GEORGE AGNE^OTJIBERLAIN THE czvrv&r COL SYNOPSIS , CHAPTER I—Alan Wayne Is sent away from Reel Hill, hts home, by hi" uncle, J. Y., as a moral failure. Clem runs after him in a tangle of short skirts to bid him good-by. CHAPTER IX—Captain Wayae tells Alan of the falling of the Waynes. Clem drinks Alan's health on his birthday. CHAPTER lll—Judge Healey buys a picture for Alix Lansing. The judge defends Alan in his business with his employers. CHAPTER IV—Alan and Alix meet at sea. homeward bound, and start a flirtation, which becomes serious. CHAPTER V—At home, Nance Ster ling asks Alan to go away from Alix. Alix is taken to task by Gerry, her husband, for her conduct with Alan and defies him. CHAPTER Vl—Gerry, as he thinks, sees Alix and Alan eloping, drops everything, and goes to Pernambuco. CHAPTER VII —Alix leaves Alan on the train and goes home to And that Gerry has disappeared. . CHAPTER Vlll—Gerry leaves Per nambuco and goes to Piranhas. On, a canoe trip he meets a native girl. CHAPTER IX—The judge fails to trace Gerry. A baby is born to Alix. CHAPTER X—The native girl taket | Serry to her home and shows him i the ruined plantation she is mistreat of. Gerry marries her. CHAPTER XI At Maple lioust (.'ollingeford tells how he met Alan — "Ten Per Cent. Wayne"—building a bridge in Africa. CHAPTER XII —Collingeford meeU | Alix and her baby and he gives hei encouragement about Gerry. CHAPTER Xlll—Alan comes back , to town but does not go home. He! makes several calls in the city. CHAPTER XlV—Gerry begins t< improve Margarita's plantation and j builds an irrigating ditch. CHAPTER XV—ln Africa Alar, reads Clem's letters and dreams ol I home. CHAPTER XVl—Gerry pastures! l.ieber's cattle during the drought. A baby comes to Gerry and Margarita. CHAPTER XVII Collingl'orti 1 meets Alix in the city and finds her changed. CHAPTER XVIII—AIan meets Alix J. Y. and Clem, grown to beautiful I womanhood, .n the city and realize* | that he has sold his birthright for u l.ioss of pottage. CHAPTER XlX—Kemp and Gerry become friends. CHAPTER XX-Ivemp and Gerry visit I Lieber and the threes exiles are drawn to gether by a common tie. CHAPTER XXl—l.leber tells Ills story. ! "Home is the anchor of a man's soul. I ► want to go home." CHAPTER XXII—In South America j Alan gets fever and his foreman prepares | to send him to the coast. CHAPTER XXIIT—AIan is carried to Lteber's fazenda, almost dead, and Gerry | sees him. Lieber nodded listlessly. "I'll look out for them." The next morning early Gerry saw liitn off. There was a wistful look in the old man's eyes as from the top of the cliff he turned and gazed down the river. "Lieber," said Gerry, "you can count on me to do what I can for you when I get home. Do you under stand?" ' Lieber flushed. Their eyes met. He j took Gerry's outstretched hand and gripped it hard. Then he rode away without a word. Lieber threw his horse into a rapid rack that was faster than a gallop. It was a killing pace, but ho knew the j mettle of his mount. Late in the after noon he came to the confines of his ranch. The broad-eaved bouse in the j distance looked very still and deserted, j Beyond it loomed the solitary joa tree. ' Something had happened to the joa iree during the two days he had been away. It had become a beacon. He remembered the giant Bougainvillea ! vine that covered the tree. The Bou- ' gainvillea had bloomed into a tower of mauve flame. It stood out in dar- | Ing contrast to somber desert and j brown-tiled roofs. Its single, defiant and blaring note struck an answering chord in Lieber's heart. He took cour age of that brave burst of color, so jarring in a garden, but in a desert a thing of glory. Lieber passed into the loneliness of his deserted house with a firm step. Gerry spent many days at Piranhas ! as he had planned in thought. He went over his life in a painstaking ; -etrospectlon. His mind lingered long j on the last three years, their fullness, ! their even upward trend. Could a man live three such years and lose them? j In a ghastly half hour the flood had j wiped out the tangible results of I three yetirs of labor. But what pbout the intangible? He had sinned against ! Alix and against her faith, but had he ! sinned against himself? He felt infl- j nitely older than the first Gerry Lau- ' sing, but would he change this think- j Ing age for his unthinking youth? j TV hat if he had learned three years ago that Alix had saved herself and , his name? Would it have meant loss 6r gain to him today? Something within him cried, "Loss! Loss!" but ho dared not take courage from the in ward cry. He could not know, he rea j soned, until he had seen Alix. Twice, three times, the little stern- : wheeler drove her nose into the mud I bank at Piranhas, called her hoarse I warning and departed. From some dis tant cliff Gerry saw her come and go. or, miles away, walking himself tired across the desert, heard her throaty siren cry and did not heed it. It was with some misgivings that j Kemp left Alan at the coast. Alan was still very weak. Kemp stood, more in SATURDAY EVENING, HARRISBURG s£&&&£■ TELEGRAP t MARCH 25, 1916. , . «.«as than ever, against the rail ' _«. the little coaster bound for Pernam buco and eyed Alan, whom he had made comfortable in a camp bed on the deck. "It seems to me, Mr. Wayne," he said, "that there motight be business waitin' for me at Pernambuco thet I do'n' know nothin' about. I've got a hunch I'd best go along of you and see." Alan smiled. "I know what your bunco is, Kemp, and it's a wrong one. I'm all right. Weak, but I'll make it Don't worry." Kemp was standing in angles. His bands were thrust in his trousers pock ets, but even so his elbows were crooked. One foot was raised on a rail. He was coatiess as usual. His unbuttoned vest stuck out behind. His i Stetson hat was pulled well down over his eyes. His eyes had taken on the far-away and slightly luminous look that always came into them when he j was about to speak from the heart. "Mr. Wayne," he said, "I've tol' you ! some things about Lieber an' you've seen some more. You know how he stands. Lieber's llvin' in hell, like a rich greaser in the Bible with his tongue stuck out beggin' for oue drop i of water, only Lieber hain't got his tongue stuck out —he's bitin' it." Kemp paused and Alan nodded. "I was thinkin'," Kemp continued, "thet perhaps you'n Mr. Lansing, with | yo' folks he'pin'. mought chuck him that drop o' water when you got back to heaven, meanin' Noo Yawk." Kemp brought his eyes slowly around and i rested them on Alan. "Kemp," said Alan, "don't you wor ry. If J. Y. Wayne & Co. haven't gone to smash or the world otherwise come to an end. you can he sure Lieber will get his water in a full bucket." Kemp nodded and with a "S'long and good luck," disappeared down the gangway. At Pernatubuco Alan found an ac cumulation of mail awaiting him and a liner bound for home. The liner was too big to get into the little harbor be hind the reef. She rode the swell a mile out from shore. Alan lost no time In making his transfer. From the tender he was winched up to the deck in a passenger basket. As ho left the wicker coop he smiled at himself In disgust. Ten Percent Wayne had often jumped for a gangway from the top of a flying sea; never before had he gone on board as cargo. But the smile suddenly left his face. He reeled and put out one hand toward a rail. Somebody caught his arm and led him to n long chair. He sank into it and shivered. It was a girl that had helped him. A§ soon as she saw he was not going to faint she left him, to come back presently with the doctor and a room steward. They took charge of him. Day after day Alan lay in his cabin, listless, before he thought of his batch of letters. They were still in the pocket of his coat. He asked the stew ard to hand them to him, looked through them, picked out one and laid the rest aside. The one he picked out was Clem's. 'With her own peculiar wisdom Clem had written not about him or herself, but about Red Hill. Alan read and then dropped the letter to his lap. His hands fell clenched at his sides. His eyes, grown large, stared out down the long vista of the mind. Walls faded away and the sounds of a great ship at sea were suddenly dumb. To his ears came instead the caroling of birds in evening soug after rain, to his eyes a vision of Red Hill dripping light from Its myriad leaves and to his heart the protecting, brooding shelter of Maple House—of home. It cleanses a man's soul to have been at death's door. Sickness, more than love, leads a man up. Alan was feel ing cleansed—like a little child—so it seemed a quite natural thing that the girl who had taken charge of him on his arrival on board should knock at his door and then walk In. She drew out a camp-stool and sat down beside him. She was very small and very young, not in years but with what Alan termed to himself acquired youth. Her ; nearsighted eyes peered out through : big glasses. They seemed to see only i when they made a special effort, and yet they seemed to give out light. "You are better?" she asked, and smiled. Alan caught his breath at that smile. "Yes," he said, "I atu much better to day. I have had a letter from home." "You must get up now and come up on deck," said the girl. "I'll wait | for you outside." Her voice had a pe '■ culiar modulation. It attracted and ! soothed the ear. Alan frowned and then smiled. "All ; right," he said, "wait for me." He dressed laboriously. His hands seemed weighted. On deck she had Ills chair ready for him beside her own. She tucked his rug about him and then sat down. "Don't talk ever, unless you want to," she said. "Silent people are best." "Why?" asked Alan. "They are springs. Their souls bubble." "And the people that chatter?" asked Alan. j "They are geysers," said the girl, I and sailed. 'To He Continued* i W DE A WAKE" WAR B OF MT. UNION W PENN ROAD THROUGH ITS HEART UJMjm *** ~wt Wr< |jr 11 It 7 ■Hf fMdE^mKU&MK The upper picture shows just a small part of the number of men who re side in Mt. Union an