! ; 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
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( 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