TO TRADE
Small Farm for Cheap Ranch
/
Mr. Ranchman: Are you' tired of
ranch life and long, cold winters? ^
Would you like to live in a thickly
settled, level, highly improved and
beautiful locality, close to good
towns, schools and churches, where '
they have 41 inches annual rainfall,
with short, mild winters and long,,
pie as? rft s ummers?
The finest corn, small grain, tim
othy, clover, alfalfa, biuegrass, veg
5 etable and fruit locality in the U. S.,
1 only two hours ride from Kansas
City, the best market west of Chicago.
If you have a clear, cheap ranch that is good, and would trade
for a nice improved small farnj well located, send full description,
? location and price of your ranch in first letffer; prices must be right
. . ;.
Wait & Dean, Blue Mound, Kansas
” I
Lincoln Floor- Finishes
* \
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Just clean the floor thoroughly, let it dry and apply the
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it only requires a small amount, the cost is trifling. A
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v two coats, wit a smooth, litird surface that’/ easy to clean and ,
I easy to keep clean.
fi •
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Our “Home Painting Jobs” book tells you how to make
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| hard Wood. Ask for it—it’s free.
NHL BRENNAN
Notice to Breeders
I have traded for the Frank Shoemaker
Shire stallion and have also purchased a
new Jack which I will stand at my place
this season.
SERVICE FEES
Shoemaker Horse or Jack $12.50
Percherorj Horse $10 /
If mares are sold or remoued the seruice fee becomes due and payable
at once. Care will be tahen to avoid accidents but will not be respon
sible should any occur, " 51 A.
O’NEILL, NEB. A. MERRELL
-- - — - 1 ■1 ' -- s -
Save Work
Worry
Money
- by using a Stover Gasoline
B Engine. Made right. Sold right.
Send for Uustrated catalogue
free.
SANDWICH MFG. CO.
Council Bluffs, la.
General Agents.
L,_ I
A great city. There is a noise ih the
streets, over the streets, under the
streets. A whirling mass of human be
ings in tiie morning rolls down from
the north like the ebbing tide and flows
up again In the evening. And all night
the whirl goes on, but a different whirl.
There is a glow of electric lights; the
streets are full now not of workers, but
of pleasure seekers. They pour into
the theaters. Into the hotels, Into the
restaurant. And then they pour out
again.
Captives In the cage of the city Jail,
men moved about like bees in some
mammoth hive, and not unlike the
buzzing of bees came the continual
j hum of their low voiced conversation.
Here rough faced men passed the anx
ious hours, engaged boisterously in a
game of cards, while over there others
sat lost in deep brooding dejection.
One figure alone seemed to stand
apart different from them all. This
difference might have been accounted
for by the jaunty suit and cap and
the high white collar which the young
man wore; but after all, it was a cer
tain infectious light of good humor
in the boyish blue eyes, an irrespon
sible air of happiness, which distin
guished Peter Olaf from his compan
ions in crime. Once again he walked
the length of the long room, keeping
time to his step by a subdued though
merry whistle; then he paused sociably
at the side of a prisoner who glowered
up at him. Peter spoke with a soft
foreign accent
“That makes twelve times around,”
he said. The man addressed lumber
ed to his feet, joining the youth in his
walk. \
“What chu here for?” he growled.
The boyish blue eyes widened, while
a dull red crept to the blond hair on
Peter’s forehead. “Bigamy,” he an
nounced briefly. The elder man stood
still with a muttered exclamation.
“Bigamy,” he repeated, and exclaim
ed again—“bigamy, a kid like you?
What chu do It for?”
Peter Olaf shook his head. “I didn’t
mean to,” he said slowly. “I—I don’t
know.
"It just happened. Far away In Rus
sia was Mari. Before I came to this
new country Marl and I were'mar
ried.
“Some day I would send her money;
then she must come to ma So I told
her we would be rich here and happy.
And Mari was glad. At first I wrote
to her long letters, and then”— Peter
stopped abruptly. When he spoke
again hie tone was harder, more con
strained.
“Well, In the house where I board
ed lived Blanca. T was lonely here In
the strange country—oh, very, very
lonely.
"Blanca was most kin£ and beautiful.
Together we went to many places—
out upon the ferryboats in the moon
light, down to the sands of the sea.
And Marl seemed to fade away so far
I could scarce remember her face. It
grew dim like a dream one has almost
forgot i
“And so I did not send to Marl
the money. May not one have a new
wife In a new country when one shall
never return to the old? Blanca also
had a lover who would have married
her.
“This she told me.” The boy pass
ed his hand across his forehead. “So
what could I do?” he asked. “Could
I lose Bianca?” And then that very
day when we were married Marl
comes along to this country. Alone
she had worked and saved, and now
she Is here.
“And Mari asks them to find ms
for her—the officials—and when they
find me I am married again. So you
see It is bigamy. That is what they
tell mo, and I must be held for trial.”
The boy clutched the prisoner’s sleeve
fearfully. “What will they do with
me?” he cried.
The hardened man, whose own crime
had brought suffering to many, stared
disgustedly Into the frightened face.
“Do with you." he answered fiercely
—“do with you? I don’t know, but 1
hope they will lock you up. I hope
they make you work as she never
thought of working—that little Russian
thing you deserted. Chances are they
won’t do it, though. That innocent,
baby face of yours will carry you
through. You’ll only be deported.”
"Deported?” questioned the boy ea
gerly. The man turned on his heel.
“Yes.” he answered gruffly—“sent
back where your kind belong.”
Peter Olaf stood considering. He
seernai to see again the little village
that bad been his home, the tiny school
house where he and Mari had gone so
many years together. Then across his
memory flushed a picture of Bianca—
Bianca of the crimson lips and laugh
ing eyes. The great oaken doors Just
beyond the heavy screen opened now
and closed with much grating of locks.
As through a mist be saw the figures of
an officer and a girl.
“Forty-five!” rang out the officer’s
voice, and the girl’s slender figure came
waverlnglyv indistinctly, toward him.
A moment she stood, her white face
pressed close against the veiling wires,
her dark eyes shining golden black in
, the reflected light Thpn with a Joy
fill, half friartfcnTate Cfy Mail clashed
her trembling hands.
“Peter,” she whispered—"oh, Peter!”
Dumbly the guilty youth stood peering
through his cage. The woolen shawl
which the girl wore fell back from her
head, revealing the well remembered
clustering curls. The sound of his
home tongue upon her lips brought a
sob to Peter’s throat
“I came,” Marl went on breathlessly,
“to you, beloved. Because you had
not been able to send me money, should
that then keep us apart? So I worked ,
and worked.” The words melted Into (
a soft, little laugh. “Oh, you did not
know that I could be so clever, Peter—
could of myself eau so much money,
enough to bring me t^the far America.
But me, alone—1 dla It” The trium
phant tone turned now to one of deep
compassion. “And you, my Peter"—
the girl said quickly—“they have made
you suffer. Because of a cruel, wicked
mistake they have placed you hero
behind their great locked doors.
“ ‘He Is married In this country,' the
men tell me, but I ask them bow can
that be. It is foolish, for is not my
Peter my husband, and have I not here
our printed records? But the Interpret
er is very stupid, and he will not un
derstand, and he tells me over and
over again, ‘Peter Olaf Is married.’ so
I come away angry."
The girl tossed her head. "Be bsave,
beloved,” she said, “and all will yet be
well.
“Do not grieve that I must go
back, for so they have ordered. 'Re
turn at once to your own country,’ the
stern man said, as though that were
punishment to me. I am glad—glad
to go.
"Here the people are so strange and
fine and grand; here no one cares."
Mari caught her breath sharply. Tears
welled In the golden black eyes. She
waited, wondering at his silence, and
then, with a sudden hopeless gesture,
Peter stretched forth his arms.
“Mari,” he murmured brokenly, “if
I could but touch your hand.”
“Have I not, then, the same long
ing?” she answered tremulously. "But
when they have learned their mistake,
Peter, when they know of their Wrong,
then they will set you free, and you
will hasten back to our happy home
land.
“There will I be to welcome you and
see in the garden our fruits and flowers
are growing and upon the hills our
sheep. So you will be content and hap
py forevermore, so you will never care
again to wander.”
“Marl,” the boy cried out in despair,
“how may I then come to you—I who
am so unworthy?”
An attendant laid a kindly hand upon
the girl’s shoulder. “Time’s up," he
reminded. Marl looked back through
-the screen with reproachful eyes.
“You unworthy, Peter?" she said ten
derly. “You”— Then obediently Mari
followed on up the stair. Outside be
fore the Jail a dark faced Italian paus
ed to adjust the golden harp which he
carried. At his side, in bizarre cos
tume, tripped a red lipped girl. With
a swift sidelong glance at the man she
flirted her beribboned tambourine.
"I go lh there, Toni." she said. "I not
play on the boat today.” The Italian
niood looking down upon her with a
sort of dogged devotion.
"You go to see him, Bianca,” he said
—“he who was not your husband.
fool you and lie to you, yet you can for
give?" The girl shrugged her shoul
ders.
“What do I forgive?” she asked pert
ly. “He leave her for me. If he leave
me for her”—Blanca’s eyes narrowed—
“but Petro he not do that,” she said.
Halfway to the Impressive entrance
she turned back to suille at him. “You
wait for me, Toni?” she called, and the
Italian answered with sad resigna
tion:
“Always I wait for you, Bianca.”
She smiled at Peter also, showing her
pretty white teeth, as he drew near the
forbidding screen.
“Hello!” she greeted him gayly.
“Hello,, but I cannot shake bands.”
“Would you?” Peter asked her grave
ly. “Would you if you could?”
“Why not?” laughed Bianca. “You
will be free,” she added quickly. “I ask
the man at the desk if they send you
to jail, and he frown, and he say be
think not They send you back per
haps where you belong. But Petro,”
she whispered softly, “when you are
free you will come back to me? Prom
ise. I am your wife.”
Tne boy leaned weaniy against tne
screen. Through It came the fragrant
breath of roses in her hair.
"Promise, Petro," the girl caressing
ly implored him.
“I will come back to you, Blanca,”
he answered evenly. She laughed a
little as she turned away.
"Goodby,” she said. And as she
came out again into the light and
found the Italian still waiting in pa
tient hopelessness Bianca anticipated
the burning question of his eyes.
“No,” she said, slowly shaking her
head; “no, Toni; he never come back
to me; never, any morfe.” The mun
leaned forward, unbelieving.
“He told you that?” he asked eagerly.
“He not tell me,” Blanca replied,
with a shrewd little smile. “He not
need to tell me; I know.”
“Beloved!” the man entreated and
spoke no other word. For a moment
the singing girl swayed her tambou
rine teasingly before her mocking face;
then, suddenly serious, she gazed at
him across the tinkling bells.
“Tour kind, Toni," she said gently;
“the slow kind. It is the best”
And far out upon the pier another
girl sat, her upraised face glorified in
the light of the setting sun, her dark
eyes filled with dreams. "Deported,”
murmured a pitying voice, but the im
migrant girl was smiling happily as
she followed the long line into the
[great white ship. Marl had entered
upon the journey into her promised
laivil
. .... . . — ---
The Obliging
Juryman .
He Had Just Time to Serve
Before Taking a Train
x..
By ELLSWORTH TOWNSEND
I like to talk with John Atherton, a
retired detective friend of mine, for he
has a fund of incidents that occurred
during the days of his active service
that I find interesting. Some of them
happened to him personally, and some
were^old him by his fellow craftsmen
during idle hours. This is one of Ath
erton's stories that especially pleased
me from the ingenuity and assurance
perpetrated by a rogue:
There are two ways by which crooks
work, the one with, the other without
confederates. Both ways have their
advantages. A man who works alone
doesn’t have the fear of being betrayed
by his pal. for where one is offered an
easy letting off from a hard sentence
if he will squeal he is pretty liable to
squeal. But a man who has a con
federate can do what one man can’t do
alone.
in one way crook pals will usually
stand by each other. When one Is In
danger the other will do all In his pow
er and take considerable risks to help
him out. I was once put on a job to
track down a man called Jerry Wilson,
who was in the confidence department
of roguery. Wilson usually worked
countrymen. He was one of the most
accomplished swindlers 1 ever met
He bad been an actor and was- profi
cient in the art of making up. We
would hear of him one day passing as
a stockbroker, at another as a clergy
man and again as a cotton planter
with a perfect southern dialect Of
course we didn't know at the time that
these were one nnd the same man, but
we often suspected ,‘t nnd In time learn
ed It from Wilson himself.
One day a countryman reported at
police headquarters that he had been
victimized by a man who passed him
self off for an Englishman. The coun
tryman had come from England twen
ty years before and had never become
Americanized. Englishmen seldom be
come naturalized. You will find thou
sands of them In this country, and oth
er countries for that matter, who have
become old men and not seen England
since they were children nnd are still
British subjects.
The man who picked him up doubtless
heard him speak with his British lingo,
had stepped up to him and hailed him
as a fellow countryman. One born,
he said, under the British fiag and
once accustomed to the home nccent
could always be placed as an English
man. Then he launched out on the de
merits of this "bloody country” and
won the farmer’s heart completely.
A confidence man becomes very ex
pert In drawing out Information from
a greenhorn, and the new acquaintance
—Henderson he called himself—was
evidently an adept at this work, for
the farmer soon learned that they both
came fronf the same county In Eng
land and from the same town and
knew the same persons. Henderson,
being a Inter arrival, gave his former
fellow townsman lots of Information
as to ■what, hnd become of many of his
old friends—who were living-and who
were deud and who had married. The
result was a friendly drink at a “pub
lic," as they call a saloon In England,
followed by a friendly game, with the
consequent transfer of several hundred
dollars of the farmer's mgney to the
pockets of Mr. Henderson, who, when
he had drained his fellow country
man’s resources, slipped out through a
back door.
Well, we got on to Mr. Henderson,
but were deficient In proof. The farm
er’s testimony might have been met
by an alibi and other subterfuges, and
I decided to capture him at his own
game. Having located him, I stood
near him and, adopting the British ac
cent. began to talk about dear old
Merrle England. The fellow chimed
in, and we were soon hobnobbing to
gether. I had my pocketbook stuffed
with marked bills, which passed Into
my countryman's possession. Then 1
tipped a confederate the wink, and to
gether-we took him In.
There couldn't have been a surer
case against a man than that could
there? From facts I gathered and the
man's ability to personate different
characters I believed I had got the
'slippery Wilson, and I Intended to put
him where he would trouble the public
no longer. In making up a Jury to try
blm we got nine good men, when
somehow we couldn’t get any further.
Some were exempt and some had suffi
cient excuses. When we got the elev
enth man so much time had been lost
that the judge was getting impatient
A gentlemanly looking man In the
courtroom said that If the trial would
not occupy much time he would help us
out He was Immediately served with
a summons, accepted and sworn la
The trial didn’t require or It was not
given a long time. The evidence was
perfect and the conviction was consid
ered a mere matter of form. Besides,
there was the gentleman who had vol
unteered to serve on the case provided
he would not he long detained. After
he had been sworn In he told the Judge
that he was really exempt but would
not claim exemption provided be was
assured that he would In every proba
bility be discharged within a couple of
hours since be was waiting for a train
that would leave at the expiration of
that tliMk I think the judge must
hare'had'an fengagbment’Htuuunf.rfbr
he seemed to be in a harry. He held
a consultation with the prisoner’s at
torney—whom he had assigned to de
fend him—who said that he had little
or no evidence for the prisoner and did
not think what he had would require
ten minutes to bring it out Upon this
the Judge told the obliging Juryman
that he was very sure he would have
plenty of time to make his train.
“I’m glad of that, your honor,” said
the gentleman. "There’s nothing I
dread so much as waiting for any
thing, especially for a train.”
The Judge’s opinion as to the period
of the trial proved quite correct For
awhile it seemed that it would be put
through at railroad speed. The charge
was read to the prisoner, and he was
asked to plead. He said he was a Brit
ish subject and asked if that would
make any difference. When told that
it would not he pleaded not guilty.
I gave my account of how I ha^ trap
ped him. and his victim testified
against him. The accused declared
that he was a British subject from
Australia and if his home were not so
far away he could easily prove his re
spectability. The twelfth Juryman im
paneled asked him a few questions
about Australia, which he answered
evidently to the Juryman’s satisfac
tion. But this didn’t cut any figure
because it didn’t matter where he came
from. We had the deadwood on him.
We expected the Jury to convict him
without leaving their seats, but they
didn’t Then we thought they might
be half an hour, but the half hour
passed, and they didn’t- come back.
The judge went home to dinner, leav
ing instructions to be called when a
verdict was reached. He wasn’t called.
The jury remained out the rest of
the day and all night In the morning
they sent word that they would like to
be discharged since they couldn’t
agree. This made the Judge angry,
and he sent back word that the evi
dence was absolutely'convincing and
they must agree. Indeed, they were
given to understand that they must
bring In a verdict or they would bo
kept where they were till the crack of
doom. They stood out till about 10
o'clock the second night, then sent
word that they had come to an agree
ment. The judge was summoned, and
they filed Into court The judge asked
the customary questions.
‘‘Have you arrived at a verdict!”
“We have, your honor."
"Do you find the prisoner guilty or
not guilty of the charge!"
“Not guilty.”
“What!"
"Not guilty, your honor.”
There was nothing to do in ac-*
cordance with the law except to dis
charge them. Convinced that there
bad been some rascality practiced, I
stationed myself at the door and scru
tinized every man as he went out I
noticed that the twelfth Juryman, who
had volunteered, led the rest out of
the courtroom, and I beard him de
scending the stairs three steps at a
time,
I was convinced that he had Imposed
on us all with a view to getting on the
Jury, then standing out for an acquittal.
I learned that he had told his fellow
jurymen that he had lived In Australia
and had known the prisoner there and
could vouch for his being a respected
citizen of' Melbourne. He was sure
that be had been mistaken for so pie
one else and would not on any account
vote for a conviction. Not until the
others became convinced that the man
was not to be moved did they conclude
to bring In a verdict of not guilty rath
er than disagree and subject the state
to the expense of another trial.
There was no way of holding the
man who had been tried. He had been
acquitted of the charge of which he
was accused and could not be tried
again for that crime. So we made a
virtue of necessity and let hln) go.
Six months after this two men were
arrested for confidence work. I went
to the trial for information and a look
at the prisoners, since it was my cus
tom to keep track of the rogues
brought in. The moment I looked at
the prisoners I recognized both of
them. One was the man who had
swindled the farmer and whom I bad
supposed to be Jerry Wilson. The oth
er—would you believe it?—was the
twelfth juryman who had forced his
acquittal.
But this was not all of my surprise
At the trial of the two men It came
out that this twelfth juryman, who
was willing to help us out If It didn’t
take too long, was none other than
Jerry Wilson. He and the other man,
Tom Murphy (and other jiames). had
long worked confidence games togeth
er, and when his pal was In trouble
Wilson had made himself up for a gen
tleman, had gone into the courtroom to
watch the impaneling of the jury and
in the nick of time had offered himself
to help us out
I confess that in all my experience
I never knew a clearer case of One
rogue standing by another. Wilson
ran an awful risk. Had I known when
he left the courtroom that be had sin
gle handed “hung” the jury 1 should
have kept him in sight trumped up a
charge against him and held him till 1
could find out who he was. That he
feared something of the kind was evi
dent from the baste with which he got
away.
After the conviction of the two men
(they were sent up for twenty years) I
visited Wilson in jail, and he told me
much about his operations. He said
that when he played the twelfth jury
man trick be was more afraid of my
getting on to it than any one else, for
I had completely outwitted bis pal
with my marked bills. When he saw
me station myself at the courtroom
door to watch the outgoing of the jury
men he thought it was all up with
him. The moment he reached the
street he ran like a deer, entered an
alley and was soon beyond capture.
