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having killed the boy-she had nothing against the boy, but still she must kill him-she must kill him-she would live in it free as air, all by herself.

Mary Kaufman stood in the doorway, gazing into the eyes of the mistress of the house. It was haying season. Not a man was on the place.

"I have come to live here," said Mary Kaufman.

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'But I don't know who you are!" gasped the other.

No," said Mary, "but I have come here to live. Not with this child. I shall not keep him. I shall live here alone. Go away at once."

"But," cried the mistress, "this is my house!"

66 If you don't go away this minute-now "-Mary was talking calmly enough, but the pupils of her eyes were very broad and there was warning in her face-"if you don't run, quick, I shall have to kill you."

The terrified woman waited for no proof. She ran as fast as the heat and the fright and her lack of strength would let her, and she carried the news to the railway station at Garber's Ferry, her nearest refuge.

In the interval Mary Kaufman was looking over her new home. Pleased with all that she saw, she stopped to examine furniture, ornaments, curtains, carpets, even the racks of hunting guns, property of two sportsman members of the family, that hung in the hall. Mary had scarcely even seen a gun before-had almost certainly never held one in her hand. It amused her to pretend to aim them and to play with the locks, and she looked, too, with vague interest at several revolvers and at the boxes of cartridges conveniently at hand. She was thus wholly absorbed when the boy began to whimper at her knees. Mamma, I'm so hungry!" wailed the poor little chap. It was already noon, and neither of the pair had broken fast that day. Mary stared at the child strangely. "Well, I may as well feed you," she concluded. "There's sure to be plenty in the house." So she laid down the rifle she was fondling and moved off toward the kitchen, the famished child trotting behind her, revivified by hope.

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There was, indeed, food enough in the house-ample food for many mouths, some of it ready prepared. Mary stood looking at rows of good things-bread, cake, pies, cold meat-and at bins and crocks and jars and bags of stores, while the boy gazed too, with wonder and delight. And while she so stood, motionless, a new impression seized her with a rush.

"Some one is coming to take this house away from me. I can't stop to feed you now-I can't stop for anything. And I'll have to leave you alive a little longer. Come! come!" Snatching the child by the shoulder, she dragged him out of the room, up the stairs, and flung him, weakly wailing, into a corner of the upper hall.

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Stay quiet! There's a good boy! Don't move! Don't make a sound!" she whispered, vehemently. "I'll get you some pie soon. And then I'll kill you. But not now-not just yet. You must wait. First I must lock all the doors. I must get the all the guns, every one."

guns

Hurrying away down the stairs, she labored back, breathless, as fast as her feet would carry her, two heavy rifles in her arms. She bore them into a front chamber and flung them on the bed. Again and again she made the trip, precipitate, as though she knew she had not à moment to lose, until every weapon and all the ammunition had been transferred to her chosen spot. Together they made a small arsenal, for, as it chanced, the men of this household loved firearms, each rivaling the other in the completeness of his stock.

"Now," said Mary, "let them come!"

She stationed herself at a front window, like a minute-man on guard. Scarcely had she done so when the Freeport police, four strong, bore down on the house. They were mopping their brows and panting; they were more than a little irritated at the trifling nature of the pretext that brought them so far afield under conditions so extreme.

"Wait here in the road," said the chief. "I'll go and bring her out. No need of everybody going in. It might excite her." He started up the walk.

"Who are you?" It was a sharp, thin, woman's voice calling from an upper window.

"Freeport police."

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Well, you ain't wanted here. Go right back to Freeport."

No, no," cried the chief, as if remonstrating with a child. "You can't talk like that to a policeman, you know. I'm here to get you. You must come right along now with me." Again he started up the walk, but stopped short as a bullet 'sang over his head.

"For God's sake, look out!" cried the voices behind him, and in the same instant he caught sight of a small white face in the upper window, peering down at him along the barrel of a rifle. from whose muzzle rose a coil of smoke. Wise man that he was, he turned and ran for cover like a deer. When he peered out again, not one of his confrères remained in sight. "S'st!" came presently from behind a tree.

“S'st!” “S'st!" echoed other shelters.

"Let's hike back and get word to the burgess," whispered the tree. This looks serious. We don't want to do anything rash." So they stole away.

Meantime the countryside was gathering. The railway police appeared, neighboring farmers, village folk. The midday sun blazed high, and they sought out spots of shaded concealment whence to spy upon the infested house, wherein to plot. Now and again some bolder spirit ventured a sortie, instantly to draw a shot. The aim was erratic, uncalculable, and none the pleas anter for that. There was no safety zone.

There's those girls camping over yonder on the Carnegie Institute Tech. grounds! They're easy within range of that big rifle!" exclaimed a voice from an unseen source.

"Yes, and there's a hundred of 'em, if there's one. Just as like as not to stop a bullet, any of 'em. They probably think all this racket's just skylarkin'. They won't be watchin' out." "Somebody ought to tell 'em."

"Crack! Crack!" A small green branch with a splintered stem sailed down among the speakers.

A pause. Then a dubious voice: "We-ell, I don't know how you feel, but I ain't so crazy about movin' out from behind this here rock just at present. I reckon them girls 'll come in out of the rain-take care of themselves-don't you?"

"Yes, yes," hastily agreed the others. "Course they will," and made speed to quit the topic.

"Crack!" "Crack!" "Crack!" from the house.

The Freeport police, returning, had essayed another attack under cover of a ruse carefully planned, only to be driven to their heels. The sole result of their venture had been to endanger not only their own lives but those of anybody and everybody within range of the windows.

"Almost seems like they'd have to shoot her," ventured

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"There's plenty of food in that house, and ammunition enough for an army."

"But she's got to sleep some time."

"Yes, but they do say crazy people have double strength. And what mischief won't she pull off before she sleeps! Burning that good old house down 'll be the least of it."

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Oh, say, look there! Who are them fellers comin' up the road?"

Two figures clad in steel-gray uniform had just jumped out of a car a little below the house and were now approaching rapidly. Something about them, even at this first glance, conveyed the certainty that with their advent the whole situation instantly changed that nothing that had gone before counted -that business would now begin. The swing of their clean muscled bodies sent a message ahead. The stride and snap their close-putteed legs wrote "Finis" to nonsense and mess. "State troopers, by Gad! That's the talk! Now we'll see something!"

of

"What makes them chaps look so-so kinder powerful like?" queried one puzzled voice from behind a stump. They do that, don't they?" assented another. "Dummed if I don't think it might be the collars." "Collars nothing! It's fact."

Oh,

yes,

I know. But look here; do

you

could

reckon you stand such a collar, stiffened right up around your throat, with

hooks and metal and all, such weather as this? And yet you never saw one o' them State men any other way, day nor night, not if 'twas hot as Tophet. You couldn't hire 'em! Looks like they hadn't no human weaknesses."

"I've got a cousin on probation with the force now," a fourth man put in." He said that collar stood for the difference between him and a slouch. Slouch meant me. I tried to lick him for it, but he'd had two months of their training already. Took me a week to get over it." The voice laughed ruefully, yet with pride of superiority. No one else in the borough owned such a cousin to be licked by.

"Come along, boys, anyway. Let's work down to meet 'em and see what they're goin' to do."

The voice of the Burgess of Freeport, appealing for help in the emergency reported by his police, had reached D Troop's telephone desk, twenty-four miles away, at twenty minutes after two o'clock. D Troop barracks is two miles from the Butler railway station. A train for Freeport left Butler at twenty-five minutes after two.

Sergeant Charles T. Smith and Private Hess caught the 2:25. And if the troop car touched but seldom and lightly on the highroad intervening, no one and nothing was the worse for its flight.

Now, on the ground, they stood for a moment appraising the situation.

"Before we begin "-it was the sergeant who spoke, splendid specimen of a fine old Regular Army type, steady, solid, and cool "I want every civilian out of here. It's a wonder some one hasn't been killed already. Clear out, please—you railway police and all-'way out of harm's way. I don't want one of you to get hurt."

Every one obeyed alacritously with the exception of one manDoane, of the local police.

"I'd like to stop and see what you're going to do," said Doane.

"All right, then, but keep covered," cautioned the sergeant. "But can't I do anything to help?"

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'Well," the sergeant reflected, "maybe when we get inside you might call to her and get her attention at the window. Use judgment."

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Meantime, as if herself absorbed in wonder at the new move, Mary Kaufman had ceased firing.

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Hess, you slide around to the back door while I tackle the front," said the sergeant, and started straight up the path to the house.

Doane, looking on, felt his heart stop beating. With every step he expected to see a rose of flame at the window, and the springy figure stagger and fall. But the sergeant reached the door in safety. The window remained blank.

"She has given it up, thank goodness!" thought Doane. Then he saw that the front door must be locked. The sergeant was setting his shoulder against it. It gave, burst in. And in that same instant a shot rang out in the interior of the house. The report merged and echoed on in a curious metallic" z'zing!" By some strange freak of her disordered senses, Mary had become aware of Trooper Hess's silent and invisible approach. Obsessed by the new consciousness, she had ignored the movement at the front of the house, and, while reloading her guns, had concentrated her watch in the other direction. Hovering at the head of the stairs, she had awaited her moment, her eyes on the door at the back of the hall below. This also she had locked and barred. She saw the handle turn. Then in a second more she saw the whole fabric begin to give, to yield. With a final crack the door swung in.

Mary fired. The range was so short she could hardly missyet miss she did, and the bullet, striking down upon the bell of the telephone, added its jarring scream to the crash of the gun. Both officers were now making for the stairs. Mary, flying before them back into her bedroom arsenal, slammed and locked the door.

The two men, with a glance at each other, stood aside, to right and to left, against the wall.

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Crash!" came a bullet, tearing through the panel.
Six-shooter, that one!" said Hess.

The sergeant nodded.

"Crash" Again the panel splintered.
"Let her empty it."

"Crash!" "Crash!"

"Crash!" With the fifth report the wood flew again. "On the next I go in. You wait, Hess," the sergeant commanded.

"Crash!" the lead struck through.

With a mighty shove the sergeant drove in. Mary stood by the far window, her revolver raised as if to fire. As the sergeant jumped for her she pulled the trigger and a bullet grazed his cheek. He seized her in his arms, his grip closing over her revolver hand. She struggled, vainly, to turn the point upon him, and again her weapon flashed. Doane, down below, had bettered the sergeant's instructions by twice firing his own revolver close under the window instead of attempting to divert Mary's attention by speech. The officers had counted these two reports in reckoning with the six chambers of Mary's weapon.

But Sergeant Smith now held the frail fury safe in his arms, while the revolver, gently twisted out of her clutch, lay harmless and empty on the floor where he had tossed it.

"Hess," he said," you take her now, while I go hunt for the boy." "I'm awfully afraid she's killed him."

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My notion, too. I pretty near hate to look."

As the sergeant left the room Mary seemed to relax all over, as though her fighting spirit was fled. Private Hess lightened his hold to give her greater comfort. In an instant, with the quickness of an eel, she had writhed out of his hands and darted across the room. With a lightning movement she turned and faced him, another loaded revolver in her hand. But this time the soldier was her master in dexterity. He disarmed her with careful ease.

Meantime Sergeant Smith was searching the house for the boy. Up and down, in closets and cupboards and boxes, everywhere he sought him, and sought in vain.

"Wonder if he managed to slip away before she locked the doors before the siege began," he was saying to himself as he mounted the attic stairs.

In the attic was a bedchamber. Its bed was covered with a large counterpane, broad enough to sweep the floor at the sides. Sergeant Smith, standing in the doorway, glanced once around the bare little place. Then, his eyes on the bed, he stopped short and listened, while he held his breath. Another moment and he was on his hands and knees, lifting the edge of the counterpane to look beneath.

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Come along out now," he was saying, very quietly. all right, son."

"It's

A pause. Silence. No movement. Then a shuffle and squirming. A pair of copper-toed shoes appeared, much scuffed and rusty, two coarse-stockinged legs, a patched and diminutive trousers seat, a middy blouse, a tow-head buried in a pair of arms. No movement more. The head did not turn or lift. The locked arms were fixed and rigid, a last defense. The whole body was stiff.

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Get up," said the sergeant, very low.

With a gasp the boy obeyed, springing back as he did so, as if to avoid he knew not what. It was a good little face, intelligent, sweet, but deathly white, and ghastly with exhaustion and mortal fear. The gaze was wide and staring, the blue lips stretched back over the teeth.

Sergeant Smith said nothing at all, still kneeling motionless, holding the boy with his steady, kindly eyes. It was as though the eyes were suns melting their way where no words could reach, into the understanding heart. The child's whole life came into his own wide eyes and peered out, tensely questioning there. Then with a little quivering wail he tottered forward and flung his arms tight around the sergeant's neck, burying his face against that stiff high collar that does not betoken a slouch.

"I didn't know it was you! Oh, I didn't know it was you!" he cried, and broke into long, dry sobs.

The sergeant picked him up in his arms by and by and car ried him downstairs. As Mary Kaufman saw them so, one shaft of light illumined her darkness.

"Now may God have mercy on my soul!" said she.

Next week will be published the third of this series of stories. Its title is "Get Your Man"

WHAT IS BEING DONE FOR THE PHYSICAL TRAINING OF THE

MEN IN SERVICE AND WHY

BY WALTER CAMP

GOVERNMENT DIRECTOR OF ATHLETICS FOR THE NAVAL TRAINING CAMPS

THE COMMISSION ON TRAINING CAMP ACTIVITIES

A STATEMENT MADE BY THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY FOR THE OUTLOOK Victory depends upon the control of muscles. Men must be able to make thought instant action, when the fate of a flect depends upon the flying signal for full speed ahead or astern, the turning of a turret, or the firing of a gun. The lives of thousands hang upon the movement of a hand. Mechanical perfection is demanded in the machinery that drives the vessel, turns the turret, and fires the guns. More important is the man. More than a machine, his body is yet the most marvelous of machinery. Systematic exercise, athletics, is to perfect it and make him master of the whole.

The athletic programme of the Navy Department Commission on Training Camp Activities under Walter Camp is vital. Its importance to the Navy cannot be too strongly stressed. (Signed) JOSEPHUS DANIELS.

T is only through ideals that progress

more than

to the average man. And at this point it

When this war began, Secretary Baker and Secretary may be well to show the public why it was advisalade for the

camps and naval stations could set an example that would mark our war as epochal in the way of caring for the thousands of young men drawn from our homes. They believed that all the safeguards possible should surround these youth. It was easy to enact laws, it was simple to legislate against evil. But laws and legislation had been tried before. All the machinery of that nature had been put in operation in other countries and at times in our own without producing satisfactory results. It seemed, therefore, that the problem must be attacked from another angle, and Secretary Baker therefore established the War Commission on Training Camp Activities, with Raymond B. Fosdick as Chairman and Dr. Raycroft in charge of athletics, followed soon after by Secretary Daniels in the establishment of a similar Commission on Naval Training Camp Activities. This is indeed a ponderous title, but it means, in short, as Secretary Daniels has described it, "home conditions." It means that every boy is to be given just as much chance for relaxation as he might have enjoyed under the special conditions of his own home life. At home, whether in school or college or business, he had his evenings and his Saturday afternoons and Sundays for his amusements. Every man gradually lays out a sort of schedule of these things, and during the day and the week looks forward toward those amusements with anticipation. On Friday night or Saturday morning his thoughts can hardly help straying a bit to the pleasure he expects to have in those days of rest. Suddenly all these thousands of young men were to be thrown out of this normal environment, taken perhaps thousands of miles from their homes, and placed in Army cantonments or naval stations. Let the average man stop for a moment and think how he would feel if he were to be suddenly deprived of the pleasures of his evenings and his Saturday afternoons and holidays! Suppose he had nothing to which he might look forward but just the daily grind! ·

These two Commissions on Training Camp Activities, under Mr. Fosdick as Chairman, were called upon to face this problem and determine how it might be solved. When the young man was taken out of his home and placed in a camp, was it possible to transfer his environment with him? The solution looked extremely difficult; but the first step was to consider what the conditions were, and then meet them. What to-day are the things that appeal most to youth? First, his sports, without question; then amusements, like the movies or theaters or singing. The Commissions must therefore plan to give him these or else confess themselves beaten at the start, and allow the camps to go forward in the old desultory way of other camps of the past. Hit-or-miss athletics the American boy has outgrown. He has tasted the satisfaction of really organized athletics, and his baseball, football, and basket-ball are all team games that he admires. And in the winter there is hockey to be added. Of the more individual sports track games and boxing probably appeal

own method and a new machinery for the purpose of reproducing this home environment. There were already in the Army and Navy two direct athletic agencies, but each one of these hai other matters to look after. These two were the regular athletic officer of the division or station and the Y. M. C. A. leader. They had been in charge of such matters, and both had been extremely helpful. The chaplains had also contributed great aid along these lines. But in order to handle any such increase in numbers as was now facing the Government, new and more specially adapted machinery was imperative if speedy results were to be accomplished. The regular duties caused by such an increased number would tax the officers and chaplains to the limit, while Y. M. C. A. workers also would find their hands full.

Hence the Commission was formed and its work placed directly under Government control. It was possible to secure certain appropriations immediately, and in addition to these appropriations hundreds of private individuals, knowing the imperative need of the work and the necessity of quick action, backed it liberally with funds. The result was that the Com mission was not only able to organize but to reach almost from the start a great majority of the camps and stations, giving them the immediate benefit of trained organizers as well as a considerable amount of equipment. Athletic directors, song leaders, boxers, and other instructors have been stationed and real organization effected. So much so that the late summer and the fall saw all kinds of organized athletics and amusements established, and by the time the football season was on there were more teams in the country than ever before, and the boys in the service had some of the best of them, too! There was excellent co-operation between the Y. M. C. A., the Knights of Columbus, the chaplains and athletic officers, and the regularly appointed representatives of the Commission, for all were working toward a common end. The War Camp Recreation Community of the Playground and Recreation Society also did splendid work about the did other organizations of similar character. The Commission itself undertook also the work of seeing that the laws relative to the surroundings of these camps and stations were observed and enforced.

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That the work has been one of stupendous magnitude only those can appreciate who have followed it or who have had some previous experience along kindred lines. But it has been accomplished. There is much further devclopment and a cotinuing need for it, but the first steps have been made, the organization perfected, the sports given, and the home envirol ment duplicated, and consequently the horrible experiences former mobilization of civilians in a country not ready for war have not been repeated. Our boys have had a chance at clean and wholesome sport of the kind to which they had been accus tomed; they have a chance to look forward to their off hours

of

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and days off just as they did at home, and the final result of this is that they are "running straighter" than any such body of young men thrown into cantonments and naval stations suddenly have ever run before, and Secretary Baker and Secretary Daniels and Chairman Fosdick deserve the blessings of thousands of mothers and fathers for the work.

As an example of what is being done in all these stations we will take one, namely, the First Naval District in Boston. Here Director Brown has just been making an innovation in organizing tug-o'-war teams. This sport has sprung into popularity at the Boston Station, and a tug-o'-war event will be featured at many of the track meets and at boxing and wrestling exhibitions which will be given during the remainder of the winter.

Mr. Brown has a squad of forty men on his track team. The showing made by the team from this station at the Boston A. A. games February 2 has given track athletics an encouraging outlook.

The boxing and wrestling teams which have been developed at the Boston Station are regarded as the finest collections of athletes in these sports developed in the Navy this season. A dual meet in boxing and wrestling has been arranged between the Boston Station and the Camp Devens teams in the large Recreation Hall at Camp Devens..

At Commonwealth Pier, Boston, basket-ball is played by hundreds of men, and keen interest is shown in boxing, wrestling, swimming, and track athletics.

Athletics are being organized at the Machias Naval Station Branch of the Boston Station. Boxing and track athletics have comprised the first work done. Here is a further report:

"Probably the two strongest basket-ball teams in naval stations in New England will meet in the game which has just been arranged between the Boston and the Pelham Bay fives. "Warm interest is displayed in the Boston Station in the short-hand setting-up exercises which have just been introduced in the various camps of this Station. At the Bumkin Island camp every man in the station, one thousand in all, has taken up the exercise, which is regarded as a highly agreeable change from the former calisthenics. In the Boston Navy-Yard, the Harvard Radio School, the Portland Naval Station, the Machias Naval Station, and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology

Naval Aviation Station large classes in the setting-up exercises have been organized. Especially keen interest is displayed at the Technology Station, where the men are so busy that they have had no time for athletics or recreational sport, but have welcomed the short-hand set-ups, which require only about fifteen minutes' time daily, and which leave the men exhilarated physically."

One of the most vital problems which the world war has pushed forward for solution is the general physical fitness of the American people.

The revelations made of their physical unfitness for military or for any exacting service have been astounding. In some draft districts it has been found necessary to summon two thousand men in order to get two hundred who are fit to begin service.

To remedy this a campaign to improve the National physical condition, to make it fitter for either campaigns or competition of war or peace, is one of the most important of the tasks which, at the present moment, confront the stay-at-homes to perform. not only on behalf of those who have gone to war, but on behalf of the future generations of both classes the descendants of the present generation of Americans.

We are doing everything possible to see that the men in the service are kept physically and morally fit, that such diversion, such athletics, such exercises as tend to this result are fostered in every possible way. And regarding this we have no stronger statement than the one which the Chairman of the Commission, Mr. Fosdick, has just sent me :

"We have ample evidence that athletic games are developing self-control, agility, mental alertness, and initiative, all of which are bases upon which to build military training. The training camps and stations of the country are now giving to men whose boyhood ended all too soon an opportunity to play as they never played before. We believe that the harder men play the harder they will fight."

The writer has had opportunities to meet officers of other countries from time to time, and they have expressed themselves as very much impressed with the result of this work that is being done by the Commission. It would be impossible to go into technical detail, but the mass of reports coming in daily from these stations show that the departments have succeeded

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T

THE MIRACLE OF THE APACHE TRAIL

HIRTY-ODD years ago a trip on the Apache Trail would have cost you your life. It was the same country then the same glorious, untamed, jagged, palette-hued, live man's country that it is to-day, and just as thoroughly worth seeing; but at that particular time there was an Indian named Geronimo inhabiting those parts who was not exactly hospitable to visitors. Geronimo was an Apache in every sense of the word. With only twenty warriors under him, and with fourteen squaws hampering them, he once held at bay an American force of two thousand soldiers and a Mexican army of several thousand more; he murdered, burned, scalped, and pillaged, completely terroriz ing that entire section of Arizona and Mexico, all without losing a single man until the final battle, in which his band was ultimately exterminated. There is a certain cave near the modern Apache Trail where one can still see the bleached bones of those who made that last fierce stand.

Such was the Apache country of Arizona but three brief decades ago-a country untouched by the white man simply because it was so wild that it could not be touched until the savages who owned it, who knew its ins and outs, its ups and downs, and who could therefore success

BY GERALD MYGATT

fully bar entrance to it, had one by one been wiped from the face of the earth.

During the ensuing twenty years, however, the Apache trail became passable at least, for the whites swept into the country and the Indians were either removed or educated, as they were unfriendly or friendly. Nevertheless the land was still inaccessible to any save those who had mules and clear heads, and these were mostly explorers, prospectors, and soldiers of fortune. In other words, it could not be called a by-trip for casual tourists. Scarcely!

Then suddenly came a change, and with it the miracle. The United States Government decided that the Arizona desert lands could be made to bloom and produce crops, and the Roosevelt Dam was projected-a dam to impound the largest artificial lake in the world for the purpose of irrigating and reclaiming some three hundred and sixty square miles of the Salt River Valley. The site was selected in just about the wildest, most ungetatable place in all Apache land. And that selection marked the birth of the Apache Trail as it exists today, the trail over which thousands of travelers are being carried each year in swift, comfortable, high-powered automobiles.

For to make the building of that giant dam possible the Government had to con

struct a paved, graded, railway-like automobile road connecting the location with the town of Globe to the east and Phoenix to the west-a motor road one hundred and twenty miles long, swinging easily across canyons and along the sides of well-nigh bottomless precipices, topping mountains and hugging the edges of black torrentsall in all one of the greatest engineering feats of modern times. The road was accordingly built. Motor trucks swarmed over it. The dam was finally finished.

That road to-day, graded, smoothed, as nearly perfect as a mountain road can be, has taken the name of the ancient Indian moccasin trail whose course, oddly enough, it almost exactly follows. That is the fundamental miracle of the Apache Trail, a miracle based upon modern engineering science, a miracle which now permits the traveler to sce-and to feel, as it were-the old Apache land, to see the most beautiful, most inspiring country, in the opinion those who ought to know, within the territorial limits of the United States.

Globe, the eastern terminus of the trail, is a copper town of no small interest in itself, and as your motor purrs easily up the grade of the first seventeen-mile stretch to the divide of the gaunt mountain range ahead of you, you leave behind the titan

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