SUSPICION. 



359 



"Partake sparin'ly of the lunch," he cau- 

 tioned me, "for we may need to make it 

 hold out some time yet." 



I was too astounded to reply. The pos- 

 sibility of a night in the woods had not, to 

 that moment, occurred to me; but I deter- 

 mined to make the best of the adventure 

 and observe a discreet silence, inasmuch 

 as there was no other way out of the pre- 

 dicament. IndeeJ, there was something 

 novel in the situation which one could not 

 but enjoy in spite of the sparsity of rations. 



Slowly the long hours of the night wore 

 away as we sat before the glowing fire, 

 and with the first gray streaks of the dawn 

 we were away again at a rapid trot along 

 the trail. Late in the afternoon we came 

 on bruin, away up among the foothills of 

 the White mountains. A heavy crashing 

 in the underbrush, quickly silenced by an 

 ounce ball from the long rifle of my com- 

 rade, and a charge of buckshot from my 

 double gun, ended our long chase. 



At the nearest settlement, n miles away, 

 we secured refreshment and assistance, and 

 by the evening of the third day we arrived 

 home with our noble prize. My chief 

 anxiety had been lest my friend should 

 have been worried over my protracted ab- 

 sence; but he welcomed me with a bland 

 smile and a merry twinkle of the eye. In 

 fact, as afterward came out, he had been 

 at one time prevailed on by Uncle Silas 

 to accompany him on one of his excur- 

 sions; and knowing what the conclusion 

 was likely to be he had deliberately turned 

 me over to the veteran hunter with the ex- 

 pectation that thereafter he should hear 

 no more from me about the glories of the 

 hunt. 



Although I was out again with Silas in 

 less than a week, I must admit it was not 

 without having made preparation for sev- 

 eral days in the woods. 



SUSPICION. 



J. A. COLL. 



I loved the birds and built a cozy home 

 Deep in the boughs of a full blossoming 

 tree; 

 I coaxed the morning messengers to come 

 And rear their tender nestlings, trusting 

 me. 



Vain thought! Can they forget the harder 

 hand 

 Which slew the brother birds on heath 

 and hill? 

 And vainer kindness! Old suspicions 

 brand 

 This harmless home a snare to trap and 

 kill. 



"What's the matter with the Albino girl 

 to-day?" asked the fat lady. "Oh, I sup- 

 pose it's her old trouble," replied the tat- 

 tooed girl. "Pink eye." — Philadelphia 

 Bulletin. 



AMATEUR PHOTO B f B. J. FORSYTHE. 



A PERILOUS PASSAGE. 



Mrs. Sourwed — I was thinking of our 

 courtship — those blissful davs ! 



Mr. Sourwed — So was I — that blissful 

 daze ! — Puck. 



