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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (June 30, 1910)
TAVERNAY I A Tale of the Red Terror BY BURTON E. STEVENSON. Author of “Tho Marathon Mystery,” "The Holladay Case,” "A Soldier of Virginia,” etc. Copyrighted. 190#. by Burton E. Stevenson. - --- ---- CHAPTER II.—(Continued.) I watched until his pursuers reached the grove and plunged Into It, then I tied my horse to the tree and re sumed my seat beneath Its branches, for I was curious to see the end of this •ncounter. My sympathies were wholly with the fugitive. Whatever the mer its of the case, so gallant a dash for liberty deserved to be successful. And yet he could scarcely hope to escape, with 20 men at his heels. Once a chorus of frantic yells came to me from the grove, and I thought for a time that the chase was ended. But the moments passed and I saw no sign of either the fugitive or his pursuers. Perhaps he had eluded them, after all; or perhaps they were push ing across the country after him. In either event. It was useless for me to tarry longer; it was time for me to be getting forward If I wanted to reach Chatellerault, as I had planned, by nightfall. Only I should have liked to ■ay goodby to Sergeant Dubosq. Thera was about the man a fascination, an *lr of deviltry that pleased me. Per haps, at another time, I might even have found myself listening to his words; but now— "Sit still, monsieur,” said a low voice just behind me and I started round to And myself looking down the long barrel of a pistol just above which gleamed two eyes blue and (Old as steel, "I was moved to shoot you,” he went on evenly, “as the shortest way out, but after all, I am pot a murderer. I will give you one chance. I must have your horse. Give me your word of honor to sit there quietly and you are safe; re luse," and he made a menacing Ut ile motion with his pistol. There could be no doubting his earnestness. One glance at the reso lute and Implacable countenance con vinced me that Its owner would not hes itate to shoot me down. Hut to lose my horse— “Come," he said, “decide quickly. Faith, the choice ought not to be dif ficult!" and he laughed grimly. "Take the horse, monsieur," I said In a vun.:v irmumuiH wjui mgu uim ina grin; "but my hour will come.” He laughed again, put up his pistol and came out upon the road. Am I watched him untie my horse. ( realized suddenly all that this loss would mean to me, and a blind Im pulse seized me to rush upon him and run him through. I think I must have yielded to It. In spite of my passed word, had he not seemed to trust It so Implicitly. For he. even turned his back to me as he bent to adjust tho ■tlrrups. He seemed In no hurry—Indeed, I was apparently far more excited than he— and I had time to admire the erect fig ure, the easy carriage, the grace of movement. Dubosq had spoken truly When he remarked that no one could mistake me for this finished cavalier. He sprang to the saddlo with superb unconcern and paused for a look about him. He was even humming a song. “Ah, there they come." he said, and following his eye. I saw Dubosq and his men burst from the grove am! come charging across tho field. “At lust they have discovered how I eluded them! Awkward loutB! Adieu, monsieur." “Till we meet again!" I corrected. He laughed blithely. "As you will," he said, and gathered up the reins. "Whither are you bound?" he added, turning back to me. "To Poitiers,” I answered. "Then we may Indeed meet again,” and waving his hand to hla enemies, who by this time were very near, he set spurt to llank anil gulloyid away down the road. A shower of bullets followed him, but he kept on apparently unhurt, and in a moment more was out of gun •hot. Dubosq came panting up, bis men at his heels. He was fairly livid. He stopped for an instant to shuke hla fist at the cloud of dust far down the road. Then he turned to me. “Traitor!" he cried hoarsely. "Aris tocrat!” And I saw how the great veins stood out across his forehead, ".'to you had the effrontery to wait for me!" "Assuredly," I replied, as calmly as 1 could, "since you requested it." He glared at me for a moment with bloodshot eyes. Then he turned to his men. "Secure him!” he said. "We will lei him espouse Madame Guillotine.’’ And before I could open my lips tc protest, my hands were lashed behind me. For the horse was not all that 1 hac lost. In the holsters of tho saddle wo: a pair of handsome pistols which hac belonged to my father, and In the port manteau strapped behind It an array c; gallant clothing such as 1 had novel possessed before and would In all like lihood never again possess. As to re plenishing my purse, 1 rememberei viui iw dcuu'ii now my motner r. a I pinched herself for months to providi me with tills outfit. No. decidedly, tc repair this misfortune, I had only m; own prowess to depend upon, and am free to say that it was not of i quality greatly to enhcurtrn me. Cor tainly, my llrst adventure in the worli had ended most disastrously. So I trudged on, looking neither b the right nor to the left, turning nv misfortune over in my mind, and re calling the good points of my horsi tlie comfort of my saddle, and the beau ties of my wardrobe, as u starving nia: will picture to liimself the savory de tails of some banquet he has enjoyed i happier days. And I almost found it i my heart to regret that I had not strut the robber down in that moment whe he had dared to turn his back upo me. There were a few peoplo on the root but such as I met stared at me curious ly, evidently unable to understand ho it was that a young fellow so ga lantly arrayed should be footing through the dust with sour counti nance. This, of course, served only 1 Increase my Bpleen, and ended in m pulling my hat over my eyes and trudf ing on without glancing up, even i the rustle of a petticoat. 1 know m how great a distance I covered in th fashion, but at last the sun, rislr high in the heavens, beat down upc me with such ardor that my head hi gun to swim dizzily. So I looked aboi for shelter, and seeing just uhoad i me a little cluster of mean house hastened my steps in the hope thi there might be an inn among them. So, indeed, there proved to b But when 1 came to the thresho of the low. ill smelling room, dai almost as a dungeon, even in fi day, I hesitated, for I was arrm only with sword and dagger and was impossible to see what lay wit: in. Decidedly, 1 had no wish to lo my purse and perhaps my life as we for the sake of a bottle of bad win But a gay voice encouraged me. "Enter monsieur," it called, was awaiting you.” And as my eyes grew somewhat a | customed to the darkness. I descried. I seated at a table in one corner, my enemy, my despoiler, smiling at me as though he were my dearest friend. "Come,” he added, "Join me," and such was the wlzurdry of his voice and the gesture which accompanied It, that, whatever my reluctance, I could not but obey. "What is your name, monsieur?" he asked, as I took the seat opposite his, and he smiled again as he caught my glance. "Jean do Tavernay,” I answered, “and, monsieur, I have to say to you “One mo nt ” he broke in, holding up his hand. "My name, perhaps, you have already heard." “Yes, If you are who the republicans said you were.” “And that wus?” “One M. do Eavras.” "They are not at your heels?" "No, they returned to Tours.'* "Disappointed?" "Extremely so." He laughed, then grew suddenly sober In knitted his brows In thought, which I somehow dared not Interrupt. After all, there wus no cause for haste. He could not escape me. "It looked like a trap," he said at last. "It was a trap," I assured him. “And set for mo?” "I believe so." Ho pondered this a moment longer, then put it from him. "No matter,” he said. “Why waste thought on a trap from which one has escaped? And now, M. de Taver nay, to your affair. I see the words which are trembling on your lips; I read the thought which is passing In your mind. You would say that I have not used you as one gentleman uses another. I admit It. You are think ing that now you will revenge your self. I do not blame you. I owe you an apology for treating you in the fashion that I did. But it was with me a question of life or death. I had no alternative. And I assure you,” he add ed smiling grimly, "I should not have hesitated to kill you had you chosen to resist. I gave you a chance for your lire merely Because I saw that you were not a republican, but a traveler like myself. Had you worn the trl-color, nothing would have saved you.’’ "All of which I saw in your eyes, monsieur,” I said, smiling In my turn. “It was for that reason I did not re sist." “Well,” he asked, looking at me, "which Is It, monsieur—an apology and this bottle of wine or our swords back of the cabaret? For myself, I hope It is the former.” There was a kindness In his tone not to be resisted, an authority In his glance and In the expression of hts face which bore In upon me anew my own experience. “The wine, monsieur,” I said. "The other would be folly.” He nodded and tilled our glasses, then raised his to his lips. “To our better acquaintance," he said, and wo drank the toast. I was beginning to wonder how I had over been so blind os to think this man an enemy. "There was one moment,” I confessed, “when you were In some danger." "I saw It," ho said quietly. "It was for that reason I turned my back to you." I stured at him In amazement. "To help you overcome the temp tation," he explained. "One gentleman d ies not break his word by stabbing another In the buck." I could not wholly repress the flush of pleasure which sprang to my cheeks. Then a sudden vision rose before me of a limp body In Republican uniform— "But you—” I stoppi d, confused, con scious thut I was uttering my thought aloud, and that the thought was not a pleasant one. "Ah," he went on, smiling sadly, "you would say that I stabbed that poor fellow in the baelc. Believe me, monsieur, T should have preferred a thousand times to meet hint face to face. But 1 had no choice. A mom ent's delay, and I should have been token. So I hardened my heart and I struck.” "Pardon me, monsieur,” I mur mured. "I should have thought of that." He nodded, the shadow still on his face. “Fortune of war," he said, with affected lightness. "We do as we are done by. And now, M. de Tavernay," he added, rising, "you will find your horse awaiting you outside yonder door, as fresh as when you started with him from Tours. I have secured mother In a less peremptory way than I found necessary to adopt with you. It is foolhardy for me to linger outside the trap—and so I must push on ut once. Rut von mnv h,> wnnrv i you may wish to avoid the heat of the day; you may, in a word, pre fer to remain here and eontinue your ; journey alone and at your leisure. If , so, farewell; but If you are ready to I go on, I assure you that I shall bo very glad of your company.” , “Thank you, monsieur," I said, my . decision taken on the instant, “I am . quite ready to go,” and I followed him to the door. At the threshold he paused and , turned toward me impulsively. "M. de Tavernny," he said, a fine i smile lighting Ids face, “I trust we i shall be friends,” and he held out his t hand. i "With all my heart," I cried, and i returned his clasp with Interest. Not until we hud left the village and I, were cantering briskly toward the - south with a clear road behind us, did v he speak again. Then it was to ask - me something of my history—which t was soon told. i- "As for myself,” he said, when I had o fir tshed, "I am on my way to my cha y teau, Just beyond Dange. You cannot ;- hope to reach Chatellerault today, aft ,t er the delay which 1 have caused you it I therefore urge you to be my guesl s tonight. I will see you on your waj g at daybreak tomorrow and you car n easily reach Poitiers by sunset. I hop< .- you will accept, my friend,” he wen it on, seeing that I hesitated, “if onlj >f that I may feel you have wholly for s, given me Besides," he added, "it i; it folly to travel unattended In this coun try after nightfall. It is overrun witl e. brigands who 3hout for liberty, equal d ity. fraternity only to conceal thei k crimes.” II But, truth to tell. I needed m d urging. I tried to stammer somethin) it of the pleasure the invitution gav< l- me, but he stopped me with a klm le little wave of the hand. II, "For the past month I have beei e. in the Bocage," he went on. whei that was settled. "Ah, if you wouli T see true heroism, my friend, yo must go there. A devoted peoplr e- : fighting for their homes and .for the! faith, under leaders the most heroic] that army ever had. It Is against' those peasants of La Vendee that this I cursed carnival of slaughter will wreck Itself.” His face was alight with enthusiasm, his eyes shining with deep emotion. "They are carrying all before them," he went on, more calmly. "Today, they are mere scattered peasants work ing In their fields. Tomorrow, they are an army of 60,000, springing from the very ground to smite the enemy. They shoot him down from behind their hedges, they put him to the sword, they send him staggering back to his bar racks, all but annihilated. Then, the next day, If there Is no more fighting, they are back again with their flocks and herds. It recalls that golden age of Greece when every man was eager to give his life for his country.” "But, surely," I objected, "trained troops should be able easily to stand against them.” "They have not yet done so,” he re torted. "We have taken Les Herblers, Montalgu, Chantonnay, Cholet and Vl hlers, one after the other, like shaking ripe plums from a tree. After all, vic tory depends not so much upon organ isation or generalship, or even num bers, as upon the spirit of the men themselves. The army which goes Into a battle with each Individual unit of It bent on victory, wins the victory. The army which fights half-heartedly, loses. That Is the history of every battle. The people of the Bocage are fighting for their homes and their religion—their souls are In the conflict, and they will never admit themselves defeated until the last man has been slain. Within a month, the Blues will have been driven completely from Vendee and tho king will reign there,” and at the words, he crossed himself. Ho saw the question in the glance I turned upon him. “You are wondering,” he said, "why, at such a time, I should have left the army. Two nights since, I received a message that my wife was dangerously 111—dying even. The army will be vlc torlus without me but my wife—” He stopped. I understood and nodded gently. "Only that could have brought me away,” he added; “the certainty that she needed me. I started at once, but found the Blues In force at Coulanges. . I attempted to turn aside and at once lost my way amid the Innumerable and abominable roads with which that country Is cursed. I was forced finally to ride on to Chlnon and then along the Loire, for It seemed as though ev * uuu CIO U1WCIVCU uy LUC euciltv, 1 should have reached the chateau last night, and behold me only this far,” and he pricked his horse savagely and galloped forward. I followed, and for an hour or more we held the pace without exchanging a word, he busy with his own thoughts and I wrapped In contemplation of the marvelous turn of fortune which had not only restored me all that I had lost, but which had also given me the friendship of a man like this. I looked at him from time to time, admiring more than ever the fine face and graceful figure. He was, I Judged, not over thirty; but there was something in the glance of his eye. In the set of hts lips, which told me that he had played his part In the world for many years. Perhaps the time was at hand when I should play my part, tool At last we drew rein to give our horses breath, and my companion pointed out to me some of the features of the country. To our right was the gentle valley of the Vienne, and finally we dipped Into It and crossed the river at a ford. "Now I am at home," he said, look ing about with a smile of pleasure. "But In this case, home Is not without Its dangers for I may be recog nized at any turn, and the adventure of this morning warns me to be care ful. At the village, there may even be another detachment of republicans. So I think It would be wise to turn aside and take that path yonder by which we shall not only avoid the town, but come directly to my estate." "Very well, monsieur," I agreed, and In another moment we had plunged among the trees. The soft earth of the wood, with Its carpet of leaves, deadened the sound of our horses' hcofs and we went on silently among the shadows for some time. Then we turned abruptly to the left, the wood opened and again I saw the river gleaming before us. "There Is the chateau," he said sud denly, and following his gesture, I saw a lofty tower rising above the trees. "That tower," he added, smiling, "Is my heritage from an amorous ances tor, who built It, some hundred years ngo. to shelter, a certain fair lady, whom a rival coveted. The tower was designed to withstand attack—and did withstand It—so the fair lady remained In our family and helped to perpetuate It. That brave Marquis de Karras, who died so gallantly on the Place de Greve two years ago, belonged to that branch of the family, so you see we have no reason to be ashamed of it. however irregular Its origin. There Is the mod ern wing," he added, as we came out suddenly upon the road, “built by my father.” It was a handsome building of white stone, and as we approached It, I saw two ladles strolling upon the terrace which ran across Its front. At the gate, a man. swart and heavyset, stood for a moment eyeing us. (Continued Next Week.) Incorruptible. From the Cleveland Plain Dealer. The lady ot the house hesitated. “Are my answers all right?" she asked. “Yes, madam,” replied the census man. "Didn’t bother you a bit, did I?” "No, madam." "Feel under some obligations to me, don’t you?" “Yes, madam.” “Then, perhaps, you won't mind tell ing me how old the woman next door claims to be?” "Good day, madam,” said the census man. _ _ The real loafing is done in automo biles and the real work under them. I-1 i ^ ' IN BASEBALL. TIME. 1 1 Willie OlBceboy—Gee! I wleht I wui , de gu^ wot wrote dem “Arabian Nights stories. Bet he could fink uv a good ex cuse fer me to git off die afternoon. Our Birthday. Banff Boom! Get out of the way And five us room! Watch us spread; Watch the Red, White and Blue rise TUI the staff that bears it Touches the skies, And Its folds, unfurled. Sweep round and huf the world To Its swelling bosom, And what a bosom that Is! Broad as the land and seas are. We are It. We are the greatest famllt Old Ma’m Earth Ever gave birth To. Think of It, please. These Are they Who celebrate this day; Uncle Sam, the strong man who Swings In his hand Over this land And beyond It, over two teas. The Red, White and Blue Banner of Liberty, Beacon of light, To unnumbered millions Yet In their night. The American Eagle, Glorious bird. Whose scream of Freedom In everywhere heard. The Yankee Nation, The Doodledoos Whose soldier boys And sailor crews Are setting the pegs of valor high Over against a smiling sky For the new come millions To pattern by; These are they Who celebrate this day. The Glorious Fourth, The day when we Whoop It up For the Land of the Free With pandemonium’s artillery. Let ’em bang And boom; Let the flowers of fireworks bloom 1 Let ’em flzz, And whiz. And slzz; Let ’em smack And whack. And crack; Let 'em rip. And snort, And tear; Let ’em loose everywhere. Shoot the guns And ring the bells; Every one Its story tells; And the story 'Is the glory Of a nation with a hand Fhill of blessings. Which expand As the glorious nation does. That’s why The Fourth of July Is— THE FOURTH OF JULY! Oh, my! _ , _ —W. J. Lampton, In New York Sun. | ___— -_1 BRAVERY ON THE BATTLEFIELD. Creelman Write* of Idolatry of tha Present Day Soldier*. > James Creelman In Pilgrim: Who can explain this unconquerable attrac tion of the garb of slaughter for the feminine mind and temperament? I*' It the suggestion of romantic and chiv alrous deed? Is It pride In the physic-! al strength of the nations? Is It th*i symbolism of sacrifice—the Individual standing for society? Is It attraction; by repulsion—the soft and merlcful,. drawn toward the hard and pitiless— the positive blending upon the nega-' tlve? Or Is It a blending of all these? The simple truth is that the mill-' tary coat no longer stands for what It did in the days of close range and hand-to-hand fighting. The policeman who arrests a burglar In the night, the fireman who serves in a plague, district—each Is a more heroio figure than the modern soldier or sailor, whoi fights almost out of sight of the enemy] and Is seldom called to do battle with] an Individual foe. Yet the policeman, the fireman, and the physican are held In slight esteem as heroes and the' eight of them rarely excites the roman tic Imagination of women. 1 can say truthfully that I have never seen a coward on the battlefield. I have seen men unnerved by the sounding of bursting shells, but that, was always a mere physical weakness; 1 never saw one who showed the, slightest disposition to run away. On the contrary, the trouble most com-, manders have Is In Keeping their men from exposing themselves unnecessar ily. But the bravest man I ever saw was a civilian without a uniform—the barefooted Japanese coolie who at tended me during the first part of the battle of Port Arthur. He was with out a weapon of any sort, but when the I Japanese advanced to storm a Chin-, ] ese triple fort, the little brown fellow , stooped and picked up a stone. When I asked him what he intended to do with it, he said that he would kill a Chinaman when we got close enough. There was a hero of the antique mold. That man stood for elements that lent a romantic glory to the warriors of other times—the strong arm, the steady heart, the clear eye, the prid* I of Individual prowess. HE WANTED THEM CHARGED. Willie—Mamma says to let me ha’ a bunch of firecrackers. Storekeeper—Yes. my little mi Does she want them charged? Willie—'Well. If they ain’t you’ll heal from me. How the Little Dog Went. Philadelphia l.ecord: “Did my little dog so by here?” asked a bareheaded I young woman, who had run up In excite ment to a small boy playing on the cor ner. i ’’Yes’m, he did,’’ said the small boy. 1 “Which way did he go? Tell me, quick!" said the young woman. But the small boy hesitated and looked shy. “Come, now,” said the young woman, coaxingly, "do tell me. See, here (s a penny," and she fished out a coin from somewhere In her clothing. "Now tell me which way he went." "He went this way,” said the smah boy, taking the penny and, getting dowr on his hands and knees, he trotted olt, jrylng, "Bow-wow, bow-wow." The prosperity of the plpemaklnf Industry In Birmingham, Eng., Is be ing threatened b> a famine In amber. SAMPLES OF COLLEGE HUMOR Professor’s Somewhat Startling Re quest—student Philosophy—Care ful Wife’s Warning. A new German professor in a girls’ college wishing to detain one of the students, said: “Oh, Miss -, may I hold you a minute after class?" This advice was given by one of the students to her mates: “Girls, take all the courses you can with the men professors, for the women of the fac ulty try to find out how much you know, and the men try to show of? how much they know.” The wife of one of the professors warned him as he went off to officiate at a funeral one rainy day: “Now, John, don’t stand with your bare head on the damp ground; you’ll surely catch cold.”—Life. SKIN HUMOR 25 YEARS “Cuticura did wonders for me. For twenty-five years I suffered agony from a terrible humor, completely cov ering my head, neck and shoulders, so even to my wife, I became an object of dread. At large expense I consult ed the most able doctors far and near. Their treatment was of no avail, nor was that of the -Hospital, during six months’ efforts. I suffered on and concluded there was no help for me this side of the grave. Then I heard of some one who had been cured by Cuticura Remedies and thought that a trial could do no harm. In a surprisingly short time I was com pletely cured. S. P. Keyes, 147 Con gress St., Boston, Mass., Oct. 12, ’09.” Face Covered with Pimples “I congratulate Cuticura upon my speedy recovery from pimples which covered my face. I used Cuticura Soap, Ointment and Resolvent for ten days and my face cleared and I am perfect ly wrell. I had tried doctors for sev eral months but got no results. Wm. J. Sadlier, 1614 Susquehanna Ave., Phila delphia, May 1, 1909.” SIX LIVES WOULD BE MISSING. j j. MS Mr. Shooter—Where's my six-shoot sr? Mrs. Shooter—What are you going to do? Mr. Shooter—Kill two-thirds of a cat. Coming in Relays. Twins were born to Mrs. O’Brien. When the first one was born the nurse called Jimmy and said: "Tell your aunt to come right, over. The stork has brought you a little brother.” The aunt could not come over imme diately. In a half hour the nurse called Jimmy again and said: ‘‘Run over and tell auntie the stork has brought you another brother." Jimmy ran to his aunt's house and said: “Auntie, the stork has brought an other brother. I wonder how many he will bring before night.” Probably True. A raw Lrishman shipped as one of the crew on a rt venue cutter. His turn at the wheel came around, and after a somewhat eccentric session in the pilot house he found himself the butt of no little humor below. “Begorrah," he growled, at last, “and ye needn't talk. I bet I done more steerin’ in tin minutes 'n ye done in ycr howl watch.”—Success. DR. MARTEL’S FEMALE PILLS. Seventeen Yearn the Standard. Prescribed and recommended for Women's Ailments. A scientifically prepared remedy of proven worth. The result from their use is quick and permanent. For sale at all Drug Stores. Adversity is sometimes hard upon a men; but tor one man who can stand prosperity there are a hundred that will stand adversity.—Carlyle. A genius is a man who tries to bor row money—and gets it. 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