For Life and Love. A story of the Rio Grande

Front matter

I J RAILWAY LIBRARY NOVELS. Picture Covers. Hamilton Aide. Honore de Balzac. Pere Goriot. Poet and Peer. Duchcsse de Langeais. Cesar Birotteau. W. H. Ainswortli. Eugenie Grandet. Cousin Pons. The Country Doctor. The Two Brother?. Alkahest. Preston Fight. The Tower of London : the Story of Lady Jane Grey. Windsor Castle: A Romance of Henry VIII. Rookwood, with Memoir of Mr. Ainsworth. The Lancashire Witches: A Ro- M. M. Bell. The Secret of a Life. mance of Pendle Forest. Guy Fawkes ; The Gunpowder Treason. Bertha H. Buxton. Great Grenfell Gardens. St. James's : The Court of Queen Anne. Old St. Paul's: A Tale of the Plague and the Fire. Crichton. Henry Cockton. Valentine Vox. Stanley Thorn. J. P. Cooper. The Deerslayer. The Pathfinder. Last of the Mohicans. Mervyn Clithcroe. Ovingdean Grange : A Tale of the South Downs.

The Miser's Daughter. The Flitch of Bacon ; or, The The Pioneers. The Prairie. Custom of Dunmow. Jack Sheppard. The Spendthrift. The Star Chamber : The Days of James the First. Auriol ; or, The Elixir of Life. Stanley Brereton. May Crominelin. A Jewel of a Girl. Orange Lily. Black Abbey. In the West Countrie. Joy. Mrs. Crowe. Captain Armstrong-. Susan Hopley. Two Midshipmen. The War Hawk. Charles Dickens. The Pickwick Papers. Sketches by " Boz." Nicholas Nickleby. Oliver Twist. The Young Commander. Jane Austen. Pride and Prejudice. Sense and Sensibility. Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. Mansfield Park. Martin Chuzzlewit. Dombey and Son. The Old Curiosity Shop Barnaby Rudge. Emma. GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, LIMITED. li Dn Boisg'obey . Miss Ferrier The Bride of a Day The Half-Sister's Secret.

Married for Love. The Red Band. The Condemned Door. Cash on Delivery. Death or Dishonour. The Felon's Bequest. The Cry of Blood. Fickle Heart. The Cat's- Eye Ring. Vol. i. Marriage. The Inheritance. Destiny. Fielding-. Tom Jones. Joseph Andrews. Amelia. G-erstaecker The Feathered Arrow. Vol. 2. Alezandre Dumas. G. R. Gleig The Figures show the order of the Sequels i Three Musketeers. Chelsea Veterans. The Hussar. 2 Twenty Years After. 3 Vicomte de Bragelonne, Vol. i. Mrs. Gore. Vol. 2. 4 The Money Lender, The Dowager. i Marguerite de Valois. 2 Chicot the Jester. 3 The Forty-five Guardsmen James Grant. Aide de Camp : Adventures in the Campaign of the Calabrias. Arthur Blane; or, The Hundred Cuirassiers. i The Conspirators. 2 The Regent's Daughter. r Memoirs of a Physician. 2 The Queen's Necklace. 3 The Taking of the Bastile. 4 The Countess de Charny.

Book I

"LOVE THAT HATH US IN THE NET." PAGE Chapter I. — Jack Manson's Orders — From the Rockies to the Gulf of Mexico — The Day Star. - 9' " II. — In Washington — Waiting for the Nation's Choice — Jack's NewFriend — The "Empress." 31 « III. — The Course of True Love — A Snake in the Grass — Creole Wiles — A Virginian at Home. 52 " IV. — Foxes in Council — Snares for the Unwary — Crœsus and the Senator. - - - - 74

Book II. The Rio Grande Company

Chapter V. — That Mysterious Company — A Paper Railroad — The Secret Meeting — Ul-Gotten Gains — Mildred Smiley's False Lover. 94 i. VI.— On His Guard— The Crescent City — Tom Bayard Sees a Forgotten Face — An Awkward Rencontre — Ramon Maxan's Oath, - - - PAGE CONTENTS. Chapter VII.— On the Gulf— The Storm-King's Wrath — The Spirit of Love Out of the Jaws of Death! - 148

Book III. On The Border

Chapter VIII.— The Telegraph's Mysteries — On the Mail Yacht— The Burning Bark off Padre Island — At Corpus Christi — A Senatorial Marriage Makes Strange Friends. - - - 166 « IX.— A Night at "Joe Garcia's" — "Our First Citizens" — Old Mark's Letters — Mrs. Senator Steele — Maxan in Ambush — A Frontier King. - - 197 " X.— At San Miguel — "For Mv Sake"— With the Wild Riders — A Fighting Trinity —The Tiger Balked of His Prey. 220

Book IV. The Jaguar's Desperate Struggle

Chapter XI. — Manson's Matchless Steed — A Harmonious Directory — An Hour in a Washington Boudoir — A Strange Warning. - 255 " XII.— For Life and Love— On the Wild Prairie — Mrs. Marshall's Letter — Silas' Voyage — At Hacienda Maxan — Panchita — The Jaguar on the Trail— A Thunderbolt— Lost Katie — First Blood for Jack — A Captured Message. - CONTENTS. Chapter XIII. — The Avengers — Daybreak at Las Cuevas — Jimmy Leavenworth's Fancy Shot — Over the Border — The Rangers — Storming the Wolf's Den — Colonel Jvl ejia's W.<y — Padre Antonio — A Dangerous Nurse. - 314

Book V. He Last Throw Of The Dice

LOVE WINS! Chapter XIV. — Katie's Story — Maxan's Revenge — Bob Kenyon Sees the Light at Last — An Upheaval — The Company's Downfall —No. 4 Draws Out!— The Railroad Builders — Black Clouds of Trouble — The Jaguar in Hiding. - - 346 «• XV. — A Notable Abdication— "What! Both?"— "Jimmy Also" — A Captive King — On the Pecos — The Talking Wire — The Peon Boy's Gratitude — At the Painted Caves — The Jaguar at Bay — "Your Life or Mine!" — » My Son Jack." - - 382 XVI.— The Brides of San Miguel— Senorita Panchita — The Congressional Election — At Arundel House — A Fallen Star — From the Dead ! — Milly Steele's Visitor — A Nueces Branch of the Railroad — Under the Southern Cross! - A STORY OF THE RIO GRANDE.

Chapter I. Jack Manson's Orders

— FROM THE " ROCKIES " TO THE GULF OF MEXICO THE DAY STAR ! "What nonsense!" cried handsome Jack Manson, as he hurled the book he had vainly essayed to read, into the dim recesses of the room, now shadowed by the dusk of evening. The offending volume fell, torn and fluttering its leaves in vain protest, into a jungle of instruments, surveying chains, saddles, guns, books, and frontier gear. Manson glared at the ruined romance, and, springing from his couch, lit a lamp and carefully filled his pipe. "'She Loved Another!' Well! suppose she did!" he growled, as he gazed wearily at the rough interior of the temporary Engineer Headquarters building at Cheyenne. Pacing the room with uneasy strides, Manson gazed from the uncurtained windows. The September winds were blowing keen and chill from the Rockies, far above him.

Never before had the bald, gray, stony hills looked so uninviting. Cheyenne in 1872 was not an agreeable place of residence; for the horde of gamblers, thieves, and outcasts who followed the construction of the Union Pacific Road, still lingered to grace the society of Manson's temporary home. Wyoming, at this date, proudly boasted daily robberies, " shooting scrapes," lynchings, and a more generally assorted deviltry than any division of the Union; with a slight polite reservation in favor of Texas. The outlook was unlovely! " It's a bad case of the blues," muttered Manson, as he threw himself into a rough chair, and listened, vacant minded, to the rattle of the dishes in the adjoining shed, where Hop Wo, the Chinese Soyer, was preparing the usual feast of coarse food. Frontier beef, canned stuff, i. e. preserved tinned goods, alleged bread and campaign coffee, were the usual garnishings of the mess table, unadorned by linen.

Jack Manson, as a division engineer on the Union Pacific Railroad, was finishing up the final professional work on the line, hastily thrown down from 1866 to 1868. In the fierce race between the Central Pacific and the Union Pacific to build the greatest number of miles and gain the largest national subsidy, Jack Manson had been the main-stay of the Chief. For six long years the young engineer had toiled with transit, level, and field-book over the unbroken prairies and through the rocky gorges of the mountain spurs. Sometimes working with rifle in one hand and the compass in the other, the young man was jaded and wearied with anxiety, fatigue, and danger. Now the lines were to be rectified, grades reduced, curves enlarged, and all the real finishing work executed under his watchful eye. His mind had grasped the needs of the situation, and two hundred miles of the road were photographed in his brain.

" Anderson should be here now!" he murmured, rous ing himself, as the moon-eyed Hop Wo silently spread the frugal board. "I'll wait a little!" His head fell on his breast in revery. He had sent his assistant on a reconnoissance trip of fifty miles to examine a proposed detour of the hastily patchcd-up road. " I wonder if the Indians have got him," Jack anxiously pondered. Sioux, Cheyennes, Ogallalas, Blackfeet, Kiowas, and other murderous tribes had amused themselves for years in harassing small parties, butchering teamsters, and dashing unawares on the scientists at their work. The young man's head drooped and his eyes were very dreamy. "Is this to last forever? " he murmured. The six years since he left the Polytechnic at Troy were a mere dreary waste of life. Dull days unmarked by aught save the varied dangers of the Sioux country and the arduous labor of his profession.

A rush and clatter of hoofs! Jack sprang to the door and peered into the darkness. " Is that you, Harry ? " he cried anxiously. "All right, Chief," was the cheery response, as Harry Anderson strode into the room, now quite inviting with its huge log-fire and the steaming supper. " Come in, Allison, when you've put the horses up," said Harry, as he threw off his pistol-belt and unbuckled his spurs. The guide disappeared with the tired steeds, and, after a hearty greeting, the two young men attacked the waiting repast. "Anything special, Harry?" queried Jack, as he heaped a plate for the hungry rider. "Not much," said Harry, between bites; "we hid in an arroyo from a little war party of young bucks — about half a dozen. Allison wanted to try his Win chester. I wouldn't let him. We were fired at in the canon behind Bald Peak.

Road agents, I guess! Probably took us for a couple of deputies hunting horse thieves! " "How about the line?" queried Manson, with some interest. Anderson swallowed a cup of coffee and slowly replied: " Very good ; we can save that heavy grade on the divide and go around, well protected from land slides and floods." " Excellent! " cried the overjoyed Manson. " Harry," said he, " If I leave nothing else, I wish to show the Chief our division in first-class trim, when he comes over the road. I'll look over the notes and sketches by and by." Silence reigned until the hungry assistant had revenged himself for the three days' bivouac privations. Pipes lit, by the blazing fire the two friends awaited Allison's return. They were types of manhood, yet differing widely. Jack Manson's five feet ten inches gave his well-knit frame a certain dignity.

Crisp, curling brown hair shaded his sunburned brows, beneath which a pair of clear blue eyes sparkled with the fire of youth. The straight nose, firm mouth, and square-cut chin made him the ideal of a resolute Anglo-Saxon, in the American edition. Quick, lithe, and neat-footed, his whole being exhaled energy and decision. A sweeping mustache, worthy of a trooper, gave an air of frontier dash to the man whose thoughtful brows bespoke the mathematician, while Harry Anderson, stocky and sturdy, with crisp, curling black hair, a flashing, truculent eye, and a heavy chest with rounded shoulders belted with muscle, was a representative of that stubborn cross, the Scotch-Irish. The night winds rose and howled around the rude dwelling. Jack Manson's eyes were fixed on the fire and a wistful shade crossed his face.

For, in the utter loneliness of six years, the sights and scenes around had grown weary and distasteful. Manson lifted his head as Allison, the guide, strode into the room. " Well, Allison, you brought back all your hair, I see! " cried Jack, as he motioned the scout to the modest feast. " So we did, Cap," answered the lank six footer, as he dropped into a chair and vigorously attacked the remains of the supper. " There would have been bald spots on our heads if those young braves had caught us in the arroyo. I hate to run before an Injun," he remarked, with evident disgust. "Here, Hop Wo!" he cried, and smiled approvingly as the celestial poured out a pint of steaming coffee. Allison, clad in a fringed suit of Indian tan buckskin, was belted with his heavy pistols and a bowie-knife of formidable dimensions.

Filling his pipe, he drew up with easy familiarity to the fire. "Thar's entirely too many of these young Sioux bucks knocking around in the hills now, Cap. You ought not to send less than five or six men out, now. You may get used to these devils, but they are always on the scalp hunt! They follow for fifty miles and make a run in when you're off your guard." Manson smoked reflectively. " I will get up a half dozen good fellows from the big camp," he said. " I think you are right. " Allison relapsed into silence and finally, knocking out his pipe, said: " I'll wander over to town and look in at the express and telegraph office." With a nod, he disappeared in the darkness. After a half-hour's discussion of Anderson's rough notes, Manson said kindly: "Harry, you turn in! You are tired! I'll sit and smoke awhile."

Silence reigned in the rude shelter as Manson dreamily gazed in the fire. An intense weariness, a feeling of desolation came over him. There was a warm strain of sentiment running through Jack's nature. The great logs crackled and fell into coals, little blue and red flames danced above the glowing coals. Young in years but old in experience, happier days came back to him. He could see again the wooded hills and green slopes of the Mohawk Valley, with the river flowing gently to join the blue Hudson. His home, his early friends, his school and college days came back, ■ - - - In the lonely Western cabin, the young engineer lived over again the sad days when Colonel Manson was brought home from Spottsylvania, with the regimental flag wrapped around his coffin. The gentle mother who followed her dead soldier to the land of shadows came back once more, and he could hear again her last appeal to grim old Mark Manson, his uncle, "Take care of Jack,' Mark!

He's all alone now!" The young man could see his stern uncle, standing with a suspiciously moist eye, by the pale woman, waiting for the summons, and hear him say again, " I'll make a man of him, Helen! " A great log fell down and broke in crackling fragments; Jack rose and trimmed the fire. He sighed as he gazed at stout Harry Anderson, sleeping like a child. "He does not care," bitterly thought Jack. " But I was made for better things than this ! " " True," he soliloquized, " Uncle Mark educated me, has stood by me, and between him and my work, I have gained promotion ! But there's another life than this. Home, friends, books, the thousand delights of civilization, and — and — " the young man's mind drifted away into a dream of fair women. The wine of life was stirring in the handsome fellow's veins.

" It's a death in life," he growled. " I have not seen a woman I knew for years." He ignored the several Indian princesses of note he had met. " Brave Rainbow," " Moonlight Shadow," and " Bounding Antelope," daughters of war chiefs, were young Sioux rosebuds somewhat peculiar in their habits. " Brave Rainbow " was far too fond of firewater; " Moonlight Shadow " would slyly abstract anything lighter than an army wagon, and " Bounding Antelope " he had seen the day before, " al fresco," calmly lunching from portions of a dead army mule.. " Not up to the ideal of Ppcahontas or Mmnehaha," Manson sneered. As for the pale anæmic frontier women, they were draggled children of misery — vainly wandering to and fro with their uncouth liege lords. Saddened, hopeless drudges, were these poor feminine pioneers.

Occasional glimpses of weary, dusty, cross looking women tourists, sullenly gazing from car windows exasperated the impressionable youth — for it was before the days of vestibuled luxury, and feminine graces were but feebly affected by the tired, jaded trav ellers of that day. As for the shrill-voiced, unabashed " beauties" of the ambulatory settlement following the railroad, they were merely " wrecks on error's shore." They were house less shadows, flitting specters, these wild-eyed, battered Mænads, flaunting the crimson flag of vice, with no rosy charms to beguile. " I would like to see a sweet bright woman once more," he muttered as the fire sank low. A child of care, early thrown on his own resources, Manson felt that he was alone in the battle of life, with no tender eyes following his pathway in the conflict.

His youth was hard and lonely, his early manhood a social blank. Lo v £. "Will it ever end! Shall I lay my bones dowri in these gray hills!" He gave a stray log a kick, and sought his fur-decked couch. Before his eyes closed, the door was thrown open. Allison strode in, bringing gusts of night wind with him, setting the dying embers flaring. "Telegram for you, Cap! Answer immediate! I'll saddle my horse and ride down with your answer to the station. Office in town shut now. I'll be back in five minutes." The sturdy guide cheerful-fy stalked off to toss the saddle on his jaded pony. By the gleam of the one kerosene lamp which the palace of science boasted, Manson read the words flashed over the talking wire. He sprang up with a shout which aroused even the tired Anderson, who growled: "What's up, Chief?"

Manson stood by the table, the paper fluttering in his hand. He devoured it over and over again. Its laconic words thrilled his very heart. He handed it to Anderson without a word. The missive needed no explanation. It was dated New York, September 8, 1872, and its fateful contents were: "Turn your division over to Anderson, promoted. Settle your accounts with Chief Engineer at Omaha. Come here at once; want you to go South. Draw for funds, if needed. Answer." The signature was that of the potent railway magnate, steamboat king, and financial prince, Mark Manson. Jack threw himself in a chair, and said quietly, "I congratulate you, Harry. That means two thousand a year increase to you." "When will you go, old man? By Jove! This is sudden ! " ejaculated Anderson, still half asleep. Manson's flying fingers traced a few lines with nervous eagerness.

He tossed it to Anderson. The overjoyed, newly-made Division Engineer read: " Leave on to-uiorrow's train. Report forthwith. No funds needed. " As Anderson's eye scanned the last word, the clatter of hoofs announced Allison, who grasped the despatch and dashed away in the darkness, his horse striking fire from the flinty float rock, with his armed hoofs. There was an end to sleep. With the aid of sundry candles, and the glaring kerosene, Manson began throwing together, in a pile, such traps as he proposed to save from the flitting. " The train comes along at 7 :3o," said Manson, as he stuffed his private papers into his trunk and tossed in at random the few belongings he was encumbered with. " You can give me a memorandum receipt, Harry, for the instruments and records. Send your full papers on to New York.

Keep all this trash here. It will be of some use to you." Anderson nodded and with his executive dash, roused the son of the Flowery Kingdom and announced the early departure. When Allison, wearied and chilled, entered the room, he was visibly affected by the news, and even more so by the present of Manson's riding gear and formidable armament. Over a reserved bottle of good Bourbon, the three companions of many dangerous ventures held an impromptu carnival of frontier jollity. The stars were low in the west, and the genial volunteer drchestra of coyotes was waking the echoes of the surrounding hills — a hint of daybreak — when Manson threw himself down for two hours' sleep. He tossed uneasily in the wildest dreams. It cost Jack a heart wrench, as four hours later he wrung Anderson's hand, when the screech of the locomotive warned the friends of the parting hour. .

"God bless you, old boy! Goon up to the top!" cried Jack, as the elated Anderson essayed vainly to say " Good-bye." Six years of toil and danger hae? knitted closely their bond of brotherhood. Allison, loose-jointed and laconic, grasped the young traveller's hand with the grip of a vise. "Good-bye, Cap!" he heartily said, "Yer as squar' a man as ever straddled a horse! When ye've got a pretty wife, you'll be over here in a director's car. Don't forget the boys! " Hpp Wo," with forethought, presented sundry dainties, and grinned an approving adieu as he pocketed a bright tweHty-dollar piece. The tired eyes of Manson closed in slumber as the train tore along, past the unbroken sameness of the rolling hills, and in the young man's dreams a haunting sense of curious expectancy kept his nerves in feverish unrest. '"In half-waking hours he experienced a delicious sense of restfulness, as he noted from hour to hour the old familiar scenes of storm, toil, privation, and danger flit by.

Memories of friends dead, of unnoticed hardship, and lonely hours came back as the familiar names, Sidney, Ogalalla, North Platte, Plum Creek, and Grand Island sounded on his ear. In two days he glided over the thousand miles over which he had trudged, transit on shoulder, revolver at belt, for six weary years. It was "only when the red banks of the Missouri, crested with Omaha's straggling houses, appeared in front, that he turned his tired head and said, " Good-bye, Mr. Sioux Brave and Mrs. Sioux Squaw! May we never meet again." Two hours of the next morning sufficed to settle his accounts. The grizzled Chief of the Trans- Continental Line handed him a testimonial, his arrearages, and a check for one year's pay. "General, I do not understand this," said Manson, his cheek flushing; " I do not ask for presents."

"Take all you can get in this world, my boy!" said the busy ex-general, now Chief Engineer of the Union Pacific. " Don't be so bashful ! Did you ever hear of the Credit Mobilier? This is some of their loose funds — a little fragment. It's orders from headquarters anyway." Manson winced, for well he knew that silent old Mark Manson was the arch high priest of that mysterious body. He pocketed the check and declined the general's plea for a parting dinner. "I must hasten along," he said, while returning thanks. " By the way, General, do you know where I am to go? " The general's steady gray eye almost condescended to a wink. " Did you ever know Mark Manson to tell his business?" The young man was fain to wait for the answer at New York. " By the way, my young friend," said the chief, as he grasped Jack's hand in farewell, "don't forget to visit the tailor's in Chicago.

A man may be a swell in Cheyenne and yet cut a strange figure on Broadway." The old engineer laughed heartily as he swung Jack around before a mirror. Manson joined gleefully in the burst of merriment. " By Jove ! " he cried, " I thank you. Now I remember, even here people stared at me." For his handsome face and splendid physique made a medley of frontier garb — soldier's uniform and picked up " store goods " — seem ridiculous. " You will see hosts of pretty girls in Chicago and eastwardly," the chief chuckled. " They would take you for the' Whirlwind of the Prairies' or 'Dead wood Bill, the Man Eater.' " Light-hearted and happy, Manson crossed the muddy Missouri. Two days in Chicago sufficed to restore him to the outward semblance of civilization. His face seemed strange as he gazed at the splendor of raiment unaccustomed in use for six weary years.

Save the ruddy brown of his cheek and the stern, almost careworn expression of his features, Jack was now the " every-day young man " as he sought the easy Pullman for the final stage of his journey. No trace of his frontier life lingered with him save a nervous distrust of the crowded sidewalks and a longing to take the middle of the street. He had conquered his habit of looking to right, left, and rear for concealed foes in ambush, but was forced to admit the danger of a fusillade of admiring eyes from the milliner stores and corner shops. Women in all their charming variations of dress, feature, and diverse attractions made Chicago seem a sort of brick-and-mortar Eden. With a sigh of relief he saw the Lake City fade away behind him. The fresh breeze from the water served to brush away his olden cares.

Jack, having announced his arrival in New York by telegraph, felt a keen enjoyment in yielding to a destiny pointed out by the stern old Crœsus who waited for him. Hourly his spirits rose, and, as the fragrant clouds from a Cabafja hovered round him, he ruminated: "Down South, even Kuklux and Cowboys can not be worse neighbors than the long-haired Sioux or the Cheyenne dog-soldiers.'' On past the roar of Niagara, down through the lovely Mohawk Valley (his head resolutely turned away from the hills hiding his old home), past his boy hood's Alma Mater, and dashing along the unrivalled shores of the Hudson, Manson swiftly sped, eager to know his final orders. The car was filled with travellers, eagerly discussing the great presidential election impending. The burning question of the hour was the selection of the hero of the sword, the taciturn Grant, or the eccentric veteran field. marshal of the pen, Greeley, to preside over the councils of the country for four years.

High waxed discussion in the smoking-room, and the wearied engineer sought the interior of the car. Nearing the Highlands, a merry delegation of fair college beauties from Vassar joined the train at Pough keepsie. Maxwell was checking his curiosity as to the future by poring over a thrilling romance, a weird tale of love, one of those heart-moving narratives whose sole excuse of being is that " He who runs may read." The sound of a woman's voice awakened him from his listless day-dream over the florid pages of the novelist. Sweet and low, thrilling in its soft earnestness, it seemed to pierce his very heart. In uneasy resistance he lingered a few minutes. In a few moments the simple artifice of passing in and out of the car gave him an excuse to gaze upon the unknown whose accents moved him so strangely.

Mr. Jack Manson was conscious of a strange new feeling in his heart as he turned and stole a glance at the woman he listened to. There was no mistaking the indications. Two sisters, emancipated from the guarded bowers and academic shades of Vassar, guardian of these lovely voyagers — a middle-aged lady of irreproachable manner, dress, and composure. The elder girl, tall, with dark eyes and a sweet serious face, was gazing fondly at the ani mated Hebe whose voice had wakened the lonely echoes of his heart. The calm brows of the elder sister, shaded by silken brown tresses, were worthy of a St. Cecilia. Stealing a glance at the younger stranger, Manson whispered to himself, " A dream of beauty!" And so the fair unknown was. Bright and eager, she was wondrously lovely. In her witching deep-blue eyes the light of womanhood's spring-time sparkled.

The exquisite symmetry of her form aided the charm of the sea-shell's magic tints shading her fair face. Manson trifled away a few moments and quietly reseated himself. As he passed the unknown beauties he felt his cheeks burn, for one keen flash of the blue eyes told him instantly that his unconscious admiration had been observed. Jack Manson dropped humbly in his seat and feigned to diligently devour the unfinished story of " pride and passion," which f ortunat ely concealed his sudden confusion. Still that velvety voice, thrilling every fibre of his being! "If I were a free man," he mentally resolved, " I would follow that girl to Greenland to be near her." With clash and roar and screaming whistles, the train drew into the great Empire City. " I'll have a last -look at this rosy fairy," the young traveller decided, as he sprang off the car and awaited the leisurely departure of the ladies.

The shouts and bustle of a great station confused him and he gazed around in sudden helplessness. His eyes roving over the joyous groups rested at last upon a tableau which chilled his pulses like an Arctic blast. The graceful head of the blue-eyed enchantress was resting on the breast of a tall, stalwart young man, her rounded arms were twined around his neck. Jack Manson gasped and almost dropped his "sac de voyage." "Great Heavens! She's engaged! This closes this chapter and the book forever!" Manson was rooted to the spot, and gazed vacantly at the only energetic demonstrations of affection he had seen for six years. He started in surprise as the eager stranger fondly embraced the St. Cecilia with equal fervor. "Can he be engaged to both of them?" was a hideous flash-light thought, smacking of Mormonism.

The gentleman from Cheyenne was further astounded to see this universal kisser salute the dignified and still handsome duenna with a judiciously graded fervor. "Affection mingled with respect!" Jack decided. "I'll have a peep at that youth's face! He seems to be a 'persona grata.' By Jove!" Manson thought, with an inspiration which made his heart bound, " he may be only a brother! He hugged both those girls." And, moving sidelong in apparent abstraction, Jack, the sud den prey of roguish Dan Cupid, glared on the happy man whose florid affection galled the impressionable traveller. Manson made one bound, as he dropped the satchel from his hand — his surprise found vent in words: "Jimmy Leavenworth! By all that's holy!" Extricating himself from his fair captors, the party addressed turned his head sharply, and sprang forward with outstretched hand.