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THE WATEEf OWN RE-UNION. WEB OF STEEL By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY and CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY, Jr. Author and Clergyman Civil Engineer This Is a Thrilling Story of American Life as Strong, Courageous Men Live It Copyrilht by Fleming H, Revell Co. , CHAPTER XVI l^-Continued. \He wouldn't be a common work- man, would he?\ asked the girl, more disappointed' than she could, express. \Certainly not. He'd be keeping track of material, or running a transit, or acting as a gang foreman. Most of the workmen are foreigners, although the bridge erectors are Americans.\ ^ \You're sure that he's not here?\ ' Absolutely.\ *• \There's the dam,\ said Winters. •\We'll try that in the morning.\ \What good is it going to do us, Dick!\ asked Eodney a little 4rritablv, \Even if we do iind him, we can't make him speak.\ \I don't know,\ answered the woman slowly. \But if I could just see him once again, Mr. Eodney\—she spoke \He Wouldn't Be a Common Work- man, Would He?\ Asked the Girl. without hesitation or reserve, and both men felt deeply for her—\if I could just speak to him, If he would only—\ \I believe you can persuade him,\ said Winters. \Yes perhaps, but I want Shurtliff to speak first, then we can approach our friend himself with more confi- dence,\ said Eodney. CHAPTER XVIII. Brute Force or Finesse. \What do you want me t o say, Mr. Eodney?\ asked Shurtliff, coming through the door, having caught Bod- ney's use of his name. \Oh Shurtliff—\ began Eodney, somewhat embarrassed at having been overheard. \What do you want me to' speak about?\ continued the old man sus- •niciously, not giving the younger man tmie to finish. \And what friend can you then approach, sir?\ \I'll tell you what I want,\ said Eodney. He quickly came to a decision. Standing up and facing the old man, he staked everything on one bold throw.' Grasping the situation, Helen Illingworth held hen breath. Winters moved to take his own part in the game at the proper time. ^ \What is it, sir?\ asked the Secre- tary. \Shut the door and come in,\ was the answer. Eodney spoke sharply, and it was a sort of indication, characteristic of the difference in station between an independent young man and a subser- vient old man. \Here I am, sir,\ answered Shurtliff, closing the door and standing before it, He shot-a quick glance at the young woman. He observed her tense posi- tion. He saw the emotions that filled her soul in her face and bearing.. All his old suspicions rose like a flood. For a moment he no longer eared for her. He almost hated her. He looked from her to the dark-faced, determined Rod- ney, to big, powerful, quiet Winters. Was this a trap? Were they going to try to force l}im to speak? He was a brasfe man, old Shurtliff, but his heart bW a little faster as he faced them. He was quite master of himself, though, cool, watchful, determined; in their eyes rather admirable than otherwise. \The time has Come for you to, tell os the truth,\ began Bodney emphat- ically. %ou know that the whole -blame and responsibility for the fail- ure of the International bridge is loaded on the wrong man. You know that you permitted, and even made possible, the sacrifice of the reputation Df the son for the sake of the fame ti the fether. You know that this girl here is breaking her heart, that Meade's life is ruined, and you're to blame. Now the time has come for you to speak. We know as well as you that young Meade is innocent. Here's our evidence.\ He drew a handful of papers from his inside breast pocket and shook them in the face of the old man, who had shrunk back against the side of the car and stood staring, •white-faced, thin-lipped, close-mouthed, inexorably resolved still. . \Eead them,\ continued . Eodney. \I'll admifto you that the whole thing would not be worth the paper it's written on in a court of law,-or even in a newspaper report, but it's con- vincing to us, and you can make it convincing to everybody. You've got to speak.\ \Do you thln,k, sir, that there's any power in your stretched-out arm, or in your rude voice or in your threat- ening gesture to make me speak?\ \By the Lord,\ exclaimed Winters,, suddenly whipping; out a Colt's .45 from the holster at his belt—he was dressed just as he had been when he rode away from the ranch—\out West we've got ways for persuading men to speak, and this is one of them.\ Winters was a bigger man than Eod- ney. His life had been wild and rough, and his manner when he wanted was according. He would fain add physical compulsion under threat of death to Eodney's mental insistence. \And do you think, sir, that I'm afraid of any lethal weapon you can produce or even use, any more than I am of Mr. Eodney's words?\ The old man's eyes flashed, and his knees shook, but he had all the spirit of a soldier as he looked Into Winters' stern face, full of threat and menace\. His thin voice toot on a certain qual- ity of courage. It even rang a little. His courage was mainly moral, but there was some accompanying physical hardihood, that was undoubted. \You can beat me, you can even kill me, if you wish, but you\ can't make me say a word I don't want to say of .my own free will,\ he cried out at last, his voice strangely rising. \Gentlemen; gentlemen,\ said Helen Hlingworth, rising and swiftljt inter- posing between the secretary and the two angry men. She realized that the affair had gone far enough and that she must intervene. They had certain- ly failed lamentably, almost ludicrous- ly. \You are wrong to threaten Mr. Shurtliff. He is old enough to be the father of either of you. Drop your arm, Mr. Eodney. Put up that pistol, Mr. Winters. Mr. Shurtliff,\ said the girl quickly, \as I am in a certain sense your hostess, and as you are In a cer- tain sense my guest here, I apologize to you for the Improper and impulsive conduct of these young men. They love Bertram Meade dearly, as I do. Let that be their excuse. Meanwhile, they will apologize to you here and now, I am sure.\ There was a moment of silence. Eod- ney and Winters stared at each other, and both looked at the girl, confront- ing them so confidently in her superb and beautiful way. Winters smiled a little shamefacedly as he shoved his gun back into its holster. His had in- deed been the greater offense. \Mr. Winters, Mr. Eodney,\ said the girl insistently. \Oh I apologize. I suppose it was wrong to threaten him,\ said Eodney disgustedly. \Hang it,\ said \Winters now utterly forgetful of conventions, \it wasn't the thing to do to draw a gun on a little old man, and I'm sorry I did it.\ \And now that we've apologized you'll tell us the truth, won't you?\ asked Eodney swiftly, with no appre- ciable change of manner. \Yes we beg it now, humbly,\ chimed in Winters, with anything buj; an humble air or voice. \I won't have Mr. Shurtliff even ap- pealed to now,\ said Miss Illingworth. \You have threatened him and you have apologized. Whether he forgives you or not is for him to decide, but he shall not be worried, or questioned, or insulted any more:\ \Thank you, Miss Illingworth. I came for that book on the desk; your- father wants it,\ said Shurtliff grimly, bowing slightly to her. He stepped a little tremblingly—the scene had been unnerving—past the young men, picked up the book, bowed again formally and unmistakably to Miss Illingworth alone, and went out of the car. The honors of the encoun- ter were certainly his.' \Well Miss Illingworth,\ said Win- ters, \I don't know whether you made a mistake or not. I think I could have scared it out of him with this little persuader of mine—\ He tapped the butt of the pistol. \You couldn't have dobe.it if you had killed him,\ said the woman, who had 'read the old secretary correctly. \He isn't What I call a daring man, but he has courage that would take 'him to the stake rather than make him give way, the courage of endur- ance rather than of action. When he speaks, if he ever does, it will be of his own free will.\ \Or because you may persuade him,\ said Eodney. \By jove, when I think it over, it was the finest thing you ever did.\ \Bert Meade's a lucky fellow,\ sain Winters. \You're the kind of a girl that ought to marry out West, where we try to breed men that will match up.\ Helen Hlingworth laughed a little, although she felt no Inclination to merriment, \That's a fine compliment,\ she said. \Well this has rather shaken me, and I'm going to ask you gentlemen to ex- cuse me.\ \We'll see if he is working on the dam tomorrow.\ \You will stay all night, Mr. Win- ters?\ \Your father invited me to take a bunk in his car, and, to be perfectly frank with you, I'd sleep out in the open rain rather than miss a chance of being in on the end of a game like this.\ The girl bowed and left them. \Dick said Eodney slowly at last, as the two sat smoking together in the silence of complete understanding and good comradeship, which requires no expression in talk, \you're not the only man who thinks that girl would be a good wife to a man.\ 'Ah,\ said Winters, \sits the wind In that quarter, Eod?\ 'Yes,\ answered the other, \but I'm fighting this thing through for Meade.\ 'Well, by George,\ said the big ranchman, \you're as good a man as Meade any day, fine fellow as he is. I wish I had some chance to get in this game and make myself worthy of the two of you, let alone the lady.\ It was a rare confidence that Eodney had vouchsafed to his friend, and like every other Anglo-Saxon, having said his say, he did not wish to discuss it further. \Do you know,\ he began, changing the subject abruptly, \I think things have turned out pretty well in spite of our foolishness a while ago. I be- lieve if there's a spark of human grati- tude in Shurtliffs heart, the girl's in- terposition when you and I were threat- ening him, and her refusal to allow him to be questioned later, will fan it into flame. And I have an idea that when he thinks it over he'll be about ready to tell.\ \Are you sure he has anything to tell?\ \Certain.\ \Well I guess you're right. It sort of consoles me for having drawn my gun, without using it, too. And if he tells in the morning and we find Meade, everything will be lovely.\ \For everybody but me,\ said Eod- ney. \I'll tell you what, old man, when this thing's over, you're coming out to spend the rest of the winter with me on the ranch. It's the greatest place on earth for a man to buck up. There's no woman within fifty miles.\ Eodney laughed a little grimly. -'Til go you,\ he said. CHAPTER XIX. ' The Battle From Above. The rain had stopped by morning, to the great relief of Colonel Illing- worth, Severonoe and Curtiss, and the satisfaction of Helen. There was little sun to dry the big, red sandstone mesa, its sides seamed inlo fantastic shapes, which rose grandly between the val- ley of the Picket Wire and the ravine of the Kicking Horse, and which the young woman intended to cross in her walk toward the (lam with Eodney and Winters. The siding near the steel- arch bridge was close to the rock wall of the ravine, which here had been so scoured out of the rocky side of the nie.»n by torrents of other days that it could fairly be called a gorge. Con- sequently the hank of clouds above the horizon to\the northwest was hid be- hind the big butte from the occupants of the two private cars. Although the day did not promise to be fair, they \Out West We've Got Ways for Per- suading Men to Speak.\ had no idea of the further threat of storm presaged by the black masses to I he northwest. In sandy, porous soils, such as here prevailed, the rain is absorbed quickly. ] They could traverse the trails carpet- ' ed with the needles of centuries that ran through the dripping pines, with- lout getting muddy, and with nothing i more to fear than a wetting. Colonpl Illingworth, Severence and Curtiss an- nounced their intention of going back to the town to continue their consulta- tions and observations concerning the progress of work on the bridge. Shurt- liff, who went about his business grave- ly reserved, frigidly cold and self-con- tained, had work to do at his desk. The woman and the two young men were for the dam. After an early breakfast, therefore, the second car was uncoupled, and the engine backed it down around the mesa toward the viaduct twenty miles below. Eodney and Winters prepared to go with Miss Illingworth across the wood- ed island, with its cresting of stone, so to speak, that lay between the ra- vine and the valley. The conductor of the train, a local employee of the railroad, told them that the shortest way was directly over the mesa. The sandstone of which this huge mound was mninly composed had been broken and disintegrated on all sides by cen- turies of erosion and weathering, and there were practicable ascents and de- scents at both ends. The nearest ascent was at the side of the big tableland di- rectly opposite which the car was placed. The trails through the pines which covered the hill up to the very foot of the big butte were unfrequented and in bad repair, but practicable if the traveler was prepared for a wet- ting. The shortest and on the whole the easiest way to the dam would be to make their way to the foot of the mesa, climb it through the big ravine and cross it to the lower end, less than two miles away, where there was au easy descent to the dam. \And if you get caught In the rain,\ said the conductor, \which ain't likely, for It's already rained more In the last twenty-four hours than In the last twenty-four years, it seems to me, there's a hut, half stone and half tim- ber, up on the mesa that campers sometimes make use of when they want to see the sun rise, which Is a mighty fine sight from there. It was in pretty fair shape when I visited it last year, and you can find shelter^there. It's at the higfiest point on the mesa. You can see a long way up the gulch there, and a longer way down and up the Picket Wire valley. Above the dam it used to show a level, fertile stretch between the hills, but It's all a lake now.\ Shurtliff, of course, declined Miss Ulingworth's invitation to accompany the party on plea of urgent duties and important papers to prepare. He had spoken no words to Eodney or Winters, and those gentlemen made no effort to engage him in conversation. They were, in truth, a little ashamed of their actions of the night before. They were exceedingly anxious as to whether their theories as to the possible effect of Miss Ulingworth's action would be jus- tified, so they carefully avoided the secretary, letting the leaven work If it would. To their disappointment, it gave no sign of life or action. Of the four most interested in Meade, Winters was the only one who had slept soundly that night. Eodney wns too much in love with the wonnra ever to sleep soundly again, he thought— certainly not until her future had been settled and her relations to Meade finally determined. Shurtliffs feelings were painful in the extreme. Torn be- tween the old habit of affection for the dead, his new habit of affection for the woman, his oft-recurring com- punction of conscience, his immediate resentment of the treatment of the two men, his acknowledgment of the splen- did action of the woman, his suspi- cions, his uncertainty, as to how the younger Meade would take it if he told the truth, he slept not at all. Into Helen Ulingworth's mind also had come, although, to her credit be it said, not until she had retired and had thought over her action in the light of the hints given, that perhaps her gen- erous interposition in behalf of Shurt- liff might move his gratitude and that he might at last vouchsafe her the help which she felt more certain than ever he alone could give. She wus glad when the thought came to her that she could look herself squarely in the face and declare to her conscience that it had not been back of her action, which had been purely spontaneous. The possibility, although a faint one, that Meade might be working on the dam and that she might see him on the morrow would have sufficed to give her a wakeful night. Eodney was a more careful observer than Winters, but even the cattleman noticed that she looked worn and strained as he helped her out of the car for their tramp across the mesa to the dam. \You know,\ he said, with rough- and-ready sympathy, \we haven't the least assurance that Meade Is there. It's only a chance, and probably a long one.\ \I shall never rest until it is decided absolutely one way or the other,\ said the woman. \Well I'm not much of a walker,\ said the eatflemaiL \I generally pre- fer to get over the ground a«lrlde of a broncho, but T guess I can keep up with the parly for two miles, If that'\ the distance.\ It was dark and damp and wet under the pines. Although the two men cleared the way for her, holding branches back and shaking the water off the drooping boughs, it was well Helen was protected from the wet. She had tramped hills and mountains many a time, camp and forest were fa- miliar to her. She wore a short- skirted dress, stout boots and leg- gings, and a yellow western slicker. The exertion of the upward climb, stumbling over broken branches and uprooted logs and floundering through boggy places on the trail, brought a touch of color to her face, and though damp, the air sweet and fragrant, clean and pure, refreshed and pleased her greatly: the men, too. It was a hard pull, and she wus out of breath when she reached the broken coulee* or ravine, which led to the top of the big red sandstone plateau. \I'm terribly out of practice,\ she said to the two men, \but I don't be- lieve I'm in any worse state than you are, Mr. W'lnters.\ \I told you I wasn't any good on foot,\ said Winters, who was blowing like a grampus. Eodney laughed at the two of them. \Look a t me,\ he said. \I'm as fresh as when I began.\ \Well you're used to walking,\ re- turned Winters. \It's this plugging along this broken trail that has knocked us out. The rich, they ride on—bronchos, you kuow.\ \When we get on top of the mesa we will find it easier going,\ said Eod- ney encouragingly. \Let us start,\ said the girl, sud- denly serious, as she thought what might be at the end of the journey. \Before we go any farther,\ said Winters, staring up the ravine at the sky which showed about it, \just take a look at that.\ He pointed to the black clouds rap- idly rising, apparently against the wind, which swayed rather violently the tops of the tallest pines, although they were protected and in compara- tive quiet where they stood in the ra- vine. \It looks as if there were more rain there,\ said Eodney. \It's incredible,\ answered Winters, \after what we've had.\ \But it certainly Is coming down again, and if I'm any Judge, It will be another cloudburst.\ \Perhaps we'd better go back,\ sug- gested Winters to Miss Illingworth. \Go back!\ exclaimed the girl. \When I'm as near as this?\ \But It's only a possibility, you know.\ \Possibility or not, it would take a deluge in my path to stop me. Come.\ It was an entirely practicable climb, but rather a hard one on the wet, crumbling rocks. It did not take the three young people long to surmount the difficulties, however, and after a few minutes they stood on top of the mesa. Near at hand was the hut of which the conductor had spoken. It stood upon a little rise above the general level, and from it one could see far in every direction. Between the hills nnd over the lower crest of Baldwin's knob they could even see dimly the far-off plains, a Utile sickly yellow light still lingering there before the advance of (he storai. The hut was made of sfone and logs. They had nut any more thuu reached it before the storm began. Claps of thunder, Hashes of lightning under which (he army on Hie dam were fight- ing, were heard and seen with tenfold clearness by the little group on tho huge upland. It was a sight to awe the very soul of humanity. Miles and miles down the mountain side and among the hills the whirling* battalions of clouds rolled and tumbled and tossed and clashed like aerial armies. The lightning, while it was not In sheets, was prac- tically continuous, flash succeeding flash In uncountable and blinding sue. cession. Again they noticed the strange coruscating, bursting effect as bolt after bolt apparently struck some gran- ite ledge and was then thrown back In splinter* of fire. *riie heavy, awful roll of the thunder was continuous and ter- rific. They stood staring through door and windows in silence, Meade and their quest forgot in the appalling tem- pest by all except the woman. It was she who recalled them. \Let us hasten on,\ she said, and she had almost to scream to make herself heard in the wild tumult. \It's mag- nificent, Wonderful, but—\ As a matter of fact, all the mani- festations of nature at Its grandest would not have sufficed to turn her head away from her lover's face if she 1 could have seen hlin. ! \You can't go now,\ said Winters j decisively, \the rain's bad enough as It is, and that cloud will burst In a ! minufe. Old Noah's flood won't be a eircmnsfance to it.\ \I'm protected from the rain,\ she enswered. Winters shook his head. The weight of It would almost bent ymi down. M.l*< Illingworth.\ \I haven't had any experience with it, tun I think Winters is right,\ said Rodney. \I'll go on alone, [hen.\ said the girl passionately, steppl.ig out of the house, \if you gentlemen don't care to come.\ The next moment, with a culminat- ing scream like the shriek of all the lost souls of creation heard above the furious detonating roar of the thunder, the wind added its quota to the dem- onstration of natural force, and now the rain fairly dropped upon thou in apparently solid sheets. Of co,irse clouds do not burst. Such a tiling is scientifically and meteorologically _im- possible, but anyone who has eve; ex- perienced the suddenness and fury and weight of a western deluge In a nor- mally dry land will understand the terra. The wind swept over the pla- teau, where It had free course like a hurricane; the rain came down in masses apparently. Until their eyes became accustomed to it, the falling water blotted out the landscape. The woman was hurled against the side of the house by the sudden and violent assault of the hurricane. The two men half dragged, half carried her around to the lee side of the cabin. The roof of the hut had given way here and there, and within It was soon flooded. Where they stood, however, by chance happened to be the solidest part of the overhang of the rocf, and they were in some degree protected, that is, from the direct violence of the downpour. They were, of course, drenched In a few minutes in spite of their raincoats. With one man on ei- ther side of her to give her as much protection as possible, the woman leaned against the stone wall and stared through the rain down the val- ley, seeking to see the dam, perhaps a mile and a half away. Of course the maximum of the downpour could not last any more than the maximum of the gale, but the deluge was succeeded by a heavy, driving rain still swept on by a strong wind. Below the mesa the lake was whipped Into foam by the beat of tho rain and rolled Into waves by the as- sault of tho wind. All three of them knew what this deluge portended. The downpour would raise the level of the lake so that it would overflow the dam, which would be swept away, the valley would be Inundated by a flood, like a tidal wave, the incompleted via- duct would be ruined, the town would be overwhelmed, the loss of life and property would be appalling. \The spillway ought to take it,\ shouted Winters, knowing what was mm /& MARY <3*AHAM.M$SR Staring Down at the Dam Helen Il- lingworth Took the Glass From Rod- ney. In the minds of the other two by what was In his own. \It's not finished,\ roared Eodney. , Winters threw up his bands. \Will the dam hold ilJ\ cried thej woman, understanding. \Until the water rises above it. Just as soon as it begins to wash over, It will go, and the quicker for these waves,\ answered Eodney at the top of his voice. \And the bridge and the town,\ screamed the woman. \They too.\ \And father?\ \He'll be all right; they've had warn- ing. The engineers on the dam must know the danger now. They're work- ing like mad.\ He had brought a small six-power fieldglass with him and he was strain- ing his eyes through it. The violence of rain and wind had sensibly abated, although it was still coming down in torrents. With his knowledge of what would probably be attempted, Eodney was able to see through his glass some- thing of what was being done, even at that distance. \They're building palisades on top of the dam, and backing It with an earth mound. See, they are dropping sandbags over,\ he stated, handing the glass to the other man. \By heaven,\ shouted Winters, \they're making a magnificent fight.\ In his excitement he left the shelter of tho hut and stalked through the rain toward the edge of the mesa, where he could have a better and near- er view. In spite of Eodney's remon- strances, even though backed by his outstretched arm, the woman followed. Presently all three, indifferent to the beat of the rain and the assault of the wind, stood watching the battle on the dam. It was abating still more, fortu- nately, or elsp they could scarcely have sustained the attack of that wind and rain, nor could they have seen at all, even with that glass. Staring down at the dam after a mo- ment, Helen Illingworth took the glass from Eodney. She focused It rapidly and looked steadily through it. She knew what she was seeking as she stood steadying herself with splendid nerve and resolution and swept tho length of the dam back and forth. (TO BE CONTINUED.) FLOWERS AND BIRDS. The Trillium family of flowers and the Hepatica family invited the birds to give a concert,\ said Daddy. \ 'We shall give the stage,' they said, 'and you can give the music' \ 'It was really a lovely jdea and the flowers were so beautiful that it made almost every creature around feel Hko singing—so pretty and fresh were they with their de- lightful perfumes. Birds Began Arrive. \The Robins and Orioles nnd Song Sparrows had nil accepted at. once. Later on the Gold Finch family sent word that they would be delighted to join .the concert, and the Grows had oven' asked if they couldn't be allowed to attend tho concert. \They had come together to ask the Hepatica and Trillium families if they could come to the concert. The flow- ers laughed, They shivered and gig- gled in a funny little way they have which sounds to us only like the low murmur of the long grass and flow- ers swaying in the breeze. \Of course they all new the Crows couldn't sing, and would simply spoil the concert. Besides they knew that the Crows would shriek, 'Caw, caw, caw' any time they felt like It, with- out the least Idea of a suitable time. \But the flowers asked the Crows if they would not act as ushers at the concert and show the birds who were not taking part to their perches—for the- birds always say perches Instead of seats. The flowers thought that, there were some nice ones along the ground in some of the low shrubs, and of course the fence was always the best and finest for the boxes held by the mother and father birds. \The Crows were delighted to be asked to net as ushers, for they were much flattered. They forgot all about the singing and went off caw-cawing in a very proud manner. \'They asked us to act as ushers, caw-caw,' they said. 'They wanted smart, handsome black ushers, caw- caw,' they boasted. 'They knew we must make the concert seem very grand, caw-caw,' they bragged. And so on. \The day for the concert came, and the birds all arrived on time. But long before the time for the concert ti> begin the crows reached the out-door concert hall. The flowers were hard- ly awake when the Crows enme caw- ing along, saying, 'We are here. We are ready to show the people to their perches. Must they show their tick- ets? Is It to be a pay-coneert?' \'No said the flowers, shaking their heads, 'it is not to be a pay-con- cert. It is Id be a free concert, for we have invited everyone.' \ 'All right,' said the Crows. 'Caw- caw, we only wanted to know.' \As a matter of fact they only want- ed to talk and make a great deal of noise. They wanted everyone around lo know that they had been chosen as ushers at the concert. \Soon the birds began to arrive. And such a burst of color. The Orioles were looking very lovely with their bright, gay coloring, and the (jiild Finch family looked like bright gold. The Robins had such handsome red walst- crmls on and the Song Sparrows were singing merrily and saying; \ *WD are happy and gay and true. \ 'Kven If wo are not much to see. ' 'For though our colors aro noL very bright, \ 'We ean pluy by day and sleep at nteht, \ 'And wo, without line feathers and frills, \ 'Will sing you now our very best trills.' \To be sure the Song Sparrows sang bountifully, and all the other birds were saying, •Twit, t-wit, chirp, c-h-I-r-p,' which was their way of saying 'bravo.' \All the birds! sang and the Crows showed all the guests to their perches. The flow- ers were the stage, and how proud they were to give their beauty -'or the decorations. \The Butterflies came because Mr. Sun had Invited them. And Mr. Sun's guests were al- ways welcome. \The Humming birds and Thrushes came, too, nnd before the day was over, Mr. Sun said: \ 'Well, I don't know when I havo had such a noted gathering to shine upon, for I have had the lovely flow- ers, the birds, Butterflies, and the handsome Crows.' \So everyone was very happy, as the. great Mr. Sun had paid them such fine compliments!\ \They . Wante'd. Black Ushers.\ The Right of Choice. You cannot always choose your as- sociates, hut you rtxn select your com- panion-;. Circumstances may throw you with people win), are distasteful'to you, and rhvutnstances cannot forco you to take them to your hearts and into .vour confidence, Choice is stronger than environment, Wherever you ur<>, you always have the priv- ilege of choosing.—Girls' Companion.
