The Day Book

$1,000 REWARD

By George Elmer Cobb.

(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)

Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!

Stridently there hammered out upon the air the measured beat of a big bass drum. Stalwart, free-armed, Jed Hawkins stood at his task

Stood at His Task Resolutely.

resolutely as a maestro at the baton stand.

Before him, propped in a low tree crotch, was a home-made sheet of music, its sparse notes big as eggs. This was his "score."

Over the neighboring fence old Seth Brown protruded his broad tanned face, set all in a capacious grin.

"What ye think yer doin', Jed?" he propounded.

"Practicing," was the terse, serious reply.

"You call that music!" derided Brown,

" 'Twill be, when it mixes in with the rest of the band."

"What band?"

"The village band—I've joined it. There's just as much system to a drum as there is to a flute. Nature's music isn't all bird song—there's frog croakings, too."

Seth Brown went on his way, chuckling.

The lonesome boomings of the big drum were dismal. Besides, he had a poor opinion of Jed Hawkins.

In the first place, his pretty daughter, Nellie, liked Jed.

In the next place, she had her pick of several richer swains.

"I'll admit Jed is steady," ruminated the practical old man, "but he's slow and poky. Well, it will take him so long to save enough to get married on that Nellie will get tired waiting and marry some one else."

"Slow but sure," was the way Nellie put it to herself. "Dear fellow! He loves me and that's enough, and I'll wait fifty years for him, if I have to."

"A little extra money everything counts," reflected patient, honest Jed.

"The band gets four dollars a head an evening for playing at dances. Next winter it will be three times a week—"boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!" and Jed proceeded industriously to beat out the notes of his score.

"Well, dear," challenged him, and he turned to face his loyal sweetheart, bright-faced and cheery as usual—"how are you getting on?"

"I can play the whacks where they're marked to come in," explained Jed. "I reckon I can fill the bill."

Nellie had been to the post office. She carried the weekly town newspaper in her hand. This she opened and held it before the face of her lover, her dainty forefinger indicating a great black type advertisement.

"Look, dear," she directed and Jed read it in his slow accurate way.

"A thousand dollars reward," he said, "I'd find the child for nothing,
if I could. Poor little tot! No clue, eh?

"No, replied Nellie, the paper says that Ida Strong has been kidnapped and probably carried to a distance. Her parents are frantic. They only hope that, once they safely in hiding, those who stole her will offer her for ransom."

"They're rich enough to pay a big one," remarked Jed. "How well I recall the little one. Only a week ago I gave her a pretty red apple and rode her on my shoulder down the square."

"When is your first band playing?" asked Nellie, changing the subject.

"Saturday night. It isn't a very select dance, or I'd ask you to go. It's over at Jung's Corners. They're a rough lot around there, you know. Their shindigs generally break up in a row."

"Take care of yourself, dear, won't you?" said Nellie softly.

"And the four dollars yes, indeed! The first nest egg for a home. Give me a kiss on it, Nellie."

She gave him a dozen, and was proud of the artless but earnest young fellow who fairly worshiped the ground she trod on.

A great clumsy carry-all conveyed the rural band over to Jung's Corners on Saturday evening. Jed had not exaggerated the conditions prevalent with that community of lawless roysterers and rude river men. There were ten members of the band. They placed their instruments in a small room back of the dance hall and sat around until the crowd arrived.

Then when the last number was played off the program, they again stored their instruments and accepted the invitation to supper from the proprietor of the place.

Jed noticed half a dozen fights in progress as he was the first of the party to go after his instrument.

When he got into the poorly lighted store room he rolled his bulky drum near to the door. It was quite heavy and he usually asked some one to help him when it had to be carried.

Just then he paused and bent his ear sharply. A thin piping wail proceeded from beyond a door in one corner of the room. It was bolted.

Jed unslipped the bolt.

"Gracious me!" he ejaculated, and well he might.

In a wretched adjoining apartment a little child lay sobbing on a pallet.

"Ida Strong!" gasped Jed and then he advanced towards the child. The light from the dancing hall permeated the room. "Don't you know me, Ida?"

"Oh, yes, sure I do!" palpitated the little one, putting up her thin wavering hands. "Oh, Mr. Hawkins! Please take me away from here. I've been locked up for a week and I heard them say they were going to take me further from home tomorrow."

"Do just as I tell you," whispered Jed, an exciting thought coming into his mind.

Then there were some strange and rapid movements in the room and then, as the cornet player appeared and took up his instrument, Jed sang out.

"Help me get this clumsy old baggage of mine to the wagon, will you?"

"Say! it's pretty heavy, isn't it?" propounded the man as he took hold of one side of the drum.

"Rather bulky, yes," nodded Jed. "Go easy-that's it," and he gave a great breath of relief as the big drum was hoisted aboard the carry-all.

He sat well back in the wagon near to his precious drum, when they got started on their homeward route.

Jed was nervous, for he bent his ear many a time anxiously as if seeking for signs of pursuit.

There were none and as the horses reached the top of the last hill overlooking the home town, he pulled the drum towards him.

He unstrung its great moon-faced top.

"All right, little one!" he hailed, and the child he had secreted in the
big, roomy drum put out her arms and climbed into his lap.

His companions in the carry-all stared at child and man in open-mouthed wonder.

Their eyes goggled as he told of his unique plan to rescue her.

"You see, some of that lawless gang down at the Corners had her hidden away in Jung's place," explained Jed.

"And you get a thousand dollars," shouted the leader of the band.

"Yes, the reward is yours," chorused half a dozen voices.

"Not so slow and poky, after all," commented Farmer Brown, when he came to know that Jed Hawkins had fairly won the price of a home for his pretty daughter, Nellie.