



Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]


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VOL. I.--NO. 3. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, November 18, 1879. Copyright, 1879, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: THE TOURNAMENT.--DRAWN BY JAMES E. KELLY.]

THE TOURNAMENT.


Great rivalry arose once between James and Henry, two school-mates and
warm friends, and all on account of a pretty girl who went to the same
school. Each one wanted to walk with her, and carry her books and lunch
basket; and as Mary was a bit of a coquette, and showed no preference
for either of her admirers, each tried to be the first to meet her in
the shady winding lane that led from her house to the school. At last
they determined to decide the matter in the old knightly manner, by a
tournament. Two stout boys consented to act as chargers, and the day for
the meeting was appointed.

It was Saturday afternoon, a half-holiday, when the rivals met in the
back yard of Henry's house, armed with old brooms for lances, and with
shields made out of barrel heads. The chargers backed up against the
fence, the champions mounted and faced each other from opposite sides of
the yard. The herald with an old tin horn gave the signal for the onset.
There was a wild rush across the yard, and a terrific shock as the
champions met. James's lance struck Henry right under the chin, and
overthrew him in spite of his gallant efforts to keep his seat.

The herald at once proclaimed victory for James; and Henry, before he
was allowed to rise from the ground, was compelled to renounce all
intention of walking to school with Mary in the future.




[Begun in No. 1 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, Nov. 4.]

THE BRAVE SWISS BOY.

_II.--A PERILOUS ADVENTURE.--(Continued.)_

[Illustration: "WALTER AIMED TWO OR THREE BLOWS AT THE CREATURE'S
BREAST."]


In this dreadful crisis, Walter pressed as hard as he could against the
rocky crag, having but one hand at liberty to defend himself against the
furious attack of the bird. It was quite impossible for him to get at
his axe, and the force with which he was assaulted caused him nearly to
let go his hold. He tried to seize the vulture's throat and strangle it;
but the bird was too active, and made all such attempts perfectly
useless. He could scarcely hope to continue such a dangerous struggle
much longer. He was becoming faint from terror, and his left hand was
fast growing benumbed with grasping the rock. He had almost resigned
himself to his fate, and expected the next moment to be dashed to pieces
on the field of ice beneath. Suddenly, however, he recollected his
pocket-knife, and a new ray of hope dawned. Giving up the attempt to
clutch at the furious bird, he drew the knife out of his pocket, and
opened it with his teeth, and aiming two or three blows at the
creature's breast, he found at last that he had been successful in
reaching some mortal part. The fluttering of the wings ceased, and the
dying bird stained the virgin snow with its blood on the ice-field
below. Walter was saved; there was no other enemy now to fear; his life
was no longer in danger; but his energies were taxed to the utmost, and
it was well for him that the terrible contest had lasted no longer.

Pale, trembling in every limb, and spattered with the vulture's blood as
well as that which trickled from the many wounds he had received, the
valiant young cragsman sank helplessly to the ground, where he lay for
some minutes, paralyzed with the terrible exertion he had gone through.
At length, however, he so far recovered himself as to be able to
continue his fatiguing and dangerous journey, and soon succeeded in
reaching the spot where he had left his jacket, shoes, and alpenstock.
Having gained a place of safety, he poured forth his thanks to God for
delivering him from such great danger, and began to bind up his wounds,
which for the first time were now paining him. When this was
accomplished in a rough and ready sort of way, he had a peep at the
trophies in his bag, whose capture had been attended with such
adventurous danger, and with the aid of his alpenstock succeeded in
getting the dead body of the old bird, which he found had been struck
right to the heart. But his knife he could not recover, so concluded
that he must have dropped it after the deadly encounter.

"That doesn't matter much," said he to himself, as he looked at the size
of the bird. "It is a good exchange; and if I give the stranger the old
bird with the young ones, I dare say he will give me another knife. What
a splendid creature! Fully four feet long, and the wings at least three
yards across. How father will open his eyes when he sees the dead
Laemmergeier--and the Scotch gentleman too!"

Tying the legs of the bird together with cord which he had fortunately
brought, he slung it across his shoulder to balance the weight of the
bag, and then started on his journey across the glacier, the foot of
which he soon reached, and was then within hailing distance of the hotel
where the stranger was residing.

It was a good thing that he had not been kept longer away, for the sun
was beginning to set by the time he reached the valley, and only the
highest peaks were lit up by its departing glory. Tired and hungry,
Walter was thankful to find himself once more at the door of the inn,
where there was the same crowd of travellers, guides, horses, and mules
he had seen in the morning. His appearance had attracted general
attention as he descended the last hill leading to the hotel.

"Why, I declare it's Watty Hirzel!" exclaimed one of the guides. "He was
here this morning, and I declare he's got a young eagle hanging across
his shoulder."

"Say an old vulture, Mohrle, and you'll be nearer the mark," replied the
lad in a cheerful tone and with sparkling eyes; for he felt so proud of
the triumph he had achieved that all fatigue seemed to be forgotten. "An
old vulture, Mohrle, and a splendid fellow into the bargain! I've got
the young ones in my bag here."

"You're a pretty fellow!" said another guide, with a sneer. "I suppose
you mean to tell us that you've killed the old bird and carried off the
young ones?"

"Yes, that is just what I mean to tell you," replied the boy, smiling,
and paying no attention to the sneer of the other. "I've done it all
alone. I took the youngsters out of the nest, and had a regular fight
with the old ones afterward. I brought one of them home; but the other
you will find somewhere in the Urbacht Valley, if you like to go and
look for it."

"I think the lad speaks the truth," said Mohrle, gazing at Walter with
astonishment and respect.--"You've had a long journey, my boy, and
you're covered with blood. Did the old vulture hurt you?"

"Yes, the brute stuck his claws into me, and if I hadn't had a sharp
knife in my pocket, it would have been all over with me. But let me
through, for I want to take the young birds up stairs to a gentleman
here."

Mohrle and the other guides who had surrounded the courageous boy would
gladly have detained him longer to hear all the particulars of his
daring adventure; but he pressed through the crowd, promising to tell
them all about it afterward, and made his way up to the room occupied by
Mr. Seymour, who received him with as much astonishment as the guides
had done.

"There, Sir," exclaimed Walter, as he took the young vultures out of his
bag and placed them on the floor--"there are the birds you wanted; and
here is one of the old ones, which I brought with me from the Engelhorn.
But you must let them have something to eat--the live ones, I mean; for
they've had nothing for nearly a whole day, and are squealing for
hunger."

Mr. Seymour stood for a moment speechless. He was filled with delight at
the sight of the young birds he had so long wished for, but was at the
same time dumfounded at the courage and honor of the young mountaineer.

"Is it possible?" he exclaimed at last. "Have you really ventured to
risk your life, although I told you that I didn't want the birds?"

"Well, Sir, I know you said so; but I saw by your face that you would
like to have them all the same; and so, as you had been so kind to me, I
didn't mind running a little risk to please you, although it was hard
work. So there they are; but you mustn't forget to feed them, or they
will be starved to death before morning."

"Oh, we will take good care that they don't die of hunger," replied Mr.
Seymour, ringing the bell. "I think, as you take such a warm interest in
the welfare of the birds, you must feel rather hungry yourself. So sit
down and have something to eat, and then you can tell me all about your