[jfii Readiiy[ T Ow w Aortbur'l Soul (Continued) SYNOPSIS. I CHAPTER I— On Frontier day at Sleer •Cat, Henry de Spain, gunman and trai: master at Medicine Bend. Is beaten target shooting by Nan Morgan of MUF Mountain. Jeffries, division superlnte dent. a*ks Do Spain to take charge of tl Thief River stage line, but he refuses. CHAPTER ll—De Spain sees Nan danc ing with Gale Morgan, Is later derisively pointed out to Nan on the street by Gale, and is moved to change his mind and ac cept the stage line Job. CHAPTER III—De Spain and Defever ride to Calabasas Inn and there meet Gale Morgan with Deaf Sandusky and Bassoon, gunmen and retainers of the Morgan clan. Morgan demands the dle charge„of a stage driver and De Spain re fuses. De Spain meets Nan but falls to overcome her aversion to him. "Tlie old story," remarked De Spain, inspecting with mild-mannered Interest the punctured plastering, "they always Bhoot high." He walked over to the left end of the bar, noting the hard usage shown by the ornate mahogany, aud spreading his hands wido open, palms down, on the face of it, glanced at the low win dow on his left, opening on the grav eled patio. lie peered, in the semi darkness, at the battered door behind the bar. "Henry," observed Lefever, "if you nre looking for a drink, it would only be fair, as well as politic, to call the Mexican." De Spain, turning, looked all around the room again. "You wouldn't think," he said slowly, "from looking at the place there was a road-agent with in a thousand miles." "You wouldn't think, from riding through the Superstition mountains there was a lion within a thousand miles. I've hunted them for eleven years, and I never saw one except when the dogs drove 'em out; but for eleven years they saw me. If we haven't been seen coming In here by some of this Calabasas bunch, I miss my guess," declared Lefever cheer fully. The bctton door behind the bar now began to open slowly and noiselessly. Lefever peered through It. "Come In, Pedro," he cried reassuringly, "come In. man. Thlfi is no olficer. no revenue agent looking for ;-r>ur license. Meet B friend, lVdr*\ ' he continued encour agingly, as tUc sirrihy publican, low browed nnl sullen, emerged very de liberately fnwn tho Inner darkness into the obscurity of tha barroom, and bent his one pood eye sparchlngly on De Spain. "This," Lofvver's left hand lay familiarly on the Ivtck of De Spain's shoolder> "is our new manager, Mr. Henry de Spate. Henry, shake bands Iwlth Mexico."' This invitation to shake hands seemed an empty formality. De Spain never shook hands with anybody; at least 'f he did so, he extended, through habit long inured, his left hand, with an excuse for tho soreness of his right. Pedro did not even be.t his remaining eye at the Invitation. The situation, as Lefever facetiously rcmnrked, re mained about wherw It was before he spoke, when the sound of galloping horses came throng!) the open door. A moment later three men walked, sin gle file, into the room. De Spain stcod at the left end of the bar, and Lefever Introduced him to Gale Morgan, to David Sassoon. and to Sassoon's crony, Deaf Sandusky, as the new stage-line manager. The later arrivals lined up before the bar, Sandusky next to Le fever and De Spain, so he could hear ■what "was sale!. Pedro from his den produced two queer-looking bottles and a supply of glasses. "De Spain." Gale Morgan began bluntly, "one of our men was put off a stage of yours last week by Frank El paso." He spoke without any pre liminary compliments, and his heavy yoice was bellicose. De Spain, regarding him undis turbed, answered after a little pause: "Elpaso told me he put a man off his stage last week for fighting." "No," contradicted Morgan loudly, "not for fighting. Upaso was drunk." "What's the name of the man El paso put off, John 7* asked De Spain, looking at Lefever. Morgan hooked his thumb toward the man standing at his side. "Here's the man right here, Dave Sassoon." Sassoon never looked a man In the face when the man looked at him, ex cept by Implication; it was almost Im possible, without surprising him, to catch his eyes with your eyes. He seemed now to regard De Spain keen ly, as the latter, still attending to Mor gan's statement, replied: "Elpaso tells a pretty straight story." "Elpaso couldn't tell a straight story If he tried," Interjected Sassoon. "I have the statement of three other psssengers; they confirm Elpaso. Ac cording to them. Bassoon —" De Spain looked straight at the accused, "was drunk and abusive, and kept trying to put some of the other passengers off. Finally ho put his fset In the lap of Pumperwasser, our tank and windmill man, and Pumperwasser hit him." L Morgan, stepping back from the bar. TUESDAY EVENING, The Scribb Family—They Live Right Here in Harrisburg—By Sullivan jn W GIT fll rriopT U THE OH.&OODhT) 111 L_l ■— l \ THE FAMILV FOR A■ / \FOLKS Aft HOME-/ \WU ALL HfINE A / \ SPIN ALONG THE / Ik M > VNICE RIDE IN THE / ( ' waved nis nana witn an air or ttnallty toward his Inoffensive companion: "Here is Sassoon, right here—he can tell the whole story." "Those fellows were miners," mut tered Sassoon. His utterance was brokeif, but ho spoke fast. "They'll side with the guards every time against a cattleman." "Sassoon," interposed Morgan bel ligerently, "is a man whose word can always be depended on." "To convey his meaning," intervened Lefever cryptically. "Of course, I know," he asserted, earnest to the point of vehemence. "Everyone In Calabasas has the highest respect for Sassoon. That is understood. And," he added with as v.uch impresslveness as if he were talking sense, "everybody in Calabasas would be sorry to see Sas soon put off n stage. But Sassoon is off: that is the situation. We are sorry. If it occurs again—" "What do you mean?" thundered Morgan, resenting the interference. "De Spain is the manager, isn't he? What we want to know is, what you are going to do about it?" he demand ed, addressing De Spain again. "There is nothing more to be done," returned De Spain composedly. "I've already told Elpaso if Sassoon starts another tight on a stage to put him oft again." Morgan's fist came down on the bar. "Look here, De Spain! You come from Morgan's Fist Came Down on tho Bar. Medicine Bend, don't you? Well, yon can't bully Music Mountain men—un derstand that." "Any time you have a renl grievance, Morgan, I'll be glad to consider it," said De Spain. "When one of your men Is drunk and quarrelsome he will be put off like any other disturber That we can't avoid. Public stages can't be run any other way." "All right," retorted Morgan. "If you take that tack for your new man agement, we'll see how you get along running stages down In this country." "We will run them peaceably, Just as long as we can," smiled De Spain. "We will get on with everybody that gives us a chauce." (To Bo Continued) "The Insider" By Virginia Terhune Van de Water Chapter X\n. Copyright, 1917, Star Company. Two days later Tom Norton's school report reached his father. I was informed of this fact by Mrs. Gore. 1 had noticed at breakfast a prevalent atmosphere of gloom. Tom was quiet, and his face was dark. Mr. Norton was taciturn, eating rapidly, as was his wont when perturbed. Mis. Gore made an occasional futile re mark which fell flat. At last she, too, lapsed into silence. "Isn't daddy displeased this morn-1 ing, Miss Dart?" Grace questioned; me as we left the dining room. "Per haps Tom's done something naughty, | don't you think?" "Hush, dear, he will hear you," I > warned. Tom did not hear, but Mrs. Gore, who was right behind us, did. "Stop in my room for a minute, won't you. Miss Dart?" she proposed as we reached the second floor. "Grace, you can run away and tell your father goodby before he goes downtown, then come back up here. I did not protest, although I feared the child might interrupt some con ference betweein father and son. It was not my business to interfere with what Mrs. Gore thought right and proper. "Grace was asking you If Tom had been naughty," the widow said when we were alone In her room. 'The truth is that my poor brother is much upset about Tom's report, which reached him last evening. It seems that the boy has failed again In alge bra and geometry. I cannot under stand why he does such things." "Perhaps he has no aptitude for mathematics," X suggested. "I heard him say that he does not like them." ".No, and he never lias. But that's no excuse for his failing as often its he does. I could blame him less tf he was not able to pass in everything else. That he does pass in other studies proves that he has a fair mind and could get good marks In algebra and geometry if he took the trouble to apply himself." "Oh. I hardly think that, Mrs. ] Gore!" I demurred. "I have known cases of students who, for instance, had no difficulty in acquiring lan guages and yet failed lamentably In mathematics. I am sorry for the boy." A Scolding for Tom "I am sorrier for his father," Mrs. Gore retorted. "Tom wo.-ries him dreadfully. As for me, I don't pre tend to understand the child. He re sents any suggestions of mine as to ! his manners and ways. I hate to sec Brewster all upset like this over his , only son." "What Is Mr. Norton going to do about it?" T asked. "Well, I don't quite know. If Tom is to pass his examinations next fall for college he will have to make up for lost time by studying this summer. He will have to be sent away to tome place to study—or he will have to work at home. Personally, I believe the former plan would be the better — to send him away from home again." My heart ached or the boy; but I held my peace. Graee, coming in Just then, spared me the necessity of further reply. When she and I were upstairs preparing to begin her ls --son she confided to me that when she went downstairs just now her father "was scolding Tom very hard." "So I didn't stay there," she added shrewdly. That noon Grace and T, having fin ished the morning's lessons, were strolling together along Riverside Drive and met Tom Norton. His hands were In his pockets, Und he was gazing moodily on the path at his feet. Grace stopped short In front of him. "Hello. Tom!" she greeted him. He started nervously. "Oh. hello!" be returned grulTly. Then, seeing me, he lifted his hat and tried to smile. At that Instant Grace ran over to the river wall to watch a small i steamer. This gave me an opportnnl ly for a word alone with her brother.- "If you are not In a hurry, why HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH not sit down here for a few minutes," I proposed, dropping down upon a bench. "It's unseasonably warn?, isn't it? And I feel rather tired." "So do I." He sat down beside me and began digging holes in the gravel in front of him with a small stick he picked up. "I'm lazy all the time, father thinks. I guess he thinks, too, that I'm no good. Miss Dart—and all because I flunked math." I laid my hand lightly on his arm. "Tom," I said softly, "promise you won't tell anybody if I confess some thing to you." A Confidence He looked at me inquiringly. "What is It?" "I flunked mathematics myself in my junior year," I whispered. He widened his eyes, then burst into a boyish laugh. "You did!" he exclaimed. "Gee! What do you know about that? What did you do?" "My father Coached me that sum mer," I said. "He was not well, and he could not go out much, so he had time to give to me. He coached me —and I passed my examinations." "I wish father knew that," the boy muttered. "But I won't tell him. Everything I say just gets me in mora wrong with him." "I'm perfectly willing to tell him." I declared, "for I can sympathize with you." The color crept into the lad's face. "Then you're the only one in the fam ily who can," he said. "They're both —father and Aunt Adelaide—sore on me." "Well, I am not," I assured him. "If you think it will help, I will say as much to your father when I get the chance." "But I've got to pass next fall's ex aminations," the boy said. "Father threatens to send-me to a summer DAILY DOT PUZZLE c • is I ,4. % 5 *3. "9 si • • • • • . •* n li / 3.- > ' *" '^o \ 34' 32. 25 • & \ SS' *3l ' ' 5 ' | V " Oy Vy 1 school somewhere—and not let me go to Hillcrest —our country place in Connecticut, you know. And that's the place I love—the only place that's a bit like home to me. I look for ward to it all the year. But .since I've got to make good, what can I do?" There was a childish tremble in his voice. "Just what I did," I reminded him. "Hav somebody coach you at home all summer. That's easy," (To Be Continued.) These iamous cor- V seta are j exclusively for STEELASTIC medium and full . a/cddiais* I \ l -SiU figures, where the WtuulNb V C or the double watch- r*Clw\yU- /' 1 \ spring steels, ££ir / 1 IT 7 TK \\ i UVi n For Sale by . V: V, cP>,■ f .jT- Dives, Pomeroy # ' land Stewart PficeSl $2, $3, $5 j "" "" ' : ' 1 . ' - ■' ' . ' •APRIL 3, 1917. PLAN' MEMBERSHIP CAMPAIGN Members of Dauphin Conclave, No. 96, Improved Order o£ Heptasophs, held their first meeting In the new headquarters of the organization, 26 North Third street. The Conclave for merly met at 321 Market street. Plans were made last night for a member ship campaign. The committee in eludes L. O. Phillips, John Bateman, Morris Heverling, AV. 11. Grove and A. G. German. . Miss Fairfax Answers Queries DON'T THINK—ACT Dear Miss Fairfax: I am seventeen and find time hang ing heavily on my hands. I have been graduated from public and com mercial school, but cannot find a posi tion, because every where I go they all -want experienced girls. My mo ther and brother nag at me because 1 don't work and pay back for the schooling I had. But what am I to do? I want to work. There is noth ing I can find to do but read and think, think, think and it is driving me fnad. If something doesn't turn up soon, I feel that I'll do something that I will regret all my life. Despondent. Go to some good employment bu reau and register there. Then make up your mind to start on low salary, ' if need be, and to work up until merit brings you in more means. Don't sit around and think in desperation, but set about with a firm determination to secure work as soon as may be. There is nothing desperate in your situation; the world is full of people who have far more serious troubles to bear. VOU ARE MERCENARY Dear Miss Fairfax: I am seventeen years of age and working as a stenographer for the j last fifteen months at a salary of sl2 j per week, and deeply in love with a j bachelor of thirty-seven, who is a j teacher, earning a salary of $250 per ! month. Many of my friends sax that ! I ought to drop him on account of the j difference in our ages, J>ut I think, 1 since we love each other, our ages should not interfere. And as he is capable of providing a nice home for me, and separation would mean a heartbreak for each, 1 do not see much reason for taking my friends' advice. Anxious. You seem more impressed by your fiance's earning capacity and the com- I forts marriage with hinx would bring j than anything else. Frankly, I con ! sider you too immature for marriage, j and have a little suspicion that what I you call love is simply an apprecia tion of the fact that you can get out I ot working and be taken care of. Not a Real Trouble DEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I am eighteen. About two years ago I met a man iifteen years my senior at a boarding house. 1 moved away and never thought of him until last September, when he called. Since then I have been out twice with him. I do not like the man, but my mother thinks I should have him'just for a friends. I know he wants to be more • than a friend. I would like to get , him out of my mind altogether. Could r you please give me some of your good , advice and help me out of this un happy situation. ANXIOUS. There seems no particular reason s why you should "have this man on your mind." If he does not interest you, do not see him. If you hjive any ' Reason to suppose he want's to marry , you and yotj feel that you could never i care for him, the best thing to do is to tell him so. 9