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J - , ^ Jy i L ' W ^ , * 4 ' k v V „ » • 1 .. <"- - . < m ,.••:•&. t 13 I * r ' !.< „ . .£-. . ,„_J SYNOPSIS* Philip Cayley, accused ef » oHaw of which he Is not guilty, resigns from th« army In disgrace and his affection for his friend, Lieut. Perry Hunter, turns to hatred. Cayley seeks solituiit;, where M perfects a flying machine. While soaring ov«r the Arctic regions, he picks up a curiously shaped stick he had seen In the assassin's hand. Mounting again, he dis­ covers a yacht anchored In the bay. De­ scending near the steamer, he meets a gtrl on an ice floe. He learns that the girl's name Is Jeanne Fielding and that the yacht has come north to seek signs of her father, Captain Fielding, an arctic explorer. A party from the yacht la ma­ king search ashore. After Oayley departs Jeanne finds that he had dropped a cu­ riously-shaped stick. Captain Planck and the surviving crew of wrecked whaler are in hiding on the coast. A giant ruf­ fian named Roacoe, had murdered Field lng and his two companions, after the ex­ plore r had revealed the location of an enormous ledge of pure gold. Roscoe then took command of the party. It develops that the ruffian had committed the mur­ der witnessed by Cayley. Roscoe plans to capture the yacht and escape with a big load ot gold. Jeanne tells Fanshaw, owner of the yacht, about the visit of the sky-man and shows him the stick left by Cayley. Fanshaw declares that it Is an Eskimo throwing-stick, used to shoot darts. Tom Fanshaw returns from the searching party with a sprained ankle. Perry Hunter Is found murdered and Cayley is accused of the crime but Jeanne believes him innocent. A relief party goes to find the searchers. Tom professes his love for Jeatine. She rows ashore and enters an abandoned hut. and there flnds her father's diary, which discloses the ex­ plorer's suspicion of Roscoe. The ruf­ fian returns to the hut and Bees Jeanne. He is Intent on murder, when the sky­ man swoops down and the ruffian flees. Jeanne gives Cayley her father's diary to read. The yacht disappears and Ros- coe's plans to capture It are revealed. Jeanne's only hope is In Cayley. The seriousness of their situation becomes ap- fiarent to Jeanne and the sky-man. Cay-ey kills a polar bear. Next he finds a clue to the hiding place of the stores. Roscoe is about to attack the girl when he Is sent fleeing in terror by the sight of the sky-man swooping down. Measures are taken to fortify the hut. Cayley kills a wounded polar bear and receives the first intimation that Roscoe possesses firearms. A fissure In the Ice yields up Hunter's body and Roscoe, finding It, re­ moves the dead man's rifle. He discovers that Cayley is a human being and not a spirit. The ruffian is baffled in his plan to murder Cayley when the latter and Jeanne take refuge in the cave where a furious storm keeps them Imprisoned. They confess their love for each other. Cayley, resolving to seek the ruffian and kill him, finds Roscoe's cave, but the enemy Is not there. He picks up a fa­ miliar-looking locket and denarts. Ros­ coe nas taken advantage of Cayley's ab­ sence to force his way into where Jeanne is. Cayley returns, and a fight ensues, in which Roscoe la killed. , CHAPTER XXII--Continued. • The perception came to him m a memory, "and tn memoir It teemed to be Jeanne's voice. No.w, unless his wits were wander­ ing, he heard it again, and it called his name. He was half incredulous of Its reality, even as he answered It. But the -next moment, before he could ex­ tricate himself from his places, or even attempt to get to his feet, he 'elt the pressure ot her body, as she knelt over him. CHAPTER XXIII. 8lgnals. • There were a good many days after that--not days at all, really, but an In­ terminable period of night--which were broken for Jeanne by no ray of V)pe whatever. iShe kept Philip and herself alive, from day to day, and this occupation left her hardly time enough to think whether there was anything to hope for or not Much of the time Philip was deliri­ ous; sometimes violently so, and yet she often had to leave him. When she did so, it was with no certainty at all that she would find him alive upon her return. At last the conviction was forced upon her that Philip was actually on t!n road to rsccvsry. Ills delirium be­ came less violent and occurred at long­ er intervals. The frightful condition of his wounds began visibly to im­ prove. Instinctively she resisted this conviction as long as she could, refus­ ing almost passionately to begin to hope--for the return of hope brought an almost Intolerable pain with it Without hope there had been no fear, no apprehension--Just as in a frozen limb there is no pain. But, as the pos­ sibility of his recovery became plain­ er, the slenderness of the thread by which his life was hanging became plainer, too. A thousand chances which shd could not guard against might cut the thread and destroy \he hope new-born. He was able, at last, after a long Bleep and a really hearty meal of sus­ taining food--which she hardly dared give him--to get up and walk out of their shelter to the star-vaulted beach. Fifty paces or so was all he was equal to; but at the end of the little prom­ enade he expressed a disinclination to go back to the stuffy little shed which had been the scene of his long illness. The clean, wide, boundless air was bringing back the zest for life to him. So Jeanne brought out from the hut a great bundle of furs and made a nest of them on the beach, and there he lay back and she sat down beside him. "Do you remember, Jeanne," he e&ld, "the first time we sat out like this, there on the ice-floe beside the Aurora, and I told you how I had learned to fly?" She locked her hand into his before •he answered. **I couldn't believe that night that I wasn't dreaming," she said softly. "N<$r I, either," he told her; "and, somehow, I can't believe it now--not fully;--tot this part of it anyway." He had lifted the hand that was kA BSTFR _ V-RsGHT"(9?<0 0V THf CENTURV CO COPYRIGHT IVtOftV THfc locked into his and pressed it to his lips before he spcks. There was a silence after that Then, with a little effort the girl spoke. "Philip, do you remember my say­ ing what a contempt you must have for the world that didn't know how to fly? Do you remember that and the answer you made to it?" He nodded. "Philip, is that still there? Your contempt, I mean, for the world?" "I don't believe," he said, "that you can even ask that seriously--you, who gave me first my soul back again and then, in these last weeks, my, life. For it's been your life that has lived in me these last days--they must be a good many--Just as It was your warmth and faith and fragrance that gave me back my soul, long ago." He paused a moment; then, when *?e went on his voice had a somewhat different quality. "But the other contempt Jeanne, that still exists, or would ex­ ist if I gave it the chance, the world's contempt for me. Not even your faith could shake that" She had been half-reclining beside him, but now she sat erect purposeful­ ly, like one who has taken a resolu­ tion. "I'm not so sure of that" she said, in *a matter-of-fact tone, though there was an undercurrent of excitement in It "Philip, I have been trying to solve a puzzle since you were 11L I hoped I could solve it by myself. If I were intelligent enough I'm sure I could; but I'll have to ask you to help me It's a string of letters written around a picture, in a locket" "A locket of yours?" he asked, sur­ prised. "Never mind about that Just? now." She spoke hastily and the undercur­ rent of excitement was growing stronger in her voice. "Do you want me to try it now?" 1m asked. "If you'll make a light and show me the thing I'll see what I can do." "Perhaps you won't need that" she said. "I can remember the letters. They are divided up into words, bt»t I'm sure they are not any foreign lan­ guage; they are in a obde of some sort." She did not turn to look at him, but she felt him stir a little, with sudden­ ly aroused attention; and heard his breath come a little quicker. "The first letter was all by Itself," she Bald, trying to keep her' voice steady. It was N--. And then, in one word, came the letters p-b-j n-e-q." "That means 'A coward,'" he said. His voice was unsteady, and he clutched suddenly at her hand. She could feel that his was trembling, so she took it In both of' hers and held it tight "It's a code," he said, "a boyish code of my own. I remember that for a long time after I Invented it I be­ lieved it to be utterly insoluble; yet it wis childishly simple, It consists simply of splitting the alphabet in two and using the last half for the first and vice versa. It must have oc- curred to hundreds of boys, at one time and another, and yet--" his voice faltered. "Yet, it's a little odd that you should have stumbled upon an­ other example of it" "The next word was o-r-g-e-n-l-r-q." "That means 'betrayed,'" he said, almost Instantly. "Was--was there any more." "One little word, three letters, 'u-v-z.' But I know already what they mean, Philip." There was a moment­ ary silence, then she repeated the whole phase--" 'A coward betrayed him.'" She was trembling all over now, herself. "I knew," she said, "I knew It was something like that" Then she dropped down beside htm and clasped him tight In her arms. "Philip, that was written around your picture, an old picture of you it must have been, which fell out of your pocket when I was undressing you that night after your fight with Ros­ coe. I recognized the locket it was en­ closed in as Mr. Hunter's. I had often' seen it on his watch fob, and it's en­ graved with his initials." "It fell out of my pocket," amid Philip, incredulously. "Yes," she said, "that puzzldd me, too, for awhile; and finally I figured it out You must have found it--" "That night in Roscoe's ca^fe, when I was waiting for him. I had forgot- ten it until this moment" "I knew it must be like that;" she said, "something like that And wasn't it . . .* ' she began-- "Hunter's code as well as mine? Yes. We made it up together when we were boys," he said, "and rwe used It occasionally even after we left the Point We wrote in it, both of us, as easily as in English; and read it the same way." Her young arms still held him fast "Philip, he must have been sorry a long time--almost since it happened, it's an old, old picture of you, dear, and the ink of the letters is faded. He's carried it with hl^n ever since, as a reminder of the wrong he did yo^, and of his cowardice in let­ ting you suffer under it." "I suppose it was that from the first" "I don't believe he ever meant--" 8h« let the sentence break off there, and there was a long, long silence. t "T suppose mat's true," he said at last "I suppose I might have saved him then. Just as I might have saved felia later, from Roscoe's dart I ran think of a hundred ways that it might aave happened--the accusation against me, I mean--without his having any part in it" Then he said rather ab­ ruptly: "Fanshaw told you cne story, didn't he?" She assented. "Most of it that is. Perhaps not quite all he knew." "I don't know it all myself," he told her, "that is, I have filled it in with guesses. I knew about the girl.' Hunt­ er was half mad about her, and she, I suppose, was In love with him. Any­ way, he came to me one night--the last time I ever talked with him--rag­ ing with excitement The girl's father had found out about him and meant, she said, to kill him, and perhaps, her, too. Anyhow, she had forbidden Hunt­ er seeing her again. We took a drink or two, together, before I started, and I suppose he must have drunk- hlmself half mad after that; for he started right on my trail and did what you know. I have always supposed, until just now, that he had used my name as his own with her, to screen himself from possible trouble. But that may not have been the case. He may simply have spoken of me as bi^ friend. "Tbe gtrl was In love with him, and it r^vould be natural for her to give her father my name instead of Hunter's, and make the accusation against me. I suppose he thought that I could, probably, clear myself easily enough, without involving him, and that the whole row might blow over without doing any irreparable damage to either of us. And then, when It didn't blow over--when It got worse and meant ruin for somebody-- the fact that he hadn't spoken at first would have made it ten times harder to speak at last I might have help­ ed him. He sent word to me onoe, when I was under arrset to ask if I would see him, and I refused. I was very ..." His speech was punctu- plnnatlon a wonderful great, soft calm seemed to envelop her. She slept there like a child beside h*mt hla still half-clasped in hers. It was /Philip's voice that wakened her. * How long afterwards she did not know. He was sitting erect on the great bear-skin, and all she could see of him was the dim silhouette of his back against the sky. "What is it?" she asked, drowsily. "Is anything the matter?" He could hardly command his voice to answer. "It's that aurora, over there," he said. "No, it's gone now. It may come back. It's right over there in the south--straight in front of you." "But my dear--my dear--" she per­ sisted, "why should an aurora . . . Is It because of the one we saw the night you killed Roscoe? Is it that old nightmare that it brings back?" She was speaking quietly, her voice caressing him Just as her hands were. She was like a mother trying to reas­ sure a frightened child. "No, it's not that" he said, uneasily. I don't know--I think I may be go­ ing mad, perhaps. I know I wasn't dreaming. I thought so at first, but I know I'm not now." Then she felt his body stiffen, he dropped her hand and pointed out to the southern ho­ rizon. "There," he said, look there!" What she saw was simply a pencil of white light pointing straight from the ho­ rizon to the zenith, and reaching an al­ titude of perhaps 20 degrees. Com­ pared with the stupendous electrical displays that they were used to seeing in that winter sky, it was utterly in­ significant and from it she turned to search his face, in sudden alarm. "No,-no--look--look!" he command­ ed, his excitement mounting higher with each word. She obeyed reluctantly, but at what, she saw her body became sudden­ ly rigid and she stared as one might stare who sees a spirit For the faint pencil of white light swung on a pivot dipped dear to the hori- * C I A "Fanshaw Told You the Story, Dldnt He I" ated now by longer and longer pauses, but still Jeanne waited.--"Very sure of the correctness of my own attitude then. Correct Is, perhaps, the exact word for It I wouldn't turn a hand to save a man--a man who had been my friend, too--from living out the rest of his life In hell." He shud­ dered a little at that and she quickly laid her hand upon his lips. "That was long ago," she said. "You can see now what a God, perhaps, would have seen and done then. And if you did wrong, then it's you who have suffered for it--you who have paid the penalty. You have paid for the thing you left undone as well as for the thing he did. But we must not talk about It any more, now. You're not strong enough. I ought not to have spoken of it at all, but, somehow, I couldn't wait any longer." "Just this much more, Jeanne, and then we will let it go: You see now, don't you, dear, why 1 said I never could go back to the world, never clear myself of the old charge at Hunter's expense -- Perry Hunter*s expense-- now that he Is dead; and don't you see that that's as Impossible now as it was when I first said it?" It was with a half laugh and a half sob that she kissed him. "Oh, my dear," she said, "what does the world matter? This is the world here. You and I. The space of this great bear-skin we are lying on. The past can't come between us, and what eifce is there that matters? Come, it's time for you to take another nap. Are you warm enough out here, or shall we go back to the but?" "I'm warm, soul and body, thanks to you," he said. But It was Jeanne who went to sleep. Somehow, since that last ex- ton, rose aagln and completed Its cir­ cuit to the other side. She sat there Itoslde him, breath­ less, almost lifeless with suspense while that pencil traced its ooui-Be back and forth from horicoa to b«rV zon, stopped sometimes on the zenith, to turn back upon itself--sometimes continuing through unchecked. At last her breath burst forth from her in a great sob. She turned and clung to him wildly. "Philip," she said, "It cant be that --it can't--it can't!" "Tell me--tell me what it looks like --what you think you see?" She stayed just where she was, cling­ ing to him, cowering to him, as if some­ thing terrified her, her face pressed down against his shoulder. "Signals," she gasped out "From a light--from a search-light." He drew a long deep breath or two, and his good arm tightened about her. "Well," he said, his voice breaking in a shaky laugh, "if we are mad, we are mad together, Jeanne, dear, and with the same madness; and if we are dreaming, we are living in the same dream. Did you read what It said? Oh, no, of course you couldn't--but I did. It's the old army wig-wag, and it has been saying all sorts of things. Spelling out your name most of the time. Wbat it Just said was, 'Cour­ age. They are ooming.'" CHAPTER XXIV. Unwlnged. For awhile she stayed Just where she was, her head cradled against his shoulder, but presently, she stood erect once more, pulled off one of her heavy gauntlets, and with- her bare palm pressed the tear* out of her eyes. "You aren't strong enough y at to be used as the support foV,a really good cry." Her voice was shaky and her speech uneven. There were still some little half suppressed sobs in it But she turned her face agaifi towards the southern horizon. "If that's the army wig-wag I ought to be able to read it Tom taught it to me years ago. Perhaps--perhaps It is he who is signaling now." "Was there a search-light on the Au­ rora?" Philip asked. *'I didn't notice when I saw her." He tried to make the question sound casual, but his voice was hardly steadier than hers. "Oh, yes," she said. "It was one of the things we laughed at Uncle Jerry for insisting upon, but he insisted Just the same. It's a very powerful light Philip," she said suddenly, after a little silence, "is It not plain Im­ possible, that that we see over there? You know you said, and father said in his journal, that there was no possi­ bility of a relief in the winter. Philip --Philip, isn't it madness--is It the ice madness 7" But before he could answer they heard a rifle-shot ring out in the still air. "No," he cried, "the long wait is over. Thank God they are here. Fire, Jeanne! Fire the revolver! Let them know they are in time," His lips trem­ bled and tears glistened In his eyes. It was lying under her hand. There were only three cartridges left but she fired them all Into the air. Theh, almost before the echo from the cliff behind them had died away, they heard a dim hall in a human voice--a voice that broke sharply as if the shout had ended in a sob. "It's Tom," she said. "Call out! It's your voice he'll want to hear." But it was a moment be­ fore she could command It She call­ ed his name twice, and then a third time, with a different Inflection, for a long, leaping flicker of firelight had re­ vealed a little knot of figures round­ ing one of the great ice-crags that covered the frozen harbor. One fig­ ure, a little In advance of the others, dashed forward at a run. Jeanne sprang to meet him. For a little while Cayley stood hesi­ tating before the flre, Just where Jeanne, In her Impulsive rush toward their rescuers, had left him then slow­ ly, he followed her. The party on the ice was moving landward again. Even at Philip's slo pace, the distance between tnem wi narrowing. Jeanne and young Fai shaw were coming on ahead. He sav- her stop suddenly and throw an arm;, around the man's neck. Shb wis laughing and crying all at once, ahfi there were tears In the man's eye too. Philip expected that He kne that Fanshaw loved her. His memory of that fact was all that redeemed h< memory of their encounter on the Au­ rora's deck. But what he did not expect w&e to see Fanshaw suddenly release him self from the girl's embrace and come straight toward him. That was not the most surprising thing--not that aor the hand which Fanshaw was hold­ ing out to him. It was the look In the young man's face. There was a powerful emotion work­ ing there, but no sign of any conflict, no resistance, no reluctance. It was the face of a man humble in the pres­ ence of a miracle. He stripped off his gauntlet and gripped Cayley's hand. It was a moment before he could speak. "It'e only Just now," he said, "now that I see you here together, that I find it hard to believe. Because I've known all along that you were here with her, keeping her alive until we could get back to her. I've been the only one who has had any hope at all, and with me It's been a certainty rather than a hope. It's as If I had seen you here, together. I've seen you co a thousand times, but now, that I de actually, with my own eyes, it's hard to . . . -* His voice broke there. There was,a moment of silence, then he went on: "You must try to for- give us, Cayley--me, in particular, for I'm the one who needs It most We know the truth of - that old story now. No, it wasn't Jeanne who told, it was poor Hunter himself, in a letter. He had written It long ago, and it was among his papers. Al want you to read it sometime. I think, perhaps, when you do you will be Able to forgive him, too." "That's done already." said Philip. "No, not long ago--within the last few hours. Come, shall we go back to the flre? 1 suppose we had better wait for another moonrise before we try to get to the Aurora." It was six months later, a blazing, blue July day, when the gunboat York- town lifted North Head, the northern portal of the Golden Gate. Tom Fan­ shaw and his father had gone to the bridge, but Philip and Jeanne, the other two passengers, remained un-> moved by the announcement, seated as far aft as possible, the ensign, limp in the following breeze, fluttering Just over their heads. Looking up, they saw one of the Junior officers standing close beside them. He was a dark-haired, dark- eyed, good-looking youngster, whose frank adoration of Jeanne ever since they had come aboard bad amused the Fanshaws and secretly pleased and touched Philip, although he pretended to be amused, too. They both rose and lounged back against the rail as he came up. 'Glad to be nearly home, Mr. Cald­ well?" said Jeanne. "You navy people regard any port In the States as home, don't you?" "Oh, I'd be glad enough ol a month's shore leave," he said, "if It weren't thia particular voyage. I mean--If it didn't mean that we are going to lose you." She gave him a friendly little smile. but made no other answer. He to Philip. "I'll have to confess," . __ the rudest sort of Inquisitive curiosity about the strange-looking bundle you brought aboard with you from the Aurora. It looks like some primitive Eskimo's attempt to build a flying-ma- chine." "It Is something like that" said Philip, "it you'll have it brought up here on deck I'll open it out to you." The young fellow's pleasure was al» most boyish. "Ill have it brought at once," he said. The breeze was straight behind them and Just about strong enough to compensate for the 6peed of the ves­ sel, and the air on deck was quite still. With the boy's puzzled assits- ance Philip spread his wings for the first time since that night when he had dived off the cliff- head to go in pursuit of Roscoe. The recollection was almost painfully vivid, and as he looked into Jeanne's face he saw the same memory mi> rored there. But young Caldweh soon brought them hack to the present He was no longer embarrassed or shy, deferen­ tial. Aerial navigation was, appar^ ently. a subject he knew all about He criticised the shape of the planes, the material they were made of, the curve of this, the dip of that--all in the tone of an expert -- and by way of summing up, he Bald: "It's rather pitiful, isn't it? In a way any primitive thing always af­ fects me--like old locomotives they have In museums. Somebody, prob­ ably, believed once that that would fly. I hope he didn't believe it seri­ ously enough to give it a real trial." "You don't think It would work, then?" asked Philip. The young man laughed. "Dear me, no," he said- "It couldn't work." "At any rate," said Philip, "it's an amusing ourloslty." "Oh, yes; Indeed, yes," the young man assented, cordially. "I wish it were mine. Only I wouldn't try to fly with it" His duties called him away then rather suddenly, and Philip was left SHE GOT •'W w JM. "He Was a Dark-Haired, Dark-Eyed Handsome Young Man." to furl his wings alone. From the proo ess he looked up into Jeanne's face. "Why, Jeanne!" Her eyes were bright bright with unshed tears, and there was a little flush of bright color In her cheeks. "Oh, I know," she said, with an no- steady laugh, "it's absurd to be lndlg> nant but I wished--oh, how I wished, when he was so patronizing and so sure, that you might have slipped your arms into their places and gone curv­ ing, circling up, all gold and gleaming. Into the air. I knew you wouldn't, but I hoped you would." "Jeanne, dear," he said, "youll re­ member that always--my flight I mean. But, sometimes you'll get to wondering if ft Isn't the memory of a dream. And then youll go and find these old wings In an attic, some­ where. and stroke them with you; hands, the way you did that night when I furled them first upon the Ice­ floe beside you." She looked at him quickly, wide- eyed. "What do you mean, Philip? Not that--not that I'm never to see you fly again?" He nodded. "Somehow, up there, with all the world below me, It never seemed reaL Even you never seemed real, who wero the only real thing in all the world. The earth was only a spinning ball, and there were no such thing as men. I wasn't a man myself, up there, not even--even after you had brought me back to life and given me a soul again. Somehow, to be a man one hag to wear the shackles of mankind. I can't explain it better than that but t know It's true." For a long time she searched his face in silence. "You used to seem a spirit rather than a man to me," she said, "when I would lie watching you soaring there above me. And now--now It's I who brought you down." "Do you remember how I told yc*I once that a man like your father vas worth a whole Paradise of angels? Well, I want to be a man, Jeanne, as near as possible such a man as he was. And I want to walk beside you always." A shift of wind from astern over- took them and the great ensign flap­ ped forward, screening them for a mo­ ment where they stood, from the view of the rest of the deck. With a sud­ den passion of understanding she clasped him close and kissed him. THE END. This Woman Had to InsM Strongly, but it Paid Chicago, I1L--"I suffered from a fl#» male weakness and stomach trouble^ and I went to the store to get a bottle of Lydia E. Pink- ham's Vegetable Compound, but the clerk did not want to let me have it- he said it was tut good and w anted me to try something else, but knowing all about it I to» 111 > i 11 /1 sisted a n d finally " -- got it and I am so glad I did, for it has cured me. " I know cf so many cases where men have been cored by Lydia JE. lick- ham's Vegetable Compound that I can s:iy to every suffering woman if th&fc medicine does Hot help her, there Is nothing that will."--Mrs. Janktzkx, 2963 Arch St., Chicago, I1L This is tbe age of substitution, awl women who want a cure should insist \>r>on Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound just as this woman did, and not accept something else on which the druggist can make a little more profit. Women who are passing through thlf critical period or who are suffering from any of those distressing ills pe­ culiar to their sex should not lose sight of the fact that for thirty years Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound, which is made from roots and herba^ has been tlie standard remedy for fe> male ills. In almost every community you will find women who have been restored to health by Lydia E. Pinlfe ham's Vegetable Compound. -i U afflict** with j •ore eye*, use j Thompson's Eyi Watar WHO ELSE? Sister--I have become engaged to Fred. Brother--Whatever Induced you to do that? Sister--Why Fred, of course! • -.JIA v <8 •I"I f Only a Moose. "The modern woman isn't a bluff,** asserted Mrs. Gobbolink, looking op from ber newspaper. "This suffrage movement has more in it than mere Ideas. The new woman is brave ,UMi fearless. Here is a story of a woman up in Canada who killed a mouse. It seems that she--" "impossible!" Interjected Mr. Gob bollng. "There must be some mis­ take--read it again." Mrs. Gobbolink searched out the paragraph and then blushed vividly. "How stupid of me," she stammered. "1 did make a mistake. It wasnt a mouse she killed--nothing but a moose." Suburban Sobriquets. Everybody else had lived is tfte summer colony long enough to name his home for whatever tree or shrub grew most abundantly In the front or back yards. Up and down the road were cottages labeled the Elms, the Wistaria, the Lilacs, and so on-through the horticultural guide book. The newcomer had no name for her house, but after studying the tactics for a week she took a survey of the prem­ ises and thenceforward dated her coi* respondents the Rhubarbs. Poverty hath its own reward. A poor man isn't asked to contribute to a cam­ paign fund. 0 Restaurants may come and restau­ rants may go, but the political pie counter has always plenty of patrons. Herring Always In Lead. Herrings form the greatest harvest of the ocean. More herrings are eatee than any other fl|h. BARN DOOR WORTH SAVING Farmer Dockrldge Rescued It From KM Flamea, for It Bora Hla Ao- cotnta for 8ix Years. Vfcrmer Dockrldge was hastily awak •Bed in the dead of night by Alf. the farm servant who told him the barn wat on flre. Instructing Alf to blind­ fold the horses and lead them out through tbe back door If there was 'time enough, he tiurriedly donned his trousers, rushed into the kitchen, grabbed up a screw driver and ran out to the barn. The roof was burning fiercely, but be dashed into the building and began with frantic haste to unscrew the hinges of the smooth pine door that opened into the corn bin. Alf had succeeded in getting the horses out safely, and the sparks were falling round the old man, but he stuck to M" task until be had finished It and emerged from the burning barn carrying the door just as the roof fell In. "That's a good deal of risk to take for the sake of aavlng a bit of flre wood," commented a neighbor who had been awakened by the flames and had run over to see if he could be of any use. "Firewood!" exclaimed Farmer Dockrldge, pointing to the pencil marks that covered the door. "See them Aggers? There's all my busi­ ness accounts for the last six yeara. That door's worth more than the whole barn!"--London Telegraph. Find Petrified Wornen. In the course of the excavations which are still being made at Pompeii the body of a petrified woman has h«j»n discovered. On the body were Jewels of great value, including brace­ lets, necklaces, and chatelaines, and It is assumed from this that their wearer belonged to the patrician class. Especially remarkable among the jewels are two clasps, each com­ posed of twenty-one pearls In a clus­ ter. These claspB have both an artla- tistlc and an archaeological value, for nothing comparable with them h&a been found before among the ruins of Pompeii. Pompeii, on the Neapolitan Riviera, was founded about 600 B. C., and down to the time of Its destruc­ tion, A. D. "7>. it was a sort of Rome super-Mare, frequeilted by the aris­ tocracy, if not by Caligula and Nero, In whose honor it erected triumphal arches. Fed from the capital with ev­ ery luxury and distinction, it Included temples In which the Inhabitant* were encouraged to make oostly riflcea. The city of Pom: ell was ni ly ruined by earthquake In A. D. '61, but It had returned to its former gap* ety and licentiousness when in tt it was overwhelmed by the ashes Vesuvius. "There goes a man who got what he wanted for Christmas." "And what did he most desire?" "A nice long nap.* Easy Breakfast! A bowl of crisp Post Tuasties eind cream-- the thing's done! Appetizing Nourishing Convenient Ready to serve right out of the pacKage. "The Memory Lingers" POSTIIM CEREAL CO„ Btiilt Crmk. Mtetk m m iii.' ... Xi - «.At" •.•svfe •* •Mm