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VOL. IX.
NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1893.
NO. 5.
;Gfat Clearing Sale !i
' T ' i . .1. 1 - , ' 7." - - -- - - J
- f.
For the Next Sixty Days
The Bandit of (he Sierras
By THOMAS P. MOHTPOET.
ICopyright, 1892, by American Press Associa
tion. CHAPTER L
We will sell everything in our store, such as
Clothing, : : : :- ;
: : Furnishing Goods,
Boots and- Shoes, : :
: : : : Hats and Caps,
Trunks and Valises, :
1125
Per
Cent
Jseoii
nt
FOR CASH ONLY.
THE MODELCLOTHWG HOUSE
MAX-EINSTEIN, Prop.
C. F. IDDING-S,
LUMBER,
COAL, :
Order by telephone from Newton's Book Store.
SHOES
SHOES
All Sizes.
All Prices.
All Good Wearers.
All Solid
me
most imagine
The Cheap John stores have sold many shoddy goods
at prices which they claimed were cheap. We will sell
you good wearing, solid goods (same sizes) as cheap as
other stores sell their trash.
CHILDREN'S SHOOS:
Sizes 5 to 7, 85 cents.
Sizes 8 to 10, $1.00.
Sizes 11 to 2, $1.25.
" T n " i 1 Ail 1 i
All solid ana warranted, utners nave come to run
us put, some, tried to lie us out, but the only to get rid of
us is to buy us out. We have made them all sick at the
shoe business, and mind you now we will sell you good.
cheaper than before, for we are after the trade of wes
tern Nebraska, and if good, fine goods at low priceswill
do it, we will have all the shoe trade. Store and fixture.
for sale, but they can't run us out for no one can compeh
with our prices on good goods.
H. OTTETsT.
Dr. N. MoOABE, Prop. J- B. BUSH, Manager.
NORTH PLATTE PHARMACY,
Successor to J. Q. Tli acker.
2STOHTH PLATTE,
WE AIM TO HANDLE THE BEST GRADE OF GOODS,
SELL THEM AT REASONABLE PRIOESi AND WARRANT
EVERYTHING A3 REPRESENTED.
orders from the country and along the line of the Union
Pacific Railway Solicited.
W. J. BEOEKEE,
Merchant Tailor,
LARGE STOCK OF PIECE GOODS,
embracing all the new desigus, kept on hand and made to order.
PERFECT PIT GUARANTEED.
PRICES LOWER THNrEVER BEFORE
Spruce Street, between Fifth and Sixth.
"Did you say he was a road agent?'
A dilapidated, weather stained old
stagecoach, which had evidently seeu
many years of rugged service, bounde
along the rough track that wound up ;
deep, dark gorge in the Sierra Nevada
mountains. Now it swung to the right,
now to the left, now giving a great lurch
forward as the front wheels dropped in
to a rut, now creaking and groaning like
some live thing in terrible pain, and
ever and anon tipping tip on one side
and threatening to turn over and rol
down some steep embankment.
There .were four passengers in the
coach, two of them men of about the
middle age, whose appearance and garb
showed them to be frontiersmen, evi
dently miners, and a very old lady, who
was exceedingly small and nervous, but
patient and good natured withal, and
the other a little girl of perhaps seven
years, very beautiful and demure, and
seemingly very much afraid.
Therowas not ranch opportunity for
conversation, for the stage made enough
noise to- drown any ordinary tone or
voice, and then the passengers had al
they could do to keep themselves seated
Once or twice the men had attempted to
exchange a word or so, but scarcely had
they begun to speak when the stage gave
a sudden lurch and cut their remarks
short.
The old iady, although she was thin
and frail and nervous, bore all the rough
jolting -and bumping uncomplainingly,
and as often as the men turned their ej'es
toward her they saw a happy, satisfied
smile lighting up her wrinkled features,
Where could she have come from? they
wondered, and where could she be go
ing she and tho child? It was evident
that they did not belong there in that
rough new country; that thev were
strangers to the nigged habits and semi
civilized life of the western miners.
They were delicate, refined and well
dressed attributes that did not belong
to those who had been long in a mining
camp in the far west.
The two men scrutinized their fellow
passengers silently and intently tor a
long time, and once or twice something
like a sigh escaped them. Finally the
stage reached a stretch of comparatively
smooth road, where it was possible to
converse with tolerable' ease. The men
drew closer together, and one of them
said:
"Jack, the sight of that old lady and
child makes me sad; yet it does me good.
It takes ray thoughts right back to the
old home in the east, and brings up re
membrances of tho friends I have not
seen for so long."
"Just what I was thinking, Joe," the
other replied. "The old lady reminds
of mother, and somehow I can al-
that it is she. Poor old
mother; it's been a long time since 1
havo seen her, and 1 have not thought
of her very often the last two or three
years; but, Joe, 1 love her j-et above
everything on earth. I haven't written
to her for two years, and I know how
.anxiously sho has watched the mails,
and how disappointed she has been, and
how she has wept and suffered. The
sight of this old lady has brought it all
back to me, and tomorrow I am going
to write a good, long letter. The dear
old soul will be so pleased."
The two men were silent for some
time, each looking straight out before
him, their lips slightly tremulous,
while a moisture gathered in their
eyes. They were rough, sun bronzed
men with calloused hearts, but the re
membrance of the old homes and the
old mothers they had left there touched
them and awoke in them the better part
of their natures.
After awhile one of the men sud
denly straightened himself up as though
he had just awakened out of a reverie,
and turning to the other said:
"Was there anything new up at the
Flat when you left this morning?'
"No," tho other answered, recalling
his wandering thoughts. "Nothing of
much importance. They had a couple
of road agents under arrest, and were
going to try them this afternoon and
hang them tonight."
"So? You don't know who the two
are?"
"Nor they brought them in just as I
was leaving. They were Mexicans,
though, I think."
"Then Mart Thompson is not one of
them?" "
"No;more's the pity. But they'll get
him"
The old lady had suddenly' sprung to
her feet, and now stood before the
miners holding to a strap for1 support.
her face pale and cold, her eyes fixed in
a searching gaze on the two men, her
lips twitching and her whole frame
wrought up to the highest pitch of
nervous tension.
"What was it you said about Mart
Thompson?" she cried in an eager yet
stifled voice. "Did you say he was a
road agent and that he was to be arrest
ed and hung? Tell me, did you Bay
that?"
The men were startled by the old
lady's voice and manner, and for an in-
etant.they gazed at her in stupid amaze-I
ment. She repeated her question with
more eagerness, more vehemence, and
one of the men, recovering from his sur
prise, replied:
"Perhaps you misunderstood me, lad',
or perhaps l misspoke the name, i
should have said Mark Thompkins."
As the man spoke he secretly nudged
the other with his ana, and the other,
understanding, kept quiet. The smile
returned to the old lady's face and the
sat down satisfied. After a short pause
she said:
"The two names are so much alike
that it "is no wonder I misunderstood
you. "Yet I might have known that it
was not Mart Thompson. He would
never do anything wrong, even the least
little thing, and I was foolish to think,
you could have meant him."
The men exchanged a glance, and the
one who had spoken last spoke again.
"Do you know Mart Thompson?" ha
asked. - -
"Do I knw him?" she repeated.'while
a proud, happy smile wreathed her thin
features. "Aye, I raised him from a
baby and I kept him with me until he
was almost a man grown. He is my
grandson, and his mother and father
died when he was only a year old, so I
took him and raised him."
The good old lady, glad of an opportu
nity to speak of "her boy," continued in
her childish simplicity to narrate his
history. ,v
"When ""ne"was valinost""a man," she
said, "he went away from home, and
after .awhile he married. His wife was
not strong, and in a year or so she died,
leaving a child, this little girl here, and
I took her to raise, as I had taken him.
"Then he became restless, and when
so many were coming to California he
came too. That was five years ago. I
got a few letters from him the first year,
but after that he quit writing. 1 sup
pose he has been verytousy and hasn't
had time to write, and then he may
have forgotten about it. He was always
a little forgetful about such things, and
then he was a little wild.
"He wasn't eril disposed, though,"
she hastened to add, "and he never done
anything real bad. He was just a little
wild, like 'young men often are, you
know, -but he never meant any harm by
it. He was good and kind, only some
times he was a little thoughtless."
It was really pitiful to note how the
honest, simple old soul excused and
sought to wipe away the faults of "her
boy." Her tone was so apologetic, and
her manner bo childliko and innocent,
that a heart of stone must have been
touched by it. It was plain that she
saw "her boy's" faults and realized the
extent of them, else she would not have
taken such pains to excuse and shield
them, yet she did not admit to herself
that she saw and understood anything
of the kind. For his 6ake she denied
and disputed the evidence of her own
senses.
"For four years," she continued in her
simple way, "I have had no letter from
Mart, ancLsaone.day.-I.concluded to take
his child and go in search of him. You
see, 1 didn't know but he might be sick
or in trouble or something, and I felt as
though 1 ought to go and see.
"When we came to California and
went to the place where he was when
we heard from him last he was gone,
and nobody there knew anything about
him. 1 was a little discouraged, because
California is a large place and I didn't
know where to go in search of my boy.
didn't have much money and we
couldn't go very far, but I thought 1
could go as far as my money and
strength would permit.
But God helped me, and before my
little money was all gone he directed ine
to the post down there where the stage
started. I heard of Mart down therel
and they told me he was up in the moun
tains somewhere near the Poverty Flat
mines, so now 1 shall soon find him."
There was a short silence, after which
the old lady suddenly said:
I never thought to ask you, but I
expect maybe you two gentlemen live
at Poverty Flat. Isn't it so?'
Yes, ma'am," one of them replied
hesitatingly.
Then yuu know Mart?" she cried
with eagerness.
The two men exchanged a quick
glance, .moved a little in their seats and
appeared greatly embarrassed, but nei
ther of them spoke. The old lady
thought they had not heard her and she
repeated her question.
"Yes, ma'am," said one, seeing that
an answer must be given, vet speaking
with great reluctance; "I know Mart
Thompson, or, more correctly speaking.
I know of him.
"Do you?" the old lady cried, a smile
of happy anticipation lighting up her
features. "1 am so glad, because then
you can tell me about him. is he at
the mines now, do you think?'
"Why no, ma'am; I don't think he
is just now. You see," the man went
on hesitatingly, "he don't just stop at
the mines. He's out in the" mountains
most generally."
"Is he? What does he do out in the
ingifcinheropenhand. "There is not rare and dishes in the cabins, snowing
much in it now, fori have spent pretty that the -people were up, but there was
near all mv- mnnnv o-.in n one in the streets. Outside all was
w tw? oil Ti " 11 S"31" and deserted.
DOV. inat IS all I havo that vnn -wnnlil i , - - - . -
, jjjrt" Jack ana Joe were dressed and were
ht a.1i. i i i. , i. txt L ' sitting quietly discussing the events of
hard to please, and rather than hurt
anybody's feelings wo accept the com- I
monest kind of gifts. Have you no jew- J
elryold lady? No watch or anything
replied a little softly:
"1 am glad of that," said Thompson,
'and 1 have one request to make, or
hare1 rowtl r Tnigvmt tOo-rar"""
ever return to an honorable life. I
could reformj'but I could never get rid
rather one favor to ask of you that is, ' of the stain of the past. That is indel
like that?"
iioiuing due a little locket, she re
plied, "and I cannot give that up. You
13 A- A 1 j m . .
wouiu not taise mat trom me, tor it is
not mine. It belongs to my son, whom
I am going to find. He left it with mo
when he went away, and it has his pic
ture in it and a lock of his hair, and his
name is cut on the case.
"Ah, well, we'll just take it. His
name's on it, so if we happen to meet
your Iron well just hand it to him per
haps."
And the man broke into a coarse laugh.
at tne same time placing tne locket m
his pocket.
"Sis, I reckon you haven't much
wealth," lie said, turning to the little
girl. "If you've got anything just hand
it. over, and 1 won't search you."
Ills name's
mountains? Is he mining?"
The men exchanged another glance,
appeared very restless and exceedingly
disturbed, and remained silent. The old
ady waited a moment, then again said
in a little louder tone:
"What does Mart do in the moun
tains?"
"Why 1 you see," began the miner
in a reckless waj', but he got no further.
At that instant there was a firing of
pistols, and the old coach, giving a
urch, came to a halt. A moment later
the door was thrown open and a masked
face looked in.
"Now step out hero you folks inside,"
gruff, unnatural voice commanded,
"and we'll proceed to unload you of any
burdens you may happen to. have in the
shape of money or valuables. Here,
you," he continued to the miners, "you
needn't be fumbling for your shooters,
; for we've got you covered, and any
smartness on your part will only compel
us to waste a bullefc or two on you.
Now come out quietly and gentlemanly
and we'll not detain you a moment."
The pasisngers all left the coach and
rormed in line under the cover of a half
dozen pistols. Night was just coming
on, and it was scarcely dark, but the rob
bers were all masked, so that nothing of
their features showed, and when they
spoko they disguised their voices, so
that they were safe from recognition.
One Of the highwaymen went through
a search of the passengers, beginning
with the two men, from each of whom
he took a few dollars, a silver watch
and a pistol. When he came to tho old
lady he said:
"Now, then, ma'am, I'll trouble you
for any little change and trinkets that
you may happen to have about you."
"Here is my purse," she said, extend-
"Ah, well, we'll just take it.
on it."
The child shook her head, but did not
move.
"What?" the man continued. "You
have nothing at all for me? That's too
bad. You might give me a kiss at least.
for the sake of a little girl I have some
where back east."
The outlaw's voice softened just a lit
tle as he said that, but it was only for an
instant, and recovering his former tone,
half jocular, half brutal, he commanded
the passengers to re-enter the coach, then
ordered the driver to proceed.
It was riot far to the Flat, and the dis
tance-was soon covered. The two miners
talked but little, and the few words they
exchanged were spoken in low tones
and heard by no one save themselves.
The old' lady lamented the loss of her
locket, and all tho -way she was lost in
thought of it. She even forgot to renew
the conversation regarding "her boy,'
in wmcn sue nau oeen so interested a
little while before.
When tho stage stopped before the lit
tle hotel at Poverty Flat the miners bur
tied out and attempted to evade the old
lady. She saw them, however, and
called tebmjcs they were walking
a way. xney coiuu oniy turn uacK
though they did ft with the utmost re
luctance.
"You did not tell me where Mart is,"
she said, "nor what he is doing
"No, ma'am, I believe not," one of the
men answered.
The old lady waited a moment for tho
man to proceed, but as it became plain
that he was not going to do so she rc-
resumed, saying:
"Will you pieaso tell mo what yon
know about him. x ou see I am so aux
ions to find him, for I have not seen him
for five long years."
"Well, ma'am, I can't tell you much,'
.il - ?1 1. 11. A Y 1
tne miner saiu uaitingiy, as tuougn no
was on dangerous ground. To a close
observer it would have been apparent
that he wished to conceal something,
but the old lady saw nothing of that. "1
can't tell 3ou much more than 1 havo
told yon already," he said. "Mart
Thompson is somewhere in the moun
tains, but just where he is or what he is
doing right now I can't say." Then after
an awkward pause he went on: "If 1
was you I'd be easj' about it tonight. 1
know you must be tired. Just you stop
here and iest tonight, and I'll inquire
around about your son, and tomorrow
morning I'll come to tell you what 1
learn."
The old iady was loath to accept this
arrangement, but after a great deal of
talk she consented. The miners went
into the hotel, called the proprietor
aside and spoke a few words to him in a
low tone, now and then casting a glance
toward the old lady and the child. The
hotel proprietor nodded his head, and
the miners went away.
When they were outside of the hotel
the two men began to talk. One of them
said:
"Jack, what are we to do? That old
lady will give us no rest until we tell
her all we know about her sou, and who
is to do that? I can't tell tho innocent,
trusting old soul that the man she has
come all the way out here to find is a
highway robber. Can you?"
- "No, Joe, I can't. I'd rather be hung
than to do that."
"And me too. 1 believe it would kill
her. Jack. The innocent, unsuspecting
old soul i3 so trustful. She has the
greatest confidence in the onery scamp,
and she loves him. I don't know what
to do."
"I don't either. But, say, I believe
that the man who lifted our valuables
Jown the road there in Mart Thompson."
"I know it. It was him, and the sneak
robbed his own mother, or what was the
jame thing. The rascal deserves to be
aung to the nearest limb."
the evening before, and .trying to devise
I some plan by which they might extn-
icate themselves from the difficulty
which lay before them.
"Ill tell you what," said Jack, "1 wish
now I had not promised that old lady to
call at the hotel this morning. I don't
know what in the world I am going to
say to her when 1 do call."
T rtrtn'f L-nrtTty ln- fT.if if T wne mil
said Joe, "1 wouldn't call."
'I have half a mind not to, but still 1
dislike to lie that way. I half way lied
to her down there in the stage when I
changed Mart Thompson into Mark
Thompkins. Still I didn't just see how
I could do otherwise then. 1 think it
was better to stretch the truth a little
than to havo broken that innocent old
heart, don't you?"
"i es, it was, because as it is there
wasn't anybody hurt."
"No, that -was all right But about
the rest of it 1 don't know what to do."
Just then there was a slight noise at
the door, and as the two miners turned
to see what it meant a man lifted the
latch and came in. Jack and Joe sprang
to their feet and started back in alarm.
Was it really a man or was it an appari
tion that stood before them?
"Don't be alarmed," said the one who
had just entered. "You have nothing
to fear from me. I suppose you know
whom 1 am.'
'No," replied Jack, "not certainly.
And yet I thought"
"You thought I was Mart Thompson,
the other interrupted. "Isn't it so?"
"Yes, it is."
"Then you thought right, inat is
who I am."
The miners were a little recovered
from their astonishment by this time
and were able to think and speak con
nectedly. The one called Jack, always
the spokesman of the two, said:
'I believe that you speak the trutn
and that j'ou are really Mart Thompson,
'Of course I am. Do you think that
mine is such a proud, enviable name
that any one would caro to claim it who
was not entitled to it? Do you think the
character that name represents such
that any one would want to steal it? Do
you think any innocent man would care
to come into this camp and say his name
was Mart Thompson? Do j-ou think any
of those things likely?"
"No, I do not. But why do you come
here?. Don't you know that you are in
the greatest danger?"
"Yes, 1 supposed 1 was. I supposed
that to bo caught in this camp meant
death for me. It was my impression
that the miners here had declared my
life forfeited, and had pledged them
selves to take it on the first oportunity.
Am I right?"
"Yes, you are. Wo have long since
decided that your life was forfeited, and
we havo only waited the chanco to take
it."
"So I thought, and for that reason 1
am here."
"I do not understand," Jack said, look
ing at Thompson in blank amazement.
".Don t j-our Thompson replied qui
etly. -"What I say is plaiu and simple,
and it ought not to be hard to understand
it. You people here have said that you
would hang or shoot me if you ever had
a chance. I supposed that you had said
that, and for that reason 1 came to this
camp. I know that the men of this
place are people who keep their word
and who never abandon a purpose."
Jack, still astonished, shook his head,
bat remained silent. Mart Thompson's
words and actions were beyond his coin
prehensioif. He could not fathom the
man's meaning. He might have thought
that Thompson was feigning had he not
seen his faeo and noted now pale and
wan it was, and how sad and sunken
were his eyes. That face, those eyes, a
very picture of despair and dejection,
precluded all doubt of the man's
earnestness.
"Don't you understand mo yet?"
Thompson asked after a short pause.
"Then I will be plainer in my speech. I
have come here because 1 want you men
to take my life. I surrender myself into
your hands. Take me and do with me
as you pieaso, only so yon take my life."
"Why do you say such things?" Jack
asked.
"1 say what 1 do because I feel it, and
I feel it because of what happened yes
terday. You were in the stage yester
day evening when it was robbed?"
"Yes, we were there."
"So was 1. Here are your pistols, your
money and your watches. It was 1 who
took them and I restore them. But that
is nothing; look here at this. Here is
the locket I took from the old lady. Do
CHAPTER. II.
d?he old lady sought for information
regarding Mart Thompson from the
proprietor of the hotel, bnt he evaded
her questions and gave her no satisfac
tion; so at last she resigned herself to
wait till morning, and retired.
The mining camp had just begun to"
stir after a. night of slumber. There
was a rattling and clattering of f urni-
PRICE'S
fipafllBaking
USPowdeK
The only l'ure Cream of Tartar l'owder. No Ammonia; No Alum.
Used in Millions of Homes 40 Years the Standard.
m see what a cheap, simple, little thing
. Tl . I it 1. 1 ?i
ti is.- ic is iimiosu wortniess; yet it nas
had a terrible effect on me. It has
brought me to a sudden halt in my
career. It lias set me to thinking. It
has made me want to die.
'The trusting old soul I took that
from," ho continued, after a momentary
pause, "is my grandmother, and prac
tically any mother. Old and feeble as
she is, she left her homo in the east and
camo west in quest of me. She has
passed through months of suffering,
hardships and disappointments, all in
the hope of seeing me again. And atlast
her love conquers her weakness and
bears down every obstacle, and her pur
pose is accomplished. Sho finds me, but
how? She finds mo a highway robber.
I whom she has loved and nurtured, and
for whom she has sacrificed everything,
reward her love by stealing from her
that trinket which she valued equal to
her life because it was mine. She was
hunting her father, and she found him.
Yes, she found him. She found him a
highwayman, a robber, a thief."
Mart Thompson walked the floor for a
moment with his head hung down and
his hands clutched nervously. Sudden
ly he stopped in front of the two miners,
and with startling vehemence cried:
"Do you think I should want to live
after that? Do yon suppose I could find
any pleasure or satisfaction in living
when I know what a miserable wretch
I am? Never, never! That old lady
and that child by their simple faith and
innocent trust have stabbed me through
and through. They have cut my heart
deeper than any assassin might have cut
it with the sharpest steel. My God,
men, I wish 1 had the power to tell you
what I felt last night when I examined
that locket and realized what X had
done; but I can't do it. I can't find the
language."
Mart Thompson again paced the floor
for almost a minute; then growing
calmer he came and sat down near the
table..
"Do they know what 1 am?'' he asked.
No. thev have no suspicion," Jack
that they may never know. Will yon
grant it?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Now let the miners know
1 am here, and let them do their work.
I am ready."
With that Thompson folded his arms
and sat grimly silent. His face, a little
flushed now, still retained its drawn,
sunken look, and his eyes, though they
flashed with the fire of a certain sort of
defiance, were still hollow and. dark.
His whole appearance denoted keen suf
feringphysical as well as mental
Jack, without a word, went out and in
formed some of the leading men of the
Flat of Mart Thompson's presence in
the camp, and also of the conversation
that had taken place down at his and
Joe's cabin. Within a Quarter of an
hour a dozen men had gathered, and
again Thompson stated why he had
come in and surrendered. Those who
heard the story were touched by it, and
Btrongv rough menr as they were, there
was deep down in their hearts a feeling
of pity for the highwayman.
Ab Johnson was tho acknowledged
leader in the camp, and Iris companions
were anxious to hear him speak; so when
Thompson had finished, and a moment
had passed in silence, some one said:
"Ab, what is your idea in this case?1
Ab did not answer immediatelv, but
he shifted his weight from one foot to
the other and scratched his head thought
fully. At last ho spoke, though with
hesitation. He said:
"I hardly know what to say, men, for
this is a peculiar case. For the sake of
the old lady and the little girl I would
like for us to let Mart Thompson go. I
would liko to do it, too, on account of
his coming in and surrendering himself.
For these two reasons I wish we might
spare him, tor if we did he would lead
an honorable and honest life."
"1 believe he would," some one mur
mured, and Thompson quickly raised
his eyes to see who lfwas.
"I know he would," Ab went on. "He
would never have come here if he had
not experienced that change of heart."
There was an awkward silence, dur
ing which the miners shuffled about un
easily. Mart Thompson was the calmest
man in the room. Finally some ono
haltingly said:
"Well, if Ab is right, I believe 1 would
favor letting Thompson go on account
of the mother and child, you under
stand. It would about break their
hearts if we you know what I mean."
'Yes, wo understand," replied Ab.
"If robbery was the only charge against
the man," he continued, "I think we
could afford to let him go free. But
perhaps you didn't all hear about it.
Jim Main was shot and killed by the
bandits last night as he was coming up
from the post, and from what I have
been able to gather it seems that Thomp
son is the man who shot him.
"Is that a fact?' Jack asked
"It is. A man who was with Jim and
who escaped unhurt came in this morn
ing before daylight and told me."
somebody exclaimed.
Mart raised his head, fixed his eyes on
the speaker and moved his lips as if in
the act of saying something. But he
did not utter a word.
"What have you to say as to the
charge, Thompson?" Ab asked.
"Nothing," Thompson answered.
"Then we are forced to suppose it
true."
Thompson merely bowed his head.
"In that case, men," continued Ab,
there is no question as to what our
duty is. Wo might, for the sake of the
lady and tho child, spare this man's life,
even though he is a robber, but for the
sake of no one and nothing can we
spare his life when we know lrim to be
a murderer. He must hang."
Uiompson said nothing, and he did
not move, except to shrug his shoulders
slightly. Once or twice his lips moved
as if framing words, but no sound es
caped them. There was a whispering
among the miners, and then some one
went out and after awhilo returned with
a piece of new rope.
"Thompson,' said AB, "you under
stand what our decision is, I suppose?'
"xes, Thompson replied.
"Then have you anything to say be
fore wo proceed further?"'
"2s o, nothing except to ask that you
never let mother and my child know."
"They shall never know. I pledge you
my word of honor for that."
"Very well. Then that is all." Then
after a short pause he continued: "I
would like to see them once more, and
if I could only kiss them I would die
happier, but to spare them I must deny
myself that pleasure. Go on with your
work. I am ready."
They prepared to take him from the
room, but as they advanced to the door
the latch was lifted and a man staggered.
m. It was Jim Mam, white, pinched
and bloody, looking like a man risen
from the dead. He stopped on the thres
hold and in a voice scarcely more than a
whisper, yet imperious, cried:
"Stop, stop, 1 3ay, for God's sake. That
man must not be hung."
"Why, what does this mean?" Ab
asked.
"It means that he must not be hung,"
Jim Main repeated. "It was he that
saved my life. It was he who after I
had received one shot came before mo
and received the second one in his own
breast. Even now he bears a ghastly
wound and is suffering more than I."
"Is this true, Thompson?" Ab asked.
Thompson made no answer.
"It is true," Jim cried. "Look for
yourselves and you will find the wound
in his breast."
They did so, and sure enough the
wound was there. It was deep and
dangerous, but he had bandaged it him
self so as to check the flow of blood. As
it was, he was exceedingly weak, and it
was only by the exertion of his great
will power that he bore up.
"Why didn't you tell us about this?"
Ab inquired.
I did not think it worth while,"
Thompson replied.
"But it was worth while. It is enough
to save your life. Did you suppose we
would hang you after that?"
No. I thought likely if you knew
you would spare me through pity, but I
did not want any of that. I have for
feited my life and I am willing to let it
go."
ion forfeited it, but you have re
deemed it. We are not going to hurt
you, but instead are going to send for a
doctor. When your wound is dressed
we will send for your mother and child,
but they shall not know of the nast.
You will get well, and you will live a
long and honorable life."
No. not after what I have done. I
ibly fixed."
"No, I think not," said.Ab. "Idon't
know much about Scripture, and I'm
hardly fit for a preacher, but I remem
ber that somewhere in the Bible it says
that there is more rejoicing in heaven
over one sinner who returns, to the fold
than over ninetv-nine who never went
( astray. And for that matter I reckon
there's precious few of us who haven't
at some time in life gone astray, and the
most of us keep going astray. My soul,
Mart, how many people would there be
in the world now if all the big and little
sinners were killed off? I don't think
we'd be crowded with population any."
The doctor came and dressed Mart's
wound, and then the old lady came with
the child to see "her boy."" No one told
her that Mart had been a robber, and
the trusting, confiding old soul never
had a suspicion of the truth.
"You see," Ab said to her, "Mart was
up in the mountains last night and ono
of the robbers shot him."
"Yes, I know," she replied, "and.l
wouldn't be surprised if it was the man
who took my locket."
"Yes, ma'rn," said Jack unblushingly,
"it was, and your son took it back. Here
it is," and he stepped forward and laid
it in her outstretched hand.
"Oh, 1 am so glad," she cried in a sort
of ecstasy. "It was so brave and good
of Mart to take it for me."
"Mother, for God's sake, don't," Mart
said, as if her words hurt him through
and through.
"Very well, Mart," she replied, T11
say no more about it. You were always
so modest that you could not bear to
have your praises sung."
After many days Mart Thompson be
came a well man, and then he and his
old mother and his child left Poverty
Flat for the east. Back there at his old
home he began a new life, and in all the
country where he was known he was a
respected and even a loved citizen. He
was kind and generous, seeking no doubt
tc make up in good deeds for the evil of
his past
He was an honorable man and a
Christian, loved by the poor and lowly,
to whom he was kind, worshiped by
his old mother, who in the simple good
ness of her heart never suspected the
truth in regard to his past, and who
never dreamed what a wonderful influ
ence her visit to the west had, nor what
a great work of regeneration it accom
plished. For her sake and for his child's
sake Mart Thompson kept his sins and
crimes a secret from all save God, who
knew and f orcave
A Prophecy of Thackeray's.
So far as knighthood is to be regarded
as a mark of eminence in literature,
science or art, the result appears pretty
much the same as that which Thackeray
describes in one of his" ""Roundabout
Papers" as likely to have ensued if
George HI had instituted the Order of
Merit, which he once had in serious con
templation. That order was to have
been dedicated to Minerva, and Dr.
Johnson himself was to hvo been the
first president ongrand cross or grand?;
owl of the society. The mWnbers were
to be adorned with a star of sixteen
points and a yellow ribbons and all tho
recognized luminaries of the literary,
scientific and artistic worlds were to be
enrolled among them. But how, Thack
eray asksTwhen they had all of them.been
admitted, could the door be shut against
inferior claimants? How could you have
excluded Sir Alexis Sover, Sir Alessan
dro, Tamburini, Sir Agostino Velluti,
Sir Antonio Paganini (violinist), Sir
Sandy M'Goffog (piper to the most hon
orable the Maquis of Farintosh), Sir
Alcide Flicflac premier danseur of her
majesty's theater), Sir Harley Quin and
Sir Joseph Grimaldi (from Coyent Garden)?
"They," he adds, "have all the yellow
ribbon. They are all honorable, clever
and distinguished artists. Let us elbow
through the rooms, make a bow to the
lady of the house, give a nod to Sir
George Thrum, who is leading the or
chestra, and go in and get 'some cham
pagne and seltzer water from Sir Rich
ard, who is presiding at the buffet."
This was intended to be a caricature
when Thackeray wrote it. But it cer
tainly reads a great deal more like a
prophecy now. London World.
Accepted the Offer.
"One of the greatest performances I
ever heard of," said an actor, "wa3 that
of Ed Thorne. He had been playing on
the western circuit and had not been
making money very steadily with a
piece called, I think, 'The Missing Wit
ness. In one scene, where the hero is
posted on the wall of an inn as a mur
derer, he has to come on, read the bill
ana exclaim, 'Ten thousand dollars for
the missing witness to prove my inno
cence!' or something like that. The
piece had been going on for come time
in the old hand to mouth way, and
Thorne suddenly conceived the idea that
he would like to see it himself. So one
day at a matinee he went out into the
audience and saw his understudy do his
part.
When they came to this scene and the
inn was shoved on same inn that does for
Macbeth's castle and Juliet's chamber,
you know the hero for the afternoon
came in, took his cloak down from his
face long enough to say, 'Ten thousand
dollars for the missing witness,' when
Thorne calmly arose in the audience and
walked to the stage. 'Done,' said he.
'Here are the band parts, prompt copy,
lines, stage plans and everything. All
for ten thousand.' I presume the man
on the stage was pretty well broken up
about then." New York Sun.
Detectives of Tlllle SmitVa Xarderer. .
All newspaper readers will remember
the celebrated Tillie Smith murder in
New Jersey. Tillie Smith, a young serv
ant girl, was killed in defending herself
against some man whom the police gave
up all hope of discovering. James Creel
aian, of The World, and C. W. Tyler, of
The Sun, worked together as detectives
on the case. They convicted Titus, tho
janitor of the institution where Tillie
Smith lived. He was sentenced to be
hanged, but the sentence was afterward
commuted to imprisonment for life.
In addition to the good detective work
which these two brilliant reporters did
they -wrote such simple, touching,
straightforward accounts of the girl's
heroic defense and atrocious death that
the tearful public subscribed plenty of
money to erect a monument to Tillie
Smith's memory. This was probably
the first money ever put up in honor of
a murdered servant girl. It was cer
tainly a creditable monument to human
Bvmoathv. New York World.
4
