Startled into confusion by the sudden illumination of the room and the ominous command, the two robbers became panic-stricken, and made a dash for the window. But the officer and Bolton were too quick for them. Their revolvers cracked simultaneously, and both men went down, badly wounded. After this their capture was easy, and they were soon disarmed and secured. They were taken to jail, where their wounds were dressed, and when they finally recovered were sent to prison. Paul, of course, recovered his money, but the members of the Building and Loan Association were so grateful for the valuable service he had rendered them that they clubbed together and paid up his mother’s book for several months to come. THE PLUMAGE HUNTER. Not very long ago the writer accompanied a gold-mining expedition into the tropical forests of Guiana, and stumbled across an English traveler who was collecting birds for a London and Parisian firm of merchants. He was settled in a village of Acawois Indians, far from any of the haunts of the white man. Every male Indian of the village was in his service, and at the conclusion of each week they received pay, according to results, in cheap knives, powder, hatchets, cooking utensils, et cetera; pay day being usually celebrated by a feast, in which all the men got fearfully intoxicated on a filthy compound called paiwarri. We started out every morning immediately after breakfast. The Indians were armed with bows and arrows and blowpipes. The collector divided them into sections, and sent them off into the bush, himself accompanying one group, but without doing any shooting. I fastened on to a man and a boy, and kept close in their wake all day. With the skill of a denizen of the woods, my man did not walk a step without rousing a feathered creature of some sort. Sometimes a large bird--a toucan or a macaw--would flap clumsily out of a bush, and the twang of the bowstring would announce its death. Small birds fluttered across our path constantly, and these were promptly brought down with the pipe. Now and then a flight of a score or two would suddenly settle all over in the branches about our heads, and on these occasions the Indian managed to kill a dozen or so before they appeared to realize their danger. It was kill, kill, kill, without a moment’s pause. As the birds fell, the boy secured the bodies and dropped them into a long wicker basket, which was strapped across his forehead and hung down his back.