Party for a Horse.

Mrs. M. K. Grant, one of the wealthiest women in Wilmington, Del., gave a party in honor of the fourteenth birthday of her pet carriage horse, Prince Grant. The affair took place in the stable, where a luncheon was served to the stablemen, the household servants of the Grant family being at their command. An orchestra furnished music.

The horse, a roan gelding, with a trotting record of 2:23¼ has been in possession of Mrs. Grant since it was a colt. Prince Grant shared in the celebration to the extent of eating four plates of ice cream, six pieces of cake, and a box of candy. He was gayly decorated with ribbons.

Every year, since the horse was three years old, Mrs. Grant has celebrated his birthday.

Boy Adopted by Nine Mothers.

Every one has heard of a cat with nine lives. But did any one ever hear of a boy with nine mothers?

Los Angeles has one. His name is Charles Fulmer. Here’s the why and wherefore:

Fulmer recently finished Manual Arts High School. His teachers say they can see in him the budding genius who will, some day, give to the world great, new discoveries in medicine and surgery.

But he has none other than himself to whom to look, or he didn’t have until the City Mothers of Los Angeles--nine of ’em--adopted him.

City Mother Mrs. Bret Harte Harris, one of the nine, is so sure their protégé is worth troubling about, she has voluntarily set about seeking a position for him that will help him to secure the wherewithal and the time to pursue his studies. All the other City Mothers are lending first aid.

This adoption scheme is just one of a thousand humanitarian acts which the City Mothers’ bureau of Los Angeles has put into effect in its effort to aid the young people of the city in any way within its power.

Conductor Fights Hobos.

This is the story of how L. G. Moyer, conductor, of Fairbury, Neb., cleaned up a bunch of hobos and compelled several of them to seek local physicians for repairs:

When Passenger No. 8 pulled out for the East, probably fifty “sons of rest” attempted to ride out, but part of them were forced to get off while the others hid and made their get-away. The first section of ninety-four, of which Moyer was conductor, was due out for Council Bluffs at six o’clock, but did not start until eleven o’clock.

About twenty-five hobos got in a box car. The train stopped at the main-line switch, and Moyer got in the car and ordered the tramps out. They offered resistance, and he cleaned up the bunch with an iron brake rod in a very short time.

The tramps had given the train crews all kinds of grief recently. Every outgoing crew has had trouble ridding the train from ten to one hundred of these passengers. This last bunch are bitter toward Moyer, and declare they will remain here until they kill him.

Takes Hikes Barefooted.

Eugene Willard, of Chelsea, Mass., easily is the champion barefoot walker of the United States. A dozen years ago Willard decided to take up barefoot pedestrianism as a pastime, and has kept at it ever since. Of course, he occasionally gets out his shoes, brushes off the dust which has accumulated on them, and puts them on, but he doesn’t keep them on any longer than is absolutely necessary.

“Barefoot Gene,” as he is known in his home city, has made some long barefoot walks. One of those was between Philadelphia, Pa., and St. Louis, Mo., and at another time he covered the entire distance between Savannah, Ga., and Tampa, Fla. He has under consideration a barefoot walk between Boston, Mass., and El Paso, Texas.

In Prison Twenty-one Years, Weds.

After serving twenty-one years in the Joliet Penitentiary, William Roach, paroled last week, is on his honeymoon. Roach was sent up for murder. Toward the latter part of his sentence he became a “trusty.” As trusty he was allowed to visit the town. On one of his visits he met Hannah Edwards, who worked in the restaurant owned by her mother, Mrs. William Edwards.

Although Roach never knew that he would be free, he was unable to keep from falling in love. Once a week he saw Hannah, and then the authorities decided that he had been in prison long enough. Roach was paroled. He came back to Chicago, and went to his old home in Wilmette. And then he returned to Joliet for Hannah. They were married by the Reverend T. de Witt Tanner.

Shot Stealing Bread for Starving Family.

Shot twice through the body as he was attempting to steal a loaf of bread from the rear gallery of the home of Joseph Haseman, John Reou, of New Orleans, La., was rushed to the Charity Hospital. From his hospital cot he explained the motive for the attempted theft.

“My eight children were crying all night for food,” he said. “I listened to their sobs until I could not bear their suffering any longer. So I went out to steal them a loaf of bread.”

Haseman, who is a street-car conductor, did the shooting. He has been arrested. The police say the case is the most pitiful that has come under their notice in several years. The charge against Reou will probably be dropped.

One of the bullets Haseman fired at the father of eight hungry children struck him in the right arm and another in the left side. Neither of the wounds is considered serious.

Reou, now broken in health and spirits, married twenty-one years ago. He has always borne a good reputation, which is vouched for by several members of the police department who know him and by friends and former employers. Recently he lost his position as a clerk in a grocery store because his eyesight was failing and his health was broken. He tried many times to get work, and failed. Gradually the small sum saved by him and his wife was gone.

His oldest daughter, Julia, aged twenty, got a position which pays her six dollars a week. Charles, his oldest son, aged sixteen, took a position as office boy, and earns two and one-half dollars a week. Olivia, another daughter, aged twelve, receives a half dollar a week for helping a dressmaker. The house they live in costs them twelve dollars per month.

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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--Tn 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 Tiheves. 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 Band. 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