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her unscrupulous Spanish-Cuban lover and comes to know more intimately the simple, splendid characteristics of her own countrymen.

As an exception to the faithlessness of her lover, and the traitorous actions of others with whom she comes in contact, stands out the unconquerable spirit of Father Felix, who aids her in her work. A man who at all times stands for justice and righteousness even though he must expose and bring to punishment the hypocrites of his own flock.

From the Richard G. Badger Gorham Press, Boston, $2.00.

In a booklet of about 100 pages, William Henry Smyth gives a very forcible and scientific outline of the different evils in our present social, industrial and economical structures. The new form of government advocates, and which he names "Technocracy," is based on the organization of a national board, unifying and advisory, which would formulate and suggest methods and means for "sane living and accomplish the pre-determined purpose of the nation." Mr. Smyth's criticisms of our present system are given in a very concise form, at times humorous. The book contains much food for thought and should interest those who have the betterment of our social system at heart.

Zona Gale's prize play, "Miss Lulu Bett," based on her novel of the same name, is being published by D. Appleton and Company. This is the winner of the $1,000 Pulitzer Prize of Columbia University for the best American play of the year.

An interesting glimpse of Walt Whitman in the embryo stage of genius is given by Prof. Emory Holloway in his "Uncollected Poetry and Prose of Walt Whitman," to be published this fall by Doubleday, Page & Co.

The account of the young dreamer is given at the time he was working on the Long Island Democrat and living with the family of his employer, the Brentons.

"Mrs. Brenton always emphasized, when speaking of Whitman, that he was inordinately indolent and lazy and had a very pronounced disinclination to work! During some of the time he was in the household the apple trees in the garden were in bloom. When Whitman would come from the printing office and finish the mid-day dinner he would go out into the garden, lie on his back under the apple tree and forget everything about going back to work as he gazed up at the blossoms and the sky.

Frequently at such times Mr. Brenton would wait for him at the office for an hour or two and then send the 'printer's devil' up to the house to see what had become of him. He would invariably be found still lying on his back on the grass looking into the tree, entirely oblivious of the fact that he was expected to be at work. When spoken to he would get up reluctantly and go slowly back to the shop. At the end of such a day Mr. Brenton would come home and say, 'Walt has been of very little help to me today. I wonder what I can do to make him realize that he must work for a living?' and Mrs. Brenton would remark, 'I don't see why he doesn't catch his death of cold lying there on the ground under that apple tree!'"

And, lying there under the apple trees, in seeming indolence what great thoughts were being slowly matured in that prolific brain?

Of him I quote D. H. Lawrence who gives a remarkable analysis of Walt Whitman in the New York Call:

"Whitman is the greatest of the Americans, one of the greatest poets of the world. He has gone farther, in actual living expression, than any man, it seems to me. Dostoevsky has burrowed underground into the decomposing psyche. But Whitman has gone forward in life-knowledge. It is he who surmounts the grand climacteric of our civilization. He really arrives at that stage of infinity which seers sought. By subjecting the deepest centers of the lower self he attains the maximum consciousness in the higher self: a degree of extensive consciousness greater than any man in the modern world.”

"To Let," John Galsworthy, is the last of his series of novels entitled "The Forsyte Saga,' being a lengthy account of the family of Forsyte, which has been deeply interesting to those who have followed out the several stories. -Chas. Schibner's Sons, New York, $2.00.

Mr. James Hanson, whose story, "Behind the Devil Screen," appears in next issue, is preparing some interesting writings of the South Seas, to which class of fiction and travel he intends devoting most of his time.

Having the advantage of an intimate knowledge of the islanders, his stories are refreshingly told and savor more of the observer from the wings rather than front row critic who has not fully imbued the atmosphere of which he wishes to write.

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went down and found a place on the gravel, about fifteen or twenty feet away, and scooped out a shallow hole with my hand to be sure that it was dry. I got the fire going easily, for a long, rainless season had left leaf and stem and rubbish as dry as tinder. As it flared up, my father raised the gun to his shoulder, took careful aim and fired.

The cat, with a howl, was in the air before the smoke lifted, and she drove down on me as a hawk comes down on a duck with a broken wing. I had half risen after blowing the fire, and she landed squarely on my back. The lance-like claws struck through my thick coat and into the flesh of my shoulders; I heard father yell something as I went down on my face.

With a howl of rage old Towser launched his huge body into the air; true as an arrow to the mark, he struck the maddened cat sidewise, tearing out the deep-set claws from my shoulders. The animal turned with a snarl to face him, but he had her throat in his huge jaws before she was ready, and he held on like a vise.

I backed out and sidewise, like a fiddler crab, and calling to father that I was all right, I crawled under the overhanging bank. I was trapped. I couldn't go down the bank, and the only way out was over those growling, snarling beasts, so I lay there and watched the struggle with much the same interest that a mouse takes in the cat that is about to eat him. I knew only too well what would be my fate if the cat got the best of the big dog. I shut

my eyes.

When I looked again, my father stood beside the body of the cat, with the smoking gun in his hand, and old Towser lay on the other side of him. The panther lay on her back with her. head flat on the ground and her dripping claws sheathed. Father thought that she was dead. but to make sure of it he kicked her. She jerked her head up with a convulsive snarl and fastened teeth and claws into father's knee.

Father yelled with pain and surprise, and at that very instant Possy, who had been buzzing around like an angry bee, suddenly flew at the cat, fastened his sharp teeth into her leg and pulled and hauled with all his might. She let go of father, swung her leg backward, ripped Possy from shoulder to tail, and sent him rolling

over and over toward me. The panther was dead for good, now. Possy's attack had saved father from being slashed, just as the big dog had saved me.

I crawled out and turned to where old Towser lay. Possy was licking the blood off his friend's face. As my hurts, though painful, were not serious, I had no thoughts for anything but the dogs. Father stood beside me and looked down at the faithful animals.

"Did she get you, father?" I asked.

"Yes; my leg, but it's on top and no big blood vessels there. That cat would have torn me into ribbons if-" He bent to examine the dogs. "Possy is worse off than Towser. I'll fetch wood for the fire and then I'll hobble down to Galt's; it's nearer. He'll hitch up and go for a doctor, and I'll have Hawkins pick up the dogs."

Hawlins was the veterinary. Possy had earned his keep.

CHET, OR A HOOSIER VILLAGE HALLOWE'EN

(Continued from Page 44)

The three deserters now begged that they might be allowed to rejoin the club, and, having Chet's hearty support, they were unanimously re-elected. Chet had been sorry for Jim from the first and was glad to have the matter thus happily ended.

With the additional help the remaining jobs were quickly despatched. Then the boys each "sneaked" home and to their beds in time for a few hours of sleep before breakfast. For they dare not sleep late-that would "let the cat out of the bag!'

Next morning the town was all in a buzz of excitement! Many little kindly services had been done throughout the village during the night and general smiles and wonder had taken the places of the frowns of other years!

All the while the boys were enjoying a thrill of pleasure which they themselves scarcely understood! But when questioned, each and every boy pleaded innocence!

Meanwhile "Brother Brown" was slyly whispering to trusty ones here and there, with the result that just before supper time the whole gang was "arrested" by the constable and, without a word of explanation, placed in the village "lockup!" An hour later they were marched to the Town Hall, which was also the Justice's Court, for "trial." But, wonders of wonders, on entering the hall they were amazed (Continued on Page 72)

A TWILIGHT ROMANCE
(Continued from Page 12)

the bright sunshine was turning some things it touched to gold and some to silver. Some flowers were taking on a deeper crimson and some a brighter blue.

And, just to prolong the blessed freedom, they walked on to the sea, which was sparkling and rippling and showing gleams of blue underneath the silver. And when the sun again retired for the night out beyond the cliffs and the Golden Gate, saturated with the clean air, the sunshine and the scent of spring blossoms, they turned their steps toward the cottage which was to be their shelter, their haven, their escape from uncongenial surroundings for all the days which were to be vouchsafed them now, when their faltering steps had so nearly reached the threshold of the world beyond.

And there they are learning to know that the soft golden glow of the sunset can be as beautiful as the rosy gleam of the dawn.

TAKA

(Continued from Page 19)

know I'm not much of a ladies' man. I don't know much besides business, but I'll give you my protection whenever you leave."

The thought of Taka pursuing her the remainder of her days-that sinister yellow countenance always near like a dark shadow-filled her with terror, and with the calmness indicative of the first stage of hysteria, she replied: "Before I'll have that yellow dog follow me about all my life, I'll-I'll-I'll kill him."

Robinson, with a sort of mechanical tolerance, turned and left her without replying, and as soon as she heard the door to his room close, she stepped out into the hall. As she had anticipated, Taka was there. Caged, trapped, yet still hunted, she was in a turmoil, and the second wild idea she had had within less than a week presented itself. She must get rid of this man, regardless of Robinson's displeasure. She must have one more chance.

"Taka, how much would you need to return to Japan?"

"Thank you, but I don't want to go back to Japan." He was politely insolent.

"I believe you mentioned missing it the other day, and," she became very frank, "one or the other of us is going to have to get out of here." He smiled very slightly. "Let's step into your room and talk it over," he suggested.

She stepped back into her sitting room and (Continued on Page 74)

SONS OF THE MAESTRA
(Continued from Page 23)

"Oh," the two men expostulated, "with this grand store full of goods the Maestra is rich!" The Maestra hauled up the iron bar for placing and opened the door.

"You must help me to keep it full for my good sons," she said, and when the two had gone laughing away down the road she put the bar across the door and went back to her wash

board and her song. But she had seen the Company join the men from out the shadow of the store wall.

The Company had thought it over. He was convinced that Santa Cruz had read the description, and when he saw him go into the store of the Maestra with Mateo. he knew that the reward would have to be divided with some So when he joined the men in the road he told them at once about the warrants and very frankly said that he had not posted them. fearing that the Cholo was still about camp and could read.

one.

"I had another reason," he said, walking between the two men, an unwonted hand of friendship on each arm. "I want to see that reward go where it belongs. The store woman knows more of this Cholo than any one; she has his gold and she knew where it was from. You see, she has a kind of cleverness; she knows where he has gone, more than likely."

"Ah-i, the Maestra has the cleverness! She taught me to read," said Cruz.

"Well, yes," said the Company, "now we must find out all we can from her without her knowing of the reward or, of course, she won't talk. She's got a good business there much better than I have-and does not need the money, and here are you poor fellows who work hard for every cent you pan out. I'm willing to put you on to this—glad to help you all I can—we are all men together. We've got to find out what she knows and get ahead of her; she's crafty, you know. And we can't just go after him hit or miss; he's desperate, you can bet on that, and keen on the shoot. We'll have to trail him carefully. I won't post those warrants for a few days; vou see, that's a good trick of mine. I'll use all my skill now to get on his trail and we must all watch out for every clue. And I'll find out what that woman knows."

The two Mexicans readily promised secrecy and care, and went away sworn to help the Company outwit the Maestra and bring the Cholo to istice. for which they were each to receive $50 and the Company to keep $400 for

his skill. They went up the road toward the flats without a word between them, but when they were in the arroyo Cruz said, sullenly:

"The dog would cheat the Maestra of the fruit of her wisdom!"

"He is a coyote!" said Mateo. "You are sure the Maestra knows where the Cholo is?"

"She knows all one may know," Cruz answered, "and I remember that she carried my family through the winter of rains and I shall not let this dog of a Company cheat her. Bah, the white man!"

"Ah-i," said Mateo, "when my first wife died with the child the Maestra took the babe to her full breast, and she a white woman! not let him cheat her, no!"

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"Ah-i," Cruz responded, "now the Cholo may come again to the camp; we will wait some

may

days and see. It be that we can take him alone and keep all the reward and cheat nobody. One $50 he would give us each. He is a dog! If the Cholo does not come we tell all to the Maestra and she will make a wise bargain with us-hey, Mateo?"

So for four or five days they laid by from work, one to watch the camp while the other searched canyons and arroyos on both sides the river. But when there came no breath or sign of the Cholo the two Mexicans went down to the store of the Maestra and told her of the perfidy of the Company, faithfully omitting their own contemplated effort. The Maestra's face was troubled.

"Yes, the Company has questioned me," she said thoughtfully.

"The dog! And what did the Maestra tell him?" cried Cruz.

"I told him the same that I did you and Mateo, Cruz, when you asked me the same questions," the Maestra answered. Then she turned without a look at their hanging heads and went into the next room, carefully fastening the door as she went and came. When she was behind the counter again the men had recovered from their confusion and even laughed a bit foolishly, and the Maestra laughed, too.

"But now the Maestra is sure she can trust us?" said Santa Cruz, putting it all by with great unconcern.

"Yes, I can always trust you when some one else is against me." She smiled at them whimsically.

"Sure, Maestra!" they exclaimed. "We would not let any one harm you; the Maestra knows that. And in this matter we go where you bid us, or we stay within call. The Maestra is alone here with her little children and the Cholo may come at any moment."

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BEECHAM'S

"I sent my children to Pot Holes three days ago. Apache Charley and his squaw took them down." Just then a peevish voice from the next room called the Maestra away again, and when she came back the Company was lounging through from the front. The Maestra looked at him with the trouble clearing from her face.

"We were just speaking of the Cholo and his Los Trigos gold," she said, and the Mexicans caught their breath on the word.

"It was Los Trigos gold, then?" asked the Company.

"Oh, yes; it was Los Trigos gold. There are no gold-beds there and all gold from Los Trigos shows that it has traveled far; you can tell by the markings and the color is rare."

"Have you got it yet?" asked the Company, clasping his fingers behind him to keep them from twitching.

"Yes," she said, "I will show it to these men; they have not seen it and it is unlike any gold about here." She went to the safe and the Mexicans looked away from the Company and the Company looked at the floor. He wonwered why this woman was talking so freely over what she had seemed so dull only a few days before.

The Maestra took the largest nugget from the bottle and help it up. "It is shaped like the river beaver," she said, and the men drew in their breath and then turned and spit upon the floor.

"Seen him lately?" asked the Company. The Mexicans moved nearer.

"Who, the Cholo?" asked the Maestra, she was putting the gold away in its bottle. "Yes, the Cholo?"

"He was here-why, yesterday it was." "Hell! You let him go?" cried the Company. "Let him go?" said the Maestra with a steady look at him; "did you want to see him?"

It was then the Company remembered about the unplacarded warrants and began to stammer, while the Mexicans sent up a hurried prayer of praise that the Maestra had not betrayed them.

The Company explained rather haltingly about the bills and why he had not posted them at least he gave one reason.

"That was five days ago; you might have told me when you were questioning me the other day. I have seen him several times since. Of course, you may get him yet," she added with a nod. The Mexicans moved closer to her. and both were breathing heavily.

"Where did he go?" asked the Company,

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