THE PATTON COURIER VNT) Service re FROM THE START Athol Meldrum, young Scots- man who tells the story leaves his mother and brother, Garry, to seek his fortune. At San Francisco, practically penniless, he takes a laborer’s job, and meets a fellow adventurer whom he dubs, the Prodigal. The Prodi- gal is anxious to j-I* the rush of gold seekers into Alaska, and Meldrum agrees to go with him after he (the Prodigal) comes back from a visit to his wealthy father in the East. Athol, in great need, is befriended by Jim Hubbard (“Salvation Jim”). When the Prodigal returns, the three men join the stampede into the Frozen North. On the boat is a young girl obviously out of place. She is traveling with her grand- father and a hard-looking couple named Winklestein who figure as her uncle and aunt. CHAPTER Il1I—Continued Gre, “Poor old beggar,” 1 thought; “I wonder if I cannot do anything for him.” And while I was thus debat- ing, a timid knock came to the door. I opened it, and there was the girl, Berna. There was a nervous anxiety in her manner, and a mute interrogation in her gray eyes. ‘I'm afraid he’s a little sick to- day,” I said gently; “but come in, won't you, and see him?” “Thank you.” With some words of endearment, she fell on her knees be- Bide him, and her small white hand sought his thin gnarled one. As if galvanized into life, the old man Burned gratefully to her. “Maybe he would care for some coffee,” I said. “I think I could rustle him same.” She gave me a queer, sad look of thanks. “If you could,” she answered. When I returned she had the old man propped up with pillows. She took the coffee from me, and held the cup to bis lips; but after a few sips be turned away wearily. ‘I'm afraid he doesn’t care for that,” I said. “No, I'm afraid he won't take ft. Oh, if I only had some fruit)” Then it was I bethought me of the box of grapes. I had bought them Just before leaving, thinking they would be a grateful surprise to my companions. Obviously 1 had been inspired, and now I produced them in triumph, big, plump, glossy fel- lows, buried in the fragrant cedar dust. I shook clear a large bunch, and once more we tried the old man. It seemed as if we had hit on the one thing needful, for he ate eagerly. When he had finished and was resting guietly, she turned to me. “I don’t know how I can thank you, sir, for your kindness.” “Very easily,” 1 said quickly; “it you will yourself accept some of the fruit, 1 shall be more than repaid.” She gave me a dubious look: then guch a bright, merry light flashed in. to her eyes that she was radiant in my sight, “If you will share them with me,” she said simply. So, for the lack of chairs, we squat- ted on the narrow stateroom floor. under the old man’s kindly eye. She ate daintily, and as we talked, I stud fed her face as if 1 would etch it on my memory forever. It must be remembered. lest 1 ap- pear to be taking a too eager inter est in the girl, that up till now the world of woman had been terra incog- nita to me; that | bad lived a singu- larly cloistered life, and that first and last I was an idealist. This girl had distinction, mystery and charm, and it ts not to be wondered at that | found a joy in her presence. Her mind seemed nimbly to outrun mine, and she divined my words ere 1 had them aottered. Yet she never spoke of herself, and when | left them to gether 1 was full of uneasy question- ing. It was on the third day 1 found the old man up and dressed, and Berna with him. She looked brighter and happier than I bad yet seen her. and she greeted me with a smiling face, Then, after a little, she said: “My grandfather plays the violin. Would you mind if he played over some of our old-country songs? It would comfort him.” “No, go ahead,” I said; “1 wish he would.” So she got an ancient violin, and the old man cuddled it lovingly and played soft, weird melodies, songs of the ('zechb race, that made me think of romance. of love and hate, and pas- gion and despair. The wild music throbbed with pas Bionate sweetness and despair, Un- observer, the pale twilight stole into the little cabin. The ruggedly fine tace of the old man was like one in. gpired, and with clasped hands, the giri nt. very white-faced and motion- kes Tlev | saw a gleam on her \ : » \ gd 13 <A | _ 5 Lh ¥ A Northland Romaned ILLUSTRATIONS by “ofS Robert W. Service = IY IRWIN \ MYERS N NN a Se e NX RNY a eS cheek, the soft falling of tears. 1 felt as if I had been allowed to share with them a few moments consecrated to their sorrow, and that they knew I understood. That day as I was leaving, 1 said to her: “Berna, this is our last night on board.” “Yes,” “Tomorrow our trails divide, maybe never again to cross. Will you come up on deck for a little while tonight? I want to talk to you.” . “Talk to me?” She looked startled, She hesitated. “Please, Berna, it’s the last time.” “All right,” she answered in a low tone, * incredulous. . LJ * . * * She came to meet me, lily-white and sweet. She was but thinly wrapped, and shivered so that I put my coat around her, “Berna |” “Yes.” “You're not happy, Berna. You're in sore trouble, little girl, 1 don’t know why you come up to this God- forsaken country or why you are with those people. 1 don’t want to know: but if there's anything I can do for you, any way I can prove myself a true friend. tell me, won't you?” She did not speak at once. Indeed, she was quiet for a long time, so that it seemed as if she must ‘be stricken dumb, or as if some feelings were con- flicting within her. Then at last very gently, very quietly, very sweet» ly, as if weighing her words, she spoke, “No, there's; nothing you can do. You've been kindness itself to grand- father and me, and I never can thank you enough.” “Nonsense! Don’t talk of thanks, Berna. You don’t know what a hap- piness it’s been to help you. I'm sor- ry I've done so little, Can't I be real- ly and truly your friend, Berna; your friend that would do much for you? Let me do something, anything, to show how earnestly I mean it?” “Yes, I know. Well, then, you are my dear, true friend—there, now.” “Yes—but, Berna! Tomorrow you'll go and we'll likely never see each other again, What's the good of it all?” “Well, what do you want? We will both have a memory, a very sweet, nice memory, won't we? Believe me. it’s better so. You don’t want to have anything to do with a girl like me. You don’t know anything about me, and you see the kind of people I'm go- ing with. Perhaps I am just as bad as they.” “Don’t say that, Berna,” I interposed sternly; “you're all that's good and pure and sweet.” “No, I'm not, either. We're all of us pretty mixed. But I'm not so bad. and it’s nice of you to think those things. . . . Oh! if 1 had never come on this terrible trip! I don’t even know where we are going, and I'm afraid, afraid.” “Well, Berna, if it’s like that, why don't you and your grandfather turn back? Why go on?” “He will never turn back. He'll go on till he dies. He only knows one word of English and that’s Klondike, Klondike. He mutters it a thousand times a day. He's like a man that's crazy. He thinks he has been chosen, and that to him will a great treasure | be revealed. You might as well rea- son with a stone. All I can do is to follow him, is to take care of him.” “What about the Winklesteins, Berna?” “Oh, they're at the bottom of it all. It is they who bave inflamed his mind, He has a little money, the savings of a lifetime, about two thonsand dollars; and ever since he came to this coun. try, they've been trying to get ft. They'll rob and kill him in the end, and the cruel part is—he’s not greedy, he doesn’t want it for himself—but for me. That's what breaks my heart, “Surely you're mistaken, Berna; they can't be so bad as that.” “Bad! I tell you they're vile, I should know it, I lived with them for three years.” “Where?” “In New York. I came from the old country to them, They worked me in the restaurant at first. Then, after a bit, IT got employment in a shirt- waist factory. I was quick and handy, and I worked early and late. I at- tended a night school. I read till my eyes ached. They said I was clever. The teacher wanted me to train and be a teacher, too. But what was the good of thinking of it? I had my living to get, so I stayed at the fac- tory and worked and worked. Then when I saved a few dollars, I sent for grandfather, and he came and we lived in the tenement and were very happy for a while, But the Winklesteins never gave us any peace. They knew he had a little money laid away, and they itched to get their hands on fit. I wasn’t afraid in'New York, Up here it's different. It's all so shadowy and sinister. “I didn’t mean to tell you all this, but now, if you want to be a true friend, Just go away and forget me, You don’t want to have anything to do with me. Wait! I'll tell you some- ‘hing more, I'm called Berna Wilo- The Wild Music Throbbed With Pas- sionate Sweetness and Despair. vich. That's my grandfather’s name. My mother ran away from home. Two years later she came back—with me. Soon after she died of consumption, She would never tell my father’s name, but said he was a Christian, and of good family. My grandfather tried to find out. He would have killed the man. So, you see, I am nameless, a child of shame and sorrow. And you are a gentleman, and proud of your family, Now, see the kind of friend you've made, You don’t want to make friends with such as L” “l want to make friends with such as need my friendship. What is going to happen to you, Berna?” “Happen! God knows! It doesn’t matter. Oh, I've always been in trouble. I'm used to it. It’s what I was made for, I suppose.” What she had told me had somehow stricken me dumb. There seemed a stark sordidness in the situation that repelled me. She had arisen when I aroused myself, “Berna,” I said, “what you have told me wrings my heart. I can’t tell you how terribly sorry I feel. Oh, I hate to let you go like this.” Her voice was full of pathetic resig- nation. “What can you do? If we were go- ing in together it might be different. When I met you at first I hoped, oh, I hoped—well, it doesn’t matter what I hoped. But, believe me, I'll be all right. You won't forget me, will you?” “Forget you! No, Berna, I'll never forget you. It cuts me to the heart 1 can do nothing now, but we'll meet up there. We can’t be divided for long. And you'll be all right, believe me, too, little girl. Be good and sweet and true and every one will love and help you. Ah, you must go. Well, well—God bless you, Berna.” Historians at Fault Two stubborn mistakes are often made concerning a famous French lady, Ninon de Lenclos: First, that she was a wanton by nature, second, that she made of love an actual busi ness. Both errors are cruel, both faise to the fame this remarkable and glam- orous lady won from her admirers, the many gallant, wise, great men who loved her in her youth, adored ber to her dying day. To understand the celebrated Len: clos you must understand her times. Truly to know her you must know her lovers. Her century she personified, fairly glorified. Her lovers she in- spired and enriched. One of the most devoted of them has testified to the degree of true ladyship she attained Old Fear Confirmed A German professor is now con- vinced that rocks breathe. That ex- plains the noises that a small boy hears In a lonely place on a dark night.—~Toronts Globe. & © in Depicting Lenclos and how in the salons she held in the last years of her life she was treated to the honors of a princely court. Count her not incorrigible if, in those same last years, when she was near- ing ninety, she had still her lovers. After all, Prince de Leon had crossed uncharted seas to search in vain for a secret of youth that Ninon found at home in Paris.—Mentor Magazine, Strange Dispensation Why doth Fate, that often bestows thousands of souls on a conqueror or tyrant, to be the sport of his pas- sions, so often deny the tenderest and most feeling hearts one kindred one on which to lavish their affections? Why is it that Love must so often sign in vain for an object, and Hate never 7—Richter. Speedy Wild Birds The average speed of wild ducks and geese in {flight Is about forty miles an hour, _ cess, dear friend of mine,” Suddenly a great impulse of tender- ness and pity came over me, and be- fore 1 knew it, my arms were around her. She struggled faintly, but her face was uplifted, her eyes starlike, Then, for a moment of bewildering ecstasy, her lips lay on mine, and I felt them faintly answer. Poor yielding lips! They were cold as ice. CHAPTER IV Never shall 1 forget the last 1 saw of her, a forlorn, pathetic figure in black, waving a farewell to me as 1 stood on the wharf. The gray eyes were clear and steady as she bade g00d-by to me, and from where we stood apart, her face had all the pa- thetic sweetness of a Madonna. Well, she was going, and sad enough her going seemed to me. They were all for Dyea, and the grim old Chil- coot, with its blizzard-beaten steeps, while we had chosen the less pre- cipitous, but more drawnout, Skagway trail. Among them I saw the insep- arable twins; the grim Hewson, the silent Mervin, each quiet and watch- ful, as if storing up power for a tre- mendous effort. There was the large unwholesomeness of Madam Winkle- stein, all Jewelry, smiles and coarse badinage, and near her, her perfumed husband, squinting and smirking abom- inably. There was the old man, with his face of a Hebrew seer, his vision- ary eye now aglow with financial en- thusiasm, his lips ever muttering : “Klondike, Klondike”; and lastly, by his side, with a little wry smile on her lips, there was the white-faced girl. How my heart ached for her! But the time for sentiment was at an end. The clarion call to action rang out. The reign of peace was over; the fight was on. Hundreds of scattered tents; a few frame buildings, mostly saloons, dance halls and gambling joints; an eager, excited mob crowding on the loose sidewalks, floundering knee-deep in the mire of the streets, struggling and squabbling and cursing over their out- fits—that is all I remember of Skag- way. The Prodigal developed a wonderful executive ability; he was a marvel of activity, seemed to think of every: thing and to glory in his responsibility as a leader. Always cheerful, always thoughtful, he was the brains of our party. He never abated in his efforts a moment, and was an example and a stimulus to us all. I say “all,” for we had added the “Jam-wagon” (A Jam- wagon was the general name given to an Englishman on the trail) to our number. It was the Prodigal who dis- covered him. He was a tall, dissolute Englishman, gaunt, ragged and ver- minous, but with the earmarks of a gentleman. A lost soul in every sense of the word, the North was to him a refuge and an unrestricted stamp- ing-ground. So, partly in pity, partly in hope of winning back his manhood, we allowed him to join the party. Pack animals were in vast demanad, for it was considered a pound of grub was the equal of a pound of gold. We were, lucky in buying a yoke of oxen from a packer for four hundred dol- lars. On the first day we hauled half of our outfit to Canyon City, and on This was our plan all through, though 1 in bad places we had to make many relays. It was simple enough, yea, oh, the travail of it! All days were hard. all exasperating, all crammed with discomfort; yet, bit by bit, we forged ahead. The army before us and the army behind never faltered. It was an endless procession, in which every man was for himself. There was no mercy, no humanity, no fellowship. All was blasphemy, fury and ruthless determination. It is the spirit of the gold-trail. At the canyon head was a large camp, and there, very much in evi- dence, the gambling fraternity. On one side of the canyon they had estab- lished a camp. It was evening and we three, the Prodigal, Salvation Jim and myself, strolled over to where a three- shell man was holding forth. It was Mosher, with his bald head, his crafty little eyes, his flat nose, his black beard. I saw Jim's face harden. He had always shown a bitter hatred of this man, and often I wondered why. We stood a little way off. The crowd thinned and filtered away until but one remained, one of the tall young men from Minnesota. We heard Mosher’s rieh voice. “Say, pard, bet ten dollars you can’t place the bean. See! I put the little joker under here, right before your eyes. Now, where is it?” “Here,” said the man, touching one of the shells, “Right you are, my hearty! here’s your ten.” The man from Minnesota took the money and was going away. “Hold on,” said Mosher; “how do I know you had the money to cover that bet?” The man laughed and took from his pocket a wad of bills an inch thick, “Guess that’s enough, ain’t it?” Quick as lightning Mosher had snatched the bills from him, and the man from Minnesota found himself Well, “This here's my money,” said Mosher; “now you git.” A moment only—a shot rang out. J saw the gun fall from Mosher’s hand, and the roll of bills drop to the ground, Quickly the man from Minnesota re- covered them and rushed off, That night I said to Jim: “How did you do it?” He laughed and showed me a hole In his coat pocket which a bullet had burned. (TO BE CONTINUED) / gazing intc the barrel of a six-shooter. | “And | wish you happivess and sue | the second we transferred the balance, | DEMOCRACY AS WAR’S ANTIDOTE By GENERAL SUMMERALL, Chief of Staff U. S. Army. AR will decrease as democracy increases among nations. Religion and patriotism always have gone hand in hand, and atheism seems ever to breed communism, No man or group of men can formulate public opinion in this nation. It is the result of a national psychology, a great force aroused simultaneously throughout the land by some incident or experi- ence, and carrying all before it when it moves. The people of this coun- try have an innate love for peace. They have developed and will develop an aversion for war, But in the last analysis the responsibility for the common defense rests upon the nation as a whole. The armed forces can only assist the people in the direction in which they wish to move, No nation ever has survived a great military defeat. Each war has strengthened the moral fiber of our people and given them a greater love for their country. In observing Memorial day and in honoring the fallen heroes of other great wars, it takes no eulogies, no recital of their tragedies to interpret what their going means to America. We take the army and navy for granted, and trust to those in charge the responsibility of keeping them sufficiently strong to protect our nation. We owe it to those who gave their lives, to take into con- sideration what they might have to say about it. We think of the Statue of Justice, and of the scales in one hand but we forget the sword in the other. No government can or does exist without sufficient forces to protect itself. Self-preservation is recognized as a primary obligation. EDUCATION IS ROAD TO WEALTH By DR. J. S. NOFFSINGER, National Home Study Council. Education is one of the greatest of all wealth producers in the mations economic structure. The per capita wealth last year in the five states which maintain the most efficient educational systems was twice that of the five states whose schooling standards are considered the least efficient. Incidentally, the progress of adult education has made notable strides in the wealthier states. This fact is due to the expansion of industry, finance and commerce, which made it impera- tive for organizations ‘o educate and train large numbers of their employees for advancement to higher positions. The scarcity of skilled workers and trained executives is reflected by the latest statistics bearing on the national employment conditions. These figures show that more than 42,000,000 persong are gainfully employed ia the United States, and of this vast army less than 4 per cent are installed in executive positions which carry the responsibility of directing the energies of these workers. Moreover, the demand for trained executives, technicians and skilled workers still exceeds the supply found available. INDIFFERENCE TO PUBLIC DUTY By GOVERNOR CAULFIELD, Missouri. Indifference to politics and disdain of politicians is tending to degrade government, No service is more important than service to the state. In the days of Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, Madison, Frank- lin and their contemporaries, the government seemed able to command and attract the very ablest men of the nation. Unfortunately there is a tendency on the part of our people to despise the public service and to shirk public duty. It is becoming fash- ionable to affect indifference to politics and a certain disdain of politi- cians. Such a tendency is deplorable, as it tends to degrade and ulti- mately destroy the people’s government. It is manifest that it is a high public duty, upon the performance of which the perpetuity of this form of government depends. The people should develop a fierce and militant passion for honest public service and should esteem those who render such services. RELIGION NOT MERE COMFORT By REV. DR. HARRY EMERSON FOSDICK. Religion has its comfortable aspects. Folks want it. It is dreadful to be really irreligious, to think that creation has no spiritual origin, meaning or destiny, that the creative power cares no more for us than the weather for the grass. One flees from the arctic cold of irreligion to the gracious warmth of faith in God and His goodness and to the comfortable and sustaining power of His fellowship. But it is easy to get a religion for comfort only. A man can love his family primarily for what he gets out of it. A man can love his country primarily for what he gets out of it. A man can love a friend and squeeze him like an orange into his cup; and a man can love God for what there is in it. There is a lot of that kind of religion today. Some of our most prominent modern cults face the tremendous temptation to be religious for comfort only. MISPLACED SENSE OF “HUMOR” By RABBI ISRAEL GOLDSTEIN, New York. A sense of humor is destructive of the will to progress and achieve- ment when it becomes a studied habit and pose. Most of the great leaders and reformers who left an impress upon their own and subsequent gen- erations were not noted for their sense of humor. Moses, Mohammed and Jesus, in the sphere of religious leadership, and Alexander and Napoleon, in the sphere of national leadership are outstanding examples. The great figures in public life today are on the whole very serious-minded men. When it is an occasional relaxation a sense of humor is wholesome and cleansing. But scoffing and mockery for the sake of amusement, which has become the vogue of onr blase youth, is a seasoned negation of the things that should matter most. | | | VERY engine, regardless of type, gives betterresults with Champion Spark Plugs. 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A bill introduced in the dail by him provides for the secrecy of jury panels, identification of jurors by numbers instead of names and secret hearings of all cases where ‘he police superintendent testifies that it is nee- essary for the safety of jurors and witnesses. Er, Plump “And is Wilbur as fat as ever?’ “Fat? He had the mumps three weeks before we knew it."—Army and Navy Journal. RA When your Children Cry for It Castoria is a comfort when Baby is fretful. No sooner taken than the little one is at ease. If restless, a few drops soon bring contentment. No harm done, for Castoria is a baby remedy, meant for babies. Perfectly safe to give the youngest infant; you have the doctors’ word for that! It is a vegetable pro- duct and you could use it every day. But it’s in an emergency that Castoria means most, Some night when consti- pation must be relieved—or colic pains —or other suffering. Never be without ity some mothers keep an extra bottle, unopened, to make sure there will al- ways be Castoria in the house. It is effective for older children, too; read the book that comes with it, SLT PIA CASTORIA PARKER’S HAIR BALSAM RemovesDandrufr StopsH&irFalling] Restores Color and Beauty to Gray and Faded Hair ) 60c. and $1.00 at Druggists, RS d Hiscox Chem. Wks, Patchogue, N. YJ FLORESTON SHAMPOO—Ideal for nse im onnection with Parker's Hair Balsam. Makes the hair goft and fluffy. 50 cents by mail or at dru gists. Hiscox Chemical Works, Patchogue, N. ¥. FINNEY IB oericeal Hil) orricerl!. J TMERES A MAN O OF TAT BUILDING HE LOOKS LIKE HE GETTING READY 10 OFF / FELIX ~ WE OL To VISIT ME TONIGHT {- YOU CALL UP IF HEY'RE G J 1 30 ERAT Rw | (Copyright, W.N. U Dubb Su By PERCY] Copyright, by the !
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers