A

SECRETS.

BY EMMA C. DOWD.

WHERE is the dearest place to lie?
The very best place to laugh or cry?
In the whole wide world, from east to west,
The safest, warmest, coziest nest?

Only the babies know

The glad, glad babies know!

What is most precious to have and to hold?
Worth more than its weight in rubies or gold?
The fairest, purest, loveliest thing

That earth can give and Heaven can bring?
Only the mothers know-

The glad, glad mothers know!

HOW TO ACT AS CHAIRMAN. BOY may be called upon to preside at a meeting held by boys, and of course he will want to acquit himself with credit. The position is a trying one even to adults, so it is well for a boy to have at least a general knowledge of his duties; and as many boys have neither the opportunity nor the inclination to inform themselves, I subjoin a few hints that may be useful to them.

When a boy accepts the office of chairman, it would be proper for him to express in a few earnest words his appreciation of the honor conferred. If the association has already been organized, the order of business would be as follows, unless otherwise provided for in the by-laws:

1. Roll-call; 2. Reading of the minutes; 3. Unfinished business; 4. New business; 5. Adjournment.

Under 3 and 4 could be transacted all the business that would come before the meeting. New committees could be appointed under the head of new business, and the reports of previously appointed committees could be heard under the head of unfinished business.

If it is a meeting for the purpose of organization, the work would be of a somewhat different character. The next thing in order after the selection of a chairman, would be the selection of a secretary. The object of the meeting should then be stated, and the preliminaries of organization begun. Business would be considerably hastened by the appointment of committees on name, object, constitution and by-laws, etc. Their reports would be intelligent topics for discussion, and more rapidly lead to a permanent organization. It is the custom to appoint as chairman of a committee the person who moved the appointment of the committee.

The chairman should recognize the boy who rises to speak by calling him by name, if possible. The boy first on his feet has the right to be first heard if he is in order; but if he has already spoken several times on the same subject, the chairman has the right to decline to hear him, and to designate another boy who has arisen, but has not yet been heard. A boy who has spoken upon a question has the right to speak again on an amendment to the question. The chairman should distinctly state the motion, and then ask, Are you ready for the question?" whereupon it is open for discussion. The latter can be brought to a close by a call for the question, and the chairman must then put it to vote.

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A motion to adjourn is always in order, and must be decided without debate. Some manuals vary in this respect, and say it is not in order when a member is speaking, or when a question has been put, or while a vote is being taken; they admit, however, that when the motion

is in order it is not debatable. The chairman, after saying, "It is moved and seconded that we adjourn," should not add, "Are you ready for the question?" for the question is not debatable. The same rule applies to a motion to lay on the table-that is to indefinitely postpone action upon the matter under discussion."

A motion can be amended, and the amendment can be amended. In such cases the amendment to the amendment is first taken up, then the amendment, and finally the original motion.

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There are parliamentary tactics for delaying or defeating projects, rattling" the chairman, etc.; but as the average boy does not know how to use them, the boychairman will hardly be called upon to deal with them. He should be impartial and courteous himself, and insist upon decorum in others. Above all things, he should guard against indecision. It is an admission of weakness, and a reef against which he will go to pieces. He should decide all questions at once-and it is better to decide improperly than not to decide at all. No note may be taken of it, and should there be, there is a remedy. Those who feel aggrieved can seek redress by appealing from his decision. In such an event the chairman asks some one else to occupy the chair until the appeal is put and determined. The chair is generally sustained in the interest of harmony and out of respect for the chairman. If it is, he can consider himself commended; if not sustained, he can look upon it as a rebuke. In either case he should smile blandly, and resume the chair which he had temporarily vacated. F. H. STAUFFER.

dried and brown skeletons against the snow. There is the pretty ragweed, for instance (Ambrosia); who has ever said anything good of it? Its copious pollen is accused of being the provoking cause of hay-fever. Even Burroughs, who certainly might have been expected to discover some redeeming trait in the weed, only heaps ignominy upon it. "Ambrosia, food for the gods,' he says. "It must be the food of the gods if of anything, for, as far as I have observed, nothing terrestrial eats it, not even billy goats"-as if what a goat will not eat is not good for any other living thing's food.

It is certainly delightful food for the eye, with its finely cut, graceful summer foliage and long tapering spires of greenish bloom; but it is in the dried and leafless winter stalks of this and a number of other weeds that we find the best reason for their being. What could the birds tell us? How would the winter buntings, sparrows, finches, and snow-birds bridge over the snow-bound days were it not for this garner of seeds which the weeds hold above the snow?

Generally speaking, the seeds of a plant are supposed to be released upon maturity. We all know how speedily the wind takes care of the dandelion and thistle seeds when the plant has completed their education. Autumn scatters showers of seeds of all kinds with every breeze; but the meadows are full of knowing weeds that refuse to give up their grist; and though a few grains are occasionally wrenched from them, they still hold a generous share for the white days when the

SOME MEADOW CRUMBS.

hungry winter birds will surely need them.

a

or

It is very interesting to go through sloping undulating meadow after a snowfall, and especially after a snowfall that has been followed

by a wind. The snow is peppered with meadowcrumbs dislodged by the gale. If by chance there should be a glassy crust on the snow, we may sample almost the entire grist of the meadow, swept up

into wind

rows and gathered in to bins and pockets. All the little hollows and gullies and and chinks and crannies of the uneven

looking like brown chaffy powder or fine sawdust, with occasional larger grains intermixed. It follows along for quite a distance on the snow at the foot of the steep white weedy slope. It is well worth our while to study it closely. Each handful of the powder swept up at random will have a surprise in store for us. Darwin it was, I believe, who coaxed quite a number of foreign plants from the dirt scraped from the foot of a migrating wild duck. What a garden might we not get next year from a pinch of this meadow snuff, or from a ball of mud rolled in it for only a moment! Not a foreign garden, it is true, but perhaps a beautiful one nevertheless.

Let us see what we might expect, for we can tell pretty nearly what it would be, though we may be sure that it would include a fair number of plants which only the birds care anything about. I have shown a few of crumbs

AFTER A CRUMB.

these which the windrow would give us-some of them only occasionally, and others in great quantity. I am sure that few of my younger readers will remember ever having seen such funny-looking things on the snow or anywhere else, but I can assure them that these are but a few of the precious packages which may be found in the winter fields, and each one of them is as good as a whole plant to the eye of a botanist. There is no mistaking where they come from.

Let us turn our powerful magnifying glass upon each in turn as may be necessary. Here is No. 1, a turtle-shaped seed beset with bristles. That is from the wild carrot, that manages to hold a generous remnant of seeds in its withered nest all winter. No. 2 needs no magnifying-glass, being a large hairy burr nearly the size of a hazel-nut, and armed with cruel thorns, a seed of the hedgehog grass, and not a pleasant thing to handle. No. 3 we all recognize as the same twopronged "beggars-tick " that is so fond of our clothes in the autumn. No. 4 is the urn-shaped kernel of the ragweed. No. 5, the large samara of the elm, though you will find few of them in the winter. No. 6, a pine seed. No. 7, buttercup seed. No. 8, with its rough conical body and fine-toothed crown, is the pretty seed of the sneeze-weed, which certainly deserves a place among our meadow snuff. No. 9 has come from a sedge. No. 10 was blown from the ash-tree, perhaps a half-mile away. No. 11 will be remembered as another of those friendly "beggarsticks." No. 12 was once in the centre of a may-weed blossom. No. 13 is one of that fluttering swarm from the seed cone of the tulip-tree. In No. 14 we have the dainty packet which holds the seed treasure of the pig-weed. The tooth-crowned fruit of chiccory is shown at 15; a wingless milk-weed seed at 16; that of the smart-weed at 17. And we leave the readers to guess at the long line of other representatives from grasses and sedges and other sources; and, like my little flock of birds, to take their pick among them.

THE RED MUSTANG.*

BY WILLIAM O. STODDARD,

AUTHOR OF "Two ARROWS," "THE TALKING LEAVES," "DAB KINZER," ETC.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

RESCUED BY THE RED MUSTANG.

THE scouting party of Mexican cavalry reported or from any support. They had been willing enough to follow the movements of a solitary Indian boy, but were not disposed for a skirmish with the braves who now rode out of the forest behind Tan-tan-e-o-tan. There would have been no brush at all if it had not been for the revengeful tumult in the heart of Ping, and for the fact that he was so splendidly armed and mounted.

The men in uniform yonder belonged to the troops who had slain Kah-go-mish, and Ping shouted, in Apache, "I am the son of a great chief!”

He disobeyed a warning whoop of Tan-tan-e-o-tan, for he was bent upon riding within range, and Dick bore him swiftly onward. All the warlike thoughts and hopes which make up the thoughts of an Indian boy were dan cing wildly around in his fevered brain. He was a warrior, facing the ancient enemies of his race, the men who had killed his father.

Alas for Ping! Range for him was also range for the now retreating cavalry, and his one fruitless shot was replied to by a volley.

"Zst-ping!" he exclaimed, involuntarily shouting his own nickname, as the bullets whizzed past him, and then he felt suddenly sick and dizzy. One ball had not gone by. Dick obeyed the rein, and wheeled toward the forest, but after that he was left to his own guidance. Ping was not unconscious, and he clung proudly, courageously to his rifle Cal's repeater. He held on to the pommel of the saddle with one hand, but he hardly knew more than that he was riding the "heap pony."

Tan-tan-e-o-tan alone followed, at a considerable distance, the wounded son of Kah-go-mish, the other braves dashing away at once to join the band upon its eagerly pushed retreat into the mountains.

Under the shade of the forest trees, near the waning camp fire at which Wah-wah-o-be had cooked his breakfast, lay poor Cal. For him, apparently, all hope had departed, for he had vainly struggled to loosen the forked stakes which held down his hands and his feet.

"I've no chance to pry," he groaned, "or I could do it;" but then that is the very reason why the red men fasten their prisoners in that manner. "I shall die of hunger and thirst and mosquito bites," he said. "It's worse than killing one right off."

Just then he heard the sound of a horse's feet, and he drew his breath hard as he listened. Was it one of the

Apaches come to torture him? Could it be a Mexican? It was a moment of awful expectation, and then he exclaimed," Dick!"

Dick had come. He had found his way to the camp he had left, and had brought home his young rider, but that was all, for Ping reeled in the saddle, and then fell heavily to the earth. He was never to become a war chief of the Mescaleros. His first skirmish had been his last.

"Dick" again shouted Cal, and the faithful fellow at once walked over to where his master lay. He seemed to understand that something was wrong with Cal, for he pawed the ground and neighed and whinnied, as if asking. What does this mean?" Dick's eyes had an excited

* Begun in HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE NO. 516.

One of Dick's pawing forefeet had been unintentionally put down close by Cal's left hand. It was a quick thought, a lightning flash of hope, which led Cal to grasp the hoof with all the strength he had.

in the sudden, hard read that toll Calls, wrist hurts him chance for life and he held on, and the whoop of Tantan-e-o-tan was given as he saw the forked stake jerked clean out of the ground.

Dick lifted his foot, oh, how

Forward, with another yell, sprang the angry savage, drawing his knife as he came; but that screech was too much for the nerves of the red mustang. Out went his iron-shod heels, and there was a sharp thud as one of them struck between the eyes of Tan-tan-e-o-tan.

"Hurrah for Dick!" shouted Cal, as his enemy rolled over and over upon the ferns and leaves. "That fellow won't get up again."

Cal could now toil away with his lame hand to set the other at liberty. After that he was glad to find his knife in his pocket, for one of his ankle stakes refused to come up, and had to be whittled through. He worked with feverish, frantic energy, and he barely finished his task in time. Then he hurried forward to regain the belt and rifle which Wah-wah-o-be had so proudly given to Ping. The-boy-whose-ear-pushed-away-a-piece-of-lead would never need them or the "heap pony" any more.

Cal did not mount, but led Dick away into the cover of the forest.

"We should be seen if I rode away now," he said. Hardly was he well concealed behind dense bushes before, as he peered out, he saw Wah-wah-o-be, followed closely by Crooked Nose, gallop into the deserted camp. She had already heard that Ping was wounded, but did not know how badly, and she threw herself upon the ground beside him with a great cry. Crooked Nose bent for one moment over Tan-tan-e-o-tan, and the Apache death whoop rang twice, long and mournfully, through the forest. It was followed by fierce and angry utterances, among which Cal caught something about Mexicans, and then Crooked Nose looked sharply around him.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed. "Heap Pony gone. Pull Stick gone! Big medicine. Bad manitou."

Cal decided that it was time for him to get away, lest others should come, for he did not know how fast the band was retreating. He had a thought, too, of meeting the Mexicans who had wounded Ping. He picked his way carefully, stealthily, among the trees, followed faithfully by Dick, and at the outer border of the forest he mounted. "I can find my way by the sun and by the stars," he said to himself.

Dick pawed the ground, but he said nothing. Cal examined his cartridges; filled two or three empty chambers in his rifle and revolver; tightened the girth of his saddle a little; fixed his belt right-"Dick!" he said, "now for Santa Lucia!"

Away went the red mustang, and if any Indians had followed him they would have lost the race.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

HOW THEY ALL REACHED SANTA LUCIA.

A BAND of Indians who are in a great hurry travel rapidly, even if now and then they leave a worn-out pony behind them. They are also pretty sure to take shortcuts and to save distances, and that was more than Cal Evans was able to do.

The Chiricahua scouts with Captain Moore knew every

inch of the country, and did not permit the cavalry and cow-boys to do any needless travelling.

Late in the forenoon of the third day after Ping's first and last ride upon the "heap pony" all was serenely quiet at Santa Lucia. It was too quiet altogether, because its inmates were in such deep anxiety that they did not feel like doing anything. Reading was impossible, and any Reading was impossible, and any effort at conversation did but repeat the regret that there was no news from Cal or his father. The failure of everything else accounted for the fact that at this hour Vic and her mother were upon the roof, sweeping the horizon with the field-glass.

Suddenly Mrs. Evans held out the glass, exclaiming: "Look, Vic! Cavalry!"

"Oh!" shouted Vic; and in a moment more they were hurrying down and out of the hacienda.

A roll of the prairie had hidden the approach of a column of mounted men until they were pretty near, and now all who wore uniform and a number of others halted at a hundred yards from the stockade gate at which Mrs. Evans and Vic were standing. One man dismounted and walked forward, leading by the hand a strangely dressed but comely-looking Indian girl. His face was flushed and troubled, and the eyes of the girl glanced timidly in all directions, as if seeking a means of escape from meeting those two pale-face squaws.

tense curiosity. She saw nothing but friendliness in the face of Vic, and at last she remarked: "Tah-nu-nu glad Heap Pony get away."

Vic could laugh heartily at that, and she was joined by Tah-nu-nu when the chief's daughter discovered what was next expected of her. She rebelled stoutly at first, but Vic was determined to have her own way, and when they came out again Tah-nu-nu was too proud and shy to utter a word. She wanted to run away and hide, and yet she wished to be seen in her new outfit, for Vic had put upon her a dress which she herself had refused to wear because it was too brightly gay for her sense of dignity. Tah-nu-nu had very pretty moccasins of her own, and now, with white metal ornaments at her throat and upon her wrists, and with a bright red ribbon in her coal-black hair, she was the best-dressed girl of the Mescalero Apaches.

It was a great day for Tah-nu-nu, and Norah McLory and the Mexican servants were explaining to her the wonders of the kitchen during the long time spent by Cal in telling the minute particulars of his adventures in the Cold Spring chaparral and in Mexico. His mother and Vic seemed disposed to keep their hands upon him from the beginning to the end of his story, as if they feared he might again be lost or captured.

Tah-nu-nu awoke in a pale-face bed, in a great lodge,

The same band that took the horses, and that this girl belongs to. Vic, this is Tah-nu-nu. We shall hear from Cal."

It was dreadful news, and it was not possible to hear it calmly.

"Vic," said her father, "don't cry. Cal will surely come back soon, safe and sound. Take Tah-nu-nu into the house."

At that moment they were all startled by a burst of cheering from the mounted men. Cheer followed cheer, and as the group at the gate turned to look, they saw a rider who dashed past the cavalry at full gallop. He was swinging his hat tremendously, but seemed unable to hurrah.

"Colorado!" shouted Sam Herrick. "Cal and the red mustang!"

After that nobody could have told what was said by anybody during a full three minutes. Then there came a sort of breathing spell that was almost silence. They had begun to walk toward the house, and Vie was leading Tah-nu-nu a little in advance of the rest.

"How did you say you managed to get away from Kah-go-mish?" asked Captain Moore.

"It's a pretty long story," said Cal, "but there isn't any Kah-go-mish. He was killed in a fight with the Mexicans."

"Did Ping get in before you left them?" asked Colonel Evans.

"Yes, he did, father. I felt real bad about that. Such a young fellow. Not any older than I am."

hardly felt like a prisoner.

Kah-go-mish is a great chief," she said, for her first thought was of his coming for her release.

An hour or two later she and Vic and Cal took a long horseback ride, and once more Tah-nu-nu admired the "heap pony." She was beginning to feel very much at ease, especially with Cal, for he had been acquainted with her family.

They had been back at the ranch but a short time when Sam Herrick came in and beckoned to Colonel Evans. "What is it, Sam ?"

"Colorado!" exclaimed Sam. "There's an Indian and a squaw come. The red mustang was out there, and the Indian whooped when he sot eyes on to him. They want to see Pull Stick."

"That's my name!" shouted Cal, and he sprang up and hurried out.

He was followed by everybody but Tah-nu-nu, and in a moment he was shaking hands with Crooked Nose and Wah-wah-o-be.

Their errand was briefly given. The whole band, what was left of it, had decided to return to the reservation. They knew that in order to do so safely they must give up the Santa Lucia horses, and they had sent Wah-waho-be to say that they were ready to do it. What they did not add was that they were rich enough with the other quadrupeds won by Kah-go-mish in his successful war with Mexico. They wished to have word sent to the bluecoats. Nobody need follow them, and the horses belonging to Colonel Evans would be delivered next day, with two good Mexican mules to pay for his cattle. It was a capital bargain for him, and reduced his loss to a low figure. He agreed to it at once, and then Wah-waho-be asked for Tah-nu-nu.

The leading features of Cal's capture and escape had already been told, but they were now gone over more minutely, and it was determined not at once to tell Tah

nu-nu.

"I must think the matter over," said Mrs. Evans. "Poor little thing!"

That was what Vic said; but she took Tah-nu-nu to her own room, and the shy, frightened look of the lonely Indian girl began to turn into one of relief, but also of in

the reservation."

Wah-wah-o-be's blanket came up over her head, and her loud, wailing cry was heard inside the house. In a moment more Tah-nu-nu's arms were around her mother, and she knew that she should never again see Kah-go-mish or The-boy-whose-ear-pushed-away-a-piece-of-lead.

Down upon the ground they sat, the great chief's wife and daughter, and it was hours before they could be persuaded to speak or to come into the house. When they at last did so, the mind of Wah-wah-o-be was made up.

Tah-nu-nu would hardly have consented if it had not been for the positive commands of her mother, and if these had not been helped by her wonderful new dress and by the urgency of Vic. She roundly declared, however, that she would never hoe corn.

Crooked Nose had very little to say after his first errand was completed, but just before he rode away he led Cal a little to one side. They were out in front of the adobe, and Dick was standing near them, unsaddled, unbridled, very much as if he were a house-dog, with a right to step around anywhere.

"Ugh!" said Crooked Nose. "Pull Stick get away again. How?"

"Heap Pony," said Cal, pointing to the red mustang. "Ugh!" said Crooked Nose; "who kill Tan-tan-e-o-tan?" "Heap Pony," replied Cal again.

"Ugh! Heap bad medicine. No like him. Pull Stick got manitou."

Something like that, in a higher and better form, was what Cal's mother had been telling him. She also declared that she meant to do all in her power for the squaw who brought Cal his gourd of water when he was all but dying of thirst, and for her bright-eyed daughter. Something very good was, therefore, in store for Tah-nu-nu. Perhaps it was something which Ping could not or would not have taken.

Wah-wah-o-be kept her word, and when she returned she brought quite a drove of horses, mules, and ponies with her, as the property of Kal-go-mish, and Colonel Romero was not there to identify any of them. Cal did not know one from another, whether they were Apache bred or Mexican, and he said so.

There was really but one horse in the world that he cared much about. In fact, not only he and his family, but the cow-boys and Wah-wah-o-be and Tah-nu-nu, were disposed to attach an almost human idea to the uncommon qualities of head and heart which had been displayed by the red mustang.

THE END.