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LURED BY A PHANTOM SEA.

are headed for home, so they'll tear along till they drop. It's too hot and too soon to start this sort of travel. We can't pass Avalo Springs to-night, anyway; there's nowhere to stop for forty miles."

About sundown they rode into the corral at the little oasis ranch-a spot of green watered by a single splendid spring. At daybreak they were off, armed with two flasks of water and a generous lunch put up by the hospitable ranchman's wife-she would take no pay for the accommodation. forty miles to Belmont Ranch was the hardest part of the journey: there was no water, and at the end lay sixteen miles of yielding sand.

The

In the cool of the morning the ponies swept along, pounding out mile after mile under willing, unshod hoofs; but at nine o'clock, when they reached the first of the sand, the sun was blistering, so the boys drew them to a steady amble. Ahead, unbroken by tree or cabin, lay the real desert. The white. sheen of the glittering expanse wavered rhythmically, not unlike the constant swelling of the sea.

They were covering the fourth mile when both boys suddenly reined in and turned to gaze at a wagon track that came at almost a right angle from the north.

"That's odd," puzzled Mark; "there isn't a ranch this side of Kimball in that direction. Where on earth could that wagon have been?"

"Probably some tenderfoot left the road back a ways and tried to miss the sand," laughed Bob, after debating over a number of unsatisfactory explanations. "Bet he learned something."

"Now look at that!" A few rods beyond, Bob pointed to where the wagon had pulled out of the road, and evidently stopped for the night; the team had been tethered near by, but there was no scattered hay to indicate that they had been fed-only a beaten circle at the end of each rope. "The witless chump has camped here-no water, no feed; both farther away the longer they stopped. I'll bet he

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learned another lesson before they got to Belmont's."

"He was lost," commented Mark, more charitably. "Missed the road miles back, maybe, and wandered till he found it again. It seemed so much like home he just camped right where he was-hay and water the least of his troubles. Probably travels after night to miss the heat."

Five miles farther on, the tracks again left the road on a tangent to the south, leaving uncertain, meandering grooves stretching into the distance.

"They were hunting for the lakepoor fools!" said Mark, pointing to the silver expanse that beckoned alluringly to thirsty travelers. It's queer

"The tracks are green. we can't see where they went," said Bob, peering into the treacherous mirage. "They're out there somewherestill hunting, likely. Say-look, Mark

isn't that the outfit-the black speck off to the side? Yes, by George, it is: it's moving. You can see the covered wagon, too, if you look close. Locoed!" he finished in disgust. "Who's fool enough to chase the mirage?"

"I'll wager a mirage will never fool them again. They'll learn to stick to the trail," laughed Mark as they rode along.

They rode in silence for nearly a mile. Somehow, neither boy felt inclined to speak; instead they gazed curiously out into the shimmering white, dotted only by the motionless spot of black. They glanced at each other covertly till finally their eyes met; there was no smile on either face. Both knew what the desert meant.

"Oh, I know what you're thinking of," cried Bob, as if in self-accusation. "It's the wobbly team that made that wobbly track; and wobbly track; and how somebody must have been suffering to leave the trail to strike off there for that deathjoke; and you're thinking, too, that maybe a woman or some little shavers are in that wagon. I've thought of it all. But look here, Mark, we can't do them any good. There isn't a pint of water between us-just enough to tantalize. All we could do would be tr

tell them something they probably found out long ago."

"Hard to tell what they have found out," argued Mark. "They've likely got the idea a lake is farther than it seems, like mountains, so they are still going. We could start them back." "They've stopped-they know where they're at," replied Bob. "There isn't a bit of use to go. You're sorry for 'em; I'm sorry, too. So it's just curiosity that's dragging at us. Now, there's only one way to help themthe sensible way: we'll go on to Belmont's and tell the boys there. In three hours they will have a barrel of water out there. What can we do just tell 'em we're sorry? Come on, Mark," he urged. "We've got some hard miles before us yet-and let's not forget we are due in that half-mile pony race at ten o'clock to-morrow morning."

Mark was thinking hard. He was as keen as Bob to reach home without delay. He felt that Bob, too, was as anxious about the emigrants as was he. It seemed best to go on and send back help, but somehow Mark could not satisfy himself that it was right, after all. He could not but feel that he and Bob were evading a duty, although it was evident that Bob believed in his own plan.

"Bob," he began a moment later, "I don't feel right about this. It's our business to go over to that wagon. Let's start."

"I don't feel right about it, either, Mark. I wish we had a barrel of water along. Then it would be worth while riding over. But hurry up. We haven't any time to waste, either for them or ourselves." He urged his pony ahead. Bob was honest with himself in questioning the utility of a trip back to see what, no doubt, they would be powerless to avert. Vaguely he had reasoned the emigrants would finally extricate themselves from their danger, though a word to the Belmont boys would bring speedy help.

Mark saw further ahead: perhaps a few drops of water might serve now to renew a sinking hope. A barrel, in an hour, might prove too late.

"Hold on, Bob," he called. "Listen. We've simply got to go back to those people: it's not a square deal for us to run away like this. Let's put ourselves in their place-watching two men ride past without a pleasant look. It would hurt, wouldn't it? We don't know how long they've been suffering for water. Our pint may save a life now, where in three hours ten barrels would do no good."

Bob turned and rode slowly back to his cousin. Mark's idea made things. look different. "Maybe we ought, after all," he conceded.

"I've been for a mile and a half trying to make up my mind that a few hours' delay for us is of less importance than the people out there in that wagon. It's the races and roping and prizes we're thinking of; things might look different out there. If anything should happen because we didn't try to help I'm afraid there'd be dreams that couldn't be forgotten."

"I believe you're right," admitted Bob slowly. "I wish we'd gone sooner."

Presently the two ponies were plowing briskly through the winnowed surface, leaping the occasional tufts of soap-weed, sagebrush and the omnipresent cactus. Off to the south, and indeed on every side, glimmered the dancing surface of an inland sea whose illusive billows rolled tantalizingly into the distance.

The day was still, breathless except for tiny whirlwinds that bobbed lightly along the glistening sand, twisting their thin, yellow spirals up into the white-hot heavens.

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LURED BY A PHANTOM SEA.

"If He thinks best He will, my darling."

With eyes averted from each other, Mark and Bob rode to the front of the wagon. The team, gaunt and holloweyed, stood dejectedly in their tracks, feet braced out against a weakness that was final: they had come to the end of their journey.

"Hello, folks!" challenged Mark, for there was no one on the driver's seat.

A frightened cry from within, then a sudden scrambling brought two faces to the arch-a woman and a little girl of eight.

"Thank God! Thank God!" cried the mother, the light of hope flashing into eyes that were weary.

"Oh, mamma, mamma!" burst out the child, her wan, tear-stained face breaking into a smile of gladness, "have they brought us a drink?”

"We haven't much left," deplored Mark, fumbling in his saddle roll for the flask. "There's just enough to wet your lips. Alone-just you two?" he demanded.

Pain came into the mother's facea face refined, intelligent, but seamed with lines of patient sacrifice. She nodded to the wagon within. "He's there," she answered brokenly. "It's his lungs the reason we're traveling. He was getting stronger till-till-we used the last of our water two days ago. He's unconscious now. We've been squeezing cactus, but it made him sick. And the horses-oh, can't you help us, boys? We've been lost out here for five days with no hay and only a twenty gallon keg of water. The poor animals can go no farther and I'd given up."

"We're here to help," said Bob, dismounting to hide his own distress.

Mark found his flask and passed it up to the waiting woman. She seized it eagerly, turning back into the wagon. "Oh, now, poor papa can have drink," cried the little girl, she, too, forgetful of her own suffering.

a

The boys stared at the emaciated horses for a moment. It was plain that they could never move the wagon. "They're all in," said Bob, shortly;

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then, as if by tacit agreement, both fell to unhitching. In a trice the weakened team had been led aside, and the ponies put in their place, saddles thrown into the wagon.

"Ready inside?" called Mark, mounting the seat with the reins.

The woman again appeared. "But our team, surely" she cried, with a frightened glance at the horses standing in pitiful dejection just where the boys had led them.

"Too weak to travel," said Mark. "They must stay till we can get back with feed and water."

A moment later the sturdy little bronchos pulled the wagon from its rut and headed briskly toward Belmont's Ranch, eight miles away.

"We'll make camp in about two hours and a half, and either come or send some one with a buckboard full of hay and a keg of water. Your team will brace up in no time, and get in tonight in good shape," explained Bob, swinging up into the seat with Mark. "Avalo Springs ?" queried the wo

man.

"Goodness, no! Avalo is nearly forty miles behind us. Which way are you really headed-east or west?" demanded Mark, uneasily.

"West. We lost the road our first night out of Sterling-we drove nights to save the horses. Since then we've driven, driven, driven for lakes of water we never could reach. We knew there was no water, but somehow-we hoped we might be mistaken."

"It's surely awful, when you don't know," ventured Mark, with boyish sympathy; then they lapsed into silence, for the little girl, eased of the keenness of her thirst, had crawled into her mother's lap and was asleep.

Three hours brought them to the Belmont ranch where, with tenderness, the boys resigned their charges to the care of the two women there.

It was not yet dusk when they drove once more into the corral leading the gaunt horses of the emigrants. A little water and a few mouthfuls of grain had restored a portion of their ebbing strength..

"Well, Mark," laughed Bob, on the way to the house for supper, "we've ut in a busy afternoon, and we're still hirty-five miles from home. Looks ke we'll miss the first pony-race. I don't know as I care, though; we've one a good job."

"We won't miss the pony-race," relied Mark. "We'll be pounding the trail at midnight again. Sun-up will jee us at home, ready for breakfast."

After supper they went in to see ow the man had recovered, and to say good-bye, for none of the rescued ad appeared at the table. The sick man had recovered wonderfully, and as sitting in a chair. He rose weakly to greet the boys.

"Don't get up; don't get up," exCained Mark, considerately. "We Just want to say good-bye, and caution ou to let your team rest for several days. We go on at midnight."

The man advanced, nevertheless, ith outstretched hand, his wife and le girl at his elbow. There were rs in the eyes of the two, and a shy, teful smile on the face of the child. "Why, you are just boys!" exlaimed the man in surprise. "Anyay, you have done for us to-day like men. I-I-I cannot find the words to Thank you." He clasped each hand or a moment in both of his, then sat down, his strength exhausted.

Then the mother thanked them tearally, censuring herself that she had een so ungrateful in the afternoon. The little girl edged up to the blushing oys and seized a hand of each shyly. "I like you both," she said simply, ith shining eyes; then fled to her ..other.

"Well, I suppose you'll be coming on through Athol Hill in a few days," began Mark, edging toward the door. "If you do, you're welcome to stop a while at the Bar L Ranch-we both live there."

"Athol Hill!" exclaimed the woman. "Why, that's just where we are going first. Are we near there? I thought Athol Hill was in Wyoming." "It is," replied Bob, "but it's only thirty-five miles from here. Do you know some people there?"

"I had a brother and a sister near there a few years ago," said the man. "Perhaps they are there still and you know them: Jim Eaton and Nancy Marvin? Jim and Mr. Marvin were partners at one time."

Mark and Bob flashed a sudden look at each other—a glance like that coming with the knowledge of danger long past. Their first thought went back to that forlorn "schooner" in search of a phantom sea in the' desert-and how near they had "passed by on the other side."

"And mamma says I've got two cousins I've never seen-Mark and Robert," cried the little girl gleefully.

Instantly the boys recovered from their momentary embarrassment, and they stepped forward into the room again.

Mark laughed and pushed Bob ahead of him. "Well, here's your cousin Bob, and I'm Mark. So you're Aunt Mary and Uncle Dick-and little Cousin Ruth!" There was a rush and mutual exclamations of surprise and pleasure.

And the boys forgot the fair at Athol Hill.

A Spurned Gift

By Elliott Flower

T

HERE may or may not be a
moral in this. I do
I do not
know. Anyhow, here is the
story:

Emulating Andrew Carnegie, Mr. Cyrus Wilson made preparations to die poor-at least, reasonably poor. Again emulating Carnegie, he turned his attention to libraries. Still emulating Carnegie, he made his gifts conditional.

Grantford, which Mr. Carnegie had inadvertently overlooked, was the first town upon Mr. Wilson's list. To Grantford, Mr. Wilson offered a $25,000 library building, provided a suitable site was furnished and proper provision made for the maintenance of the library. And here Mr. Wilson, having served his purpose, passes out of the story.

Grantford wanted the building, but the conditions proved to be rather burdensome. Grantford's public library was then located in two gloomy rooms in the back of the City Hall, and, at best, it was little more than an apology for a library. To meet the terms of the gift it would be necessary, in addition to providing a site, to expend a considerable sum for new books and to guarantee a sufficient sum annually to cover running expenses and additional book purchases. The officials of Grantford decided, after protracted discussion, that the city could provide the books and the money for running expenses, but they could not see their way clear to the purchase of a site.

It followed, therefore, that there was a loud call for some public-spirited citizen to step forward and donate the site, but, instead of doing that,

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The two local papers took the ma ter up, and that is how Wesley Ta happened to learn of it. Wesley purloined a paper from the office of the third-rate hotel where he live and had taken it to his shabby little room on the top floor. He did this regularly, much to the annoyance of the proprietor, the clerk and the other. guests, but the fact that he owned the hotel, the "proprietor" being merely lessee, had a tendency to discoura criticism or complaint.

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In his room, having divested him of coat and boots as a measure of cofort, Wesley read all about the libr problem. Then he read it all o again, a great purpose formulating his mind.

"I'll give 'em a site," he decided of last.

Having reached this decision, first of its kind in his experience, discovered that it gave him much sonal gratification. There was a g of conscious virtue that was quite : to him.

"I got plenty," he reflected. time I done something for the to

As a matter of fact, he had had a hazy idea of "doing somethi for the town, but it never before taken definite shape.

"Besides," he added, "this'll along other property that's near it. I can give the site where I got c property."

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