compliment. “You hit it right that time. The whole world is mad except for you and me. And I’m not so sure of you, either,” he modified, with a gravity that would have been comical under any other circumstances.

While he was speaking, Joe was giving quick directions in a low voice to the men nearest him.

“Get the fellows to spread out on all sides of the lumber pile,” he said to Ed Wilson. “You, Tom,” he went on to Tom Davis, “go quietly out on the tracks. Then if he does throw the baby down, we’ll at least have a chance to catch it or break its fall.”

The others slipped away like shadows and Joe once more sought to engross the madman’s attention.

“Oh, but you must be sure of me,” he expostulated in answer to what the lunatic had said. “Just watch the signs I give you, and if you can do the same that will prove that we both belong to the same lodge.”

The disordered wits of the man above saw something interesting in this, and he nodded gravely.

Joe stretched out his left hand and made a number of mysterious passes in the air, at the same time closing and unclosing his fingers.

Then he stopped and the man extended his left arm and went through the same motions as nearly as he could.

“Good!” cried Joe, and the madman capered about in childish pleasure at the commendation.

“Now, do this,” commanded Joe, and he went through a similar lot of mummery with the right hand.

The crazy man imitated him, but to do it he had to change the baby from his right arm to the left, and this gave Joe an inspiration.

“Now, here’s the hardest thing,” said Joe, as he lifted both arms at once and made them revolve. “If you can do this, I’ll know for sure that you’re all right.”

The stranger started to lift both arms to imitate Joe’s revolutions, but found himself encumbered by the baby. He looked at Joe in a sheepish way, as though for advice.

“Of course you’ll have to lay the baby down,” said Joe, carelessly. “You can’t make the right motions unless you do.”

The lunatic looked at him with a sudden glint of suspicion in his eyes, but Joe was so apparently indifferent that he slowly laid the baby down.

Joe’s heart was beating high now with excitement as the critical moment approached that would test the success of the plan that had suddenly darted into his brain.

A number of the village boys had been building a snow fort and having a mock battle in the lumber yard that afternoon. The snow was very wet and the snowballs that had been formed from it had almost the consistency of stone. A number of these “soakers” were still lying about and Joe saw his chance.

“Sam,” he murmured in a low voice to Sam Berry. “Make me three or four hard snowballs about as big as a baseball. Don’t ask me why but make them hard and quick.”

Sam asked no questions but worked frantically, and soon stood alongside Joe with his hands behind his back.

“All ready, Joe,” he whispered. “Just reach out when the time comes and I’ll put one in your hand.”

The time had nearly come. Joe’s manœuvering had brought it about that the baby was out of the madman’s hands. The last step remained to be taken.

“That’s fine,” roared Joe, as the stranger, after making both hands revolve in the air, was about to pick up the baby. “Now, there’s just this one thing more and if you can do that, it will prove that you and I are brother members of the same lodge.”

Joe placed both hands on top of his head and began to revolve his body slowly so as to present his back to the man above. In this position he remained for about fifteen seconds.

“Can you do that?” he asked solemnly.

“Of course I can,” responded the other eagerly. “Just watch.”

He slowly revolved until he stood with his back toward Joe.

Now was the latter’s opportunity.

“Quick!” he muttered to Sam Berry.

Sam put in his hand a ball of snow that was almost as solid as a stone. Joe’s fingers tightened about it and his muscles grew taut.

Many a time before had he felt that queer thrill go through his arm and shoulder as he stood before some batsman in a critical period of the game and tried to strike him out. But this time much more than a game was at stake. A human life depended upon the sureness of his aim.

He took careful aim at the back of the madman’s head and sent the icy snowball whizzing as though from a catapult.

HE SENT THE ICY SNOWBALL WHIZZING AS THOUGH FROM A CATAPULT.

Straight as an arrow it found its mark. It struck the stranger just at the base of the skull and he went down like a bullock smitten by an axe.

A wild cheer rose from the crowd as they saw the man fall. The next minute Joe had swarmed up the lumber pile with the agility of a monkey and clasped the baby in his arms.

He was rapidly followed by others, who secured the stranger. Ropes were called for, and he was bound before he could recover consciousness. A doctor who was in the crowd examined him and found that he was suffering from shock but that his skull had not been fractured and there would be no serious results from the blow.

In the meantime, Joe was surrounded by a delirious throng that clapped him on the back, tried to grasp his hand, and in general deported itself as though it had just escaped from an asylum.

“What’s the matter with Matson?” shouted one enthusiast.

“He’s all right!” yelled the crowd.

“Who’s all right?”

“Joe Matson!” came back the shout in undiminished volume.

“Oh, cut it out, fellows,” growled Joe good-naturedly, feeling himself getting pink to the tips of his ears. “The first thing to do is to get this baby home to its mother.”

The baby seemed to think this was good sense, and urged the good work along by howling so lustily, that Joe quickened his steps in his eagerness to be rid of his burden. It was all very well to rescue babies, but he felt awkward and helpless when it came to handling them and he looked forward to the Bilkins home as a harbor of refuge.

Fortunately, in snatching the baby out of the cradle, the madman had gathered up the bedclothes with it, so that the infant had not suffered from cold. Its lungs anyway were in good condition, as Joe was willing to testify, and it did not seem to have suffered in any way from its involuntary flight through the town.

It was not long before Joe reached the panic-stricken home where neighbors were ministering to the frantic mother and assuring her with a brave show of confidence that her baby would soon be restored. She gave a scream of delight when Joe appeared with the little pink, fluffy bundle in his arms, and in a moment she had snatched it from him and was smothering it with kisses.

This was Joe’s chance and he was trying to make a “quick sneak,” as he