Chapter XVIII: Life in Skookum John's Camp (1)

Skookum John, which in Chinook means "Strong John," was a Makah, or Neah Bay, Indian, whose home was at Cape Flattery on the shore of the Pacific, and at the southern side of the entrance to the superb strait of Juan de Fuca. He was a _Tyhee_, or chief, among his people, for he was not only their biggest man, being a trifle over six feet tall, while very few of his tribe exceeded five feet nine inches in height, but he was the boldest and most successful hunter of whales among them. This alone would have given him high rank in the tribe, for to them the whales that frequent the warm waters of that coast are what buffalo were to the Indians of the great plains.

The Makahs are fish-eaters, and while they catch and dry or smoke quantities of salmon, halibut, and cod, they esteem the whale more than all others, because there is so much of him, because he is so good to eat, and because he furnishes them with the oil which they use on all their food, as we use butter, and which they trade for nearly every other necessity of their simple life.

The big Siwash, being an expert whaleman, had much oil to trade, and made frequent visits to Victoria for this purpose. Here, being an intelligent man and keenly noting all that he saw, he learned much concerning the whites and their ways, besides picking up a fair knowledge of their language.

So it happened that when the smugglers who proposed to operate in the upper sound began to cast about for some trustworthy person, who would also be free from suspicion, to look out for their interests in that section, and keep them posted as to the whereabouts of cutters, they very wisely selected Skookum John, and offered him inducements that he could not afford to refuse. He, of course, knew nothing of the laws they proposed to violate, nor did he care, for political economy had never been included in Skookum John's studies.

So the Makah Tyhee closed his substantial house of hewn planks on Neah Bay, and with all his wives and children--of whom Bah-die was the eldest and little Nittitan the youngest--and his dogs and canoes, and much whale oil, and many mats, he made the long journey to the place in which we find him. Here he established a summer camp of brush huts, and ostensibly went into the business of fishing for the Tacoma market. He had brought his big whaling-canoe, and the little paddling canoes in which his children were accustomed to brave the Pacific breakers apparently for the fun of being rolled over and over in the surf. Above all, he had brought a light sailing-canoe which was fashioned with such skill that its equal for speed and weatherly qualities had never been seen among canoes of its size on the coast. It was in this swift craft that he darted about the sound at night to discover the movements of revenue-men, watch for signals from incoming smugglers, and flash in return the lights that told of safety or danger.

Although not possessed of a high sense of honor, Skookum John was loyal to his employers, because it paid him to be so, and because no one had ever tempted him to be otherwise. At the same time he was not above performing a service for the other side, provided it would also pay, and so he did not hesitate to promise the cutter's third Lieutenant that in return for twenty-five dollars he would use every effort to find and return to him two lost boys.

When he did learn of the capture of the sloop (a blow that threatened to retire him from business), and the reason why the revenue-men were so desirous of finding the lost boys, he began to wish that he saw his way clear to the winning of that reward, for twenty-five dollars is a large sum to be made so easily. But the revenue-men wanted _two_ boys, and the only other besides Bonny at present available was the young medicine-man, the _hyas doctin_, who had not only found his dearly loved Nittitan in the dark _hyas stick_ (forest), but had so marvellously mended what he firmly believed to have been a broken leg.

The old Siwash, therefore, determined to make the boys as comfortable as possible, and keep them with him until he could communicate with the _Tyhee_ of the _piah-ship_ (steamer).

In consequence of these reflections, all of which passed through the Indian's mind in the space of a few seconds, Bonny had no time to make a request for food before the very best that the camp afforded was placed before them. There were small square chunks of whale-skin, as black and tough as the heel of a rubber boot. It was expected that these would be chewed for a moment, until the impossibility of masticating them was discovered, and that they would then be swallowed whole. After them came boiled fishes' heads, of which the eyes were considered the chief delicacy, and these were followed by several kinds of dried and smoked fish, including salmon and halibut, besides bits of smoked whale looking like so many pieces of dried citron. All of these were to be dipped in hot whale oil before being eaten.

Then came another course of fish, this time fresh and plain boiled, which the Indians ate with a liberal supply of whale oil. Their boiled potatoes were also dipped in oil after each bite. The crowning glory of the feast was a small quantity of hard bread, which for a change was dipped in whale oil and eaten dripping, and with this was served a mixture of huckleberries and oil beaten to a paste.

In regard to this liberal use of oil it must be said that Skookum John's whale oil was universally acknowledged to be the sweetest and most skilfully prepared to prevent rancidity of any in the Neah Bay village, and his family regarded it with the same pride that the proprietors of the best Orange County dairy do the finest products of their churn. It was therefore a great disappointment to them that Alaric did not appreciate it, and after trying a small quantity on a bit of potato, refused a further supply. He even seemed to prefer paté de foie gras, of which the boys had a single jar. This he opened in honor of the occasion, and with it to spread over his bread and potatoes, a liberal helping of the boiled fish, and an innumerable number of smoked halibut strips boiled after a manner taught him by Bonny, the millionaire's son made a supper that he declared was one of the very best he had ever eaten.

In order that their new-found friends might not feel too badly over Alaric's refusal to partake more liberally of their whale oil, Bonny gave them to understand that it was not because he disliked it, but not being accustomed to rich food, he was afraid of making himself ill if he indulged in it too freely.

At this meal the young sailor tasted both paté de foie gras and whale oil for the first time, and after carefully considering the merits of the two delicacies, declared that he could not tell which was the worse, and that as it would be just as difficult to learn to like one as the other, he thought he would devote his energies to the oil.

After supper a rude shelter against the chill dampness of the night was constructed of small poles covered with a number of the useful bark mats, of which the Indian women of that coast make enormous quantities. A few armfuls of spruce-tips were cut and spread beneath it, a couple of mats were laid over these, two more were provided for covering, and Alaric's first camp bed was ready for him. Both lads were so dead tired that they needed no second invitation to fling themselves down on their sweet-scented couch, and were asleep almost instantly. As Skookum John and Bah-die had also been out all the night before, they were not long in following the example of their guests, and so within an hour after supper the whole camp was buried in a profound slumber.

By earliest daylight of the next morning the older Indian was up, and stirring about very softly so as not to awaken the strangers. He was about to make an effort to earn that twenty-five dollars, and believed that by careful management it might be his before noon. He planned to notify the commander of the cutter that while he could deliver one of the desired lads into his Lands, the other had taken a canoe and gone to Tacoma, where he could no doubt be readily found. If the _Tyhee_ of the _piah-ship_ agreed to pay him the offered reward or even half of it for one lad, he would ask that a boat might be sent to the camp for him. In the mean time he would return first and invite both boys to go out fishing. Bonny in a canoe with him, and the other in a second canoe with Bah-die, who would be instructed to take his passenger out of sight, somewhere up the coast. Then the cutter's boat would be allowed to overtake his canoe, and Bonny could be handed over to those who wanted him without any trouble.

It was an admirably conceived plan, and the old Siwash chuckled over it as he softly launched his lightest canoe, stepped into it, and paddled swiftly away.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

EXPLORING NEW-FOUND RIVERS.

BY C. C. ADAMS

Some of the leading African explorers have never written a book. They have had other work besides exploration, and have been too busy to write long accounts of their discoveries. A single copy of this paper would hold all that Alexander Delcommune, who has travelled further in the Congo basin than any other explorer, has written about his work. Captain Van Gele, who has had remarkable experiences, and who took the last step in the solution of a great geographical conundrum--the destination of Schweinfurth's "Welle" river--has written very little. But we know what all these men have done. Every new map of Africa that is worth anything differs from all its predecessors, because it contains later and better information. These men have done much to change and improve the maps, and their short reports to geographical and other societies have been very interesting and important.

Foremost among these men is George Grenfell, of the Baptist Missionary Society of England, whose travels in 1884-5 gave us our first knowledge of six of the largest Congo tributaries. Many thousands of black people in the middle Congo basin first learned of the white man when they saw Grenfell pushing up their rivers on his little steamboat. He travelled for over three thousand miles on the Congo and its tributaries, and always as a man of peace, winning the confidence of barbarous tribes by patience and kindness. He never shed a drop of blood nor laid violent hands upon a native. How much better was this policy than to respond with violence to the mistrust and opposition of these frightened and savage peoples.

Mr. Grenfell's steel steamer _Peace_ was built in England, and when she was shipped to the Congo all her plates and pieces of machinery were taken apart and packed into eight hundred loads; for every bit of the vessel had to be carried on the backs of men around two hundred and thirty-five miles of cataracts to Stanley Pool, where the long caravan of black porters arrived without losing a load. Another Congo steamboat was not so fortunate, for its brass fittings were stolen while in transit, and transformed into neck ornaments for native women. It has been said that a pioneer in Africa should be able to build a boat or a house without a nail or a tool. Grenfell seems to be that kind of man. The engineers who had been sent to put the _Peace_ together died of fever; so Grenfell trained natives in the art of riveting, and with their aid he put the eight hundred pieces together. When the _Peace_ was launched there was not a leak. All of the parts had been placed where they belonged. She was seventy feet long, and under her wooden roof were a cabin and cook-room, with an engine amidships. Her twin screws drove her ten miles an hour, and in all respects she was well fitted for her work. So in 1884 Mr. Grenfell and his wife, with a crew of fifteen natives, set out to find favorable points for mission stations on the great unexplored tributaries that stretch away hundreds of miles north and south of the middle Congo.

We cannot describe here all the discoveries Grenfell made. He greatly changed our notions of the extent, direction, and importance of quite a number of rivers, chief among which were the Mobangi and Mongala north of the Congo, and the Bussera, Chuapa, Lulonga, and Lomami south of it. You may easily find these large rivers on the map, and they are Grenfell's greatest contribution to our knowledge of Africa.

Most of the tribes whom Grenfell met live away from the Congo, and had never heard of the world outside the districts they occupy. We can scarcely imagine the astonishment and even terror which the white man and his puffing river monster inspired as the _Peace_ would suddenly round some river bend and pause at a village front. The natives did not always flee nor offer hostilities at once. Many stood motionless, as if rooted to the spot, with straining eyes, and hands over their wide-open mouths, a common practice among savages when they are greatly surprised. If one fled he was speedily followed by others. If one gathered his wits and began to poise his spear or bend his bow, others followed his example. Once a woman fell in spasms to the ground. One day, on the Ruki River, Grenfell surprised a party of fifty fisherwomen, who took one look at the wheezing _Peace_, and then sprang shrieking out of their boats, and swam, as a dog does, to the shore. A large crowd of men on an island in the Bussera saw the apparition, and rushed pell-mell for their boats, forgetting their paddles in their fright; and so, with frantic energy, they used their hands as paddles in their flight to the mainland. Grenfell was accompanied by the German explorer Von François on his ascent of some of the southern rivers, and sometimes the natives thought their white visitors came from the spirit world, and called to them, "We fear you because you are white ghosts."

On all such occasions there was nothing to do except to wait for the excitement to subside, very quietly displaying presents of beads, wire, and cloth, while anchored at a distance from the shore. Grenfell's interpreter would strain his lungs with shouting words of soothing and friendship. Sometimes he would cry "Ba, ba, ba," to indicate that he wished to buy goats, and he would exhibit trade goods to pay for them. On some island, in the night, while alarm drums were arousing the country for miles along the banks, Grenfell would kindle fires, and in the bright light display his presents to the best advantage. Once while a howling crowd were bending their bows, the _Peace_ was sent at full speed within a rod of the shore, and a cloth full of beads and cowrie-shells was thrown among them. Before the astounded natives had recovered their wits, the _Peace_ was again in mid-stream beyond the reach of arrows. This set the savages thinking, and they listened quietly when Grenfell shouted that he wished to buy fire-wood. They filled a canoe with wood, and tying to the boat a long rope made of vines, let it drift down stream to the steamer, where the canoe was emptied, and the beads which the explorers placed in it were hauled back to the shore. The ice was broken now, weapons were laid aside, and soon a dozen canoes pushed out from the shore with natives having wood or provisions to sell.

All of Grenfell's blandishments failed sometimes, and he was fiercely attacked. Only one instance is recorded where he fired a gun, and then it contained only a blank cartridge. He proved the efficacy of unusual noises, for the explosion, reverberating along the forest-lined shores, sent the enemy scampering. A blast from the whistle was sometimes enough to turn pursuing canoes about face. The explorer did everything possible to protect his men, and not one of them was hurt. Wire netting completely covered the open sides of the vessel and caught many flying missiles, while others lodged in the wooden roof. A few natives in one village on the Bussera appeared to have seen or heard of guns, for Grenfell was much surprised when the very friendly people told him that they had intended to attack the vessel until they saw his firearms. One village that had accepted the explorer's presents on his ascent of the river, attacked him on his return because the river had risen meantime, a most uncommon thing at that season, they said, and ample proof that the white man was bad. The explorer found himself in a predicament on the last day he spent upon the Bussera, but Mrs. Grenfell helped him out of it. While the _Peace_ was in shore, a party of warriors rushed to the bank with their weapons all ready to launch. In a moment Mrs. Grenfell had thrown among them a double handful of beads, and while the crowd were scrambling and fighting for the prizes, the _Peace_ reached a safe distance. Usually an hour or two of waiting and conciliatory talk turned foes into friends. Sometimes, however, the alarm drums would notify the villages for miles around that an enemy was coming; and when Grenfell saw a throng of armed warriors waiting for him, and not a woman on the ground, he knew that trouble was brewing.

Geographical information imparted by the natives was apt to be wholly incorrect. They had ready answers for all questions, but if they imagined Grenfell would like to hear of a lake a little inland, or five days more of navigation up the river, they would make replies which they thought would please him, regardless of truth. This is a widespread practice among savages. At the same time they were often eager to learn of his discoveries. They would ask him how many days' journey his vessel made above their village, and whether the natives he met dealt in ivory and slaves. Some tribes had not the slightest idea that ivory had any value, and thought it strange that any man should have occasion to buy wood. Some of them had no names for the rivers where they live. They were children of the earth, they said, and if he wished to know the names of the rivers he must ask the children of the water. The southern tributaries--Bussera, Chuapa, and Lulonga--are in the great belt of dense Congo forest, and in the upper reaches of the rivers the big branches form a complete roof over the streams, which are in deep shadow even on the brightest days; and in this roof Grenfell found some of his most persistent enemies. They were the little folks of Africa, the pygmies, who would clamber out on the branches overhanging the streams, and shoot their poisoned arrows into the wooden covering of the vessel.

It was Grenfell who gave us our first positive information of the many dwarfs who live in the forest south of the Congo, though about the same time other explorers discovered them further south. One evening a canoe drew up at some distance from the _Peace_, and when the interpreter asked the natives who they were they said they were Batwa. This is the name of the dwarfs living in the southern Congo forests, and Grenfell and Von François were overjoyed at the prospect of seeing them. It was now so dark that they could not determine what the canoemen looked like, but in the morning they found near by a cluster of huts inhabited by these little people, and then they knew they were in the land of the pygmies. Grenfell found many dwarfs on the Lomami, Chuapa, and Bussera rivers, and they proved to be the most troublesome and vindictive people with whom he had to deal. His black crew were badly frightened when they heard the dwarfs were near. All their lives they had been told that the dwarfs were most unpleasant people to meet. It was common report that they shot with poisoned arrows, permitted no one to live in their country, and excelled all warriors and hunters in skill with the bow and spear. We shall see later what Grenfell and other explorers have learned about these strange and interesting people, and also about the cannibals who are spread so widely over the Congo basin. Very little was known of the cannibals as long as explorers kept to the main river, but after Grenfell began his work along the tributaries the world soon came to know the appalling extent of this evil.

Nearly all the tribes discovered by Grenfell are cannibals. An interpreter whom he took with him from the Congo was in constant fear of being captured and eaten, and he would never venture ashore except in company with six or eight comrades: "You eat goats and hens," said some natives to Grenfell one day, "because you are rich and able to buy them; but we are poor, and have to eat men, whom we can get for nothing." Under the laws of the Congo State it is now a capital crime to eat human flesh. Wherever the influence of the white man extends, the practice is being discontinued, and some day this stigma upon human nature will disappear from all the parts of Africa where it has so long prevailed.

There are missionary stations now in some parts of the large regions that Grenfell traversed. His peaceful and friendly methods made it easy for other white men to go among the people he brought to light. The natives who sought to kill him are now glad to sell ivory and rubber to traders. His discoveries during fifteen months added about one thousand eight hundred miles to the known navigable waters of the Congo basin. No one except Stanley has surpassed him in the extent and value of his work among the waterways of the second largest river system in the world.

AN HOUR IN BICYCLELAND.

WITH AN ACCOUNT OF A PNEUMATIC CIRCUS.

BY HAYDEN CARRUTH.

I.

Kenneth had got his bicycle at last, and he was taking his first long ride on it. It was warm, and the road seemed to be all up hill. "If this road keeps on like this much longer," said Kenneth to himself, "I'll run into the moon. I guess papa was right when he said that bicycle-riding reminds him a good deal of work in its milder stages. However, I'd rather ride than work."

He went on a little farther, but the afternoon sun shone down hotter and hotter, and the road still seemed to have more uphill than a well-behaved road ought to have. After a while he came to a fine grove of trees. "I think I'll just turn in here and rest a few minutes, and then go back," said Kenneth. "Seems to me I ought to be able to coast about three-quarters of the way home--unless the road tilts the other way before I start, like a seesaw," he went on. He trundled his wheel into the grove out of sight of the road, stood it against a big tree, and lay down on the soft grass-covered ground in the shade.

"It seems to me," he mused, "that bicycles ought to be made so they would run themselves like--like--like horses. Then hills wouldn't make any difference." He was speaking very slowly, and half wondering if talking wasn't work too. "Then it wouldn't make any difference if the road _did_ tilt up or--or--or turn sommersaults if it wanted to. Just think of a road ten miles long turning a sommersault." He laughed a little at the idea, but _that_ was work too. "I--I wonder if bicycles couldn't be--be trained to--to--." It really was _too_ hard work to talk. He hadn't noticed that another wheelman had come into the grove to rest, and left his bicycle by the same tree.

"Trained to do what?" said the other, who was enough bigger than Kenneth to be a young man. "To talk like a parrot, or to sit up and beg like a pug-dog?"

Kenneth laughed at the idea of a bicycle sitting up and hanging down its handle-bar and begging; and then he answered:

"Oh, no; just to go themselves, you know." The presence of the stranger seemed to revive him, so he sat up and looked at the other.

"Oh, shucks!" said the young man. "Trained to go themselves! Where did you come from?"

"Smithville," replied Kenneth.

"Thought so," answered the other. "You're in Bicycle-land now, where they _are_ trained to go themselves. Come here!" he said, snapping his finger at his wheel, which rolled over and stopped by his side. "That's the way we have 'em trained here."

"Well, that's what I meant," returned Kenneth, not liking the lofty tone of the other very well. "That's precisely the way I am going to train mine." And he turned and snapped his fingers at his wheel, and it came toward him, though it wavered a good deal, and would have fallen if he hadn't caught it.

"That's very good," said the young man; "very good indeed. You have an extremely intelligent bicycle. Keep training it for a week; and it will go almost as well as mine."

"There aren't any pedals on yours," said Kenneth, as he looked at the other's wheel.

"Well, there aren't any pedals on a horse either, are there?" asked the young man, promptly. "Did you ever see a man riding a horse in Smithville, and pumping him along with pedals?"

"I forgot," said Kenneth. "I'll take them off of mine," and he reached down and did so. "What shall I do with them?"

"Oh, throw 'em in the ash-can," said the other, airily. "They're no good."

Kenneth didn't see any ash-can, so he tossed them behind some bushes, and began to give his bicycle practice at going alone about on the grass-plot. It learned rapidly, and he soon ventured to mount it, and after one or two tumbles it circled around, went ahead, and backed up very well indeed.

"Well, now, what shall we do?" asked the young man.

"I hardly know," answered Kenneth. "You're better acquainted with the country than I. You suggest something."

"I was on my way to the circus," said the other. "Suppose you come along. They say it's a very good show. It certainly has one great curiosity which I am anxious to see."

"What's that?" asked Kenneth.

"They have in this circus," answered the young man, speaking very slowly and impressively--"they have in a cage--a--live--horse!"

"Well, I don't--" began Kenneth; then he checked himself and went on, "I don't see where they got that."

"Captured it in the Smithville country at great expense and loss of life," replied the young man, proudly. "The Largest and most Ferocious Horse ever in the Captivity of Man. This Savage and Awe-inspiring Beast will daily Devour in Full View of the Breathless Audience a Peck of Oats and an Armful of Hay. At the Sight of his Food he Utters Blood-curdling Roars which bring Spasms of Fear to the Bravest. Don't miss this Chance of a Lifetime. I was just quoting from the bills," explained the young man hurriedly, as he lowered his voice again.

They then mounted their bicycles and rode away out of the grove and down a side road. The pedals being gone, Kenneth rested his feet on the coasters, as did his companion, and they sped along faster than he had ever ridden on the wheel before. It was, in fact, just like coasting down a long steep hill, but without the danger, as he soon came to have perfect confidence in the ability of his newly trained steed to keep upright.

"You see," said the young man, "that it's the simplest thing in the world to train a bicycle. Whoa!" he shouted, and his wheel began to stop. "Get up!" and it increased its speed again. "Yours doesn't know that yet, but it will soon learn. By-the-way," he continued, "they say a man actually goes into the cage with that horse at the circus. Don't fail to see Señior Jimjamdaza enter Fearlessly into the Cage of the Raging Bucephalus and Handle him as a Child might Handle a Bicycle. Remember, one Ticket admits to each and all of the Stupendous Wonders contained in this Gigantic Tentatorial Aggregation of-- Oh, I beg pardon; those bills _will_ keep running in my head," said the young man, just a little sheepishly.

"Oh, I don't mind," answered Kenneth; "only I think it's a good deal of a fuss to make over a horse. Why, I wouldn't be afraid to go into his cage myself."

"Now, see here," said the young man, "that won't do, you know. You can't fool me that way. You must think I'm green. The horse is the worst animal that ranges the Perilous and Deadly Jungle, spreading Terror and Destruction wherever he chances to show the Fiery Fury of his Face, and only Captured by our Agents after weeks of Superhuman Effort involving the Dreadful loss of Precious Life and the Sacrifice of Untold Treasure-- There I go again, quoting those bills; but, anyhow, you see what sort of an animal the horse is. And still you pretend to say that you wouldn't be afraid to enter the cage with one!"

"Well, I wouldn't," insisted Kenneth. "Didn't you ever have horses in this country?"

"They became extinct ages ago," answered the young man. (Kenneth thought of the pictures of mastodons and such things which he had seen in his physical geography book at school.) "Ages ago," repeated the young man. "Sometimes we find remains of 'em. Only last week a man discovered some horse bones while digging the cellar for a new bicycle-factory."

They had been wheeling along pretty fast, and had made several turns. There were a great many other people on the road, mostly going in the same direction as they were, evidently also on their way to the circus. Nearly all of them were riding bicycles precisely as they were, though a few were in carriages driving bicycles, usually two side by side. Suddenly at a sharp turn in the road they came face to face with a long bill-board covered with immense colored pictures and letters as high as Kenneth. The young man stopped the moment he saw it, and said:

"There, see that! There's a true picture of the gentle beast you say you would like to go in with."

Kenneth looked, and saw a picture of an animal ten or twelve feet high, with a great mouth like a hippopotamus, wide open, showing rows of teeth six inches long. A lot of hunters and black natives were trying to get out of his way, but the biggest hunter had fallen, and the horse was about to come down upon him with his forward feet. The animal's eyes seemed to be flashing fire, and he had a mane like a lion.

"How long do you think you'd like to stay in a cage with an animal like that?" asked the young man, proudly. "Like to sit down with him and do your sums, perhaps? Or maybe you'd rather lie down on the floor of the cage and take a nap--eh?"

"I can't say about that sort of a horse," admitted Kenneth, doubtfully. "I never saw a horse just like that, you know."

"See what it says," cried the young man. "'The Dreadful Terror in his Native Jungle! Captured after Awful Weeks of Cyclonic Struggle! To be seen in the Full and Excruciating Exuberance of his own Tremendous Verbosity in this Show alone!' What do you think of that?"

"Well, I don't know, hardly. I can tell better after I have seen the horse," said Kenneth.

"Yes, and we must be moving or we'll be late," returned the young man. "Here we go!" and off along the road they went again. In a few minutes they came to the circus-grounds. There were two large tents connected, with many smaller ones standing alone. There were great banners everywhere showing pictures of the wonders within, the largest being devoted to the horse. They left their bicycles in a shed, and after buying tickets, went into the first of the big tents. There was a great crowd inside, especially over at one side. "I think the horse is over there," whispered the young man. Just then they heard a man shouting:

"This way, ladies and gentlemen, to see the Mighty Monarch of the Trackless Jungle, the only Horse ever captured by Man. He is now about to be fed a Peck of Hardened Oats, which he will Crunch and Rend by the Terrific Force of his Unaided and Unassisted Jaws! Step up, ladies and gentlemen; step up!"

"We've got to see that horse if half of our bones are broken," exclaimed the young man, as he seized Kenneth by the arm, and began to force their way through the crowd.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE MILKY WAY.

BY ALBERT LEE.

I dreamed one night that I sailed away
From my little cot at home,
In a paper ship I had built that day,
Toward the heaven's starry dome.

And an angel met my little boat,
And clasped me by the hand
When I stepped ashore, in my short night-coat,
On the distant golden strand.

He led me forth down a great broad street
That seemed as bright as day,
And it felt all soft to the tread of my feet,--
For I walked on the Milky Way.

Along the sides of this heavenly road
That stretched away so white
Were a myriad stars that softly glowed,
Like fire-flies in the night.

The angel said that the Milky Way
Is the place where the girls and boys
Who are lame or crippled may go and play,
And trade their crutches for toys.

For when lame children go to sleep
In their sufferance beds below,
They are ferried by angels across the deep,
To the path where the star-lamps glow,

And the crutches they placed beside the bed,
Where they lay at close of day,
Are changed to tops and dolls instead
When they come to the Milky Way.

So I saw them there whom I knew down here,
Whom Heaven has not so blessed
With the strength to romp for the day's good-cheer,
But who hold the blessings of rest.

And now when I gaze toward the skies at night,
And look at the Milky Way,
I know why the near stars shine so bright:--
The little lame boys are at play.

FROM CHUM TO CHUM.

BY GASTON V. DRAKE.

XII.--FROM BOB TO JACK.

STRATFORD-ON-AVON.

MY DEAR JACK,--This is the place where William Shakespeare was
born. He was the man that some people say didn't write his own
works, but I guess there must be some mistake about that, because
if he didn't, why then they weren't his _own works_. Pop says
that's a very suttle point that nobody else ever thought of and I
think he's right, though I don't know what suttle means. We came
down here from London yesterday, and on the whole I was kind of
glad to get away. We used to think it would be nice to go to the
circus every day, and I remember feeling very badly once because I
couldn't, but you change your mind after being in London a couple
of weeks with nothing but go, go, go, and see, see, see from
morning until night. I've seen so much in London that I can't keep
it straight in my head except the wax-works and they were royal.
They had a collection of Kings and Queens there that beats anything
I ever saw and Pop says they're just as valuable as the real
article, except in the matter of jewelry, which is only imitation
and made of paste. I said I'd rather see a real King than a wax
King, but Pop says the wax King would pay just as much attention to
me as a real King, and that you could slap a wax King on the back,
which you wouldn't be allowed to do with a real King. I don't know
about that though. I'd like to try it once. I sort of feel that if
I could get hold of a real King he and I would get along pretty
well together, because when I saw the Prince of Whales it struck me
that he wasn't much more than a human being after all, and from the
way he wore his hat, wouldn't mind much if somebody did slap him on
the back and tell him a bear story. I'd like mightily to try that
bear story of Sandboys' on that Whales fellow. I don't believe he'd
be very horty after he'd heard half of it.

In some ways though the wax people are more interesting than the
real rulers. They wear better clothes. The wax Prince was a great
deal more gorgeous than the real one. He simply blossomed all over
with jewels and medals and uniform. There wasn't any beaver hat and
umbrella business about the wax one, and all the wax Kings had
their crowns on. I always thought Kings got along without hats and
wore gold bands with prongs on 'em all around their foreheads, but
Pop says they gave up that because it gave 'em colds in the heads
going out with prongs on, and besides the English crown was too
valuable to hang on a hat-rack.

They had wax plain people too, sitting all around the place to make
it look popular. A man came in here once and asked a wax policeman
where the figure of Napoleon was, and of course the wax policeman
didn't say a word, and the man got mad and took his number and
complained about him for not being civil. There's a Chamber of
Horrors too where they keep the wax heads of bad people and show
you how burglars look. Generally they didn't look any worse than
the fine people upstairs, only their clothes weren't so good and
they didn't wear diamonds.

Napoleon wasn't half as great looking as I thought he would be. Pop
says he wasn't the kind of a man to work up in wax anyhow. He had a
face that needed cast-iron or granite to make it go as a figure in
a wax-work show, and as for the Duke of Wellington that beat him at
Waterloo, he didn't show up for much in wax except his nose and
that was fearful. He had a funny nose, the Duke of Wellington had
and I guess that's what beat Napoleon. If Napoleon ever saw it it
must have made him laugh, and nobody can fight and laugh at the
same time. He had a hard nose to follow if the wax-work was like
him, because it went in two directions. If I had a nose like that
and wanted to go somewhere and somebody told me to follow my nose
the way some people do sometimes, I'd know what they meant though.
They'd mean go across our block, turn a corner and go down two. It
had a thank-you-marm in it like country road's that you slide down
hill on in winter. But he got there just the same, which I'm sorry
for because Napoleon wasn't half as tall as he was, and I like to
see the little man win generally.

Next to the wax-works I remember the Zoo clearest of all I've seen.
I saw more monkies than you could shake a stick at and the fun they
were having made me wish I might be one of 'em for a little while.
Some of 'em looked almost as human as our hired man, and Pop says
he didn't know but what they were nearly as useful. The only
objection to 'em was that they were never quite still enough to be
good hired men. Besides monkies they had bears, and horned toads,
and red, white, and blue parrots--Pop says he thinks the red white
and blue parrots are called Jingo-birds, and we have lots of 'em in
the United States, but I never saw any up our way, and I guess if
we had 'em I'd know it because they spend most of their time
screeching and shaking their feathers. I didn't care much for the
snakes. They've got a whole house full of 'em, but they don't
amount to much, spending most of their time asleep. They aren't
half as lively, nor any more snakey to look at than the elephants'
trunks. The Elephants in this Zoo are awfully friendly and they'll
eat anything from chocolate creams to pie. There was a man in the
Zoo once that saw a little girl giving the Elephant a piece of
chocolate and he thought it was tobacco, so when the elephant put
out his trunk for something from him he put his cigar in it,
forgetting unfortunately that it was still lit, and the elephant
got awful mad and grabbed the man around the waist and threw him up
in the air so hard that the Zoo man says he hasn't come down yet,
and that was three years ago. Try that on Sandboys and see what he
has to say about it.

I've used up all my paper now and so must stop, or else I'd tell
you all about that Shakespeare man who was born here. He was a
great man and wrote Julius Cæsar and lots of plays that have people
die in, right before your eyes. They still keep his memory green
here and Pop says are making more money out of doing so in a week
than Shakespeare made in a year. He never wrote his name twice
alike and was buried in the church. His grave is very interesting
and has an epitaph on it forbidding anybody to dust it off, which I
think is mighty queer.

Next Monday, we are going over to Paris, and whenever I have the
time I study a little French. I've learned already to say bon jour
so that Pop knows what I mean and before long I expect to know the
language well enough to talk to myself in it anyhow.

Always yours,
BOB.

It is only a question of time when the Cambridge High and Latin schools will be forced to compete in interscholastic sports as separate institutions. Already the football authorities have refused to recognize a C. H. and L. eleven, and at the recent annual meeting of the Baseball Committee a fight was made to force the united Cambridge schools to enter separate baseball teams. The battle was lost; but the feeling against the Cambridge schools seems to be very strong, and sooner or later the High-school and the Latin school will be compelled to stand on their individual merits.

The constitution of the Baseball League provides that no amendment can be made without a two-thirds vote, and when the question of separating the Cambridge High-school from the Cambridge Latin School in baseball came up, the vote stood three to three, and consequently C. H. and L. will be represented by one nine in the league games this spring. The schools that voted for C. H. and L. were the English High, the Somerville High, and, naturally, the Cambridge High and Latin. English High's representatives claimed that they voted to allow the schools to play as one, because separation would make the number of teams in the league too great, and they also thought the expense of such an arrangement would be inadvisable. Somerville High voted for the Cambridge institutions because it, too, is what they call there a "combined" school, and it was practically voting for itself by standing up for C. H. and L. The three schools on the opposition side were the Roxbury Latin, Boston Latin, and Hopkinson's. They voted for separation on the ground that it was for the best interests of interscholastic sport in Boston.

The Baseball and Football Interscholastic leagues are encouraged and looked after by Harvard University athletes, because they develop players who enter Harvard and make good material for the university tennis. For that reason the influence of Harvard men has always been exerted in behalf of the schools that send the best and the most material to college, and also, of course, for the best interests of sport. It was largely due to the influence of Harvard men that C. H. and L. was forced out of the football association. Eventually these graduates will doubtless take the same stand in baseball.

For the last ten years--that is, from 1886 to 1895--the number of scholars sent to Harvard by Somerville High, Cambridge High and Latin, and English High schools (the three institutions which voted for C. H. and L.) has been 236, or an average each year of 23.6 men. On the other hand, Roxbury Latin, Boston Latin, and Hopkinson's (the three schools that voted against C. H. and L.) have sent 639 men, or a yearly average of 63.9. These figures are taken from the annual report of the President of Harvard University. From other sources I find that the approximate number of scholars in the three schools first mentioned is 1300, while the approximate number of students at the three schools last mentioned is 1000. It is fair to assume too, that 175 of the latter are too young to enter either the Cambridge or English High or the Somerville High schools, for Hopkinson's and Roxbury Latin accept boys as young as nine and ten years. This makes the discrepancy between the two groups even greater from an athletic point of view. Therefore it is evident that while the Cambridge schools and their adherents have some 1300 pupils, they send only about 38 per cent. of the number of men to Harvard that the other three schools send there.

For this reason, if for no other, Harvard is likely to support the separatist party among the schools, and thus ultimately force the Cambridge High and Latin schools to support separate teams. In view of this, and in view of the fact that it is beyond question for the best interests of sport that the Cambridge schools should be separated, it seems that the sooner C. H. and L. men come to realize this, and act upon the conviction, the more gracefully will they effect the scission, and besides that they will come out with credit rather than otherwise.

It is probable, as matters now stand, that the first annual games of the National Association will be held on the Berkeley Oval the afternoon of Saturday, June 13th.

The baseball schedule of the New Jersey I.S.A.A. has been laid out as follows: April 18th, Montclair High-School against Plainfield, at Plainfield; April 18th, Pingry against Newark Academy, at Elizabeth; April 25th, Montclair against Stevens Institute, at Montclair; April 25th, Plainfield against Pingry, at Plainfield; May 6th, Stevens Institute against Newark Academy, at Newark; May 16th, Stevens Institute against Plainfield, at Hoboken; May 16th, Montclair against Pingry, at Elizabeth; May 23d, Plainfield against Newark Academy, at Newark; May 23d, Pingry against Stevens Institute, at Hoboken; May 27th, Montclair against Newark Academy, at Montclair. It would be well if a game could be arranged between the winner of this series and the winner of the New York League, or, better yet, of the Inter-city game.

The dates of the New York baseball series are juggled with so frequently that I have given up all hope of keeping track of the schedule. At the last meeting of the I.S.A.A. more alterations were made, but with the aid of the god of sport perhaps the schedule will come out straight. One date that can be announced with reasonable assurance at present, however, is that of the Interscholastic games. These will be held at the Berkeley Oval on Wednesday, May 13th.

A striking feature of the recent interscholastic skating races at the 107th Street rink was Morgan's winning of every event in the finals on Friday evening, April 10th. He seemed to be as much at home in the sprints as in the distances, his time in the various races being: 220 yards, 23 sec.; quarter-mile, 50-1/5 sec.; two miles, 6 min. 36-2/5 sec. He skated also with the winning team in the one-mile relay race.

Although these skating races were not officially sanctioned by the N.Y.I.S.A.A. almost all of the schools in the Association sent entries, of which there were about fifty. The trial heats were run on Friday night, the 9th, and the finals on Saturday, and there were between 3000 and 4000 spectators present on each occasion.

Champion Interscholastic Skater N.Y.I.S.A.A.]

Alfred Morgan, of De La Salle, won the 220 trial and the two-mile with ease, and in the quarter he almost lapped his field, and, mistaking the finish, he stopped. Realizing his mistake as soon as the field had rushed past, he plunged ahead again, and making a hard spurt managed to secure second place, which gave him a chance in the finals.

In the finals the finishing of the second and third men was in almost every instance more exciting than that of first and second, because Morgan was so far superior to the other skaters. In the 220 he was the quickest to get in motion when the pistol was fired, set a clipping pace, and won easily by twenty yards. Pitizipio beat Goulding for the place by five yards. Goulding was fortunate in getting third prize, as he slipped and fell five yards from the finish, but managed to slide across the tape in time. In the two-mile Morgan came in fully three laps ahead of the second man.

Morgan has great speed, and is particularly quick in getting off the mark. His time in the 440 comes very near to the world's in-door record. In practice Donohue has only been able to beat Morgan by about two feet in a 220 race. Morgan is not yet nineteen years old, and besides being the best skater in the schools, he is pitcher of the De La Salle nine, and a speedy bicycle-rider.

The turns in the track at the 107th Street rink are very sharp, and a number of the skaters were bowled over like tenpins at the corners. On a longer track the time might have been a trifle better. But even so, next year the scholastic competitors will have pretty high records to beat. De La Salle won the cup which was offered to the school making the largest number of points, by scoring 14. The next highest score was 6 points.

The officers of the National Interscholastic Association have finally decided to ask the New Manhattan Athletic Club to take charge of their first field meeting--upon the success of which so much depends--and the club has undertaken the task. I think the school athletes of the country are to be congratulated upon this move, for the financial element of the enterprise has now been entirely eliminated so far as they are concerned, and this is one of the greatest advantages that could be wished for.

That the National Association has done a clever thing in getting the N.M.A.C., or rather, the Athletic Manager of the club, to superintend and arrange these games is proved by the fact that for some time past the Inter-collegiate Association has been negotiating with the club to achieve this same end. But the governors of the N.M.A.C., in their endeavors to assist in the promotion of pure sport, have decided not to attempt more than they can handle at the outset, and believing that the schools deserve more of them than the colleges, they will, I believe, give their time and assistance this year to the latter only.

And at this point let me give the readers of this Department a little glance into the inside history of the negotiations which have just ended between the National Association and the club. It will give them a better idea than anything else could, I think, of the spirit which is to pervade the management of scholastic affairs in the future. When the officers of N.I.S.A.A. went to the managers of the N.M.A.C. they explained what they wanted, and they talked about gate receipts and medals and percentage, and all that sort of thing, and the word "dollars" was used a good deal more than the word "sport." That was all very well and entirely excusable, because the officers felt a certain responsibility in the matter, and they knew they could not secure grounds and prizes for nothing, and perhaps they allowed the latter factors to assume a greater importance than they deserve.