"That rent has got to be paid, that's all there is to it," the man was saying.

"I cannot pay to-day," replied Nellie Ardell. "I will try to pay Monday."

"It won't do. I've given you notice, and if you can't pay, you have got to leave."

At this the girl burst into tears.

"Would you put me on the street?" she wailed.

"I'll have to—it's orders," replied the burly man doggedly.

"Whose order?"

"Mr. Slocum."

"Mr. Slocum is a very hard-hearted man," cried the girl, indignantly.

"That's so," Jerry put in as he entered.

"Oh, Jerry Upton!" Nellie Ardell cried, when she saw our hero. "This man wants to put me out of my rooms."

"It's a shame."

"Who are you?" demanded the burly man. "Do you live here?"

"No. I am this young lady's friend, however. Did Mr. Slocum say to put her out?"

"Yes."

"What shall I do if they put me on the street?" wailed Nellie Ardell.

"I'm sure I don't know. But Slocum sha'n't put you on the street if I can help it," went on Jerry, suddenly.

"What will you do?"

"How much do you owe him?"

"Twelve dollars. I have four, but he won't take it. He wants the entire amount."

"I will let you have ten dollars," said our hero, and brought out the bill Wakefield Smith had dropped.

"Oh, won't that be robbing you?" cried Nellie Ardell, but her eyes glistened with pleasure.

"Never mind; take it and pay this man off."

Nellie Ardell accepted the amount without further words.

"Now," she said, as she paid the man, "I am going to move."

"Move! What for?"

"I can get better rooms for less money just across the way."

The burly man's face fell. He was Alexander Slocum's agent, and he knew that to get tenants for the rooms Nellie Ardell occupied would be difficult.

"It ain't right to move now—in the middle of the summer."

"You intended to put me out—if I couldn't pay the rent."

"That is different."

"I have paid up promptly for many months. Mr. Slocum could have been a bit easier for once."

"He is more than mean," put in Jerry. "I would advise you to move by all means."

"You seem to know a great deal about him," sneered the agent.

"I do—and I'll know more some day."

The agent began to growl, but, seeing he could do nothing, he went off to inform Alexander Slocum that Nellie Ardell intended to move.



CHAPTER XXXII.

A CRAZY MAN'S DOINGS.

"You are more than kind to me, Jerry Upton," exclaimed Nellie Ardell, when they and her little brother were left alone.

"I didn't want to see you thrown out of your home," said Jerry, soberly.

"I shall pay you back that money as soon as I possibly can," she went on. "I expect to get about twenty dollars for sewing next week. One of the ladies I work for is out of town, but is coming back on Wednesday."

"All right—take your time. When will you move? Maybe I can help carry some things for you."

"I've a good mind to move this afternoon. Those other rooms are all ready."

"Then do it, and I'll pitch right in," and in fun the young oarsman picked up several chairs.

"I will. Will you be kind enough to stay with Tommy a few minutes?"

"Certainly."

Nellie Ardell went off at once, and was back in ten minutes. When she returned she had rented three small rooms for less money than she now paid.

She had not many articles of furniture and it did not seem the least bit like working to our hero to assist her in transferring them across the way. The two worked together, and as they labored they talked, Jerry telling her a good deal about his mission to New York and the girl relating her own experiences in keeping the wolf from the door.

"We were not always poor," said Nellie Ardell. "When father was alive we lived in our own home in Brooklyn. But he grew interested in a Western land scheme and it took all of his money."

"That was our trouble. I came to New York to see what I could do toward making Alexander Slocum give an accounting of the money he put in a California land scheme for my uncle."

"Why, my father was in Slocum's land scheme!" she ejaculated.

"Perhaps it was the same. This land scheme I speak of was called the Judge Martin—why, I don't know."

"It is the same. It was so called because the land once belonged to a Judge Martin of Colorado."

Of course, Jerry was deeply interested, and, the moving finished, he and she sat down to talk the matter over.

From what our hero learned of Nellie Ardell he came to the conclusion that Alexander Slocum was every inch the villain he had taken him to be.

The real estate dealer had hoodwinked the girl completely, and she had surrendered to him all the documents her parent had left behind at the time of his death.

"It's too bad," said Jerry. "We must work together against him. But nothing can be done until my missing papers are recovered."

Before he left, another matter was discussed and settled. In her new quarters Nellie Ardell had a small room she did not really need, and she offered to board Jerry at three dollars and a half a week. As this would be an acceptable saving just at present, our hero accepted the offer and agreed to make the change on the following Monday.

Sunday passed quietly. Jerry spent part of the day in writing a long letter home, telling the folks just how matters stood and urging them not to worry, as he felt certain all would come out right in the end, and that he was quite content to remain in New York and support himself until he had settled matters with Alexander Slocum. The letter was finished late in the afternoon, and after taking supper he went out to post it.

The novelty of life in the city had not yet passed, and, the letter put into a corner box, the young oarsman sauntered on and on, taking in the many strange sights.

He had gone a distance of half a dozen blocks when he came to a church. The doors were wide open, and as the congregation were singing, he stopped to listen to the music.

When the music stopped, our hero passed on down the street, which seemed to grow poorer as he advanced. The new houses gave place to those that were very old, and on all sides Jerry could see the effects of grinding poverty.

"It's a great city," he thought. "And it is true that one half doesn't know how the other half lives."

"Please, mister, will you give me five cents?"

Jerry stopped in his walk and looked down to see who had addressed him. It was a little girl, and she was crying bitterly.

"Five cents?" he repeated.

"Yes, mister; please don't say no. I've asked so many for the money already and they won't give me a cent."

"What are you going to do with five cents?"

"I've got to bring it home to daddy."

"To daddy—you mean your father?"

"He's a sort of a father, but he's not my real papa," sobbed the little girl. "He took me when papa died."

"What does your—your daddy want with the five cents?"

At this question the little girl's face flushed.

"I—I daren't tell you—daddy would whip me," she whimpered.

"Does he drink?"

"I daren't tell you."

"Does he send you out very often to beg?"

"He sends me out when he's—when he's—but I daren't tell you. He would whip me most to death."

"Where do you live?"

"Over there."

And the little girl pointed to a long row of rear tenements, the very worst-looking in the neighborhood.

"And what is daddy's name?"

"His real name is James MacHenry, but the folks around here all call him Crazy Jim," she answered.

Jerry started back in surprise. Crazy Jim was the tramp who had been seen walking off with his packet of documents!

"So you live with Crazy Jim?" said our hero, to the little girl, slowly.

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you lived with him?"

"Oh, a long while, sir."

"Take me to him."

At this request she drew back in horror.

"Oh, I can't do that, indeed I can't," she faltered.

"Why not?"

"I took a man to him once—a charity officer—and daddy—whip—whipped me for it."

"Then show me where he lives," went on Jerry after a pause. "You needn't let him see you. I must have a talk with him. Perhaps I'll give him some money."

The little girl still hesitated, but finally led the way up the street into a horrible-looking alley and pointed to a dingy tenement-house.

"Daddy is up there on the top floor in the back."

"And is that where you live?" asked Jerry, with a shudder he could not repress.

"Yes, of course."

"It's not a nice place."

"Oh, no," and something like a tear glistened in the girl's eye.

"Here is ten cents for you," added Jerry. "You had better keep it for yourself. Are you hungry?"

"A little. I only had some bread to-day for dinner and supper."

"Then go down to the restaurant on the corner and get something to eat for the money. You need it."

The little girl ran off to do as bidden, and our hero entered the dilapidated tenement. Four dirty men and women sat on the stoop smoking and drinking from a tin pail.

"Who are ye lookin' fer?" asked one of the men, roughly.

"Crazy Jim," answered Jerry, briefly, and brushed past him.

The hallway was dark, and it was with difficulty that the young oarsman found the rickety stairs, every step of which creaked as he trod upon it.

Arriving at the top floor, the youth noticed a shaft of light streaming from beneath a door in the rear. He knocked loudly.

There was a movement within, the door was flung back, and Jerry found himself confronted by a tall, round-shouldered individual, with long, unkempt hair and a wild look in his small black eyes.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE LITTLE NOBODY.

"Well!" demanded the man laconically.

"Is this James MacHenry?"

"That's me, boy."

"I would like to see you on business," Jerry went on, as he brushed past and entered one of the barest living apartments he had ever seen.

"On business?"

"Yes, a few days ago you picked up a packet downtown belonging to me—a packet containing some documents and letters."

"Who said they belonged to you?"

"I say so. My name is Jerry Upton, and I dropped the packet in the alleyway where you found it."

The man stared at our hero.

"Say, is this a game?" he demanded, harshly.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you trying to get me into trouble?"

"No, I am trying to keep you out of trouble," replied the young oarsman, warmly.

"You say that packet belonged to you?"

"Yes."

"It didn't have your name on it."

"No, it—" Our hero stopped short. "It had Alexander Slocum's name on it!" he burst out.

"Exactly."

"You don't mean to say you delivered that packet to him?" gasped the youth.

"I did—not an hour ago."

Jerry fell back into a chair and breathed heavily. The packet was gone—into the hands of the enemy!

"The man said it was his package," said Crazy Jim. "He gave me a reward of five dollars for returning it to him."

"It was mine. He wanted to steal it—and now he's done it," cried Jerry. "You let him have it but an hour ago?"

"Yes."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know."

"Did you open the packet?"

"Yes, but I couldn't make nothing out of it—'cos I ain't eddicated. I read his name on it and got another fellow to write a postal card yesterday afternoon. He came here, examined the papers, and seemed much pleased."

"No doubt he was pleased," groaned the young oarsman.

"Was the thing worth much?"

"It was worth a good deal. I would have given five dollars to get it back."

"What does he want with it?"

"Wants to do my father out of some property," answered our hero. "By the way, who is that little girl who lives with you?"

At this question Crazy Jim's face darkened.

"That ain't none of your business," he growled.

"You shouldn't send her out on the street to beg."

"Wot! has she been blabbin' again? I'll break every bone in her body!" and off the man started out of the room and down the narrow stairs.

Jerry had noticed that his breath smelt strongly of liquor. He was not only a drinking man, but also one who was not quite right in his head.

"Don't hurt her, you brute!" called out the boy, and followed him out of the alleyway into the street. At the nearest corner stood the little girl, and Crazy Jim rushed up to her fiercely.

"You good-fer-nothin'!" he bawled. "I'll teach ye a lesson! Didn't I tell ye ter keep yer clapper still about me? Take that! and that!"

He raised his heavy hand and struck her a cruel blow on the side of the head. She staggered back, and he was about to repeat his unjust action, when Jerry thought it about time to interfere. Catching him by the arm, our hero hurled him backward with such force that he fell flat in the gutter.

At once a shout went up from those who saw Jerry's action.

"What are yer doin'?"

"Who is that boy?"

With a fearful exclamation, Crazy Jim arose to his feet.

"I'll fix ye fer that!" he hissed, and sprang forward. "You ain't got no right ter interfere between me an' the gal."

"You are a brute!" burst out our hero. "This little girl has done nothing to deserve such punishment."

"Who set you over me?" howled the infuriated man. "I'll fix ye!"

He tried his best to hit Jerry with his fist, but the young oarsman dodged him and took a stand in front of the little girl.

"You had better run away," Jerry whispered to her. "He is in a terrible mood just now."

"Where shall I go?" whimpered the girl.

"Anywhere. Up two blocks. I will join you soon."

Without delay the little girl ran off. Crazy Jim tried to follow her, but Jerry headed him off.

Seeing he could do nothing with his hands, the savage man looked around for some weapon. A heavy stone was lying handy, and he picked it up. The next moment it was launched at our hero's head.

Luckily, Jerry was quick at dodging, or he might have been seriously wounded. The missile went sailing over the lad's head and flew with a crash through the front window of a neighboring store.

The smashing of the pane of glass was followed by a shout of alarm from the storekeeper, who sat in a chair on the pavement.

"Here, vot's dot?" he yelled. "Vot you means py preaking mine vinder, hey, you Crazy Gim? I vos got you locked up. Ain't it? Bolice! bolice!"

The German storekeeper continued to yell so loudly that it was not long before an officer appeared. Seeing this, Jerry backed out of the crowd and hurried off. He saw the policeman catch Crazy Jim by the arm, and a wordy war followed. A minute later the fellow was being marched off to the station-house. No doubt the policeman would have liked it had he found Jerry, but our hero kept at a safe distance.

It was now quite dark, and it was with some difficulty that Jerry again found the little girl. She stood by a hitching post, sobbing bitterly.

"Where is he?" she asked, choking back her sobs.

"The policeman took him off. Don't cry any more," Jerry added, soothingly.

"But where shall I go?" she asked. "I can't go back."

"Have you no friends?"

"No. Crazy Jim and I came to New York alone when papa died."

"Where did you come from?"

The little girl shook her head at this. She had been too young to remember.

"What is your name?"

"Dottie."

"Dottie what?"

"Nothing, only Dottie."

Jerry was in a quandary. To a certain degree he felt responsible for her present forlorn condition. Suddenly an idea struck him.

"If you will come with me, I'll see to it that you have a good bed to-night, and breakfast in the morning," he said. "And after that I'll see what I can do for you, Dottie."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Jerry Upton."

"You look like a nice boy and I'll go with you," and she placed her hand confidently in that of the young oarsman.

Jerry took the little one to Nellie Ardell's apartments. Of course she was much surprised, and, sitting down, our hero had to explain everything as far as he was able. Nellie Ardell agreed instantly to take the little girl in.

"You can stay here until we can do something for you," she said. "I know how it would feel to have little Tommy on the streets homeless."

And soon after that Dottie was put to bed, very well content. Her hard life with Crazy Jim had made her used to ups and downs that no ordinary little girl could have endured.

The reader can well imagine that Jerry did not sleep much that night. He could not forget that Alexander Slocum had the precious packet of papers. Bitterly he regretted not having taken better care of the documents.

"I will call on Slocum, and come to some sort of an understanding," Jerry said to himself. "Perhaps when I tell him that both Nellie Ardell and myself are ready to proceed against him he will be willing to come to terms."

The next day was a busy one at the book-bindery, and our hero got no chance to call on Slocum. During that time he learned that Crazy Jim had been locked up for resisting the officer and had been sentenced to thirty days on Blackwell's Island.

The young oarsman did not know what to do about little Dottie, but Nellie Ardell solved this question.

"I have received a whole lot of new work," she said. "So for the present we can keep her to mind Tommy while I am dressmaking."

So the little girl stayed on. Jerry never dreamed of how much she had to do with his future life.

On Thursday Mr. Islin's brother died and the bindery was closed for several days. Jerry took the opportunity to walk down to Alexander Slocum's offices.

The real estate man was alone, and greeted our hero with a sinister smile.

"So you have seen fit to call again, young man," were his first words.

"Mr. Slocum, let us come to business," Jerry replied firmly. "What are you going to do about my father's claim?"

Alexander Slocum laughed harshly.

"Your father's claim?" he repeated. "I don't recognize the fact that your father has any claim against me."



CHAPTER XXXIV.

ALEXANDER SLOCUM SHOWS HIS HAND.

Alexander Slocum's statement was no more than Jerry had expected, so he was not taken back by the words. He looked the man steadily in the eyes.

"So that is the position you are going to take now—since you received my packet from James MacHenry," said Jerry, deliberately.

Slocum started and winced, and the young oarsman saw that Crazy Jim had spoken the truth.

"I haven't anything belonging to you, Upton."

"It is useless for you to deny it, Mr. Slocum. He found the packet and delivered it to you for a reward of five dollars."

"The packet he delivered to me was my own. It contained some legal documents belonging to this office."

"You may make others believe that, Mr. Slocum, but—"

"But what, boy? Remember, I want none of your insolence here. I will listen to you, but you mustn't grow impertinent."

"I'm only speaking the truth. You virtually robbed me, just as you robbed my father and Mr. Bryant Ardell."

"Ha!" Slocum leaped to his feet. "Who—where did you hear of Bryant Ardell?" he asked, excitedly.

"I have met Nellie Ardell several times—in fact, I am boarding with her."

"Did she set you to hounding me?"

"No; we met by accident after I had come to New York almost on purpose to see you."

"She is an impudent young woman."

"She told me that you had her land papers, just as you now have mine."

"It's a falsehood!"

"If both of us go to court with our story, we may prove that it is not a falsehood."

"Ha! are you going to combine to ruin my reputation?" cried the real estate dealer, growing pale.

"We are going to try to obtain our rights."

"You'll gain nothing. I'll—I'll have you locked up on a charge of black-mail!" Alexander Slocum began to pace his office nervously. "See here, Upton how much do you want to go off and leave me alone?" he questioned, suddenly.

"I want what is due my father."

"You'll not get it!" he whispered, hoarsely, throwing his mask aside. "Do you think I have plotted and worked all these years for nothing? Not much! All that property is mine, do you hear? Nobody else shall ever own a foot of it. Now, I'll tell you what I am willing to do. I'll give you a hundred dollars in cash and we'll call it square. Mind you, I don't admit your claim. I only want to avoid trouble."

Jerry looked at the man and drew a long breath. He could see through Slocum's words as clearly as he could see through the window. His father's claim was worth a fortune!

"Come, what do you say?" demanded Slocum as Jerry did not answer him.

"I say this, Mr. Slocum," rejoined our hero. "I won't accept your proposition, and before I am done with you I'll have our rights and you'll be in state's prison."

With a snarl very much like that made by a fretful tiger, the man leaped toward the boy as if to grab him by the throat.

"You fool! I'll make you come to terms!"

His hand touched Jerry's collar, but the young oarsman evaded him and placed the flat-top desk between them. When the man ran around the desk, Jerry picked up a heavy brass-bound ruler.

"Stop, or I'll crack you with this!" cried our hero, and, seeing the weapon, Slocum halted.

"Don't be a fool, boy!"

"I don't intend to be."

"You can do nothing against me."

"That remains to be seen."

"Who will take your word against mine? Nobody. You are a mere country lad, while I am a well-known New York citizen."

"Mr. Ardell was also well known in his day."

Again Alexander Slocum's face grew pale.

"Nellie Ardell has no doubt urged you to attack me," he growled. "I must see her. Why didn't she come with you?"

"She is busy."

"I will explain matters to her in detail. Really, the claim is not worth anything, but I wish to avoid trouble, and—"

"You might as well stop, Mr. Slocum, for it's too late to say that now. I am positive our claims are of great value. Since you won't do the right thing, I shall advise my father to bring action in court to compel you to come to terms."

While speaking, Jerry had walked to the door, and now placed his hand on the knob.

"Stop! stop!"

"No, I have had enough for the present."

"You villain!"

Slocum ran toward Jerry, who opened the door to step out, but found the way blockaded by Casey, his book-keeper.

"Here, what's up?" cried the man, in wonder.

"Don't let him get away, Casey!" cried Alexander Slocum. "He is going to make trouble, sure!"

"Let me go!" burst out our hero as the book-keeper caught hold of him. "Let go, or I'll——"

Jerry never finished that sentence. Alexander Slocum had picked up the ruler the youth had dropped, and leaped to the front. Down came the weapon on the young oarsman's head; he felt a sharp stinging pain—and then he knew no more.

When Jerry came to his senses all was dark around him. He was lying on a damp, cement floor, evidently that of a cellar.

His head ached greatly, and for several minutes he could not remember what had happened.

Then came back that scene in Slocum's office. He staggered to his feet.

Where was he and how long had he been there?

The first question was readily answered. Stepping forward, Jerry stumbled over some loose coal. He was in a coal-cellar. Around and above were brick walls. The door was of sheet-iron, and it was tightly closed and barred. How had he come to that place? Probably his enemies had carried him hither, although how they could do it without being seen was a question.

As soon as our hero felt strong enough he looked about for some means of escaping from his prison. With great care he examined the walls and tried the door.

Finding no outlet on any side, he turned his attention to the pavements above. From one spot there came a faint glimmer of light, in a circle, and he rightfully guessed that the coal-hole was located there.

How to reach the hole was a problem. It was several feet above our hero's head, and there was nothing in the coal-vault to stand upon.

Jerry considered the situation for a minute, and then, standing directly under the cover of the hole, leaped upward, sending his hand over his head as he did so.

The cover was loose, and the force of the blow caused it to fly upward. Another blow and it fell away entirely, and in a second more the young oarsman was clambering out of the opening.

It was drawing towards evening, and the street was full of people, some of which eyed the boy curiously. Restoring the cover to its place, he left the spot.

The question now was, should he return to Slocum's office or seek outside assistance? He decided upon the latter course. To attempt to bring the rascally real estate agent to terms alone would be foolhardy.

Jerry's head ached so much he could think only with difficulty, and he decided to return to Nellie Ardell's apartments. It was a hard walk, and he was glad when the place was reached and he could sit down.

"What's the matter—are you hurt?" cried the young woman.

"I was knocked out," replied the youth, with a sorry little laugh. "I've got a pretty big lump on the top of my head."

Sitting down, he told his story, to which Nellie Ardell listened with breathless attention.

"The wicked man! He should be locked up!" she burst out, when Jerry had finished. "It's a wonder he didn't kill you."

"That's true. As it was, the blow was awfully hard."

"What will you do now?"

"I really don't know."

"Won't that Mr. Islen whom you work for, help you?"

"Perhaps he will," returned the youth, struck with the idea. "The trouble is his brother is dead, and that has upset him."

"One thing is certain, Jerry, the property is valuable."

"Yes, and another thing is certain," added our hero. "We want our shares of it."

"It would be a great help to me to get some money out of it," said Nellie Ardell, with a sigh. "This sewing constantly day in and day out is wearing on me."

The two talked for over an hour, and then Jerry felt compelled to lie down. It was nearly morning before his head stopped aching and he got some rest.



CHAPTER XXXV.

A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE

On the next day the bindery was opened as usual, but Mr. Islen did not appear, having gone to Philadelphia. Jerry worked throughout the day, wondering what Alexander Slocum had thought and done after he had discovered the escape. Little did the young oarsman dream of what the real estate dealer was then doing.

Our hero was proving himself to be skillful at the work assigned to him and the foreman often praised him.

"You'll be worth a raise in wages," he said. "I never saw a boy take hold as you do."

Jerry never delayed after the day's work was over. He washed up, put on his coat, and hurried forth to his boarding place.

When Jerry reached the house he found little Dottie on the stoop, with Tommy in her arms. Tommy was crying for something to eat, and the little girl was having her hands full with him.

"Where is Miss Nellie?" asked our hero in surprise.

"I don't know," returned the girl. "She sent me out with Tommy after dinner, and when I tried to get in after a while the door was locked and she was gone."

"And you have been sitting here ever since?"

"Yes."

"Come up. I'll open the door."

Jerry led the way, and with a night key opened the door to the kitchen.

A cry of surprise burst from his lips. Everywhere were the signs of a desperate struggle. Two of the chairs were overturned, the table-cloth hung half off the table, and Nellie Ardell's sewing was strewn in all directions.

"This is Slocum's work!"

Those were the words which arose to the youth's lips as he surveyed the situation in the kitchen.

Alexander Slocum had tried to get him out of the way, and now he had tried the same plan upon Nellie Ardell.

There had been a fierce struggle, of that there was not the slightest doubt.

But the girl had been overpowered in the end and taken off.

To where?

That was the all important question.

While our hero was gazing around the room, little Tommy was crying at the top of his lungs.

To quiet him, Jerry gave him his bowl of bread and milk, and also gave Dottie her supper.

Then Jerry began a minute examination of the rooms.

There was mud on the oil-cloth—the tracks of four boots.

"Slocum and Casey, his book-keeper," he said to himself.

Going below he interviewed Mrs. Flannigan, a good-natured Irish woman who lived on the nest floor.

"Did you see Miss Ardell this afternoon?"

"Sure, an' Oi did not Oi was out," she replied.

He next tried the janitress, who lived in the basement. She was a peppery old woman who seldom had a pleasant word for anybody.

"Did I see her? Yes, she went out with two men about two hours ago," she said.

"What sort of looking men?"

"I can't say—I'm not taking notice of everybody who comes and goes."

"But this is important, Mrs. Foley. I am afraid something has happened to Miss Ardell."

"They were tall men, and I guess both had big black mustaches and beards."

"Where did she go with them?"

"Into a carriage. All of 'em seemed to be in a big hurry."

"Which way did the carriage go?"

"Down towards the Brooklyn ferry."

In a thoughtful mood, the young oarsman walked back upstairs. He met Mrs. Flannigan outside of the door.

"What's wrong, Mr. Upton?"

"That is what I am trying to find out. Miss Ardell is missing. If I go out, will you look after the children?"

"Sure, Oi will, bless the dears," she said. Her heart was as large as her ruddy, full-blown face.

Without waiting longer, Jerry ran down into the street and endeavored to trace the carriage down to the ferry. In this he was successful, and learned that the turnout containing two men and a young lady, who appeared to be ill, had crossed to Brooklyn.

By this time night had set in, and all efforts to follow the carriage proved unsuccessful. Yet unwilling to give up, Jerry spent over two hours in Brooklyn, hunting in every direction for a clew.

Our hero had never been across the East River before, and in hunting around it was but natural that he should get lost. At the end of the search he found himself a good distance from the river, in a neighborhood that looked anything but respectable.

"It's time I got back," thought the youth, and started to make inquiries.

"You're a dozen blocks out of your way," said a man. "Go down that way three blocks, and turn to your left."

As Jerry walked along a somewhat gloomy street, he noticed three men walking ahead of him. One was a tall, finely built man, wearing a large round hat, of the western type.

The other men were short fellows, each with a red mustache. They carried heavy canes and walked on either side of the tall individual.

"Aren't we almost there?" Jerry heard the tall man ask, as he drew closer to the trio.

"Yes, it ain't but a step further," was the reply from one of the short men.

"You are certain this Crazy Jim is the man I am after?"

"Oh, yes."

The mentioning of Crazy Jim's name interested Jerry. Crazy Jim was still up on Blackwell's Island. It was possible, however, that they referred to some other individual.

To hear what further they might have to say the young oarsman kept close to the party.

"It's been a long hunt for me, gentlemen," said the tall man, and by his speech Jerry felt sure he was a westerner. "But if I am on the right trail, things will soon come out right."

"What do you want to find Crazy Jim for?" asked one of the short men.

"I'm not saying any thing about that just now," was the cool response.

"Oh, excuse me, of course not." The short fellow looked around, but failed to catch sight of our hero. "Jack, how about a smoke?" he said to the other short fellow.

"Strike a light," was the answer.

The words were evidently a secret signal, for hardly were they spoken when one of the short men caught the westerner from behind and held his arms.

"Here, what's the meaning of this?" cried the man, in alarm.

"Keep still, old man, and we won't hurt you. Raise a row and you'll get knocked out. Quick, Pete, with his diamond pin and that roll of bills in his left pocket!"

At this command the man in front rushed in and caught hold of the man's pin. Out it came in his hand, a beautiful affair, worth at least a hundred dollars.

"Stop! stop!" yelled the westerner. "Police! police!"

"Shut up!" hissed the man who held him. "Pete, crack him over the head. We can't afford to take any chances here."

Thus ordered, the man who held the diamond pin slipped it into his pocket. Then he raised his heavy cane and started to do as bidden when Jerry rushed at him.

"Stop! Don't hit that man!"

The rascal was surprised.

"Who are you? Oh, it's only a boy. Clear out of here!"

"I won't! You let that man alone."

"Don't leave me," pleaded the victim. "They want to rob me. He has my diamond pin!"

"Shut up!" howled the man in the rear. "Crack him, Pete, and crack the boy, too."

Once more the heavy cane was raised. Our hero caught it in the center, and by a dexterous twist wrenched it from the rascal's hand.

With a howl of baffled rage the rascal turned and caught Jerry by the throat.

"Give me that stick, boy, or I'll choke the life out of you!" he hissed into the youth's ear.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

JERRY HEARS AN ASTONISHING STATEMENT.

When the footpad, for the fellow was nothing less, attacked Jerry, our hero felt that he had a tough struggle before him.

The rascal's grasp on the young oarsman's throat was light, however, and Jerry quickly shook it off.

In the meantime the westerner began to struggle and shout at the top of his voice:

"Help! Police! police!"

In vain the fellow who held him tried to stop his cries. They grew louder, and soon footsteps were heard approaching.

Jerry received a savage blow on the chest and struck out in return, hitting the footpad in the chin. Then the two clinched, and both rolled to the pavement.

Jerry's assailant was a strong man and he was slowly but surely getting the best of the youth when three men put in an appearance. They were heavy-set individuals and were followed by a policeman.

"What's up here?"

"Don't kill that boy!"

"He is a thief!" cried Jerry. "He has that man's diamond pin."

"That's right," put in the westerner, who had managed to turn and catch hold of his assailant. "This fellow is his mate. They just tackled me when the boy came to my help."

"It is a falsehood," roared the footpad who had attacked our hero.

Saying this, he arose and tried to sneak away. But Jerry tripped him up, sending him headlong, and before he could rise the policeman had him handcuffed.

While this was going on the westerner and two of the new arrivals managed to make a prisoner of the other footpad. He used some terrible language, but this did not avail him.

"I know them," said the policeman, after the capture was effected. "They are Hungry Pete and Jack the Slick. They are wanted for a burglary at Sheepshead Bay. How did you happen to fall in with them?"

"I met them up at Rumford's Hotel. They said they knew a man I was looking for."

"Will you come along and make a charge against them?"

"Certainly. He has my diamond pin."

The pin was brought to light and handed over to its owner, and then our hero was asked to go along.

Anxious to know what the westerner might want of Crazy Jim, Jerry agreed, and a minute later found the whole crowd bound for the nearest station-house.

Here the westerner gave his name as Colonel Albert Dartwell. He said he was from Denver and had come east on private business.

"I have been sick for two months," he said. "I am still weak. That is the reason I did not put up a better fight when those two men tackled me."

Jerry told his story, and the upshot of the matter was that the two footpads were held for another hearing before the judge in the morning.

"My boy, I owe you something for your services to me," said the westerner, as he and our hero came out on the street. "You did well for a boy."

"I did the best I could," replied the young oarsman "But I want to ask you a question. I heard you mention Crazy Jim. What do you want to see him for?"

A look of pain crossed Colonel Dartwell's face at my words.

"It's a long story, Upton. I am from the West and came many miles to see him. Do you know the man?"

"I know one fellow called Crazy Jim, sir."

"His right name is James MacHenry."

"That's the man."

"Ah! And where can he be found?"

"Most likely on Blackwell's Island."

"He is in prison?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"For breaking the glass in a store window and creating a row."

Colonel Dartwell drew a long breath.

"Those footpads told me he was in a hotel in the neighborhood. You are sure you are right?"

"Yes, sir. To be truthful, I was mixed up in the scrape that took Crazy Jim to prison."

"Indeed. Would you mind telling me about it? You don't look like a boy that would do wrong."

"It wasn't my fault. Crazy Jim had a packet belonging to me—a packet containing some valuable documents. I called for them and found he had given them up to an enemy of mine."

"And that led to the row."

"Not exactly. He is a bad man, and there was a little girl living with him, and he—"

As Jerry spoke Colonel Dartwell grasped him by the arm.

"Stop! What did you say about a little girl?" he demanded, eagerly.

"I said there was a little girl living with him. He used to send her out to beg. He got it into his head that she had set me against him, and he started to beat her. I told her to run away, and then he attacked me and got arrested."

"And what became of the little girl? Tell me, quickly!" And Colonel Dartwell's voice was husky as he spoke.

"I met her afterward and took her to where I was boarding, and she is still stopping there."

"Describe her to me."

Seeing there was something behind the inquiry, Jerry gave him the best description he could. The colonel listened with fixed attention.

"It must be her!" he murmured. "My poor, lost Dottie."

"Dottie! That's her name!" cried our hero. "And she is—"

"She is my daughter," was his answer.

"Your daughter!" ejaculated Jerry, in amazement.

"Yes, my daughter. Take me to her at once."

"I will, sir; but this is the strangest thing I ever heard."

"I have no doubt of it."

"Was she stolen from you?"

"Yes. It's a long story. I will tell it to you while we are on the way. She is well?"

"Yes, sir. But she has been misused, so you mustn't expect to see her looking real good. She is very thin."

"I have not seen her for four years, not since she was a mite of a toddler."

The pair started for the ferry without delay, and as they proceeded, the colonel related his story.

He was a mine-owner and had lived in the West for fifteen years. His wife had died when Dottie was born, and the child had been turned over to the care of a colored nurse.

At that time James MacHenry had been a prospector in the region and he had opened a mine close to that located by the colonel.

All went well until the MacHenry mine petered out as it is called, and then the man's mind became deranged. He accused the colonel of having cheated him out of a slice of the richest land and a bitter quarrel resulted.

Two weeks later MacHenry disappeared, and shortly after that baby Dottie was missing. A long search was made for the child, but without avail.

Curiously enough, the colonel did not connect the disappearance of his child with that of Crazy Jim. He started to hunt for the little one among the Indians and the outlaws in the mountains.

Two years passed, and then one night a good-for-nothing miner named Duffy was shot in a quarrel over a game of cards. On his dying bed Duffy confessed that he had once been intimate with Crazy Jim and that the latter had acknowledged stealing Dottie.

A hunt was at once made for the abductor. It was said he had gone to San Francisco, and later on he was traced to Chicago, but there the trail was lost until long after, when a tramp turned up who spoke of having seen Crazy Jim around New York.

Without delay Colonel Dartwell had come East and scoured the metropolis. While here he had fallen in with footpads who had sought to rob him.



CHAPTER XXXVII.

A JOYOUS MEETING.

By the time Colonel Dartwell's story was told he and Jerry had landed in the metropolis, and a hurried walk of a few minutes brought them to Nellie Ardell's apartment. Mrs. Flannigan was waiting for our hero, having put both of the children to bed.

"An' did ye find Miss Ardell?" she asked, quickly.

"No, Mrs. Flannigan. But I have found somebody else—the father of little Dottie."

"Indade, now! An' ain't that noice'" she exclaimed, glancing at Colonel Dartwell's well-dressed figure. "Well, the poor dear needs somebody, not but what she got good care here," she added, hastily.

Tears stood in the colonel's eyes as he stepped up beside the bed upon which Dottie lay. He took the white-robed figure up in his arms and kissed her face.

"It is she," he said, in a choking voice. "The living picture of her dead mother!"

Dottie awoke with a start and was inclined to cry out. But Jerry and the colonel quickly soothed her.

"I am your papa, Dottie; don't you remember papa and big Ruth that used to be with you?"

The little girl looked puzzled. Then she gave a cry.

"Papa! papa! I know you! I knew you would come to me! Oh, papa, don't go away again! Crazy Jim said you were dead! Oh, papa!"

And she clung to him convulsively. It was such an affecting scene Jerry had to turn away, while Mrs. Flannigan, standing in the partly open doorway, shed copious tears.

An hour later the children had again retired, and the colonel and the young oarsman sat in the little kitchen talking.

"And you say you think Miss Ardell was abducted?" he said.

"I felt sure of it, sir. This Alexander Slocum wants to get her out of the way on account of some property he is holding back from her. I am interested in the same property."

And Jerry told him the particulars of affairs so far as they concerned Slocum.

"If the land in question is near Sacramento it ought to be of great value," said the colonel. "Property in that section is booming."

"I want to find Nellie Ardell, sir. I am afraid he will do her bodily harm. He might even kill her to get her out of the way."

"I will help you all I can, Upton. You have done me a great service, and I certainly owe the young lady much for taking my child in and caring for her."

Our hero and the colonel went over the matter carefully for fully an hour and decided to start on a hunt as soon as it grew light. The colonel offered to employ a detective and this offer Jerry readily accepted.

Jerry passed several hours trying to sleep, and at the first sign of dawn was up and dressed. The colonel had rested in an arm-chair, not caring to separate himself from his child by going to a hotel.

Mrs. Flannigan was again called upon and readily agreed to take charge of Tommy and Dottie once more. She took them to her own rooms and was cautioned about letting strangers in.

"Don't fear, they'll not take 'em from me," she said, and in such a determined way that Jerry was compelled to laugh.

The call at a detective's office was soon over, and it was not as satisfactory as our hero had anticipated.

"You mustn't expect too much," laughed the colonel. "In spite of the thrilling detective stories published, detectives are only ordinary men, and cannot do the impossible. Mr. Gray will no doubt go to work in his own way and do the best he can."

Their next movement was to cross to Brooklyn. Here the pair started on the hunt for the carriage that had carried Nellie Ardell off.

An hour was spent in a fruitless search. They were about to give it up, when they saw a carriage coming down to the ferry that was covered with dust and mud.

"That looks as if it had been out in the country a good distance," observed Colonel Dartwell. "I'll stop the driver and see what he has to say. It can do no harm."

Walking up in front of the team he motioned for the driver to halt.

"Want a carriage, boss?"

"No, I want to know where you have been?" demanded the westerner.

At this question the driver seemed plainly disconcerted. He looked around, and, seeing a clear space to his left, whipped up his animals and sped off.

"He's our man!" cried the colonel. "Come on, he must not escape us!"

He set off with all speed and Jerry followed. The driver drove as far as the first corner and then had to halt because of a blockade in the street.

"Come down here!" commanded Colonel Dartwell.

"I ain't done nothin'," growled the fellow. "You let me alone."

"I asked you where you had been."

"Up to the park."

"Who did you have for a fare?"

"An old man."

"That's not true—you had two men and a girl."

The carriage driver muttered something under his breath.

"I—I—who said I had the men and a girl?" he asked, surlily.

"I say so. Where did you take the young lady?"

At first the driver beat about the bush. But the colonel threatened him with arrest, and this brought him around.

"Don't arrest me, boss. I wasn't in the game. The men hired me to take 'em out—that was all. They said the girl was light-headed and the place was a private asylum."

"Probably," rejoined Colonel Dartwell, sarcastically. "Take us to that place without delay. But stop—drive to police headquarters first."

Very unwillingly the fellow complied. At the headquarters help was procured in the shape of two ward detectives. All four of the party entered the carriage and were driven off to effect Nellie Ardell's rescue.

It was with deep interest that Jerry accompanied Colonel Dartwell and the officers of the law in the search for the missing young lady.

On through the crowded streets of Brooklyn drove the carriage, the driver now apparently as willing to help the law as he had before wished to evade it.

The carriage was turning into one of the fine thoroughfares when Jerry caught sight of a figure which instantly arrested his attention. The figure was that of Mr. Wakefield Smith.

"Stop!" cried the young oarsman to the driver of the carriage.

"What's up?" demanded the colonel.

"Do you see that man over there by the paper stand?"

"Yes."

"That is Wakefield Smith, the pickpocket."

"Indeed! He ought to be arrested."

"You know him to be a pickpocket?" questioned one of the detectives.

"I do. He robbed me of over twenty dollars. I got back ten dollars. He's a very smooth and slick worker."

"I think I know that chap," returned the detective. "Don't he look like Charley the Dude?" he asked of his companion.

"By Jove! that's our man!" ejaculated the second detective. "I would know him anywhere by that peculiar walk. He has grown a heavy mustache since I saw him last."

"Will you stop and arrest him?" asked Jerry. "He ought to be locked up." "We can get the policeman on the beat to attend to him. There is an officer on the next corner. Just call him, Harrity."

The carriage was brought up to the curb and our hero and the officers alighted, the Colonel remaining behind to keep an eye on the driver.

Mr. Wakefield Smith was strolling down the street in a lordly way when Jerry tapped him on the shoulder.

"So I've met you again," he said.

The pickpocket turned and his face fell. But only for a moment; then he gazed at the youth brazenly.

"I don't know you, me boy," he drawled in an assumed voice.

"But I know you, Mr. Smith," rejoined Jerry. "I want the balance of my money. I got ten dollars the night you were intoxicated, but that is not enough."

"Boy, you are talking riddles. I never saw you before."

"I can easily prove it, I fancy."

"It's no use, Charley," broke in the detective, who had followed me. "We know you well enough."

"And who are you?" asked the pickpocket, much disconcerted.

"I am a detective. You are the rogue known as Charley the Dude. You may consider yourself under arrest."

"This is an outrage!"

"Hardly."

By this time the second detective had arrived with a policeman. At sight of the bluecoat the pickpocket became nervous. Turning, he suddenly started to run.

But the others ran for him, and soon he was handcuffed. Explanations to the policeman followed, and the officer took him off, and Jerry and the detectives continued on their way.

It may be well to state here that the pickpocket, whose real name was Charles Heulig, was later on convicted of several crimes and sent to state prison for a term of years. Jerry never received a cent of the balance of the money due, but other events that followed made this loss seem a trivial one.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

ALEXANDER SLOCUM IS BROUGHT TO BOOK.

In half an hour after the arrest of the pickpocket the young oarsman and his companions found themselves on the outskirts of Brooklyn and bowling along a smooth country road which the detectives said they knew well.

On and on they went, until Colonel Dartwell asked the driver how much further they had to go.

"About half a mile, sir," was the answer.

His words proved correct. Turning into a side road, the carriage came to the entrance to a large grounds, surrounded by a high board fence.

Over the gateway was the sign:

DR. HALCONE'S PRIVATE SANITARIUM.

"A private lunatic asylum," murmured Colonel Dartwell.

"Yes, sir," said the driver. "You know I told you they said the young lady was a bit off."

"What shall we do?" was the question put by the westerner to the detectives. "Shall we go in boldly and order them to produce the girl?"

"Will they do it?" asked Jerry. "They may be in Slocum's pay, and hide her away."

"The young man is right," said one of the detectives. "We'll drive on a way and then sneak back and size the place up."

This was done, and five minutes later found the colonel and our hero walking along a hedge which separated the grounds on one side from a woods.

"Look there!" Jerry cried suddenly, and pointed to an upper window of the brick building beyond.

He had seen Nellie Ardell's face as the young lady walked about the apartment. As the others gazed upward Alexander Slocum appeared. He held a sheet of paper and a pen in his hands.

"He wants her to sign something," cried our hero in a low voice. "See! see! he is going to force her."

"Leave me be, Mr. Slocum," those below heard Nellie Ardell exclaim. "I will not sign off my interest in that property. Leave me be! Oh, that somebody was at hand to help me!"

"Come on—there is no time to waste!" cried Colonel Dartwell, and pushed through the hedge.

Jerry followed, and both ran for a side door of the building, which stood open.

Here they found themselves confronted by a burly man of advanced age, evidently the proprietor of the sanitarium.

"Here, what do you want here?" he demanded, roughly.

"We want that young lady upstairs!" cried Jerry.

"You can't have her."

"We'll see about that," put in Colonel Dartwell. "You have no authority to detain her here."

"She is insane, and——"

"Help! help!" came from upstairs, and rushing past the burly doctor, Jerry skipped up the stairs, three steps at a time.

The colonel came behind. The doctor was about to remonstrate when he found himself confronted by the two detectives.

Our hero and the colonel soon found the proper door. It was locked, but putting his shoulder to it the young oarsman soon burst it open.

Alexander Slocum stood at the table in the center of the room. He had Nellie Ardell by the wrist, and was endeavoring to force her to sign the paper before them.

"Leave her alone, you villain!" cried Jerry, and dragged him backward.

"Jerry Upton!" exclaimed the young woman, and her tone was full of joy. "Oh, how thankful I am that you have come!"

"What—what is the meaning of this?" asked Slocum, turning deadly pale.

"It means that you have been found out, Alexander Slocum," replied our hero. "We have learned—"

"Darnley the boomer!" burst out Colonel Dartwell at this point. "So this is where you drifted to after the swindle at Silver Run."

"Do you know him?" queried Jerry.

"Only too well. He was in Colorado for several years under the name of Chester Darnley. He is a boomer and all-around swindler."

"It's a—a falsehood," burst from Alexander Slocum's lips, but his voice trembled as he spoke.

"I can prove all I say," said the colonel. "There are witnesses enough against you at Silver Run."

Slocum was all but overcome. He sank in a chair, and a moment later one of the detectives came up and slipped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.

The proprietor of the so-called sanitarium was also arrested, and both prisoners were driven down to the Brooklyn police station. A hearing was had, and the prisoners were held for trial.

From Brooklyn the colonel, Nellie, and Jerry returned to New York. Nellie left the party to go home, and Jerry and the colonel continued on to Slocum's office with an officer.

The book-keeper, Casey, was found and arrested, and the office was placed in care of the authorities. The next day Jerry recovered his father's papers and also those belonging to Nellie Ardell.

The young oarsman lost no time in sending word home how matters had turned, stating that the claim was probably worth a good deal of money. He added that if his father was not well enough to come to the metropolis, Colonel Dartwell stood ready to take entire charge of the case and see that they got their rights.

An answer soon came back, written by Mrs. Upton. Mr. Upton was well enough to sit up, but that was all, and he would be glad enough to do as his son had suggested. So the necessary papers were made out, and a suit instituted against Alexander Slocum.

In the meantime, Mr. Islen sold out his bindery, and by this turn of affairs our hero found himself out of employment. But he had had enough of the great metropolis for the present, and was glad enough to go back to Lakeview while awaiting the time when Slocum should be brought to trial.

The news of what he had accomplished had leaked out, and when he arrived he found Harry and Blumpo awaiting him at the depot.

"You're a clever one, Jerry!" cried Harry, shaking his hand warmly. "To run off on the quiet and come back with a fortune for your family."

"We haven't got the fortune yet," laughed the young oarsman. "But we hope to have it before long."

"I always said Jerry was de greatest boy dat eber was born," ejaculated Blumpo, with his face on a broad grin.

"How is your father? Blumpo," asked Jerry, to change the subject.

"He's very well again."

"You must tell us your whole story," went on Harry. "I am dying to hear it."

"I will—but I must get home first," answered the young oarsman.

He was soon on his way to the farm, where his parents received him with open arms. A splendid dinner was awaiting him—such a repast as he had not had since leaving—but none of the food was touched until his tale was told from end to end, with all of its details as they have been presented to my readers.

"You did well, son," was Mr. Upton's comment. "I don't believe anybody could have done better."

Mrs. Upton smiled fondly and put her arms about the boy.

"He's our Jerry, father," was all she said, but the simple words meant a good deal.

His own story told, and the dinner finished, Jerry wanted to know the news around Lakeview, but his parents had little to tell.

"I have not been out since your father was taken down," said Mrs. Upton. "You'll have to asked Harry Parker and your other friends."

"Have Si Peters and Wash Crosby been caught yet?"

"No, and I doubt if they ever do catch them," responded Mrs. Upton.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

HARRY TO THE RESCUE.

Early on the following morning Harry came over to take Jerry for a sail on the lake in the Whistler.

"We can sail and talk at the same time," he explained. "I know you must be longing for a whiff of the water."

"You are right there, Harry," returned the young oarsman, "Lake Otasco is better than the hot pavements of New York City a hundred times over."

The two boys soon set off. Harry had expected Blumpo to accompany them, but that youth was out in his own boat with a party that had hired the craft for several days.

"Blumpo is making money," said Harry, "and I am glad of it."

"So am I," replied our hero. "He is an odd sort of chap, but his heart is of gold."

The Whistler was soon on her way up the lake with old Jack Broxton at the tiller, and as the breeze was steady the boys had little to do but talk. Once again our hero related his story, and Harry proved a most attentive listener.

"That Alexander Slocum ought to go to prison for life," he said, at the conclusion. "The idea of daring to make out that Nellie Ardell was insane."

"It was a bold scheme, Harry."

"It seems to me the world is full of bad people, Jerry. Look at such men as that Slocum and his tools, and then at such boys as Si Peters and Wash Crosby."

"Where do you suppose Crosby and Peters are?"

"The authorities don't know. But Blumpo told me a few days ago he was almost certain he had seen them on the north shore of the lake. He said they took to their heels in the bushes just about the time he spotted them."

"They are bound to be brought to justice sooner or later."

"I don't know. But I do know one thing; I would like to get back my gold watch."

Thus the talk ran on, until Hermit Island was reached. Here they run in for a few minutes, to pass a word with Blumpo's father, who greeted them cordially. After this, they continued up along the south side of the lake.

As they skirted the beautiful shore they gradually crept up to a large excursion boat. "Hullo, what's that boat doing here?" cried Jerry.

"It's a Sunday-school excursion from Cedar Falls," replied his chum.

The steamboat was not a large one and she seemed to have more than her regular allowance of passengers aboard. Every deck was full of grown folks and children, dressed in their best.

A band was playing a merry air, and some of the children were singing.

"Let's give them a cheer," suggested the young oarsman, as they drew closer.

"All right," replied Harry, pulling out his handkerchief. "One, two, three. Hurrah! hur——"

Harry stopped short, as a cry of horror arose on board of the excursion boat.

A young girl had been standing close to the rail on a camp stool at the bow of the boat.

As the steamboat swung around the girl lost her balance.

She tried to save herself, and, failing, pitched headlong into the water.

Harry saw her go under the greenish waves.

"She'll be struck by the paddle wheel," he yelled, and then, splash! he was overboard himself.

Bravely he struck out to save the maiden.

The order was given to back the steamboat.

The wheels churned up the water into a white foam, but still the momentum carried the large craft on. In the meantime Harry came up and struck out valiantly for the girl, who was now going down for a second time.

"Save her! Save her!" shrieked the mother of the girl, in an agony of fear.

Half a dozen life preservers were thrown overboard, but none came to where the girl could reach them.

The mother of the girl wanted to join her daughter in the water but strong hands held her back.

"The young fellow will save her, madam!"

"He's a true hero!"

Life lines were thrown over, but even these did no good.

The steamboat swung around, but the run of the water washed the girl closer and closer to the paddle wheel.

She now came up a second time. Should she sink again all would be over.

Harry was swimming with all the strength and skill at his command.

At last he was within a yard of the struggling girl.

The maiden threw up her hands and went under.

As quick as a flash Harry dove down.

A second passed. Then up came the youth with the girl clinging to his shoulder.

But now the current was apparently too strong for both of them.

They were hurled up against the paddle wheel of the steamboat, and then disappeared entirely from view.

Jack Broxton gave a groan.

"Harry is lost!"

Jerry shuddered.

"It looks like it," he replied.

The captain of the steamboat did not dare to move his craft for fear he would do more harm than good.

The mother of the girl continued to struggle to free herself.

But now a cry was heard. It came from the stern of the steamboat.

"There they are!"

"The girl is safe and so is that brave young man."

Jerry and Jack Broxton heard the cry, and immediately put about in their yacht.

Harry was swimming along on his side. The girl was too weak to support herself, and he was holding her up well out of the water.

It took the Whistler but a moment to run up alongside of the pair. Jerry reached over and caught hold of the girl and placed her on deck.

In the meantime Harry secured a rope thrown by Jack Broxton and pulled himself up.

A cheer arose from those on the excursion boat.

"She is safe now, sure!"

The girl was too exhausted to move, and both boys rubbed her hands and did what they could for her.

Jack Broxton ran up alongside of the steamboat and a little later the girl was placed on board.

The mother clasped her child to her breast.

"Go ahead, Jack," said Harry in a low voice. "I don't want the crowd to stare at me."

"But the mother wants to thank you," began Jerry.

But Harry would not listen. He was too modest, and made Jack Broxton actually run away from the excursion boat.

But five hundred people cheered Harry and waved their handkerchiefs.

"How did you escape the steamboat?" asked Jerry, when the excitement was over.

"We went under part of her," was the reply. "I swam for all I knew how, but it was a close call."

After this Harry retired to the cabin and changed his clothing. He drank several cups of hot coffee, and half an hour later declared that he felt as well as ever.

The remainder of the run down the lake was uneventful. They dropped anchor near the mouth of the Poplar River and started in to fish.

They had all the necessary tackle on board, and procured bait at a boathouse near by.

The yacht was anchored at a well-known spot, and then the sport began.

"I've a bite!" cried Harry

And sure enough he had something. He began to reel in with great rapidity.

"First fish," said Jerry.

Scarcely had Harry landed his haul than click, click, click went Jerry's reel. The line went off like a flash.

Jerry began to reel in. That something big was on his hook was certain.

The fish darted in every direction and Jerry had his hands full playing him.

"You'll lose him!" cried Harry, excitedly.

"I'll do my best with him," responded Jerry, quietly.

After playing the fish for nearly five minutes he reeled him in rapidly.

"Get the landing net, Jack," he said, and the old tar stood ready the moment the fish came into view.

"A bass! A three-pounder!" cried Harry. "By jinks! but that's a haul worth making!"

It was indeed a beautiful catch, and Jerry was justly proud of it.

After this nothing was caught for twenty minutes. Then Harry landed a fine fat perch weighing a pound. Jack was not fishing, but smoked and looked on contentedly.

Evening found them with a fine mess of bass and perch.

"Not a bad haul," said Jerry, as he surveyed the lot.

"I reckon it's about time to be gitting back," observed Jack Broxton. "We want ter make Lakeview afore dark."

So the anchor was hoisted and away they went before a nine-knot breeze.

The return was made along the north shore. Here there were numerous little islands, separated from the mainland by a series of channels, some shallow and others deep enough to admit of the passage of a good-sized yacht.

The Whistler was just passing one of these channels, and Jerry and Harry were at the side, cleaning their fish, when suddenly old Jack Broxton uttered a cry.

"What is it, Jack?" asked the young oarsman, quickly, while Harry also raised up.

"There's a boat over yonder, back of that island, and I'm certain I saw Si Peters and Wash Crosby on board," was the old boatman's interesting answer.



CHAPTER XL.

A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK.

"You are sure?" demanded Jerry and Harry, in a breath.

"Yes. The boat had the name Redeye painted on the stern. If I remember rightly, she belongs to a tough crowd of fishermen from Long Lake."

"Where is she now?" demanded Harry.

"Back there, somewhere."

"We must follow that boat; eh, Jerry?"

"I am willing," replied the young oarsman.

"You may have lively times with that crowd," put in Jack Broxton with a grave shake of his head.

"We'll risk it," answered Harry. He was thinking of his missing gold watch.

The course of the Whistler was changed, and soon they rounded the shore of the island Jack Broxton had pointed out.

Sure enough, there was the Redeye, with all sails set, making up the lake.

Near the stern stood Si Peters, Wash Crosby and several rascally looking men.

"They have discovered that we are after them," cried Jerry, a few minutes later. "See, they are crowding on all sail!"

The young oarsman was right. Leaving the vicinity of the islands, the other craft stood out boldly into the lake, and cut the water like a knife.

"She's a good one," observed Jack Broxton.

The Whistler already had all sails out; and thus the craft went on, neither gaining nor losing for half an hour.

Then darkness settled over the lake, and the wind fell flat.

"We've lost them now," said Harry, dismally.

"It's a good thing the wind has fallen," replied Jerry.

"How so?"

"As soon as it is dark enough we can take the row-boat and follow in that."

"That's an idea."

Soon night had settled over Lake Otasco. Then our hero and Harry lost no time in entering the tender of the Whistler.

"Make as little noise as possible," cautioned Jerry.

He was in the bow peering ahead, while Harry was at the oars.

So they went on a distance of a quarter of a mile.

"See anything?" whispered Harry.

"Not yet. Pull in a little closer to shore. I have an idea Peters and Crosby may land somewhere around here."

"Like as not that is their game."

On they went, the darkness growing more intense as they proceeded. There was no moon, and the stars shone but faintly in the blue vault overhead.

Suddenly Jerry held up his hand as a sign to Harry to stop rowing. Instantly his chum raised the oars.

"What do you see?" he whispered.

"Something ahead—I can't make out just what yet."

Several minutes of breathless silence followed. Then Jerry bent back.

"The Redeye is just ahead, but I believe Si Peters and Wash Crosby have already left her."

A second later a low but clear cry rang out:

"You left that bundle behind, Crosby!"

"Never mind, I don't want the old suit," was the reply, coming from some distance in toward shore.

"That settles it," whispered Jerry. "Crosby and Peters are in a row-boat pulling for shore, beyond a doubt."

"That's all right," replied Harry. "I would rather tackle them than all those on the Redeye."

"So would I."

The row-boat was headed for the west.

How far off the shore was they did not know.

They had located the voice of Crosby and now steered in the direction.

Jerry at the bow continued to keep his ears on the alert.

"A little to the right, now," he said. "That's it. If you don't make too much noise we'll surprise them completely."

"I think the best thing we can do is to follow them after they land, until they reach some place where we can have them locked up, Jerry."

"That is certainly a good plan. It will save us the trouble of dragging them off to jail, if we are fortunate enough to capture them."

Harry's plan was accepted, and on they went.

"Look!" cried Jerry, presently, and pointed down the shore.

"I don't see anything, Jerry."

"Don't you see the lights coming toward us?"

Harry strained his eyes.

"I see them now."

"It's a steamer coming this way."

"My gracious, we'll have to get out of the way or we'll be run down!"

"She is close in shore," went on Jerry. "I believe she'll pass between the other row-boat and ours."

"Let us hold up a minute and see what she intends to do," said Harry.

He rested on his oars. Soon the craft came closer. It was the excursion boat on her return.

"She is not coming near us," said Jerry. "Pull on."

Harry had just taken to the oars again, when a wild cry rang out. It came from the row-boat which held Peters and Crosby.

"Stop! Don't run us down!"

"The steamboat is onto them!" ejaculated Jerry.

Scarcely had he spoken when there came another cry, followed by a crash.

"They've been struck!" yelled Harry.

"Pull ahead!" cried Jerry. "Like as not they have either been killed or are drowning!"

He sprang to Harry's side, and with an oar each they sped on to the assistance of the unfortunate ones.

In the meanwhile the steamboat stopped.

"What's the trouble?" called a voice.

No answer was vouchsafed, and a moment later the steamboat went on.

"Like as not, Si Peters and Wash Crosby are dead," observed Harry, as he bent to his oar.

"We'll soon know the truth," replied the young oarsman.

Both boys pulled a swift stroke, and were soon on the spot where the catastrophe had occurred.

In the meanwhile the steamboat was fast disappearing in the distance. Soon the last light faded from sight.

In the darkness of the night Jerry and Harry could see but little.

"There is an oar," cried Harry, pointing it out.

"And there is part of the row-boat's bottom," said Jerry. "It looks as if the row-boat was actually ground to pieces."

"Then it isn't likely that Si Peters and Wash Crosby escaped."

"Well, we'll take a good look around."

The two continued to row about, but for a long while saw nothing but bits of wreckage.

Then our hero beheld a form floating just to their right.

"Take both oars, Harry," he said, "and be careful, for that is Wash Crosby's body."

Harry took the oars and began to row slowly.

As he moved on, Jerry stood in the bow.

At that instant a strange thing happened. Si Peters came up under the boat, giving it such a shove that Jerry was hurled overboard.

Then, with a swiftness that was really surprising, Si Peters clambered into the row-boat.

In his hand he held part of a broken oar.

"Jump out after Jerry Upton!" he growled as he advanced upon Harry.

Without replying, Harry leaped up to defend himself. As he did this he saw that Jerry and Wash Crosby were fighting in the water.

Neither Crosby nor Peters had been hurt by the collision, both having left their craft before the steamboat struck it.

Their one thought now was to get the good row-boat away from our two heroes.

Jerry, thinking Wash Crosby seriously hurt, was taken completely by surprise.

Crosby caught him by the shoulder and forced him far under the water, and then did his best to hold him there.

Crosby was a powerful fellow, and he well understood what defeat and capture meant—a term in prison.

But, as we know, Jerry's muscles were like iron, and his first surprise over, he went for Crosby tooth and nail.

With a powerful twist he freed himself from the rascal's grasp and swam some distance away.

Then coming up behind Crosby, the young oarsman let out with his right fist.

The blow took the Rockpoint bully behind the ear, and Crosby let out a wild yell of pain, broken by a gasp for air, as he went under the bosom of the ocean.

As he went down, our hero gave him an extra shove and then swam with all speed for the row-boat, which had drifted several yards away.

He saw Harry and Si Peters standing up in the boat. Peters had just struck at his chum, and Harry had partly dodged the vicious blow.

But the broken oar landed on Harry's arm, causing him to cry out from pain.

"Drop that, Si Peters."

The command, coming so unexpectedly, startled Peters. He turned, to find Jerry at the gunwale directly behind him.

"Oh, Jerry, help!" cried Harry.

Si Peters gave a low yell of rage.

Again Harry sprang away, and now armed himself with an oar.

"You can't frighten me, you fool!" shouted Peters. "Don't you dare to put your hand on the boat!"

And as Jerry grasped the gunwale, Peters raised his heavy foot as if to crush our hero's fingers.

But Jerry was too quick for him.

He dropped off. Then whizz! something dark flew through the air.

It was part of the broken oar, thrown by Jerry, and it took Si Peters in the neck.

"Whack him one, Harry, while you have the chance!"

Harry needed no advice on the subject. He sprang in, and a second later a resounding crack laid Si Peters flat on his back.

"That was a good one," cried Jerry, as he clambered over the side. "Now bind him before he comes to."

"Haven't a blessed thing," replied Harry.

"Here is some cord. Tie his hands together."

While Harry was doing this, Jerry began to look around for Wash Crosby.

"This way! We are in trouble!" yelled Crosby.

"Pshaw!" exclaimed Jerry. "He'll have that yacht down on us in another minute."

But for once the young oarsman was mistaken. The men on the Redeye had no desire, after befriending Si Peters and Wash Crosby, to fall into the hands of the law, and instead of coming up they allowed their craft to float off in an opposite direction.

"There is Crosby!" shouted Jerry, a moment later, as he beheld the youth floundering around in the water. "And look, here comes the Whistler."

He was right. A slight breeze had sprung up and Jack Broxton had nursed the yacht along with all of the skill at his command.

The coming of the old sailor ended the battle, so far as the bad boys from Rockpoint were concerned. Both Si Peters and Wash Crosby were hauled on board, and here they were tightly bound, to prevent their making further trouble.

It was after midnight when Lakeview was reached and the prisoners were handed over to the local police. Then Harry and Jerry separated, to go home and tell of their fresh adventures.

The following morning Si Peters and Wash Crosby were taken to Rockpoint and an examination was held. The bad boys confessed robbing the hotel and the larger part of the money taken was recovered, as was also Harry's gold watch, which Si Peters had been bold enough to wear. Some time later the evil-doers were tried and sent to jail, and that was the last our heroes heard of them.



CHAPTER XLI.

A LAST RACE—GOOD-BYE TO THE RIVAL OARSMEN.

"Hurrah, here they come!"

"It's going to be a dandy race, Harry."

"Indeed it is, Dick."

"There comes Hosmer!"

"Here comes Pinkney!"

"What's the matter with Villelet?"

"He's all right!"

The conversation took place on the bank of the Hudson River, not far from Poughkeepsie.

It was the day of the great intercollegiate boat races.

The single-shell race had just been ordered.

Among the number to compete in this race was Jerry Upton.

Our hero was rich now—that is, his folks were, which amounted to the same thing.

On trial it had been proven what a villain Alexander Slocum was. All of his masquerading in the west under the name of Darnley was exposed, as well as his fraudulent land schemes in the east. The real-estate manipulator was sent to prison for a term of years, and the property in California was divided up between Jerry's father, Nellie Ardell and several others who held an interest in it.

The land was found to be within the city limits of Sacramento, and the Upton share was computed to be worth forty-five thousand dollars.

Mr. Upton was offered forty thousand dollars for it, but by the advice of Colonel Dartwell, who became his intimate friend, he concluded to keep it.

"The investment is bringing in good interest," he said, "and as it was Jerry who did the work in getting it, the lad shall have it just as it stands when I and my wife die."

Immediately after these matters were settled up, Jerry began to study for college, and Harry did also, and both made the entrance examination with ease.

Jerry was a fine scholar and he was also one of the best oarsmen in his class. Harry likewise rowed a good deal, although not near as much as formerly.

It was a perfect day and the river was filled with pleasure boats, loaded down to the rails with sightseers. The banks of the stream were likewise lined with the crowds which had poured in to see the various college oarsmen compete for the supremacy in aquatic sports.

In the crowd on short was our old friend Blumpo Brown. Blumpo was now in business at Lakeview, letting out pleasure boats, of which he owned several, and he was unusually prosperous. Just at present he was wearing the colors of Jerry's college and "whooping her up" for our hero whenever the chance presented itself.

At the given signal the single shells took their places at the starting point.

The participants were the pick of the single-shell men, and Jerry realized that he would have a struggle to win.

A puff of smoke, the report of a gun, and they were off!

"A fine start!"

"Hosmer leads!"

"He will lead to the finish!"

"Pinkney is a close second!"

"Jerry Upton is third!"

"My! but they are cutting the water!"

"Two to one that Hosmer wins!"

"Three to one that the record is broken!"

"Foah to one dat Jerry Upton wins dis race!" cried Blumpo Brown, waving a big college flag over his head. "Dat boy don't know what it is to lose!"

"Hear that chap talk!"

"Pitch him overboard to cool him off!"

"Dat's all right, it's Jerry Upton's muscle dat's talkin', not me!" growled Blumpo.

Down the straight course came the single-shell oarsmen, each back bending to a long and powerful stroke.

The quarter stretch was past with Hosmer still in the lead.

Behind him came Pinkney and Jerry, side by side.

Then came the half stretch. The leaders still held the same positions.

"Told you Hosmer would win!"

"Jerry Upton is falling behind!"

It was true. Pinkney had increased his stroke and was crawling up slowly but surely to the leader.

"Pull, Jerry, pull," yelled Harry.

"You dun got to win dat race, suah!" screamed Blumpo.

Jerry heard them, but paid no heed. He was rowing the race of the year—the race that would make his college chums shout with joy or look glum for the balance of the season.

And now the three-quarter mark was past. A quarter of a mile more and the race would be over.

"See! Pinkney is drawing up to Hosmer!"

"Pinkney leads! Hosmer has dropped away behind!"

"Pinkney first and Jerry Upton second!"

"Villelet is crawling up!"

"He has passed Pinkney!"

And so the shouting went on. The end of the course was in sight. How the oarsmen were pulling! But now look at Jerry.

How like a flash his back bends! How powerful is that broad stroke! How quick his recovery!

In vain Pinkney tried to hold his lead. Jerry means to win and nothing can hold him back.

He fairly flies past Pinkney and comes in a winner by a length and a half. His friends go wild.

"Hurrah for Jerry Upton!" shouts Harry.

And the cheers echo and re-echo along the water and back to the distant hills.

Blumpo dances a breakdown for joy.

"I told you he could do it," he cries. "Da can't beat our Jerry nohow!"

"That's right, they can't!" adds Harry. "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

Jerry leaves his shell, and is hoisted up upon the shoulders of his friends and marched around the town.

That night he is given a big reception by his fellow students. It is the happiest moment of his life.

And here we will leave him and Harry and Blumpo, and all of the rest, shouting as do our hero's many friends:

"Hurrah for the Young Oarsman of Lakeview!"

THE END

————————————————————————————————————-

FAMOUS BOOKS FOR BOYS

These are new and superior editions of these famous authors' books for boys. They are printed from new plates on an excellent quality of paper while many are profusely illustrated. Each book is sewed, thus making a flexible back, so that it opens easily, making its reading a pleasure and a comfort. The covers are printed in two colors from appropriate designs on a heavy coated enameled paper in assorted colors.

FROM THE MODERN AUTHORS' LIBRARY

By G. A. Henty 260 Boy Knight, A 271 Cornet of Horse 280 Facing Death 285 Final Reckoning 295 In Freedom's Cause 296 In Times of Peril 297 In the Reign of Terror 299 Jack Archer 317 One of the 28th 318 Orange and Green 319 Out on the Pampas 337 True to the Old Flag 349 Under Drake's Flag 348 With Lee in Virginia

By J. Fenimore Cooper 170 Last of the Mohicans, The 178 Pathfinder, The 179 Pioneers, The 180 Prairie, The 187 Spy, The 254 Deerslayer

By Victor Hugo 36 By Order of the King 272 Cosette 283 Fantine 106 Hans of Iceland 37 History of a Crime 300 Jean Valjean 308 Marius 38 Ninety-Three 39 Notre Dame de Paris 331 St. Denis 40 Toilers of the Sea

By Emile Gaboriau 284 File No. 113— 287 Gilded Clique 108 Lecoq, the Detective 199 Lerouge Case, The 312 Mystery of Orcival

By Jules Verne 245 Michael Strogoff 219 Mysterious Island 189 Tour of the World in 80 Days 121 Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

By H. Rider Haggard 153 Allan Quartermain 223 Allan's Wife 160 Cleopatra 100 Jess 167 King Solomon's Mines 112 Miawa's Revenge 244 Mr. Meeson's Will 186 She

PRICE, POSTPAID 25c EACH OR ANY FIVE FOR $1.00

For sale by all book and newsdealers or sent postpaid to any address in the United States, Canada or Mexico upon receipt of price in currency, stamps, postal or express money order.

M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 407-429 Dearborn St., CHICAGO

————————————————————————————————————-

The Complete Guide To BLACKSMITHING, HORSESHOEING Carriage and Wagon Building and Painting

For all general mechanical work, this is the most valuable book for the farmer, blacksmith, carpenter, carriage and wagon building, painting and varnishing trades published. The department on Blacksmithing is based on the various text books by Prof. A. Lungwitz, Director of the Shoeing School of the Royal Veterinary College at Dresden, while the chapters on Carriage and Wagon Building, Painting, Varnishing, are by Charles F. Adams, one of the most successful builders in Wisconsin. The language employed is so simple that any young man of average ability can, in a short time, become proficient in all of these useful and profitable occupations. Each chapter is fully illustrated, there being more than 50 drawings throughout the book.

Full Cloth Binding, Price, $1.00

THE COMPLETE HOUSE BUILDER With Practical Hints on Construction

The subject of house building is of interest to all, even though financially they are at present unable to realize their cherished hopes. A few months or a year may so change the aspect of one's affairs as to render it possible to build. It is therefore well for all to anticipate the realization of a home and become familiar with the requisites of a good house, barn, warehouse or other necessary building. This valuable work contains not only Plans and Specifications for Dwellings, but Clubs, Churches, Public Buildings, Barns, and all necessary outbuildings for Farms, Country Seats, Suburban Homes, etc.; accurate estimates of materials with cost, and all Tables and Rules necessary in Plastering, Plumbing, Painting, Roofing, Masonry, Cornice, Windows, Doors and Porch Materials, with 50 Plans and Specifications on buildings from $476 up are given. 176 pages, 12mo.

Paper, 25 Cents; Cloth, 50 Cents.

For sale by all book and newsdealers, or will be sent to any address in the United States, Canada or Mexico, postage paid, on receipt of price, in currency, money order or stamps.

M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 407-429 Dearborn St. CHICAGO

————————————————————————————————————-

WEBSTER'S HANDY AMERICAN DICTIONARY.

Containing 320 pages, 16mo; over 500 illustrations. An excellent dictionary for school and office use. Bound in cloth and title stamped on the front in ink from ornamented dies.

Price, 25 Cents.

DONOHUE'S WEBSTER'S SCHOOL DICTIONARY AND AMERICAN PICTORIAL HANDY LEXICON OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

Revised, enlarged and corrected to date by Charles Walter Brown, A. M. Over 50,000 words, 300 illustrations. The latest and best dictionary for the price published. Nearly 400 pages. Full cloth.

Price, 35 Cents.

Popular American Dictionary of the English Language.

Illustrated and compiled on the basis of Webster, Worcester, Johnson and the most eminent English and American authorities. Containing over thirty-two thousand words with accurate definitions, proper spelling and exact pronunciation, and contains a special department of Law, Banks and Banking. Complete descriptive Dictionary and Encyclopedia, including Mercantile Law, Constitution of the United States, etc.; 544 pages, 12mo; over 500 illustrations; bound in cloth, stamped in ink.

Price, 75 Cents.

DONAHUE'S WEBSTER'S FAVORITE DICTIONARY OF VALUABLE INFORMATION AND POPULAR BUSINESS GUIDE.

Comprising all Business, Musical and Classical Terms, Abbreviations; Nicknames of Cities and States; Church, Agricultural and Vital Statistics; Synonyms, Words and Phrases, Federal Constitution, Mercantile Law, Interest Tables, etc., etc., together with an up-to-date Biographical Dictionary of distinguished persons, with notes of their works, inventions or achievements. Revised from the more comprehensive work of Noah Webster, LL. D. 12mo. Near 300 large pages.

Price, 50 Cents.

For sale by all Book and Newsdealers, or will send to any address in the United States, Canada or Mexico, postage prepaid, on receipt of price, in currency, money order or stamps.

M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 407-429 Dearborn St. CHICAGO

————————————————————————————————————-

LIFE AND DEEDS OF ETHAN ALLEN AND THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS

BY CHARLES WALTER BROWN, A. M.

Author of "John Paul Jones," "Nathan Hale," "Lafayette," "Pulaski," "Washington," "Abraham Lincoln," "Sherman."

16 ILLUSTRATIONS.

The hero of Ticonderoga and leader of the Green Mountain Boys is best known for his characteristic demand upon the British garrison at Fort Ticonderoga, on Lake Champlain, to surrender "in the name of the Continental Congress and the Great Jehovah." This book not only gives a full account of the exploits of Colonel Allen, but contains also a brief history of Vermont, formerly called the New Hampshire Grants, in her contention with New York authorities, who opposed Vermont's admission into the Union, but which was finally accomplished by Ethan Allen. "It is the best 'life' of Ethan Allen published." 12mo, cloth, size 5-5/8 x 7-7/8, nearly 300 pages.

Price, Postpaid . . . . . . . . . . . $1.00

LIFE AND DEEDS OF JOHN PAUL JONES OF NAVAL FAME

By Charles Walter Brown, A. M.

12 Illustrations.

American history gleams with the brilliant achievements of her adopted sons. No historian ever wearies in telling of the glorious deeds and self-sacrifices of Lafayette, de Kalb, Pulaski, Kosciuszko, de Grasse, Rochambeau, Steuben, St. Clair, d'Estaing and John Paul Jones, who gave up home and country to aid the struggling colonists in their fight for freedom. This is one of the most patriotic books, both from a literary and artistic standpoint, ever issued. It is printed on a superior quality of paper with a dozen or more half-tone portraits of the principal actors, who participated in our struggle for independence, together with a chart and views of Jones' most daring exploits on the coasts of England and on the Black Sea, with his portrait in the full uniform of Admiral of the United States Navy, of which he was the founder. Cover stamped in red, white and gold on a navy blue silk cloth, showing in beautiful colors the colonial flags and American shield with its thirteen stars and stripes, with Jones' sword in gold as ornamental back stamp. Size, 5-5/8 x 7-7/8; nearly 300 pages; 12mo; cloth.

Price, Postpaid . . . . . . . . . . . $1.00

This set of 2 volumes, "Allen" and "Jones" sent to one address, express paid, for $1.50

M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 407-429 Dearborn St. CHICAGO

————————————————————————————————————-

FAMOUS BOOKS FOR BOYS

Famous Frontiersmen, Pioneers and Scouts.

A thrilling narrative of the lives and marvelous exploits of the most renowned Heroes, Trappers, Explorers, Adventurers and other Scouts and Indian Fighters, by H. G. Gattermole, A. B. 540 pages, over 250 full page portraits and illustrations; bound in English Silk Cloth, stamped in Inks. List price, $1.00.

The Boy Spy.

By Major Kerbey. A substantially true record of Secret Service during the Rebellion. A correct account of events witnessed by a soldier attached to headquarters. The only practical history of the war telegraphers in the field. A full account of the mysteries of Signaling by Flags, Torches and Rockets. Thrilling scenes of Battles, Captures and Escapes. Fully illustrated by True Williams. Large 12 mo. Price, $1.00

Boys' Life on the Frontier.

By Frank W. Calkins. Containing Frontier Sketches, Indian Tales and Hunting Stories. The most interesting series of experiences ever published. All having originally appeared in the Youth's Companion, which is a guarantee of their superior excellence in every way. Containing 403 pages of large, clear type, and numerous illustrations, bound in cloth, stamped in Inks from unique dies.

War Path and Bivouac;

or, The Conquest of the Sioux. A narrative of stirring personal experiences and adventures on the frontier, and in the campaigns in the Northwest in 1879, by John F. Finerty; containing 468 pages; numerous engravings and illustrations; bound in Cloth; stamped in Inks from unique dies. One of the most interesting works on Frontier Life ever issued. List price, $1.00.

Marching Through Georgia.

Being Pen Pictures of Every Day Life in General Sherman's Army, from the beginning of the Atlanta Campaign until the close of the war. By F. Y. Hedley, Adjutant Thirty-Second Illinois Infantry, with Introduction by Charles Walter Brown, A.M. and with illustrations by F. L. Stoddard. Dedicated by permission to Mrs. John A. Logan; Autograph letter from General Sherman. 500 pages, large 12mo, cloth. Price $1.00.

For sale by all Book and Newsdealers, or will send to any address in the United States, Canada or Mexico, postage prepaid, on receipt of price, in currency, money order or stamps.

M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 407-429 Dearborn St. CHICAGO

————————————————————————————————————-

ONE THOUSAND WAYS TO MAKE MONEY Or, Things We Should Know

By Hon. Frank Gilbert Ex-Sub-Treasurer of the United States

Without doubt this is one of the most valuable books published for the young man or young woman who has not yet decided upon an occupation—trade or profession. In addition to information of incalculable value to every man, woman or child, the book is a most successful business guide for the safe conduct of business. A copy of this book together with The Complete Letter Writer should be in EVERY home, office and library. Each book contains 320 large pages, printed on a superior paper from new plates and bound in cloth, stamped in colors from original and appropriate designs.

Price of each book is $1.00 postpaid, or the two mailed to one address for $1.50, express paid.

THE COMPLETE LETTER WRITER

Being the only Comprehensive and Practical Guide and Assistant to Letter Writing Published.

Edited by Charles Walter Brown, A. M.

There are few books that contain such a fund of valuable information on the everyday affairs of life. In addition to every conceivable form of business and social correspondence, there are letters of Condolence, Introduction, Congratulation, Felicitation, Advice and Favor; Letters accompanying presents; Notes on Love, Courtship and Marriage; Forms of Wedding Anniversaries, Socials, Parties, Notes, Wills, Deeds, Mortgages, Tables, Abbreviations, Classical Terms, Common Errors, Selections for Autograph Albums; Information concerning Rates on Foreign and Domestic Postage, together with a dictionary of nearly 10,000 Synonyms and other valuable information which space will not admit of mention.

Paper Covers, 25c. Cloth, 50c. Cloth, 320 Pages, Price $1.00

For sale by all book and newsdealers, or sent to any address in the U.S., Canada or Mexico, postage prepaid on receipt of price in currency, money order or stamps.

M. A. DONOHUE & CO. 407-429 Dearborn St. CHICAGO

THE END