Nan gf
Music |
| Mountain j
: By* l!
► FRANK H. SPEARMAN J
K Author of "-WHISPERING SMITH ' ,
ICopjrljbt bj ChAT CB bcilbMl'a Suul
(Continued.)
De Spain urging his horse forward,
unbuckled his rifle holster, threw
away the scabbard, and holding the '
weapon up in one hand, fired shot'
after shot at measured intervals to
attract the attention of the two he j
sought. He exhausted his rifle am-1
munition without eliciting any an
swer. The wind drove with a roar
against which even a rifle report
could hardly carry, and the snow j
swept down the sinks in a mad blast. |
Flakes torn by the fury of the gale j
were stiffened by the bitter wind i
into powdered ice that stung horse
and rider. Casting away the useless
carbine, and pressing his horse to the
limit of her strength and endurance,
the unyielding pursuer rode In great,
coiling circles Into the storm, to cut
In, if possible, ahead of its victims,
firing shot upon shot from his re\ol
ver and putting his ear intently
against the wind for the faint hope
of an answer.
Suddenly the Lady stumbled and,
as he cruelly reined her. slid help
less and scrambling along the face
of a flat rock. De Spain, leaping from
her back, steadied her trembling
and looked underfoot. The mare had
struck the rock of the upper lava
bad. Drawing his revolver, he fired
signal shots from where he stood. It
could not be far, he knew, from the
junction of the two great desert
trails—the Calabasas road and the
gap road. He felt sure Xan could not
have got much north of this, for he
had ridden in desperation to get
abreast of or beyond her, and if she
were south, where, he asked, in the
name of God, could she be?
He climbed again into the saddle
—the cold was gripping his limbs—
and, watching the rocky landmarks
narrowly tried to circle the dead
waste of the half-buried flow. With
chilled, awkward fingers he iiTled the
revolver again and rode on. dis
charging it every minute, and listen
ing—hoping against hope for an an
swer. It was when he had almost
completed, as well as he could com
pute, the wide circuit he had set
out on, that a faint shot answered
his continuing signals.
With the sound of that shot and
those that followed it his courage
Fashions of To-Day - By May Manton
>
t'-p'HERE seems no limit to
• I the variations of the barrel
skirt and here is one of the
prettiest. The front and back
of the skirt are plain and form
box plaits, but the sides are cut
in sections and the joining of
these sections produce the barrel
effect. The blouse is a quite
\ simple one with full fronts and
• plain back and here the edges
j are trimmed with banding, but
■J they are all straight and they
can be scalloped or embroid
ered with great success, or you
can hem them and finish with a
little drawn work, for every form
of needlework is exceedingly
fashionable this season.
For the medium size the
blouse will require, 2J 4 yards
of material 36 inches wide with
3 yards of banding. For the
skirt will be needed, 5Y2 yards
of material 36 inches wide with
k 13i yards of banding.
j The blouse pattern No. 9405
A is cut in sizes from 36 to 46
I inches bust measure and the
II skirt pattern No. 9408 in sizes
L from 24 to 34 inches waist meas
ure. Thev will be mailed to any
9405 Blouse with straight Edges. 36 ac ]dress by the Fashion Depart-
Prfce 4 | s nk "jen* of this PP cr - °" recei P*
0408 Barrel Skirt, 24 to 34 Waist. of fifteen cents lor each.
Price 15 cents.
bringing Up Father Copyright, 1917, International News Service By M
I m TMOIM LESSONS I ITI ■HELLO -OOCTQB • | 800-HOO* I j DON'T L fa IQ I
SATURDAY EVENING,
THE NEBB Y NEIGHBORS They Live Here in Harrisburg By Sullivan
1 THTOW STORES I fj- f—. . wtl , ITT 1 I —AN I HOED tut O
(vcN,HEv —ahoL i 1 1 Jl-f3 \ "iTT „ < ** • swcen—shii©> - • •
— got A]
fZ jm \ —'li /" ; ' S TUB IS SONCWWI 100 IN tIFMHTIC ' ? ?
__ - ~^||Pk
all came back. But he had yet to i
trace through the confusion of the
wind and the blinding snow the di- |
rection of the answering reports.
Hither and thither he rode, this
way and that, testing out the loca- I
tion of the slowly repeated shots, and
signaling at intervals in return. Slow
ly and doggedly he kept on, shooting,
listening, wheeling and advancing
until, as he raised his revolver to tire
it again, a cry close at hand came out
of the storm. It was a woman's voice
borne on the wind. Riding swiftly to
the left, a horse's outline revealed
itself at moments in the driving snow
ahead.
De Spain cried out, and from be
hind the furious curtain heard his
name, loudly called. He pushed his
stumbling horse on. The dim outline
of a second horse, the background of
a wagon, a storm-beaten man—all
this passed his eyes unheeded. They
were bent on a girlish figure running
toward his as he slid sty from
the saddle. The next instant Nan
was in his arms.
CHAITKR XXIX
Tlie Truth.
With the desperation of a joy born
of despair she laid her burning cheek
hysterically against his cheek. She
rained kisses on his ice-crusted brows
and snow-beaten eyes. Her arms held
him rigidly. He could not move nor
speak till she would let him. Trans
formed, this mountain girl who gave
herself so shyly, forgot everything.
Her words crowded on his ears. She
repeated his name in an ecstasy of
welcome, drew down his lips, laughed,
rejoiced, knew no shamefaccdness
and no restraint—she was one freed
from the stroke of a descending
knife. A moment before she had j
faced death alone; it was still death
she faced—she realized this—but it
was death, at least, together, and her
Joy and tears rose from her heart in
one stream.
De Spain comforted her, quieted
her, cut away one of the coats from
his horse, slipped it over her should
ers, incased her in the heavy fur, and
turned his eyes to Duke.
The old man's set, square face sur
rendered nothing of implacability to
the dangers confronting him. De
Spain looked for none of that. He
had known the Morgan record too
long, and faced the Morgan men too
often, to fancy they would flinch at
I the drum-beat of death,
j The two men, in the deadly, driving
| snow, eyed each other. Out of the old
man's deep-set eyes burned the re
| sistance of a hundred storms faced
! before. But he was caught now like
I a wolf in a trap, and he knew he had
| little to hope for. little to fear. As
j De Spain regarded him. something
! like pity may have mixed with his
hatred. The old outlaw was thinly
| clad. His open throat was beaten
j with snow, and, standing beside the
wagon, he held the team reins in a
bare hand. De Spain cut the other
I coat from his saddle and held it out.
Duke pretended not to see, and, when
j not longer equal to keeping up the
j pretense, shook his head.
I "Take it," said De Spain curtly.
| "No."
"Take it, I say. Tou and I will set
tle our affairs when we get Nan out
of this," he insisted.
"De Spain!" Duke's voice, as was
its wont, cracked like a pistol. "I
can say all I've got to say to you right
here."
"No."
"Yes," cried the old man.
"Listen, Henry," pleaded Nan,
seeking shelter from the furious
blast within his arms, "just for a
! moment listen!"
"Not now, I tell you!" cried De
Spain.
"He was coming. Henry, all the
1 way—and he is sick—just to say it
1 to you. Let him say it here, now."
| "Go on!" cried De Spain roughly.
"Say it."
"I'm not afraid of you, De Spain!"
1 shouted the old man. his neck bared
j to the flying ice. "Don't think it!
! You're a better man than I am, bet-
I ter than I ever was —don't think I
I don't know that. But I'm not afraid
|of e'er a man I faced, De Spain;
I they'll tell you that when I'm dead,
i All the trouble that ever come 'tween
I you and me come by an accident —
i come before you was born, and come
j through Dave Sassoon, and he's held
' it over me ever since you come up
j into this country. I was a young fel
low. Sassoon worked for my father.
The cattle and sheep war was on,
1 north of Medicine Bend. The Peace
! river sheepmen raided our place—
' your father was with them. He never
j did us no harm, but my brother. Bay
I Morgan, was shot in that raid by a
I man name of Jennings. I started out
to get the man that shot him. Sas
-1 soon trailed him to the Bar M, the
■ old De Spain ranch, working for
! your father."
| The words fell fast and in a fury,
j They came as if they had been chok
ed back till they strangled. "Sassoon
I took me over there. Toward night we
got in sight of the ranchhouse. We
: saw a man down at the corral.
'That's Jennings," Sassoon says. 1
never had laid eyes on him before—
I never laid eyes on your father be
fore. Both of us fired. Next day we
heard your father was killed, and
Jennings had left the country. Sas
soon or I, one of us, killed your fath
er, De Spain. If it was I, I did it
never knowing who he was, never
meaning to touch him. I was after
the man that killed my brother. Sas
! soon didn't care which it was, never
did, then nor never. But he held it
I over me to make trouble sometime
HARRISBURG tSSSI TELEGRAPH
'twixt you and me. I was a young fel
low. I thought I was revenging my
brother. And if your father was
killed by a patched bullet, his blood
is not on me, De Spain, and never
was. Sassoon always shot a patched
bullet. I never shot one in my life.
And I'd never told you this of my
own self. Nan said it was the whole
truth from me to you, or her life.
She's as much mine as she ip yours.
I nursed her. I took care of her
when there weren't no other living
soul to do it. She got me and herself
out into this, this morning. I'd never
been caught like this if I'd hail my
way. I told her 'fore we'd been out
an hour we'd never see the end of it.
She said she'd rather die in it than
you'd think she quit you. I told her
I'd go on with her and do as she said
—that's why we're here, and that's
the whole truth, so help me God:
"I ain't afraid of ybu, De Spain.
I'll give you whatever you think's
coming to you with a rifle or a gun
any time, anywhere—you're a better
man than I am or ever was, I know
that —and that ought to satisfy you.
Or, I'll stand my trial, if you say so,
and tell the truth."
The ice-laden wind, as De Spain
stood still, swept past the little group
with a sinister roar, insensible alike
to its emotions and its deadly peril.
Within the shelter of his arms he felt
the yielding form of the indomitable
girl who, by the power of love, had
wrung from the outlaw his reluctant
story—the story of the murder that
had s'talned with Its red strands the
relations of each of their lives to
both the others. He felt against his
heart the faint trembling of her frail
body. So, when a boy, he had held
in his hand a fluttering bird and felt
the whirring beat of its frightened
heart against his strong, cruel fing
ers.
A sudden aversion to more blood
shed, a sickening of vengeance, swept
over him as her heart mutely beat
for mercy against his heart. She had
done more than any man could do.
Now she waited on him. Both his
arms wrapped round her. In the
breathless embrace that drew her
closer she read her answer from him.
She looked up Into his eyes and wait
ed. "There's more than what's be
tween you and me, Duke, facing us
now," said De Spain sternly, when he
turned. "We've got to get Nan out of
this—even If we don't get out our
selves. Where do you figure we
are?" he cried.
"I figure we're two miles north of
the lava beds, De Spain," shouted
Morgan.
De Spain shook his head in dis
sent. "Then where are we?" demand
ed the older man rudely.
"I ought not to say, against you.
But if I've got to guess, I say two
miles east. Either way, we must try
for Sleepy Cat. Is your team all
right?"
"Team is all right. We tore a
wheel near off getting out of the
lava. The wagon's done for."
De Spain threw the fur coat at
him. "Put it on," he said. "We'll look
at the wheel."
They tried together to wrench it
into shape, but worked without avail.
In the end they lashed it, put Nan
on the Lady, and walked behind
while the team pushed Into the piti
less wind. Morgan wanted to cut the
wagon away and take to the horses,
but De Spain said, not till they found
a trail or the stage road.
So much snow had fallen that in
spite of the blizzard, driving with an
unrelenting fury, the drifts were
deepening, packing and making all
effort Increasingly difficult. It was
well-nigh Impossible to head the
horses into the storm, and De Spain
looked with ever more anxious eyes
at Nan. After half an hour's super
human struggle to regain a trail that
should restore their bearings, they
halted, and De Spain riding up to the
wagon spoke to Morgan, who was
"THEIR MARRIED LIFE"
\' Copyright by International News Service
1
But, Warren, I really don't, want
to go a bit."
"Of course you don't, said War
ren testily. "You've forgotten al
ready, however, that I did something
I didn't want to do a bit the other
day when you asked It as a favor."
Helen flushed. She had forgotten
what a dear Warren had been when
he had filled in at her card party.
And she said then that she would
remember his goodness forever.
"Oh, dear, I had forgotten for a
moment," she said penitently, "for
give me, won't you, and let me make
it up to you?"
"No, I don't know as I want you
to be martyr. If I thought you
would go and act like an injured
martyr the entire evening I wouldn't
go a step."
"But I won't do that. Warren;
just give me a chance."
The argument had arisen concern
ing a play. Once in a while Warren
delighted in a musical comedy. It
was only once in so often, but when
he had a desire to go nothing that
Helen could say to the contrary
would make the slightest difference.
Helen disliked light opera intensely.
She endured it once in a while, but
she considered the money thrown
away.
Warren had come home filled to
the brim with the idea that the new
est one was a peach and had sug
gested that they take It in. Helen
was so fond of the theater that she
hated to have Warren spend moruey
on a performance she considered
worthless when there were so many
good plays she wanted to see. Con
sequently she had suggested, as she
thought tactfully, that they see the
neweet melodrama.
"Talk about clap-trap stuff," War
ren had said scornfully, "it's not fit
for a decent woman to witness.
"Now, Warren, you know that's
not true."
"It is true."
"As compared with the thing you
suggested, it has all kinds of bal
last."
"Ballast, yes, but what kind? If
Winifred were at a susceptible age,
you would disapprove thoroughly."
"Perhaps I should," Helen admit
ted, "but anyway, the usual musical
comedy is no better for a young girl.
But let's stop arguing. Warren. 1
really do want to go, and if you'll
take me I'll promise to be good all
evening."
Warren was really too anxious to
go himself not to taken Helen at her
word and they proceeded to make
ready. Helen had heard nothing at
all about the play. She cared noth
ing at all about It anyway, as she
was simply going to please Warren,
and she was almost certain of what
it would consist.
Warren bought the seats at the
driving: "How long is this going to
last?"
"All day and all night." Nan lean
!ed closely over to hear the curt
[ question and answer. Neither man
spoke again for a moment.
"We'll have to have help," said
De Spain after a pause.
I "Help?" echoed Morgan scornful
j ly. "Where's help coming from?"
De Spain's answer was not hur
ried. "One of us must go after it."
Nan looked at him intently.
Dwke set his hard jaw against the
hurtling stream of ice that showered
on the forlorn party. "I'll go for
it," he snapped.
"No," returned De Spain. "Better
for me to go."
"Go together," said Nan.
De Spain shook his head. Duke
• box office, and paid more than he
usually did, too, which fact he care
| fully concealed from Helen. Now
| that he had obtained his own way
ihe was disposed to be jovial, and
I Helen responded nobly. After all. It
was fun to come to the theater, no
I matter what they saw. The people
were always Interesting to watch,
and Helen trusted to luck that the
play would not bore her too much.
The lights went out finally, and
i the curtain went up. The scene was
I really charming and Helen' in spite
)of herself felt a thrill of interest,
i As the play proceeded she discovered
| that there was more to the plot than
; was usual with the musical come
| dies, the acting was good and the
humor refreshing. Besides, the mu
; sic was really lovely and when the
. curtain went down on the first act
I Helen turned to Warren inipulstve
[ ly and said:
j "Isn't it good, dear? I never re
| member seeing a play of this kind
that I have liked more." And then
! followed a quick perusing of the pro
gram, followed by a short and brisk
controversy on the principles, in
which Warren responded interested
ly. They talked and laughed as they
seldom did, and when the curtain
rose on the second act Helen felt
somehow like she did when Warren
used to take her about before they
were married. She realized just what
bad habits they had fallen into, not
just she and Warren but almost ev
ery married couple she knew went
to the theater together and sat ab
solutely dumb through the waits.
To-night had been so different, she
wondered why things couldn't be this
way always.
The play, which was in two acts,
came to a really successful finish.
I Helen laughed and applauded gayly,
I and when they rose to go she smiled
I up Into Warren's face sweetly. Helen
was looking her best and her face
was wreathed in smiles. Warren re
turned her look with one as nearly
responsive and Helen felt herself
actually bUishlng.
"Shall we go out for a bite to eat
somewhere?" Warren asked casu
ally.
Generally' Helen vetoed this ques
tion. but to-night she responded in
stantly and even suggested a place.
Warren looked surprised, and when
they were out of the theatre crush he
turned to her suddenly.
"I don't know how much you've
rafilly enjoyed the play," he said
abruptly, "but I want to tell you
that you've been a good little sport
to-night. How about taking In that
melodrama you spoke of to-morrow
night?" And then he grinned sheep
ishly as Helen gave his arm a sud
den squeeze.
. . (Watcli for the next installment of
this interesting; series).
1 Morgan, too, said that only one
| should go; the other must stay. De
! Spain, while the storm rattled and
j shook at the two men, told why he
I should go himself. "It's not claiming
you are nit entitled to say who
should go, Duke," he said evenly.
"Nor that our men, anywhere you
reach, wouldn't give you the same
attention they would me. And It
isn't saying that you're not the better
| man for the job—you've traveled the
! sinks longer than I have. But be
tween you and me, Duke, it's twen
| ty-eight years against fifty. I ought
to hold out a while longer, that's all.
Let's work further to the east."
(To Be Continued)
MAY 12, 1917.
FEMININE DRONE
IS FAST PASSING
Now Being Recognized as
Weed; No Place For
Her
By MRS. WILSON* WOODROW
The day of the feminine dron.e is
passing—is passed.
She never had very deep root in
our soil, but now she is being recog
nized as a weed and uprooted from
our gardens. There is no place for
her in this big, different world which
has changed so fast and so entirely.
Only a few years ago it was not
good form to be serious. Socially,
your business was to add to the
gayety of nations. Now it shows the
worst possible taste to be flippant
an<? frivolous.
To-day in every country on the
globe vour business, socially and
economically and humanly, is to
conserve the material resources of
your land and maintain its spiritual
ideals.
We Americans possess a splendid
heritage, the most lofty ideal that
the mind of a race lias ever con
ceived—democracy. The determina
[ tion that "Government of the peo
ple, by the people and for the peo
i plo shall not perish from the earth"
is born in us, a part not only of our
; souls but of our blood and bone and
! flesh.
| As women we are not of the type
to permit our men to stand the
] whoie brunt of the service which
1 war demands. In the sphere of mill
| tnry defense, or of joining in the
' actual warfare of our Allies, we, of
course, have no part; but there are
dozens of different organizations
which offer us an opportunity to fit
ourselves for skilled and necessary
service, if the need should arise. In
the big work before the country no
one will have time to bother with
any inefficient and unskilled person,
no matter how great may be that
person's anxiety to help.
Still these organizations will claim
only a small part of the feminine
population; but every woman in the
I country, no matter what her duties
or ties, can jet join in spirit a great,
v.norganized army. And, by holding
herself strictly to the letter of its re
quirements, she can be doing "her
bit" as tellingly as any soldier at
the front.
A little group of women in the
highest official circles, including the
wife of the President, have set an
example of frugality and simplicity
which all women should feel it obli
gatory to follow. They have pledged
themselves to give no elaborate en
tertainments; onjy plain food will
be served at their tables; and their
clothes will be marked by an ex
treme simplicity.
Now it must be obvious to every
I one that there are even deeper rea
| sons for this than the fact that the
hour has come for us to husband
our vast national resources. We as
a country have not so far suffered
'because of the war except in a com
paratively few individual cases: but
since millions of people are living
through .the greatest horror possible,
it. shows a coarseness of fibre, a
callous insensibility to that mighty
agony for us to flount the purple and
pride of our wealth and extrava
gance.
With half the world a house of
mourning, we should at least show
our sympathy and respect far the
war-scarred souls of millions by
lowering the lights and subduing our
voices, in a measure at least.
And now that we are definitely
in the war and will have to meet all
of the sacrifices and obligations that
it may demand of us, It is expedi
ent, it Is profoundly necessary tot
the women of this country fully to
realize how indispensable a part they
can play, what valuable factors they
must be. lOven the most insignificant
n.ember of the great collective body
of American housekeepers will be
an important cog in the big ma
chinery of conservation.
I can perhaps make this clearer
by quoting from an article by Edith
Wharton than by any words that I
can say.
"After the Franco-Prussian war
of 1870, when France beaten to
earth, her armies lost, half her ter
ritory occupied, and with not a sin
gle ally to defend her interests —
when France was called on by her
conquerors to pay an Indemnity of
live thousand million francs in or
der to free her territory of the
enemy, she raised that huge sum
and paid it oft eighteen months
sooner than the date agreed upon
to the amazement and admiration
of the world.
"Every economist will tell you
that if France was able to make that
incredible effort, it was because all
over the country millions of French
women—laborers' wives, farmers'
wives, small shopkeepers' wives,
wives of big manufacturers and com
mission merchants and bankers —•
were to all Intents and purposes
j their husbands' business partners
ifir.d had had a direct interest in sav
ing and investing the millions of
millions piled up to pay France's
j ransom in her day of need. It Is a
glorious thing for the women of a
| country to have had such a share In
its redemption. At every stage In
French history. In war, in politics, In
literature, in art and in religion,
women have played a splendid and
decisive part; but none more splen
did or more decisive than the ob
scure part played by millions of
wives and mothers whose thrift and
prudence silently built up her sal
vation in 1872."
Can any woman read that and not
be thrilled? And now the same op
portunity for thrift and prudenoe
has come to us. It is a quiet, hum
ble, humdrum task that is asked of
us. Nothing daring, nothing spec
tacular; but nevertheless this is our
great moment—the moment that
comes once to every man and na
tion.
Women of America, wake up!
Your country needs you just as much
as she needs men in her army and
her navy. Stop coquetting with your
get culture-quick methods; let your
clothes and your bridge and your
sports and your study-clubs and your
dancing go to the dogs. You are
so!diers on the firlng-llne, and your
battleground is the home.
The warfare you've got to wage
lr. on waste, slack methods, extrava
gant household expenditure, unintel
ligent buying, unintelligent prepara
tion of foods. You've got to study
the whole science of saving, some
thing quite different, by the way,
from penny-wise and pound-foolish
retrenchment. Here also Is your
great chance to recover your lost
sanity in the matter of clothes. It
will not be required of you to be
frumpish or dowdy, but extremes in
style will be frowned upon.
To-day you can prove your qual
ity. If you do not meet this great
responsibility, why, to-morrow—to
morrow you will be weighed in the
balance of the future and found for
ever wanting.
Don't be a slacker!
Daily Dot Puzzle
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