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Nan §f
Music
Mountain
♦ By
FRANK H. SPEARMAN
Author of "WinSPESINQ SMITH"
(Cbßtiibi t>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
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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.)
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•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