"We 'll be right over," said Jud, hanging up the receiver and breaking the news to his friends.

"Listens good," said Will, while Joe grunted approvingly.

"It's a pity old Jim ain't young and supple enough to go on these trips with us himself," remarked Jud, complacently.

"He ten years younger than you," suggested Joe, slyly, who always delighted in teasing the old trapper about his age.

"Where do you get such stuff?" returned Jud, indignantly. "Jim Donegan 's old enough to be my father or my brother, anyway," he finished, staring sternly at his grinning guests.

"You 're quite right, Jud," said Will, soothingly. "Let 's go, though, before that scientist chap gets away."

"He no get away," remarked Joe, sorrowfully, who had listened to the telephone conversation. "He go with us."

"I don't think much of that," said Jud, wagging his head solemnly. "The last perfesser I traveled with was while I was prospectin' down in Arizona. He sold a cure for snake bites an' small-pox, an' one night he lit out with all our cash an' we never did catch him."

Half an hour later found the whole party in Mr. Donegan's study, where they were introduced to Professor Ditson.

"What might you be a perfesser of?" inquired Jud, staring at him with unconcealed hostility.

The other stared back at him for a moment before he replied.

"I have specialized," he said at last, "in reptiles, mammals, and birds, besides some research work in botany."

"Did n't leave out much, did you?" sneered Jud.

"Also," went on the professor, more quietly, "I learned early in life something about politeness. You would find it an interesting study," he went on, turning

away.

"Now, now," broke in Mr. Donegan, as Jud swallowed hard, "if you fellows are going treasure-hunting together, you must n't begin by scrappin'."

"I, sir," returned Professor Ditson, austerely, "have no intention of engaging in an altercation with any one. In the course of collecting-trips in the unsettled portions of all four continents, I have learned to live on good terms with vagabonds of all kinds, and I can do it again if necessary."

"Exactly!" broke in Mr. Donegan, hurriedly, before Jud could speak; "that certainly shows a friendly spirit, and I am sure Jud feels the same way."

"I do," returned the latter, puffingly, "just the same way. I got along once with

a perfesser who was no darn good and I guess I can again."

"Then," said Mr Donegan, briskly, "let's get down to business. Professor Ditson show us, please, the map and manuscript with which you located Lake Eldorado."

For reply, the gaunt scientist produced from a pocket a small copper cylinder, from which he drew a roll of yellowed parchment. Half of it was covered with crabbed writing in the imperishable sepia ink which the old scriveners used. The other half was apparently blank. The lumber-king screwed his face up wisely over the writing.

"Hm'm," he remarked at last. "It 's some foreign language. Let one of these young fellers who 're goin' to college try.” Will took one look at the paper.

"I pass," he said simply; while Joe shook his head without even looking.

"You 're a fine lot of scholars!" scoffed Jud, as he received the scroll. "Listen now

to Perfesser Adams of the University of Out-of-Doors."

Then, to the astonishment of everybody, in his high-pitched voice he began to translate the labored lines, reading haltingly, like a school-boy:

"I, Alvarado, companion of Pizzaro, about to die at dawn, to my dear wife Oriana. I do repent me of my many sins. I am he who slew the Inca Atahualpa and many of his people, and who played away the Sun before sunrise. Now it comes that I too must die, nor of the wealth that I have won have I aught save the Secret of Eldorado. On a night of the full moon, I myself saw the Golden Man throw into the lake the great Emerald of the Incas and a wealth of gold and gems. This treasure-lake lies not far from Orcos in which was thrown the Chain. I have drawn a map in the way thou didst show me long years ago. Take it to the king. There be treasure enough there for all Spain; and through his justice, thou and our children shall have a share. Forgive me, Oriana, and forget me not.

"ALVARADO."

There was a silence when he had finished. It was as if the shadow of the tragedy of that wasted life and vain repentance had drifted down the centuries and hung over the little company who had listened to the reading of the undelivered letter. The stillness was broken by Mr. Donegan.

LITTLE Brisken Bree hopped through the cook's vegetable garden, looking for a home. Brisken Brees prefer, as you doubtless know, to live behind the alarm-clock in a kitchen, but it must be a happy kitchen, and the voice of the lady who works in it must be low and pleasant. They are very particular They are very particular about that. He had heard strident shouting just as he was about to slip through a hole in the screen, so he had changed his mind and decided that he preferred the garden, damp though it might be, and cheerless in rainy weather. He could see the cook's broad blue back in the distance. She was shaking out dish-cloths, snappily, as if they were naughty children getting a much deserved punishment. The Brisken Bree watched her through his spectacles from behind the stringbeans, until, with a last jerk of the dishcloths, she picked up the clothes-basket with both red hands, and, opening the screen door with her foot, disappeared through it backward, letting it slam emphatically behind her.

Quickly, the little Brisken Bree ran to a row of feathery carrot-tops, pulling his little shovel from his belt as he went. There, embedded in the firm brown earth, he knew, were many golden carrots, pointing down, each one ridged, bumpy, crisp, and delicious! Pushing his spectacles back on his forehead, he began to dig.

He worked hard and unceasingly, scrambling in and out like a huge ant, until he had succeeded in excavating a long moist passageway which led to a round room under the biggest carrot, that hung, like a chandelier, exactly in the middle of the ceiling. He trampled the floor of the room to make it

hard; then he gathered long grasses from the field next to the garden and braided them skilfully into a beautiful green rug with fringe at each end. After he had brought down, with great difficulty, a smooth rosy mushroom for a table and put it in the middle of the green rug, he rested on his shovel and drew a long breath.

He

"Now," he said to himself, "this is n't a bad house at all. Better than that gloomy kitchen with the old cross cook in it." looked up at the carrot with satisfaction. There were his provisions, compact, nourishing, beautiful, and, best of all, quite convenient. "I shall stay here a long time," he sighed, luxuriously, as he stretched himself on the grassy rug. His hot-bubble cap, the kind worn by all Brisken Brees, soon filled the room with steam. He was beautifully warm, cosy, and comfortable, and just about to drop off to sleep, when a terrific thing occurred!

Some one from above ruthlessly pulled his carrot out of the ground and the little house became at once nothing more than a mass of loose earth and pebbles! The Brisken Bree was furious. He struggled, gasping, through the ground and looked about for his enemy.

It was a little boy, in a faded blue linen suit. He was pulling the carrots carefully and placing them in a large basket that he had deposited beside the cabbages.

"Hey, you!" shouted the Brisken Bree, in excitement.

The little boy did not hear. He kept on pulling the carrots.

The Brisken Bree became wild with rage. Was he to have his home destroyed and be insulted as well? He darted at the little boy's bare legs and butted them again and again with his bubble cap.

"Ouch!" shouted the little boy, dropping his carrot and hopping on one foot. "Oh, a bee stinged me!"

The Brisken Bree scrambled up the handle of the basket and shook his fist.

"What do you mean?" he sputtered. "Do you know what you have done? You great stupid! Look there, on the ground. Do you think I want to work all day for nothing?"

"I'm awfully sorry, sir," said the little boy, his lip trembling, "I did n't mean to do anything wrong. Aunt Lizzie told me to get the carrots for lunch."

"Aunt Lizzie!" shouted the Brisken Bree. "Aunt Lizzie indeed! And in the meantime, my house can be ruined and my beautiful grass green carpet and my table

Oh!" He suddenly sat down on the basket and hid his face in his hands in despair.

"Did I do that? Oh dear! I'm awfully sorry. Truly I am. Where was it?"

"It does n't matter in the least where it was, the important question being, where is it? And I'll tell you where it is easy enough-it 's gone!"

"Oh, dear!" said the little boy, and he

"Huh!" The Brisken Bree reflected. "It seems to me it's a pretty fine thing for old Liz."

"Oh, no!" said the little boy. "Aunt Liz says that she could get a much better place if it was n't for me. Now I must go in." He paused, reluctantly. "You are a fairy, are n't you?"

The Brisken Bree looked contemptuous. "A fairy!" he exclaimed; "one of those little do-nothings? I am glad to say I'm not. Do I look as if I should enjoy flitting about all day playing silly pranks?"

caught his breath

with a sob. "I 'm always doing

things wrong, always! Aunt Liz says so." "Who 's Aunt Liz-the old cook?"

"Yes." He began hastily to pull the carrots again, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of the other arm. "She 'll see me standing here talking, and then I 'll catch it!"

The Brisken Bree's anger melted immediately. It was such a pretty little boy! "What right has she to tell you where to stand, old toothless Liz?"

"Oh, don't, please! If she should hear you, I don't know what would happen."

"What right has she?"

"She brings me up. I have n't any father or mother, and Aunt Liz is my only relation. Mr. and Mrs. Williamson don't mind letting me stay here if I keep in the back, and I help with the pots and pans."

"No, you don't," said the little boy, slowly. "I wish I was a fairy. I wish I was a rabbit or a mouse or even a rat. I wish I was anything in the world except a boy." "Better wish that you were a Brisken Bree while you are about it. We lead the best lives. And we are much respected by the fairies, you may be sure." The little boy looked at him with round eyes. "A Brisken Bree! What is that?" he asked.

"Well," began the Brisken Bree, sitting cross-legged on the basket, quite cheerful again, "I am one. We are quite rare, it is true, among the fairies. There are lots of human Brisken Brees,-oh, lots of themand very few fairy humans, do you see? They are as rare as Brisken Brees with us."