PI IBht A i* /o i W^7 i 1 ii 11 n °i \im. Keadiftfl fefWavugiv and all the Rmakj' jpfy ► Nan sf Music : Mountain i * * * ' 1 1 < ► < 1 ► 4 I 3 i; Br 3 ;; FRANK H. SPEARMAN i > Author of "WHISPERING SMITH" ' i i ♦♦♦♦♦♦ ICopjrljkt br Ckr' "Vnb'• Sonu (Continued.) CHAPTER XXVI. Puppet* of Fate. When Nan rode with He Spain into Sleepy Cat that morning:, Le fever had already told their story to Jeffries over the telephone from Calabasas. und Mrs. Jeffries had thrown open her house to receive Nan. Weary from exposure, confu sion and hunger; Nan was only too grateful for a refuge. One the evening of the second day De Spain was invited to join the family at supper. In the evening the Jeffrieses went down town. De Spain was talking with Nan in (he living room when the telephone bell rang In the library. De Spain took the call, and a man's voice answered his salutation. The speaker asked for Mr. De Spain and seemed particular to make sure of liis identity. "This," repeated De Spain more than once, and somewhat testily, "is Henry De Spain speaking." "I'd like to have a little talk with you, Mr. De Spain." "Who are you?" The vein of sharpness in the ques tion met with no deviation from the slow, even tone of the voice at the other end of the wire. "I am not in position to give you my name," came the answer, "at least not over the wire." A vague impression suddenly crossed De Spain's mind that some where he had heard the voice be fore. "Do you supose I could come up to where you are to-night for a few minutes' talk?" continued the man cooly. "Not unless you have something very important." "What 1 have is more important to you than to me." De Spain took an instant to de cide. "All right," he said impatient ly; "come along. Only—" he paused to let the words sink in, " —if this is a game you're springing—" "I'm springing no game," re turned the man evenly. "Come along, then. I'll tell you Just how to get here. Do you hear?" "I'm listening." "Leave Main street at Rancherio •treet. Follow Rancherio north four blocks, turn west into Grant avenue. Mr. JefTeries' house is on the cor ner." "I'll And it." "Don't come any other way. If you o. you won't se me." "I'm not afraid of you, Mr. De Spain, and I'll come as you say. There's only one thing I should like Daily Dot Puzzle it i g rn . 2o 19 * y .3 . <2 *25 ' A *9 a +2b to I *• . x * '*7 •3o S * ' 5 y 3 ' S3 ' 4. ♦t = jsl == ===a •51 •37 u -38 •5o 7 • 4o J* 4e *4- <*2 4 J • ' * 7 .44, .45 ' PETEY DlNK—They Had Lots of' Leading Men" in That Film ... ... m . m By C. A. VOIGHT I'UESDAY EVENING, THE NEBBY NEIGHBORS They Live Here in Harrisburg B w ■ r f f" 1 " 7~1 XMAOfiYA WANT I N) ii r - , H ttfrlWl ANYWAY ™ J / \ AHA.CHUW: • • rr^rfi v j #Bl -miuht ikwant f*. , / KKii Hf ;."E.rrs 1,4 jjC Ktej mKM ! I / DiNNtc —IHIMW'T/ IpS ! - w s? ign 1 -V~ _ I v aVr !/ to ask. It would be as much as my life is worth to be seen talking to you. And there are other good rea sons why 1 shouldn't like to have it known 1 had talked to you. Would you mind putting out the lights be fore I come up—l mean, in the front of the house and in the room where we talk?" "Not in the least. I mean—l am always willing to take a chance against any other man's. But I warn you, come prepared to take care of yourself." "If you will do as I ask. no harm kill come to anyone." De Spain heard the receiver hung up at the other end of the wire. He signaled the operator hastily and got hold of Bob Scott. To him he ex plained rapidly what had occurred, and what he wanted. "Get up to Grant and Rancherio, Bob, as quick as the Lord will let you. Come by the back streets. There's a high mul berry hedge at the southwest corner you can get behind. This chap may have been talking for somebody else. Anyway, look the man over when he passes under the arc light. If it is Sassoon or Gale Morgan, come into Jeffries' house by the rear door. Wait in the kitchen for my call from the living room or a shot. I'll arrange for your getting in." Leaving the telephone, De Spain rejoined in Nan in the living room. He told her briefly of the expected visit and explained, laughingly, that his caller had asked to have the lights out and to see him alone. He made so little of the incident that Nan walked up the stairs on De Spain's arm reassured. When he kissed her at her room door and turned down the stairs again, she leaned in the half light over the bannister, waving one hand at him and murmured the last caution: "Be careful, Henry, won't you?" "Dearie, I'm always careful." " 'Cause you're all I've got now," she whispered. "You're all I've got. Nan, girl." "1 haven't got any home—or any thing—just you. Don't go to the door yourself. Leave the front door open. Stand behind the end of the piano till you are awfully sure who it is." "What a head, Nan!" De Spain cut off the lights, threw open the front door, and in the dark ness sat down on the piano stool. A heavy step on the porch, a little while later, was followed by a knock on the open door. "Come in!" called De Spain rough ly. The bulk of a large man filled and obscured for an instant the opening, then the visitor stepped carefully over the threshold. "What do you want?" asked De Spain with out changing his tone. He waited with keenness the sound of the an | swer. "Is Henry De Spain here?" The voice was not familiar to De Spain's ear. He told himself the man was unknown to liim. "II am Henry De Spain." he returned without hesi tation. "What do you want?" The visitor's deliberation was re flected in his meusured speaking. "I am from Thief River," he began, and his reverberating voice was low and distinct. "I was sent in to Morgan's Gap some time ago to find out who burned the Calabasas barn." "And you report to —?" "Kennedy." De Spain paused. A fresh convic tion had flashed across his mind. "You called me up on the telephone one night last week," he said sud denly. The answer came without evasion, "I did." "You gave me a message from Nan Morgan that she never gave you ?" "I did. T thought she needed you right off. She didn't know me as I rightly am. I knew what was going on. 1 rode into town that evening and rode out again. It was not my business, and I couldn't let it inter fere with the business I'm paid to look after. That's the reason I dodged you." "There is a chair at the left of the door: sit down. What's your name?" The man feeling around .slowly, deposited his angular bulk with care upon the little chair. "My name"— in tlie tenseness of the dark the words seemed to carry added mys tery—"is Pardaloe." "You've got a brother—Joe Par daloe?" suggested De Spain to trap him. "No, I've got no brother. 1 am just plain Jim Pardaloe." "Say what you have got to say, Jim." "The only job 1 could get in the gap was with old Duke Morgan— I've been working for him, oiT and on. and spending the rest of my time with Gale and Dave Sassoon. There were three men in the barn burning. Dave Sassoon put up the job." "Where is Dave Sassoon now?" "Dead." Both men were silent for a mo ment. "Yesterday morning's fight?" asked De Spain reluctantly. "Yes, sir." • "How did he happen to catch us on El Oapitan?" "Me saw a fire on Music mountain and watched the lower end of the gap all night. Sassoon was a wide awake man." "Well. I'm sorry, Pardaloe," con tinued De Spain after a moment. "Nobody could call it my fault. It was either he or I —or the life of a woman who never harmed a hair of his head, and a woman I'm bound to protect. He was running when he was hit. If he had got to cover again there was nothing to stop him from picking both of us off." "He was hit in the head." De Spain was silent. "It was a soft-nose bullet," con tinued Paradaloe. Again there was a pause. "I'll tell you about that, too, Pardaloe," De Spain went on collectedly. "I lost my rifle before that man opened tire on us. Nan happened to have her rifle with her—if she hadn't, he'd have dropped one or both of us off El Capitan. We were pinned against the wall like a couple of targets. If there were soft-jose bullets in her rifle it's because she uses them on game—bobcats and mountain lions. I never thought of it till this minute. That is it." "What I came up to tell you has to do with Dave Sassoon. From what happened to-day in the gap I thought you ought to know it now. Gale and Duke quarreled yesterday over the way things turned out; they were pretty bitter. This afternoon Gale took it up again with his uncle, and it ended in Duke's driving him clean out of the gap." "Where has he gone?" "Nobody knows yet. Ed Wickwire told me once that your father was shot from ambush a good many years ago. It was north of Medicine Bend, on a ranch near the Peace river; that you never found out who killed him, and that one reason why you came up into this country was to keep an eye out for a clue." "What aljput it?" asked De Spain, his tone hardening. "I was riding home one night about a month ago from Calabasas with bassoon. He'd been drinking. 1 let him do the talking. He began cussing you out, and talked pretty hard about what you'd done, and what he'd done, and what he was go ing to do—" Nothing, it seemed, would hurry the story. "Finally, Sas soon says: 'That hound don't know yet who got his dad. It was Duke Morgan; that's who got him. I was with Duke when he turned the trick. We rode down to De Spain's ranch one night to look up a rustler.' That," concluded Pardaloe, "was all Sassoon would say." He stopped. He seemed to wait. There was no word or answer, none of comment from the man sitting near him. But, for one, at least, who heard the passionless, monotonous recital of a murder of the long ago, there followed a silence as relentless as fate, a silence shrouded in the mys tery of the darkness and striking des- HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH The Honeymoon House By HAZEL DALE ■■ "I never intended to go," Jarvis announced laughingly when Janet' finally released him. "you made ne ashamed of my feelings when you suggested such a thing. Anyway, 1 didn't want to go off alone, not just now." And then Jarvis. the first few j minutes of Janet's surprise over, j turned to Mr. Lowry, who stood hat i in hand just beyond the little circle, j "How do you do," he said holding j out his Hand to the older man. I "Glad to see you. Did Janet run i into you on the way home?" "Ye 3, in the subway," Janet said j easily, not thinking for the moment I how suspicious her entrance accom- < panied by Mr. I>owry looked. "Yes. and she thought 1 wouldn't; take her up when she told me that 1 she lived on the top floor," said Mr. \ Lowry easily. He was man of the world enough to ignore the situa- i tion entirely, although the whole affair was unpleasantly unlike a coincidence. . The little group of four was very intense for a moment. Neva had drawn away after Janet had first spoken to her and was now stand ing in the back ground, and Janet stood in the center with the two men, one on either side. She was the one who lifted the tension. Her con science was too clear for her to as sume a guilt that wasn't hers, and she said laughingly. "Well, how do you like our place, Mr. Lowrx, we call it the Honeymoon House." * "I like it," the man returned quickly, "and now that I have seen it, I must really be getting home. If you would like to drop in at my of fice some day soon, Mrs. Moore," he ended finally, "I'd be glad to see that story that we were talking about." "I'd be glad to bring it in if you think you can use it," Janet return ed promptly, and the next minute Mr. Lowry had gone and Janet again turned to Jarvis. "It did look peculiar, didn't It boy?" she said gravely. Jarvis laughed a little uncomfort ably. "Yes, in all the novels, the situa tion would liftve been serious," put in Neva bluntly, and speaking defi nitely for the first time. "Wife gets rid of husband, sees him off on train, finds wife with ) handsome stranger, tableau!" Neva said this so seriously with I no smile on her magic features that 1 Janet burst into laughter. "That's all right for a scene from a novel or a pluy, but it's different with us. Jarvis knows me too well, and besides what about you two? I could give a scene from a novel, my self. How's this? Trusting wife, un pair into two hearts—a silence more fearful than any word. Pardaloe shuffled his feet. He. coughed, but he evoked no response. "I thought you was entitled to know," he said finally. "Now that Saesoon will never talk any more." De Spain moistened his lips. When he spoke his voice was cracked and harsh as if with what he had heard he had suddenly grown old. "You are right, Pardaloe. I thank you. I —when I —ln the morning. Pardaloe. for the present, go back to the gap. I will talk with Wickwire — to-morrow. "Good night, Mr. De Spain." "Good night, Pardaloe." Bending forward limp, in his chair, supporting his head vacantly on his hands, trying to think and fearing to think, De Spain heard Pardaloe's measured tread on the descending steps, and listened mechanically to able to get rid of pursuing villain, ar ! rives at apartments and linds hus band In conclave with beautiful model, tableau." "Well, we're just as innocent as i you.are," Neva returned practically, \ "why 1 would't look at Jarvis, he's j nothing but an Infant. 1 want an ! older man, dark and thrilling, some- I think like your Mr. Lowry. Janet | can't you fix it up?" By this time everyone was laugh ing and talking at once, but Janet I avoirled Jarvis' eyes. The harried j little feeling was there, that per i haps he had been suspicious. It did 1 look queer, but Jarvis knew how she I felt about Mr. Lowry. "I don't know anything about him really, Neva." she was saying bright ly, talking from her bedroom where she was removing her things. "Jar vis met him first, and introduced him !to me. 1 have been trying to sell him some of my stories. He's the j editor of the Children's Hour, and a couple of other magazines." . "And he is very much taken with you," Neva said quickly, "I could see that." "O nonsense," Janet returned. "Well, tell us about meeting him. I know Jarvis is dying to know, and doesn't want to ask for fear y<ju will call 1 1m a typical I.usband." Janet shivered a little. "I can't realize yet how you happened .to do It, Jarvis," she said turning bright eyes upon him. "You see I was fool ish and didn't make any arrange ments for myself. I thought Grace Merrick would take me in anytime, but she is away. I had told Liza to go away for the week-end, and I thought of asking Karen to come up and stay with me. Karen wasn't home either, and I was coming back from her place, when 1 met Mr. Lowry." "And you were coming up to this apartment with him alone?" Jarvis said quickly. i "But dear, 1 can take care of my self, and I hope Mr. Lowry is a gentleman, not a villain In a play." Jarvis spoke for the first time, and his manner of speaking told of the depth of his feelings. He had not realized before that Janet had taken a real risk. "It was foolhardy," he said pas sionately, a line of white appearing 1 around his mouth. "I don't care j who or what Lowry is. he's a man, I and to bring him up here at night j when you knew no one would be j here, was more than dangerous. O I know you're free, dearest, and a modern woman and all the rest of it, but the fact still remains that you are a woman, and can't take the same risks that men can after all." To Be Continued. the retreating echoes of his footsteps down the shaded street. Minute after . minute passed. De Spain made no move. A step so light that it could only have been the step of a delicate girlhood, a step free as the footfall of youth, poised as the tread of wom anhood and beauty, came down the stairs. Slight as she was, and silent as he was, she walked straight to him in the darkness, and, sinking between his feet wound her hands through his two arms. "I heard everything, Henry," she murmured, looking up, An involuntary start of protest was his only response. "I was afraid of a plot against you. I stayed at the head of the stairs. Henry. I told you long ago some dreadful thing would comi between us—something not our fault And now it comes to dash our cup o: happiness when It is filling." She stopped, hoping perhaps h< would say some little word, that h< HOW DOES YOUR GARDEN GROW | Sumucl Armstrong Hamilton i Doubtless many of my readers! have i ntheir homes boxes, "pots or cans filled with growing young plants j which they have been anxiously I watching since they planted the send ! some time back, in expectation of i the time when they can be set out | in the open ground to gy'ow on and | mature crops of vegetables for their j home tables." This growing of young i plants is one of the great pleasures of gardening—"the joy of seeing things grow." Some of the information you need at this juncture was given in the article on plants lately published j in this department. While the trans- I planting of these young plants can- ] nob be done to any great extent for j some time, it Is well for you to have 1 the Information at hand, so that you can study it and have It available I against that day when it conies. The | quick and sure handling of young j plants marks the expert gardener, which, I hope, all of you will be come. Just about this time some of the young plants growing in the boxes or "flats" will be getting crowded, and it is a good practice to transplant the surplus ones to other flats or pots for two reasons. It is well not to crowd young plants which arc not grown for their tops, and it does some kinds a lot of good to trans plant them to compel them to grow a larger mass of fibrous roots than they otherwise would. You have doubtless noticed that when you break off the end of a vine or plant itwill throw out a num ber of branches to replace the one removed. The roots of young plants act In a similar way when you take them up. In the process of remov ing them many of the fibrous rotts are broken off, and in place of these the plant throws out many more. The larger the mass of fibrous roots a plant has (such plants as we are now considering), the better it will be nourished and the better the crop should be. This appties to such plants as cab bage, tomatoes, peppers, celery and many other, which are commonly transplanted into the garden beds, j But you are not to understand that | you shall put them out of the dry soil in order to t'ear off as much of the original roots as possible. With the ordinary care involved in taking them up with a table fork, trowel or dibble, you are sure - to tear off enough without any particular effort to do so. So it is better to use some care in this respect or the plants may be ruined. Tlic Correct Method When transplanting from one flat or a pot to another flat set them side by side. Have the soil in the flat in which the plants are growing wet, while that in the one to which would even pat her head, or press her hand, but he sat like-one stun ned. "If it could have been anything but this!" she pleaded, low and sor rowful. "Oh, why did you not listen to me before we were engulfed! My dear Henry! You who've given me ail the happiness I have ever had—that the blood of niy own should come against you and yours!" The emotion she struggled with and fought back with all the strength of her nature, rose in a resistless tide that swept her on, in the face of his ominous silence, to despair. Her breath, no longer controlled, came brokenly and her voice trembled. "You have been very kind to me, Henry—you've been the only man I've ever known that always, every where, thought of me first. I told you I didn't deserve it, 1 wasn't worthy of it—" (To Be Continue.) MAY 8, 1917. they are to transferred may be dry if made lino and loose. One and the common way is to make a hole with the small dibble in the dry soil, lift out a plant with tho fork and set. it in, pressing It close with the dibble. A better way is to scoop out with a table or kitchen spoon, at 4-inch intervals, a spoonful of the soil in the dry Mat. Mft out a plant with the fork, retaining the ball of soil about the roots as much as possible, set it in th? depression made with the spoon, press down gently and arrange the so.l about it, and when tho flat is tilled water gently and settle the soil abo it all the plants in this way. This wil' leave the roots remaining on the young plants in relatively their former positions and growth be uninterrupted. If you transplanted young toma to plants from flats into 2-inch pots in March, look at them now to see if they need to be shifted into 3 or 4 inch ones. They are ready to be shifted when they are "pot-bound" in the 2-inch pots. By pot-bound is meant when the pots are filled with roots and they have formed a white mass all over the ball of soil in the pots. To ascertain if this be the case, takethe pot in the left hand, place the right over it with the plant be tween the fingers, turn upside down and strike the edge of the pot a firm blow (not too hard) on the edge of a board or table and the plant, ball of soil and all, will come out into the right hand, when the roots can be examined. . If transplanting is needed, put a piece of broken pot or flat stone over the drainage hole in the bottom of a Fashions of To-Day - By May Manton 4-inch one, put In an inch of soil, set in the plant from the 2-inch pot, ill 1 line soil around it nearly ful and water gently to scttlo the soil. When all are thus finished off, go over them and reliii with soil to tho top, water again and allow to settle. Putting Young Plants Outdoors 1-ater on there will be plants to set out in the garden from the seed bed, whioh I liope most of you made. Some of these will be transplanted from the small pots, while others will go out from the flats in which they were planted from the seed. Use tlie same care in handling these as when transplanting from one flat, or pot, to another for the same rea sons. There is a feeling abroad among the people that it is not feasible t transplant into the open except on a rainy clay, or. at least, just after a . rain. This is not the case with plants grown in small pots or those trans planted twice into flats if they are properly handled. But they should not be set into dry soil; it is always possible to wet it. and they should he shaded for a day or two against tho late afternoon sun. If the opera tion is neatly done the plants will not feel that they have been moved. However, plants which have been growing in a greenhouse or in a room in the home will keenly feel the effects of a strong wind. Many persons seeing a rain approaching liave hurriedly set out young plants. The rain was accompanied by high wind and many of the plants were ruined. Aim to keep your young plants short and stocky by giving them plenty of room, light and air. A. good garden loam will do for trans planting young plants in, but it wilt be well to give it a dusting 'f lime ' and bone meal, if these have not been added to the soil within a year. THERE is something very attractive about the Turk ish skirt worn by a young girl and this frock is just as pretty as it can be, adapted to the afternoon dance or to the afternoon tea or to any occasion of such sort. Here, it is made of a soft lustrous taffeta with lace, but you could, of course, copy it in any material that yon like, or, if you want an evening frock you can make the sleeves short. To produce the panel effect, the skirt is pushed back over the lining and the flounces are arranged over the latter, but if you prefer you can make the plain gathered skirt. For the 16-year size the bodice will require, \}4, yards of taf feta 36 inches wide and yards of lace flouncing 07 inches wide to make as illus trated. For the skirt will be needed, 4} 4 yards 36 inches iride with % yard of flouncing 15 and Yz yard 26 inches wide. Both the blouse pattern No. 9401 and the skirt No. 9399 are cut in sizes for 16 and 18 years. They will be mailed to any ad dress by the Fashion Depart ment ot this paper, on receipt of fifteen cents for each. 11
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