THE CHAPTER XIV—Continued — Tm In the days that followed 1 did much to bring about a friendship be- tween Garry and Berna, At first | had difficulty in dragging him to the house, but in a little while he came quite willingly. His sunny charm re turned, and with it his brilliant smile, his warm, endearing frankness. 1 must say I tried very hard to reconcile Berna and Garry. 1 threw them together on every opportunity, for 1 wanted him to understand and to love her. 1 felt he had but to know her to appreciate her at ner true value, and, a¥ihough he spoke ne word to me, 1 was soon conScious of a vast change in him. Short of bretherly regard, he was everything that could be desired to her—cordial, friendly, charming. Once 1 asked Berna what she thought of him, “l think he’s splendid,” she sald quietly. “He's the handsomest man YT've ever seen, and he’s as nice as he's good looking. In many ways you remind me of him—and yet there's a difference.” “l] remind you of him—no, girl He's as much above me as 1 am above —say a siwash. He has all the vir tues; I, all the faults. He {is the self 1 should have been if the worst had been the best.” “Hush! you are my sweetheart,” she assured me with a caress, “and the dearest in the world.” , “By the way, Berna,” 1 sald, “you remember something we talked about before he came? Don’t you think that now—1?" “Now—72" “Yes.” “All right.” She flashed a glad, tender look at me and left the room. That night she was strangely elated. I was head over ears in work. In a mail just arrived I had a letter from the Prodigal, and a certain para- graph in it set me pondering. Here it was: “You must look out for Locasto. He was in New York a week ago He's down and out. Blood-poisoning set in in his foot after he got Out side, and eventually he had to have it taken off. He's got a false mit for the one Mac sawed off. But you should see him. He's all shot to pieces with the ‘hooch. It’s a fright the pace he’s gone. Seemed to have a terrible pick at you. Seems you have copped out his best girl, the only one he ever cared a red cent for. Said he would get even with you if he swung for it. I think he’s dangerous, even a madman. He fis leaving for the North now, so be on your guard.” Locasto coming! I had almost for gotten his existence, Well, I no long- er cared for him. I could afford to despise him. Surely he would never dare to molest us. If he did—he was a broken, discredited blackguard. 1 could crush him, Coming here! He must even now be on the way. He was coming back to the scene of his ruined fortunes, and God knows with what wild schemes of vengeance his heart was full. Decidedly I must beware. Ag I sat there dreaming, a ring came to the phone. It was the foreman at Gold hill, “The hoisting machine has broken down,” he told me. “Can you come out and see what is required?” “All right,” 1 replied. “I'll leave at once.” “Berna,” I said, “I'll have to gc out to the Forks tonight. I'll be back early tomorrow. Get me a bite to eat, dear, while I go round and or- der the horse.” On my way [ met Garry and told him 1 would be gone over night. “Won't you come?” I asked. “No, thanks, old man, I don’t feel lke a night drive.” “All right. Goodby.” So 1 hurried off, and soon after. with a jingle of bells, I drove up to my door. Berna had made supper She seemed excited. Her eyes were starry bright, her cheeks burned. “Aren't you well, sweetheart?” 1 asked. “You look feverish.” “Yes, dear, I'm well. But I don’t want you to go tonight. Something tells me you shouldn't. Please don't go, dear. Please, for my sake. I'm afraid, I'm afraid. Won't some one else do?” “Nonsense, girl. You mustn’t be so foolish. It’s only for a few hours’ She clung to me tightly, so that | wondered what had got into the girl Then gently I kissed her, disengaged ber hands, and bade her good-night. As | was rattling off through the darkness, a boy handed me a note I put it in my pocket, thinking 1 would read it when | reached Ogilvie bridge. Then 1 whipped up the horse. As | sped along, with a jingle ot bells, my spirits rose. Things were looking splendid. The mine was turning out far better than we had expected. Surely we could sell out soon, and 1 would have all the money I wanted. My life-struggle was near Jy over. Then again, I had reconciled Garry jo Berna. When I told him of a cer fain secret 1 was hugging to my breast he would capitulate entirely. How huppy we would all be! I would buy a small estate near home, and we would settle down. But first we would spend a few years in travel. Ve would see the whole world. What good times we would have, Berna and I! Bless her! It had all worked put berutifully, Why wes sbe 80 frightened, so loath ed Northland Romance | by Robert W. Service Illustrations by Irwin Myers WNU Bervice to let me go? 1 wondered vaguely and flicked up the horse so that it plunged sharply forward. Bother! In my elation I had for gotten to get off at the inn and read my note. Never mind, I would keep it till 1 reached the Forks. As I drew up at the hotel, the clerk came out to meet me. “Gent wants to speak to you at the phone, sir.” It was Murray of Dawson, an old timer, and rather a friend of mine. “Hello!” “Hello! Say, Meldrum, this ts Mur ray speaking. Say, just wanted to let you know there’s a stage due some time before morning, Locasto’s on board, and they say he’s heeled for you. Thought I'd better tell you so’s you can get fixed up for him.” “All right,” I answered. ‘‘Thank you. I'll turn and come right back.” So I switched round the horse, and once more I drove over the glisten ing road. A grim fear was gripping Curse the Vile Wretch That Wrote Such Words! me, Of a sudden the shadow of Lo- casto loomed up sinister and menac- ing. Even now he was speeding Daw- sonward with a great hatred of me in his heart, Well, I would get back and prepare for him, There came to my mind a comic perception of the awkwardness of re- turning to one’s own home unexpect- edly, in the dead of night. At first I decided I would go to a hotel, then on second thoughts I determined to try the house, for 1 had a desire to be near Berna. I knocked gently, then a little loud- er, then at last quite loudly. Within all was still, dark as a sepulcher. Curious! she was such a light sleep- er, too. Why did she not hear me? Once more I decided to go to the hotel ; once more that vague, indef- inite fear assailed me and again 1 knocked. And now my fear was be- coming a panic. I had my latch-key in my pocket, so very quietly I opened the door. “Berna,” 1 whispered. No reply. That dim, nameless dread was clutching at my heart, and I groped overhead in the darkness for the drop-light. Instantly the cabin was flooded with light. In the dining room 1} could see the remains of our supper lying untidily. That was not like her. She had a horror of dirty dishes. 1 passed into the bedroom— Ah! the bed had never been slept on What a fool I was! It flashed on me she had gone over to a neighbor's to sleep. She was afraid of being alone. Poor little girl! How sur- TRAIL OF °98 © prised she would be to see me in the morning! Well, 1 would go to bed. As | was pulling off my coat, 1 found the note that had been given to me. Blaming myself for my carelessness, | pulled it out of my pocket and openeq fit. As | unfolded the sheet, | noticed it was written In what looked like a disguised hand, Strange! I thought The writing was small and faint. | rubbed my eyes and held it up to the light. Merciful God! What was this? Ob no, it could not be! My eyes were deceiving me. It was some illusion Feverishly 1 read again. Yes, they were the same words. What could they mean? Surely, surely—Oh, hor ror of horrors! They could not mean that. Again I read them, Yes, there they were: “If you are fool enough to believe that Berna is faithful to you visit your brother's room tonight. “A Wellwisher.” Berna; Garry!—the two | loved Oh, it could not be! It was mon: strous. It was too horrible! 1 would not believe it; I would not. Curse the vile wretch that wrote such words. 1 would kill him, Bernal mj Berna! she was as good as goid, as true as steel, Garry! | would lay my life on his honor. Dazedly 1 sat down. The paper lay on the hearth rug, and | stared at it batefully. It was unspeakably loathsome, yet 1 was fascinated by it. | longed to take ft up, to read it again. Somehow I did not dare. I was becoming a coward Well, it was a lie, a black devil's lie. She was with one of the neigh- bors. I trusted her. 1 would trust her with my life. I would go to bed. In the morning she would return, and then I would unearth the wretch who had dared to write such things. I be- gan to undress. Wearily I took off my clothes. 1] lay in bed with the darkness enfold- ing me, and I closed my eyes to make a double darkness. Ha! right in the center of my eyes, burned the fatal paper with its atrocious suggestion. I sprang up. It was of no use. 1 must settle this thing once and for all. I turned on the light and delib- erately dressed again. I was going to the hotel where Gar- ry had his room. I would tell him I had come back unexpectedly and ask to share his room. 1 was not acting on the note! 1 did not sus- pect her. Heaven forbid! But the thing had unnerved me. I could not stay in this place. The hotel was quiet. A sleepy night clerk stared at me, and I pushed past him. Garry’s rooms were on the third floor. Through the som I could see his light was ing. I knocked faintly. i There was a sudden stir. Again I knocked. Did my ears deceive me or did 1 hear a woman's startled cry? There was something familiar about it—Oh, my God! I reeled. I almost fell. I clutched at the door-frame. I leaned sickly against the door for support. Beaven help me! “I'm coming,” I heard him say. The door was unlocked, and there he stood. He was fully dressed. He looked at me with an expression on his face I could not define, but he was very calm. “Come in,” he said. I went into his sitting-room. Ev- erything was in order. I would have sworn I heard a woman scream, and yet no one was in sight. The bed- room door was slightly ajar. [I eyed it in a fascinated way. “I'm sorry to disturb you, Garry,” I said, and 1 was conscious how strained and queer my voice sounded. “l got back suddenly, and there’s no one at home. 1 want to stay here with you, if you don’t mind.” “Certainly, old man; only too glad to have you.” His voice was steady. I sat down on the edge of a chair. My eyes were riveted on that bedroom door. “Had a good drive?’ he went on genially. “You must be cold. Let me give you some whisky.” OO © Why is winter colder than summer? How deep does a scuttled ship sink, and why does air in a closed room get bad? A recent examination of presumably well-informed people revealed that many a man of more than average education can be caught in pitfalls of ignorance. Most people were caught over the first question. More than four-fifths said that winter is colder than sum- mer because the sun is then farther away. This, of course, is wrong, the sun being nearer in winter. The real reason lies in the earth’s changing slant, which brings the sun directly overhead in summer and lower in the sky in winter. Surprisingly common, too, was the idea that sunken ‘ships do not go to the bottom, but float at some midway level. Heavy objects sink because they are denser than water. A ship sinks to the bottom because water's density remains virtually unchanged despite the enormous pressures en- countered at great depths. Air in a closed room gets bad be- cause of the gradual exhaustion of the oxygen contained in the air, and Simple Questions That Often Prove Pitfalls not, as many people suppose, because of carbon dioxide gas exhaled by its occupants. Remarkable Woman Old Silerius says in his memoirs that long after he became a widower and somewhat cynical, he associated with a women he finally concluded he would like to marry. But she refused him; she said they got much out of their association as they were, but that marriage would probably spoil it. There was probably something in the woman's statement; just how much 1 do not know, but no other woman in history ever took that po- sition.—E. W. Howe's Monthly, Martyr's Big Mistake The one real liberty we have is lib- erty of thinking, most of which a man should keep to himself, to avoid un- necessary trouble. Many a martyr might have avoided martyrdom bz keeping his mouth shut, and without loss of usefulness.—E. W. Howe's Monthly. Most of our time 1s passed getting used to the things we didn't expect. THE PATTON COURIER I held the glass with a shucking hand: “What's You're il.” 1 clutched him by the arm. “Gu ry, there's some one in that room.” “Nonsense! there's no one there.” “There is, | tell you. Listen! Don’t you hear them breathing?” He was quiet. Distinctly 1 could hear the panting of human breath. | was going mad. 1 could stand it ne longer, “Garry,” 1 gasped, “I'm going te see, I'm going to see.” “Hold on—" “Leave go, man! [I'm going, I say You won't hold me. Let go, I tell you, let go—Now come out, come out, whoever you are—Ah!” It was a woman, “Hal” 1 cried, “1 told you so, broth: er; a woman. | think I know her, too. Here, let me see—I thought so.” I had clutched her, pulled her to the light. It was Berna. Her face was white as chalk, her eyes dilated with terror. She trem- bled. She seemed near fainting. “1 thought so.” Now that it seemed the worst was betrayed to me, | was strangely calm 1 made her sit down. She said no word, but looked at me with a wild pleading in her eyes. No one spoke. There we were, the three of us; Berna faint with fear, ghastly, piti- ful; 1 calm, yet calm with a strange, unnatural calmness, and Garry—he surprised me, He had seated himself, and with the greatest sang-froid he was lighting a cigarette. A long tense silence. broke it. “What have you got to say for yourself, Garry?” | asked. It was wonderful how calm he was. “Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it, broth- er?” he said gravely. “Yes, it couldn't look worse.” “That’s so.” He rose and turned up the light of a large reading-lanp, then coming to me he looked pie square in the face. Abruptly Lis casual manner dropped. He grew sharp, forceful; his voice rang clear. “Listen to me. I came out here to save you, and I'm going to save you. You wanted me to believe that this girl was good. You believed it. You were bewitched, befooled, blinded. I could see it, but I had to make you see it. 1 had to make you realize how worthless she was, how her love for you was a sham, a pretense to prey on you. How could I prove it? You would not listen to reason: I had to take other means. Now, hear me.” “I hear.” “I laid my plans. For three months I've tried to conquer her, to win ber love, take her from you. She was truer ® you than I had bar- gakhed for; st give her credit that, Sbe igade a good fight, but hink 1 have triumphed. Tonight she came to my room at my invita- tion.” the matter, old man! At last 1 “Well 2” “Well. You got a note. Now, I wrote that note. I planned this scene, this discovery. 1 planned it so that your eyes would be opened, so that you would see what she was, so that you would cast her from you —unfaithful, a wanton, a—" “Hold on there,” I broke in; “broth- er of mine or no, I won't hear you call her those names; no, not if she were ten times as unfaithful. You won't, I say. I'll choke the words in your throat. I'll kill you, if you uyt- ter a word against her. Oh, what have you done?” “What have I done! Try to he calm, man. What have 1 done? Well, this is what I've done, and it’s the lucky day for you I've done it. I've saved you from shame; I've freed you from sin; I've shown you the base- ness of this girl.” He rose to his feet. “Oh, my brother, I've stolen from you your mistress; that’s what I've done.” “Oh, no, you haven't,” I groaned “God forgive you, Garry; God for give you! She's not my—not what you think. She's my wife!” I thought that he would faint. His face went white as paper and he shrank back. He gazed at me with wild, straining eyes. “God forgive me! Oh, why didn’t you tell me, boy? You should have trusted me. You should have told me. When were you married?” “Just a month ago. 1 was keeping it as a surprise for you. 1 was walit- ing till you said you liked and thought well of ber. Oh, 1 thought you would be pleased and glad, and 1 was treas- uring it up to tell you.” “This is terrible, terrible!” His voice was choked with agony. On her chair, Berna drooped wear- ily. Her wide, staring eyes were fixed on the floor in pitiful perplexity. “Yes, it's terrible enough, We were so happy. gether, heaven for us both. And then you came, you with your charm that would lure an angel from high heav- en. You tried your power on my poor little girl, the girl that never loved but me. And | trusted you, I tried to make you and her friends, 1 left you together. In my blind innocence I aided you in every way—a simple, loving fool. You came like a ser pent, a foul, crawling thing, to steal her from me, to wrong me. She was loving, faithful, pure. You would have dragged her in the mire. “Stop, brother, stop, for heaven's sake! You wrong me.” He held out his hand commanding. ly. A wonderful change had come over him, His face had regained Ma calm. It was proud, stern. (TO BE CONTINUED) We lived so joyously to- | Everything was perfect, & | You—" | ©0-0000000000000000000000000 Woman Protects Dog As She Kills Self San Francisco.—Before Mrs. Pearl Alspaugh turned on the gas and lay down to die, she took precaution that her pet dog should survive. When G. O. Alspaugh, her hus- band, employed at night in a laundry, returned home, he found his wife dead from the gas fumes. The dog also was uncon- scious, but later was resusci- tated. Alspaugh could ascribe no rea- son for the suicide save that his wife had been in ill health. 0-00-00000000000000000000000 MAKES QUEER DEAL FOR GIRL OF 13 Trade Involved Four Mules and Log Cabin. Hopkinsville, Ky.—A queer bargain of the hill country, in which a thir- teen-year-old girl was bartered as a bride for four mules, a log cabin and a wagon, has been revealed to author- ities here. An investigation resulted in the ar- rest of the girl's father, Henry Gibbs, on a charge of converting the property of another. Some weeks ago Edward Green of Detroit, father of four children by a former marriage, took thirteen-year- old Louise Gibbs of Cadiz, Ky. and married her, showing the clerk a letter purporting to be from her father, giv- ing parental consent. Gibbs said the letter was forged. He threatened Green with criminal action. The parental wrath supsided, however, when Green gave his new father-in- law two teams of mules, a wagon and a log cabin. Louise, a slim child weighing about 100 pounds, quickly tired of married life and left her husband at Detroit, returning here to relatives. Green, is forty-three years old, ten years his father-in-law’s senior. Green pursued his child bride here and when she refused to return to Detroit with him, he demanded back his peace offering—only to find that Gibbs had sold mules, wagon and all for $325. Gibbs thereupon had Green arrested on a charge of forging the letter of permission under which the marriage was performed. Green made peace in some way, and the charge was with- drawn. Then he turned around and had Gibbs arrested for selling the wagon and mules. The case is to be investigated by the county grand jury. Girl, 3, Killed by Bear Which Breaks Into Home Winnipeg. — The three-year-old- daughter of Fred Grorricicuk, Low- land, Man., was killed there recently when a large black bear, driven out of the neighboring bush by fire and hunger, broke into the Grorricicuk home and carried off the little girl. Leaving her three children in the house, Mrs. Grorricicuk had taken her husband's supper out to him in the fields. When she returned she found the front door of the house battered in and the children missing. Crying to her husband, she rushed around to the back of the house and out into the yard, where she found the body of the little girl, The other two children, seven and four years of age, had run to a neigh- boring farm, where it was learned later from the eldest child that the bear had attacked her first, but she had eluded it and, with her younger sister, had fled from the house, Dies Among Strangers as Relatives Hunt Him Raymond, Wash.—John Carlson, six- ty-one, Naselle, Wash., died among strangers and was buried as an un- known only a few miles from rela- tives bending every effort to locate him. He left Astoria, came here and reg- istered at a local hotel. The clerk, in signing for him, wrote “John Koski” by mistake, The next day he was found dead in the room from natural causes. His long stay from home caused anxiety in his family and a search was made, Trailing him to the hotel, Arthur Carlson identified the clothing of the dead man as that of his father. Bandit Is Chivalrous When Widow Is Victim St. Louis, Mo.—Chivalry on the part of a bandit saved Mrs. Caroline Bald- win, a widow, of this city, from the loss of her money, “Surely you wouldn’t rob a poor de- fenseless widow,” she exclaimed when tie culprit walked into her confec- tionery store and brandished a pistol in her face. “So you're a widow?” he replied, haltingly. “No I couldn’t rob you then,” He walked from the store. Golfer Drives in Ditch; Ball Kills Big Snake Fayetteville, Ark.—W. M. McRoy of Fayetteville killed a snake with a golf ball. McRoy drove and followed the i ball into a small ravine. A snake, sev- eral feet long, was in its death wrig- gle, The ball had struck it square- ly in the head and administered the fatal blow. ATWATER KENT RADIO SCREEN-GRID I BATTERY... OR HOTS CORSE 1 ELECTRO-DYNAMIC Tune in, sit back and listen—2,500,000 have done it! No time out for trouble...no lost programs... in the millions of homes that boast Atwater Kent Radio. 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Two Articles Easily Made and Sold ans where, paid our expenses from Pennsylvania to California. Formula, instructions $1.00, George Poole, Box 1153, Ventura, California. His Modest Conclusion The great trouble with the people who don't like us is that they have such poor taste.—Los Angeles Times. If a man wants to show off he has certain advantages away from home, MY BEGINNER'S BOOK will enable your child to read. My youngest pupil of 2 years 8 months recites real lessons. Copy b0c. SAMUEL HOWARD, COLUMBUS, IND. Now Everybody Is Happy Dentist—And will you take laughing gas? Patient—I should smile. Never was a king crowned that didn’t think he deserved it. Hitting on All Eight! Doctor Gives Hint to Lucky Salesman T’S a wise man that knows when heisslipping. Mr. R.F, Myers of 711 Rosedale Street, Baltimore, had the good for- tune to get his tip straight from one of his doctor custom- ers (he was selling for a phar- maceutical house) and since that lucky visit he has increas ed his business 50 per cent. For two years he had been driving from town to town, and naturally this threw his elimination out of shape. He felt himself slipping. Cathartics only made him worse. Then one day he was calling on a wise old physician, and asked his advice. “What you need, my boy,” said the doctor, “is a simple, easy, normal way to clean the poisons out of your system—we all have them— and with your kind of work they certainly cut down efficiency. Why don’t you try Nujol?” #Well, believe it or not,” says Mr. Myers, “in a few days I felt like a new man. ‘What's got into you? asked the home office, ‘your busie ness has increased 50 per cent! 22 That's the great thing about Nujol. As soon as it begins to clean the poisons out of your system it makes you feel so well that you can almost always do a much better job. Nujol is not a medicine and cone tains no drugs. It is perfectly harme less, forms no habit. It is simply bodily lubrication, which everybody needs. You, like everybody else! Why put off good health any longer? Go into any good drug store and get a bottle of Nujol in a sealed package. Costs so little and means so much! Maybe you can increase your efficiency 50 per cent too Try this treatment for pimples! ANOINT WITH Cuticura @intment After @ while bathe gently with Cuticura Soap and bot water. You will find nothing better for soothing and healing all forms of skin troubles. Ointment 25¢. and 50c, Soap 25c. Talcum 25¢. S Sample each free. Address: **Cuticura,” Dept. B7, Malden, Mass. Pie ————————— THE FEA ) 1 ] ) SHUCKS MORE N BLY TO (F THERE LANDING ON MA 1 (Copyright, W. N. UY"% rE LL hy MICKIE, ° WERE CON CHAMPION FISTED Tl Clancy At That Rate | Take a Gr for a Ka A Ge By SS B PERCY L. 1® by the MeClure N
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers