Coppertown, and we'll save the money yet."

It was difficult work up the stony bed of the branch, but it was finally accomplished, and the Happy Thought was again under way, though at a reduced speed, for the wood road was not in very good repair. Three, five, ten miles, and the boys began to breathe freely. It looked as though fortune had turned in their favor at last.

"It seems to have grown hazy," said Fred, a few moments later, "and the sky and the sun are as yellow as gold."

"My eyes are smarting," returned Jack, with a cough. "I believe it's smoke; and look there!"

A number of birds were flying over their heads, chattering and squawking wildly.

"They fly as though they were frightened," said Fred, soberly. "Why, there are all kinds—quail, blue-jays, wood-cock, and even a couple of crows."

A deer burst from the thicket and came galloping past them, with eyes starting in terror and dilated nostrils. The woods seemed suddenly alive with rabbits and other small game, all fleeing as though for their lives.

"The woods," gasped Fred—"they are on fire!"

From their position of the moment they could get an extended view around. To their dismay the fire was already on three sides of them and rapidly closing in. They could not go back, the wind was driving the flames directly across the road behind them. The only chance was ahead, and it was full two miles to the open. In any event they would have to make a final dash through the flames.

It was little that Fred could afterwards recall of that wild ride. The smoke came in thick eddying, blinding, suffocating gusts, and cinders, first black and then redly alive, fell thick about them.

"Another half-mile," thought Fred, desperately, as the Happy Thought bounced along over the rough road, now lurching to one side and now to another, but keeping her feet like a circus acrobat.

A turn in the road and he could see the open, but it was a flaming curtain that hung between; the fire was across the road. And what was that that lay directly athwart their path, and in the very centre of the fiery furnace? It was a log some eight or ten inches in diameter.

It was a snap decision, but Fred recognized that it meant certain death to stop. To put the Happy Thought straight at the obstruction, like a steeple-chaser at a hurdle—it was a slim chance, but the only one. He could feel the hot breath of the fire on his cheeks, the pungent smoke was gripping his throat like a vise. "Hold hard!" and at thirty miles an hour Fred felt the Happy Thought strike the rounded surface of the log fair and square. The slightest possible shock, and they seemed to be sailing on, on, on, into endless space.

When he opened his eyes he was lying on the counter in the Copper Company's office, with the superintendent bending over him.

"All right, my boy?"

"Where's Jack—and the Happy Thought?"

"Safe and sound. Your partner could steer the machine from his seat, you know, and you were so wedged in that you could not fall. And I was driving past and saw you."

"And the money—it's safe?" Fred sat up and pointed to the package lying on the counter.

"That! Why, that's some porous plasters I ordered from the city. Glad you brought them up for me."

"Porous plasters!"

The superintendent laughed. "My dear boy, you brought the money with you on your Tuesday trip. I thought you didn't know it, for you forgot to take my receipt. I've just signed for it now."

"That's what Mr. Simmons meant by being careful," put in Jack. "He never actually said that the money was in this package."

"Well," said Fred, after a pause, "there were some other people that got fooled too—'Smooth Jim,' for instance."

"And we've got him," returned the superintendent, grimly. "We were looking for a job of this kind, and that is why the money was sent up Tuesday. The fire drove them out of the woods plump into the sheriff's arms."

"Tell me," said Fred to Jack, when they were alone, "how in the world did the Happy Thought ever jump that big log?"

"Big log! Why, Fred, you're dreaming. Wait a minute; I do remember going over a bean-pole just before you fainted."

"Oh," said Fred, shortly.

"I declare," grumbled Mr. Simmons the next day, as he looked at the express-book, "you boys are awful careless. You never got a receipt for them porous plasters."

FRIENDS.

Never a flower so debonair,
And full of a gallant grace,
As the golden-rod that on ledge or sod
Seeks but a foothold's spare.
Asking not for the garden's bed,
Shelter or care at all,
Standing with pride by the highway side,
Or climbing the mountain wall.

Ever beside her own true knight
The dear little aster lifts
Her purple bloom, in light or gloom,
Clothing ravines and rifts
With a royal robe that is fair to see,
While she answers back the nod,
Queenly and bright, on vale and height,
Of her lover, the golden-rod.

Margaret E. Sangster.

THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF THE CHILDREN OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

Patriotism, that powerful and ennobling sentiment, has always in America taken a deep hold upon the hearts of its people, and to-day the love of home and country is as strong and permanent there as in the early colonial period or the thrilling times of '76.

MRS. D. LOTHROP.

Within the past few years the formation of the many patriotic orders of men and women has done much to rouse afresh and to extend the feeling of national pride and devotion, and now the children of America are to have this same impetus, for the National Society of the Children of the American Revolution is already founded, and rapidly gathering within its hospitable doors the children and youth from all over the land. And the best part of it is that although only lineal descendants of colonial and Revolutionary ancestors may become regular members, an invitation and warm welcome are extended to all children of no matter what ancestry or nationality, to join in the public gatherings of the society, and to enjoy its pleasures and benefits. In this way the true spirit of patriotism may reach every boy and girl, and there is no limit to the society's scope or influence. This movement may thus be said to be one of the broadest and most beneficent yet started, and one that will tend to popularize the work of the public schools toward patriotism and good government.

At the age of eighteen years the girls may pass into the ranks of the Daughters of the American Revolution, while their brothers at twenty-one enter the Sons of the American Revolution.

The idea of having a young folks' organization first originated with Mrs. Daniel Lothrop, known in every household numbering children as "Margaret Sidney," author of that much-loved book Five Little Peppers, and a score of others. Such a happy and far-reaching scheme was sure to be the thought of just such a woman as Mrs. Lothrop, for her warm heart and fertile brain have always been busy in helping boys and girls.