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."
