“Blood Will Tell; or, Nick Carter’s Play in Politics,” will be the title of the long, complete story which you will find in the next issue, No. 156, of theNick Carter Stories, out September 4th. In this narrative you will read of the final round-up of Mortimer Deland. You will also find the usual installment of the serial now running in this publication, together with several interesting articles.
“Blood Will Tell; or, Nick Carter’s Play in Politics,” will be the title of the long, complete story which you will find in the next issue, No. 156, of theNick Carter Stories, out September 4th. In this narrative you will read of the final round-up of Mortimer Deland. You will also find the usual installment of the serial now running in this publication, together with several interesting articles.
It was a saying of a wise man that we have one mouth and two ears in order that we may listen twice as much as we speak.
A teacher once quoted this remark to his pupils, and not long afterward, to see how well the instruction was remembered, asked:
“Why is it that we have two ears and only one mouth, Brown?”
Brown had forgotten the philosopher’s explanation, but thought the question not a very hard one.[Pg 39]
“Because,” he said, “we should not have room in our face for two mouths, and we should look too crooked if we had only one ear.”
“No, no,” said the master, “that is not the reason. You know, don’t you, Smith?”
“Yes, sir,” answered that hopeful. “So that what we hear may go in at one ear and out at the other.”
(This interesting story was commenced in No. 153 ofNick Carter Stories. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer or the publishers.)
“Guess I’ll borrow your motor cycle, old man, if you don’t object,” said Hawley to his host.
“What! You don’t mean to say you’re going to Oldham again?” the latter protested. “How about your doctor’s orders to keep quiet and avoid all excitement?”
“I shall try to avoid excitement as much as possible while I’m in town,” the Camera Chap replied dryly. “But I’ve got to go this time. When duty calls, physician’s orders don’t count, you know. Here’s the telegram, old man. You can see for yourself that it’s really a case of must.”
His host perused the telegram and shook his head disapprovingly. “I can’t say I think much of a boss who won’t leave a man alone during his vacation—especially when that man has been ordered by his physician to keep his thoughts away from business. This managing editor of yours must be a peach, Hawley.”
The Camera Chap laughed. “Oh, Paxton is all right. There isn’t a whiter man in the newspaper game. TheSentinelmust need that picture badly, or you can be sure they wouldn’t have bothered me with it. May I have the motor cycle?”
“Of course, if you are determined to go. But if I were in your place, I’d send them back a telegram that they’d have to get another man to do the job. Seems to me that they could have got the picture just as easily by wiring to a local photographer and leaving you alone. Surely anybody can take a picture of a building. No particular skill required for that.”
Hawley smiled grimly. “Some buildings are harder to take than others. I’ve a sort of an idea that this snapshot of the city hall is going to be one of my masterpieces. I’m eager to get at it.”
His host shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t see why the job should appeal to you so greatly. I thought you liked snapshots which involved risk. Surely there isn’t anything particularly thrilling about taking a picture of a building.”
Perhaps it is needless to say that the Camera Chap’s host was not aware of the new anticamera bill which the Oldham council had recently enacted. Hawley did not enlighten him.
Five minutes later, just as the Camera Chap was about to start, his friend made an astonishing discovery.
“Why, you absent-minded beggar!” he exclaimed laughingly. “You’re actually going off without your camera.[Pg 40]Don’t expect to be able to take a picture without it, do you?”
The Camera Chap grinned. “I’m leaving it behind purposely,” he said. “No use taking my big camera for this job. I’ve got a kodak in my coat pocket, and that’ll serve the purpose just as well—better, in fact, for this particular snapshot.”
Of course, Hawley would have preferred to have taken his larger camera with him, but he realized that it would have been sheer folly to have attempted to photograph the city hall with anything larger than a kodak. With six months in prison staring him in the face, he had to be content with a smaller picture.
The pocket camera, however, had an excellent lens, and, of its class, was the very finest instrument obtainable. The Camera Chap always carried it with him so as to be prepared for such emergencies as this. On many occasions in his eventful career it had enabled him to turn defeat into victory after he had been foiled in his attempts to use his more conspicuous apparatus.
“It really is kind of odd that Paxton should have given me this assignment,” Hawley mused, as he motored down the steep mountain road which led to Oldham. “He was so emphatic in urging me to obey my physician’s orders to forget that there was such a thing in the world as a camera. When I gave him my telegraph address and told him not to hesitate to send for me in case I was needed, he replied that he wouldn’t think of doing so unless the entire city of New York was burning and there wasn’t anybody else to photograph the conflagration. Paxton always means what he says, too. Funny that he should have sent me this telegram.
“But, then,” he added, anxious to make excuses for his managing editor, “I suppose he figured that this was such an easy assignment that it couldn’t do me any harm. Of course, he doesn’t know about this new anticamera law. If he had known of it, no doubt he would have preferred to go without the picture of the city hall rather than have asked me to run the risk of going to jail.”
The Camera Chap had traveled two-thirds of the distance to Oldham, when suddenly, as he approached a bend in the road, there came to his ears a sound which caused him to put on more speed, in spite of the fact that the motor cycle was already going at a rate which the steep down grade and the unevenness of the road rendered somewhat dangerous.
It was a scream which caused him thus to risk his neck—the piercing, startled cry of a woman. It appeared to come from just beyond where the road turned.
Rounding the curve without taking the precaution of slowing down, Hawley came in sight of an automobile—a small runabout—standing in the roadway. At the steering wheel of this machine sat a girl who was cowering in terror from a ragged, rough-looking fellow of the hobo type, who stood on the running board.
The Camera Chap took in the situation at a glance. Evidently the runabout had broken down, and the tramp, seeing that it was stalled on this lonely country road, and that its sole occupant was a girl, had not hesitated to annoy her.
The noise of the approaching motor cycle was warning enough for the ruffian. Before Hawley could get to him, he had jumped from the step of the car and dashed through the thick brush which lined the roadway.[Pg 41]
The Camera Chap applied his brakes and brought his motor to a stop alongside the car. Then, with a reassuring word to the girl, he jumped from his wheel and went in pursuit of her annoyer.
But the bushes were so thick at this point that the slight start the fellow had was sufficient to enable him to get away. Hawley went crashing and floundering through the brush for some time in the hope of hitting the trail of the fugitive, but finally had to give it up as useless.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost him,” he said, somewhat crestfallen, as he returned to the girl in the automobile. “I don’t suppose he can have gone very far, but these bushes are worse than a maze at a county fair.”
“It’s no matter,” said the girl, with a smile. She seemed to have recovered a great deal of her lost composure. “I’m just as pleased that you didn’t catch him. I really don’t think the fellow meant any harm. He asked for money. The reason I screamed was because he looked so rough. The road here is so lonely that I lost my nerve when he came through the bushes and climbed onto the car. I suppose if I’d given him a few cents he’d have gone away quietly enough. I’m afraid I’m rather silly to be scared so easily.”
“Not at all,” said the Camera Chap. “I guess anybody would have been scared under the circumstances. What’s the matter with the car; a breakdown?”
“Oh, no,” the girl replied. “There’s nothing the matter with the car. I stopped merely because I—I was waiting for somebody whom I expect to meet here.”
Her hesitation and the vivid blush which accompanied these words enlightened Hawley as to the gender of this somebody for whom she was waiting.
She was an exceedingly attractive girl, and Hawley found himself envying the man whom she expected to meet. But as he had no desire to intrude upon this tryst, he stepped over to his motor cycle, and turned to the girl inquiringly.
“Guess I’ll be getting along,” he said, “unless, of course, you prefer to have me remain until the arrival of this—er—person you’re expecting. Are you afraid to be left alone here?”
“Oh, no,” she answered, in a tone which told him of her eagerness to get rid of him. “I’ll be all right, thank you. Please don’t let me detain you. I don’t intend to stay here. I’m going to turn the car around and ride slowly back toward Oldham until I meet—the friend I’m expecting.”
“That’s a very sensible idea,” Hawley said. “While the machine is in motion you’ll be in no danger of annoyance from any more tramps.”
He doffed his cap, and was just starting the motor of his cycle when the girl called to him.
“I quite forgot to thank you for your timely assistance,” she said, giving him a gracious smile, which did a lot to atone for her evident anxiety to have him depart. “I assure you that I am very grateful.
“I live in Oldham,” she went on. “If you would care to call on us, I am sure my uncle, with whom I live, would be glad of the opportunity to add his thanks to mine. My name is Melba Gale, and——”
“Gale!” the Camera Chap repeated, speaking more to himself than to the girl. “That must be merely a coincidence, of course. Surely you are no relative of Gale, of theNews?[Pg 42]”
“Do you mean the New YorkDaily News?” the girl inquired, some astonishment in her tone. “I have a cousin who for several years has been a reporter on that paper. It is with his family that I am living. I am an orphan, and my Uncle Delancey’s house has been my home ever since I was three years old. Do you know my cousin?” she asked, looking at him keenly.
“I have met him,” the Camera Chap replied evasively.
“In New York?”
“Yes.”
“Then, perhaps you can tell me,” the girl began. Then she broke off suddenly as, glancing over her shoulder, she caught sight of a young man mounted on a bicycle who was approaching from the direction of Oldham.
It needed only one glance at her flushed, radiant face to tell Hawley that this was the lucky man who was expected.
The Camera Chap would scarcely have been human if he had been able to refrain from staring at the latter. Naturally, he was curious to see what the fellow looked like.
And, as the bicyclist drew near, Hawley experienced another great surprise.
This young man who was hastening to meet Miss Melba Gale, niece of the proprietor of the OldhamDaily Chronicle, was no stranger to him.
It was his friend, Fred Carroll, proprietor of theChronicle’sbitter rival, the OldhamDaily Bulletin.
“Hello, Frank!” exclaimed Carroll, in an astonished tone as he jumped from his wheel. “I certainly didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I am equally surprised to see you, old man,” the Camera Chap replied dryly. Then he added, a twinkle in his eye: “I didn’t know you were in the habit of going bicycle riding during office hours.”
“I don’t make a habit of it,” Carroll returned, with a guilty grin. “The fact is—— Why, hang it all, Hawley, you infernal old busybody! What business is it of yours, anyway?”
As the Camera Chap’s name was mentioned, the girl’s brown eyes opened wide with surprise, and she uttered a faint exclamation; but neither of the young men heard it.
“It’s none of my business at all, old scout,” Hawley admitted, laughing. “And, moreover, I’m going to make myself scarce immediately. I’ve got a hunch that this is one of those cases where two is company and three is a tremendously big crowd. Besides, I have a pressing engagement in town and have got to get a move on.”
“Wait just one minute, please,” cried Miss Gale, as the Camera Chap was mounting his motor cycle. “Fred, is this Mr. Hawley, the New YorkSentinel’scamera man? Because, if so, I am just in time.”
“Just in time for what, Melba?” inquired Carroll, while the Camera Chap stared at her wonderingly.
“To prevent him from going to Oldham,” the girl answered. “It was solely on his account, Fred, that I sent you that note asking you to meet me here. I wanted to tell you to warn Mr. Hawley of the trap which had been set for him.”
“The trap!” exclaimed Hawley and Carroll in chorus.
“Yes,” said the girl. Then, turning to the Camera[Pg 43]Chap, she exclaimed tensely: “You spoke just now of having a pressing engagement in town, Mr. Hawley. Isn’t it your intention to take a photograph of the city hall?”
“It is,” Hawley replied. “I am on my way to get that picture now. But how in the name of all that’s wonderful, Miss Gale, do you happen to know about my assignment?”
Instead of answering his question, the girl asked him another.
“You received a telegram to-day, did you not?” she said. “A telegram supposed to have come from the managing editor of the New YorkSentinel?”
“Supposed to have come from the managing editor!” Hawley repeated, a suspicion of the truth suddenly dawning upon him. “Do you mean to say, Miss Gale, that——”
“I mean to say that that telegram was a fake,” she declared, without waiting for him to finish. “It didn’t come from New York. It didn’t come over the wire at all. It was composed and written by my cousin on one of the typewriters in theChronicleoffice. It was part of the trap which my cousin and the chief of police have set for you, Mr. Hawley.”
“I see,” said the Camera Chap quietly. “Their scheme, of course, was to lure me to Oldham to take that picture, and then have me sent to jail for six months for violating the new law. Clever little plan. And it came pretty near succeeding, too. I had no suspicion that the telegram wasn’t genuine. If you hadn’t warned me, Miss Gale, I should surely have walked right into the trap. I can scarcely find words to thank you enough.”
“How did you manage to find out about it, Melba?” Carroll inquired, with a fond glance at the girl.
“Chief Hodgins was at our house last night,” she replied, “and I overheard him and my cousin discussing the plan. They didn’t know that I was listening, of course; but I managed to overhear enough to enable me to understand what they intended to do. The chief expressed doubts as to whether the scheme would work. He said that Mr. Hawley would probably hear about the new anticamera law, and would not be so foolish as to run the risk of going to jail. But my cousin said that he was confident that the telegram would do the trick. He said that Mr. Hawley had never been known to balk at an assignment, and that no amount of danger could keep the rattle-brained fool—those were the words he used—from coming after that picture if he thought theSentinelneeded it.”
Carroll looked at the Camera Chap admiringly.
“That’s a mighty fine tribute to get from an enemy,” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “You ought to be proud of that compliment, Hawley, old fellow.”
“My cousin didn’t mean it for a compliment,” declared Miss Gale. “He stated it merely as a fact which would insure the success of their plan.”
“That makes it all the more of a compliment,” Carroll said. “Tell me, little girl, did you let those fellows know that you were wise to their game?”
“No, I didn’t. My first impulse was to tell my cousin just what I thought of such a contemptible trick, and warn him that if he attempted to carry it out I should certainly interfere; but upon second thought I decided to say nothing to him. I thought it would be a better plan to notify you so that you could warn Mr. Hawley to pay no attention to that fake telegram.[Pg 44]”
“That was a much better plan,” the Camera Chap declared. “I am very glad, Miss Gale, that you didn’t say anything to your cousin. Had you done so, it would not have been possible for me to carry out the idea that has just occurred to me. I think I have a little surprise in store for those fellows.”
“You’re not contemplating taking any legal action, are you, old man?” Carroll inquired anxiously. “I suppose you could prosecute them for forgery or conspiracy, or anything of that sort. They richly deserve it, of course. But for Miss Gale’s sake I hope you won’t do it.”
“Of course not,” said Hawley indignantly. “What do you take me for, Fred? I’d be a fine specimen of humanity if I were to repay Miss Gale’s kindness by trying to send one of her family to prison. And she’d have to be the chief witness for the prosecution, too; otherwise I’d have no case. Do you think I’d be capable of that? Legal action is quite out of the question, of course, under the circumstances. Besides, I don’t like going to court.”
“Then what is this surprise which you say you are going to give them?” Carroll inquired.
The Camera Chap chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse me for not answering that question now, Fred. If I did, it would spoil the big laugh which I think I can promise you later on.”
Less than half an hour later, the Camera Chap entered the Invincible Garage, on Main Street, Oldham.
“I want to check my motor cycle here,” he said to the man in charge. Then, taking from his pocket the small camera of expensive make with which he had intended to take the snapshot of the city hall, he added: “I’d regard it as a great favor if you’d take care of this, too, for a little while.”
“Sure,” assented the garage man, holding out his hand for the camera. “I suppose you want to make sure that you won’t run foul of the new law, eh?” he remarked, in a jocular tone.
Hawley nodded gravely. “I don’t want to take any chances,” he explained. “You see, I happen to be quite a camera fiend. Whenever I run across anything worth photographing, I simply cannot resist the temptation to take a snapshot. So, as I am a peaceful, law-abiding citizen, I think it will be a wise plan for me to leave my camera in your custody. If I haven’t it with me, I can’t very well be tempted to break the law, can I?”
“Not very well,” the garage man answered, with a broad grin. “But, say, if you’re so keen on taking pictures, why don’t you get a permit from the chief of police? Then you can take all the snapshots you want.”
“Maybe the chief wouldn’t give me a permit,” the Camera Chap replied dryly.
“Sure he would,” the garage man declared confidently. Hawley was a perfect stranger to him. “The law wasn’t made to prevent people like yourself from taking pictures. It is true that the chief of police has full power to grant or refuse camera permits at his discretion; but anybody can get one—provided he ain’t connected with theBulletin.”
“Why the discrimination?” the Camera Chap inquired, with seeming innocence.[Pg 45]
“It is very evident that you’re a stranger here, sir, or you wouldn’t risk that question. It is generally understood that theBulletinwas the cause of this anticamera law being passed. You see, there’s a bitter fight going on between theBulletinand the town government; and, the other day, that newspaper scored heavily by publishing a couple of snapshots of the chief of police, which made him boiling mad.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Hawley, with well-feigned astonishment. “I shouldn’t think the chief would object to having his portrait published. Is he such a modest man?”
The garage man grinned again. “Nobody ever accused big Bill Hodgins of modesty that I know of. But you see, sir, these weren’t ordinary portraits. Some nervy photographer—I understand it was a young camera man from a New York newspaper—sneaked into the chief’s private office at police headquarters while he was taking a midday snooze and took two snapshots of him fast asleep at his desk. Those were the pictures which theBulletinpublished on its front page. Naturally, Bill Hodgins was peeved.”
“Naturally,” the Camera Chap agreed. “What an outrage! Really, some of those newspaper photographers go a little too far sometimes. Under the circumstances, I don’t blame the chief for refusing to grant a camera license to anybody connected with theBulletin.”
“No, indeed,” said the garage man. “But, as I say, anybody else can get one; so, if I was you, I’d go straight to police headquarters and apply for a permit.”
“Oh, I guess I won’t bother,” said Hawley. “I don’t intend to stay in Oldham very long, so it is scarcely worth while. Just take good care of that camera of mine, will you, old man?”
The Camera Chap sauntered up Main Street until he came to a store which sold sporting goods, toys, and cameras. Entering this shop, he stepped up to the toy counter.
“I want to get a present for my little nephew,” he announced to the saleswoman. “Don’t know exactly what I want yet, so I’ll look around a bit, if you don’t mind.”
It didn’t take him long to make a selection from the large variety of toys displayed on the counter and shelves. Then, with his purchase in his hand, he was just about to leave the store, when, apparently, a sudden thought came to him.
“By the way, you sell cameras here, don’t you?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir—at the rear of the store,” the saleswoman replied.
Hawley stepped up to the photographic counter and purchased a small film camera.
“Wrap it up in good, strong paper, please,” he requested the salesman. “I want to conceal the fact that I’m carrying a camera.”
“Haven’t taken out your license yet, eh?” said the salesman, with a smile.
“No, not yet,” the Camera Chap replied.
“Well, why not drop into police headquarters right now and attend to it? Then you won’t have to be afraid of getting into trouble. It’ll only take you a couple of minutes.”
But Hawley did not drop into police headquarters, al[Pg 46]though he passed right by that building on his way to the city hall.
Chief Hodgins happened to be standing in the doorway as the Camera Chap passed. He was engaged in conversation with the younger Gale.
“I’ve got a feelin’ that he ain’t coming,” the big chief remarked uneasily. “You can depend upon it that he’s heard about this law and is afraid to take a chance.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll come, all right,” declared Gale confidently. “The only thing that could keep him away would be a suspicion that that telegram of ours wasn’t genuine, and I’m pretty sure he won’t suspect that.”
Then suddenly Gale caught sight of Hawley, and poked his companion in the ribs.
“Look! Here he comes now,” he whispered excitedly. “What did I tell you, chief?”
“By Jiminy! It’s him, sure enough,” the head of Oldham’s police force muttered. “I’ve only seen him once—and that time I only got what you might call a fleetin’ glimpse of him—but I’d know the rascal anywhere. I could pick him out of a thousand.”
“Don’t let him see us,” Gale whispered cautiously, pulling his companion farther back into the hallway of the headquarters building. “Compose yourself, chief.”
This last remark was called forth by the fact that Chief Hodgins’ round face had turned scarlet, and his little, beady eyes seemed about to leave their sockets. His fat fingers opened and closed convulsively, and he fairly trembled with the fury which the sight of the Camera Chap aroused within his breast.
“I can hardly keep my hands off him,” he growled.
“Don’t do it, chief,” Gale urged. “Go easy or you’ll spoil the whole game. In a few minutes you’ll have the satisfaction of marching him to jail. That’ll be much better than physical violence. See, he’s heading straight for the city hall; and I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that that brown paper package in his hand is a camera. He must be a bigger idiot than I thought him if he imagines he can fool us by such a bluff.”
“Come on,” said Hodgins impatiently. “Let’s trail the loafer. I’ve got six of my best men stationed around the city hall, laying in wait for him. I assigned the best detectives on my force to the job, but they may fall down, and I’m not taking any chances. Come on, young feller. We’ll make this pinch ourselves.”
“Great!” exclaimed Gale, a gleam of malicious satisfaction in his eyes. “I’ll enjoy taking an active part in the arrest, chief. I’m just as anxious as you are to see that chesty Camera Chap laugh out of the other side of his mouth. I’ve got several old scores to settle with him, and I wouldn’t miss this opportunity for a mint of money.”
They waited until Hawley was half a block ahead, then they crossed to the opposite sidewalk and followed him cautiously up Main Street, taking care to keep far enough back to prevent his recognizing them in case he should glance behind him.
But this precaution proved unnecessary, for the Camera Chap did not once turn his head in their direction. Apparently blissfully unconscious of the fact that he was being shadowed, he kept right on until he reached the white, domed building which housed the local government of Oldham.[Pg 47]
Here he halted and carefully surveyed the edifice, shifting his position several times as though he had difficulty in making up his mind which viewpoint would best serve his purpose.
Gale and the chief of police had ducked inside the doorway of a store. From this place of concealment they watched him closely, and a grunt of joyous anticipation came from Hodgins as they saw him remove the paper wrapping of the package in his hand and reveal a film camera.
“What did I tell you!” Gale whispered exultantly. “I knew I was right about the contents of that package. In another minute or so he’ll have snapshotted himself into jail.”
“He’s taken the picture already,” growled Hodgins. “I just seen him turn that little knob at the side of his camera; and he’s got the confounded thing pointed straight at the city hall. That’s plenty good enough for me.”
He was about to step out of the doorway, but Gale hastily pulled him back.
“Hold on, chief,” he whispered, smiling at the policeman’s ignorance of photography. “He hasn’t taken the picture yet. He’s merely focusing, and the law doesn’t forbid that. Wait until he squeezes the bulb and exposes the film. Then we’ll have the goods on him.
“And say, chief,” he added eagerly, “let me have a few words with him before you place him under arrest, will you?”
“Huh! What do you want to say to him?” growled Hodgins suspiciously.
Gale smiled sardonically. “I just want to have a little fun at his expense, that’s all. It’ll be great sport to kid him. It can’t possibly do any harm—there’s no danger of his getting away, so please do me that favor, will you?”
The Camera Chap seemed to be having some trouble in getting a satisfactory focus. He fidgeted with his camera for several minutes before he was quite content with the reflection in the view finder. But at last he was ready to take the picture, and there was a faint clicking sound as he squeezed the bulb.
The noises of the street, of course, prevented Gale from hearing this click; but he saw Hawley’s fingers compress the rubber bulb, and he knew that the psychological moment had arrived.
Stepping out from his place of concealment, he confronted the Camera Chap just as that young man was in the act of restoring his photographic apparatus to its original paper wrapping.
If Gale had loved Hawley like an only brother, his face could not have been more expressive of cordiality as he advanced toward the latter with hand outstretched.
“Well, if it isn’t good old Hawley, as large as life!” he exclaimed effusively. “My dear fellow, this certainly is a pleasant surprise.”
The Camera Chap looked startled. “Hello, Gale,” he said nervously, apparently failing to see the other’s outstretched hand. “This meeting is a surprise to me, too. But I can’t stop to talk now. I’m in a big hurry. He was about to move on, but Gale detained him by clutching his coat sleeve.
“Don’t be in such a rush, old fellow,” he said pleasantly. “Surely you can spare a couple of minutes. There are so many things I want to say to you. In the first place, what on earth are you doing in Oldham?[Pg 48]”
“I am taking a little vacation,” Hawley replied, trying to wrench his arm free from Gale’s detaining grasp.
“Is that so? That’s queer. I’m taking a little vacation, too,” said Gale. “My folks live in this town, you know. But say, old man, I’ve had a rare piece of luck. I’ve accidentally stumbled across a rattling good yarn which I’m going to put on the wire in a little while. The New YorkDaily Newswill be tickled to death to get it.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Hawley, making another ineffectual attempt to free his imprisoned coat sleeve. “But really, Gale, I must be going. I’ll see you again some other time.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” Gale protested. “I must say, Hawley, you’re not a bit sociable to-day. I want to tell you about this story I’ve had the luck to pick up. It’s a peach; and I think you’ll be interested. It’s about the arrest of a well-known New York newspaper man,” he went on, with a sardonic laugh. “A fellow in your own line, Hawley. They’re going to send him to jail for six months.”
Never had Gale seen the Camera Chap more panic-stricken than he appeared now.
“Let me go!” he gasped. “What the deuce are you holding on to me like that for? I tell you I’ve got to get away. I’ve got an important engagement.”
“Just a minute, old chap,” said Gale softly, taking a tighter hold on his victim’s sleeve. “I really can’t let you go until I’ve told you how very glad I am to see you.
“By the way,” he added, pointing to the camera in Hawley’s hand, “I see you’ve been doing a little work during your vacation, too. Did you get a good picture?”
“Oh, no,” Hawley replied nervously. “I didn’t take a picture at all. I——”
He didn’t finish the sentence; for just then some one stepped up behind him, and a big hand clutched him by the coat collar. “You lie!” a hoarse voice bellowed. “You miserable whelp, you’re caught with the goods this time.”
The large hand and the hoarse oath both belonged, of course, to Chief of Police Hodgins. As he grabbed the Camera Chap, the six plain-clothes men who had been lying in ambush pounced out of their various hiding places and surrounded the prisoner.
The latter smiled grimly as he glanced swiftly around at this circle of scowling faces.
“Gee whiz!” he exclaimed. “You’re certainly taking no chances on my getting away, chief. If I were a murderer or a desperate bank burglar I could scarcely expect a bigger bodyguard.”
“You’re worse than a murderer or a bank burglar,” growled Hodgins. “And you’d better keep your mouth closed, or we’ll close it for you.”
He snatched the camera from the prisoner’s hand and snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. He had no fear of Hawley’s making his escape; but he used the handcuffs because he wished to make things as unpleasant as possible for that young man.
As they started to march their captive down Main Street, Gale, walking close beside the Camera Chap, laughed like a villain in a melodrama.
“Without exaggeration, my dear Hawley,” he chuckled, “this is quite the happiest day of my life.[Pg 49]”
It was not until two hours after the Camera Chap’s arrest that his friend, Fred Carroll, learned of it.
The proprietor of theBulletin, returning to his office after his tryst with Melba Gale, was just seating himself at his desk when the telephone claimed his attention. It was the voice of Parsons, his police reporter, which came to him over the wire.
“Is that you, Mr. Carroll?” said the reporter. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past two hours. They’ve arrested your friend, Mr. Hawley. They’re just taking him to court now.”
“The deuce you say!” exclaimed the proprietor of theBulletin. “What have they got him for?”
“Breaking the new anticamera law. I’m afraid he’s in bad, too, sir. Looks as if they’ve got him dead to rights. He took a photograph on the street outside the city hall, and they caught him at it. Of course, Hodgins will make the most of this opportunity to get square.”
“Suffering Cæsar!” muttered Carroll, a troubled look on his face. “What magistrate are they taking him before, Parsons?”
“Judge Wall, sir.”
“Wall!” The troubled look on Carroll’s face deepened. “He’s the biggest grouch on the bench, and a personal friend of Hodgins. Poor old Hawley! I’m afraid they’ll give him the limit. All right, Parsons, I’ll be right over. We must see what we can do.”
As he hurried to court, Carroll said to himself, with a frown: “The reckless chump! What the dickens did he want with that picture, when he knew that telegram was a fake? I suppose that was the big laugh he promised me. He made up his mind that he’d get that snapshot, anyway, just to show those fellows how little he was afraid of them. Unfortunately, though, it looks as if they’ve turned the laugh on him. I wish I’d guessed what he was going to do, so that I could have persuaded him not to take such a desperate chance.”
Although Carroll lost no time in getting to the courtroom, the Camera Chap was already being arraigned when he arrived there. Chief Hodgins was in such a fever of impatience to wreak his vengeance upon that young man that he had prevailed upon his honor to try the case ahead of several other less important cases which, according to the regular order, should have preceded it.
News of Hawley’s arrest evidently had traveled fast, for Carroll recognized in the courtroom several men whose presence there, he felt sure, was prompted solely by a desire to see the Camera Chap sentenced to six months in the county jail.
Prominent among these was old Delancey Gale, who stood beside his son, within the railed inclosure in front of the magistrate’s desk—a privilege accorded to representatives of the press—stroking his white, mutton-chop whiskers and shaking his head deprecatingly every time his gaze rested upon the prisoner’s smiling countenance, as though such depravity as he saw there was almost past his comprehension.
Most of the other men in the spectators’ benches were politicians—members of the ring against which theBulletinwas waging war. They had no grievance against Hawley personally, but they regarded his prosecution as a blow at Carroll and his newspaper, and therefore they had come there with thumbs down.[Pg 50]
As the proprietor of theBulletinentered the courtroom, he was greeted by vindictive scowls from this group. One had only to glance at their faces to realize how intensely bitter was their feeling toward this young New Yorker who had done—and was still doing—his level best to brand them as the grafters they were.
But their scowls were quickly succeeded by friendly smiles as a burly, rawboned man of middle age, whose countenance was set in grim lines, entered the courtroom close on the heels of Carroll, stepped pompously up to the bench, and took a seat beside the magistrate without waiting for an invitation to do so.
The newcomer was the Honorable Martin Henkle, mayor of Oldham, and the most powerful political boss that town had ever known.
Mayor Henkle was not in the habit of gracing the police court with his presence; but so great was his interest in this case that he had adjourned an important hearing at the city hall in order to attend the trial.
The mayor’s visit was a source of great gratification to Chief Hodgins. Since theBulletin’spublication of those painful snapshots showing that corpulent official in a somnolent pose, there had been a marked coolness between the mayor and the head of the police department.
While the former had not carried out his threat to remove the latter from office, he had let it be plainly seen that Hodgins was in great disfavor at the city hall. Consequently the police chief was glad now to have the mayor present to witness his triumph over the Camera Chap. He felt confident that this arrest would go a long way toward restoring him to favor.
It did not take Chief Hodgins long to present his evidence against Hawley.
With a note of pride in his voice, he told the court how by his vigilance and alertness he had been successful in catching the defendant “red-handed,” in the act of taking a photograph on a public highway of Oldham.
“And I hope, your honor,” the chief concluded, “that you’ll see fit to make an example of the rascal; for if ever there was a desperate character, he’s one. Just see how he stands there grinnin’ now—right in your honor’s face.”
His honor, who was a dyspeptic-looking little man with a peppery temper, glared at the prisoner, and inwardly resolved that he would “give him something to grin about” in a little while.
Gale and the six detectives gave testimony corroborating that of the chief of police regarding the taking of the photograph.
Everybody in the courtroom, including Fred Carroll, thought that the case against the Camera Chap was a strong one, and wondered why the latter didn’t manifest more concern as to the outcome.
Hawley’s face continued to wear a cheerful smile as he listened to the evidence, and this smile expanded every time his gaze rested on the camera reposing on the magistrate’s desk, which Chief Hodgins had offered as an exhibit.
“You say that a photograph was taken,” the magistrate suddenly remarked. “Have you the picture, chief?”
“I have the negative, your honor,” Hodgins replied promptly.
As he spoke, he glanced swiftly at the Camera Chap, whose face had suddenly lost its smile, and now wore an expression of mingled indignation and amazement.[Pg 51]
“In order to make the evidence as complete as possible, your honor,” the chief of police went on, “I took the roll of film from this fellow’s camera, in the presence of witnesses, and had it developed. The result was this picture of the city hall, which I now offer in evidence.”
As Hodgins handed the negative to the magistrate, Hawley’s gaze traveled from the incriminating strip of gelatin to the face of the younger Gale.
On that countenance he saw an expression which fully enlightened him as to who was responsible for this piece of manufactured evidence—an expression half triumphant, half anxious.
“What a chump I was not to have foreseen that he’d do that,” he mused ruefully. “I guess this isn’t going to be such a ripping good joke, after all. It looks very much now as if I’m going to be engaged for the next six months in the unprofitable pastime of making large stones into little ones.”
TO BE CONTINUED.
In India, elephants are used for many purposes, but principally for carrying heavy loads from one part of the country to another. The Indian government employ a number of them, especially for their artillery.
These elephants are very particular about their rights. For instance, when formed up on parade, the elephant who has served longest takes the right of the rank, the others forming up in succession, according to their seniority, just like soldiers. Sometimes, either by accident or design, an elephant will take up a position to which he has no claim, when there is at once a great commotion, his comrades insisting upon his retiring to his proper place.
With such intelligent animals, it is therefore little to be wondered at that punishments for grave offenses are generally preceded by a court-martial in precisely the same manner as with soldiers.
One such scene of trial and punishment of an elephant guilty of murder is thus described by an eye witness, a military officer:
“The prisoner, with eyes filled with tears, was marched in front of us, between two other elephants. Along with them came all the witnesses. The president, Major C——, read the charge: ‘Elephant Abdul is charged with causing the death of Syce Ramboucles by catching him by the legs with his trunk and beating his brains out against the wall of the grain hut.’
“The first witness called deposed that he was in the lines at twelve o’clock, seeing the elephants fed. When the trumpeter sounded ‘feed,’ he saw Syce Ramboucles run with a bag of grain toward Elephant Abdul. At this time all the other elephants were fed, consequently Syce Ramboucles was late in feeding Elephant Abdul. The witness ordered the syce to hurry, but the latter did not seem to move any quicker. As soon as he approached, Elephant Abdul seized him by the legs and dashed his head against the little grain hut. Eight syces gave similar statements.
“When they had finished, the president, who had kept his head down the whole time, with the elephant’s defaulter sheet in front of him, suddenly looked up and glared at the prisoner. Seeing the elephant’s eyes swimming in tears, he said:[Pg 52]
“‘It’s no use; that game won’t do. I am quite accustomed to see tears, and never take any notice of them. I see by this defaulter book that you have been guilty of no fewer than sixteen crimes of injuring people, and I have not the slightest compassion for you.’
“The members of the court-martial all agreed with him, and, after a short adjournment, found Abdul guilty, and sentenced him to fifty lashes and two years’ imprisonment.”
A few days later the first part of the sentence was carried out.
The whole battery was drawn up in a square, fourteen elephants forming one side and the noncommissioned officers and men the other three sides. In the center were two huge elephants, the prisoner Abdul, and the senior elephant, to whom the task of inflicting punishment always falls. Besides these two elephants, all the officers of the battery, the provosts, the brigade major, and the doctor, were in the center, and elephants numbers two and three stood on either flank, in case the prisoner might try to escape. Four great iron pegs were driven into the ground, to each of which one of the prisoner’s legs was chained. The senior elephant, Lalla No. 1, stood by, with a huge cable chain fastened around her trunk, waiting further orders.
When all was pronounced ready, the doctor, who stood with a watch in his hand, gave the signal to begin. Lalla raised her trunk in the air, gave it two turns, and down came the cable with terrific force on Abdul’s back. A loud thud was heard, followed by an unearthly roar from the unfortunate Abdul.
Again the doctor gave the signal, and down came the cable with terrific force, causing more roaring. Again and again it came down, until the full number of lashes were given, after which the prisoner was marched back to his quarters, trembling from head to foot, and having a few lumps on his back as the result of the lashing. The parade was then dismissed, and things went on as usual.
Among the adventures which befell a young engineer a short time back, was the perilous one of falling down the shaft of a mine. The shaft was not in use during the winter, but as it was essential to have it in order before spring, the young engineer determined to examine it.
There were no ladders to this particular shaft, and he elected to be lowered by the windlass. It was necessary, therefore, to hold on tightly to the rope, keeping one foot in a loop at the end. He settled himself firmly and swung off, the rope in his right hand and a candle in his left.
The shaft was about three hundred feet deep, and he was halfway down when he leaned forward to examine the wall of the shaft, and as he did so his foot shot out from the noose. It was coated with ice. The candle was jerked out of his left hand, while his right slipped down the icy rope like lightning, and closed on it with a death grip.
Then he felt himself swinging by one hand to the end of the rope and instinctively reached up to the loop with the other, only to find it a smooth coat of ice which gave scarcely any hold. He could never cling there long enough to be hauled back to the mouth of the shaft, even if he[Pg 53]should succeed in making the men hear his cry for help.
The shaft was pitch dark, and it was therefore impossible to judge his rate of descent, as he hung—literally between life and death—with every faculty strained to the one act of clinging to the rope.
His hands were numb with cold and little by little he felt them slipping. Another moment and he went.
But not far, for when he let go he was not three feet from the bottom of the shaft. All the same he felt decidedly shaky as he groped about for his lost candle, which he found, and then coolly completed the exploration for which he had descended.
A temperance orator was describing to his audience how his own life had been influenced by total abstinence.
“You know,” said he, “that I am chief of my department. Three years ago there were two men in our office who held positions superior to mine. One was dismissed through drunkenness; the other was led into crime, and is now serving a long term of imprisonment, and all through the influence of strong drink. Now, what I ask,” he cried, growing eloquent, “what has raised me to my present high position?”
“Drink!” was the vociferous but unexpected reply, which he received from a number of the audience.
His five-year-old boy was perched on his knee, and the fond father gazed at him with eyes that beamed with paternal pride.
“Papa”—pointing out of the window—“what are those men doing over there?”
“Building a house, my son.”
“Why?”
“Because they are paid to do it.”
“Who pays them for doing it?”
“The man who is putting the house up.”
“What does he pay ’em for?”
“For building the house.”
“Why?”
“Because—well, because they would not build the house if he did not pay them.”
“What does the man want the house for?”
The paternal smile became rigid.
“To live in.”
“Hasn’t he got a house to live in?”
“Oh, yes!”
“What does he want another one for?”
“Oh, for other people to live in.”
“What other people?”
“Oh, men and women and little boys and girls.”
“Why do they want to live in the house?”
“Well, they must live somewhere.”
“Who?”
“The people.”
“What people?”
“Any people.”
“Why?”
At this juncture the innocent, prattling child saw a firm hand descend, and hastily retreated in time to prevent a collision.[Pg 54]
[Pg 55]
A safety pocket to hold a watch securely is a feature of a new apron for workmen.
A device for removing tires from wagon wheels has been invented that exerts a pull exceeding a ton, yet weighs less than twenty-five pounds.
The principle of the automatic drinking fountain has been applied to a water cooler by the invention of a bubbling attachment.
Flies can enter a garbage can that a New York man has patented, but as they try to get out, they are caught in a wire trap, which can be detached and the insects destroyed.
A new clamp to hold a cover on a milk bottle also serves as a handle to carry the bottle.
Bryan Wise, nineteen years old, of Crane, Mo., will get his first hair cut when William Jennings Bryan becomes president.
“Then his hair will grow so long that he will stumble over it,” the thoughtful reader may surmise; but be that as it may, Bryan Wise, son of a Crane, Mo., brakeman, has for nineteen years been a total stranger to the barber’s chair, and, having stood the “gaff” for so long a time, it looks as though he will continue to do so. At present his hair touches his waist when it is “undone,” but he wears it in a tight knot at the back of his head.
The father of the long-haired youth was and continues to be a great admirer of the former secretary of state, and he has every faith that in the course of time his son will have the opportunity to have his hair cut off.
Sometimes a sneeze can do more damage than ordinarily. W. H. Wallingford, an automobile salesman of Portland, Ore., will testify to this.
Wallingford was talking to a “prospect” in an auto salesroom. During his argument in favor of the car he was selling, Wallingford raised an arm above his head and leaned it against a door casing. Then the sneeze came—and it came so suddenly Wallingford didn’t have time to “get set” for it. His head and shoulders were jerked forward and downward when the ker-choo sounded, and the arm was dislocated at the shoulder socket. A physician reset it, and Wallingford, after a few days of rest, will be back on the job.
On wire and canvas cots, on wooden benches, and not infrequently on tiled floors, hundreds of men sleep each night on Ellis Island, in New York City. These men are not immigrants, although many, but by no means most, of them are aliens. They are homeless, hungry men, who have neither work nor the wherewithal to live, a condition that is in dire contrast to the comfortable and happy existence of those who live in the small cities and towns of our land, but one that for months has been experienced by thousands of unfortunates in our metropolitan centers.[Pg 56]
The island has been thrown open to them ungrudgingly, first because of the sympathetic understanding of Commissioner Frederic C. Howe, and, second, because the sudden fall in immigration has left unoccupied a great many rooms and hundreds of cots previously needed for those who came, as many of these men came, to the Land of Promise.
You do not have to look closely at these men to see how poorly dressed they are; but, if you were to spend a night with them, you would find that beneath their soiled and wretched outer covering there is no clothing, and that the flesh, that is weak, in many cases is sore and infected and in need of care. For with them underwear long since has become a bitter memory of better days, and their feet are without socks and their boots without soles.
Now, these men are not lazy men. Let there be no misunderstanding as to that. Any one can satisfy himself on that score by announcing that he needs a man to work. He will be surrounded by a hundred men, who will not merely clamor for the job, but will actually beg for it. Some time ago twenty men were needed to cut ice. It was cold work, in cold season, but scores of men stepped forward when the call was made, and not one of them had a stitch of underclothing to his body! The employment agent who engaged the number needed supplied them with warm garments out of sheer pity for them.
Here is what Commissioner Howe has to say of them:
“The unemployed men have been coming to Ellis Island for the past five months. The numbers for the last two months have averaged between seven hundred and eight hundred each night. The men are perfectly orderly, and are most grateful for the opportunity offered them for sleeping some place other than in the parks, under the bridges, or any other such places as are open to them. They required no policing, and have not given us a bit of trouble in that time. A large percentage of them rush eagerly to the bathroom as soon as they arrive at the island. They maintain barbers and clothes menders to keep in good condition, and are, so far as I can judge, making every possible effort to retain their self-respect under terrible conditions.
“It is almost complete presumption to my mind in favor of a man if he is willing to sleep night after night on a hard wood floor, without any covering over him, and that is what many of the men have been doing. They get what little food they have as best they can, and the great majority of them are in a state of chronic hunger. It seems to me a far greater reflection upon this rich city that these men should be left wholly to their own fate than it is upon the men themselves, for they cannot create their own employment; many of them are in rags, and do not present a good appearance, and some of them are so weak and enfeebled by long exposure that they are hardly in position to help themselves.”
It was to learn something of these men at first hand that a reporter, dressed as one of them, and unshaved and of sorry appearance, joined their company for one never-to-be-forgotten night on the island. But the suf[Pg 57]fering and discomfort were more than made up for by the fact that, although these were rough men, in the privacy of the room in which we slept—except for some swearing—there was not spoken one word that any woman might not have heard. It is really a splendid thing to be able to say that.
These unfortunate men say they are much happier within the hospitable halls of Ellis Island than they ever could be at the municipal lodging institutions, which they criticize very unfavorably and with various reasons, among their objections being too many unnecessary questions asked, entirely too much work expected for the amount of assistance given, and many times no food at all when food is due; in other words, they pronounce organized charity, as exemplified in New York, a proved failure so far as it benefits those for whom it is supposed to be carried on.
If it hadn’t been for a wild bull, which has the habit of seeing red, in a pasture they crossed, two Kansas schoolma’ams, Miss Edna R. Johnson and Miss Lillian Jaggar, who are hiking on foot overland from Vernon, Kan., to Pueblo, Col., would not be spending a week in Dodge City recuperating before continuing their journey.
The bull chased the two young school-teachers across a rolling pasture a half mile when they rolled to safety under a high barbed-wire fence.
Probably nothing would have occurred if the girls had not worn sweaters—red sweaters. But they did not think of angry bulls in mapping their tramp.
The bull charged up until his shoulders hit the wire, and then stopped. But his bellows urged the girls to renewed efforts, and they raced on. A farmer boy met them and offered them protection. They took it gladly.
They managed to get to Dodge City, but there they decided to remain until their shattered nerves were restored. Hereafter, the girls say, they will tramp along in the dusty road. No more pastures will entice them. They have been tramping for two weeks and had covered over three hundred miles without having ridden a foot of the way.
Fifteen-year-old Harold Dewey Howard, son of Mrs. Alice Howard, of Baker, Ore., checked a runaway team belonging to H. E. Jordan, seizing the animals by the bits and being dragged for nearly one hundred feet before he was shaken loose. Young Howard was slightly bruised, but he brought the horses to a standstill.
There was recently held at Dubuque, Iowa, a meeting of shippers from eight Mississippi Valley States for the purpose of restoring transportation on “The Father of Waters.” The cities represented by active delegates were St. Paul, Minneapolis, La Crosse, Winona, Galena, Dubuque, Burlington, Quincy, Hannibal, Rapid City, East St. Louis, New Orleans, and Cincinnati.
President Thomas Wilkinson, of Burlington, Iowa, was authorized to appoint an energetic working committee to prepare a plan or system for the practical utilization of the valley’s great water highway to meet the demands of commerce occasioned by the completion of the Panama Canal and other transportation exigencies. It is said[Pg 58]the greatest enthusiasm exists among the large producers and shippers of the valley over the prospective resumption of river traffic, and that already many encouraging offers have been received by those at the heads of the enterprise.
The floodtide of the Mississippi River traffic under the old system was reached July 4, 1870, when theRobert E. Leepushed its nose against the St. Louis wharf at the conclusion of its great race with theNatchez. Old rivermen say that almost from that hour they could detect the falling off of the trade once so generously given the big “river palaces.”
TheLeebeat theNatchezinto St. Louis six hours and thirty-six minutes. Both steamers cleared the New Orleans wharf at about five p. m. June 30th. The race was fairly even until they got close to St. Louis. Jesse T. Jamison and Enoch King were in theLee’spilothouse. They had taken charge of the wheel at Cairo, and held their long trick clear into St. Louis.
At Devil’s Island a dense fog settled on the river. There were no lighthouses then, no electric flash lights to sweep out over the river. TheNatchezwas hanging on close. Many rivermen of that day insisted that under certain conditions she was a much swifter boat than theLee.
As night came on, all the world was black. “You could almost feel it,” graphically observed a man who was on theLee. “Jamison looked across at his mate handling the other side of the big wheel. ‘We’ll keep going,’ he said. ‘Of course,’ replied King. The pilot’s decision in the old river days was the law.”
TheLeewas drawing six feet. Leadsmen were out on the fo’castle all night taking soundings. The boat never stopped in all that gloom. Jamison said, many years afterward, that it was a harder ordeal on his nerves than if he had been fighting all night on a battle line. TheNatcheztied up during the worst part of the fog, and she had good pilots, too.
The winning boat was welcomed into St. Louis by salvos of artillery at Jefferson barracks, and hundreds of steamers and tugs black with people. Some of these traveled many miles downstream to greet the victor, who easily outdistanced all of them in the run to the city. The wharf boats all along the great levee were crowded with cheering people. The event made theLeethe most popular boat on the river, and every member of her hardworking crew became a hero.
In a recent talk about the vanished glories of the big stream, J. G. van Cleve, a merchant of Macon, Mo., said:
“The commercial lifeblood of the city was represented in the activity along the levee. The man who has never made a trip down the Mississippi River in the real steamboat days has lost a page of life that would have contributed to his love of country.
“The big Anchor Line steamers for Grand Tower, Cairo, Memphis, and Vicksburg were scheduled to leave the St. Louis wharf at five p. m., but they rarely got under way before nine or ten. The rules seemed to be to hold the boat as long as there were offerings of freight, and it looked like the shipping clerks in the big wholesale houses on Second and Main Streets didn’t begin to get busy until late in the afternoon. Then wide two-wheeled drays and trucks would clatter down the long rock levee like an army of invasion. It was a lively[Pg 59]sight. Officers would dart helter-skelter, directing teamsters where to go, and saying things anent their tardiness; the teamsters would swear at their mules, and the mates would cuss the roustabouts. Everybody seemed to have a safe target for his wrath, and nobody took offense. It was all a part of the game.
“By and by, long after supper, the last dray of freight would roar across the wharf bridge, an army of black men would seize the stuff almost before the team stopped, the mud valves would growl out great clouds of steam forward to the paddle wheels, and some one aloft—generally the captain—would pull the great bell for the third time. That was the signal to cast off the hawsers and run in the gang plank. Then the big craft, loaded nearly to the water’s edge amidships, would slowly drift out into the river, stern foremost.
“When the line of boats was cleared, a seeming haphazard concert of small bells and baby whistles below, was responded to by long, fierce exhausts, spouting geyser-like from the steam pipes just forward of the wheelhouse. The din of the bells and whistles, which nobody on earth but the engineers could have deciphered, was kept up until the boat had slowly turned around and headed south. The long voyage had begun. Then the negro roustabouts, scattered around on coffee sacks and hemp bales, started their evening musicale: