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HAPPY DAYS.
ton, for we wanted to get his deposition to
confront my uncle with, but the man had
taken fright, evidently, and he was not to
ld find no trace of him nor of
Mullins, except that he had come for the
whether they had taken a ship or left the
city by rail we could not learn and were
obliged to give up the search.
went to Mr. Weatherford’s, but,
although all the clerks except Richards
were at work and everything seemed to be
going on as usual, we could learn nothing of
my uncle’s movements,
One of the boys told us that he had gone
out, but no one knew where or when he
would return and we were as much in the
dark concerning him as we were in regard
to the captain.
Then Ned and I-went to the house where
I had lived and here I was recognized by
the housekeeper, who took me aside and
said that she thought her master had fled,
where she knew
“I heard him ta aiking to nen last
night, Mr. Arthur,” she said, “whi
thought he was all alone, and tho sae a 1
could not understand it all, I made out Sthat
he was in apouble of some kind and meant
himself in his study, and, etter a while, he
became quiet and I wen
asia have been there this “morning?” I
anys. e door was open, but he was
gone. He took all his papers, as far as I
could judge, for his desk and the safe were
open and I missed a valise from his closet.
His bed was not slept in and he must, have
gone away late at night or early this morn-
ing, for I heard no one go out.”
“And you did not know that I had come
home?’
“No, although I heard him saying some-
thing about somebody coming from the
grave to haunt him and that he would not
give up anything unless he was forced to
and that if the captain went back on-him
he would | el him.
“ have ‘any visitors?” I asked,
thinking that perhaps the skipper had been
orast veh, do you mean? No, only one
of the clerks from the office, Richards, I
think he called him. He brought some
papers, but did not stay late. The butler
let him in and saw him go out.
“And no one heard your master go out”
“They say they did not, sir, but I
my ets. pgoause the outer doors were
not left o
Ir called. ‘ror all the servants, questioned
them and finally picked out the butler as
the-man most likely to know something,
from a certain look on his face.
I questioned him privately and he ad-
mitted that he had let his master out at
three in the morning and had then closed
the door and locked it.
“Did he say anything about me?” I
asked, the man being a stranger to me,
having come to the house during my ab-
nee,
“No, sir, not by name he didn’ a ut he
said that he must go and he ssed I
could stay if I behaved myself, Sthat the
new master who was coming would not
stand no nonsense, but I didn’t know he
meant you, sir, because I had always heard
that the young master was dead.’
“And did you help him pack up? Did he
take money as well as papers?”
“I don’t know, sir. I only packed his
clothes, things he would want especial.”
I me convinced at last that the man
bed fe all he knew and I dismissed him,
wtvery well, Robert. You may stay, but
remember that on the east, , appearance of
anything wrong, out you
Later we learned that ny uncle had left
by an early train for the East and that
he had taken all the available money and
securities that he could put his hands upon.
e had swindled°others beside me and
detectives were put on his track by the
others, for I did not care to bring him
“back, but he made his escape and from
that day to now I have never seen nor
heard from .
Richards was captured later and so was
the captain, and both were warned to leave
the country and never return and I have
never seen Brockton since and whether he
‘ig alive or not or where he is I have not
the faintest notion.
uncle ‘left "the greater part of our
property behind simply because he was un-
able to take it with him, and with the gold
e had brought from the lost mines we
three were rich beyond the dreams of ava-
rice and had enough to last us all our lives,
Ned’s claims were proven easily enough,
but he always went by the name of Ned
Downes, although he married Bess under
his own name and became one of the family
and has always been
We never returned “to the islands, but
many years afterward the world wa:
tonished by the report of a sea captain
who had found on an island in the Pacific
furnaces, powder mills and mining plants
and that these were thought to have be-
Jonged to a prehistoric race of which there
was no record. .
Ned, Bess and myself were greatly
used, but we let the scientific world puz-
zle itself over the matter and did not at-
tempt to enlighten the learned debaters
upon the subject.
ears have passed since then and the
matter would have been entirely forgotten
had not one of my sons—his name is Ned—
asked me one day for a true story, and, with
the aid of my companions in the strange
happenings which we then witnessed, I
have written out the story of the earlier
lives of Nev, Bess AND MYSELF.
{THE END.]
pe
This story commenced in No. 279]
Down on the Old Farm
OR,
A_ BRAVE BOY’S FIGHT
FOR A HOME.
By R. T. EMMET,
Author of “That of Brown's,” “The
Boy
Boss of the Camp,” vupept on Breasure
Island,” “Cal, the Canvas Boy,”
CHAPTER XIX.
THE STRANGE DISAPPPEARANCE ON THE MOUN-
TAIN,
Sam shut of the side of his dark lantern
in a hurry a boys crouched down
behind the rocks at the side of the cave.
“He’s coning straight up here, whoever
e Pos ”” whispere
and he treads { too heavy for Brock,”
replied Charley. “I don’t believe it can be
che Jistened breathlessly, clutching his re-
3
Not that he had any idea of shooting
Brock off hand.
Charley was not -that sort of fellow at
all, but he felt desperate that night and
he was certainly ready for any emergency
in case it came to a figh
ouddenly the found” of the footsteps
8
“The boys listened for a long time, but the
person who ha en coming up the moun-
tain, whoever it might have been, did not
make himself heard again,
“Strange! Where has ‘he gone?” whis-
pered Charley.
‘Maybe he sat down to rest," said Sam.
“He was pretty close to us, too.
“That’s what's the matter. Can he have
turned off somewhere? If he had been half
sharp he must have seen the light, too.
tell you what it is, Sam. I don’t like this
altogether. He may -be watching for us
wcBet y u it was Brock and he did get onto
us. I ain't afraid of him. Come, lets go
down the mountain and see what it means,”
“No,” said Charley, decidedly. “You may
not be afraid of Brock Melton, but I am
after what I’ve seen of him the last week.”
“Well, you have good reason to be,
Charley, that’s right.”
. Brock is a good fellow at heart.
When he saved my life down by the old
Hamm House and we had that talk on the
bluff I told you about, I don’t doubt for an
instant he meant every word he said. I
could have done anything with him then,
but you see just as soon as he got back to
Boston the temptation was too much for
him. He went straight back among his old
companions, You take a fellow who is full
of whisky and opium there is no telling
what he will do.”
“I suppose so,” replied Sam.
weak minded anyway—always wai
“I think I must be, too, when I come to
ask myself why I didn’t work him for a
written confession about the bank robbery
when I had the chance,” replied Charley,
bitterly, “but that chance has gone by and
—hark! ‘Did you hear anything then,
on
“Brock’s
“Not a thing.”
“I thought I heard a rustling in the
bushes over there, but I guess I was mis-
taken. As I was saying, Brock is mixed
up with a tough crowd. Then there are
those counterfeiters. It may seem to you
strange that the place was left exposed
the way it w: but I account for it by
thinking that “the head man of the gang
took to his er as soon as the police came
lown on Quo Lee’s opium den, and,
what’s more, I ‘don t pelfeve he has any idea
of going bac probably
skipped out by w: y ot the roofs and that
is why I found the scuttle open the way I
“More than likely,” said Sam, “but, say,
Charley, there can’t be any doubt about
Brock having been mixed up with that
Qn
ga
“Not the least in the world. Of course
he was right in with them or he never
would have come into the place the way he
did.”
“Do you suppose he told the old man to
ere?”
0 .
“I’m sure I'll never tell you. If he did
Squire Melton must be a much worse man
than I ever supposed him to be,”
'
“He’s as bad as they make ’em,” said
Sam, emphatically. -“He has robbed the
widow and the orphan; he has ground down
every poor man who ever came into his
clutches and I do hope that this discovery
of yours will bring him to the end of his
a
“It certainly ought to if I can only prove
the charge, but as matters stand now I
may not dare to show my hand.
But if the Secret Service detectives come
they will probably find the bad money in
the house.”
Don’t you believe it. The sly old fox will
manage to conceal it somehow, but here we
are still in the dark about that fellow and
I declare I just can’t stand it any longer.
e must make some move.”
Oo rest he ought to be
along by this 8 time,” eal “I’m won-
dering aa it wasn't a wildeat we heard.”
“Some, ‘wildcats tread mighty heavy,
Cha
“I telf you it vs impossible, but it might
haye been a
“Bears have, ‘been seen on Breakneck—
that’s right.”
“Yes, and listening as we are now we are
bound to hear something. I don’t believe
we could tell the tread of a bear from the
tread of a man, “Still, we don’t want to
jump at any conclusions. Let’s just Jight
the lantern and go down boldly and see
what w e find.”
m ha d no objection to oer, for he was
only "too anxious to be on the
So the lantern was produced “nd Charley
insisted upon taking charge of it and go-
ing on in advance.
He descended the steep path without
making any attempt to go oe for he
knew that the light must betray t!
ey had gone but a short dictance 2 when
Sam stumbled over a root an
“Hello! What's the matter now?”
manded Charley.
“Oh, it’s this “confounded shoe of mine.
de-
it without a a light.
ute,
Charley walked on slowly, flashing the
lantern right and left.
To deny that he was afraid would be to
deny the truth, but he was determined to
solve the mystery at any cost.
Sam was a yee longer tying his shoe
than he meant to
He did not find it so easy to do it in the
Be with you in a min-
a
S
Tk.
“Hold on, Charley. I guess I shall have
to ave that light here a minute,” he called
“There was no answer.
Sam looked up, but could see no light.
He sprang to his feet but there was not
a glimmer among the -
“Charley! Charley!” he ‘call ed.
Still no answer came pack and a horrible
fear came over Sam. uld not under-
stand it and yet it seemed certain that he
was alone,
He ran on down the path, calling, shout-
ne. yelling at last, but it was all as be
oNot a sound was to be heard and the light,
had utterly vanished.
Sam stopped at last, leaning against a
tree with his heart beating like a trip
ham:
Come! Don’t fool with
“You are scaring me
mmer.
“Come, Charley!
me!” he called out.
half to death!”
It was his last appeal, for he knew that
unless something despeftate had happened
Charley would never refuse to respond.
Something desperate had happened. Just
poor Sam’s search continued
part g an hour and the situation did not
ne, vealed, shouted, yelled till he was
te ‘beat about among the bushes, lost the
path, found it again, did everything that a
boy could do and at last giving it up in
despair hurried down the mountain to get
iD.
It was midnight when he struck the vil-
lage with his clothes all torn and his face
and hands cut and bleeding.
His first thought was to go to the farm
and inform Mr. Tompkins what had hap-
pened, but he soon changed his mind, for
what could cheers poor old blind father
do in a case like t!
“I'll go for in SWeeks, the constable,”
Sam determined. “The whole village has
got to know it. We must get lanterns and
search the mountain thoroughly. It has
got to be done to-night and it shall be.”
™m was so excited that he scarcely knew
what he was talking about or he aight have
known that his plan would not
Here was Charley Tompkins vaceused of
bank robbery; he had made certain strange
statements to Sam and led m up on
Breakneck where he had managed to lose
mself. .
Moreover the boy was in disguise, like a
crimi
Who would believe Sam’s story
What else could happe en than harley’ ‘s
oe if he was fou:
s Sam hurried on. foward the constable’s
nouse al this came over him little by ittle.
“T n't do!” he thought. “No, it won’t
do. I ent tell them that Charley has been
send Mm to prison. What shall I do? What
shal.
ne ee used in despair, not noticing that
he was directly in front of Squire Melton’s
house; if he had looked toward it he might
have seen a dark figure standing inside the
gate,
It was Brock Melton. .
He held a stout stick in his hand and
was regarding Sam with an evil eye.
CHAPTER XX.
THE MAN IN THE CAVE,
“Hello, Sam Sanders! What in thunder
are you doing around here this time of
night?’
Brock Melton suddenly opened the gate
and stepped up to Sam, who started back as
though he had been stung.
“You,” he cried. “Yor ut Oh, you thief!”
“What do you say?” hissed Brock, coming
toward him. “Wha you say?”
“Where's Charley?” demanded Sam, wild-
ly. “You know—you’ve been on the moun-
i 5 your clothes are all torn like mine
ve been on Breakneck. You did it!
Where is he? Where is he? I will know?”
as he said it Sam made a rush for
was a fool,
Sam was a slightly built fellow, without
much physical strength, whereas Brock was
as strong as a hor:
Moreover, Brock, ‘had been drinking and
was perfectly reckless.
e shook Sam off easily, and, raising the
stick, dealt him a stunning blow across the
ad.
ee
Q
never even ive a groan, but
dropped at Brock’s feet and lay there like
one dead, with the blood all streaming over
ce,
2a
heavens! I’ve killed him!”
gasped Brock. “What an
Charley on Breakneck?
ow? I must find out or o am a lost’'man
if—if—the truth comes ou!
He bent down and tried Yo raise Sam in
is arms,
“Sam!
“Wake UP, Sam!
Sam!” he whispered, hoarsely.
Speak tome! Wake up!”
Poor ‘Sam lay like a log.
As ni S Broek could “make out he was
not breathing at all,
then gave up in despai r.
“I’m fixed now,” he muttered. “I was a
thief before—now I’m a murderer! I’ve
killed a fellow who never harmed me or
any one else. Great heavens, where is all
this going to end?”.
He hesitated for a moment and then,
seizing Sam by the shoulders, dragged him
down there.
“They'll see the blood on the grass,” he
muttered, “but that will be no proof. Let
the first team that comes along find him or
run over him, 1 don’t care which. I don’t
know anything about the business at all.”
He turned and hurriedly entered his fa-
ther’s gare, slamming the gate behind him.
At Same instant the window- was
hrown up and Squire Melton, | wearing a
red utghtcap, thrust out his head.
“ aw hat’s all
that snoise about?
only me, father,” replied Brock,
eae you, you young rapscallion? What
flee doing out there at this hour of the
0
“I've been taking a walk.”
“Who were you talking to just now?”
“T was talking to myself. I didn’t sup-
pose | I was disturbing anybody, but it seems
was wr
“You're drunk, that’s what's the matter
with you. Come in and go to bed or I'll
come out there with a cowhide and give
you the Bteatest old lambasting you ever
had, now min
Brock shot into the house and slammed
the door.
“{ can do nothing nowt he thought, “but
I must get up on just as soon
as it is daylight. It can’ "t be ‘that Charley is
be,
peck of trouble, which must now be ex-
plained,
When Sam stopped to tie his shoe, as has
been already stated, Charley walked on, ex-
pecting to have his friend immediately
overtake him
The path led him down past a ledge of
rocks in front of which was a thick growth
of bushes.
Charley flashed the lantern up against
the rocks, and, seeing nothing, was just
passing on when suddenly something came.
Ind.
Charley gave a sharp cry and struggled to
‘ree himself. .
The cry was completely smothered by a
heavy coat, which had been thrown over the
hands clutched his throat
grip, choking him into Tnsens ibility in less
time than it takes to tell
in town or I may ruin him forever and
igh I've got
him now!” breathed the man. - “You got the
He worked over him for a moment and
into the middle of the road and laid him
ote ee
ratory
ae
Lay yp at
yaured Oa &