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;; FRANK H. SPEARMAN
i > Author of "WHISPERING SMITH" '
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♦♦♦♦♦♦
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
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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
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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