! ; iSihi _J* J J ii j i fi *i nflMlJ ferWawetv ai\d all the hmiki JgHjtl THE! PERILS OF Part The-Reeil <^kS " ' i T j. w^Mjjer* (Continued) In a flash Smith knew what he had ' done. Once, one evening when he had been induced to put on the gloves with the Athletic club's trainer, he ! had contrived to plant a body blow ; which had sent the wiry little Irish- I man to the mat, gasping and Jightinir j for the breath of life. "If ever yez'll 1 be givin' a man thatheart-punch wid ! th' bare flsht. Mister Montague, 'tis you f'r th' fasht train without shtop-1 pin' to buy anny ticket —it'll be mur ther in the first deg'ree," the trainer had said, when he had breath to j compass the saying. With the unheeded warning resur- ; gent and clamoring in his ears. Smith Icnelt horror-stricken beside the fal -I*l man. On the president's heav 1 Fashions of To-Day - By May Manton . HERE, is a frock especially designed for school wear. It is made with bloomers fto match and it is appropriate for all the simple childlike ma terials, for serge and for wool fabrics of such sort, for linen. ! pique, galatea and gingham, all ot which arc worn for school. In the picture, a striped galatea i is trimmed with plain. Such treatment always makes a good effect, but the pantl can be 1 used for a contrasting material or for a matching material that is trimmed or biaided or em broidered, or it can be made simply plain, as it is in the small front view. The bloomers are of the circular sort, conse- ; quently, they are smooth over For the 8-year size the dress will require, 3 yards of material 36 inches wide, 2) 2 yards 44 or 2}\ yards 54, with l /l yard 36 inches wide for trimming and for the bloomers, ij-yj yards of The pattern No. 9210 is cut in sizes for girls from 4 to 10 J years of age. It will be mailed i to any address by the Fashion Department of this papci, on receipt of fifteen cents. Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1917, International News Service By NICD/I&nUS \ I H/Wt; A bON4 HERE 1_ \ *HEAD- ' f THE. ID EVEN C w ELI.-WHM ACCORDIhV ' THW I RAVE WRITTEN- —) FORKED IN (J] BROlE-E-F b• > j RATHER BE. \ DO >foo THINK To MT TV/EfST^T TO SELL IT r \ jj] J] \J HOME THAN 1 OU<SHT TO Arr I YEARS".' — _" I *' '''' ''' MONDAY F.VENING, I face and in the staring eyes there i was a foolish smile, as of one mildly [ astonished. Smith loosened the collar around the thick neck and laid his j ear upon the spot where the blow j had fallen. The big man's heart had j stopped like a smashed clock. Smith not Upon his feet, turned off the electric light, and, from mere! ! force of habit, closed and snap-lock- j | cd the president's desk. The watch j man had not yet returned. Smith saw ( I the empty Chair beside the door as i j lie passed it on his way to the street. I j The cashier's only thought was to go ; at once to police headquarters and ! I give himself up. Then he remember-I | ed how carefully the trap had been j ! set, and how impossible it would be S for him to make any reasonable de ► fense. With one glance over his shoulder 11 at the darkened front windows of ' | the bank, Smith began to run, not i toward the police station, but in the opposite direction—toward the rail ! road station. For .1. Montague Smith, slipping ■ from shadow to shadow down the | scantily lighted cross street and list- I ening momentarily for the footfalls of pursuit, a new hour had struck. llt was all prodigiously incredible. The crowding sensations were ter rifying. but they were also precious. ! in their way. Long forgotten bits of ! brutality and tyranny on Watrous Dunham's part came up to be 're membered and, in this retributive aftermath, to be triumphantly cross ed off as items in an account finally settled. On the Smith side the bank I cashier's forebears had been plod- I ding farmers, but old John Mon j tague had been the village black ' smith and a soldier—a shrewd smit er in both trades. Blood will tell. Parental iniplantings may have much to say to the fruit of the womb, but atavism has more. Smith's jaw came : up with a snap. He was no longer an -1 indistinguishable unit in the ranks . of the respectable and the well-be haved; he was a man fleeing for *, his life. What was done was done, i and the next thing to do was to avert I 1 the consequences. ' At the railroad station a few early , comers for the west-bound passenger j train due at ten o'clock were already | gathering, and at the bidding of a ! certain new and militant craftiness Smith avoided the lighted waiting I rooms as if they had been pushed up j | from the freight-unloading platforms' recently, and in the shadow of the | j cars he worked his way westward to ! j the yard where a night switching j crew was making up a train. Keeping to the shadows, he walk ed back along the line of cars on the I make-up track, alertly seeking hisl j opportunity. Half-way down the! length of the train he found what he was looking for; a box car with j its sidedoor hasped but not locked. With a bit of stick to lengthen his reach, he unfastened the hasp, and at the switching crew's addition of another car to the "make-up" he took advantage, of the noise made by the jangling crash and slid the door. Then he ascertained by grop ing into the dark interior that the car was empty. With a foot on the truss-rod he climbed in, and at the next coupling crash closed the door. CHAPTER 111. The High Hills. The Nevada through freight was two hours late issuing from the west | ern portal of Timanyoni canon. Through the early mountain climb | ing hours of the night and the later | I flight across the Red desert, the ] dusty, travel-grimed young fellow j | in the empty box car midway of the train had slept soundly, with the j hard car floor for a bed and his fold- ! | ed coat for a pillow. But the sudden cessation of the crash and roar of ! the shut-in mountain passage awoke j him and he got up to open the door I and look out. ) It was still no later than a lazy man's breakfast time, and the May j morning was perfect. Over the top of the eastern range the sun was looking, level-rayed, into a parked ' valley bounded on all sides by high ; spurs and distant snow peaks. In its ; nearer reaches the valley was dotted : with round hills, some of them bare, others dark with mountain pine and fir. Krom the outer loopings of the curves, the young tramp at the car [ door had momentary glimpses of the I Timanyoni, a mountain torrent in its I canon, and the swiftest of upland | rivers even hero where' it had the I valley in which to expand. A Copah ! switchman had told him that the railroad division town of Brewster lay at the end of the night's run, in a river valley beyond the eastern Timanyonis, and that the situation of the irrigation project which was. IHARRISBURG TELEGRAPH advertising for laborers in the Den ver newspapers was a few miles up the rivet* from Brewster. As the train swept along on its way down the grades the valley be came more open and the prospect broadened. At one of the promon tory roundings the box car passenger had a glimpse of a shack-built con struction camp on the river's mar gin some distance on ahead. A con crete dam was rising in sections out of the river, and dominating the dam and the shacks two steel tow ers, with a carrying cable stretched between them, formed the piers of the actual spout conveyer for the placing of the material in the forms. The train made no stop at the con struction siding, but a mile farther along the brakes began to grind and the speed was slackened. Sliding the car door another foot or two, the young tramp with the week-old stub ble beard on his face leaned out to look ahead. His opportunity was at hand. A block semaphore was turn ed against the freight and the train was slowing in obedience to the sig nal, the tramp put his shoulder to the sliding door, sat for a moment in the wider opening, and then swung off. His alighting was upon one of the promontory embankments. To the westward, where the curving rail road track was lost in the farlher windings of the' river, lay the little intermountain city of Brewster, a few of its higher buildings showing clear-cut in the distance. Paralleling the railroad, on a lower level and nearer the river, a dusty wagon road pointed in one direction toward the town, and in the other toward the construction camp. (To Be Continued) Daily Dot Puzzle 7 ,b. * '. 8 '9 2o , , 22 15 <^.£3 -Cru* ~ 4 " ' / i ''- 5 •13 > " •45 A^'* 29 ' 44- ji # _ * 3 ° • .2 • -3i . .33 JO ° 38 #as 37 • 3fo .39 9. * 4 40 • 3 ? 8 • V s 4-2, ( 4 4 : "THEIR MARRIED LIFE" Copyright by International News Service | j "I heard an interesting story to j day," Helen remarked as they went j in to dinner. . "What kind of a story?" Warren asked noncomittally. He was not going to be too ready to seem In terested. He had had a long, hard day at the office and really pre- I ferred a dinner eaten in silence to I being compelled to respond to Helen. "It was about those friends of Lulu Holmes. You know I told you of calling on them, Warren. They live down near the square, and the girl does silhouettes." "Well, what's their names? You don't think I remember the names of everyone in New Yoik, do you?" "Hunt, dear —Billie and Queenie Hunt." "Yes," Warren returned, with the first show of interest he had evinc ed. "Well, what about them?" "Well, I'm not so anxious to tell you about it, if you're not anxious to hear," Helen' said, calmly begin ning to sip her soup. This always made Warren furious. • "How often have 1 told you that I hate to have you begin a story you can't finish," he growled. Helen looked up and smiled pro vokingly. "I'll tell you, Warren, I don't feel any more like being spoken to that way than you feel like being both ered, so let's call It off, shall we?" Warren looked surprised ut these tactics. It was so seldom that Helen fought back, when he got into a mood of this kind. As a gen eraj, rule she would have been either anxious to appease him and tell the story, or she would have kept silent, like a martyr until Warren chose to speak and then she would raise ' eyea filled with tears. Warren really despised Helen's ready tears, but It gave him a feel ing of despotism in the home that rather pleased his masculine van ity. To-night Helen did not act In the usual manner. The truth of the matter was that she felt too well. She had had a pleasant day, and the recent gift from Mollic Bangs' father, which had evoked several sarcastic remarks from Warren, had filled Helen with self confidence. Warren began to take different tactics after the meal had proceeded in silence for a few min utes. "You women don't seem to realize that after a man has had a hard day at the office it's a difficult thing for him to appear cheerful and re spond to everything on the in stant." Helen said nothing:. It was use less to begin that ago old argument. Warren would never realize that a woman had just as many things to see to as a man. But to her sur prise he said reasonably. "I don't mean the work so much, but a man is tied down to an office seeing the same people day in and day out. A woman, no matter how many little things she has to do, has more variety in her day. I go right from here to the office in the morning and come directly home at night. It Is very seldom that I have a few minutes I can call my own. When I come home, the even ings are generally panned for me. Did you ever stop to look at the question from a man's standpoint?" Helen was regarding Warren in terestedly. "Why no, Warren, I don't believe I ever have, but 1 can see your point very plainly, and I'd like to do whatever I can." Warren, restored to good nature, grinned. "Well, don't you think we might cut out seeing so many people? We have been going pretty heavily of late, and it keeps me on the rush all the time." "Certainly I do, dear. We'll be gin with next week and spend more evenings at home." Helen was thrilled all over at the thought that Warren was actually proposing more evenings at home with her. She had thought that he preferred evenings out or people coming in How glad she was now that the argument had started. "All right," he rejoined: "that makes a better lookout. Now go on with the story. I really want to hear it." "Why, it wasn't anything at all," protested Helen. "I simply thought that it was awfully characteristic and rather timely. It seems that this Billie Hunt spent six months at ♦he border. He belongs to one ot the regiments, so that when the troops began to be called out again he was almost afraid to get up in the morning for fear that he would betaken away from his wife again. They have been married only a year.' l "Gee! that was tough. But there must be lots of similar cases," re joined Warren. "Of course there are; and I guess the men are proud to be called. But Billie was hoping that the mar ried men of his regiment would not be called until later. Finally the regiment was called out; and what do you think--—the requirements are so much more rigid now that he was rejected physically." "What was the matter?" "Fallen arches, but he was re jected, and just as soon as he dis covered that ho was, he felt horribly ashamed and humiliated, and so did his wife. What do you think of that for human nature?" "Pretty good," said Warren, stretching back in his chair and lighting a cigar. "Well, what is the program for to-night? I hope we're not going anywhere." Helen flushed. "We are, dear; we promised to go down to the Browns." "Well, can you beat that!" ex ploded Warren. Til bet you made the date, all right. This is the first I've heard of it. After this you can let me know a little bit more about our engagements. I think I am en titled to a little consideration." (The next installment of this in teresting scries will appear here soon). Cumberland Valley Fruit Crop Will Be Immense Hagerstown, aid., May 21.—Ac cording to fruit experts, the peach crop in this section of the Cumber land Valley this year will, from pres ent indications, be the largest ever produced, with the prospect of prices being good and yielding growers large returns. The individual peach crops will range from 500 to 100,- 000 bushels. Aaron Newcomer, who owns large orchards or. the moun tain on both sides of the Mason and Dixon line, will have a yield of a hundred thousand bushils of peaches, the largest in this section. WILL <;o TO FRANCE Waynesboro, Pa., May 21.—Rich ard Oiler, of Waynesboro, will go to France with the Princeton University unit of the American Ambulance Corps. Ho will sail May 26. MAY 21, 1917. The Honeymoon House By HAZEL DALE By 11a/.el Dale "You mean that I am really going to have a part in a play?" Karen asked with shining eyes. Gone were the traces of weariness, and for gotten the remembrance of what had taken place that evening. Karen was herself again. "I really do mean just that," John Armstrong said reassuringly. "Now if you will be a good girl and prom ise not to faint nor do anything foolish, I'll teli you all about It." "I never faint," Karen exclaimed scornfully. "Perhaps nOt, but you got awfully white before. What have you been doing, child. 1 never saw you in such a condition. Why, you're trembling still. Something has hap pened. Remember, I'm your big brother; you can tell me about it." For a second Karen hesitated; then she laughed gaily. "No won der I was pale," she said happily. "It was like a bone thrown to a starving man. Oil, I know that you have been good to me, and that I can never repay it. I know that I would still be working in a factory if it weren't for you. But 1 didn't want to be a stenographer. I want to live. 1 want to let my imagina tion soar; I want to be different and free." She stopped and looked a little fearfully at the kind face across the table. "I do hope you under stand," she almost whispered, "and you won't think me ungrateful, and •selfish. I was never going to tell you. but I feel that I fan now." "Of course. I understand," John Armstrong returned. "1 have un derstood from the very first, that is why 1 have moved Heaven and earth to get you a part in a New York production. I never expected to get such a good one unless I wrote a play myself about your character and that would take too long. But things came my way at last. They are putting on a play next month called 'Sacred Pre cincts.' "The girl who was to have had your part was taken ill. It Is just the kind of a role that I should have selected for you, the younger sister of the heroine. You haven't as many lines, but your part has really more to it. You are to be the intruder, as it were, although you are unconscious of the fact." "What kind 'of a character?" questioned Karen. "Very young, but strangely so phisticated. The kind of a woman men rave about, Innocent but ex pectant." "And you think I can play It?" "1 know it, and you know it too." John Armstrong returned, leaning across the table and looking at her closely. "I think I can." the girl breathed. "But it all seems too wonderful to be true. When can I begin to study? When am 1 to see my part? You say it is a month off, but that doesn't matter; l can do it. When do 1 rehearse?" The girl's quick questions were almost feverishly in sistent. "I suppose that if I were to tell you that you must begin to-night, you would do it." "Oh, but of course," Karen said surprised. "Have you the manu script with you? Couldn't you let me have it? Oh, I need something to-night really I do. something to make me forgot unpleasantness." John Armstrong looked at her keenly. "If I had the manuscript with me. I shouldn't let you see it," he said, after a minute. "Something has upset you; I can see that. But let mo tell you something, Karen. You are going to need 'all your strength for the next few weeks. You are going to work as you have never worked before. Remember, you know nothing at all about the stage, and you must learn every thing in a month's time. "Some men would call me crazy for thinking you can do it. but I have confidence in you. I know you'll make good. But you'll have to give yourself up to it body and soul. You'll have to forget every thing else, because there won't be room for outside interference. Are you prepared to do this? To work and tight and be sensible?" Karen looked up at his keen, earnest face, and read his meaning. Of course, he could not know about Dick, but he did suspect that some thing was wrong. His grave eyes had nothing In their depths that she might fear to read; apparently his feelings for her were purely Platonic. Karen longed to be free from this weakenss that seemed to spread a snare' about her feet, and to hold her back when she would scale the heights of success. But she would put Dick Arm strong out of her mind for good and all. She would make good and do all that she could to repay this man who was her friend, and ex pected nothing in return for what he did for her. How could she know that John Armstrong also loved her? (To be continued) Sauce For Vegetables When vegetables are expensive it is often an advantage to "help them out" with some sort of qpuce. Yet one grows rather tired of the eternal ap propriate sauces that you will find it to your advantage to use with veg etables from time to time: Nut Gravy—This is especially good when used with rather tasteless veg etables. Melt a teaspoonful of butter without browning and add two table spoonfuls of ground walnuts or any other sort of nuts y.ou have on hand. Now cut a small onion into small pieces and add it and fry all to a light brown. Stir in slowly one tablespoon ful of flour and add one cupful or less of hot water, a little at a time. A lit tle meat extract or stock may be add ed. Season with pepper and salt and serve poured over the vegetables. Graham Sauce—Rub 1% tablespoon fuls of graham flour with a half table spoonful of butter till smooth. Add a half cupful of milk and stir over the tire till smooth and creamy. 801 l for five minutes, season to taste and pour over carrots or other boiled vege tables. Green Sauce—Green sauce is not only toothsome but very attractive to see as well. Wash and cut up fine a little parsley, chive tops and borage, if you have them. Make ready a thin white sauce and add the greens. This is delicious with lima beans or cream ed potatoes. Horseradish Sauce—To make this make the usual thin white sauce. When it has been cooked for five min utes add grated horseradish in vinegar i in the proportion of one tablespoon-' ful of the horseradish and vinegar to one cupful of the white sauce. This Is also excellent on boiled beef. It is very good with plain boiled potatoes, when served with any sort of boiled meat. Celery Sauce—This calls for celery washed, cut up and belled tender as for celery soup, excepting that the least water possible should be ■When tender rub through a sieve. This celery pulp should be put back in the water In which the celery has been cooked, and placed in a small saucepan. Add a little melted butter, salt and peper and serve with carrots, oyster plant, potatoes or boiled greens/ ??? ? ? Why send your orders for Calling Cards, Announce ments, Wedding Invita tions, Place Cards, etc., to the larger cities and be obliged to wait for them from ten days to two weeks when you can have them done just as well in Harrisburg in half the ; time? ??? ? ? | The Telegraph Printing: Co. ; Printing, Blndla*. Plate Printing, Die Stanpla*. Photo Knsravlag HARRISBURG 7
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers