rches
the table an' a dull day don't do nothin' to the table, why couldn't
some kind o' record be made o' the amount o' sunshine? Mistah Anton, he
likes most everythin' like that, an' Ah'm goin' to talk to him about
it."

"But you never did, Dan'l," put in Anton, not giving much belief to the
darky's story.

"Ah 'sperimented all by myself first," Dan'l answered. "Ah took a piece
of cardboard, the shiny kind, an' I cut out a piece like the shape of
the new moon an' laid it on Mammy's table. Sho's yo' born, Mist' Anton,
that spot of light from the crystal jes' started to scorch that
cardboard. When the sun was bright it burned it a real dark brown, when
thar was a cloud over the sun, it didn't burn it at all. When the sun
had a little cloud it jes' burned that cardboard a light brown. Ah'll
show yo'."

He pulled from inside his shirt a piece of cardboard. It was marked with
the hours of the day and, as he had said, in places it had been burned
dark brown and in others a light brown. At one spot, there was about an
inch where the cardboard was perfectly white, and opposite this, Dan'l
had got his son to write in sprawling letters, "Cloud here."

The cardboard passed quickly from hand to hand.

"But this is great!" cried Fred. "I wonder if Mammy wouldn't keep a
regular record for us!"

With a pompous air, Dan'l stretched out his hand and made a clean sweep
around him. Then he reached down for the package at his feet and
commenced unwrapping from around it the newspapers in which it was
hidden. As, with a flourish, he pulled away the last piece of paper,
there was a gasp of admiration from all the boys.

There, on the ground before them, was the huge globe of crystal, clear,
shining and flawless.

"How did you get it, Dan'l?" cried the boys.

"Ah bought it," the darky replied. "Leastways, a lot of us got together
an' bought it fo' a present to the League. Deacon Brown he arranged it
all, when Mistah Levin said to us that the crystal would really work
right."

"Mr. Levin!" cried Anton. "Then you've known all about this, and never
told us!"

"It was Dan'l's secret," the Forecaster answered. "Do you suppose I'd
rob him of the fun of telling you? He's right. Dan'l's worked out, all
by himself, the principle of the Campbell-Stokes sunshine recorder, and
I think there's a lot of credit coming to him."

Anton leaned down and tried to pick up the globe, but it was too heavy
for him. Monroe raised it for examination.