"Yes, sir," said Conny; "there's a deal of game running these nights."

"What sort of game do you folks hunt with rifles up here?" asked Dougla.s.s; but Conny did not answer, and in a few moments they came out upon the open road, and saw the lights of Dunsmore about a mile before them.

Old Timothy was on the look-out, and long before they reached the house they saw his lantern moving about the barn.

"Here we are!" called Joe, throwing down the lines and springing out; and in the happy confusion of the greetings no one looked at Conny, until the doctor, taking his hand from the side of Prince, started to see that it was stained with blood.

"What! Why, bless us! Conny, what has happened to you?"

"I think I have a little hurt somewhere in me shoulder, sir," said Conny, sliding from the horse; "it's nothing much, sir, if you'd have the goodness to fix me a little at the barn."

But the doctor would not hear to such a thing, and took Conny to the surgery, where he discovered that the bones of his arm were broken above the elbow; and most unwillingly Conny told the story.

How he had recognized the cry of warning, and understood that the young gentlemen were mistaken for revenue officers, and that mischief would probably be done them unless he could succeed in preventing the attack.

"And so you invited them to empty their rifles on you," said the doctor, gruffly; but as he spoke he wiped his eyes on a roll of bandages.

"It's good luck it was me, sir," said Conny. "Wouldn't it have spited us if Master Joe had been spoiled with a broken arm, and all the fun we've been planning gone for nothing?"

"But the rascals might have killed you."

"I don't think they're that bad, sir; they were meaning a bit of a scare, and maybe a drubbing or the likes."

"I'll drub them," said the doctor; "I'll make this county too hot for them," and then, having finished dressing the arm, he threw his own dressing-gown over Conny. "My boy," he said, gently, "I understand perfectly well what a brave thing you have done: you risked your own life to save our Joe. I honor you and love you for it from my heart, but you and I will keep it a secret between us for the present. I think it would kill my wife to know her boy had been in such danger. She shall not know it till that nest of murderers is cleared out."

Conny's part in Master Joe's vacation was not exactly what he had planned, but he scarcely regretted the wound that brought him such gentle and loving care from every member of the family, by whom it was only understood that Conny had been accidentally shot by a careless hunter, and had borne his pain in silence all the long ride home from the Glen.

Months afterward, when the last moonshiner had disappeared, and the old still in the forest had been dismantled, the doctor ventured to tell his wife of Joe's escape.

"And I have never thanked him," she said, her eyes filling with tears, as she went straight to the attic, where Conny was so deeply absorbed in a bit of carving that he did not see or hear her until she put her arms around him and kissed him again and again.

"I know all about it now, Conny--the brave, beautiful thing that you did for my boy."

"Oh, ma'am," said Conny, "it was nothing. I was so glad to do it."

Mrs. Hunter kissed him again, as she repeated, gently, "'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"

And Conny, not understanding, said, earnestly, "Maybe you'll think me presuming to be saying it, but it's that same I'd do for ye, ma'am, or for little Miss Betty, or the master himself, if it's any good it would be bringing ye."

"I believe you Conny," said Mrs. Hunter, "but I hope you may never have a chance to try."

THE END.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LITTLE MISS TURNER.

BY W. T. PETERS.

"Oh, where have you been to, My little Miss Turner-- Oh, where have you been to to-day?

I've brought you my wagon To take you a-riding; So why have I found you away?"

"Oh, I've been to the meadows,"

Said little Miss Turner, "With sweet robin-redbreast at play; And the daisies and daffodils Made me a bow, And said, 'How do you do to-day?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: ROASTING EARS.--DRAWN BY S. G. MCCUTCHEON.]

EGYPTIAN WONDERS.

It is said that an Egyptian Prince dreamed one night of an obelisk, and when he awoke ordered his engineers and his workmen to carve in solid stone the strange and useless device. An obelisk resembles nothing so much as the fanciful figures of a dream. It is a tall square pillar of a peculiar form, often carved with hieroglyphics, and commemorating the name and exploits of its founder. These solitary pillars of stone, sometimes more than a hundred feet in height, are formed of one block or piece, and must have been cut in the quarry with incessant labor. They abound in Egypt, and were a common decoration of its immense temples.

Later, several of them were transported on great rafts or ships to the city of Rome. There are in all twelve in that city. One of them is one hundred and nine feet high without the base--a solid piece of red granite. Europe has despoiled Egypt of its obelisks. Paris has one; London another, crumbling away on the banks of the Thames; and we have one in New York. The dream of the Egyptian Prince seems to have a strong interest for all ages.

All Egypt, its history, its cities, its buildings, its mummies, G.o.ds, cats, hawks, bulls, sphinxes, the Memnonium, resemble the fancies of a dream. The Nile flows through its sandy plain, and covers it with fertility. Late discoveries have shown that it is one of the longest rivers in the world, rising among the high mountains of Africa, and fed by immense lakes. In Egypt it overflows its banks every year, and covers the land with a rich deposit of mud. On its sh.o.r.es are the ruins of the strangest of all architecture, the works of the ancient Egyptians--immense, grand, awful. They are the largest of all buildings.

St. Paul's Cathedral, in London, or the Cologne Cathedral, or even St.

Peter's, at Rome, would be lost in the vast circuit of the columns of Luxor and Karnak. As one pa.s.ses them by moonlight on the smooth stream, they seem, it is said, the palaces of giants. One temple was a mile and a half in circ.u.mference. The Pyramids exceed all other buildings in strength, height, and durability. Some of them are four or five thousand years old.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]

Very tasteful ornamental covers for the first volume of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, which will conclude with No. 52, issued October 26, 1880, are now ready, and will be sold for thirty-five cents, or forty-eight cents if sent by mail, postage prepaid. These covers are not self-binding, but any book-binder will put them on for a small charge.

We wish to call the attention of those of our readers engaged in making exchanges to the great importance of careful and clearly written addresses. We receive proofs daily of the neglect of this essential point. In Post-office Box No. 46 we printed a letter from a correspondent anxious to make an acknowledgment of a pretty mineral, but who was unable to do so because she "could not make out the name" of the sender. Another correspondent, whose correct address was printed in full in Our Post-office Box, received a letter on which the only correct portion of the direction was his own name and the city in which he lived, the name and number of the street, and even the State, being entirely wrong. That he ever received it at all is a proof of the great experience and skill of Uncle Sam's Post-office Department. Now such a very careless method of direction might result in the loss of valuable minerals, stamps, or other specimens.

Other correspondents report having received letters without name or address of any kind, and yet the sender expected to be answered, and was no doubt disappointed, as he was probably unaware that he had omitted a very important part of his letter.

We have ourselves received large numbers of correct answers to puzzles, often accompanied by the pretty appeal, "Do, please, print my name in the list of those sending correct answers," and neither initials, name, nor even address attached upon which we could base an acknowledgment.

When the answers were published, and those little folks found their solutions were correct, and yet their names didn't appear, no doubt they thought themselves very badly treated; but the fault was not ours.

Now when you direct a letter for purposes of exchange, copy the whole address given in Our Post-office Box very carefully and clearly. And give your own address in full, very plainly written, or else, even should your letter reach its destination, you probably will not receive an answer.

Learn to bestow care and attention upon little things now while you are young, and as you grow older you will find it easier to be careful in things of greater importance, and thereby save yourself and others from much unnecessary trouble.