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so that a partial passenger service was maintained over the line. Time and again the boys made the short trip to the bridge and intended to keep a sharp look-out all night.

About nine o'clock they were headed for the high, ghost-like crisscross of steel, when they brought up short, as an ominous, rumbling roar sounded above the wind. Twothree perhaps a half dozen seconds they listened to the dull thundering sound. Then in a maze of fear and wonder, they heard the terrifying crash of breaking steel and as if some immense moving body were piling up in a yawning abyss.

Jerry guessed at once that an avalanche had slid from the mountain-side, far above, and that now the link across the gorge was nothing more than a twisted mass of steel, intermingled with thousands and thousands of tons of snow, packed like ice far down in the dark depths. He expressed his fears to Lee, and they were confirmed when, a few minutes later, the two lads worked their way to where the anchor-irons of the bridge should be, and found nothing more than broken and twisted girders hanging over the chasm.

Now, neither boy thought of what had occurred, but of what might occur if a passenger-train should come tearing along the track. Danger-signals must be set, well away from the gorge on both sides, and at

once.

Each carried a small huntsman's axe, plenty of matches, and a canteen full of kerosene which would greatly simplify starting a fire. A pile of blazing pine-branches heaped up between the rails could be seen for quite a distance, and no engineer would run over them. To set a fiery signal several hundred yards back on the track from where the quick-thinking pair were talking would be a comparatively easy task. But to cross the ravine and build a fire on the opposite side was a problem.

Jerry studied a moment, then came out with his plan. "Lee!" he shouted, so as to make himself heard, "I'll try and work my way across by hanging onto the broken bridge-stringers. You stay on this side."

Right away Lee started putting up a stiff objection. "No wanta stay here 'lone! Devil-devils catchee me, sure! Me hear um all time! Go, 'Moan-n-n-n! Moan-n-n!'" "That's the wind and creaking branches," Jerry explained. Then he talked for a good five minutes before the young Chinese consented to the plan.

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Lee was feeding with dry branches a crackling blaze between the rails a scant quarter of a mile from the gorge, when he suddenly gave a startled "Ki yi!" and straightened up, his black eyes fixing on a shadowy object showing but dimly in the firelight. Wider and wider open grew the almond eyes, and closer and closer came the slow-moving figure until at last Jerry Kimball painfully hobbled to Lee's side, then slumped down in the snow.

A few seconds only he rested before panting an explanation. "Gosh! Near broke my neck!" he gasped, trying to smile. "The gorge is a terror! Don't b'lieve a cat could get down alive! I made it for about fifty feet, then-well-thought the world had come to an end. After a bit I figured it was only a sprained ankle, and somehow managed to work my way up again. Soon as I could, I started here, crawlin' most of the way and hobblin' the balance. I can't use skis, so I guess it's up to you to set the other signal. You can ski down the mountain, circle the gorge, then go up the other side to the track. I'll keep the fire goin' here, somehow."

"Huh! Was-s-s that you say?" Lee's voice was almost a wail. "Me go way in dark! No! No, you make mistake! Me no flaid, but-devil-devils all lound. Evely place! Melican boy no seeum devil-devils. China boy seeum all time. Him evely place and go long with wolves. I know! You say same all Melican boy say-help others. Velly good idea! When daylight come, me go! Huh?"

Jerry slowly arose. "No! No, Lee! Not to-morrow! Right away! Now!"

Lee's yellow face turned about as pale as it is possible for one of his race to turn, before he half choked with excuses. If the wolves did n't devour him, the Chinese devildevils would surely lead him into some deadly pitfall, and anyway the trains had stopped running. Jerry argued and pleaded, then made for the other boy's skis.

"Hey! Where you go?" Lee yelled, looking dubiously at the limping figure.

"To set the signal," Jerry called back.

That was enough for Lee, and he sprang forward. "No! you no go flifty feet 'fore fall down and no get up. Me catchum Melican boy way quick, soon! Me go! You stay here!"

There was a very woe-begone droop at the corners of Lee's mouth, and as he mounted his skis and started off, his "Good-bly!" came

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"HE KEPT ON, WITH BUT ONE IDEA IN HIS MIND-TO SET THE SIGNAL"

floating back in a decidedly mournful tone. Still, the spirit to do something for others was growing fast within him. No one knew better than he that danger lay ahead. He might wander around in the night and storm for many hours, then sink down exhausted. Again, he might be caught beneath a falling pine or crushed to death by a dreaded avalanche. And there was always danger of skiing over some high cliff, and then-as he put it to himself the wolves!

Nevertheless he kept on, with but one idea in his mind to set the signal that would stop all trains. Time and again he ran headon against low branches and tree-trunks. Time and again he took bad tumbles, and often was forced to stop and catch his breath. But he kept going downhill, and thanked Jerry aloud for persuading him to become so expert on skis.

More than a mile below, the gorge opened out into a deep cañon, where the stream could be forded. It was toward this ford that Lee made his way, holding his course more by instinct than woodcraft. On he traveled, rod after rod, and then, as he mounted his skis after a hard fall, his heart seemed fairly to jump into his throat. Had n't he seen a big dark object slip behind a tree almost within reach of his hand? Of course he had! And once more he thought of the wolves.

The Lee Fat of a half-hour before would probably have reckoned only on his own safety and climbed a tree. The Lee Fat of the moment had his mind on others, so he decided to keep plodding onward. In that respect he was like an American boy. Every few seconds, now, he caught sight of the shadowy figure, and his imaginative mind pictured more than a score of big, gaunt beasts, only waiting for him to take another tumble.

Finally he did take a tumble, a nasty one, the result of skiing against a snow-covered stump; then he lay half stunned and partly buried in a deep drift. It seemed to him only an instant before a cold muzzle touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes, thinking that in a moment he would feel long, sharp fangs at his throat. His mind was still muddled from the fall, and he thought the roar of the wind the howl of angry beasts, fighting over their prey. Perhaps he would not be attacked if on his feet, so he attempted to rise. His cheek again came in contact with the cold muzzle, which made him drop back in the snow.

Then, strange as it may seem, Lee Fat began to talk. In fact to plead, but more for others than for himself-those on a passenger-train, which, although quite a distance off, was nevertheless bucking its way toward Thundering Fork gorge. "Please, Mister Wolves, let me go set signal-fire!" he choked. Then, as his head cleared, his voice became stronger. "Pletty soon, bimeby, quick, come along plassenger-tlain! After I fix signal, you eata me, I no care! Anyway, now I heap tough! When walk while, be heap tender. Oh please, Mister Wolves, you let me go, for I want to be all same Melican boy!"

In this strain, young Lee Fat talked on for a full two minutes; then, when he felt a big moist tongue lick his cheeks, he gave a gasping cry and opened his eyes. Was this to be the end? He thought so. Still, when he did not feel the strength of powerful jaws, but only the pressure of a big tongue seemingly licking his face in a friendly manner, he said to himself, "Ki yi! Me talkum into it!"

Little by little the slanting eyes opened wider and still wider, and as the snow-covered boy scrambled to his feet he gave a loud cry, for the big furry figure that had been standing over him was the old prospector's dog, Skookum. "Ay! Ki yi! Sklookum!" Lee yelled, throwing his arms around the animal's shaggy neck. "You my fliend! Me all same man with gun! Wolves him no come now! Me no more flaid! No care even for Chinese devil-devils! Come long!"

A short breathing-spell and they were off. The stream was crossed, and even though Lee waded through the icy water waist-deep, he did not mind the cold. Now the steep ascent was started, and up, always up, they zigzagged, Skookum oftentimes in the lead.

Suddenly, Lee stopped short and pricked up his ears. Was that a locomotive whistle or the wind moaning through the pinebranches? He listened and caught the sound again, this time clearer. The train might be near or far, he could not tell, for the track turned and twisted through the cañon. Nevertheless, in those mournful sounds was a call for more speed.

In a moment the skis were again being swung forward and upward in lengthy, regular sweeps. Never before had the lad with yellow ancestors taken a mountain-side at such a fast clip. And there was sufficient reason that he should hasten, for a long passengertrain with three locomotives was thundering over the snow-covered rails. Not like a fast

express, for the going was hard; still, rolling Still, he was slow in getting on his feet and onward, steadily, surely.

Panting, sweating, hurrying, Lee kept plodding ahead. A score of times his heart was in his throat when he fancied that he could hear a locomotive puffing. His face was bleeding from a dozen scratches and his lungs seemed afire when he swung around a sharp turn and made out a dim, circular light that pierced the falling snow. "Headlight!" he gasped. "Now I be too late? Ki yi!" But there would be no giving up until the train. had really rumbled by. Upward, faster and still faster he climbed, until he knew the track could not be far off.

The headlight came nearer and still nearer, and now it seemed to Lee nothing more than an immense yellow eye that belonged to one of his Chinese devil-devils.

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somewhat muddled as he frantically started to wave a stop-signal.

There was no possibility of stopping the train until part or perhaps all of it rolled by the spot where he was standing. But the only thing that concerned him was whether his signal had been seen. Well, he had done his best, and he jumped from the track and hugged the side of the cut just as the screech of a whistle sounded for all the engineers to shut off steam and throw on the brakes.

Lee Fat had been in time, and the trainmen found him sitting in the snow, talking to Skookum. A few seconds later he was sputtering, coughing, and laughing as he told his story; then, before he had fairly caught his breath, he broke out: "Why for you loaf here? Bling heap plenty lope and light! We closs gorge and see how get along my fliend Jerry!"

"How you get along plardner?" was his greeting, when, an hour later, he and several volunteers floundered through the snow to Jerry Kimball, feeding the blazing signalfire.

Alphabet Song

COUNTRIES WE KNOW

AMERICA begins with A,

Then comes brave Belgium with a B,
C stands for China, well-known land,
Where people feast on rice and tea;
Next, D for Denmark on the sea,

And E for England, staunch and strong;
Then F for thrifty France, and G
For Greece we read about in song;

H next for Holland, small, but firm;
And I for sunny Italy.

J for Japan, a garden land,

K for Korea across the sea;

Then L for Lithuania,

And M for stormy Mexico;

Norway the land of fish, with N,
A place you may not know, with O,
Called Orange River Colony; next,
For Persia, P, where pearls are found;
Queensland, of course, begins with Q;
For Russia, R, where furs abound;
Sweden and Spain begin with S,
And Turkey follows, with a T,

Then next comes U for Uruguay;

Venezuela with a V,

West Indies with a W. X names no country near or far,
But Yucatan with Y, and Z for Zululand and Zanzibar.

Kitty Parsons.

By NELSON ROBINS

FIDDLER'S HILL, the home of the Mallory's, stood upon the brow of a hill overlooking the York River at a point where the river attains a width of nearly eleven miles. Except in very clear weather, when the bluffs on the opposite side are plainly seen, one might imagine that the old house overlooked Chesapeake Bay itself. First came the green lawn, which ran down to the cove; across the cove was a marsh, covered with vivid green sedge and ornamented at intervals with tall pines; and then the river, stretching mile upon mile to the James City County shore. On the left of Fiddler's Hill plantation, Fiddler's Creek ran under the hill on which the Mallory home stood. On the right, five miles up the river, Cedar Bush Creek formed another natural boundary to the plantation. Inland, the plantation was bounded by an enormous swamp, which separated Fiddler's Hill from all neighbors.

The natural boundaries of the plantation were excellent aids to ordinary farming, which Colonel Mallory carried on to the extent usual in his section; but they were serious drawbacks to the business of oysterfarming, which Colonel Mallory pursued on a rather large scale, for the reason that Fiddler's Hill was so far from everywhere, except the river, that it was difficult to get police help.

Every description of planter has his especial enemies which work to make his crop a failure. The orchardist has the San José scale; the cotton-planter, the boll-weevil; the wheat-grower, the rust; the tobaccogrower, the hail-storm; and the corn-grower, the chinch-bug. The oyster-planter has evils corresponding to these, and, in addition, has the oyster-pirate. Of course, the oysterpirate is nothing more nor less than a thief, but upon his success the fortunes of many a planter have been won or lost.

The oyster-planter goes about his business just as if his business were on land. Oysters are planted and tended and harvested just like corn or wheat or cotton. A planter marks off his acreage with stakes, usually in water from five to fifteen feet deep and always on either sand or hard clay bottom, and throws overboard enough oyster-shells to put a good covering on the bottom. When the season comes, the mother oyster spawns

as

thousands upon thousands of "spats," they are called, which float with the tide and currents and cling to the first suitable thing they find. Each spat in time will develop into an oyster. When the spat floats into an oyster-bed, where the shells are already waiting, it attaches itself to a shell and starts immediately upon its life work of becoming an oyster. When the spat finds an oystershell, half of the work of building a home is already done, and only one shell has to be formed. Sometimes they will lodge on an old kettle, or a boot, or anything that will give a hold, and form curious clusters of shell and kettle, or shell and boot, as the case may be.

An oyster takes three years to grow to the size set by law as marketable, and the planter, no matter what his need for cash, must wait these three years before he harvests. He gathers them with oyster-tongs, which look very much like two long-handled rakes, bolted together like a pair of scissors so that the teeth of the rakes come together. The "tonger" rakes up the oyster-beds with these tongs and deposits his catch upon a "cullingboard," which reaches from one side of his boat to the other, culls out those oysters which are not of the required size, and returns them to the bed.

The oyster-pirate however is not bound by any culling law and he does not use tongs. From the stern of his vessel, usually a small schooner or sloop, he drops a dredge so made that it scoops up every oyster in its path; and when the dredge is full, he empties everything it contains into the hold of his vessel. When the pirate leaves an oyster-bed, provided he has not been disturbed, he leaves the bare bed behind him, and not until the planter begins to tong for oysters does he discover that he has been robbed.

In the shallow flats in front of Fiddler's Hill, Colonel Mallory had twelve hundred acres of oyster-beds. Along the outer edge of the beds were five little one-room houses set upon piles, and in these lived men, armed with rifles who guarded the beds during the oyster season, which commences with September and ends with April. A power "cunner," the stanch little dug-out found at every wharf in Chesapeake Bay, was tied to the piling under each little house.

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