Chapter X (1)

MODERN LIFE IN AN ANCIENT CLIFF DWELLING.

"No sooner was our work on the hut completed," continued the Professor, "than I determined to make an exploration of the valley, for I had yet to learn of its size, what it produced, whether it contained any inhabitants besides ourselves, and if there was any entrance to it other than the one by which we had come. So, after an early breakfast, I set off down the stream that flowed past our camp, carrying the fowling-piece over my shoulder.

"As I advanced, the fertility of the soil was a constant source of delight, for it not only produced a heavy growth of grasses, besides the useful amole, or soap-root, and many other plants, but a great variety of trees, among which I recognized cottonwood, cedar, the piñon or nut-bearing pine, and peach-trees that had run wild from some long-ago planting. These last showed the valley to have been visited by human beings since the coming of Spaniards to this country, for by them were peaches introduced. I also found an abundance of cotton-plants with full bolls, which, though small in size from lack of cultivation, would yield a serviceable fibre. No trace of human beings was to be seen save the ancient ruins of a few huts, together with mounds of broken pottery and stone implements of every description.

"When late in the day I regained camp, almost my first greeting from mother was, 'Whatever thee has discovered, Rufus, I am persuaded that we who remained behind have found something of still greater value.'

"Then she told me how, with the keen instinct of her race for such things, Hagar, while gathering pine-nuts, had run across a trail leading up the face of the cliffs, and had followed it to this very place. Mother had also climbed to the platform, taken a hasty glance at its marvels, and then, leaving Hagar and the child up there, had returned to meet me, and conduct me to the wonderful place they had found.

"Smiling at her excitement, for I could not then realize the value of the discovery, I followed her up the steep acclivity, wondering at her endurance, especially when we came to the last fifteen feet of perpendicular steps. When we finally gained the place where Hagar smilingly awaited us, I was amazed at the width of the platform and the extent of the view to be obtained from it. I longed for the spy-glass which had formed part of the equipment of our wagon, and which had been left in the hut. I even proposed to return and get it, thinking that the platform and view from it embraced the whole of Hagar's discovery. At that mother interfered, and saying that she had something of much greater importance than a view to show me, directed my attention to the further end of the platform. Then for the first time I became aware of a small house occupying the entire space beneath a jutting of the cliff.

"It was built of stone, so deftly laid and so colored by time that even a short distance away it could not be distinguished from the adjacent rock. From the shape of its doorway, which was thus"--here the Professor traced a rude diagram in the ashes of the hearth--"but which we afterward altered to suit our own notions, I knew that the structure was a cliff-dwelling of the most ancient pattern.

"In an instant I was as excited as mother, though with a different reason, for this was the very type of dwelling I had been most anxious to study, and if it should prove to have remained unvisited since its abandonment, my fondest hopes of discovery would be fulfilled. Nor was I disappointed, for an examination of the interior revealed a profusion of unbroken pottery, implements of stone, horn, and bone, pictographs or rude drawings on the walls, agate and jasper fragments of fossil trees, such as I had noticed in abundance at the lower end of the valley, and many other things, all in such a fine state of preservation as gave instant proof that here was a treasure not yet duplicated in America.

"Over all these things and on the floor the dust of ages lay thick, and rose in suffocating clouds with our every movement. Heedless of it, I penetrated each of the three rooms contained in the house, wild with delight over what I saw. I was somewhat taken aback when I found that mother, who had seemed to share my enthusiasm, was all this time regarding the place with the eye of a housewife, and as one in which we might establish a home for such time as we should remain in the valley. Finally, however, she won me to her way of thinking, and though we returned to the camp for that night, we set to work early the next day to put 'Cliff Castle,' as mother called it, in a habitable condition.

"On my second visit to it I discovered the steps leading to the top of the mesa and the ruined watch-tower that crowns it. There I also found a rock cistern, and a broken conduit, that could be opened at pleasure, by which its waters had formerly been conveyed to the house. This, with Hagar's skilled assistance, I soon repaired, and by nightfall of that day we had the ancient cliff dwelling cleansed and ready for occupancy. Another day was necessary for the removal of such goods as we needed from below, but with that accomplished, we were comfortably settled in what has been from that day to this our home.

"Of course much has been done to it since then in the way of enlargement, the making of a more generous provision for light and ventilation, and in the adding of many comforts, but in its general aspect Cliff Castle stands to-day unchanged from the time it was built, many centuries before the continent of America was discovered by Columbus.

"Although so long as my meagre supply of ammunition lasted I had no difficulty in procuring all the meat needed for our table, a supply that Nanahe has kept up since by means of his throw-stick, I began the making of a field as soon as our dwelling was put in order. My greatest labor lay in fencing this against goats and rabbits. When it was ready I planted it with corn, oats, beans, and squashes, the seed for which were yielded by a bag of feed for our poor mules that I had procured in Zuñi. I also set out peach-trees and grape-vines, improving greatly the quality of their fruit by cultivation, and a little later I captured two young goats, from which our present domestic flock has been reared.

"In all our labors, both mine in the field and mother's in the house, Hagar was our invaluable assistant and instructor. She it was who taught me to use the ancient stone hoes and planting sticks of my remote predecessors, to construct wattled fences, to cure meat so that it might be kept, and to work in clay until I could produce rude but serviceable articles of pottery. She taught mother how to spin cotton thread on the stone spindles that we found in this and other cliff dwellings, and afterwards to weave them into a coarse cloth on a rude loom that she herself constructed.

"She gave lessons in making matting of yucca fibre, in plaiting baskets, dressing hides, and in sewing rabbit-skins with bone needles. Before we began to harvest our planted crops, she gathered up large quantities of certain grass-seeds, ground them into flour on old stone metates, and made of this a palatable bread. She taught us where to look for wasp honey, as well as how to extract sugar from grapes and peaches.

"I discovered the deposit of salt that seasons our food, and the selenite that, cleaved into thin sheets, serves instead of glass to close our windows against the cold of winter; but nearly every other comfort with which thee finds us surrounded we owe to the knowledge, skill, and cheerful industry of that splendid woman. She remained with us nearly two years. Then, with her life work nobly accomplished, she left us, and we buried her beside our dear boy.

"Since then Nanahe has been as our own well-loved son, bravely filling his mother's place. With his increasing strength he has gradually assumed the duties that my failing powers have caused me to relinquish, until now he is our mainstay and dependence, as well as the delight of our declining years. He has been quick to learn all that I could teach him, and is fitted for a wider sphere of activity than that in which he now moves. But I know not how we could exist without him, nor how he might gain the outer world, even though we knew in what direction lay its most accessible point.

"In all these years I have not been able to determine our locality nor our distance from any known place, nor have we been visited by any human being beside thyself since coming to the valley. On account of the marvellous coloring of the desolate region surrounding us I have called it the Painted Desert, though I am not certain that the name originated with me, for I have a dim memory of hearing it before. I cannot satisfy myself, however, as to whether the Moqui towns lie to the east or the west of us. I am of the former opinion, but Nanahe, for some reason, inclines to the latter. At the same time, neither of us can form any idea of how far away they may be."

"I do not know," said Todd, "for I am very much ashamed to say that I was so filled with visions of hunting as to neglect my opportunities for gaining profitable information while with my brother's expedition. I too, however, am of the opinion, that the Moqui towns lie to the eastward of this place. Nor do I think they can be at any great distance, certainly no further than two active young chaps such as Nanahe and I might cover without danger during a time of rains. Don't you think, sir, that we might make the attempt?" concluded the boy, eagerly.

"What does thee think would become of mother and me if thee should take Nanahe from us?" asked the old man.

"We would only be gone a short time, and would return with such assistance as would enable you also to rejoin the world from which you have been cut off so long," replied Todd.

"My son, when first we came here I too was impatient of imprisonment, and fretted against it; but since then I have come to a knowledge that, with our present freedom from the cares and anxieties of the world, our life is happier here than it could possibly be elsewhere. More than that, this place is our home, which we have learned so to love that mother and I hope never to leave it, save for the better land of our Father. I would not seek to detain thee here one moment against thy will, nor would I hinder the departure of Nanahe if I knew of a way for his going and an object to be gained. At present neither of these seems to be offered; but in the Lord's own time, if it be His will, they are certain to come, and until then we must be content to await His pleasure. Therefore, my dear lad, satisfy thyself as well as may be in this place, gain from it whatever of health, strength, and knowledge thee can, and have faith to believe that in due time a way of escape will be opened to thee."

Todd accepted this advice in silence and with a heavy heart, for to him the Valley of Peace, in which he could not regard himself as other than a prisoner, was only a refuge from the perils of its encircling desert; while the great, outer world from which he was cut off contained all of life that he deemed worth the having. Therefore during the next few weeks, while he found much pleasure in the company of Nanahe, under whose guidance he explored every foot of the valley and became an expert climber of its frowning cliffs, he brooded constantly over plans of escape. He even went so far as to propose to the Indian lad that they two should set forth on a search for the Moqui towns in spite of the Professor's protest, but was met with an unqualified refusal.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

ONE TOUCH OF NATURE.

A LEGEND OF WESTERN NEW YORK.

BY G. T. FERRIS.

"What d'ye think it all means?" said Mark Lytte, peering through the tangled thicket of hazel and sumach, where the earliest autumn dyes had begun to lay their crimson.

Buckskin, before answering his young comrade, pondered on the scene before him. In the hollow nestling at the foot of the hill and clasped in the bend of the river lay the large Indian village, all astir with motion and excitement. But it seemed not to be the fever of war and slaughter which so often convulses the aboriginal man, but a jubilee of mirth and innocent delight. They were looking down on one of the most considerable towns of the Seneca tribe in western New York, near what is now Olean. Hurrying through the village streets, laughing groups of dark-skinned youths and maids carried wreaths of wild-flowers, branches of trees, and great sheaves of maize-stalks toward a lofty pole which towered in the centre.

"To think I shouldn't 'a' known quick as powder flashin'" finally said Buckskin John, whose iron face and tanned skin showed his occupation no less than his garb. "It's the Feast of the Green Corn[2] among these Iroquois devils, an' then they're allus as frisky as so many lambs. They put off the wolf-skin for a while, but they keep it mighty handy, I kin tell ye."

[2] The Feast of the Green Corn among the powerful Iroquois Confederacy, or Six Nations, occurred in the latter part of August or early September. Its rites so resembled the Hebrew Feast of the Tabernacles that it furnished an additional argument for the notion that the American Indians were remotely descended from the ten lost tribes of Israel.

"Perhaps it'll give us a better chance to try our luck," answered Mark, whose face was that of a lad of sixteen, though his height and the sturdy square of his chest looked older. He wrung his hands excitedly, and continued, with a quiver in his voice, shaking his long rifle in the direction of the village: "What can we do? I shall go crazy if we fail. Mother's grievin' to death, fadin' each month into a mere shadder. 'Twas all right till last year, Buckskin, and she showed no sign but what she'd a'most forgot about our lost Nellie. Then we heard of the little white gal in Cornplanter's village, and that he was the very chief who made the raid when we lived at Fort Pitt. Then Cunnel Johnson over to Fort Niagara, though he did fight agin us in the late war, came to see Cornplanter six months ago. An' the chief would say nuthin' but that the little gal, whoever her parents were, was no longer white, but Indian, his adopted sister, whom he loved dearer than life. That broke mother's heart, for she began to pine soon as she found as Cornplanter ud never let the captive free."

Mark's brief rehearsal did scant justice to a typical drama of the border. Six years before, during the early days of the Revolutionary war, a war party of the Senecas had made an irruption into western Pennsylvania, and among their captives was a girl of four years old belonging to the Lytte family. The great chief, who shares with Red Jacket the highest mark in Seneca tradition, took the trembling captive to his mother with the words:

"My mother, I bring to you a daughter to supply the place of my brother, killed by the Lenapé six moons ago. She shall dwell in my lodge and be my sister." So little Eleanor Lytte became Ma-za-ri-ta, "the Ship under Full Sail," so named from her joyous and energetic disposition.

"Waal, we'll have to go slow," Buckskin had answered his companion. "I'll resk my topknot to help ye, lad, but we'll see how the lan' lays." The old hunter knew that at this festival-time hospitality would be flung with both hands to all comers. So they moved down the hill into the main village street, where a tall Indian, with all the insignia of a great sagamore in his tattooing, head-dress, and port, received them with a grave welcome.

"My white brothers have come to the green-corn feast of the Senecas. They are welcome. Our hearts are glad, and all we have is theirs." Then he ordered his guests conducted to a well-built log house, where a generous provision for all their wants was found. They had scarcely satisfied their simple needs when the music of Indian flutes and drums drew them to the door, and there they found the messenger ready to conduct them to the "long house," where the procession was forming which would begin the festivities.

Foremost, hand in hand with the chief, was a brilliant little figure, a girl about ten years old. With a skin naturally snow-white, but now kissed to a ruddy hue by the sunshine, and long brown plaits glittering with the most brilliant beads; petticoat and bodice of the finest broadcloth, and around her neck and shoulders rows of silver brooches and strings of white and purple wampum; on her feet deer-skin moccasins embroidered with porcupine quills, contrasting with the scarlet leggings above--Ma-za-ri-ta looked indeed the fit princess of the revels. The pride which shone in Cornplanter's eyes, the admiration with which all the Indians gazed on the dancing girl--for her feet had already begun to move to a nimble measure--struck a chill to the heart of Mark, for it seemed a portent of sure defeat. Her blue eyes sparkled with joy as she danced in the van, followed by the Seneca girls in pairs, all attired in gala dress, and with wreaths of flowers on their heads. Then came Cornplanter and his lesser chiefs, the warriors, the squaws, and the children, and the march advanced to the pole in the centre of the village, shaped in a square enclosure, that painted pole horribly etched with the scars of innumerable tomahawks when the frenzy of war-dancing made it the symbol of the enemy's body. Now the great mast was belted thick with greenery to its very top, corn-stalks with pendent ears, bunches of golden-rod, and all the richest spoil of the thickets and meadows. Ma-za-ri-ta's sweet voice, as the dance of the maidens gyrated more and more swiftly about the gorgeous pillar, led the chant among the more shrill and unmusical notes of her companions.

Mark edged his way through the throng, for a fancy had suddenly come to him, and he stood in the inner ring next the circle of dancers.

"Nellie! little Nellie! don't you remember Mark?" he said, in a piercing whisper, as she approached several paces in the van of her choir.

Ma-za-ri-ta slowed her pace, looking at him wonderingly with a flush of offended pride, for the little princess felt she was the queen of the Senecas, child as she was. Again as she neared his place she heard the words, "Nellie, _can't_ you remember?" The beautiful child face was troubled, as though some dumb vague memory were stirring under the surface, but again she moved on, shaking her head. Bitterly did Mark bewail his failure to Buckskin, for, "I'm sure," he said, "she is our lost Nellie, and I can see our mother's look in her pretty eyes." Something worked like yeast in the old hunter's thoughts as he listened in silence to Mark's passionate rambling words that night, when all the camp was hushed to silence, and they lay tossing on their bear-skins.

"Why don't you answer?" the boy burst out, with petulance.

"Mark, I'm glad," the other said, deliberately, "that there seems to be no chance of takin' the little gal away by force or cheatin'. I rayther guess there's a doggone poor show of doin' anything that-a-way, and we might 'a' known it afore. But I'll swar she's her mother's darter, as ye said a minnit since, and when ye talk about the mother, thar's the key of the hull sityvashun, as the lawyer chaps ud say. Ye don't quite unnerstan' what I mean, hey? Waal, it's jes this, my young master. Your mammy must come down here to Cornplanter's village, and she'll do mor'n all the guns and bagnets of Gen'ral St. Clair's army to get the little gal back, ef so be she is the right one, and I genooinely believe it. The chief loves his adopted sister with every drop of his blood, and his people adore her as their little princess. They'd lay their lives down afore givin' her up, onless ye tech 'em jess right. But I know 'em well, blood-thirsty varmints and wild beasts as they are when you cross 'em, and a redskin's got a heart as beats big and strong as any white man's, ef ye can find it oncet. Then I've heerd uv Cornplanter fur the last fifteen year, and they all say he's one of the best as well as bravest critturs as ever wore a scalp-lock. Cheer up, laddie; we'll git her, but we can't do it yet. Trust ole Buckskin's idee."

Buckskin's solace scarcely calmed Mark's restlessness, and after the hunter's snores proved him in the realm of dreams, he arose with the idea of strolling through the moonlit village, and walking off the fancies that would not let him sleep. The lonely streets were wrapped in the pallid shine which silhouetted the log houses and the trees in ghostly shadows, and had it not been for the occasional howl of a distant wolf or the snarl of an Indian dog, he might have fancied himself the only waking creature. He wandered aimlessly, in a maze of fear and doubt what would be the outcome of it all. His careless footsteps finally carried him to the edge of the village, where, at the very shadow of the forest, stood a large double house apart from all the others. Then he saw he was not the only sleepless soul, for from its doorway glided a figure whose height and garb--for the moonlight glittered on the costly bead-work--showed it to be the one who filled his heart full to bursting. He forgot all prudence and doubt, and sprang forward swiftly.

"Nellie! Nellie!" he cried, in tones that cut the silent air like a knife. "I am your brother Mark--your playmate that loved you so dearly. Come home with me to mammy, who is dying for you, away from this dreadful place. A long time ago they carried you away from us, and now I've found you again, and will not let you go, my darling little sister." He forgot all the surroundings--all but need of giving voice to the feeling that shook him as the wind shakes the leaves in the trees.

Ma-za-ri-ta's face quivered in the starlight as she shrank from the hand that eagerly clutched her arm, as if he would have led her away at once; then something like half-awakened intelligence was quenched in a wave of blind terror, and she shrieked aloud.

A tall figure leaped like a tiger from the dark of the doorway, and Mark felt the grip of iron fingers on his throat which threatened to strangle him. As he lay helpless in that clutch, he saw an upraised tomahawk sparkling in the moonshine; but Cornplanter did not strike, though his words were edged with cutting disdain.

"Such is the honor of palefaces," said he; "from the cub to the full-grown wolf the same. The Senecas welcomed their guests and did them honor. Their hearts were warm and friendly, for it is now their festival of peace and goodwill. But what should they do to one who would steal in the dark, and rob them of their dearest?"

"Do?" said another voice, for Mark was speechless with rage, shame, and impotence, and Buckskin darted forward, grasping Cornplanter's uplifted arm, though the chief showed no immediate purpose to use his gleaming weapon. "Do? They should respect the voice of natur' and blood cryin' aloud!" Honest Buckskin had wakened suddenly, and alarmed at Mark's absence, sought him through the Indian village. "Look ye here, chief, this is a foolish boy, and he couldn't 'a' done what ye think, had he been in ever so much airnest. But he suspecks he's found his little sister that you and yourn took from his mammy's arms six year ago durin' the time o' fightin'. The great Seneca is just; and let him say, then, who's the thief, ef it comes to a matter o' stealin'."

The ferocity which had hardened Cornplanter's lineaments still threatened the offender in spite of the hunter's plea. But Ma-za-ri-ta, who had listened with shifting emotions chasing over her face, vainly striving to pierce the meaning of the words, now threw her arms about the neck of the chief, and spoke rapidly in the Seneca tongue. The Indian's stern aspect melted and took on its more wonted expression, in which there was something almost benignant.

"Go without harm even while it is night," he said, "lest the Senecas discover all, and sore mischief befall." He brought them their arms, loaded their wallets with food, and dismissed them. And as Mark turned before entering the forest, he caught a last look of Ma-za-ri-ta, watching their retreating footsteps with clasped hands and head bent forward.

It was about a week afterwards that Colonel Johnson received a visit at Fort Niagara in Canada, just across the river, which whetted his interest keenly. This whilom British agent of the Iroquois tribes still exercised a powerful influence over them, though their territory now belonged to the conceded limits of the new republic. To him they looked even yet for advice and authority. He recognized the Lyttes, mother and son (for the father was dead), and his feelings guessed shrewdly at the occasion as they walked up the esplanade from the jetty where they had landed.

"Well, Mrs. Lytte," he said, after the first look at her pale and working features, which were full of news, "I see you've learned something more."

"Cunnel, in the name of God, and for the sake of your own dear wife and children, you must help me now," the woman gasped, for her throat was too full. "Mark has jess come from Cornplanter's village, and he says for sure and sure it's little Nellie. An' she didn't know him! But, Cunnel, she will know the mammy that bore her and gave her suck, for I'll die of a broken heart ef she don't."

"We must trust for the best, my dear lady," said he, cheerily. "The first thing will be the child's knowing you. That clearly proven, the question will be as to Cornplanter. It will be a knock-down blow, but the Seneca has great qualities. He may set his face against it like flint, yet I shall be surprised if he thinks of self alone in the matter. And what idea did you get of Cornplanter?" he concluded, turning to Mark.

"Pretty good for an Indian," said Mark, moodily; "but ef he don't give up Nellie to mother, I'll brain him with his own hatchet, ef I die for it next minute."

"Well crowed, young cockeril," laughed the Colonel, "but we'll find better weapons than tomahawks. It's the heart and not the skull we've got to reach." There was no need to waste time, and quick outfit was made for the journey to the Seneca village, about eighty miles away.

Cornplanter received the message from the Indian runner, giving warning of Colonel Johnson's proposed visit, but with no further hint of purpose. Yet he felt a keen pang of foreboding. Stoic as he was, there was something in the air that mocked him with the notion of fate lying in ambush close at hand. As Ma-za-ri-ta afterwards recalled, the chief treated her with a clinging, pathetic tenderness during these days she had never known before. And finally, when he saw with Colonel Johnson the youth who had been his recent guest, and a pale-faced woman with questioning gaze that wandered and hunted like that of a mad-woman, it was no longer guesswork. It was as if a bullet had pierced his chest. The Englishman knew his man, and made a plain appeal with all the fling of that bullet.

Cornplanter heard with a stern, impassive face. "My father's words are good and just," he said. "Let Ma-za-ri-ta decide," and hope knocked again faintly at the gate that his little sister would not know the white woman who had come to rob him of his heart's blood. The girl was led from her lodge, unknowing the test, and ran gayly to her Indian brother's side, and looked curiously at the little white group in the centre of the watchful throng of red men. Her eyes glanced smilingly at her Indian friends, till they were fastened as if by a magnet on the white woman's face, and there they hung, fascinated, open-mouthed, spellbound, as though they could never drink their fill. The woman stood, arms half extended, burning eyes unquenched by their own tears, lips dumbly moving. Fear, wonder, longing, doubt, swept over the girl's face, till all thought was swallowed up in a light unspeakable, and her tongue babbled "ma-ma." She tottered, but Mrs. Lytte leaped at her and locked her fast with convulsive cries and sobs.

The chief's rigid face was that of a bronze man. All listened for his lips to speak. But it seemed as if the jaws were locked. And when the voice came his followers scarcely knew its hollow accents:

"The Great Spirit has spoken, and who are his red children that they should refuse to listen." Then he covered his face with a corner of his deer-skin robe and passed swiftly from their midst, this Indian Agamemnon, who would not reveal his own agony of spirit.

Eleanor Lytte never saw her Indian brother again, but costly presents each year proved his indelible memory till his death.

THE REMARKABLE ADVENTURES OF SANDBOYS.

A BIG HAUL.

BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS.

There was great excitement at the hotel. The oldest guest--that is to say, the one who had passed the greatest number of summers at the Mountain House--had just come in from his morning's fishing, and had brought with him the largest trout that, so far as any one knew, had ever been caught in the lake. It was a perfect beauty. Its body was long and graceful in its lines and curves, and its "speckles" were of such a lovely hue and quality that a little girl who was looking at them remarked that she "wouldn't mind gettin' her nose all over freckles if they was only pretty and pink like that instead of rusty-lookin' little yeller spots." And everybody in the hotel, even the fishers who had fished for days and days without catching anything, or getting even any bites save those of the black-flies, were glad that the luck had come to the oldest guest, for he was a great favorite with everybody; grandfathers as well as boys had a great affection for him, he was such a fine fellow, and so pleasant and courteous to every one. Probably no one else in the hotel could have caught the "record" trout without making somebody jealous of him, but in this case it was different, the oldest guest had such a habit of seeming to share his good-fortune with all with whom he came in contact. So it happened that there was great rejoicing over the morning's catch, and everybody said it was a wonderful one--even Sandboys acknowledged that it was a catch to be proud of.

"Never been beat as an individual catch," he said. "Never. Biggest trout I ever see; but not the biggest haul--not quite. No, not by a long shot, by hookey!"

This remark made in the hearing of Bob and Jack naturally aroused the curiosity of the two boys. They had been, on the whole, the chiefest of the admirers of the oldest guest for a long time, and when he came in just before dinner with his three-and-three-quarter-pounder, Jack ranked him on the score of achievement with Napoleon Bonaparte, and Bob admitted that he stood second to none but George Washington. Sandboys's observation, however, changed this somewhat. If somebody had once made a bigger haul, even if he had not caught a bigger fish, there might have to be some slight rearrangement in the order of their lists of heroes.

"What do you mean by that, Sandboys?" they asked.

"Just what I say," replied Sandboys. "As a fish, that's the biggest fish that's ever been took out of any of these lakes about here; but as a haul on a single cast, it ain't in it with one I know about."

"Who made it?" asked Bob. "Jimmie Hicks?"

"Jimmie nothin'," retorted Sandboys, scornfully. "Jimmie was a mighty smart lad at fishin'; but I'm talkin' of something alongside of which smartness ain't no more'n a peanut side of an elephant."

"Then who did do it?" queried Jack. "You?"

Sandboys gave a significant little nod, and answered modestly, "Well, I had something to do with it; but old Spavinshanks is entitled to some of the credit--most of it, in fact."

The boys settled down on the settee, which, when he was on duty, was Sandboys's throne.

"Tell us about it," they said.

Sandboys glanced anxiously around, and then he shook his head.

"Some other time," he said in a whisper. "When _he_ ain't in ear-shot. He don't know nothin' about it, and if he did he'd be awful mad."

"He" to whom Sandboys so mysteriously alluded was Mr. Bingle, the owner of the Mountain House stables.

"If he ever suspected," continued Sandboys, "he could ruin me. _It was his tackle I used!_"

And with that he was off out of ear-shot, and away from the sharp eyesight of Mr. Bingle, whose glance seemed to penetrate to the core of his conscience, as it is apt always to be when consciences with something weighing upon them are involved.

Later on when he was off duty, and Mr. Bingle was far away, Sandboys made confession to Bob and Jack, and it ran somewhat in this wise:

"The reason I didn't want old Bingle to hear," he explained, "was exactly as I told you. It was his tackle I used with my big haul, and he'd be fightin' mad if he knew who it was as done it. He knew it had been done, of course, but he never knew it was me."

"But I don't see," said Bob. "Using somebody else's tackle isn't any crime. Everybody does it, don't they?"

"It all depends on the tackle," said Sandboys. "Some tackle's more expensive than others, and more easily damaged. Old Bingle holds his at about eighteen dollars a day--and I must say when he got it back it was pretty wet and muddy--'specially old Spavinshanks."

Bob looked at Jack and Jack looked at Bob. Sandboys when he spoke plainly was hard enough to find otherwise than queer, but when he chose to veil his words in mystery, he was even harder to see through than a stone wall. The idea of any man's holding his fishing-tackle at a valuation of eighteen dollars a day was preposterous enough; that he should object to its being brought back wet and muddy was surprising; but the phrase "'specially old Spavinshanks" was absolutely past comprehension.

Jack laughed, however, in spite of his mystification, and said, "Who was old Spavinshanks? The worm?"

"Not a bit of it," returned Sandboys. "Old Spavinshanks was that old gray horse Mr. Bingle paid ten dollars for thirty years ago, and has been earning fifteen dollars a day out of every summer every year since. I borrered him, though Bingle didn't know it, and that's how I came to get the big haul, and my, what a wet and muddy beast he was when he got back into the stable that night! He was so muddy they thought he was the black mare for a minute.

"The way it came about was this. I got word one day that an old schoolmate o' mine I hadn't seen for two years was down at the Flume, and I thought I'd like to go down and see him. So I went to old Bingle, and asked him to let me have a horse and buggy to drive down there in, for, as you know, it's over five miles from here. Bingle looked at me calmly for a second, and said all right. The reg'lar fare down an' back is ten dollars. You can have the rig for six--four dollars off. He knew I couldn't pay it, and I told him so. Well what of it, says he. You don't think I'm keepin' a livery-stable for fun, do ye? No, says I, but I've done lots o' things for you for nothin'; you might do somethin' for me. Well I will, says he. Next winter, when there ain't no call for hoss-and-buggies, you can have the rig free. Now it'll cost you six dollars. That made me mad, an' as it was in days when I didn't think much about right or wrong, not havin' studied theeligy, as I have since, I made up my mind to have the rig, an' have it free. And when I make up my mind to a thing, it's as good as done. I had the rig when night came on an' I was through with my day's work, and old Bingle had locked up for the night and gone to bed--he generally got so tired figerin' up his profits at night he went to bed about half past eight--I sneaked down to the barn, took old Spavinshanks, harnessed him up to the buggy, and started off for the Flume. I spent a very pleasant evening with my friend Silas, and along about eleven o'clock I started back home again. Everything went well until I got up to within a half-mile of the lake, when it began to rain like buckets. I never see such a pour in all my life.

"'Whoa!' says I to old Spav., an' when he come to a standstill I fastened the reins to the whip-stock, an' jumped out to put up the leather cover of the buggy. I wasn't goin' to be drenched if I could help it. Spav. stood still enough whilst I was fixin' the buggy-top and fastenin' down the flaps at the sides. He was a good old horse, and had worked so hard for the money he'd earned for Bingle that he hadn't any false pride about bein' skittish. He was just a tired, sensible old hoss. But there's a limit to what horses'll stand, an' when lightnin' strikes a tree back of 'em, with a noise like a slew of artillery let off all to once, no self-respectin' hoss can be asked to stand quiet. That's what happened. Just as I was gettin' ready to get back into the buggy again, flash! boom! comes the streak, and Spav simply flew off in a great scare. As he approached the lake he shied, an' when he got to the part of the road that's right on the lake he lost his senses and plunged in, the buggy, with the top up, trailin' after him. I was kerflummexed that time, I can tell you. I thought sure Spavinshanks'ld be drownded and the buggy bust, but it didn't happen that way at all. He swam right around the lake, luggin' the buggy right along too, an' by the time I got to the boat-house he was nearin' the shore just beyond. I made a rush for him, and as he came out had him by the bridle, and inside of five minutes we was at the barn. There he was, covered with mud and the buggy just reekin' with fish. There was two hundred an' twenty trout, forty-seven suckers, and 'most a million minnows--every one of 'em caught in the buggy-top!"

"Dear me!" cried Jack. "Really?"

"Yes, really," said Sandboys. "An' that's why there's so few fish left in that lake now. Old Spavinshanks must have hauled that buggy through every blessed school in the place. Which is why I say that while that trout we see to-day was the record trout, he ain't no record haul for one cast, not by a long shot, by hookey."

And the boys agreed with him that it was indeed a marvellous haul, and with a mighty strange kind of tackle too. Nor did they wonder that Sandboys was reluctant to have Mr. Bingle hear of it. Hardly any owner of horses would care to have his horse and buggy used in exactly that way, no matter of how grasping or of how generous a spirit he might be.

The Arlington High-School Polo Team has won the High-School Championship in Massachusetts, winning seventeen games out of nineteen played. Aside from these successes in the League matches the Arlington players have met and defeated nearly all the other high-school teams in the vicinity of Boston, and have played two tie games with the Harvard 'Varsity team, and one tie game with the Cambridge League team, which is considered the strongest in the State.

The championship of the Interscholastic Association in the polo series was won by Cambridge High and Latin; but this school's team has been twice defeated by Arlington, so that it seems only just to award to the latter the credit of being the best school polo team in Massachusetts.

A few words only concerning the individual players. Johnson, the captain, played first rush, and is considered one of the cleverest men at this position. He is a very fast skater. He played on the team last year, and is somewhat of an all-round athlete, holding down centre-field on the nine and playing half-back on the eleven. Puffer, the second rush, was captain of the polo team last year, and in the fall he played tackle on the football eleven. His strong point is the accuracy of his shots, and he is credited with having scored the greatest number of goals during this season.

The half-back position was well played by Pierce, who was a new man, but had had some athletic training on the eleven in the fall, where his position was that of guard. Wood also played half-back, and was on the team the year before. He, too, is a member of the school nine and eleven. The goal was looked after by White, and he did as good work in his position as any of the goal-keepers of the neighborhood. It was his first year as a polo-player, but like the other members of the team he has had football and baseball experience. His brother played centre, and is a veteran, having been a member of last year's team, second base on the nine, and quarter-back on the football team.

The hardest games that Arlington has played were those against the Felton A.A., the Harvard 'Varsity, and Summerville High-School. The Felton team was a very strong one, and after two twenty-minute halves defeated Arlington 1-0. Summerville High also got a game away from Arlington, but in the return match was defeated 4-0 in a fifteen-minute half.

New England Interscholastic League.]

The Interscholastic Baseball Championship Cup, which has been played for for seven years, has finally been awarded to the Cambridge High and Latin School, their team having won it the greatest number of times. This cup is of solid silver, nearly nine inches high, in the form of a loving-cup with handles. In design the bowl rests upon a circular wreath of holly, and the bulge of the bowl itself is decorated with wreaths of wild roses.

The first winner of this cup was the Boston Latin School, which secured it in 1889. In 1890 and '91 Cambridge High and Latin held the trophy, but surrendered it in 1892 to English High, getting it back from them again in 1893. In 1894 C. H. and L. was tied with two other teams for the championship. No award was made that year. Then again in 1895 C. H. and L. was tied with Hopkinson's. No school in the seven years' struggle having made so good a record as Cambridge, the cup is consequently now the permanent property of the school.

The principal feature about the two most important in-door scholastic tournaments held in this city within the last two weeks was the promptitude with which the events were disposed of. As a rule, these in-door games drag along until after the dinner hour; but the Berkeley games were over quite early in the afternoon, and the Barnard games, a week later, took little more time to be decided. The credit in both cases is doubtless largely due to Mr. E. J. Wendell, who acted as referee on both occasions.

As usual, the Berkeley athletes did not enter the competition for points in the cup contest, leaving it to their guests to struggle for this trophy. But in spite of this they took more points than any of the other schools, leading with 3 firsts, 1-1/2 seconds, and 1-1/2 thirds, a total of 21 points. Barnard captured the prize with 2 firsts, 2 seconds, and 2 thirds--making a total of 18 points. The Jerseymen from Pingry School made a strong showing on this occasion and scored 2 firsts and 2 seconds, earning 16 points, and thus coming in a close second to Barnard.

One of the most interesting performances of the afternoon was Paulding's vaulting, the height he reached being 10 ft. 6 in., which is two inches higher than the in-door record established by him only a short time ago. We may, indeed, look for some excellent work in this event at the Madison Square Garden games next Saturday. Another record that was broken at the Berkeley games was the shot put, Bigelow going 41 ft., which is considerably beyond the former mark of 39 ft. 8-1/2 in. Tomlinson, who took second to Bigelow, also passed the old record.

Another mark that was lowered was that of the 60-yard dash for Juniors, which now stands 7-1/5 sec., and the deed was done by Whitmore. Manvel of Pingry did well, as usual, but he did particularly well on this occasion by winning both the quarter and the half mile runs. The mile event went to Tomlinson of Barnard, and the walk was taken by Ladd, although Boyesen had been counted on for the winner.

At the Barnard games the record of 7-1/5 sec. for the 60-yard dash (Senior) was lowered by Wenman of Berkeley to 7 sec. Tomlinson, who won the mile run at the Berkeley games, also took first at the Barnard tournament, and brought the record down to 4.49-1/5, which was a much better performance than he made the week previous--5 min. 1-3/5 sec. At these games Pingry again showed up well, and tied with the Brooklyn High-School for first place, each having scored 11 points.

As these last two in-door scholastic games are undoubtedly the most important that will be held in the city this winter, it may prove of value in making some sort of a prognostication of what will happen at the Madison Square Garden next Saturday to append the summaries:

THE BERKELEY GAMES.

60-yard Dash, Senior.--First heat won by Byrd Wenman, Berkeley; H.
Cadenas, Columbia Grammar, second. Time, 7-1/5 seconds. Second heat
won by C. A. Sulzer, Pingry; B. T. Doudge, Blake School, second.
Time, 7 seconds. Third heat won by J. Holland, Barnard; S.
Millbank, Trinity, second. Time, 7-1/5 seconds. Fourth heat won by
Ira Richards, "Poly. Prep."; W. S. Hipple, Barnard, second. Time,
7-1/5 seconds. Extra heat, for second men, won by H. Cadenas. Time,
7-1/5 seconds. Final heat won by Wenman; Sulzer, second; Holland,
third. Time, 7 seconds.

60-yard Dash, Junior.--First heat won by W. Silleck, Barnard. Time,
7-2/5 seconds. Second heat won by G. Whitmore, Dwight. Time, 7-1/5
seconds. Third heat won by J. Lackey, Brooklyn High. Time, 7-1/5
seconds. Fourth heat won by J. Deering, Berkeley. Time, 7-3/5
seconds. Fifth heat won by W. Sartorius, Barnard. Time, 7-2/5
seconds. Sixth heat won by W. Dougherty, Harvard. Time, 7-2/5
seconds. Final heat won by Whitmore; Lackey, second; Sartorius,
third. Time, 7-1/5 seconds.

440-yard Run.--Won by H. E. Manvel, Pingry; J. Storms, Barnard,
second; B. Campbell, Brooklyn High, third. Time, 55-3/5 seconds.

880-yard Run.--Won by H. E. Manvel, Pingry; A. Tomlinson, Barnard,
second; B. White, Berkeley, third. Time, 2 minutes 9-1/5 seconds.

One-mile Run.--Won by A. Tomlinson, Barnard; P. H. Christensen,
Harvard, second; R. L. Sanford, "Poly. Prep.," third. Time, 5
minutes 1-3/5 seconds.

60-yard Hurdle-race.--First heat won by F. Bien, Jun., Berkeley; C.
Robinson, Trinity, second. Time, 8 seconds. Second heat won by
C. A. O'Rourke, Trinity; L. Herrick, Brooklyn High, second. Time, 8
seconds. Third heat won by S. H. Plum, Jun., Newark Academy; E.
Johnson, Trinity, second. Time, 8-1/5 seconds. Final heat won by
Bien; O'Rourke, second; Herrick, third. Time, 8 seconds.

One-mile Walk.--Won by H. W. Ladd, Melrose; B. Boylesen, Berkeley,
second; D. McGrew, Trinity, third. Time, 8 minutes 9-3/5 seconds.

Running High Jump.--Won by G. Serviss, Brooklyn Latin, with 5 feet
7 inches; C. L. Du Val, Berkeley, second, with 5 feet 6 inches; W.
Grace, Columbia Grammar, third, with 5 feet 6 inches. Du Val got
second place on the toss.

Pole Vault.--Won by R. G. Paulding, Berkeley, with 10 feet 6
inches, beating the in-door scholastic record of 10 feet 4 inches,
made by himself earlier in the year; P. A. Moore, Pingry, second,
with 9 feet; L. Curtis, Barnard, A. J. Forney, Adelphi, and M. W.
Forney, Adelphi, a tie for third at 8 feet 9 inches.

Putting 12-pound Shot.--Won by J. Stewart, Barnard, with 41 feet,
breaking the in-door record of 39 feet 8-1/2 inches, made by R. H.
Bigelow, Wilson and Kellogg, in 1893; J. C. Tomlinson, Jun.,
Collegiate, second, with 40 feet 4 inches; M. Page, Trinity, third,
with 38 feet 4 inches.

THE BARNARD GAMES.

60-yard Dash, Senior.--First heat won by A. Kennedy, Brooklyn High;
M. Arnold, Berkeley, second. Time, 7-2/5 seconds. Second heat won
by B. Wenman, Berkeley; B. T. Doudge, Blake, second. Time, 7
seconds. Third heat won by J. Holland, Barnard; H. Cadenas,
Columbia Grammar, second. Time, 7 seconds. Fourth heat won by S.
Millbank, Trinity; A. Manara, Columbia Grammar, second. Time, 7-2/5
seconds. Extra trial, for second men, won by Doudge. Time, 7
seconds. Final heat won by Wenman; Holland, second; Doudge, third.
Time, 7 seconds.

60-yard Dash, Junior.--First heat won by W. B. Sartorius, Barnard;
G. Ralph, Collegiate, second. Time, 7-2/5 seconds. Second heat won
by H. Leopold, Dwight; J. B. Smith, Collegiate, second. Time, 7-1/5
seconds. Third heat won by F. Wickham, Pratt Institute; A. Meyers,
Pingry, second. Time, 7-1/5 seconds. Fourth heat won by V.
Dougherty, Harvard; R. Auchincloss, Cutler, second. Time, 7-1/5
seconds. Fifth heat won by C. Warren, Cutler; A. Lackey, Brooklyn
High, second. Time, 7-2/5 seconds. Sixth heat won by G. Whitmore,
Dwight; E. Bill, Cutler, second. Time, 7-1/5 seconds. Final
heat--Whitmore and Wickham, a dead heat; Sartorius, third. Time,
6-4/5 seconds. Run-off won by Whitmore. Time, 7-1/5 seconds.

220-yard Run, Senior.--First heat won by H. Ficke, Barnard; M. D.
Evans, Oxford, second. Time, 26-4/5 seconds. Second heat won by Ira
Richards, Polytechnic Preparatory Institute; B. Wenman, Berkeley,
second. Time, 26-2/5 seconds. Third heat won by E. Pury, Barnard;
R. Topping, Adelphi, second. Time, 27 seconds. Final heat won by
Richards; Pury, second; Wenman, third. Time, 25-3/5 seconds.

220-yard Run, Junior.--First heat won by W. B. Sartorius, Barnard;
J. B. Smith, Collegiate, second. Time, 27 seconds. Second heat won
by F. Wickham, Pratt Institute; A. Myers, Pingry, second. Time,
26-2/5 seconds. Third heat won by R. McClave, Trinity; J. Ralph,
Collegiate, second. Time, 28-4/5 seconds. Fourth heat won by A.
Lackey, Brooklyn High; V. Dougherty, Harvard, second. Time, 27
seconds. Final heat won by Wickham; Lackey, second; Myers, third.
Time, 25-3/5 seconds.

440-yard Run.--Won by H. E. Manvel, Pingry; G. Burlingame, Brooklyn
High, second; V. Earle, Barnard, third. Time, 56-1/5 seconds.

880-yard Run.--Won by H. E. Manvel, Pingry; A. Tomlinson, Barnard,
second; J. Beasly, Adelphi, third. Time, 2 minutes 9-3/5 seconds.

One-mile Run.--Won by A. Tomlinson, Barnard; P. H. Christensen,
Harvard, second; R. L. Sanford, Polytechnic Preparatory Institute,
third. Time, 4 minutes 49-1/5 seconds.

60-yard Hurdle-race.--First heat won by L. Herrick, Brooklyn High;
W. Halsey, Barnard, second. Time, 8 seconds. Second heat won by T.
Pell, Berkeley; S. H. Plum, Newark Academy, second. Time, 8
seconds. Third heat won by C. O'Rourke, Trinity; G. Smith, Columbia
Grammar, second. Time, 8-1/5 seconds. Extra heat, for second men,
won by Halsey. Time, 8-1/5 seconds. Final heat won by Herrick;
Pell, second; O'Rourke, third. Time, 7-4/5 seconds.