n "
THE 8EMLWEEKLY TRIBUNE, NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA.
4l
ll '
II,
1 1
H
The
Una
"ww"i"ii'wwww"i
This story epltomlzeo, In the life
of one big man, his bg foes and
big friends, the strife, the hopes,
and the aspirations of modern
America. Involved with hlo ambi
tion lo the ambition of tho laborer,
of the capitalist, of the progres
sive, of the humanitarian, of the
socialist, of the society woman,
and of the woman who gives all
for love.
CHAPTER I.
Dreams.
Ho drifted Into the delectnblo land
that lies botwoon Bleep and waking,
tasting tho fleeting savor of his dreams
tho oplc visions of full-blooded youth.
They had passed just beyond memory,
loavlng a confused yet glowing sense
of sharp combats waged, of victories
won. A. golden hazo enveloped him.
Through It filtered a dwindling reso
nance, an of Homo noblo processional
eung by a dopartlng far-distant choir.
A wave of delight rippled over him.
Then tho thought that, not sharing his
slumber, had painted his colorful
dreams, worked to tho surface.
"My last day hero!"
Ho nwoko Blo,wly. Boforo him, seen
through tho unshuttorod window, lay a
world somber enough to ono tugglpg
against Its restraints, lovely when It
was to bo loft behind. Ho Baw tho
Soptcmber sun poop over tho hills at
tho head of tho valloy, rlso majestic
ally and swing cloar, a golden disk
hung In tho sky, symbol of tho reward
of men's struggles; Its radiance,
streaming Into tho little room, dis
pelled shabblness with a mollow glow
Uo could almost feol. Tho matin
sounds aroso, according finely with tho
lingering echoes of his dream music.
Ho rovolod in a now perception.
Ho was twenty yoars old.
Ho was not ono to loll. Ho sprang
from bed and stood naked; supple
beautiful youth, too slondor for great
strength but with tho unconscious
graco of tho wild animal.
Ho dressed and stood by tho window
In tho attitude of a listener. Intently
Lo sought to doflno tho faint other
world rosonnnco that still soomod to
vibrato about him. But tho thomo
eluded him.
Hlii illusion was effectually shat
tered. Into tho subdued melody of the
Sabbath morning thrust a profano In
truder, tho Jerky whoozlng notes of a
cabinet organ In tho day'B hymns,
played by somo ono who aspired be
yond endowment.
Ho frowned, then throw back his
hoad nnd laughod sllontly a trick ho
tiad sometimes at tho absurd anti
climax. "I'm etlll In Bethol. It's a long way
irorn heto to thoro." Ho drew a long
Joop breath.
A question halted him. "Thoro
whero?
He shook his hoad vigorously, as
though to throw off tho query, and
wont down to tho kitchen,
Tho' Qilor of frying ham saluted his
nostrllBj ho sniffed it hungrily. A man,
apparently old, was placing heavy,
chipped Ironwaro dishes on tho tublo.
2Io nodded briefly in response to tho
youth's hlltho grootlng.
"I'll be ready," ho eald in a dull flat
volco, "timo yo'ro back from tho
tablo," and continued hla slow precise
sotting of tho tablo.
In a fow mlnutos the pthor returned,
tho horses fed and his own hands and
faco scrubbed In cold water from tho
clotorn. Thqy sat down without speak
ing. Tho youth nto oagorly, guiplngly.
Whou tho first koonncse of appetite
was gone, burning to talk of tho groat
lour at hund, ho broko tho sllonco.
"Well, father, this is my last day In
Dothcl."
Tho old roan moroly noddod, keoplng
his eye on his plato.
BoylBhly tho son bogan to sot forth
jjalB planB and hopes and expectations;
thoy wore not Bmall. Dut tho old man
maintained bis sllonco. Tho youth con
volved him to bo au unsympathetic au
dience. "Qucss you'ro not lnterostod," ho
aid a trifle Bulklly.
"Yes, I'm interested, Mark," tho fa
ther answered, "but thoro ain't any
thing to fay." Ho raised his glnnco to
tho window. "Guess I couldn't Bay
anything (htt'd help much."
Tho Bwooy pf tho youth's anticipa
tion fultoroa boforo a quality In tho
old man's ords. Old, "old Simon;"
o his neighbors callod him. Yot ha
"was not really old, but In tho noonday
pf life woro tho gray mantle of ago.
For he, too, bad dreamed his big gold
a dreams. Dolow tho village stood a
dismantled rotting forgo, monument
to their futility. After his falluro ho
lhad roturned to his shop and trado,
hoeing his neighbors' horses, mend
ing their wagons and plows, a dull
'ayed, taciturn, spiritless plodder.
Simon Truttt roso and bogan to
clear tho table. Tho son moved toward
tho door. Thoro ho paused, vaguely
eixilblo of a sorrow to which somo
toothing word was to bo Bald, But
tho word would not como to lips un
schooled In such tender olllce. Ho went
lowly out lot U.w suushluo,
Ambition f Mark Traitt
, By HENRY RUSSELL MILLER
Author of
'THE MAN HIGHER UP," "HIS RISE TO POWER," Etc
(Copyright. 1913. by The
In tho stable ho curried tho horses,
lingering ovor tho protty brown rnuro
latest and finest trophy of his horee
trading until hor coat shono satiny.
This labor of lovo ended, ho lighted a
pipe and sat In tho stable doorway.
Ho sat thoro until from across the
town camo a flat unmusical clamor,
tho cracked church bell calling the
faithful that Is to say, all Bethel savo
ono to worship. Ho rose reluctantly.
Soon ho omerged from tho llttlo house,
shaved to tho blood and clad In tho dis
comfort of Sunday clothes.
Always on warm Sabbath mornings
Simon Trultt whs to bo found sitting
on tho stoop, nnd always facing tho
north; tho dismantled forgo lay to tho
south. Ho was that ono for whom tho
cracked bell tolled In vain; ho was
suppbtiod to boan" atheist.
"Goln' to church?" ho nsked In the
expressionless tono that was his habit
"I guess so," answered Mark. "Un
less," with suddon understanding,
"you'd like mo to stay."
Simon hesitated, then shook his
head. "No, yo'd hotter go samo aB al
ways. Courtnoy'd want yo to."
"I owo him a lot."
Simon nodded. "Moro'n to anyone
olso hero. Think a good deal o' him,
don't yo?"
"Y08. Somotlmos he's kind o' queer,
though."
Simon nodded again. "D'yo," ho
asked unexpectedly, "d'yo bollovo what
ho preaches?"
"Why, yes!" eald Mark. "Yes, I
a'poso so," ho amended.
Tho dull glnnco momentarily sharp
ened. "Not very much, I expect. Bet
tor bollovo It hard or not at all. It's
most tlmo fur church."
Mark swung hoavlly down tho path.
Tho father's oyes followed him wlBt
fully. Mark Joined tho straggling proces
sion that moved, stiffly decorous, to
ward tho house of worship. Onco, dur
ing tho short Journey, a Bpring wagon
overtook and passed him; a girl In the
rear seat turned nnd nodded. A wave
of red surged Into his dark faco. Until
tho wagon drove Into tho churchyard,
his glance clung to tho masB of yellow
hair under tho pink hat. Unconscious
ly his stop quickened.
Ho found an ompty pow near tho
door, and entering, leaned back, half
closing his oyra. Ho followed the con
gregation ns It roso and sat In hymn
and prayer and losson; but ho moved
mechanically, without thought of wor
ship. Ills glanco sought tho far cor
ner whero a shaft of morning sun-
shlno had set a mass of yollow hair
ashlmmorlng. Tho sight nnd his
dreams gavo him a now and daring re
solve. Tho hour sped swiftly.
Ho wont quietly from tho church; In
tho yard ho took a station by which
tho farmer folk rauBt pass to their ve
hicles and thoro, ns he had resolved,
boldly, In tho oyes of nil, ho waited for
hor.
Sho appeared, a slender girl who, ns
she moved slowly around .tho church,
wovo n spell ovor tho botrousored por-
"To the
For Good?"
tlon of nethel, oven whero sho had not
tho subtle aid of dreams. Sho was not
small, but, neatly made, gavo an effect
of daintiness not characteristic of tho
mulds of that valloy. Unity was sup
posed to be "delicate," honco was
apnrcd Hiobo arduous tasks that leavo
so llttlo tlmo to study of beauty hints
and faBhlouB. It thoro were somo to
suggost that "Squlro Martin's family
lot Unity mako fools of 'em," at leaet
no males woro among these critics.
Solf-conBclouB to tho finger-tips but
not betraying It, she picked hor dainty
way among tho gossiping groups, toss
ing gay llttlo Bmlles to thlu and that
Intoxicated youth, blissfully deaf to an
occasional fomlnlno titter in her wake.
She enmo to a halt beside Mark,
looklutr u with a smllo that niatlo him
forget curious obsorvers.
"Good morning, Mark!"
"Unity!" His volco was low, tenso,
ns though ho announced some tragic
happening. "I'm going away tomor
row." Tho vlvnclty fell from hor faco, loav
lug it very eorlous.
i "To tho city? For good?"
BfM4 ,. J
"To the City?
Bobba - MerrM Company)
"To tho city.
"I am glad."
For good
"Glad!" ho stammered. "I thought
I wanted you to bo sorry."
"Yes," sho nodded emphatically
"I'm glad for you," sho added more
softly.
no romalncd silent, an unreasoning,
indoflnito disappointment lingering.
Something ho wanted ho could not
say what was lacking in her words.
"Aren't you glud?"
"Yes, but" Ho dismissed the
doubt. His eagerness returned. "I'm
going driving this afternoon."
Sho becamo girlish again. "Is that
an invitation?" with a demuro little
smile.
"If you want to go."
"Of course, Mister Solemn! Aren't
you " Sho stopped, apparently over
come with confusion for her boldness.
"Say It!" ho besought thirstily.
There was a delicious moment of un
certainty, a breathless little laugh.
"My lover. Thoro! I'll bo waiting
for you, just after dinner." And tho
butterfly fluttered away.
Ho went from tho churchyard and
followed tho street past tho point
whore It returned to Its natlvo stato of
dusty, weed-flanked, country pike. He
came to a place whero tho road roso
sharply and fell again. Mounting to
tho crest, ho throw himself on tho
roadside and waited; thither Richard
Courtney would como on tho after
service walk that was his custom.
Up tho rlso, village-bound, leisurely
creaked an ancient top buggy. In it
slouched a middle-aged man upon
whoso faco were written humor and
patience, qualities of which he had
great need just then. His horse la
bored heavily at its task, head hang
ing low; not the bellowB In Simon
Trultt's smithy puffed louder or hard
or. At tho crest it stopped without
urging. Mark frowned Impatiently.
Then ho noted tho sad stato of the
horso and a grin displaced the frown.
"Hear you'ro going away," "Doc"
Hodges remarked. "For tho good of
tho town?"
Mark nodded, tho grin widening.
"Maybe you'd Hko to help pay my
faro?"
"I have helped," tho doctor rejoined
dryly. "Going to get rich, ain't you7
They nil think that."
"It happens somotlmes."
"You might, though. Any man ought
to get rich that could sell me this
would you call It a horse?"
"Hmm!" Mark considered tho ani
mal Judicially. "Woll, it has four
legs." '
"So'b a billy goat," drawled tho doc
tor. "Goat'd bo more uso to mo, too."
"What did you buy it for, then?"
"I ain't squoallng. Pretty slick cus
tomer, ain't you?"
Tho grin roturned. "I can soil
horses," Mark modestly admitted, "to
some people."
"Humph! Only a fool'd buy 'em of
you," tho doctor agreed. "What'H you
tako for tho brown mare?"
"Tho brown maro Isn't for sale."
"Any horso Ib for sale," tho doctor
Insisted, "at tho right price. Glvo you
a hundred and fifty."
"I wouldn't sell her for two-flfty."
Tho doctor Blghod and clucked to
tho weary horso.
Out of tho dusty cloud trailing be
hind tho creaky buggy emerged a tall
stooping flguro, clad In tho rusty black
of tho country clergyman. Ho walked
slowly, and when ho camo to tho rise,
with a slight offort; ovidontly ho was
a Irnll man physically. At tho crest
ho stopped, breathing hard.
"Taking a good-by look at It?" ho
nskod between breathe.
"No. Just waiting for you,"
'lho preacher smiled faintly; tho
worn dispirited face lighted up a lit
tle. Ho turned his glanco to tho val
loy. "lt'8 worth a farowell. You'll bo
homesick for It sometimes I hope.
Shnll wo walk a bit farthor?"
At his lagging pace thoy tramped
along tho road, constantly rlBlng and
descending but nlways reaching up to-
wnnl a hlglior level. They kept tho
frank silence of thoso who have been
companions often.
Ten years boforo Richard Courtney
had resigned tho city congregation
that wub steadily withering undor his,
ministry nnd hnd como to shopherd tho"
llttlo flock of Bethel, It proved to bo a
llfo sontence, but In tho end ho stayed,
If not gladly, at least with such Chris
tian fortitude as a quivering sonsltlvo
bouI could eummon; having found so
ho put It a neod to which ho could
mtnlBter. In tho.early days of IiIb now
servlco ho had discovered a neglected,
unlettered, moody youngster suffer
ing under the blight of his relation to
Simon Trultt, who, for his supposed
atheism, was accounted a llttlo less
than rospcctnble. Somo quality In tho
boy caught tho preacher's fancy. Tact
fully ho sought to win into Mark's
heart, not a Very difficult task onco tho
lad learned that ministerial conversa
tion was not confined to graphic pic
tures of otornal tormont. And then,
not qulto realizing how this now Inter
est eked out tho Christian fortltudo
just mentioned, ho set about to mako
Mark ovor. From Richard Courtnoy
tho blacksmith's son had had his Ver
gil and Xenophon and Homer, his
Euclid and Quackenbos. What may
have been best of all, ho had had Rich
ard Courtnoy.
In tho Intense, Imaginative quick
brained lad Courtney thought ho dis
cerned a rnro spirit fitted to bo a
chevalier of tho Lord, a fighter of
others' battles, a bearer of others' bur
dens; thus wo may read what Richard
Courtnoy would have made his own
life. He, tho exile, hnd failod; but in
the larger llfo from which ho had been
banished ho would live again and bo
felt through a flno strong man of hlB
making. For ton years ho had Jeal
ously surveyed tho prospect, patiently
tolled nnd prayed that It might bo.
But now, whon the day for which ho
had prepared was come, ho was not
"That's Where the Doctor Wants to
Build His Sanatorium."
happy. The question continually re
curred. How well had he builded?
With suddenly clarified vision he bo
held the youth at his side, raw, un
shaped, tho reaches of his soul aa yot
unllghtod by purpose, unwarmed by
Inspiration. After ten years' he was
almost aB Richard Courtnoy had found
him.
"I have scoured the windows. I
cannot give tho light," thought the
preacher aadly.
He became aware that Mark had
broken tho silence. "I I owo you a
lot," ho had said.
"Not very much," Courtney sighed.
"I wish it were more much moro."
"Oh, yea, it is much. You've taught
mo to read and talk and and think."
Courtney repressed an unhappy smllo.
"You've mado me soo big. You'vo
got mo ready to go away from hero.
I I appreciate It."
"I'd rather you could see true. But
must you go?" Tho plea was without
spirit; he knew its uselessness.
"There's a llfo to bo lived hero, oven
by a man who sees big. I wish you
would stay, at least for a while."
"No, I must go now. I've a reason
you don't know."
The preacher felt a Jealous pang. '
After a while ho said. "Did you by
any chanco hear my sermon this morn
ing?" Mark looked away, uncomfortable.
"Only nart of It. I was thinking protty
hard."
"Of yollow braids and a pretty com
plexion," Courtney said to himself bit
terly. Mark was frowning in an effort to
recall and piece together detached
phrases that had floated to him dur
ing tho servlco and then, finding no
welcome, floated away. "It was about,"
ho said hosltatlngly, "it was about a
man finding his big Idea."
"I am flattorod." Tho dry droll In
flection was a concealment
"Tho big Idea," said Mark vaguely,
"does It mean God?"
"It's His way of lifting tho world
forward. It's " Courtney stopped
abruptly, with a hopeless smile. Ho
looked away across tho hllle.
Suddenly, with nn oddly appealing
gesturo, ho turned again to Mark. All
tho Intenso longing of tho man who
has dreamed and failed and yet clung
to somo fragment of his hope, paint
ing his vision, breathed In his words.
"Somo day you may remember I
told you. It's tho big purpose that
sometimes comes to tho bi, paselon
ato man, to accomplish somo work for
its own sake; that grips him, drives
him, makes him ruthless to his own
doBlres, forgetful of his failures and
blind to everything but hla task; that
transforms him into a narrow zealot,
a fanatic, but a power always a
powor, because ho la his purposo In
enrnato. It is that without which tho
big man Is wasted, because ho Is that
dangerous, usoloss thing, a forco un
controlled. . . . It's what I wanted
you to havo."
Mark stared. "I I'm afraid I don't
understand."
"And I," Courtnoy cried, "I can't
make you understand! But you will
know, whon it comos to you." Tho
flro began to dlo from his eyes and
volpo. "If It comes," ho addod.
For a while Mark considered per
plexedly this outburst. Then ho dis
missed It ns ono of tho incomprehen
sible momonts of a man whom, do
eplto oddities, ho Ukod very raueh. Ho
returned to the thought that had led
to the moment.
A llttlo timidly ho mado tho offer.
"I'm going to leavo tho brown maro
with you, if you'd Hko hor."
"It's good of you to think of It But
you can bcII her well. And you'll neod
tho money."
"I know. But I want you to havo
her. I traded to get hor for you."
Courtnoy would not spoil his pleas
ure. "Of courso, I " His acceptance
halted. "No, glvo her to Dr. Hedges."
Mark shook his head. "I want you
to havo her."
"Ho needs a good horse. Tho ono
ho has "
"It was a fair trade," Mark asserted
defensively.
A turn of tho road brought thorn
within eight of a great hill that Btood
across tho valloy. Over its lovol top
swept breezes filtered puro through
many leagues of forest. "Hedges hill"
tho vlllngo called It, finding humorous
matter therein.
Courtnoy pointed. "That Is whero
the doctor wants to build his sanato
rium for consumptives."
'l know. He's cracked over that.
He'll never do It."
"Perhaps not. It would bo too bad.
It," Courtnoy added quietly, "la his
big Idea."
Mark looked long at tho hill, as
though from tho slto of tho sanato
rium in Spain might bo gleaned some
hint of tho meaning of tho "big idea."
After a while he said slowly, "Would
you really rather ho'd havo the maro?"
CHAPTER II.
The Path of Youth.
Had Richard Courtnoy thought
look back to his own adolcscbnco,
to
he
might havo understood his failure.
Mark, whoso life, tho preacher sup
posed, was to bo mado over by many
books and sermons on purpose, unself
ishness and clean living, was in fact
seeing a miraclo of qulto another sort
unfold within him.
Companionship, once sought, had
suddenly becoino distasteful. Ho was
happy only when wandering alono In
tho woods, Idla gun on shoulder, or
drifting lazily in his canoe.
After a period, during which his
body shot up to its full height, whole
some toll and study busied his
thoughts and Richard Courtney began
to nurture vain hopes, occurred an
event of no small Importance to many
young gentlemen of Bethel. Unity
Martin, proud possessor of a diploma
declaring to thoso who cared to pe
ruse that sho had mastered certain
arts, camo homo to exhibit in all its
perfection the product of education.
Ho was returning late from an aft
ernoon's hunt in the woods behind
the Martin farm, when ho unexpected
ly came upon her one autumn day.
Sho waB standing on a little knob, gaz
ing absently into the fading sky. His
over-ready imagination was touched.
In the dusk, the pale glow of the dying
day upon her, her pensiveness and ap
parent frailty gave her a seeming of
soulfulness that abashed him, moved
him strangely. He thought ho behold
ono far finer and purer than any of
tho clayey creatures his life had
touched. She saw him and smiled
faintly. That smile put him In an
agony of confusion and awkwardness.
Because ho did not know how to de
part, he found himself walking homo
with hor, and when sho praised tho
pheasants Blung over his shoulder, on
a sudden glad impulse he gave to
her and she quite naturally nccopted
tho trophy of his hunt. This was a
prophecy, but he was no seer.
It was long before ho lost that im
pression of her, tho frail spirit-like
girl of tho dusk, oven though riper
acquaintance might havo taught him
that she was indeed a dweller upon
tho earth. Ho whispered her namo to
himself, thinking it finest poetry. His
desire to "do something" became a
burning impatience to do largo nnd
splendid deeds that would provo his
mettle. Ho was, in a word, a boy who
thought himself in lovo.
Came a night, a still winter's night
when moonlight gleamed on the snow
and tho chimes of slolghbellB added
to the enchantment, when ho kissed
hor, with a sense of sacrilege and sho
did not resist.
No wonder, then, Richard Courtney
preached purposo In vain! Ills pupil's
horizon was filled with a purposo not
his own. Even tho preacher's incom
prehensible outburst was forgotten, as
tho boy went to his tryst that Sabbath
afternoon.
For a mile ho drove carefully and
then, letting out the mare, with a
flourish of spoed drew up before tho
houso of Squlro Martin. It was tho
most pretentious in tho valley.
Soon Unity appeared, fresh and
dainty in her white dross and pink
hat, followed by her sister Susan
bearing a heavy pasteboard box. While
Mark awkwardly helped his lady Into
tho buggy, Susan slipped tho box un
dor tho Boat Mark got In and the
brown mare, noodlng no command,
started away.
"I put up eomo lunch," Susan callod
aftor them. "Don't forget to eat It!"
"And bo," breathed Unity, "you're
really going away at last! How did
you happen to dccldo to go Just now?"
"I don't know. It Just camo to mo
tho other day that I couldn't stay horo
any longer. Somehow, over since wo
bogan to talk of tho city, this placo
has scorned so small and shut In until
UiIb morning."
' "Until this morning?" In some
alarm.
"Then It soomod kind o' cozy and
and protected. I hato to leavo It. I
hato to leavo you, Unity."
"And I'll hato to havo you go. But,
of courso, you roust. And then, be
fore very long, you'll como back and
tako mo away with you."
For a while in sllonco thoy gave
thla prospect tho considoratlon It de
served. Thon:
"Oh, Unity, how can you lovo mo
so?"
Sho was ablo to answer him on this
point in a way to satisfy him and yet
loavo him humbly grateful for hla
vast good fortune. '
Tho shadows wero qulto long wheal
thoy espied a great flat rock In o
clearing a llttlo way from tho road.i
And there, In a delicious intimacy that
thoy solemnly asserted was but a fore
taste, thoy remembered to eat tho
lunch put up by tho thoughtful Susan.
Afterward they spent a rapturous
hour watching the sun glide down to
moot tho hills.
Sho broko a long silence to say,
dreamily, "You'ro going to bo very
rich, aren't you?"
Ho laughed. "Maybe. It isn't al
ways so easy to got rich, you know."
"But everybody bays you will."
"Everybody In Bethel may not
know." Thon ho added firmly, "But-1
will for you. And then "
Ho got down from tho rock and
lifted his nrms to her. Sho stood un
certain, looking down at him. Tho
glow of tho sunset was still upon
her; in her eyes was another glow,
from within, for him.
Sho measured tho distanco to tho
ground it was almost her own height
then, with a gasp for hor daring, sho
sprang Into his arms. Ho caught hdT
and held her, kissing her again and
again, thirstily. Sho began to respond;
hor arms tightened around his neck;
Bho clung very close.
Sho cried tremulously, "Oh, Mark,
you won't forget mo out there. I I
couldn't bear that."
"I will not forgot."
A last bright shaft reflected from,
tho crimson west flooded their llttlo
clearing, fell upon her. And that was.
tho picture of hor ho carried "out
there" Unity In tho sunset glow,
oyes and cheeks aflame with love, de
siring him only and not that ho would
win.
v
"Llttlo late, ain't yo?" Simon greet
ed Mark. But there was no roprooC
in the words, and no question; ho as
sumed no right to pry into hie son's
affairs.
"I've been taking a drive," Mark
nnswored.
Simon rose and went into the pan
try. Ho returned, carrying a pitcher
of milk and a plate piled high with
buttered bread.
"I kept this ready fur ye. Thought
yo might bo hungry."
Mark was not hungry, but ho ato
with a show of great relish. Somo in
stinct told him not to decline this.
llttlo service.
"Guess ye'ro purty glad to git away
from hero?"
In tho morning Mark would havo
answered with an unqualified "Yes."
Now ho said, "I am and I'm not"
He drew a long breath that was al
most a sigh. "It's like going In swim
ming in April."
"Ye'ro right to go," Simon 'said. "L
wouldn't want yo to stay. There ain't
any prospect fur a young man round
here."
He roso, and going to,tho cupboard,
fumbled among the dishes. When ho
returned, ho laid before Mark a worn
"If You Ever Get Rich Come Back.
Here and Build a Steel Plant."
pocketbook of leather. Mark opened'
It and glanced at Its contents.
Ho looked up questlonlngly. "Why,
thoro must bo" 'most a thousand dol
lars!" "Jest that. I'vo been savin' It fur
ye."
Impulsively Mark pushed It backi
toward Simon. "But I can't tako it
It won't leavo you anything, and I
don't need It I've got moro'n flvo
hundred of my own."
"I'd ruther yo'd tako it," Simon in
sisted heavily. "It'll come In handy.
If yo don't need It, ye can find a safe
placo fur It An' ye can pay It back.
If yo over git rich. I," he repeated,
"I'vo bo'n savin' It fur yo. I knowed
yo'd go away somo day an' I wantod
yo to tako somothln' frum me."
Mark's hand went slowly to tho
pocketbook. "All right, father." Tho
words fell awkwardly. "I'll pay It
back somo day. And thank you."
"Ye'ro quite welcome," answored1
Simon with quaint formality. J
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Fishes That Emit Sounds.
Thero Is a fish In the Tagus that
omits sounds resembling tho vibra
tions of a deep-toned bell, gong or
pedal plpo of an organ. Herrings,
when tho not has been drawn around
thorn, havo been observed to do thoi
same, and similar nccounla are given
of the river bullhead. An amphibious
sllurold fish on being taken Into tho
hand, is said to shriek, and certain of
tho blennles emit similar sounds,
Field. I
Klllllllfll
KBIIf'13
In 'HfimvM!WB-'f"lii
i
