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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 24, 1916)
WHY WOMEN WRITE LETTERS To Lydia E. Pinkham Medi cine Co. Women who aro well often ask "Are the letters which tho Lydia E. Pinkham Medicine Co. are continually publishing, genuine?” “Are they truthful?” ” Why do women write such letters? ” In answer wo say that never have we published a fictitious letter or name. Never, knowingly, have we published an untruthful letter, or one without the full and written consent of the woman who wrote it The reason that thousands of women from all parts of the country write such grateful letters to the Lydia E. Pink ham Medicine Co. is that Lydia E. Pink ham’s Vegetable Compound has brought health and happiness into their lives, once burdened with pain and suffering. It has relieved women from some of the worst forms of female ills, from dis placements. inflammation, ulceration, irregularities, nervousness, weakness, stomach troubles and from the blues. It is impossible for Is well and who has never suffered to realize how these poor, suffering wo men feel when re stored to h ealth; their keen desire to help other women who are suffering as they did. NOTHING IS WASTED THERE People of Haiti Treasure Packing Boxes and Above All, Tin Cans. Haiti is one country where almost everything is utilized, particularly if the substance be wood or tin. Lumber Is $60 per thousand, and any substi tute {or it is eagerly welcomed. For Instance, a partition fence be longing to some well-to-do people on a ^prominent street is made of the tops, bottoms and sides of packing boxes that contained cans of condensed ndlk; two doors farther on is a fence made of old barrel staves; and a combina tion of barrel staves and packing-box strips for fencing is by no means un common. Tin cans, with the solder melted off and the tops and bottoms removed, are flattened out and used ns shingles, in inending fences, patching holes, and for numerous other purposes. Tlie five-gallon oil cans, however, are prized and cherished family pos sessions. These cans have n regular market value of 15 to 20 cents gold. It is no unusual occurrence for a wom an to buy n five-gallon can of kero sene, hoist it to her head, and tramp all day peddling the oil In small quan tities—at cost, if she can do no bet ter—Just for the sake of obtaining the tin. These receptacles are used for car rying water, boiling clothes and stor ing and cooking food. The tins in which five pounds of lard come have a value of ten cents gold, and are a standard measure, known locally ns a “niamlte.” They are used ns a dry measure generally for corn, beans, salt and the like. Even the square tins in which matches are shipped are sold at five to ten cents each. Undaunted. The dove of peace his voice doth Ilf? In tireless demonstration, And seeks to share the parrot’s gift For bounteous conversation. Beware of the man who has a mania for offering apologies. Everybody needs it— stored for emergency in a well-developed, well-pre served, well - nourished | body and brain. Grape-Nuts food stands preeminent as a builder of this kind of energy. It is made of the entire nutri ment of whole wheat and j barley, two of the richest sources of food strength. Grape-Nuts also includes the vital mineral elements of the grain, so much emphasized in these days of investigation ; of real food values. Crisp, ready to eat, easy to digest, wonderfully nourishing and delicious. “There's a Reason" for Grape-Nuts t I ___ THE LONE STAR RANGER A ROMANCE OF THE BORDER BY ZANE GREY Author of "The Light of Western Stare.” "Riders of the Purple Sage,”eto. HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS NEW YORK AND LONDON MCMXV CHAPTER XV (Continued). | Long since Duane had fought out a ! iattle with himself, won a hard earned , victory. His outer life, the action, was much the same as it had been; but the i inner life had tremendously changed. He could never become a happy man, he could never shake utterly those haunting phantoms that had once been hls despair and madness; but he had assumed a task impossible for any man save one like him, he had felt the meaning of It grow strangely and won derfully, and through that flourished up consciousness of how passionately he now clung to this thing which would blot out his former infamy. The iron fetters no more threatened his hands; the iron door no more haunted hls dreams. He never forgot that he was free. Strangely, too, along with this feeling of new manhood there gathered the force of imperious desire to run these chief outlaws to their dooms. He never called them outlaws—but rust lers, thieves, robbers, murderers, crim inals. He sensed the growth of a re lentless driving passion, and sometimes ho feared that, more than the newly acquired zeal and pride in this ranger service, it was the old, terrible in herited killing Instinct lifting its hydra head in new guise. Hut of that he could not be sure. He dreaded the thought. He could only wait. Another aspect of the change in Duane, neither passionate nor driving, yet not improbably even more potent of new significance to life, was the im perceptible return of an old love of nature dead during hls outlaw days. For years a horse had been only a machine of locomotion, to carry him from place to place, to beat and spur and goad mercilessly in flight; now this giant black, with hls splendid head, was a companion, a friend, a brother, a loved thing, guarded jeal ously, fed and trained and ridden with an intense appreciation of his great speed and endurance. For years the daytime, with its birth of sunrise on through long hours to the ruddy close had been used for sleep or rest in some rocky hole or willow brake or deserted hut, had been hated because it aug mented danger of pursuit, because it drove the fugitive to lonely, wretched hiding; now the dawn was a greeting, a promise of another day to ride, to plan, to remember, and sun, wind, cloud, rain, sky—all were Joys to him, somehow speaking his freedom. For years the night had been a black space, during which he had to ride unseen along the endless trails, to peer with cat eyes through gloom for the moving shape that ever pursued him; now the twilight and the dusk and the shadows of grove and canon darkened into night with its train of stars, and brought him calm reflection of the day's happenings, of the morrow’s pos sibilities, perhaps a sad, brief proces sion of the old phantoms, then sleep. For years canons and valleys and mountains had been looked at as re treats that might be dark and wild enough to hide even an outlaw; now he saw these features of the great desert with something of the eyes of the boy who had once burned for ad venture and life among them. This night a wonderful artergiow lin gered long in the west, and against the golden red of clear sky the bold, black head of Mount Ord reared itself aloft, beautiful but aloof, sinister yet calling. Small wonder that Duane gazed In fas cination upon the peak! Somewhere deep in its corrugated sides or lost in a rugged cannon was hidden the secret stronghold of the master outlaw Ches eldine. All down along the ride from El Paso Duane had heard of Cheseldine, of his band, his fearful deeds, his cunning, his widely separated raids, of his flit ting here and there like a Jack-o'-lan tern; but never a word of his den, never a word of his appearance. Next morning Duane did not return to Ord. He struck off to the north, riding down a rough, slow descending road that appeared to have been used occasionally for cattle driving. As he had ridden in from the west, his north ern dire Ion led him into totally un familiar country. While he passed on, however, he exercised such keen ob servation that in the future he would know whatever might be of service to him if he chanced that way again. The rough, wild, brush covered slope down from the foothills gradually leveled out Into plain, a magnificent grazing country, upon which till noon of that day Duane did not see a herd of cattle or a ranch. About that time he trade out smoke from the railroad, and after a couple of hours’ riding he en tered a town which Inquiry discovered to he Bradford. It was the largest town tic had visited since Marfa, and he cal culated must have 1.000 or 1,500 In habitants, not Including Mexicans. He decided this would be a good place for him to hold up for a while, being the nearest town to Ord, only 40 miles away. So he hitched his horso In front of a store and leisurely set about studying Bradford. It was after dark, however, that Duane verified his suspicions concern ing Bradford. The town was awake after dark, ami there was one long row of saloons, dance halls, gambling re sorts in full blast. Duane visited them 0.11, and was surprised to see wildness and license equal to that of the old river camp of Bland’s in Us palmiest days Here it was forced upon him that the farther west one traveled along the river the sparser tho respectable set tlements. the more numerous the hard characters, and In consequence the greater the element of lawless ness. Duane returned to his lodging house with the conviction that Mac Nelly's task of cleaning up the Big Ben-1 country was a stupendous one. Yet. he reflected, a company of in trepid and quick shooting rangers could have soon cleaned up this Brad ford. The innkepper had one other guest that night, a long, black coated and wide sumbreroed Texan who reminded Deane of his grandfather. This man had penetrating eyes, a courtly man ner. and an unmistakable leaning to ward companionship and mint juleps. The gentleman introduced himself as Colonel Webb, of Marfa, and took It ns a matter of course that Duane made no comment about himself. "Sir, it's all one to me," he said blandly, waving his hand. “I hive traveled. Texas is free, and this fron tier is one where it’s healthier and Just as friendly for a man to have nc curiosity about his companion. Yot might be Cheseldine, of the Big Bend or you might be Judge Little, of E IS Paso—it’s all one to me. I enjoy drink ing with you anyway.” Duane thanked him, conscious of a reserve and dignity that ho could not have felt or pretended three months before. And then, as always, he was a good listener. Colonel Webb told, among Other things, that he had come out to the Big Bend to look over the affairs of a deceased brother who had been a rancher and a sheriff of one of the towns, Falrdale by name. "Found no affairs, no ranch, not even his grave,” said Colonel Webb "And I tell you, sir. If hell’s any tough er than this Falrdale I don't want to expiate my sins there.” “Falrdale. • * * I imagine sheriffs have a hard row to hoe out here.” re plied Duane, trying not to appear cu rious. The colonel swore lustily. "My brother was the only honest sheriff Falrdale ever had. It was won derful how long he lasted. But he had nerve, he could throw a gun, and he was on the square. Then he was wise enough to confine his work to offend ers of his own town and neighborhood. He let the riding outlaws alone, else he wouldn’t have lasted at all. * * * What this frontier needs, sir, is about six companies of Texas rangers.” Duane was aware of the colonel's close scrutiny. "Do you know anything about the service?” he asked. "I used to. Ten years ago when I lived in San Antonio. A fine body of men, sir, and the salvation of Texas.” "fiovornor Stone doesn’t entertain that opinion," said Duane. Here Colonel Webb exploded. Mani festly the governor wAs not his choice for a chief executive of the great state. He talked politics for a while, and of the vast territory west of the Pecos that seemed never to get a benefit from Austin. He talked enough for Duane to realize that here was Just the kind of Intelligent, wmll Informed, honest citizen that he had been trying to meet. He exerted himself thereafter to be agreeable and Interesting; and he saw presently that here was an op porunitv to make a valuable acquain tance, If not a friend. "I’m a stranger in these parts,” said Duane, finally. “What Is this outlaw situation you speak of?” “It’s damnable, sir, and unbelievable. Not rustling any more, but just whole sale herd stealing. In which some big cattlemen, supposed to be honest, are equal’-- —dlty with the outlaws. On this border, you know, the rustler has always been able to steal cattle in an> numbers. But to get rid of big bunches -—that’s the hard job. The gang op erating between here and Valentine evidently have not this trouble. No body knows where the stolen stock goes. But I’m not alone in my opinion that most of it goes to several big stockmen. They ship to San Antonio, Austin, New Orleans, also to K1 Paso, If you travel the stock road between here and Marfa and Valentine you’l’ see dead cattle all along the line and stray cattle out In the scrub. The herds have been driven fast and far, and stragglers are not rounded up.” "Wholesale business, eh?” remarked Dunne. “Who are these—er—big stock buyers?” Colonel Webb seemed a little startled at the abrupt query. He bent his pen eratlng gaxe upon Duane and thought fully stroked his pointed beard. “Names, of course. I’ll not mention. Opinions are one thing, direct accusa tion another. This is not a healthy country for tho informer." When it came to the outlaws them selves Colonel Webb was disposed to talk freely. Duane could not judge whether the colonel had a hobby of that subject or the outlaws were so striking in personality and deed that any man would know all about them. The great name along the river was Cheseldine, but it seemed to be a name' detached from an individual. No per son of veracity known to Colonel Webb had ever seen Cheseldine. and .hose who claimed that doubtful honor varied so diversely In descriptions of the chief that they confused the reality and lent to the outlaw only further mystery. Strange to say of an outlaw leader, as there was no one who could identify him, so there was no one who could prove he had actually killed a man. Blood flowed like water over the Big Bend country, and it was Chesel dine who spilled it. Yet the fact re mained there were no eye witnesses to connect tiny individual called Chesel dine with these deeds of violence. But in striking contrast to this mystery was the person, character and cold blooded action of Poggln and Knell, the chiefs lieutenants. They were famil iar figures in all the towns within 200 miles of Bradford. Knell had a record, but as gunman with an incredible list of victims Poggin was supreme. If I’oggin had a friend no one ever heard of him. There were 100 stories of his nerve, his wonderful speed with a gun. his passion for gambling, his love ol a horse—his cold, implacable, inhuman wiping out of his path any man that crossed it. “Cheseldine is a name, a terrible name,” said Colonel Webb. "Some times 1 wonder if lie s not only a name. In that case where does the brains of this gang come from? No (here must be a master craftsman be hind this border pillage: a master ca pable of handling those terrors Poggln and Knell. Of all the thousands of outlaws developed by western Texas in the last 20 years, these three are the greatest. In southern Texas, down between the Pecos and the Neuces, there have been and are still many bad men. But I doubt if any outlaw there, possibly excepting Buck Duane, ever equaled Poggin. You've heard of this Duane?" "Yes, a little," replied Duane ouietly. "I’m from southern Texas. Buck Duane, then. Is known out here?” “Why, man, where isn't his name lcnowns?” replied Colonel Webb. "I’ve kept track of his record as I have all tho others. Of course, Duane, being a lone outlaw, is somewhat of a mystery also, but not like Cheseldine. Out here there have drifted many stories o! Duane, horrible some of them. Bui despite them a sort of ramance clings to that Neuces outlaw. He’s killed three great outlaw leaders. 1 believe— Bland, Hardin and the other l forgot - Hardin was known in the Big Bend had friends there. Bland had a hare I name at Del Rio.'* , "Then this man Duane enjoys rathei i an unusual repute west of the Pecos?' . inquired Duane. I “He’s considered more of an enem: — to his kind than to honest men. I under stand Duane had many friends, that whole counties swear by him—secretly, of course, for he’s a hunted outlaw with rewards on his head. His fame in this country appears to hang on his match - loss gun play and his enmity toward outlaw chiefs. I’ve heard many a rancher say: ‘I wish to God that Buck Duane would drift out here! I’d give 100 pesos to see him and Poggin meet.’ It’s a singular thing, stranger, how jealous these great outlaws are of each other.” "Yes, indeed, all about them is singu lar,” replied Duane. "Has Cheseldine’s gang been busy lately?” "No. This section has been free of rustling for months, though there’s un explained movements of stock. Proba bly all the stock that’s being shipped now was rustled long ago. Cheseldine works over a wide section, too wide for news to travel inside of weeks. Then sometimes he’s not heard of at all for a spell. These lulls are pretty surely in dicative of a big storm sooner or later. And Cheseldine’s deals, as they grow fewer and father between, certainly get bigger, more daring. There are some people who think Cheseldine had noth ing to do with the bank-robberies and train holdups during the last few years in this country. But that’s poor reason ing. The Jobs have been too well done, too surely covered, to be the work of greasers or ordinary outlaws.” "What’s your view of the outlook? How’s all this going to wind up? Will the outlaw ever be driven out?” asked Duane. "Never. There will always be out laws along the Rio Grande. All the armies in the world couldn't comb the wild brakes of that 1,600 miles of river. But the sway of the outlaw, such as is enjoyed by these great leaders, will sooner or later be past. The criminal element Hock to the southwest. But not so thick and fast as the pioneers. Be sides, the outlaws kill themselves, and the ranchers are slowly rising in wrath, if not in action. That will come soon. If they only had a loader to start the fight! But that will come. There’s talk of vigilantes, the same that were or ganized in California and are now in force in Idaho. So far it’s only talk. But the time will come. And the days of Cheseldine and Poggin are num bered." Duane went to bed that night ex ceedingly thoughtful. The long trail was growing hot. This voluble colonel hail given him new ideas. It came to Dujine in surprise that he was famous along the upper Rio Grande. Assured ly he would not long be able to conceal his identity. He had no doubt that he would soon meet the chiefs of this clever and bold rustling gang. He could not decide whether he would be safer unknown or known. In the latter case his one chance lay in the fatality connected with his name, in his power to look it and act it. Duane had never dreamed of any sleuthhound tendency in his nature, but now he felt some thing like one. Above all others his mind fixed on Poggin — Poggin the brute, the executor of Cheseldine’s will, but mostly upon Poggin the gunman. This in itself was a warning to Duane. He felt terrible forces at work within him. There -was the stern and in domitable resolve to make MacNelly'a boast good to the governor of the state —to break up Chesaldine’s gang. Yet this was not In Duane’s mind before a grim and deadly instinct — which he had to drive away for fear he would And in it a passion to kill Poggin, not for the state, nor for his word to Mac Nelly, but for himself. Had his father’s blood and the hard years made Duane the kind of man who Instinctively wanted to meet Poggin? He was sworn to MacNelly’s service, and he fought liinself to keep that, and that only. In Ins mind. Duane ascertained that Pairdal was situated two days’ ride from Bradford toward the north. There was a stage which made the Journey twice a week. Next morning Duane mounted his horse and headed for Fairdale. He rode leasurely, as he wanted to learn ail he could about the country. There were few ranches. The farther he traveled the better grazing he encountered, and. strange to note, the fewer herds of cattle. It was Just sunset when he made out a cluster of adobe houses that marked the halfway point between Bradford and Fairdale. Here, Duane had learned, was stationed a comfortable inn for wayfarers. When he drew up before the inn the landlord and his family and a number of loungers greeted him laconically. "Beat the state in, hey?” remarked one. "There she comes now,” said another. "Joel shore Is drivin’ tonight.” Far down the road Duane saw a cloud of dust and horses and a lumber ing coach. When he had looked after the needs of his horse he returned to the group before the inn. They awaited the stage with that interest com mon to isolated people. Presently it rolled up, a large mud bespattered and dusty vehicle, littered with bag gage on top and tied on behind A number of passengers alighted, three of whom excited Duane’s interest. One was a tall, dark, striking looking man, and the other two were ladies, wearing long gray ulsters and veils. Duane heard the proprietor of the inn address the man as Colonel Long streth, and as the party entered the inn Duane’s quick ears caught a few words wiiich acquainted him with the fact that Longstreth was the mayor of I'ajrdaie. Duane passed Inside himself to learn Ihat supper would soon he ready. At 1 lable ho found himself opposite the j three who had attracted his attention. “Ruth, I envy the lucky cowboys,” Longstreth was saying. Ruth was a curly haired girl with gray or hazel eyes. I'm crazy to ride bronchos,” she said. Duane gathered she was on a visit to western Texas. The other girl’s deep voice, sweet like a bell, made Du ane regard her closer. She had beauty as he hail never seen it In another woman. She was slender, but the de velopment of her figure gave Duane the Impression she was 20 years old or more. She had the most exquisite hands Dunni had ever seen. She aid not re semble the colonel, who was evidently her father. She looked tired, quiet, even melancholy. A finely chiseled oval face, clear, olive tinted skin; long eyes set wide apart and black as coal, beautiful to look into; a slender, straight nose that had something nervous and deli cate about it which made Duane think of a thoroughbred; aud a mouth by no means small, but perfectly curved; and nail like jet—all these features pro I claimed tier beauty to Duane. Duane I believed her a descendant of one of the | old French families of eastern Texas. ; He was sure of it when she looked at I him, drawn by his rather persistent i gaze. There were pride, fire, and pas S sion in her eyes. Duane felt himself | blushing in confusion. His stare at her ' had been rude, perhaps, but uncon 1. scious. How many years had passed : ! since he had seen a girl like her! 1! Thereafter he kept his eyes upon his I i plate, yet he seemed to be aware that ■! he had aroused the Interest of both ■ I girls. After supper the guests assembled I in a big sitting room where an open I fireplace with blazing mesquite sticks • gave out warmth and cheery glow ’ | Duane took a seat by a table in the corner, and, finding a paper, began tc r | read. Presently when he glanced up 1 he saw two dark faced men, strangers who had not appeared before, and were peering In from a doorway. When they saw Duane had observed them, they stepped back out of sight. It flashed over Duane that the stran gers acted suspiciously. In Texas in the '70s it was always bad policy to let strangers go unheeded. Duane pon dered a moment. Then he went out to look over these two men. The doorway opened into a patio, and across that was a little dingy, dim lighted bar room. Here Duane found the innkeep er dispensing drinks to the two stran gers. They glanced up when he en tered and one of them whispered. He imagined he had seen one ot them be fore. In Texas, wtiere outdoor men were so rough, bronzed, bold, and sometimes grim of aspect, it was no easy task to pick out the crooked ones. But Duane's years on the border had augmented a natural instinct or gift to read character, or at least to sense the evil in men; and he knew at once that these s 11 angers were dishonest. “Hev somethin’?" one of them asked, leering. Both looked Duane up and down. ’’No, thanks; I don't drink,” Duane replied, and returned their scrutiny with interest. "How's tricks in the Big Bend ?” Both men stared. It had taken only a close glance for Duane to recognize a type of ruffian most frequently met along the river. These strangers had that stamp, and their surprise proved he was right. Here the innkeeper showed signs of uneasiness and second ed the surprise of his customers. No more was said at the instant, and the two rather hurriedly went out. “Say, boss, do you know those fel lows?” Duane asked the Innkeeper. "Nope.” “Which way did they come?” “Now I think of It, them fellers rid In from both corners today,” he re plied, and he put both hands on the bar and looked at Duane. “They nooned heah, cornin’ from Bradford, they said, an' trailed in after the stage.” When Duane returned to the sitting room, Colonel Longstreth was absent, also several of the other passengers. Miss Ruth sat in the chair he had va cated, and across the table from her sat Miss Longstreth. Duane went di rectly to them. Excuse me, said Duane, addressing them. "I want to tell you there are a couple of rough looking men here. I’ve just seen them. They mean evil. Tell your father to be careful. Lock your doors—bar your windows tonight." “Oh!" cried Ruth, very low. "Ray, do you hear?” “Thank you; we’ll be careful,” said Miss Longstreth, gracefully. The rich color had faded in her cheek. “I saw those men watching you from that door. They had such bright black eyes. Is there really danger—here?" “I think so,” was Duane's reply. Soft, swift steps behind him preced ed a harsh voice: “Hands up!” No man quicker than Duane to rec ognize the intent in those words! His hands shot up. Miss Ruth uttered a little frightened cry and sank into her chair. Miss Longstreth turned white, her eyes dilated. Both girls were star ing at some one behind Duane. "Turn around!” ordered the harsh voice. The big, dark stranger, the bearded one who had whispered to his com rade in the bar room and asked Duane to drink, had him covered with a cocked gun. He strode forward, his eyes gleaming, pressed the gun against him, and with Ills other hand dove into his inside coat pocket and tore out his role of bills. Then he reached low at Duane’s hip, felt his gun and took it. Then he slapped the other hip, evi dently in search of another weapon. That done, he backed away, wearing an expression of fiendish satisfaction that made Duane think he was only a common thief, a novice at this kind of game. His comrade stood in the door with a gun leveled at two other men, who stood there frightened, speechless. “Git a move on, Bill,” called this fellow; and he took a hasty glance backward. A stamp of hoofs came from outside. Of course the robbers had horses waiting. The one called Bill strode across the room, and with brutal, careless haste began to prod the two men with his weapon and to search them. The robber in the doorway called ”Ru3tle!” and disap peared. Duane wondered where the innkeeper was, and Colonel Longstreth and the other two passengers. The bearded rob ber quickly got through with his searching and from his growls Duane gathered he had not been well remu nerated. Then he wheeled once more. Duane had not moved a misele, stand ing perfectly calm, with his arms high. The robber strode back with his blood shot eyes fastened upon tne girls. Miss Longstreth never flinched, but the little girl appeared about to faint. “Don’t yap, there!” he said, low and haru. He thrust the gun close to Ruth. Then Duane knew for sure that he was no knight of the road, but a plain, cut throat robber. Danger always made Duane exult in a kind of cold glow'. But now something hot worked within him. He had a little gun In his pocked. The robber had missed it. And he began to calculate chances. Any money, jewelry, diamonds, or dered the ruffian, fiercely. Miss Ruth collapsed. Then he made at Miss Longstreth. She stood with her hands at her breast. Evidently the rob ber took this position to mean that she had valuables concealed there. But Du ane fancied she had instinctively Pressed her hands against a throbbing heart. "Come out with it!” he said, harshly, reaching for her. "Don’t dare touch me!" she cried, her eyes ablaze. She did not move; she had nerve. It made Duane thrill. He saw he was going to get a chance. Waiting had been a science with him. But here it was hard. Miss Ruth had fainted, and that was well. Miss Longstreth had fight in her, which fact helped Duane, yet made injury possible to her. She eluded two lunges the man made at tier. Then his rough hand caught her waist, and with one pull ripped it asun der, exposing her beautiful shoulder, white as snow. She cried out. The prospect of being robbed or even killed had not shaken Miss Longstreth’s nerve as had this brutal tearing off of half her waist. The ruffian was only turned partially away from Duane. For himself he could have waited no longer. But for her! That gun was still held dangerously upward close to her. Duane w'atched only that. Then a bellow made him jerk his head. Colonel Longstreth stood in the doorway in a magnificent rage. I-Ie had no weapon. Strange how he showed no fear! He bellowed some thing again. Duane’s shifting gianco caught the robber’s sudden movement. It was a kind of start. He seemed stricken. Du ane expected him to shoot Longstreth. Instead, the hand that clutched Miss Longstreth's torn waist loosened Its hold. The other hand with its cocked weapon slowly dropped till it pointed to the floor. That was Duane’s chanco. Swift as a flash he drew his gun and fired. Thud! went his bullet, and he could not tell on the instant w hether it hit the robber or went into the ceiling. Then the robber’s gun boomed harm lessly. He fell with blood spurting over his face. Duane realized he had hit Ihlm, but the Bmall bullet had glanced. (Continued Next Week.) ••ni’WiT »i jim n u.' t ACE OF THE AIR X X LOOKS LIKE BOY : From the New York Sun. “There’s the Ace of the Air!” In the Cafe de la Paix In Paris the maitre d’hotel, Michelet, indicated a mere boy lunching alone and conscien tiously, finishing off with sliced fruits in maraschino and Genois jelly cake He looked astonishingly like Napoleon Bonaparte in his youth. “It's Navarre!" whispered Michelet. A mere boy, yet he has fought 40 aerial duel3 and brought down 14 enemy aeroplanes in flames. P.-goud is dead and Garros is a prisoner, but greater than Pegoud and Garros have strung up. The fighting pilots of France with amazing records are mere boys. The public is wild about their exploits, but has scarcely learned to recognize their faces. Navarre attracted no attention in the famous restaurant. Nobody dreamed that the Ace was in Paris. ‘‘He’s come to take back a ^iew ap paratus,” whispered Michelet. “I think it's a one seat Nieuport biplane, but I’m not certain. He flies alone. Pre vious to last September he used Mo rane-Saulnier parasol monoplunes, with a gunner behind him: but lie wanted more speed and altitude, so he fights singlehanded ” The Aee looked lonely, young and timid. Could this be the youth of whom they tell such stories? One of these stories Is that while scouting alone in a two-seat “parasol” he came down in a fog inside the Ger man lines. The machine was Intact, but he was surrounded and disarmed. A German captain had an idea. Strapping the young Frenchman se curely to the pilot's seat he jumped in behind him, pointing a revolver and saying: ‘‘We’ll explore the French trenches and rear at a low altitude. If you make a motion to land I’ll blow your brains out and pilot the machine myself!" The French boy obeyed. He steered straight to the French trenches, flew over them, reared suddenly and looped the loop. Net strapped to the seat the German captain was spilled out and went crashing to earth, while the French boy steered for headquarters and made his report. Michelet came from pouring the hero’s coffee. “He says the Fokkers are not in It with the little French ’zinc’ he knows of that ‘gases’ 125 miles per hour and mounts to 4,000 yards dead easy." (Whispering). “His brother in the American hospital won't lose his arm after all. They're great, the Ameri cans!” Tho Defeated Candidate. From the AVIchita Beacon. We know of no better training for a man than that required to be a cheerful loser In an hour of political defeat. Tf you got run over In today’s primaries It's your duty this evening to 'be pleasant and brave, to shake liand3 with the same fellows you’ve been shaking hands with for the past several weeks as you meet them, and if the man who beats you is the proper man for office In your judgment, the thing to do is to go to him and tell him that you are going to help him get elected. Most any chap can get defeated at a primary, but it takes a big man to get defeated and take it gracefully. It’s about the only chance some fellows ever have to be big. The Diplomat. From the New York World. “W ere you lonesome while I "was away, Bertram dear?" asked his wife when she returned from her trio to the seashore. "Yes, love, I was dreadfully lonesome,” replied Bertram dutifully. “But why didn't you write to me often er? T had only two letters from you the whol.: time I was away ” “Well, you see, my dear, I tried to write you, hut I couldn't make the letters sound cheerful, and I was afraid you'd discover how lonesome I was and come right home. I wouldn't have spoiled your Vacation for the world, love." And he really thought she believed him. Waiting. From the People's Home Journal. The man getting his hair cut noticed that the barber's dog, which was lying on the floor beside the chair, had his eyes fixed on his master at work. “Nice clog, that,” said tho customer. “He is, sir.” “He seems very fond of watching you cut hair.” “It ain't that, sir,” explained the bar ber. “You see, sometimes I make a'mis take and snip off a little bit of a custom er’s ear.” Some Advice. From the Philadelphia Public Ledger. The president of the German-American Alliance of New York gives its members good advice when he urges them to keep out of polities as an organization. But he would have shown an equal degree of wisdoin if he had refrained from telling them that they were subject to suspicion and persecution and hatred because of their sympathy with the land of their ancestors. The only restriction upon their liberty is the obligation as American citi zens to obey the laws. Added Years. From the Boston Transcript. Wifle—Tomorrow will bo my :Mth birth day. Hubby—Why, a year ago, Just before our wedding, you told me you were 22. Wifle—Yes. but we women age rapidly after marriage. The Right Idea. From the Birmingham Age-Herald. "Do you think you could serve a seven course dinner'.’" “Yes, mum,” replied the applicant. “Well, where would you start from?" “I'd start from the kitchen, mum.” Most Frenzied of Ail. From the Atchison Globe. The most frenzied financier is a small boy who has been beaten out of money he thought was coming to him. Hammer and Anvil. "Hammer away, ye hostile bands; Your hammers break, God's ai.vil stands.” Look forth and tel! me what they do On life’s broad field, Oh. still they fight. The false forever witli the true, The wrong forever witli the i ight. And still God’s faithful ones, as men Who hold a fortress strong and high. Cry out in confidence again, And find a comfort In the cry: “Hammer away, ye hostile hands, Your hammers break, God’s anvil stands." Older than pyramid or sphinx, Old as the stars themselves, the word Whereby, when other courage sinks, The courage born of heaven is stirred, For, when God made the world ami knew That good and evil could not blond, He planned, however, men might do. What should be. would be in the end, And, though as thick as ocean sands They rain their blows, the anvil stands. Oh. many a time has this vain world Essayed to thwart the mighty plan; Its fleets and armies have been hurled Against the common rights of man. But wrecked armadas, Wuterloos, Empires abandoned to deeav, Proclaim the truth they did not choose— What broken hammers strew the way) Though all the world together bands To smite It, still the anvil stands. Thou knowest that thv cause is just’’ Then rest in that; thy cause is sure Thy word Is true? Oh. then it must. In spite of slanderous tongues endure As toward the crag the billow rides. Then faha hack, shattered, to its placei As Tans the breeze the mountain side Nor fans the mountain from its base— no, in all times and In all lands, Men's hammers break, God’s anvt stands. —Samuel Valentine CnA