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Mrs. B. F. Clinton 2

Miss Flora Finch 2

Arthur V. Johnson 3

Miss Mabel Trunnelle 4

Miss Agnes. Mapes 5

Charles M. Seay 6

Miss Mabel Normand 7


The Veil of Happiness John Elleridge Chandos

The Badge of Courage Malcolm. Campbell

Indian Brothers Louis Reeves

In the Right of Way Edzvin M. La Roche

The Hair Restorer and the Indians Emmett Campbell Hall

Memories of the Past Louis Reeves Harrison

Bob and Rowdy Gladys Roosevelt

Fighting Blood Frank J. Earle

Always a Way Dorothy Harpur

"B,illy the Kid" Marie Coolidge Rask

The Tenderfoot's Claim Guy Sham


Frank Dayton 8

Miss Alice Joyce 9

Miss Florence Lawrence 10

William West 11

Ben Cooper 12

Miss Mildred Bracken 12

Miss Fanny Midgeley 12

13 18

25 33

45 5i 59 65 75 &i


128 133 138

T'he Death of Edward the Third Montanye Perry 107

Trie' New Church Carpet Helen M. Coolidge 114

The Minute Men General Horatio C. King 122

The Capture of Ticonderoga Luliette Bryant

The Corporation and the Ranch Girl Peter Wade

The Clown's Baby Leona Radnor


What I Love Best Lizzie Pinson

The Picture Show Minna Irving

Robbie's Choice Kenneth S. Clark

The Ruined Picture ,. .L. Case Russell

The Stay at Home Traveler John S. Grey

The Moving Picture Cowboy E. A. Brininstool 105

A Curiosity 143


Children and "The Movies" 97

Religious Possibilities of the Motion Picture Herbert A. Jump 92

The Cash Prize Contest 150

Answers to Inquiries 144

Musings of a Photoplay Philosopher 147

58 63 64 74 9i



Copyright 1911, by The M. P. Publishing Co. Entered at the Brooklyn, N. Y., Post Office as second-class matter Feb. 21, 1911. A magazine of Picture Plays,

Done in stories in pleasing ways; Its purpose neither slight nor vain, To charm, instruct and entertain. Owned and published by The M. P. Publishing Co., a New York corporation, its office and principal place of business, No. 26 Court Street, Brooklyn, N. Y. J. Stuart Blackton, President; D. R. Shafer, Vice-President; Eugene V. Brewster, Sec.-Treas. and Editor; Montanye Perry, and Edwin M, La Roche, Ass't Editors. Subscription, $1.50. a year in advance, including postage in the U. S., Cuba and Mexico; in Canada, and in other foreign countries, $2.00. Single copies, 15 cents, postage prepaid. Stamps accepted. All manufacturers of Motion Pictures are invited to submit Scenarios and photos, which, if accepted, will be paid for at usual rates. The editor cannot undertake to read and pass upon the merits of scenarios, stories and plots; these must be submitted direct to the manufacturers of Motion Pictures. This magazine has its own staff, who write all stories that appear in this magazine.


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MRS. B. F. CLINTON (Vitagraph)









Miss Florence, Lawrence







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Vol. II


No. 7

The Veil of Happiness

(Pathe" Freres)


From the scenario of Georges Clemenceau, former Premier of France

The interesting questions, "Why are we here?" and "What are we here for?" supplied the great Chinese mandarin, Chang, with a favorite subject of thought, on which he dwelt with unceasing delight during his waking hours. He was enough of a poet to be fond of com- munion with Nature in her various moods, resigning himself to her influ- ences and giving free rein to his imagination while listening to mur- murs of the breeze, while smelling the fragrant exhalations of plants and flowers, while feeling the sun's warmth, but he was denied the charms of color and form. Chang was blind. His secretary had drawn Chang's attention to the invasion of Christian missionaries and had explained their purposes and many-colored beliefs in his own way. Chang understood the tendency of man toward the worship of Nature. It was but recognition of an unknown, invisible and irresistible power and led up to the personifica- tion of a deity known in China as "The Old Man in the Sky." That was all very pretty and very simple ; the disturbing element was the an- tagonism of doctrines. Only one could be right, hence the rest must be wrong, and this might provoke quar- rels among his cheerful people. An- ger, above all things, was to be avoid- ed. Life should be made comfortable. What comfort was there in believing that we are two things at war with

each other, a body getting along the best it can and a soul always grum- bling and dissatisfied? According to Confucius, the breath dissolves in air and the body reverts to dust, both returning to the sources from which they came, so it was only irritating to think of "souls," and quite distress- ing to find that some men are born saints while the rest are only mortals. It might be pleasant to imagine, Chang admitted, that we were sure to live again after death, but he had yet to find an atom of evidence in the his- tory of Christianity that this was more than an opium dream. So it came about that the blind mandarin conceived the idea of enlightening poor, deluded humanity on this sub- ject by sending Chinese missionaries into all Christian countries. This necessity appeared to be more impera- tive when he came to fully realize that Christian forms of belief were mu- tually exclusive, whereas a Chinaman could be Confucianist, Buddhist and Maorist, individually or collectively, with no detriment to his moral char- acter or social standing. Then, true reverence for a deity should not im- ply offense on his part if an humble creature of earth failed to select the right doctrine.

While Chang was convinced that Christianity was all wrong, he was too polite to enforce his conclusions rudely. He set about devising some way of teaching Christians gentle tol-





erance in a manner inoffensive. In China it is customary to keep back bad news as long as possible. During his hours of reverie it occurred to Chang that much that men do in a philanthropic way may proceed from low motives if their activities are di- rected toward attaining publicity, whereas influences exerted in a simple manner, not disagreeing with real character, are honest and more effect- ive. He became personally sweet to all within his sphere, radiating kind- ness upon wife, son and servants; breathing a moral atmosphere upon his household and neighbors.

While Chang's secretary supplied him with material for reverie and con- tributed to the happy abstraction of a mind contemplating lofty ideals, he failed to tell the mandarin how his benefactions were received. This con- cealment might have resulted from a

lack of sincerity, combined with the universal dread of giving offense, but silence on this subject was never broken. It was just as well that the truth was not told to beaming and ever-joyous Chang. He was supreme- ly happy in the supposed devotion of his wife, child and servants, and plainly believed that they loved him as he loved all humankind.

In truth, the ceremonial politeness with which the mighty mandarin was treated, while as comforting as an air cushion, had really nothing in it.

One day a rumor reached Chang's keen ears that a famous sorcerer had arrived in the neighborhood and was creating a sensation by relieving the woes of supposed incurables. The mandarin secreted a purse in the am- ple folds of his gown, called his sec- retary and went forth to walk among his people. After reaching an isolated



spot, he made known his desire to in- terview the sorcerer. This was readi- ly accomplished, and the meeting was held where no one would witness the association of an illustrious mandarin with a sorcerer. The latter was, how- ever, fully informed as to the charac- ter of his patient, and prepared for extraordinary treatment of his afflic- tion. He produced a small vial of powerful nerve stimulant, and care- fully measured a few drops for appli- cation, stating that double the amount would act in reverse and cause hope- less loss of sight. The application was painful, causing the mandarin intense suffering while the remedy was taking effect, but the result was miraculous. Chang saw things as they were. In a burst of enthusiasm, and, to help oth- ers who might be suffering from blindness, the mandarin purchased the sorcerer's visible supply of the wondrous remedy. He was again cau- tioned as to its employment in exact proportion, and he, in his turn, warned both his secretary and the sor- cerer to keep the sudden restoration of vision a profound secret until the joyous news could be proclaimed with becoming ceremony. Devotion to prec-

edent imposed silence on all three, and Chang returned to his home with delight in his heart so great that it could only be shared piecemeal with members of his household.

One glorious result of this physical transformation was freedom of move- ment. Chang had scarcely been left alone by his secretary before an irre- sistible impulse to try his newly ac- quired sense led him to tiptoe about the rooms of his palace, and directed his steps to the throne room. His silent approach was not noted by his son and the latter 's tutor while they were engaged in a mimicry of the daily lesson, which caused Chang no little perplexity. The boy was imi- tating the teacher's voice, while the latter repeated in droning monotone :

"He who violates propriety is de- ficient in filial piety."

"He who neglects his duties is de- ficient in filial piety."

"He who lacks courage is deficient in filial piety."

These were recited ironically by the boy and echoed with sneering empha- sis by the tutor until both were unable to proceed because of laughter.

Chang glanced into the room.





His dutiful son, usually respectful and polite to an extreme degree, was seated on the throne with Chang's ivory scepter in hand and the man- darin's cap tilted over one eye, mock- ing his blind father. The tutor was kneeling before the throne in derisive humility, rolling his eyes and praising Chang 's noble character in exaggerat- ed terms. Chang's breast heaved with indignation ; his right hand flew to his sword; he would not only have been justified in beheading both hypocrites, but Chinese law and custom approved of such an act. There had, however, grown up in the heart of the blind man a tolerance beyond his teachings. His hand dropperd to his side; his head drooped on his bosom, and he staggered away to his private rooms to weep in silence.

It was evening when Chang rose, wan and worn from mental anguish, looked forth upon his moonlit garden, and idly watched the shadows creep- ing there. He was sore at heart, real- izing iully that his only son had returned unfaith for sincere trust,

disrespect for unfailing kindness, ridicule for tender love. Chang sighed heavily. There was no one now on whom he could lean but her whose lips had ever been responsive to his kiss, whose caressing hands had soft- ened his darkest moods his wife. She was there, in the garden, in the semi-darkness. He rose wearily and followed out into the enchanted ground of flowerdom.

From long habit, he proceeded cau- tiously among the shadows, guided more by his sense of hearing than his new-born power of vision, following the tones of his loved one 's voice until he reached a point where her utter- ances could be distinguished in detail.

She was engaged in the only recre- ation accorded women in China and somewhat enjoyed by those of other nations she was gossiping.

The mandarin smiled to himself. Appreciation of human society was keen among the women of his race, and was the secret of their cheerful- ness.

His wife was saying: "I hate the



sight of him. He bores me more than you can understand. He is forever preaching and giving advice, while I long for one who will understand me and exchange sweet thoughts that I love. I am tired of his vulgar habits ; the very expression of his face, after he has eaten his fill, his expression of egotistical satisfaction, gets on my nerves. I am sick of petting him and pretending an affection I do not feel. He nauseates me, but I must keep up the farce, lest the others should sus- pect, and wait for the few sweet mo- ments when I can be with you."

Chang peered out from concealment and beheld the woman who had his honor in her small hands reclining in the arms of a handsome lover. Her cheeks were aglow with new-found love and her eyes and lips were tell- ing the story of a passion her hus- band had not dreamed she could ever assume.

"Listen !" the lover whispered. 1 ' Somebody is coming i ' '

The wife held herself rigid for a moment.

"You are mistaken,' ' she breathed in relief. "No one would dare to en- ter the mandarin's private garden."

There was an ominous silence.

Not far away, Chang stepped into view and stood trembling, his mighty frame convulsed with some racking emotion. There was foam on his lips ; his face was drawn by a conflict of rage and fierce will; his eyes rolled like those of a man on the verge of complete mental dissolution. His sword hand hovered with vacillating purpose over his weapon until his

nails dug deep in the flesh; then his snarling teeth set in desperate resolu- tion and he staggered into the house.

"If he had seen us!" the lover gasped.

"No danger!" she sneered, "tho that is the first time I ever saw him tormented with suspicion. ' '

"He may have heard!" the lover shuddered.

"Our heads are safe," she as- sured him. Then, pouting, "Don't you think my hair is too pretty to be cut that way ? ' '

A terrible cry rang out from the house, and the lover escaped just as lights appeared in the windows.

The mandarin's son came running into the garden.

"What is the matter?" she asked with mild concern.

The boy dragged her into the house, panting: "He was rolling on the floor! He was screaming with pain! He was tearing at his eyes! It is terrible!"

They found great Chang seated in his chair, half -supported by servants.

The wife went to his side and ca- ressed his cheeks.

The boy kneeled at his feet.

The mandarin placed his right hand on the boy's head in tender re- assurance and turned a smiling face to his wife.

She started back in horror.

The flesh in both of the mandarin 's eye-sockets was burned to a crisp, leaving nothing but two dark caverns.

Clenched in the mighty Chang's left hand was the vial the sorcerer had given him empty!

It's His Business


He who fights and runs away

May live to fight another day!"

Of course ! He 's doing it for pay

Works in the Moving Picture play !

The Badge of Courage



The earliest incident of his life which Tom Waring could recall was waking, screaming with ter- ror, scarce freed, even when wide awake and close held in his mother's arms, from the agony of a dream a dream of sunlit, sparkling water, which- to all others seemed gay and harmless, but which revealed to him a nameless horror which lurked be- neath the gleaming surface, as tho Death smiled with the face of a beau- tiful woman, and reached out, from bright, silken garments, skeleton fin- gers to clutch him by the throat. He did not tell the nature of the dream that had frightened him, and present- ly went to sleep again, close held in his mother's arms, but even in his sleep he would start and shudder, and a cold dampness break out on his white forehead.

It was some years later, when Tom had grown into a merry, well-liked and sturdy chap of seven, that he first visited the seashore. At the first sight of the sunlit, dancing waves, and at the sound of the low purr of the spent breakers crawling up the white sand, the lad lived again the agony of that dream. With the sensitiveness of a child, fearing the ridicule of those other children who played so uncon- cernedly on the sand, he fought with his terror.

"Go on, Tom, and wade with the others, ' ' his father said, and gave him a playful push. "Don't be bashful a great big chap like you ! ' '

With white face and set teeth, the child took a step forward, just as a wave raised itself in a green concave, and he saw, down beneath the sun- light, the Terror. With a cry he sprang back, clutching and clinging to his father's arm, his frame shaken with sobs.

"Why, I believe he is afraid of the water!" his father exclaimed, turn-

ing toward Mrs. Waring. In a mo- ment she had dropped upon her knees, and Tom was held closely against her breast.

"I don't like it, Mary; I don't like it at all, ' ' Mr. Waring said impatient- ly, later in the evening, when Tom had been put safely to bed. "The boy is a perfectly healthy specimen, and I have never before seen any in- dication of an unreasoning fear. Why, he acted like an absolute cow- ard!" he continued, with growing displeasure.

The mother regarded him with troubled eyes.

"Perhaps there was something we didn't quite understand," she sug- gested. ' ' I I would not like to think my boy a coward," she said, appeal- ingly.

"Well, we will see to-morrow what the trouble is," Mr. Waring said de- cisively.

"You you will be gentle with him, John ? He is such a little fellow, after all, ' ' the mother whispered.

"Of course I will be gentle with him. I shall simply prove to him that there is nothing to fear that every one else has a lot of fun in the water, ' ' he responded as he rose to retire.

The day following Tom and his father, clad in bathing suits, appeared upon the beach, and for some time watched the bathers in the surf. At last Mr. Waring picked the child up in his arms, and talking merrily, started to walk out into the water.

"Don't put me down, papa! Oh, please take me back!" Tom pled, his small arms gripping tightly about his father's neck.

"Nonsense, Tom ! Don't be a baby ! You will think it fine as soon as you get used to it," Mr. Waring said, and allowed him to slip down just as a wave broke about them in a knee- deep smother of foam. One cry burst





from the child as the water touched him, and he tore himself from his father's grasp. Running and stum- bling, he fled back to the beach, and pitched in a dead faint at his mother's feet.

Curiously enough, still water in lakes and rivers had no terrors for Tom, and, as he grew up, he evinced a decided fondness for swimming. In the course of his college life he estab- lished several amateur records, and was the winner of several medals for victories in still-water swimming con- tests. These bits of gold he valued highly, because, after each had been attained, a girl had greeted him with shining eyes and thrilling handclasp as she whispered:

"I'm glad, Tom! I knew you would win. ' '

That was what made victory really desirable Jane Mayfield 's joy in his triumph. It was to win her praise that he had carried off honors in ex- aminations as well as in athletics ; that caused him to buckle down to business, working like a galley slave, after his graduation. When, alone,

he swung his first successful "deal," it was to Jane Mayfield that he had gone for his first congratulations.

"Of coarse you are going to suc- ceed, every time. I couldn't dream of your failing in anything, ' ' she told him. Then, with sudden, maternal solicitude, she looked closely into his face.

"But you are not to work too hard, ' ' she warned ; ' ' 'specially while I am not here to look after you, sir. In fact, you are to drop everything, instantly, when I send you word, and come down to Bay side and play with me."

"Oh, I wouldn't fail to come when you called, if you had managed to climb up into the moon ! " he laughed, but back of the laugh was a note that thrilled the girl.

The command to come and play came in August, and Tom promptly obeyed the summons. He found the grounds of the Mayfield cottage deco- rated for a garden party, and a num- ber of merry guests already assem- bled. The banker and Mrs. Mayfield greeted him warmly, but an outsider



would have seen nothing more than casual friendliness in the smile that came to Jane 's face. It was some time before Tom succeeded in detaching the girl from the laughing crowd a move which she had several times blocked with a teasing light in her eyes but at last it was accomplished, and they strolled away to a pretty and secluded nook.

' ' I er I have something to say to you, Jane," Tom said formally, and swallowed hard.

"Good gracious! I hope so. I do hate to do all the talking!" the girl laughed merrily. ' ' But, then, you al- most always have something to say more or less so why mention it ? "

Tom gulped and awkwardly took her hand in his.

"Why, you know, Jane, of course that is, you have always understood when I was really established in busi- ness, and all that sort of thing and I am doing all right now, so I guess it isn't necessary to say anything more, is it, dear?" he stammered, and fum-

blingly took from his pocket a ring that sparkled brilliantly.

A soft light came into her eyes, and she gently smoothed back the hair that tumbled over his forehead.

"No, it isn't necessary to say any- thing more, Tom ; I understand. But I ivish you to say it, dear; the pretty things, and the sweet things, and the foolish things all the things that a girl will never forget, when they have been told to her by the man she loves, Tom. You haven't even said you loved me you haven 't kist me once ! ' '

And thereupon his shyness fell away like a garment, and with a joy- ous little cry he caught her to his breast, and whispered on her lips all the sweet, foolish things that lovers have whispered since the world was young.

Presently Jane suddenly remem- bered her guests, and hurried Tom along with her to where the young people were grouped.

"We've taken a vote, and the raa-




jority has declared for a plunge," Jimmy Stetson informed her. "I'm running things now," he casually added. "Hostess runs off and hides in the garden, and somebody had to take charge."

"And you did, of course. I knew you would that's why I ran off, just to give you a chance to assert your- self, ' ' Jane retorted. ' ' All right, ma- jority rules. Come on, Tom, let's go and dance in the sunshine with the little waves."

But Tom did not respond to her banter. A sudden cloud came over his face, and he fumbled with his watch.

"Er really, I'm afraid I haven't time got an appointment very im- portant— with a man at the hotel," he stammered.

Jane looked at him curiously. Then she rested her hand shyly on his arm.

"Come on, Tom, I want you," she said softly.

For a moment he hesitated, and a curious grayness crept over his cheek. Then he nodded stiffly, and they fol- lowed the others to where two large automobiles waited.

Tho he accompanied them to the beach, Tom could not be induced to don a bathing suit. The others were soon laughing and shouting amid the breakers, working their way out, and were a considerable distance from shore when Jane gave up her attempt to induce Tom to come into the water. "With a laugh, she scooped up a hand- ful of the brine, threw it toward him and plunged into the waves, striking out with accustomed strokes across the deep spot which separated her from the shoal on which the rest of the party were now resting. Sudden- ly they heard her cry out, an an- guished appeal for help, and then the water closed over her. Tom sprang to his feet, and with his face curiously drawn and twisted, ran toward the surf -line. The other bathers were al- ready moving with utmost speed, but they were much further from the struggling girl, who had fought her way to the surface, than was Tom, and it was to Tom that she turned her

eyes. She was silent now, fighting grimly with the cramp that gripped her and the current that dragged her down. A wave reared upward, mak- ing a deep green cavern at its base, and another, breaking, curled about Tom's legs, whispering softly on the sand. In the green cavern he saw a grinning, nameless Thing, and with his hands covering his eyes, he stag- gered backward to the dry sand.

"Oh, God! I cannot!" he moaned, and turning, fled as tho the very spirit of Fear strode at his heels.

The other bathers reached Jane in time, and presently, pale but unhurt, she lay upon the warm sand. Tom approached slowly, and silently stood where she might see him. Not one of the others broke the silence, tho each condemned him with chilling eyes.

At last Jane spoke, her voice low and tense :

"Winner of swimming medals coward go!"

Silent, with hanging head, he turned and left them.

Just as it was only for Jane's sake that he had cared for his college prizes, it was only of her that Tom thought in the shame that had come upon him. Old friends turned their backs when he approached, but, ab- sorbed in his agony of spirit, he did not see their slights, nor would he have cared. All things else were blot- ted out by the one great sorrow. At last he realized that his mind would give way unless he took some decisive action, and he nerved himself to seek the girl at her home.

1 i They will probably have the ser- vants kick me from the door," he muttered, "and it would be right. But no!" he raged in fury, "it is something outside of me some curse laid on me at birth it is not I that is afraid. My God, how cheerfully would I die for her sake ! To die that is nothing! But that other Thing!"

Shaking, he wiped the cold damp- ness from his face.

A short time before Jane had left her home, intending to visit her father's office, and informing her



maid of her destination. When Tom arrived, he Avas spared the pain of her refusal to see him, as would most cer- tainly have occurred had she been at home.

"I I think I will write and leave a note for your mistress," he said, and the maid showed him to a desk, at which he seated himself wearily.

Upon arriving at the office, Jane found that her father was out, a sin- gle clerk being on duty at the time. As Mr. Mayfield was expected to re- turn at any moment, Jane decided to wait.

The clerk answered the call of the telephone, then turned to the girl.

"If you intend to remain here, Miss Mayfield, I will run down to the bank," he said; "there seems to be a matter which requires explanation. I will return in fifteen minutes, even if Mr. Mayfield is not in by that time."

"Go on, certainly," she replied, and the clerk hurried away.

Jane was aroused from the sad reverie into which she had fallen by a curious feeling that all was not well. Nervously she rose, crossed the room and threw open the door leading to the corridor, to be instantly driven back by a cloud of strangling smoke. Swiftly she crossed to the window, but no hope of escape lay there there was a sheer drop of four stories to the pavement below. The smoke pouring from the windows showed her that the fire was on the floor immediately be- low that on which she stood. For a moment she stood still, her senses paralyzed ; then, with a little moan of hope, she sprang to the telephone.

For half an hour Tom Waring sat at the desk, his aching head supported by his hand. A dozen times he dipped his pen, and each time the ink dried before he could determine upon the first word to place upon the paper. How could he explain what he himself did not understand i Several times

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the maid came to the door, observed his preoccupation, and went away without disturbing him. Then the telephone at his elbow rang sharply, insistently. Instinctively his hand went out; then, remembering that he was in another's house, he waited for the maid to answer the call, but she did not appear. Again the bell shrilled with such a continued call that Tom lifted the receiver.

"It might be something urgent, " he muttered.

' ' This is Central, ' ' an excited voice spoke in his ear. "The Standard Building is on fire. Miss Mayfield is cut off in Mr. Mayfield 's office. I have told the fire department, but thought some one at her home "

Tom dropped the instrument and sprang to his feet with an exclamation of horror. A moment later he had plunged down the front steps. A mo- torcycle stood at the curb, and heed- less of the owner's shouts, Tom sprang upon it and sped away.

Already the police had driven back the crowd and established fire lines when Tom reached the big building, from the upper windows of which the smoke was pouring blackly. An offi- cer caught his coat as he plunged thru the line, but the cloth gave way as he lunged forward, and an instant later he was inside the building. As he en- tered the ground floor corridor, one of the big electric elevators dropped down the shaft, and a fireman, scorched and blackened, stumbled out.

"It can't be done!" he gasped, as his comrades caught his reeling figure. "You could shoot the car thru, but any man would be dead before it reached the top floor." Even in his pain the man cast a look of pity toward Mayfield, who crouched, white and trembling, against the wall. Tom sprang into the car.

"Stop that man it's certain death!" the fire chief shouted, but Tom had already thrown the lever,

and the car shot upward. Above, the shaft was filled with leaping flame at the level of the fourth floor, but al- most before he had time to realize its fury, the car was in its midst. For an instant his brain reeled as his skin cracked in the fierce heat. Then Tom was conscious that the car was stand- ing still was thru the flames and had been stopped by the automatic brakes at the top floor. Thru the stifling smoke he stumbled to the door of Mayfield 's office, realizing that but seconds remained before the flames would burn thru the floor of the ele- vator car and cut off the only retreat. The door gave way before his lunge, and he stumbled over a form that had fallen to the floor. With the swiftness of desperation he rolled Jane in the heavy rug, caught her up and stag- gered back into the corridor. He seemed lost in a world of swirling smoke thru which for years he had gasped and fought, and consciousness was fast slipping away.

"I must ! I must!" some other voice seemed to be whispering, and at last he stumbled against the hot grating of the elevator shaft, then into the car. With the last flicker of light in his mind, he pulled the lever over, and the car dropped downward thru the red flames.

Two weeks later Tom was dis- charged from the hospital, quite re- covered from the effects of the fire, except for a shortage of hair and eye- brows. On the sidewalk he paused uncertainly, then with sudden deter- mination walked rapidly away.

On the shaded porch of her home he found Jane, and to him her pale face, into which the color was just be- ginning to return, seemed even fairer than when he had seen it aglow with rioting health. Without a word, he stood before her.

Slowly, yearningly, she held out her arms, while a tender smile came to her lips.

Indian Brothers



Green the heaving breast of na- ture, where the hills rose in bil- lows, with occasional sharp crests, to the far-distant, haze-soft- ened divide that stood sharply defined against the sky's unbroken blue. Down in the valley, where the willows clustered and the cottonwoods trem- bled, there was a shimmer of flowing water, coolness and shade. Cradled in soft embrace between the two, Lone Pine, last great chieftain of his tribe, was in conference with his successor and only brother, known as The Whirlwind. Sick to death with thoughts that came like a blight upon his unfettered spirit, the venerable chief was yielding slowly, yet not fal- tering, to the inevitable. Earth had given him birth, had nourished him and had claimed his service ; to earth he would return. To this fate he was reconciled, but he complained to Whirlwind :

"I sorrow for my people. We be- long to the woods and the hills. By blood and birth we are theirs and they are ours, but there are few of us left to-day, and there will be fewer as we fall like red leaves before the white blast. How can we live? Gone the brown buffaloes from the plains, the yellow antelope from the hills, the



broad-winged eagle from the skies. Those of us who still stand erect must soon take a last look at the great coun- try we have lost, or cringe in shame like dogs and renegades. ' '

Whirlwind made no reply, but went to Meda, the snake woman, who laughed foolishly and said wise things.

"Lone Pine's stomach is crying for food," she sneered. "We sold what we had and spent what we got; now we want more in the same easy way. Go to the shadows of the forest, to the hush of the woods, and hunt as our fathers did for what is needed." . Whirlwind cast aside his blanket of sorrow like the strong and whole man that he was and set forth new-souled, his blood once more warmed by his youth's