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
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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.
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Numbered Jurymen Next
Europe is watching with great in
terest the result of the plan of Presi
dent Cosgrave of the executive council
of the Irish Free State to circumvent
the intimidation of jurors and wit-
nesses. 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
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RS d Hiscox Chem. Wks, Patchogue, N. YJ
FLORESTON SHAMPOO—Ideal for nse im
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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
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1 30 ERAT Rw
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(Copyright, W.N. U
Dubb Su
By
PERCY]
Copyright, by the !