Chapter I: Front Matter

Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1895. FIVE CENTS A COPY.

VOL. XVI.--NO. 832. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

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THE COPPERTOWN "STAR" ROUTE.

BY W. G. VAN TASSEL SUTPHEN.

The Happy Thought, as will be remembered by those who have read "The Longmeadow Toll-Gate," was a new departure in bicycle construction. Although provided with pedals that could be used in an emergency, its real motive-power was derived from naphtha applied through a pair of cylinders built upon a modification of the hot-air principle, and working directly upon the rear wheel. The oil was admitted drop by drop to the cylinders, mixed with air, and then exploded by a spark from an electric storage battery. The speed was regulated by the flow of oil, and the operator had only to touch a hand-lever to get any rate he wanted from one up to thirty miles an hour. The power could be instantly shut down either by closing the oil valve or by cutting off the electric current. Finally, the machinery had but few working parts, and was therefore not liable to get out of order, and in its operation it was absolutely safe, there being no boiler, and consequently no possibility of an explosion.

The Happy Thought, which had been built by Mr. March for his son Fred, was a double machine, the steersman occupying the front saddle and the engineer sitting behind. In general appearance the Happy Thought resembled the ordinary "tandem," the only noticeable difference being in its huge pneumatic tires, which were fully four inches in diameter. The idea was that they would ride more easily over rough roads, would not slip in mud nor sink in sand, and would be less liable to puncture.

It was nearly a year since that memorable night when Fred March and his partner, Jack Howard, had run down the bank robbers, and the Happy Thought had saved the Jefferson Court-House Bank $20,000 in hard cash. Within the last six months copper of fine quality had been discovered in the hills west of Fairacre, capital had been attracted, a smelting plant was in process of erection, and business was booming. The works of the Copper Company were situated some thirty miles away, and a large force of men were working night and day to get the plant in running order. The company were building a branch road to connect with the railway that ran ten miles to the east of Fairacre, but at present the only means of communication with the outside world was the wagon-road, which had been constructed over Razor-Back Ridge. The government had been persuaded to establish a "Star" mail route from Fairacre to the copper camp, and Fred, with the assistance of his father, had succeeded in obtaining the contract for himself and Jack. It was a semi-weekly route, the trip days being Tuesdays and Fridays, and for two months the Happy Thought had run regularly between the two places, leaving Fairacre at one o'clock in the afternoon and returning the same night.

It was shortly before one o'clock on Friday, the 31st of August, and the Happy Thought was standing in front of the Fairacre Post-office, ready for her regular run. Jack, oil-can in hand, was giving a last look to the bearings, while Fred, with the mail-bag strapped to his shoulders, stood by occasionally glancing at his watch. It was almost time to start, but the boys were also agents for the express company, and Mr. Simmons, the Fairacre agent, seemed to be in no hurry about making up his consignment.

"One o'clock," growled Fred. "I don't believe he has anything for us to-day;" and then catching sight of a beckoning finger through the dusty window-pane, "Come on, Jack, he wants to see us both."

"This way," said Mr. Simmons, briefly, leading the boys to the back room. The room looked into an enclosed yard, but Mr. Simmons drew the curtains carefully. Then going to his safe, he unlocked it, and took out a thick square package. "To-morrow is pay-day at the works," he said, slowly, "and there's wages for three months coming to the men. The company always has it sent up by express from the city, and $10,000 is a tidy little sum," he concluded, tapping the package gently with his knuckles.

"Of course we'll be careful," began Fred.

"In course you mean to be," interrupted Mr. Simmons, gravely; "but I know what boys are, and you're awful careless about your receipts."

Fred blushed as he remembered an entry on the Tuesday book for which they had somehow neglected to obtain the necessary signature that acknowledged delivery.

Mr. Simmons slipped the package in the express bag, locked it, and handed it to Jack. "Good-by and good luck," he added, "and be sure you get your receipt."

The bag with its precious freight was quickly strapped to Jack's back, and a few moments later the Happy Thought was ploughing down the dusty road at twenty miles an hour.

The distance to the copper-works was a trifle over thirty miles, but at least twelve miles of it was steady up-hill work. Once across Razor-Back Ridge, it was better travelling, and the Happy Thought generally made the whole trip in a few minutes over two hours. The road was reasonably smooth and hard, but the afternoon sun was hot, and the boys thought longingly of the cool woods that covered the further side of the ridge. However, the Happy Thought pushed steadily along, and they had nothing to do but to keep her on her course.

"Fifteen minutes late," said Fred, as they slid gently over the summit, and slowed down to oil the working parts. "But it's an easy run, now, and we'll be in Coppertown by half past three--that is, if nobody stops us on the way," he added, with a short laugh.

"But you don't think--" exclaimed Jack, looking up.

"Of course I don't; but there may be more persons than one who know of the money that's going through to-day. There isn't a house between here and Coppertown, and you know that 'Smooth Jim' broke jail ten days ago, and is with his gang again."

Jack looked disturbed.

"But I don't expect to see the gentleman, and anyway we can run if we can't fight--eh, old girl?" and Fred gave the Happy Thought an affectionate pat as he sprang into his saddle.

"I suppose it's what we're carrying that makes me feel nervous," thought Fred, as they rolled smoothly along in the cool dense shadow of the beech-wood. "There's half-way," he muttered a few moments later, as a blasted pine-tree flashed past. "We are doing better now, and the machinery is working like a watch. That was a great improvement to muffle the sound of the exhaust; we run along as quietly as a cat walking on velvet."

There was a touch on his shoulder, and the Happy Thought came to a dead stop.

"Against orders, I know," said Jack, leaning forward and speaking under his breath, "but look back there."

The dead pine-tree was still visible some four hundred yards away, but there was something fluttering from one of its branches--a piece of red flannel rag.

"A signal," said Fred, shortly, "and it means that somebody is after us--after _that_," and he pointed to the express bag. "We've got to go on, for some one is certainly behind us. We can't stay here and be gobbled up, and a rabbit could hardly get through that laurel scrub. Besides, there's just a chance that it doesn't mean anything, after all. We'll run ahead carefully, and if it comes to the worst, we'll cut everything loose and make a dash for it. There's nothing short of a rifle-bullet that can catch us."

"Let her go," returned Jack, briefly.

A quarter of a mile further, and the boys began to breathe easier. They were on Breakneck Hill now, and there was nothing suspicious in the look ahead. Half-way down, and as they swung around a curve Fred's heart suddenly seemed to leap up into his mouth. His eye had caught the momentary gleam of something moving in the thick foliage that bordered the road at the bottom of the hill. He recognized it in an instant--the silver mounting of a pistol. He turned and shouted to Jack.

"Crack! crack!" and Fred felt the wind of a bullet as it sung past. "Crack! crack!" but that was wider of the mark. The Happy Thought under full speed had bounded down the hill, and the danger-point was passed. He could hear faint shouts behind him and the short quick tramp of horses' hoofs. Was it possible that they had escaped?

With fingers tightly clutched on the handle-bars Fred kept the Happy Thought in the middle of the road. The road-bed was smooth and hard, but the front wheel was acting oddly. There was something that looked like a white patch on the tire, and, yes, there could be no doubt about it, it was leaking badly. Evidently the tire had been cut by a bullet, and in a few seconds more the air would be out of it. Just ahead was a curve which for the moment would put them out of sight; they must stop in time to take to the woods. In his excitement Fred put his hand behind him and shut off the oil. The Happy Thought stopped just around the curve, and Fred jumped off and looked around.

_Jack and the express bag had disappeared._

In his bewilderment and dismay Fred hardly knew how he managed to get himself and the Happy Thought under cover before the pursuing horsemen swept by at a slashing gallop. There were four of them in all, heavily armed, and with their faces half concealed by clumsy masks. Fred recognized "Smooth Jim" in the leader of the party, and the sight was not reassuring, even though he was now looking at that gentleman's back. Half mechanically he got out his repair kit, and began to patch the leaking tire. "Where was Jack?" was the question that seemed to dance in letters of fire before his eyes. Could he be lying back there in the road with a bullet in his head? Was he a prisoner?

But wait a moment. If Jack was in their hands, why had _he_ been chased? The money was in the bag strapped to Jack's back, and the money was what they were after. But wait again. Was he sure that the horsemen were pursuing him? Might they not have been making their own escape, having secured their booty? In that case Jack had been left behind, wounded or dead. There was but one thing to do, and that was to steal cautiously back and find out.

It had taken Fred some ten minutes to mend the tire and come to this conclusion. At the point where he had made his way into the thicket a small brook, locally called a "branch," crossed the road, and he had been sitting on its bank. As he rose to his feet he happened to glance upstream. There was something floating down with the current. Only a piece of bark. But stop! The little craft carried a miniature mast made from a hazel twig, and in the cleft at its top there was something white--a bit of folded paper.

A signal! A message! Fred watched it eagerly as it came nearer. Twice it grounded against an overhanging branch, but the current swung it clear again. A moment more, and it was in his grasp. A note, and in Jack's handwriting. Fred tore it open.

"Make no noise. Don't go out on road. There is a scout on each
side of you. I am a hundred yards upstream with a sprained ankle.
Can you get the H. T. up here without noise? Have a plan.

"JACK."

A few minutes later and Jack was telling his story. He had been pitched off his seat by a sudden lurch just as the Happy Thought began her headlong rush down the hill, but had alighted unhurt in a clump of laurel. Seeing that Fred had safely run the gauntlet, he had made his way into the scrub and worked cautiously down the hill, keeping parallel with the road. On coming to a little bluff that overhung the stream he had caught sight of Fred in his covert by the road-side, and also of the horsemen who had started in to beat the bushes. A shout would have betrayed them both. He must creep down and give Fred warning. Unfortunately, in descending the bluff he slipped and sprained his ankle. Capture seemed certain. And then came a brilliant thought. The water that flowed past him also ran by Fred. Might it not carry the warning message? The rest you know.

Jack had spent the time in making for himself a rough pair of crutches, and was now able to hobble along.

"A quarter of a mile further upstream there's an old wood-road," he went on, in answer to Fred's eager query. "I can manage to take care of myself if you can get the machine up there. The road will take us straight into Coppertown, and we'll save the money yet."

It was difficult work up the stony bed of the branch, but it was finally accomplished, and the Happy Thought was again under way, though at a reduced speed, for the wood road was not in very good repair. Three, five, ten miles, and the boys began to breathe freely. It looked as though fortune had turned in their favor at last.

"It seems to have grown hazy," said Fred, a few moments later, "and the sky and the sun are as yellow as gold."

"My eyes are smarting," returned Jack, with a cough. "I believe it's smoke; and look there!"

A number of birds were flying over their heads, chattering and squawking wildly.

"They fly as though they were frightened," said Fred, soberly. "Why, there are all kinds--quail, blue-jays, wood-cock, and even a couple of crows."

A deer burst from the thicket and came galloping past them, with eyes starting in terror and dilated nostrils. The woods seemed suddenly alive with rabbits and other small game, all fleeing as though for their lives.

"The woods," gasped Fred--"they are on fire!"

From their position of the moment they could get an extended view around. To their dismay the fire was already on three sides of them and rapidly closing in. They could not go back, the wind was driving the flames directly across the road behind them. The only chance was ahead, and it was full two miles to the open. In any event they would have to make a final dash through the flames.

It was little that Fred could afterwards recall of that wild ride. The smoke came in thick eddying, blinding, suffocating gusts, and cinders, first black and then redly alive, fell thick about them.

"Another half-mile," thought Fred, desperately, as the Happy Thought bounced along over the rough road, now lurching to one side and now to another, but keeping her feet like a circus acrobat.

A turn in the road and he could see the open, but it was a flaming curtain that hung between; the fire was across the road. And what was that that lay directly athwart their path, and in the very centre of the fiery furnace? It was a log some eight or ten inches in diameter.

It was a snap decision, but Fred recognized that it meant certain death to stop. To put the Happy Thought straight at the obstruction, like a steeple-chaser at a hurdle--it was a slim chance, but the only one. He could feel the hot breath of the fire on his cheeks, the pungent smoke was gripping his throat like a vise. "Hold hard!" and at thirty miles an hour Fred felt the Happy Thought strike the rounded surface of the log fair and square. The slightest possible shock, and they seemed to be sailing on, on, on, into endless space.

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When he opened his eyes he was lying on the counter in the Copper Company's office, with the superintendent bending over him.

"All right, my boy?"

"Where's Jack--and the Happy Thought?"

"Safe and sound. Your partner could steer the machine from his seat, you know, and you were so wedged in that you could not fall. And I was driving past and saw you."

"And the money--it's safe?" Fred sat up and pointed to the package lying on the counter.

"That! Why, that's some porous plasters I ordered from the city. Glad you brought them up for me."

"Porous plasters!"

The superintendent laughed. "My dear boy, you brought the money with you on your Tuesday trip. I thought you didn't know it, for you forgot to take my receipt. I've just signed for it now."

"That's what Mr. Simmons meant by being careful," put in Jack. "He never actually said that the money was in _this_ package."

"Well," said Fred, after a pause, "there were some other people that got fooled too--'Smooth Jim,' for instance."

"And we've got him," returned the superintendent, grimly. "We were looking for a job of this kind, and that is why the money was sent up Tuesday. The fire drove them out of the woods plump into the sheriff's arms."

"Tell me," said Fred to Jack, when they were alone, "how in the world did the Happy Thought ever jump that big log?"

"Big log! Why, Fred, you're dreaming. Wait a minute; I do remember going over a bean-pole just before you fainted."

"Oh," said Fred, shortly.

"I declare," grumbled Mr. Simmons the next day, as he looked at the express-book, "you boys are awful careless. You never got a receipt for them porous plasters."

FRIENDS.

Never a flower so debonair,
And full of a gallant grace,
As the golden-rod that on ledge or sod
Seeks but a foothold's spare.
Asking not for the garden's bed,
Shelter or care at all,
Standing with pride by the highway side,
Or climbing the mountain wall.

Ever beside her own true knight
The dear little aster lifts
Her purple bloom, in light or gloom,
Clothing ravines and rifts
With a royal robe that is fair to see,
While she answers back the nod,
Queenly and bright, on vale and height,
Of her lover, the golden-rod.

MARGARET E. SANGSTER.

THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF THE CHILDREN OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

Patriotism, that powerful and ennobling sentiment, has always in America taken a deep hold upon the hearts of its people, and to-day the love of home and country is as strong and permanent there as in the early colonial period or the thrilling times of '76.

Within the past few years the formation of the many patriotic orders of men and women has done much to rouse afresh and to extend the feeling of national pride and devotion, and now the children of America are to have this same impetus, for the National Society of the Children of the American Revolution is already founded, and rapidly gathering within its hospitable doors the children and youth from all over the land. And the best part of it is that although only lineal descendants of colonial and Revolutionary ancestors may become regular members, an invitation and warm welcome are extended to all children of no matter what ancestry or nationality, to join in the public gatherings of the society, and to enjoy its pleasures and benefits. In this way the true spirit of patriotism may reach every boy and girl, and there is no limit to the society's scope or influence. This movement may thus be said to be one of the broadest and most beneficent yet started, and one that will tend to popularize the work of the public schools toward patriotism and good government.

At the age of eighteen years the girls may pass into the ranks of the Daughters of the American Revolution, while their brothers at twenty-one enter the Sons of the American Revolution.

The idea of having a young folks' organization first originated with Mrs. Daniel Lothrop, known in every household numbering children as "Margaret Sidney," author of that much-loved book _Five Little Peppers_, and a score of others. Such a happy and far-reaching scheme was sure to be the thought of just such a woman as Mrs. Lothrop, for her warm heart and fertile brain have always been busy in helping boys and girls.

At the last Continental Congress of the Daughters of the American Revolution, held in Washington in February, Mrs. Lothrop, who is Regent of the Old Concord Chapter of that society, laid her plan before the feminine representatives gathered from all parts of the Union, and they unanimously voted that such an organization should be formed, with Mrs. Lothrop at its head. Later she was elected its president for four years, with power to organize the society in accordance with her own judgment and regulations.

Thus on April 5, 1895, the new association was founded in Washington, its permanent headquarters, and six days later was incorporated under the Laws of Congress. It will soon be in full swing, for a vast number of big and little boys and girls all over the country are enrolling themselves as its members. And what a delightful vista opens before these juvenile representatives!

They say in their constitution: "We, the children and youth of America, in order to know more about our country from its formation, and thus to grow up into good citizens, with a love for and an understanding of the principles and institutions of our ancestors, do unite under the guidance and government of the Daughters of the American Revolution in the society to be called the National Society of the Children of the American Revolution. All children and youth of America, of both sexes, from birth to the age of eighteen years for the girls and twenty-one for the boys, may join this society, provided they descend in direct line from patriotic ancestors who helped to plant or to perpetuate this country in the Colonies or in the Revolutionary War, or in any other way. We take for objects in this society the acquisition of knowledge of American history, so that we may understand and love our country better, and then any patriotic work that will help us to that end, keeping a constant endeavor to influence all other children and youth to the same purpose. To help to save the places made sacred by the American men and women who forwarded American independence; to find out and to honor the lives of children and youth of the Colonies and of the American Revolution; to promote the celebration of all patriotic anniversaries; to place a copy of the Declaration of Independence and other patriotic documents in every place appropriate for them; and to hold our American flag sacred above every other flag. In short, to follow the injunctions of Washington, who in his youth served his country, till we can perform the duties of good citizens. And to love, uphold, and extend the institutions of American liberty, and the principles that made and saved our country."

The membership fees are fifty cents the first year, and twenty-five cents each succeeding year.

The young members are forming into many local societies or chapters, under their own control, but each one guided by a president chosen from among the Daughters of the American Revolution, who has only the good of her young charges at heart. In this way the latter will learn how to rule a body of individuals, old or young, according to parliamentary law, just as the United States Senate and House of Representatives are ruled. It will also teach them to be just and logical in their words and actions. Then they are going to strive above all else to be God-fearing young citizens, to reverence and uphold the fundamental truths of their country, and to respect each other's rights.

After these first sober considerations will come the amusements. One of the society's vice-presidents, Mrs. James R. McKee, daughter of ex-President Benjamin Harrison, has proposed the idea that the members be regularly taught by a professional musician to correctly sing by heart all the national hymns. Such a training in childhood would inspire the young heads and hearts for a lifetime with a profound love and loyalty for the spot which is home to them all, whether by inheritance or adoption.

Perhaps the best way to gain an insight into the future work and recreation of the society is to glance at the doings of the first local society, founded May 11th, at Concord, Massachusetts, the town of the "Old North Bridge," by Mrs. Lothrop herself. On the 18th of June a reading circle was formed on the grounds of "The Wayside," Mrs. Lothrop's home, and the former abiding-place of Hawthorne and Louisa M. Alcott, where the latter lived "Little Women" with her sisters, and wrote it. Three or four young ladies and gentlemen lent their services, and read history to the children. They all meet every fortnight for a couple of hours in the afternoon and read the _Life of Washington_, John Fiske's _American Revolution_, or any appropriate historical book or sketches connected with the early history of the nation. A committee of boys and girls is elected to select the readers for each meeting, and also the games to be played. Then excursions are made to different historical spots; one was to Sudbury, where Longfellow's Wayside Inn stands. The children had the _Tales of a Wayside Inn_ read to them before starting, and spent several hours on the spot, taking luncheon along, and going over the old house leisurely. This fall a party of the children under Mrs. Lothrop's care are to make a series of historical trips to Old Boston and its vicinity. Sometimes the Concord Chapter draws up a plan as if going on one of these journeys, and then with maps and books and little speeches the children have an hour or two of pleasant travelling without actually taking the tour.

In each local society the youthful members may put their heads together and originate all sorts of delightful and enterprising ways of promoting their serious aims, while leaving time for pleasant diversions.

The nation's worthiest and most distinguished men and women are lending their personal aid and encouragement to the young society. In each State the Governor and his wife with other leaders along various lines stand as its sponsors.

Already many youthful descendants of America's early heroes have flocked to the society's standard, among them the grandchildren of Mr. and Mrs. John W. Foster, little Mary Lodge and Benjamin Harrison (Baby) McKee, and Robert John Walker, great-great-great-great-grandson of Benjamin Franklin.

It is hoped and believed by all interested in the organization that its aims and endeavors will tend to indelibly impress on the minds of youthful Americans the great lessons of national importance that have made the country what it is, and that before the society stretches away a future of usefulness almost incalculable in the possibility of its issues.

KING KALAKAU'S ARMY.

Old King Kalakau I., of the Sandwich Islands, had an army that numbered by actual count thirty men, and was so proud of his formidable battalion that he obliged it to go through its drill twice daily under the palace windows. On every possible occasion he had his phalanx parade, and was supremely happy when visited by commanding officers of the different cruisers in the Pacific, for it gave him an opportunity to receive them at the landing-place with all his military force drawn up in honor of his guests. One day an English man-o'-war entered the harbor, and the flag-officer on board sent word to his coffee-colored majesty that he would pay him a visit. Instead of waiting in his palace to receive the officer, the King sent to the barracks, had his army hunted up, and at their head marched down to the quay, where he formed his legion in line, then sat down on the edge of the dock to await his coming guest.

Now in some way the old King had just obtained a number of blue cloth army overcoats, together with a lot of spurs, flint-lock muskets, and big bear-skin hats, such as are worn by drum-majors. Under the broiling tropical sun his warlike host stood, two ranks deep, the heavy overcoats about them, spurs strapped on bare feet, and their heads supporting the enormous hats, while their muskets were pointed in every conceivable direction.

At last the Commodore's barge was seen to leave the ship and make for the landing. The King hastily took his position in front of his army, and as the English officer stood up in his boat to leave it, the King called out to "fire and present arms."

Then the funniest thing of all happened.

The men in the rear rank did not elevate their muskets sufficiently, and the consequence was that the next minute the air was full of fur and remnants of bear-skin hats blown away from the heads of the soldiers in front. In another moment the disgusted and angry King was chasing his demoralized and panic-stricken army up the dock, belaboring every one of them that he overtook with his royal mace.

The scene was too much for the dignity of the English Commodore, who fell back in the stern-sheets of his boat almost strangled with laughter.

SEA RANGERS.

BY KIRK MUNROE,

AUTHOR OF "ROAD RANGERS," THE "MATE" SERIES, "SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES," ETC.