o his paper.

"Russians repulsed with great loss. Tartars entered Kolyvan to-day."
These words ended the dispatch.

"My turn now," cried Alcide Jolivet, anxious to send off his dispatch,
addressed to his cousin.

But that was not Blount's idea, who did not intend to give up the
wicket, but have it in his power to send off the news just as the events
occurred. He would therefore not make way for his companion.

"But you have finished!" exclaimed Jolivet.

"I have not finished," returned Harry Blount quietly.

And he proceeded to write some sentences, which he handed in to the
clerk, who read out in his calm voice: "John Gilpin was a citizen of
credit and renown; a train-band captain eke was he of famous London
town."

Harry Blount was telegraphing some verses learned in his childhood, in
order to employ the time, and not give up his place to his rival. It
would perhaps cost his paper some thousands of roubles, but it would be
the first informed. France could wait.

Jolivet's fury may be imagined, though under any other circumstances
he would have thought it fair warfare. He even endeavored to force the
clerk to take his dispatch in preference to that of his rival.

"It is that gentleman's right," answered the clerk coolly, pointing
to Blount, and smiling in the most amiable manner. And he continued
faithfully to transmit to the Daily Telegraph the well-known verses of
Cowper.

Whilst he was working Blount walked to the window and, his field glass
to his eyes, watched all that was going on in the neighborhood of
Kolyvan, so as to complete his information. In a few minutes he resumed
his place at the wicket, and added to his telegram: "Two churches are
in flames. The fire appears to gain on the right. 'John Gilpin's spouse
said to her dear, Though wedded we have been these twice ten tedious
years, yet we no holiday have seen.'"

Alcide Jolivet would have liked to strangle the honorable correspondent
of the Daily Telegraph.

He again interrupted the clerk, who, quite unmoved, merely replied: "It
is his right, sir, it is his right--at ten copecks a word."

And he telegraphed the following news, just brought him by Blount:
"Russian fugitives are escaping from the town. 'Away went Gilpin--who
but he? His fame soon spread around: He carries weight! he rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound!'" And Blount turned round with a quizzical
look at his rival.

Alcide Jolivet fumed.

In the meanwhile Harry Blount ha