FRANCIS LYNDE | ustrations by IRWIN MYERS | * SEeIIe000000sssseld Copyright by Chas. Scribner's Sons CHAPTER XVII. oe] pe The Arrow to the Mark. Smith, concentrating abstractedly, as his habit was, upon the work in hand, was still deep in the voucher-auditing when the office door was opened and a small shocked volce sald: “Oh, wooh! how you startled me! I saw the light, and ¥ supposed, of course, it was colonel-daddy. Where Is he?” Smith pushed the papers aside and fooked up scowling. “He was here a minute ago, Stillings. Said he’d be back. Tome to take him home?” She nodded and came to sit <hair at the desk-end, saying: “Don’t let me interrupt you, please. I'll be quiet.” “I don’t mean to let anything inter- Tupt me until I have finished what I have undertaken to do; I'm past all that, now.” “I have heard about what you did {ast night.” “About the newspaper fracas? You don't approve of anything like that, of course, Neither did I, once. But there Is no middle way. You know what the animal tamers tell us about the beasts. I've had my taste of blood. There are a good many men in this world wha need killing. Crawford Stanton is one of them, and I'm not in a other.” ing past him with veiled. the gray eyes them put the steam roller over me?" he demanded irritably. “Is that your ideal of the perfect man?” “What I sald, and what I meant, yonl High Line and its fight for life,” she said calmly, reealling the wander- “l was thinking altogether of man's attitude toward his world.” one In soberly. “I've gone a long way since then, Corona.” “I know you have. daddy come back?” “He'll come soon enough. You're not afraid to be here alone with me, are you?” “No; but anybody might be afraid of the man you are golng to be.” His laugh was as mirthless as the creaking of a rusty hinge. “You needn't put it in the future tense. I have already broken with whatever traditions there were left to break with. Last night I threatened to kill Allen, and, perhaps, I should Why doesn’t a dog and dragged his wife and chil- «dren into it.” she was lookiftg past him. “And that isn't all. Yesterday Kin- zie set a trap for me and bated it with one of his clerks, For a little while it seemed as If the only way to spring the trap was for me to go after the clerk and put a bullet through him. It wasn't necessary, as it turned out, but if it had been—" ~ “Oh, you couldn't!” she broke in quickly. “I can’t believe that of you!” “You think I couldn't? Let me tell you of a thing that I have done. Night before last Verda Richlander had a wire from a young fellow who wants to marry her. He had found out that she was here in Brewster, and the wire was to tell her that he was coming In that night on the det layed ‘Flyer’ She asked me to meet him and tell him she had gone to bed, He is a miserable little wretch: a sort of sham reprobate ;: and she has never cared for him, except to keep him dan- gling around with a lot of others. I told her I wouldn't meet him, and she knew very well that I couldn't meet him—and stay out of jall. Are you listening?” “I'm trying to.” “It was the pinch, and I wasn't big enough-—in your sense of the word—to meet it. I saw what would happen. If Tucker Jibbey came here, Stanton would pounce upon him at snce: and Jibbey, with a drink or two under his belt, would tell all he knew, I fought it all out while I was waiting for the train. It was Jibbey's effacement, or the end of the world for me, and for anyon! High Line.” } er Baldwin's daughter was net of those who shriek and faint at the apparition of horror. But the gray eyes were dilating and her breath was coming in little gasps when she sald: “I ean'’t believe it! You are not go- ing to tell me that you met this man as a friend, and then—" “No; It didn’t quite come to a mur. der in cold blood, though 1 thought it might. | had Maxwell's runabout, and I got Jibbey lato it. He thought T was ‘going to ‘rive him to the hotel, After wa got ont of rawn he grew susplelous, 3 * and there was a struggle In the auto X=1 had to beat him over the head to make him keep quiet; I thought for { the moment that I had killed him, and I knew, then, just how far 1 had gone {onthe road I've been traveling ever since a certain night in the middle of {last May. The proof was in the way | I felt; I wasn't either sorry or horror- | stricken; I was merely relieved to | think that he wouldn't trouble me, or | clutter up the world with his worth- | less presence any longer.” “But that wasn't your real self!” | she expostulated. . “What was it, then?” { © “I don't know—I only know that It wasn't you. But tell me: did he die?” i No.” | “What have you done with him?" | “Do you know the old abandoned | Wire-Silver mine at Little Butte?” | “I knew It before it was abandoned, yes.” “} was out there one Suaday after. noon with Starbuck. The mine is bulk- headed and locked, but one of the keys on my ring fitted the lock, and Star- buck, and I went In and stumbled {around for a while in the dark tun- nels, I took Jibbey there apd locked {him up. He's there now.” { “Alone in that horrible place~and i without food?” “Alone, yes; but I went out yester- i day and put a basket of food where he | could get it.” “What are you golng to do with him?" | business, 80; and T'll go, too.” | She had risen, and at the summing- ito lighted street. When she came back Was very pale. “When I was in school, our old psychology professor used to try to tell { us about the underman ; the brute that {down only by reason and the super- { man. I never believed it was anything {more than a fine-spun’ theory—until inow. But now I know It is true.” He spread his hands. “I can't help it, can I?" | “The man that you are now can't {help it; no. But the man that you be—if he would only come she stopped with a little un- i controllable shudder and sat down covering her face with her } i i i i could { back—"" { again, hands. | “I'm going to turn Jibbey loose after I'm through.” he vouchsafed. | She took her hands away and blazed jup at him suddenly, 1 aflame, | “Yes! after you are safe; after there is no longer any risk in it for you! { him-—worse for you, I mean. | you see? It's the very depth of coward- ly infamy!” He smiled sourly. a coward? everything else but that in the past { few days.” “You are a coward!” she flashed (back. “You have proved it. You daren’'t go out to Little Butte tonight jand get that man and bring him to | Brewster while there Is yet time for {him to do whatever it is that you are i afrald he will do!" Was it the quintessence of feminine “You think I'm i } dignation, that told her how to alm | the armor-plercing arrow? God, who {alone knows the secret workings of {the woman heart and brain, can tell. Jut the arrow sped true and found its mark. Smith got up stiffly out of the { down at her, | “You think 1 did It for myself?— | Just to save my own worthless hide? “You Are a Coward” She Flashed Back. I'll show you; show you all the things that you say are now impossible. Did you bring the gray roadster?” 8he nodded briefly. “Your father Is coming back; I hear the elevator bell. I am going to take the car, and I don't want to meet him, Will you say what is needful?” She nodded again, and he went out quickly, It was only a few steps down the corridor to the elevator landing, and the stair circled the caged élevator shaft to the ground floor, Smith halt. ed In the darkened corner of the stair way long enough to make sure that the colonel, with Stillings and a wom. an in an automobile coat and vell-a woman who figured for him in the passing glance as Corona’s mother— got off at the office floor. Then he ran down to the street level, cranked [the gray roadster and sprang in to send the car rocketing westward, CHAPTER XIX. A Little Leaven. The summer-night stars served only to make the darkness visible along the road down the Timanyonl river and across to the mining camp of Red Butte. Smith twisted the gray road- ster sharply to the left out of the road, and four miles from the turn, shut off the power and got down to continue his journey afoot. The mine workings were tunneldriven In the mountain- side, and a crooked ore track led out to them, Smith followed the ore track until he came to the entrance, and to the lock of a small door framed in the bulkheading he applied a key. It was pitch dark beyond the door, and the silence was like that of the grave. Smith had brought a candle on his food-carrying visit of the day be- fore, and, groping in {ts hiding place just outside of the door, he found and lighted it. There was no sign of occu« pancy save Jibbey's sultcase lying where it had been flung on the night of the assisted disappearance. Smith stumbled forward into the black depths and the chill of the place laid hold upon him and shook him like the premonitory shiver of an ap- proaching ague. Insensibly he quick- ened his pace until he was hastening blindly through a maze of tunnels and cross driftings, deeper and still deeper into the bowels of the mountain, Com- ing suddenly at the last into the cham- ber of the dripping water, he found what he was searching for, and again the ague chill shook him. There were i no apparent signs of life in the sodden, | muck-begrimed figure lying in a crum- pled heap among the water pools, “Jibbey !" he called: and then again, {ignoring the unnerving, awe-inspiring { echoes rustling like flying bats in the cavernous overspaces: “Jibbey!" The sodden heap bestirred (itself slowly and became a man sitting up to blink helplessly at the light and | supporting himself on one hand. “Is that you, Monty?" sald a volce | tremulous and broken; and then: “1 jcan see, The light blinds me, Have { you come to fi-finish the job?" i “I have come to take you out of this; to take you back with me to | Brewster. Get up and come on.” The victim of Smith's ruthlessness struggled stiffly to his feet. Never by a life of dissipation, the blow on the head with the pistol butt and the forty-eight hours of sharp hardship rand privation had cut deeply into his | Seanty reserves, “Did—-did Verda send you to do it? he queried. “No; she doesn't know where You | are. She thinks you stopped over some- where on your way west. Come along, if you want to go back with me.” Jibbey stumbled away a step or two and flattened himself against the cav- ern wall. His eyes were still staring jand his lips were drawn back to show { his teeth, “Hold on a minute,” he jerked out. jout as easy as that. You've taken my gun away from me, but I've got my two hands yet. Stick that candle in a bole in the wall and look out for | yourself. I'm telling you, right now, {that one or the other of us is golug ito stay here—and stay dead!” “Don’t be a fool!” Smith broke in. 1 didn’t come here to scrap with you.” “You'd better—~and you'd better {make a job of it while you're about {1t!” shrieked the castaway, lost now | to everything save the biting sense of {his wrongs. “You've put It all over me—knocked my chances with Verda { Richlander and shut me up here in this hell-hole to go mad-dog crazy! If you {let me get out of here alive I'll pay you back, If it's the last thing I ever do! You'll go back to Lawrenceville with the bracelets on! You'll—" red rage could go no farther in mere echoes again with frantic, meaningless maledictions, Smith did not strike back ; wrapping the madman in a pinioning grip, he held him helpless. When it was over, and Jibbey had been released, gasping and sobbing, to stagger back against the tunnel wall, Smith groped for the candle and found and relighted it. “Tucker,” he sald gently, “you are more of a man than I took you to be a good bit more. Now that you're giv- ing me a chance to say it, I can tell you that Verda Richlander doesn't fig- ure In this at ail. I'm not going to marry her, and she didn’t come out here In the expectation of finding me.” “Then what does figure in It?" was the dry-lipped query. “It was merely a matter of self-pres- eérvation, There are men in Brewster who would pay high for the informa- tion you might give them about me.” “You might have given me a hint and a chance, Monty. I'm net all dog.” “That's all past and gone. I didn't give you your chance, but I'm going to give It to you now. Let's go—if you're fit to try It.” “Walt a minute, If you think, be cause you didn’t pull your gun now add drop me and leave me to rot in this hole, If you think that squares the deal" “I'm not making any conditions” Smith interposed. “There are n nums ber of telegraph offices In Brewster, and for at least two days longer 1 shall always be within easy reach.” Jibbey's anger flared up once more, “You think I won't do it? You think I'll be =o gind to get to some place where they sell whisky that I'll forget all about it and let yon off? Don’t yon make any mistake, Monty head and lock me up as if I were a yel- low dog. I'll fix you!” Smith made no reply. free arm in through the Linking his mazes, stopping at the and to pick up Jibbey's suitcase, In the open alr the freed captive tramped in sober silence at Smith's heels until they reached the automobile, At the bassooning deep-toned among bowlders, was near at hand, and Jib- bey spoke for the first time since they left the mine mouth. “I'm horribly thirsty, Monty. That water In the mine had copper or some- You didn’t know that, did you-—when you stop the car and let me go and stick my face in that river?” The car was brought to a stand and river bank in the starlight, some Inner prompting which he did “If You Think That Squares the Deal.” not stop to analyze, Smith left his seat behind the wheel and walked over to the edge of the embankment where Jibbey had descended. With the glare of the roadster’s acetylenes turned the other way, Smith could see Jibbey at the foot of the slope lowering himself face downward on his propped arms to reach the water, Then, in that Instant Jibbey, careless in his thirs?® lost his and went headlong into the | balance torrent. A battling had passed before Smith, battered, beaten and half- strangled, succeeded In landing the un- conscious thirst-quencher on a shely- ing bank three yards below the stopped automobile. After that there was another son in which he forgot his own brulsings while he worked desperately over the drowned man, raising and lowering the limp arms while he strove to recall more of the resuscitative given In the Lawrenceville club's first-aid drills, In good time, after an interval long that it seemed endless to the de spairing first.alder, the breath came back into the reluctant lungs. Jibbey choked, gasped and sat up His teeth were chattering, and he was chilled to the bone by the sudden plunge into the cold snow-water, but ha was unmistakably alive. “What-—what happened to me, Mon- ty?" he shuddered. “You did, for a fact." “And you went in after me?” “Of course.” “No, by gad! not by a long shot! All you had to do was to let me go, and the score— your score—would have been wiped out for good and all. {do It?" “Because I promised somebody that I would bring you beck to Brewster { tonight, alive and well, and able to {send a telegram.” Jibbey tried to get upon his feet, conidn’'t quite compass it, and sat down again. ean hundred completely directions Athletic 80 coughed, mumbled, loose-lipped. “You because you're not so danged tough and hard-hearted as you thought you were,” And then: "Give me a lift Monty, and get me Into the atto. I guess—I'm about—all in.” Smith half led, half carried his charge up to the road. A final heave lifted him into his place, and It 1s safe to say that Colonel Dexter Baldwin's roadster never made better time than the glow of the Brewster town lights reddening against the eastern sky. At the hotel Smith helped his drip ping passenger out of the car, made a quick rush with him to an elevator, and so up to his own rooms on the fourth floor. “Strip!” he commanded; “get out of those wet rags and tumble Into the bath. Make it as hot as you can stand it. I'll go down and register you and have your trunk sent up from the sta- tion. Yeu have a trunk, haven't you?" Jibbey fished a soaked card baggage check out of his pocket and passed it over, v “You're as bad off as I am, Monty,” he protested. “Walt and get some dry things on before you go.” “I'l be up again before you're out of the tub, I suppose you'd like to put yourself outside of a big drink of whisky, just about now, but “that's one thing I won't buy for youn. How would a pot of hot coffee from the cafe strike you? “You could make it baby food and Td drink it If you sald so.” chattered the drowned one from the inside of the wet undershirt he was trying to pull off over his head, (TO BE CONTINUED.) 60D FRUITS FOR i i (Prepared Bpecially by the United States Department of Agriculture.) The fruits which are so plentiful in many parts of the country this season may be saved by preserving as well a8 by canning. Preserves and simli- lar products differ from canned fruit in that much larger proportions of sugar are used in preparing them, in that they are cooked longer, and In that special sterilization in containers is not necessary in all cases. Because of this many of these products may be packed In larg-necked bottles sand ginsses, and sealed with cork, paraffin, ete. Tight-sealin may be saved for cann or » ing. Jams, marmalades, differ among themselves In the propor. tion of sugar used, the degree of cook- ing employed, and the consistency of the finished product Though less economical prepare .than canned fruit of the relatively large amounts of sugar used, preserves and similar preparations ffirnish a variety in the ways of putting up fruits and make valuable additions to the winter ration of sweet foods. Sirups in Preserving. When preserves are properly made the fruit keepy Its form, is plump, ten- jer, and of good color, the sur rounding sirup being also clear and of proper density. In making preserves the object is to have the fruit per mented with the sirup and this can be accomplished only by careful proced- ure. In order to prevent shrinkage it Jars thus Preserves, ete. to beciuse ' CiPAr thin sirup and Increase its density slowly by boiling the fruit in the sirup or by alternately cooking and sallow ing the product to stand immersed in the sirup. If at any time the fruit water, To make these sirups boll sugar and water together in the proportion giv- en below until sugar is dissolved. Strain all impurities out of the sirup ; before using : Sirup No. 1—Fourteen ounces sugar to one gallon water. * Sirup No. 2 sugar to one gallon water. Sirup No. 3-—-Three pounds | ounces sugar to one gallon water. Sirup No. 4—Five pounds, ounces sugar to one gallon water. Sirup No. 5—8ix pounds, 13 ounces sugar to one gallon water. If no wseales are avallable, the amounts of sugar may be approximat- | ed by measuring, using one pint for | each pound and ‘16 tablespoonfuls to | the half-pint. For the recipes which i follow all measurements are level and | the standard measuring cup holding | half-pint 1s used. | For fruits like peaches, pears, wa- ¥ Cooking —8ince long cooking 1 | Jures the color and flavor of fruits it Is desirable to cook delicate fruits such as berries for as short a time as possible. Cooling rapidly after | cooking gives preserves a better color and flavor than ean be secured when they are packed Standing im- mersed In sirup cooking also helps to plump them. If berry pre | serves are covered for a brief time before removing from fire and the ves left covered while the product will be more plump. hot. after wel cooling, For cooling, shallow enamel trays or pans are desirable. Tin {8 not de sirable because fruits will discolor in Pack preserves cold, bring the sirup in which they have stood to boil test by observing thickness wher poured Yrom a spoon, and if of proper density pour over the packed pre serves, paddling with thin wooden pad- dle or knife blade to remove all alr bubbles. If not of the right density for packing, the sirup must be concen- | trated by bolling. To seal properly and to insure safety from mold it is desirable that all preserves be pro- cesspd. Tight-sealing jars must be used, therefore, for these products, Since they can be sterilized below the bolling point, processing at simmering (88 degrees CC.) for 80 minutes is pre- ferable to boiling, because this tem- perature will give better color. 1 it. Te ng ing { The general directions given may be ‘applied to practically any fruit to make preserves. For additional con- venience, however, the following spe- cific recipes are given for products most likely to be abundant during the remainder of the season. Gingered Watermelon Rind.—To each pound of rind cut into ldnch squares, add two quarts of water and {| one ounce slaked lime. Let stand in lime water overnight. Next morning drain and let star2 Sne to two hours in fresh, cold water. Drain well and boll rapidly in strong ginger tea (one | ounce ginger to one quart water) for | 15 minutes. Drain, put Into No. 3 | sirup made by ubing one pint strained ginger tea with one quart water and | one and a half pounds of sugar. Cook until tender and transparent (about After boiling {a half-hour add half a lemon sliced | thin. Place in shallow pans to cool, | having the rind well covered with si- | vup. When arrange pleces at- | tractively in Jars, cover to overflowing | with sirup. Cap, clamp, and process, | The density of the packing sirup for {preserved and gingered watermelon | rind (also figs and peaches) should be | between that of No. 5 and No. 8. | Peach Preserves.—Boll three pounds | sugar and three quarts water together Strain out all { one and a half hours). cool until sugar Is dissolved. | termelon rind, ete. preserving should | impurities. Have four pounds peaches | be begun In sirup not heavier than No. | well sorted so that all are sound and | 8. Juley fruits like berries can be put | firm. Peel the fruit after immersing | at the beginning into a heavier sirup, | for about one minute (or until the about No. 4, because the abundant | #kin slips off easily) into boiling wa- julce of the fruit quickly reduces the | ter—then into cold. If desired, cut density of the sirup before shrinking | the fruit into halves, or thinner cres- can take place. When the preserves | cent-shaped slices. Add the peaches are finished and ready for packing, the | to the sirup and cook until clear and density of the sirup should have !ran<parent. Remove fruit to shallow reached that of No. 4 or No. 5. Sirup | tray, cover with sirup and let stand made with very acid fruits can be made heavier than pure sugar sirups eonking will not crystallize readily. Dotted Silk for Sailor Mats. One of the most practical and attrac. tive fashions of the present is the sallor hat, banded in polka-dotted fou- lard. The soft swathing of dotted silk softens the high, somewhat harsh erown which is trying to so many faces, The sallor hat belongs with tallor clothes—blue serge sults, silk sweat: ers, plain jersey dresses, or the severe type of sports clothes carry it off smartly. Blue banded in white foulard, with big blue dots or blue with white Jotx, 1s the prime favorite, But white Pack the preserves in sterflized jars, cover to overflowing with sirup, which should be further reduced by boiling if not thick enough. Adjust lid and combined with green, scarlet with white, beige with brown, and black and white claim a place for themselves, too, Working 24 Mours a Day. A Chicago plumber has been arrest. ed for leading a double life. By day he plied his trade, abd by night he Wis a robber. We don't know much about the robber business, but we have had some experience with plumb. ors, so we arise to ask the question where his double life comes in, —Grit,
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