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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 10, 1916)
V ■■ HUSBAND SHED HIS WIFE Stopped Most Terrible Suf fering by Getting Her Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta ble Compound. Denison, Texas. — "After my little girl was born two years ago I began suf fering with female trouble and could hardly do my work. I was very nervous but just kept drag ging on until last summer when I got where I could not do my work. I would have a chill every day and hot flashes and dizzy spells and my head would al most burst. ' I got where 1 was almost a walking skeleton and life was a burden to me until one day my husband’s step sister told my husband if he did not do something for me I would not last long and told him to get your medicine. So he got Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com pound for me, and after taking the first three doses I began to improve. I con tinued its use, and I have never had any female trouble since. I feel that I owe my life to you and your remedies. They did for me what doctors could not do and I will always praise it wherever 1 go.”—Mrs. G. O. Lowery, 419 W.Mon terey Street, Denison, Texas. If you are suffering from any form of female ills, get a bottle of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, and commence the treatment without delav., MAKE BIG GUNS OBSOLETE Western Inventor Devises an Aerial Torpedo That Gives Promise of Effectiveness. What may eventually prove to be a highly effective war Implement, and, If so, possibly render present heavy ar tillery obsolete for long-range opera tions, Is a self-controlled aerial tor pedo that has lately been developed In Colordo. It Is described In the Au gust number of Popular Mechanics Magazine. In a general way, the In strument attempts to accomplish over land what the United States navy’s new wireless torpedo does at sen. Its < principle and method of operation, of course, are entirely different. As Is to be Inferred, It consists of a small aircraft—much like an ordinary bi plane—carrying a large, high-explosive torpedo which it is designed to drop at any predetermined spot within a certain radius. The projectile, which Is about twelve feet In length, forms the body of the machine and is divided Into two compartments. The propel ter Is mounted at the front end of It, while the shaft extends through the entire torpedo to the rear compart ment, where an 18-horsepower motor Is housed. The speed and course of : the machine are regulated by means of u gyroscopic mechanism, while a tim ing device of some sort releases the ' engine containing missile at the prop- ; er Instant for It to strike its target. Frog Catchers Busy. , It seems that the home side of the 1 frog-catching Industry is looking up, because there are disadvantages to 1 people hunting for frogs on parts of ( France that are battlefields. A hand- 1 ful of men, whose fathers were In the 1 business before them, work frog catch- j lag In Upping forest With Seven Dials i as base, and It is one of the most high- 1 l.v specialized Industries In London. ! With frog catching, snail catching Is 1 (tilled; the frogs go to some restau- 1 rants and to the anatomical lnborato- j lies of the hospitals, and the snails are i chiefly bought ns cleaners of suburban ' domestic aquariums. The snail that la 1 eaten in Soho comes from the vine- , yards of France.—London Chronicle. i TT"';'!11,1. " j:.m_.■» n,i _ ■ THE LONE STAR RANGER A ROMANCE OF THE BORDER BY ZANE GREY Author of “Tho Light of Western Store.” "Risers ef the Purple Sage,” etc. HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS LNEW YORK AN# L#N##N MCI* XV CHAPTER XIII—(Continued). Toward afternoon, from the top of a long hill, Duar.e saw the green fields and trees and shining roofs of a tewn he considered must be Shirley. And at the bottom of tho hill he came upen an intersecting road. There was a placard nailed on the crossroad sign poet. Duane drew rein near it and leaned close to read the faded print. "$1,600 reward for Buck Duane, dead or alive.” Peering closer to read the finer, more faded print, Duane learned that he was Wanted for the murder of Mrs* Jeff Aik en at her ranch near Shirley. The month September was named, bat the date was Illegible. The reward was of fered by tho woman’s husband, whose name appeared with that of a sheriffs at the bottom of the placard. Duane read the thing twice. When he straightened he was sick with the hor ror of his fate, wild with passion at those misguided fools who could believe that he had harmed a woman. Then he remembered Kate Bland, and, as always when she returned to him, he quaked Inwardly. Years before word had gone abroad that he had killed her, and so ’* cacv for men wanting to fix a crime to name him. Perhaps It had been done often. ITobably lie bore on his shoulders a burden of numberless crimes. A dark, passionate fury possessed him. It shook him like a storm shakes the oak. When it passed, leaving him cold, with clouded brow and piercing eye, hlo mind was set. Spurring his horse, ha rode straight toward the vil lage. K'miicjr uj/jiirti cu iv> ua cv ku(,c, tentious eountry town. A branch of some ralnroad terminated there. The main street was wide, bordered by trees snd commodious houses, and many of the stores were of brick. A large plaza shaded by giant cottonwood trees oc cupied a central location. Duane pulled hls running horse and Halted him, plunging and snorting, be fore a group of Idle men who lounged • n benches In the shade of a spreading cottonwood. How many times had Duane seen Just that kind of lazy shirt gleeyed Texas group! Not often, how ever, had he seen such placid, lolling, good-natured men change their ex pression, their attitude so swiftly. Hls iulvent apparently was momentous. They evidently took him for an unusual visitor. So far as Duane could tell, not me of them recognized him, had a hint pf hls identity. He slid off hls horse and threw the cridle. “I’m Buck Duane,” he said. "I saw :hat placard—out there on a sign post. It’s a damn lie! Somebody find this man Jeff Aiken. I want to see him." His announcement was taken in ab solute silence. That was the only effect ho noted, for he avoided leoklng at these villagers. The reason was simple enough; Duane felt himself overcome with emotion. There were tears In hls eyes. He sat down on a bench, put hls elbows on his knees and his hands to ds face. For once he had absolutely no concern for his fate. This ignominy was :he last straw. Presently, however, he became aware >f some kind of commotion among the villagers. He heard whisperings, low, lonrse voices, then the shuffle of rapid 'eet moving away. All at once a violent cand jerked hta gun from Its holster. iVhen Duane rose a gaunt man. livid >f face, shaking like a leaf, confronted dm with hls own gun. "Hands up, thar, you Buck Duane!” ic roared, waving the gun. That appeared to be the cue for pan lemonium to break loose. Duane opened ds lips to speak, but If he had yelled it the top of hls lungs he could not have nade himself heard. In weary disgust ic looked at the gaunt mar., and then it the others, who were working them iclvos Into a frenzy. He made no move, lowever, to hold up his hands. The dllagers surrounded him, emboldened >y finding 1dm now unarmed. Then leveral men lay hold of hls arms and dnioned them behind hls Isack. Resist ance was useless even if Duane had had he spirit. Some one of them fetched hls nalter from hls saddle, and with this V, Vim Vi nlnloeo People wore running now from the street, the stores, the houses. Old men, sow boys, clerks, boys, ranchers came on he trot. The crowd grew. The Increas ing clamor began to attract women as veil us men. A group of girls ran up, hen hung back in friglit and pity. The presence of cowboys made a dlf 'orence. They split up the crowd, got to Dunne, and lay hold of him with rough, lusiness-llke hands. One of them lifted lis fists and roared at tho frenzied mob 0 fali back, to stop the racket. He beat hem hack Into a circle; but It was some little time before the hubbub luieted down so a voice could be heard. “■-shut up, will you-al?" he was ,-oiling. “Give us a chance to hear some hin’. Kasy now—soho. There ain’t no jody gi.ln’ to be hurt. Tliet's right; sverybody quiet now. Let's see what’s some off.’’ This cowboy, one of authority, or at east one of strong personality, turned ;o the gaunt man who still w-aved Duane’s gun. “Abo, put the gun down," he said. “It night go off. Here, give it to me. Now, what’s wrong? Who's this roped gent, in’ what’s he done?” The gaunt follow, who appeared now vhout to collapse, lifted a shaking hand ind opinted. "Thet tliar feller--he’s Buck Duane!” le panted. An angry murmur ran through tho surrounding crowd. “The rope! Tho rope! Throw It over 1 branch! String his up!" cried an ex ited villugcr. “Buck Duane! Buck Duane!” “Hang him!” The cowboy silenced these cries. “Abe, how do you know this fellow is Buck Duane?" he asked sharply. “Why—he said so,” replied the man failed Abe. "What!" came the exclamation, in credulously. “It’s a tarnal fact.” panted Abe, wav ing his hands importantly. He was an Jld man and appeared to be carried iway with the significance of his deed. ‘He like to rid his hoss over us-all. rhen he Jumped off, says he was Buck Duane, an’ he wanted to see Jeff Aiken fad." This speech caused a second comm> ;lon as noisy though not eo enduring is the first. When the cowboy, as ilsted by a couple of his mates, had re stored order again, some one had slipped the noose end of Duane's rope jver his head. "Up with him!” acreeched a wild syas youth. u The mob surged closer and was shored back by the cowboys. "Abe, If you ain't drunk or crazy, tell tnet over,” erdered Abe’s Interlo cutor. With some show of resentment and more of dignity Abe reiterated his for mer statement. "if he’s Buck Duane how’n hell did you get hold of his gun?” bluntly queried the crwboy. "Why—he set down thar—an’ he kind of hid his face on his hand. An’ I grabbed his gun an’ got the drop on him.” What the cowboy thought of this was expressed In a laugh. His mates like wise grinned broadly. Then the leader turned to Duane. "Stranger, I reckon you’d better speak up for yourself,” he said. That stilled the crowd as no com mand had done. ‘Tm Buck Duane, all right,” said Duane, quietly. "It was this way—” The big cowboy seemed to vibrate with a shock. All the rmddy warmth left his face; his Jaw began to bulge; the corded veins in his nack stood out in knots. In an instant he had a hard, stern, strange look. He shot out a powerful hand that fastened in the front of Duane’s blouse. “Somethin’ queer here. But if you’re Duane you’re sure In bad. Any fool ought to know that. You mean It. then?” X VO. "Rode into shoot up the town, eh? Same old stunt of you gun fighters? Want to kill the man who offered a reward? Wanted to see Jeff Aiken bad, huh?” "No,” replied Duane. “Your citizen here misrepresented things. He seems a little off his head.” "Reckon he is. Somebody is, that’s sure. You claim Buck Duane, then, an' all his doings?” ’Tm Duane; yes. But I won’t stand for the blame of things I never did. That’s why I’m here. I saw that pla card out there offering the reward. Until now I never was within half a day’s ride of this town. I’m blamed for what I never did. I rode in here, told who I was, asked somebody to send for Jeff Aiken.” "An’ then you set down an’ let this old guy throw yeur own gun on you?” queried the cowboy In amazement. ”1 guess that’s It,” replied Duane. “Well, It’s powerful strange. If you’re really Buck Duane.” A man elbowed his way into the circle. 'It’s Duane. I recognize his. I seen him more’n one place,” he” said. "Si bert, you can rely on what I tell you. I don’t know if he’s locoed or what. But I do know he’s the genuine Buck Duane. Any one who’d ever seen him onct would never forget him.” "What, do you want to see Aiken for? asked the cowboy Sibert. “I want to face him, to tell him I never harmed his wife.” “Why?” "Because I’m innocent, that’s all ” "Suppose we send for Aiken an’ he hears you an’ doesn’t believe you; what then ?” "If he won't believe me—why, then my case’s so bad—I'd be better off dead.” A momentary silence was broken by islhert. “If this Isn’t a queer deal! Boys reckon we’d better send for Jeff "Somebody wont fer him. He’ll be comm’ soon," replied a man. Duane stood a head taller than that circle of curious faces. He gazed out above and beyond them. It was in this way that he chanced to see a number of women on the outskirts of tbe crowd. Some were old, with hard faces, like the men. Some were young" and comely, and most of these seemed agitated by excitement or distress. They cast fearful, pitying glances upon .. mcif wun mat noose round his neck. Women were more human than men, Duane thought. He met eyes that dilated, seemed fas cinated at his gaze, but were not averted. It was the old women who were voluble, loud In expression of their feelings. Near the trunk of the cottonwood stood a s'c-der woman in white. Du ane's wandering glance rested upon her. Her eyes were riveted upon him. A soft hearted woman, probabiv, who did not want to see him hanged! "Thar comes Jeff Aiken now,” called a man, loudly. The crowd' shifted and trampled in eagerness. Duane saw two men coming fast, one of whom, in the lead was of stal wart build. He had a gun in his hand, and his manner was ©f fierce energy. The cowboy Sihert thrust open ‘the jostling circle of men. “Hold on, Jeff.” lie called, and he blocked the man with the gun. He snoke so low Duane could not hear what he said, and his form hid Aiken's face. At that Juncture the crowd snread out, closed in. ahd Aiken and Sihert were caught in tho circle. There was a pushing forward, a pressing of many bodies, hoarse cries and fling ing hands—again the insane tumult was about to break out—the demand for an outlaw's blood, the call for a wild justice executed 1,000 times before on Texas’ bloody soil. Sihert bellowed nt the dark en eroaehing mass. The eowboys with him beat and cuffed in vain. "Jeff, will you listen?" broke in Si bert hurriedly, his hand on the other man’s arm. , Aiken nodded eooly. Duane, who had seen many men in perfect control of themselves under circumstances like these, recognized the spirit that domi nated Aiken. He was white, cold, pas sionless. There were lines of bitter grief deep round his lips. If Duane ever felt the meaning of death he felt it then. "Sure this ’s your game. Aiken." said Sihert. ‘‘But hear me a minute. Reckon there’s no doubt about this man bein’ Ruck Duane. He seen the placard out at the cross reads. He rides In to Shir ley. He says he’s Ruck Duane an' he’s lookin’ for Jeff Aiken. That's all clear enough. You know how these gun fighters go lookin' for trouble. Rut here’s what stumps me. Duane sits down there on the bench and lets old Abe Strickland grab his gun an’ get the drop on him. More’n that, he gives me some strange talk about how, if he couldn’t make you believe he's In nocent, he’d better be dead. You see for yourself Dunne ain’t drunk or crazy or locoed. He doesn’t strike me as a man who rode in here huntin’ blood. So I reckon you’d better hold on till you hear what he haa to say.” Then for the first time the drawn faced, hungry-eyed giant turned his gaze upon Duane. Ho had Intelligence which was not yet subservient to pas sion. Moreover, he seemed the kind oi man Duane would care to have judge him In a critical moment like this. “Listen," said Duane, gravely, with his eyes steady on Aiken’s, “I’m Buck Duane. I never lied* to any man in my life. J was forced Into outlawry. I’ve never had a chance to leave the coun try. I've killed men to save my own life. I never Intentionally harmed any woman, t rotte 3» sWIes today—deliber ately to see what this reward was, who made it, what for. When I read the placard I went sick to the bottom of my soul. So I rode In here to find you —to tell you this: I never saw Shir ley bofore today. It was Impossible for me to have—killed year wife. Last September I was 2** miles north of here on the upper Nueces. I can prove that. Men who know me will tell you I couldn't murder a woman. I haven’t any Idea why such deed should bo laid at my hands. It's Juot that wild border gossip. I have no idea what rea sons you have for holding me respon sible. I only know—you’re wrong. You've been deceived. And see here, Aiken, You understand I’m a miserable man. I’m about broken, I guess. I don’t care any more for life, or anything. If you can’t look me in the eyes, man to man, and believe what I say—why, by God! you can kill me!” Aiken heaved a great breath. “Buck Dunne, whether I’m Impressed or not by what you Bay needn’t matter. You’ve had accusers. Justly or un justly, as will soon appear. The thing is we can prove you innocent or guilty. My girl Lucy saw my wife's assailant.” He motioned for the crowd of men to open up. “Somebody — you, Sibert — go for Lupy. That ’ll settle this thing.” Duane heard as a man in an ugly dream. The faces around him, the hum of voices, all seemed far off. His life hung by the merest thread. Yet he did not think of that so much as of the brand of a woman murderer which might be soon sealed upon him by a tightened, imaginative child. aiio uuwu uuwpcu o.y<u i iiuu nuacu again. Duane caught a blurred image of a slight girl clinging to Sibert's hand. He could not see distinctly. Aiken lifted the child, whispered sooth ingly to her not to be afraid. Then he fetched her closer to Duane. "Lucy, tell me. Did you ever see this man before?’’ asked Aiken, huskily and low. "Is he the one—who came in the house that day—struck you down—and dragged mama—?” Aiken's voice’ failed. A lightning flash seemed to clear Duane’s blurred sight. He saw a pale, sad face and violet eyes fixed in gloom and horror upon his. No terrible mo ment In Duane’s life ever equaled this one of silence—of suspense. "It ain’t him!” cried the child. Then Sibert was flinging the noose off Duane’s neeSc and unwinding the bonds round his arms. The spellbound crowd awoke to hoarse exclamations. "See there, my locoed gents, hew easy you’d hang the wrong man,” burst out the cowboy, as he made the rape-end hiss. "Tou-ail are a lot of wise rangers. Haw! haw!” He freed Duane and thrust the bone handled gun back in Duane's holster. “You Abe, there. Reckon you pulled a stunt! don’t try the like again. And, men, I’ll gamble there’s a hell of a lot of bad work Buck Duane’s named for—which all he never done. Clear away there. Where’s his boss? Duane, the road’s open out of Shirley.” Sibert swept the gaping watchers aside and pressed Duane toward the horse, which another cowboy held. Mechanically Duane mounted, felt a lift as he went up. Then the cowboy’s hard face softened in a smile. "I reckon it ain’t uncivil of me to say —hit that road quick!” he said, frankly. He led the horse out of the crowd. Aiken Joined him, and between them they escorted Duane across the plaza. Tile crowd appeared irresistibly drawn to follow. Aiken paused with his big hand on Duane’s knee. In It, unconsciously probably, he still held the gun. "Duane, a word with you,” he said. "I believe you’re not so black as you’ve been painted. I wish there was time to say more. Tell mo this, anyway. Do you know the Ranger Captain Mac Nelly?” ’’I do not,” replied Duane, in surprise. “I met him only a week ago over in Fairfield,” went on Aiken, hurriedly. “He declared you never killed my wife. I didn’t believe him—argued with him. We almost had hard words over it. Now—I’m sorry. The last thing he said was: ‘If you over see Duane don’t kill him. Send him into my camp after dark!’ He meant sometKng strange. What—I can’t say. But he was right, and I was wrong. If Lucy had batted an eye I’d have killed you. Still, I wouldn’t advise you to hunt up Mac Nelly’s camp. He’s clever. Maybe ho believes there’s no treachery in his new ideas of ranger tactics. I tell you for all it’s worth. Goodby. May God help you further as he did this day!” Duane said goodby and touched the horse with his spurs. “So long, Buck!” called Sibert, with that frank smile breaking warmly over his brown face; and he held his som brero high. ii, A1V. When Duane reached the crossing of the roads the name Fairfield on th.e sign post seemed to be the thing that tipped the oscillating balance of de cision in favor of that direction. He answered here to unfathomable impulse. If he had been driven to hunt up Jeff Aiken, now he was called to find this unknown ranger captain. In Duane’s state of mind clear reasoning, common sense, or keenness were out of the question. lie went because he felt he was compelled. Dusk had fallen when he rode into a town which inquiry discovered to be Fairfield. Captain MacNelly’s camp was stationed just out of the village limits on the other side. No one except the boy Duane ques tioned appeared to notice his arrival. Dike Shirley, the torvn of Fairfield was large and prosperous, compared to the innumerable hamlets dotting the vast extent of southwestern Texas. As Du ane rode through, being careful to get off the rpain street, he heard the toll ing of a church bell that was a melan choly reminder of his old home. There did not appear to be any camp on th.e outskirts of the town. But, as Duane sat his horse, peering around and undecided what further move to make, he caught tha glint of flickering lights through the darkness. Heading towards them, he rode perhaps a quar ter of a mile to come upon a grove of mesquite. The brightness of several fires made the surrounding darkness all the blacker. Duane saw the moving forms of men and heard horses. He advanced naturally, expecting any mo ment to be halted. "Who goes there?” came the sharp call out of the gloom. Duane pulled his horse. The gloom was impenetrable. "One rnan—alone,” replied Duane. "A stranger?” “Yes.” “What do you want?" “I’m trying to find the ranger camp.” “You've struck it. What’s your er rand?" “I want to see Captain MacNelly.” “Get down and advance. Slow. Don’t move youf hands. It’a dark, but I can see." Duane dismounted and. leading hia horse, slowly adduced a few paces. He saw a dully bt-.ght object—a gun— before he discovered the man who held It. A few more steps showed a dark figure blocking the trail. Here Duane halted. "Come closer, stranger. Let s have a look at you,” the gua.^1 ordered, curtly. Duane advanced again until fie stood before the man. Here the rays of light from the fires flickered upoa Duane’s face. "Beckon you’re a strangei, all right. VV hat's your name and your business with the captain?” Duane hesitated, pondering what best to say. “Tell Captain MacNeliy > m the man he’s keen asking to ride into his camp— after dark,” finally said Duane. The ranger bent forward to peer hard at this night visitor. His manner had been alert, and now it became tense. "Come here, one of you men, quick,” he called, without turning in the least toward the camp fire. “Hello! What’s up, Pickens?” came the swift reply. It was followed by a rapid thud of boots on soft ground. A dark form crossed the gleams from the firelight. Then a ranger loomed up to reach the side of the guard. Duane heard whispering, the purport of which he could not catch. The second ranger swore under his breath. Then he turned away and started back. "Here, ranger, before you go, under stand this: My visit is peaceful— friendly if you'll let it be. Mind, 1 was asked to come here—after dark.” Duane's clear penetrating voice car ried far. The listening rangers at the camp fire heard what he said. "Ho, Pickens! Tell that fellow to wait," replied an authoritative voice. Then a slim figure detached itself from the dark, moving group at the camp fire and hurried out. "Better be foxy, Cap,” shouted a ranger in warning. onut up—all of you, was the reply. This officer, obviously Captain Mac Nelly, soon joined the two rangers who were confronting Duane. He had no fear. He strode straight up to Duane. "I’m MacNelly,” he said. “If you're my man, don’t mention your name— yet.” All this seemed so strange to Duane, in keeping with much that had hap pened lately. “I met Jeff Aiken today,” said Duane. “He sent me—” “You’ve met Aiken!" exclaimed Mac Nelly, sharp, eager, low. “By all that’s bully! Then he appeared to catch him self, to grow restrained. “Men, fall back, leave us alone a moment.” The rangers slowly withdrew. “Buck Duane! It’s you?” he whis pered, eagerly. “Yes." “If I give my word you’ll not be ar rested—you’ll be treated fairly—will you come into camp and consult with me?” “Certainly.” “Duane, I’m sure glad to meet you,” went on MacNelly; and he extended his hand. Amazed and touched, scarcely realiz ing this actuality, Duane gave his hand and felt no unmistakable grip of of warmth. “It doesn’t seem natural, Captain MacNelly, but I believe I’m glad to i meet you,” said Duane, soberly. "You will be. Now we’ll go back to I camp. Keep your identity mum for the ' present." He led Duane in the direction of the camp fire. "Pickens, go back on duty,” he or dered, “and, Beeson, you look after this horse.” When Duane got beyond the line of mesqulte, which had hid a good view of the camp site, he saw a group of perhaps 15 rangers sitting around the fires, near a long low shed where horses were feeding, and a small adobe house at one side. “We’ve just had grub, but I’ll see you get some. Then we’ll talk,” said Mac Nelly. “I’ve taken up temporary quar ters here. Have a rustler job on hand* Now, when you’ve eaten, come right in to the house. Dnane was hungry, but he hurried through the ample supper that was set before him, urged on by curiosity and nstoriislimPTit The nnhr vx70 XT Vwx /-.mnlrl. account for his presence there in a j ranger’s camp was that MacNelly hoped to get useful information out of him. Still that would have hardly made this captain so eager. There was a mys tery here, and Duane could scarcely wait for it to be solved. While eating he had bent keen eyes around h*m. After a first quiet scrutiny the rangers apparently paid no more attention to him. They were all veterans in ser vice—Duane saw that—and rugged, powerful men of iron constitution. De spite the occasional joke and sally of the more youthful members and a gen eral conversation of camp fire nature, Duane was not deceived about the fact that his advent had been an unusual and striking one, which had caused an undercurrent of conjecture and even consternation among them. These rangers were too well trained to ap pear openly curious about their cap tain’s guest. If they had not deliber ately attempted to be oblivious of his presence, Duane would have concluded they thought him an ordinary visitor, somehow of use to MacNelly. As it was, Duane felt a suspense that must have been due to a hint of his identity. He was not long in presenting him self at the door of the house. "Come in and have a chair,” said MacNelly, motioning for the one other occupant of the room to rise. “Leave us, Russell, and close the door. I’ll be through these reports right off.” MacNelly sat at a table upon which was a lamp and various papers. Seen In the light he was a fine looking, sol dierly man of about 40 years, dark haired and dark eyed, with a bronzed face, shrewd, stern, strong, yet not wanting in kindliness. lie scanned hastily over some papers, fussed with them, and finally put them in envel opes. Without looking up he pushed J* rigar case toward Duane and, upon Duane’s refusal to smoke, he took a cigar, rose to light it at the lamp chim ney, and then, settling back in his chair, he faced Duane, making a vain attempt to hide what must have been the fulfilment of a long nourished curi osity. "Duane, I’ve been hoping for this for two years,” he began. Duane smiled a little—a smile that felt strange on his face. He had never been much of a talker. And speech here seemed mors than ordinarily dif ficult. MacNelly must have felt that. He looked long and earnestly at Du xne, and his quick, nervous manner changed to grave thoughtfulness. "I’ve lots to say, but where to be ?ln—'' he mused. “Duane, you’ve had x hard life since you went on the dodge, i never met you before; don’t know what you looked like as a boy. But I can see what—well, even ranger life Isn’t all roses. He rolled his cigar between his lips xnd puffed clouds of smoke. "Ever hear from home since you left Wellston?" he asked, abruptly. "No.” "Never a word?” "Not on*.” replied Duane, sadly. (Continued Next Week.) WINS FORTUNE AND NOBEL PRIZE WHILE PRISONER (By Mall.) Vienna—Entering the war as a volunteer furgeon little known outside the circle of specialists of his own class. Dr. Robert Barany, of Vienna, after 15 months of captivity in Russia, has at last returned is an “exchange invalid” to find himself !amoua as the Nobel prize winner in medi line. The knowledge which was the basis of lis prize winning book was gained chief y as surgeon in Przemysl: the book !t lelf was written in captivity; it has irought him 400,000 crowns in money; and t played no smail part in securing his re • ease from Turkestan. The dramatic circumstances surround ( ng his achievement have greatly height ened the effect of his return to his family Nominally he was permitted to leave Rus J sia because he is slightly lame from an < affection of one foot from which he ha* suffered since a child. Actually, his un expected distinction, plus the efforts of ( Prince Karl, of Sweden, went far to so ; ?ure his exchange. ■ Despite his lameness, Dr. Barany vol i unteered for service at the outbreak of the war. and was detailed as chief sur geon of the surgical department of a hos pital in Przemysl. It was while there, a* he modestly explains, that he was "so fortunate as to discover a new method for the treatment of head wounds,” a discov ery that enabled him to cure a vastly greater percentage of cases than before. { For four weeks after the fall of Przemysl the Russian commander al j lowed the Austrian physicians to remain. Then in transports of about 100 they were f “jjjt ?° various parts of Russia, many to Siberia, the surgeon and many others to . Turkestan. Unlike many others, Dr. Bar { any on his return was reported almost ' universally good treatment in captivity. I treatment that included a sufficiency of I decent food, liberty not too restricted, and f Pleasant professional relations with Rus sian commanders and colleagues. Dr. • Barany was given fairly ample opportun \ tty to study, to practice, and to lecture on his specialty to Russian and captive Austrian physicians. I* i THE COMING OF -f !♦ THE EVENING STAR From Collier’s. No matter whether the summer sun has disappeared behind the next brick block or the mighty ranges of the Sierra Ne vada, or has gone in glory beyond the surging sky line that marks the Pacific’! or the prairie’s verge, there is the same I eternal mystery in that hushing hour of twilight and coolness. After the day’s glare the earth itself has become for u» that great reck in a weary hand which to the prophet Isaiah was the symbol of his king to be. In its shadow' he will rest. Now, as of old, that kindly zone of twi light has come to us on its unceasing mis sion across the face of our world, a daily biessing made near and visible to those who will see, and above it shines the eve ning star. Before this presence one's thoughts, at least, turn home and the familiar things of life are both dear and strange. Flowers close drowsily; birds are stirring to their rest or waking to re newed life according to their kind; and every tree down the street or hillside is rustling its countless leaves in that ves per music of the little breezes which a man’s heart ought to be wise enough to understand. Supper smoke is abroad on those same breezes and the children are somewhat quieter. And in that hour the everlasting wonder is renewed; what have we done to deserve a world so fair, what goodness has made it possible for us? Despite the tumult in which we confuse our lives and the wrongs that blot us, this hour comes with its healing peace and will come throughout the years. Surely it is for us to have some of our days so lived that they wrill be worthy of the eve ning star, peaceful in the shadows that follow it, and confident of the morning beyond. RESUSCITATION APPARATUS In the summer season there is special Interest in resuscitation apparatus and other means of restoring people who have been made unconscious by inhal ation of gas or by falling in the water, i'he danger of drowning is largely re sponsible for this increase of interest. We get many requests, particularly at tills season, for advice as to resuscita tion apparatus. If the unconscious person is discov ered within a minute after breathing stops and artificial respiration is em ployed at once, the manual method is better than the use of any form of ap paratus. The pressure on the chest stimulates the heart and accounts for the advantage of the method. If efforts to resuscitate are not begun until more than two minutes have elapsed, the use of mechanical apparat us has some advantage over the man ual method. Theoretically, the use of the mechanical method has some ad vantages, especially when used from two to 10 minutes after respiration has stopped. It should be possible by artificial respiration of one sort or another to restore every case where efforts at re suscitation were begun within two min utes after breathing is stopped. If ar tificial respiration is not begun until more than 10 minutes elapse after breathing stops, neither manual respir ation nor the use of apparatus will serve to bring back life. In physiologic laboratories it has never been possible to revive an animal that has not breathed for five minutes before efforts at resuscitation were begun. Right here lies the shortcoming of all me chanical apparatus. Artificial respira tion can be begun at once. The time 'ost in getting the pulmotor or lur.g motor means a loss of all hope for the onconscious person. The difference of me minute between the time of start ing is more than enough to compen sate for any theoretic advantage of the mechanical apparatus over the manual method. T niversa 1 training in the manual ' method will accomplish more for resus citation from drowning, electric shock and asphyxia than is possible by pra viding any amount of apparatus. Artificial respiration with apparatus is superior to the manual method in that it gives enough ventilation of the lungs. The manual method does not If the apparatus is right at hand use It but do not wait a single minute for It to arrive. Begin manual artificial resniration at once. The Schafer method of artificial res niration is better than the Sylvester After respiration stops the heart may continue to heat for eight minutes. Pv Lho use of the Sylvester method the 'mart can be kept beating for 12 min ctes, by the Schafer method, 18 minutes. The forms of mechanical apparatus examined were the pulmotor, pulmotor model B, lungmotor. and vivator. Note if the lifemotor is also made. Cause of Trooedy. From Stray Stories. “They say Tony’s injuries were the re sult of a practical joke.” "Yes. The chappies told him that a big Surly fellow In the smoking room was leaf and dumb, and Tony walked over tc aim with a sweet smile a.:d told him ho ivas a fool." "Well?" “The man wasn’t deaf and dumb. A Grateful Wt.ean, From the Washington Star. “Charley, dear.” said young Mbs Tor <ir.s, “they have dog tenu in the army, Ion t they? “t\ hy, yes. You see, it’s & eort of tech, deal term—" “You needn’t trouble to explain 1 fuess I understand word* of one Bylls be. What I wanted to aay Is that I’m pod our faithful four-footed friends art iruvlded for. Only 1 suspect the S. P G k. uiadu (bem do it."