I! 1 /*") inr i mw 11? vr-v •* '! JLJMliljil I ÜBS Rcfldnvf &ivd all Ike fartukj "THE INSIDER"! By Yrglnia Terhune Van dc Wt'r.| CHAPTER XXIX Although I had feared the effect of the breakfast table conversation upon the relations existing between 51 rs. Gore and myself, I saw, to m> relief, that lier manner toward me was as usual. It may be that she had not forgotten the experience which had proved that It was a mistake to oppose her brother-in-law's will to ward me. She had much to lose and nothing to gain by incurring his dis pleasure and my animosity. While I was not attracted to Mrs. Gore, and did not entirely trust her, 1 could understand and sympathize partially with her state of mind. Be fore my arrival she had stood first in the affections of her small niece. Now that I. once an outsider, had come into the home, Grace clug to me, and her father upheld my man agement of her and showed his ap proval of me. The widow would have been more than human had she not felt a secret resentment and jealousy toward me. Yet as she was. apparently, making p.n effort to conceal these sentiments, it behooved me to ignore them. When off her guard, as at the table this morning, she said disagreeable things but these occurrences were the ex ception, not the rule. So I found it easy to be magnani mous tha't day and even suggested that she and Grace have their after noon drive alone together, leaving me at home. Grace protested: but I told the child that it would make "Auntie" happy to have her all to herself, and she submitted with her usual docility. I flattered myself that I had acted wisely until 1 heard Mrs. Gore tell Mr. Norton when he came home that, us Miss Dart had not cared to accompany Grace on her outing that afternoon, she herself had taken the child out. I said nothing;. I would not tell my employer that I had act ed from altruistic motives and not with the desire to shirk my duty. But, although I held my peace, Grace did not. •"Miss Dart said that Auntie would like better going alone with me than having her along in the car," she piped up in her shrill treble. So, after all, I was justified to my employer. 1 was conscious of a childish ex citement tn dressing for dinner that evening. As on the Sunday night on which I had acted as hostess for Mr. Norton's guests, I donned my little white gown. I did wish that it had been something handsomer than a simple chiffon, but it was quite good enough for the governess of Mr. Norton's daughter. As I was surveying myself in the mirror a knock sounded on my door. In answering it I was surprised to find Mr. Norton standing in the hall, * a box in his hand. F "I want to leave these with you. I am just on my way t see Grace," he explained hurriedly. Ho went on toward the nursery, and I closed my door and opened the box, It contained a large corsage bouquet of pink and white sweet peas. I pinned the flowers at my belt. Thev gave to my dress just the touch it needed. For months, since mv father's death, I had wore no color, only black, white and gray. As I thought of this I felt a throb of gratitude to the man who was bring ing bright touches into my somber life. He was old enough to be my father. Surely I might accept fa vors from him. I thanked him a half hour later when I came into the library where he was waiting for dinner to be an nounced. "These are perfectly beautiful, I said, indicating the sweet peas. "I am very grateful to you for them.' He smiled down at me as he stood by me. "And I thank you for not fussing about accepting them," he rejoined. "I am glad to see you wearing them. The pink in them just harmonizes with that exquisite flush in your cheeks." I was spared the necessity of re plying to this compliment by Tom's entrance. "Good evening:" he greeted me cheerfully. "I say, Miss Dart, you | look awfully nice!" Later, at the table, where I sat op posite Hugh Parker, I fancied I de tected a gleam of admiration in the guest's eyes, too. I was young, and the appreciation that I was not un- j attractive went to my head like wine, j I found myself talking as if I had al- j wavs been accepted as an equal by j these people. I let myself forget the side table and sundry little happen ings that rendered me uncomfortable. And Mr. Norton, his guest and his son joined in the talk. So content was I that I was not disturbed by Mrs. Gore's unusual silence. For It was not the silence of bad temper —rather that of thoughtfulness. When spoken to she replied pleasantly, but she volunteer ed few remarks. Yet when dinner was over, and the car was announced, she asked me what I was going to wear over my white frock. ... "I have only one thing I can wear, I said, "and that is my heavy winter coat. That and the jacket that goes, with my new suit are the only wraps i I own." , "Let me lend you my black satin cloak," she urged kindly. "You will not need a hat, you know, since you | will be in the machine." I was not accustomed to going to theater parties, and I had forgotten that one must wear wraps appropri ate to such occasions. "Oh, something might happen to your cloak," I protested. "I ought not to wear It." "Nonsense!" she exclaimed. Come to my room with me." Five minutes later I came down stairs enveloped In a long black satin coat. I knew it was handsome, but not suitable for a girl of my age. Still I was grateful for it. Over my head I had thrown a black chiffon scarf. "Why, Miss Dart —you look like a little nun!" Tom declared. "Come on—father and Mr. Parker are wait ing outside. Isn't this a lark, though!" Grasping my arm as if I had been a girl In his own set, he ran down the front steps with me to the wait ing motor. (To Be Continued.) COLUMBIA BANKS CONSOLIDATE Columbia, Pa.. April 18.—Consoli dation of the First National and Co lumbia National Banks was consum mated Monday and the combined in stitutions will have a capital stock of $460,000. H. M. North, Jr.. has been named president of the consolidated bank, and Horace Dotwller becomes cashier. WEDNESDAY EVENING, The Scribb Family—They Live Right Here in Harrisburg—By Sullivan 11 ss HERE -nwr a I II EN mo BE IWEtTME llff *TCWW r / I^TOW!] 1 1 1 1 IT All J ' f. g | 181 T™ fl UTTI6 nW, SUN- - 1 \, I / ~ , \ \ / )=Z~~Z>- mtomLySl H"" !j Nan j Music i j| Mountain \ < ► X A 1 A T ? 41 V i B r 1 'X FRANK H. SPEARMAN j <f Author of "WHISPERING SMITH" $ i (Coprriglit >-"<•- ... ftor.l (■Continued) SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I—On Frontier day at Sleepy Cat. Henry de Spain, gunman and train master at Medicine Bend. Is beaten at target shooting by Nan Morgan of Music Mountain. Jeffries, division superinten dent, asks Do Spain to take charge of the 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, arsj is moved to change his mind and ac cept the stage line job. CHAPTER III—De Spain and Lefever ride to Calabasas inn and there meet Gale Morgan with Deaf Sandusky and Bassoon, gunmen and retainers of the Morgan clan. Morgan demands the dis charge of a stage driver and De Spain re fuses. De Spain meets Nan but falls to overcome her aversion to him. CHAPTER IV—Sassoon knifes Elpaso, the stage driver, and escapes to Morgan's gap, the stronghold of the Morgans. De Spain. Lefever and Scott go In after him. and De Spain brings out Sasson alone. CHAPTER V—He meets Nan. who de lays him until nearly overtaken by the Morgans, but lands his captive tn jail. CHAPTER Vl—Sassoon breaks jail. De Spain beards the Morgans In a saloon and Is shot at through the window. He meets Nan again. CHAPTER VII—He prevents her going Into a gambling hall to find her Uncle Duke and Inside faces Sandusky and Lo gan, who prudently decline to fight at the time. CHAPTER VIII—De Spain, anxious to make peace with Nan, arranges a little plan with McAlptn, the barn man, to drive her out to Morgan's gap, and while waiting for her goes down to the Inn to get a cup of coffee. CHAPTER IX—ln tho deserted barroom he Is trapped. He kills Sandusky and Logan, wounds Gale and Sassoon and es capes, badly wounded. CHAPTER X—Bewildered and weak, he wanders into Morgan's gap and is dis covered on Music mountain by Nan. Crawling, choking with thirst, slow ly forward, he reached the water, and, reclining on his side and one elbow, he was about to lean down to drink when he suddenly felt, with some kind of an Instinctive shock, that he was no long er alone on the ledge. He had no in terest In analyzing the conviction; he did not even question It. Not a sound had reached his ears. Only a moment before he had looked carefully all around. But the field of his vision was closely circumscribed by the walls about him. It was easy for an Invader to come on his retreat unawares—at all events, somebody, he was almost sure, stood behind him. The silence meant an enemy. The first thing to expect was a bullet.- It would prob ably be aimed at the back of his head. At least he knew this was the spot to aim for to kill a man instantly and painlessly—yet he shrank from that anticipated crash. His thoughts, working in flashes of ; lightning, suggested every possible trick of escape, and as rapidly rejected ' each. There was nothing for It but to play the part, to take the blow with no more than a quiver when it came. He had once seen a man shot In just that way. Braced to such n determina tion, De Spain bent slowly downward, and, with eyes staring into the water for a reflection that might afford a glimpse of his enemy, he began to drink. Each mouthful of water was a struggle. The sense of impending death had robbed even the life-giving drafts of theif tonic; each instant carried its acute Sensation of being the last. At length, his nerves weakened by hunger and exposure, revolted under the | strain. Suppose it should be, after all. I a fantasy of his fever that pictured so ' vividly an enemy behind. With an ef- j fort that cost more mental torture than he ever had known, he drew back on j his elbow from the pool, steadied him- 1 self, turned his head to face his execu-' tloner, and confronted Nan Morgan. ' CHAPTER XI. Parley. She stood beside the rock from which the ledge was reached from be low, and as if she had just stepped up ' Into sight. Her rifle was so held in i both hands that it could be fired from I her hip, and at such close quarters! with deadly accuracy. As she stood j with startled eyes fixed on his hag- | gard face, her slender neck r.nd poised ! head were very familiar to De Spain. And her expression, while It reflect ed her horrified alarm, did not conceal her anger and aversion at the sight o 1 him. Unaware of the forbidding spec tacle he presented, De Spain, swept bj a brainstorm nt the appearance of this i Morgan—the only one of all the Mor | gans he had not fancied covering him 1 and waiting to deliver his death war- ! rant —felt a fury sweep over him at j the wild thought that she meant to kill j him. Whatever she meant to do, he could no more lire at this girl, even had he a chance—and he realized he was al her mercy—than he could nt his sister; and he lay with his eyes bent on hers, trying to read her purpose. He read In her face only abhorrence and con demnation, nnd felt in no way moved to argue her verdict. "I suppose," ht said, at length, not trying to disguise Ills bitter resentment of her presence, "you've come to finish me." His shirt stained and tattered foi bandages, his lialr matted In blood on his forehead, his eyes lnflumed and sunken, his lips crusted and swollen, the birthmark fastened vividly on his cheek, made him a desperate sight. Ite gardlng him steadily, Nan. as bewil dered as If sho had suddenly couie on n great wounded beast of prey still dangerous, made no response to his words. The two stared ut each othei defiantly and for another moment in silence. "If you are going to kill me,' he continued, looking into her eyes without any thought of appeal, "do il quick." ly Ills long, unyielding HARRDSBTJRG TELEGRAPH gaze impelled her to break the spell of it. "What are you doing here?" she demanded with anger, curbing her voice to control her excitement as best she could. De Spain, still looking at her, an swered only after a pause. "Hiding," he said harshly. "Hiding to kill other men!" Nan's accusation as she clutched her rifle was almost explosive. He regarded her coolly, and with the interval he had had for thinking, his wits were clearing. "Do I look like a man hunting for a fight? Or," he added, since she made no answer, "like a man hunting for a quiet spot to die In?" "I know you are a murderer." In spite of his weakness he flushed. "No," he exclaimed sharply, "I'm not a murderer. If you think it"—he point ed contemptuously to her side—"you have your rifle—use it!" "You came here to hide to kill some body !" she exclaimed. "What do you mean by 'here'? ] might better ask why you came here," he retorted. "I don't know where I am. Do I look as if I came here by choice?" He paused. "Listen," h( ?aid, quite master of himself, "I'll tell you why I came. I shall never get away alive, anyway—you can have the truth if you want it. I got off my horse in the night to get a drink. He bolted. I couldn't walk. I climbed up here to hide till my wounds heal. Now, I've told you the truth. Where am I?" The grip of her hands on the rifle might have relaxed somewhat, but she saw his deadly revolver in its accus tomed place and did not mean to sur render her command of him. Nor would she tell him where he was. She parried his questions. He could get no information of any sort out of her. Yet he saw that something more than his mere presence detained and per plexed her. Her prompt condemna tion of him rankled in his mind, and the strain of facing her suspicion wore on him. "I won't ask you anything more," he said at length. "You think I ve no right to live—that's what you think, isn't It? Why don't you shoot?" She only stared at him. "Why don't you answer?" he demanded recklessly. Nan summoned her resolution. "] know you tried to kill my cousin," she said hotly, after he had taunted her once more. "And I am going to think what to do before I tedl you anything or do anything." "You know 1 tried to kill your cou sin ! You know nothing of the kind. Your cousin tried to kill me. He's a bully and a coward, a man that doesn't know what fair fighting means." "You are safe in abusing him when he's not here." "Send him to tn!" His voice shook ■with anger. "Tell him I'm wounded; tell him I've had nothing to eat since I fought him before. And If he's still afraid" —De Spain drew and broke his revolver almost like a flash. In that incredibly quick Instant she realized he might have threatened her life be fore she could move a muscle—"tell your fine cousin I've got one cartridge left—Just one I" So saying, he held In one hand the loaded curtrldge and In tbe_other the empty revolver. "You've asked me to go—l'm going. How much of what you tell me is true, I don't know. But I can believe my own eyes, and I believe you are not In condition to do much injury, even if you came here with that intention. You will certainly lose your life if you move from your hiding place." She started away. He leaned toward her. "Stop." he said peremptorily, raising himself with a wrenching ef fort. Something in the steVn eye held her. His extended hand pointed toward her as arbitrarily as if, instead of lying helpless at her feet, he could command her to his bidding. "I want to ask you a question. I've told you the truth. I have just one cartridge. If you are "lt' Only Fair I Should Know It Now—lsn't It?" going to send your cousin and his men here, it's only fair I should know it now—isn't it?" "My cousin is wounded," she said, pausing. And then with Indecision: "If you stay here quietly you are not likely to be molested." She stepped down from the ledge as noiselessly as she had come. Shaken by the discovery she had so unexpect edly made, Nan retreated almost pre cipitately from the spot. And th 6 question of what to do worried her as much as It worried De Spain. Tht whole range had been shaken by the Calnbasas fight. Even the men in Morgan's gap, supposed to be past masters of the game played in the closed room at Calabasas, had been stunned by the Issue of the few mln utes with Jeffries' new man. Nan, who hnd heard but one side ol the story, pictured the uggressor from the tale of the two who ll.ved to tell of the horribly sharp action with him. But Nan's common sense whispered to her, whatever might be said about Df Spain's starting the fight, that one man locked in a room with four enemies, all dangerous in an affray, was not iikeij 'to begin a fight unless forced to— none, at least, but a madman would do 80) ... APRIL 18, 1917. Unhappy and iyrcsoluto, Kan, when she got home, was glad of an excust to ride to Calalmsns for a packet of dressing coining by stage from Sleepy Cat for Gale, who lay wounded at Satt Morgan's; and, eating a hasty lunch eon, she ordered her horse and set out. Should she tell her Uncle Duke of finding De Spain? Whenever she de cided that she must, something in the recollection of De Spain's condition un settled her resolution. Talcs enough of his bloodthirstiness, his merciless efficiency, his ever-ready craft and con summate duplicity were familiar to her. Yet only a few of these stories appealed to Nan's innate convictions of truth and justice. She lived among men who were, for the most part, not truthful or dependable even In small things—how could thoy he relied on to tell the truth about De Spain's motives and conduct? As to his deadly skill with arms, no stories were needed to confirm this, even though she herself had once overcome him In a contest. The evidence of his mastery had now a fatal pre-eminence among the trage dies of the Spanish sinks. Where he lay he could, if he meditated revenge on her people, murder any of them, al most at will. To spare his life Imper iled to this extent theirs—but surely he lay not far from death by exhaus tion. And if he was not helped soon he would die. But who was to help him? Certainly none of his friends. If she told them they would try to reach him. That would mean an appalling—an unthink able—fight. All came back to one ter rifying alternative: Should she help this wretched man herself? And If he lived, would he repay her by shooting someone of her own kin? The long ride to Culabasas went fnst as the debate swept on, and the vivid shock of her strange experience re curred to her Imagination. She drew up before the big barn 'lni McAlpln was coining out to go tc •ipper. Nan asked for her package HI wanted to start directly back iin. McAlpLn refused absolutely tc hear of It. He looked nt her horse and professed to be shocked. He told her she hiul ridden hard, urged her to dis mount, and sent her pony in to be rubbed. While her horse was cared for, McAlpin asked. In his harmless Scotch way. about Gale. ♦Concerning (Inle, Nan was noncom mittal. But she listened with Interest, more or less veiled, to whatever run ning comment McAlpin had to ofTer concerning the Calabasas fight. "And I was sorry to see Gale mixed up In it," he concluded, In his effort to draw Nan out, "sorry. And sorrier to think of Henry de Spain getting killed that way. Some say," he suggested, look ing significantly toward the door of the barn, and sigpMeantly away again, "that Henry went down there to pick a fight with the boys. But," he asserted cryptically, "I happen to know that wasn't so." , "Then what did he go down there for?" demanded Ncn indignantly, but not warily. (To Be Continued) HERE ARE GARDEN CUTWORM CURES Poison-Bran Baits Effective; Arsenical Sprays For Ex treme Outbreaks Washington, D. C., April 18.—To matoes, cabbages, sweet potatoes, let tuce and other truck plants, especially those which started under glass and transplanted, are subject to serious injury by cutworms. These pests ap pear sometimes in great numbers in. the spring and early summer, and fre quently do severe injury before their ravages are noticed. Their method of attack is to cut oft the young plants at about, the surface of the ground, and as these caterpillars are of large size and voracious feeders, they are capable of destroying many plants in a single night—frequently more than they can devour. Every year theso insects, working generally throughout the United States, have destroyed hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of crops. By the timely appli cation of remedies, however, as has been demonstrated by entomologists of the United States Department of Agriculture, they readily can be con trolled, even over considerable areas. The usual method of control is by tho use of poisoned baits. How to Mix Take a bushel of dry bran, add ono pound of white arsenic or Paris green, and mix it thoroughly into mash with eight gallons of water in which, lias been stirred half a gallon of sor ghum or other cheap molasses. (Ar senic and Paris green are deadly poi sons. Handle them with great care.) This amount will be sufficient for the treatment of about four or ttve acres of cultivated crops. After the mash has stood for several hours, scatter it, in lumps about the size of a marble, over the fields where the injury ia beginning to appear and about tho bases of the plants set out. Apply late in the day, so as to place tho poison about the plants before night, which is the time when the cutworms are active. Apply a second time, if necessary. Keep children, live stock and chickens away from this bait. Cutworms Travel Like Army Worms When cutworms occur in unusual abundance, which happens locally, and sometimes generally, they ex haust their food supply and migrate to other fields. This they do literally in armies, assuming what is called tne army worm habit. At such times it is necessary to treat them the same as army worms. While the methods which have been advised are valuable in such cases, they may be too slow to destroy all the cutworms, and other methods must, be employed. These include trenching, ditching, the plow ing of deep furrows in advance of the traveling cutworms to trap them, and the dragging of logs or brush through the furrows. If the trenches can be filled with water, the addition of a small quantity of kerosene, so as to form a thin scum on the surface, will prove fatal to the cutworms. In ex treme oases barriers of fence boards are erected and the tops smeared with tar or other sticky substances to stop the cutworms as they attempt to crawl over. Spraying With Arscnlcals In extremely severe attacks by Cut worms on choice plants there is some times no opportunity to prepare the poisoned bait. In such cases an ar senate of lead spray will answer quite as well. In one instance a parsley field was sprayed with four pounds of arsenate of lead to fifty gallons ol' water; this killed all the cutworms, whereas if they had been left alone for a day or two longer the field prob ably would have been destroyed. Tho result was a perfect stand—the best ever made by the grower. In this case five applications were necessary. Cultural Methods Clean cultural methods and erop rotation are advisable, as are also fall plowing and disking, to prevent re currences of cutworm attacks. Many cutworms can be destroyed where it is possible to overflow the fields, particularly where irrigation is practiced. FLAGS FOK CHI'RCHES Columbia, Pa., April 18.—Patriotic services were held in two churches here on Sunday when flags were pre sented to each congregation. In the First English Lutheran church, four members. Grand Army veterans, ar ranged the presentation, and Dr. G. W. Berntheizel, one of the number, made the address. The Rev. Dr. E. G. Miller, the pastor, responded for the congregation. St. Paul's Episcopal church received a beautiful silk flag, the gift of H. M. North, Jr.. who also made the presentation address. It was received in behalf of the church by the rec tor, the Rev. G. F. G. Hoyt. DAILY DOT PUZZLE ( 28 27 H "'' • 31' > '24 ' \ .33 kv .. '-I. V*' *' ,2 ° t. • *' 9 ). .v Ml* 7
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