TONY BUCKDEN.” Frank Reade, Jr., drew a deep breath as he finished reading this stirring epistle. His eyes shone like stars and his whole being was stirred up. It was certainly just the kind of a trip he would fancy. His adventurous spirit was fired and he muttered: ‪“That is a new field to explore. Ah! I would like to try it. But let me see! This letter has been coming by lazy stages and has been three weeks on the way. The cablegram was received a few days ago. Since then he has become lost in the jungle. Poor Tony! He must be rescued, and who is there to do it but me?” Frank passed down the street in deep abstraction of mind. The wind was chill and piercing, and there was snow in the air, as well as on the ground. Suddenly around a corner came a man on the dead run. But as his feet struck a bit of ice, they went out from under him, and he went sliding clear across the sidewalk and into a vast snow bank. He was literally buried, but quickly dug himself out, spluttering and jawing like mad. “I jes’ pays yo’ back fo’ dat, I’ish. Yo’ jes’ stop yo’ foolin’ wif dis chile, or yo’ gits inter trubbel right away. Jes’ yo’ hear dat.” “Whurroo! Bejabers, it’s a foine looking naygur yez are now. Ha, ha, ha! Yez would pass for a Santa Claus now to be shure. It’s nearer white yez are than yez iver will be agin.” The victim of the snow bank, who, as the reader may have guessed, was a negro, dug the snow from his ears and eyes with supreme rage and disgust. His companion was an Irishman, as his rich brogue would indicate. They had been having a lark at snow-balling, and the Irishman was chasing the negro around the corner when he took his fall. It required but a glance for Frank Reade, Jr., to recognize the skylarkers. They were faithful servitors of his, and were named Barney and Pomp. They were a legacy from Frank’s father, and in all the famous young inventor’s travels these servants had accompanied him. Nobody could be more attached to a master than they were to Frank. And now, as they caught sight of him approaching, they straightened up and both doffed their hats. “I’se done glad to see yo’, Marse Frank.” ‪“I hope yez air well, Misther Frank.” ‪“Barney and Pomp!” cried Frank, eagerly. ‪“You are just the fellows I want to see.” ‪“Whurroo!” shouted Barney. “We’re ready for anythin’, Misther Frank, from a shindy to a ruction.” “I don’t doubt it,” replied Frank with a smile. “But here’s a letter you may read, and tell me what you think of it.” ‪“A letther!” gasped Barney. He took the missive, and with Pomp at his shoulder, it was read by both. Frank watched them intently. It was evident that the letter had made a powerful impression upon them. ‪“Well!” said Frank, when they had finished. ‪“What do you think of it?” “Be jabers I’d loike nothing betther than a go at some av them forty foot snakes. Shure it’s a foine thrip that would be fer ther Stheam Man, Misther Frank.”