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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 5, 1916)
THE HIGHEST QUALITY MACARONI 36 fbgr Recipe Book Free SKINNER MFG.CO.. OMAHA, U.5.A. LARGEST MACARONI FACTORY 1H AMERICA_ I Sioux City Directory “Hub of the Northwest.” vZJjlI developing KOaaKS and PRINTING fiend for Catalogue and Finishing Price Ll«t ZIMMERMAN BROTHERS. 60S Pierce St.. Stoss City. I«* --1 HAIR EAL3AM A tollot preparation of merit. Help* to eradicate dandruff. For Restoring Color nnd Beauty to Cray or Faded Hair. LQc, and 11.00 at Druggists. PICTURE RECORDS OF WAF They Will Be Valuable as Object Les sons in Training the Fu ture Schools. A large proportion of the pieture» made In the European war are not in tended for public exhibition, says St Nicholas. A rigid censorship Is exer cised over nil photographic work bj the governments, exuctly us In tin case of the mulls and printed mutter The films may be developed In tin Hi hi or In nearby cities, hut they art not permitted to leave the country un til they have been passed upon. A hoard of censors sits hi a darkened room nt headquarters and scans every detail of the movies as they flash past Should some secret, valuable In any way to the army, be revealed, It II Vi uot;u ui uic iiiiu in ueou i u. The presence of the moving picture men In such numbers tit the front does not mean that the governments are going Into the show business. The photographs thus secured, at enormous expense, become matters of official rec ord and are, of course, invaluable. In no previous war has such com plete photographic reproduction been possible, and 4he government officials have been quick to take advantage of the opportunity. It is estimated that upward of 10,000 films have been pre pared by the army movie men in Ger many nlone. They are intenS^fl main ly for educational work in the military training schools. As illustration for textbooks and lectures, the war movies will have n unique value in the classroom. A les son in strategy, for instance, may bo Illustrated by a movie picture show ing the advance or retreat of troops In an actual engagement. Every phase >f military instruction may thus he Illustrated. The motion picture show ing the construction of bridges will kelp to train still more efficient engi neers in the future than in the past. 1 careful study of their value will Smko the great expense and risk in lolved In securing these Interesting tar pictures seem trifling. Arithmetically Speaking. , Tommy (to Jock, on leave)—What ■tbout the lingo? Suppose you want in egg over there, what do you say? Jock—Ye julst say, “Oof.” Tommy—But suppose you want two? Jock—Y'e say "Twn oofs,” and the Ally nuld fule wife gles ye three, und ve julst gio her back one. Man, it’s 4U awful easy language.—Punch. Wrong Time O’ Year. “That fellow seems excited about something." “Yes. lie was born in Kansas and Ibis is the tlrst time he has ever seen the ocean.” “Umph I He must be a stupid cuss to wait until the bathing season is nearly over before coming to take a took at It.” “Another Article Against Coffee”— '"*q| In spite of broad publicity, many people do not realize the harm the 2} grains of caffeine in the average cup of coffee does to many users, until thej try a 10 days’ change to POSTUM Postum satisfies the de sire for a hot table drink, and its users generally sleep | better, feel better, smile oftener and enjoy life more. A fair trial — off coffee and on Postum—shows “There’s a Reason" THE LONE STAR RANGER A ROMANCE OP TIIE 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 XXII.—(Continued.) Hike a swift shadow and ns noiseless Duane stole across the level toward the dark wall of rock. Every nerve was a strung wire. For a little while his mind was cluttered and clopped with whirl ing thoughts, from which, like a flash ing scroll, unrolled the long, baffling order of action. The game waa now In his hands. He must cross Mount Ord at night. The feat was improbable, but It might be done. He must ride Into Bradford, 40 miles from the foothills, before 8 o’clock next morning. He must telegraph MacNelly to be in Val Verde on the 26th. He must ride back to Ord, to intercept Knell, face him, be de nounced, kill him, and while the iron was hot strike hard to win Poggin's half-won interest as he had wholly won Fletcher's. Falling that last, he must let the outlaws alone to bide their time in Ord, to be free to ride on to their new job In Val Verde. In the mean time he must plan to arrest Eongstreth. It ivas a magnificent outline, incredible, alluring, unfathomable in its nameless certainty. He felt like fate. He seemed to be the iron consequences falling upon these doomed outlaws. Under the wall the shadows were black, only the tips of trees and crags showing, yet he went straight to the trail. It was merely a grayness between borders of black. He climbed and never stopped. It did not seem steep, liis feet lig’ht have had eyes. He surmounted the wall, and, looking down into the sbony gulf pierced by one point of light, re lifted a menacing arm and shook it. rhen he strode on and did not tulter till le reached the huge shelving cliffs. Here he lost the trail; there was none; but he remembered the shapes, the points, the notches of rock above, lie lore he reached the ruins of splintered •amparts and Jumbles of broken walls he moon topped the eastern slope of the mountain, and the mystifying blackness he had dreaded changed to nagic silver light. It seemed as light as lay, only soft, mellow, und the air held l transparent sheen. He ran up the bare ■hlges and down the smooth slopes, and, ike a goat, Jumped from rock to rock, n the light he knew his way and lust io time looking for a trail. He crossed Hivirln and then had all down hill jefore him. Swiftly he descended, al most always sure of his memory of the andrnarks. Ho did not remember liav ng studied them In the ascent, yet here ihey were, even In changed light, fa miliar to his sight. What he had once teen was pictured on his mind. And. ■rue as a deer striking for home, he -eachod the canon where ho had left lis horse. ,, . Bullet was quickly and easily found. Duane threw on the saddle and pack, cinched them tight, and resumed his loscent. The worst was now to come, Hare downward steps in rock, sliding, weathered slopes, narrow black gullies, 1,000 openings In a maze of brokern 4tone—these Duano had to descend in fast time, leading a giant of a horse. Bullet cracked the loose fragments, lent them rolling, sliding on the scaly dopes, plunged down the steeps, fcl awed like a faithful dog at Duane's leels. Hours passed as moments. Duano was squal to his greatest opportunity. But ie could not quell that self in him which reached back over the lapse of onely, searing years and found the boy n him. He who had been worse than lead wits now grasping at the skirts of lfe—which meant victory, honor, hap piness. Duane knew he was not Just light In part of Ills mind. Small won ler that he was not Insane, he thought! He tramped on downward, his marvel jus faculty for covering rough ground tnd holding to the true course never jefore even In flight so keen and acute. Vet all the time a spirit was keeping step with him. Thought of Ray Long streth as he had left her made him weak. But now, with the game clear to Its end, with the trap to spring, with success strangely haunting him, Duane could not dispel memory of her. Ho saw Per white face, with its sweet sad lips ind the dark eyes so tender and tragic. And time and distance and risk and toil were nothing. The moon sloped to the west. Shadows of trees and crags now crossed to the other side of him. The stars dim med. Then he was out of the rocks, with the dim trail pale at his feet. Mounting Bullet, he made short work of the long slope and the foothills and the rolling land leading down to Ord. The little outlaw camp, with its shucks and cabins and row of houses, lay silent and dark under the paling moon. Duane passed by on the lower trull, headed Into the road, and put Bullet to a gallop. He watched the dying moon, the wan ing stars, and the east. He had time to Bpare, so he saved the horse. Knell would bo leaving the rendezvous about the time Duano turned back toward <B'<1 Untnrnun nnnn an.l ennuat thhv would meet. 'the night wore on. The moon sank behind low mountains in the west. The stars brightened for a while, then faded. Gray gloom enveloped the world, thick ened, lay like smoke over the road. Then shade by shade it lightened, until through the transparent obscurity shone a dim light. Duane readied Bradford before dawn, Ho dismounted some distance from the tracks, tied his horse, and then crossed over to the station. He heard the click ing of the telegraph Instruments, and it thrilled him. The operator sat Inside reading. When Duane tapped on the window he looked uj with startled glance, then went swiftly to unlock the door. "Hello. Give me paper and pencil Quick," whispered Duane. With trembling hands the operatoi complied. Duane wrote out the mes sage he had carefully composed. "Send this—repeat ft to make sure— then keep mum. I’ll see you again Good-by.” The operator started, but did noi speak a word, Duane left as stealthily and swiftly as he had come. He walked his hors< a couple of miles back on the road anc then rested him till break of day. Th< east began to redden, Duane turner grimly in the direction of Ord. When Duane swung into the wide grassy square on the outskirts of Ore he saw a bunch of saddled horsei hitched in front of the tavern. H< knew what that meant. Duck stll favored him. If It would only hold But he could ask no more. The res was a matter of how greatly he coul< make his power felt. An open conflic against odds lay In the balance. Tha would be fatal to him, and to avoid i he had to trust to hi* name and i 1 19 | presence he must make terrible. He j knew outlaws. He knew what qualities ■ held them. He knew what to exagger ! ate. There was not an outlaw in sight. The dusty horses had covered distance that morning. As Duane dismounted he heard loud, angry voices inside the tavern. He removed coat and vest, hung them over the pommel. He packed two guns, one belted high on the left hip, the other swinging low on the right side. He neither looked nor lis tened, but boldly pushed the door and stepped inside. The big room was full of men. and every face pivoted toward him. Knell’s pale face dashed into Duane’s swift sight; then Boldt’s, then Blossom Kane’s, then Panhandle Smith’s, then Fletcher’s, then others that were famil iar, and last that of Poggin. Though Duane had never seen Poggin or heard him described, he knew him. For he saw a face that was a record of great and evil deeds. There was absolute silence. The out laws were lined back of a long table upon which were papers, stacks of sil ver coin, a bundle of bills, and a huge gold mounted gun. "Are you gents lookin’ for me?” asked Duane. He gave his voice all the ringing force and power of which he was capable. And he stepped back, free of anything, with the outlaws all be fore him. Knell stood quivering, but his face might have been a mask. The other outlaws looked from him to Duane. Jim Fletcher flung up his hands. "My Gawd, Dodge, what’d you bust in here ter'!" he said, plainly, and slow ly stepped forward. Ills action was that of a man true to himself. He meant he had been sponsor for Duane and now he would stand by him. “Back, Fletcher!” called Duane, and his voice made the outlaw jump. “Hold on. Dodge, an’ you-all, every body,” said Fletcher. “Let me talk, seein' I’m in wrong here." His persuasions did not ease the strain. “On flhAfld " snM Pnfrrrin Fletcher turned to Duane. "Pard, I’m takln’ It on myself thet you meet enemies here when I swore you’d meet friends. It’s my fault. I’ll stand by you if you let me.” "No. Jim,” replied Duane. “But what’d you come fer without the signal?” burst our Fletcher, in dis tress. He saw nothing but catastro phe in this meeting. “Jim, I ain't pressin' my company n me. But when I’m wanted bad—” Fletcher stopped him with a raised hand. Then he turned to Poggin with a rude dignity. “Foggy, lie’s my pard, an’ he’s riled. I never told him a word thet'd make him sore. I only said Knell hadn’t no more use fer him than fer me. Now, what you say goes in this gang. I never failed you in my life. Here’s my pard. 1 vouch fer him. Will you stand fer me? There’s goin’ to be hell if you don’t. An’ us with a big Job on hand!” While Fletcher tolled over his slow, ernest persuasion Duane had his gaze riveted upon Poggin. There was some thing leonine about Poggin. He was tawney. He blazed. He seemed beau tiful as fire was beautiful. But looked at closer, with glance seeing the phy sical man, instead of that thing which shone from him, he was of perfect build, with muscles that swelled and rippled, bulging his clothes, with the magnificent head and face of the cruel, fierce, tawny-eyed Jaguar. Looking at this strange Poggin, In stinctively divining his abnormal and hideous power, Duane had for the llrst time in his life the Inward quaking fear of a man. It was like a cold tongue bell, ringing within him and numbing his heart. The old instinc tive firing of blood followed, but did not drive away that fear. He knew. He felt something here deeper than thought could go. And he hated Poggin. That Individual had been consider ing Fletcher’s appeal. "Jim, I ante up,” he said, “an’ if Phil doesn’t raise us out with a big hand— why, he’ll get called, an’ your pard can set In the game.” Every eye shifted to Knell. He was dead white. He laughed, and any one hearing that laugh would have realized his intense anger equally with an as surance which made him master of the situation. “Poggin, you’re a gambler, you are— the ace high, straight flush hand of the Big Bend,” he said, with stinging scorn. "I’ll bet you my roll to a greaser peso that I can deal you a hand you’ll be afraid to play.” "Phil, you’re talkin’ wild,” growled Poggin, with both advice and menace in his tone. ii mere s anymin you naie it s a man who pretends to be somebody else when he’s not. Thet so?” Poggin nodded in slow gathering wrath. "Well, Jim’s new pard—this man Dodge—he’s not who he seems. Oh-ho! He’s a hell of a lot different. But I know him. An’ when I spring his name on you, Poggin, you’ll freeze, an’ your hand’ll be stiff when It ought to be lightnin’—All because you’ll realize you’ve been standin’ there live minutes —five minutes alive before him!” If not hate, then assuredly great pas sion toward Poggin manifested Itself in Knell's scornful, fiery address. In the shaking hand he thrust before Pog gln’s face. In the ensuing silent pause Knell’s panting could be plainly heard. The other men were pale, watchful, cautiously edging either way to the wall, leaving the principals and Duane in the center of the room. ‘‘Spring his name, then, you—” said Poggin, violently, with a curse. Strangely Knell did not even look at the man he was about to denounce. He leaned toward Poggin, his hands, his body, his long head all somewhat ex pressive of what his face disguised. “Buck Duane!” he yelled, suddenly. The name did not make any great difference in Poggin. But Knell’s pas sionate, swift utterances carried the suggestion that the name ought to bring Poggin to quick action It was i possible, too, that Knell’s manner, the i import of his denunciation, tho mean 1 lng back of all his passion held Poggin bound more than the surprise. For : the outlaw certainly was surprised, 1 perhaps staggered at the Idea that he, ; Poggin, had been about to stand spon : sor with Fletcher for a famous outlaw t hated and feared by all outlaws, i Knell waited a long moment, and then his face broke Its cold Immobility in an extraordinary expression of devil ish glee. He had hounded the great Poggin into something that gave him vicious, montrous Joy. “Buck Duane! Yes,” he broke out, hotly. “The Nueces gunman! That two-shot, ace of spades lone wolf! You an’ I—we’ve heard 1,000 times of | him—talked about him often. An’ here he is in front of you! Poggin, you were j backin’ Fletcher’s new pard, Buck { Duane. An’ he'd fooled you both but : for me. But I know him. An’ 1 know why he driften in here. To flash a gun ! on Cheseldine-—on you—on me! Bah! Don’t tell me he wanted to join the gang. You know a gunman, for you’re one yourself. Don’t you always want to meet a real man, not a four flush? It's the madness of the gunman, an' I know it. Well, Duane faced you— called you! An’ when I sprung his name, what ought you have done? What would the boss-—anybody—have expected of Poggin? Did you throw your gun, swift, like you have so often? Naw; you froze. An’ why? Because here's a man with the kind of nerve you’d love to have. Because he’s great —meetin' us here alone. Because you know he's a wonder with a gun an’ you love life. Because you an' I an' every damned man here had to take his front, each to himself. If we all drew we'd kill him. Sure! But who’s goln’ to lead? Who was goln’ to be first? Who was goin’ to make him draw? Not you, Poggin!. You leave that for a les ser man—me—who've lived to see you a coward. It comes once to every gun man. You've met your match in Buck Duane. An’, by God. I’m glad! Here’s once I show you up!” The hoarse, taunting voice failed. Knell stepped back from the comrade he hated. He was wet, shaking, hag gard, but magnificent. "Buck Duane, do you remember Hardin?” he asked, in scarcely audible voice. "Yes," replied Duane, and a flash of insight made clear Knell’s attitude. “You met him—forced him to draw— killed him?” "Yes.” "Hardin was the best pard I ever had.” His teeth clicked together tight, and his lips set in a thin line. The room grew still. Even breath ing ceased. The time for words had passed. In that long moment of sus pense Knell’s body gradually stiffened, and at last the quivering ceased. He crushed. His eyes had a soul piercing fire. Duane watched them. He waited. He caught the thought—the breaking of Knell’s muscle bound rigidity. Then he drew. Through the smoke of his gun he saw two red spurts of flame. Knell’s bullets thudded into the ceiling. He fell with a scream like a wild thing in agony. Duane did not see Knell die. He watched Poggin. And Poggin, like a stricken and astounded man, looked down upon his prostrate comrade. Fletcher ran at Duane with hands aloft. “Hit the trial, you liar, or you’ll hev to kill me!" he yelled. With hands still up, he shouldered and bodied Duane out of the room. Duane leaped on his horse, spurred, and plunged away. CHAPTER XXIII. Duane returned to Fairdale and camped in the mesquite till the 23rd of the month. The few days seemed end less. All he could think of was that the hour in which he must disgrace Ray Dongstreth was slowly but inexor ably coming. In that waiting time he learned what lovo was and also duty| When the day at last dawned he rode like one possessed down the rough slope, hurdling the stones and crashing through the brush, w'ith a sound in his ears that was not all the rush of the wind. Something dragged at him. Apparently one side of his mind.was unalterably fixed, while the other was a hurrying conglomeration of flashes of thought, reception of sensations. He could not get calmness. By and by, almost involuntarily, he hurried faster on. Action seemed to make his state less oppressive; it eased the weight. But the farther he went on the harder it was to continue. Had he turned his back upon love, happiness, perhaps on life itself? There seemed no use to go on farther until he was absolutely sure of himself. Duane received a clear warning thought that such work as seemed haunting and driving him could never be carried out in the mood under which he la bored. He hung on to that thought. Several times he slow up, then stopped, only to go on again. At length, as he mounted a low ridge, Fairdale lay bright and green before him not far away, and the sight was a conclusive check. There were mesquites on the ridge, and Duane sought the shade be neath them. It was the noon hour, with hot, glary sun and no wind. Here Duane had to have out his fight. Du ane was utterly unlike himself; he could not bring the old self back; he was not the same man he once had been. But he could understand why. It was because of Ray Longstreth. Temptation assailed him. To have her his wife! It was Impossible. The thought was insidiously alluring. Du ane pictured a home. He saw himself riding through the cotton and rice and cane, home to a stately old mansien, where long eared hounds bayed him welcome, and a woman looked for him and met him with happy and beautiful smile. There might—there would be children. And something new, strange, confounding with its emotion, came to life deep in Duane’s heart. There would be children! Ray their mother! The kind of life a lonely outcast always yearned for and never had! He saw it all, felt it all. Rut hftvnml nnrl nhnvft all Other claims came Captain MacNelly’s. It was then there was something cold and deathlike in Duane's soul. For he knew, whatever happened, of one thing ho was sure—he would have to kill either Longstreth or Lawson. Long stretch might be trapped into arrest; but Lawson had no sense, no control, no fear. He would snarl like a panther and go for his gun, and he woukl have to be killed. This, of all consumma tions, was the one to be calculated upon. Duane came out of it all bitter and callous and sore—in the most fitting of moods to undertake a difficult and deadly enterprise. He had fallen upon his old strange, futile dreams, now ren dered poignant by reason of love. He drove away those dreams. In their places came the images of the olive skinned Longstreth with his sharp eyes, and the dark, evil faced Lawson, and then returned tenfold more thril lang and sinister the old strange pas sion to meet Poggin. It was about 1 o’clock when Duane rode into Fairdale. The streets for the most part were deserted. He went di rectly to find Morton and Zimmer. He found them at length, restless, som ber. anxious, but unaware of the part ho had played at Ord. They said Long streth was home, too. It wTas possible that Longstreth had arrived home in ignorance. Duane told them to be on hand in town with their men In case he might need them, nnd then with teeth locked he set off for Longstreth's ranch. Duane stole through the bushes and trees, and when nearing the porch he heard loud, angry, familiar voices. i [ Longstreth and Lawson were quarrel ing again. How Duane’s lucky star | guided him! He had no plan of action, but his brain was equal to 100 light ning swift evolutions. He meant to take any risk rather than kill Long streth. Both of the men were out on the porch. Duane wormed his way to the edge of the shrubbery and crouched low to watch for his opportunity. Longstreth looked haggard and thin. Ho was in his shirt sleeves, and he had come out with a gun in his hand. This he laid on a table near the wall. He wore no belt. Lawson was red, bloated, thick lipped, all fiery and sweaty from drink, though sober on the moment, and he had the expression of a desperate man in his last stand. It was his last stand, though he was ignorant of that. "What's you news? You needn’t be afraid of my feelings,” said Lawson. "Lay confessed to an interest in this ranger,” replied Longstreth. Duane thought Lawson would choke. He was thick necked anyway, and the rush of blood made him tear at the soft collar of his shirt. Duane awaited his chance, patent, cold, ail his feelings shut in a vise. “But why should your daughter meet this ranger?" demanded Lawson, harshly. "She's in love with him and he's in love with her." Duane reveled in Lawson’s condition. The statement might have had the force of a juggernaut. Was Longstreth sincere? What was his game? Lawson, finding his voice, cursed Ray cursed the ranger, then Long streth. "You damned selfish fool!" cried Longstreth, in deep bitter scorn. “All you think of is yourself—your loss of tho girl. Think once of me—my home —my life.!” Then the connection siibtly put out by Longstreth apparently dawned upon the other. .Somehow through this girl her father and cousin were to be be trayed. Duane got that impression, though he could not tell how true it »rao. vci itiimy oaivsun s jealousy was his paramount emotion. “To hell with you!” burst out Law son, incoherently. He was frenzied. "I'll have her, or nobody else will!” ‘“You never will,” returned Long streth, stridently. “So help me God I’d rather see her the ranger s wife than yours.” While Lawson absorbed that shock Longstreth leaned toward him, all of hate and menace in his mien. “Lawson, you made me what I am,” continued Longstreth. “I backed you— shielded you. lou’re Cheseldine—if the truth is told! Now it’s ended. I quit you. I’m done!” Their gray passion corded features were still as stones. "Gentlemen!” Duane called in far reaching voice as he stepped out. “You’re both done!" They wheeled to confront Duane. “Don’t move! Not a muscle! Not a finger!" he warned. Longstreth read what Lawson had not the mind to read. His face turned from gray to ashen. “What d’ye mean?” yelled Lawson, fiercely, shrilly. It was not in him to obey a command, to see impending death. All quivering and strung, yet with perfect control, Duane raised his left hand to turn back a lapel of his open vest. The silver star flashed brightly. Lawson howled like a dog. With barbarous and insane fury, with sheer impotent folly, he swept a clawing hand for his gun. Duane’s shot broke his action. Before Lawson even tottered, before he loosed the gun, Longstreth leaped behind him, clasped him with left arm, quick as lightning ierked the gun from both clutching fingers and sheath. Longstreth protected himself with the body of the dead man. Duane saw red flashes, puffs of smoke; he heard quick reports. Something stung his left arm. Then a blow like wind, light of sound yet shocking in impact, struck him, staggered him. The hot rend of lead followed the blow. Duane's heart seemed to explode, yet hi3 mind kept extraordinarily clear and rapid. j Duane heard Longstreth work the action of Lawson’s gun. He heard the hammer click, fall upon empty shells. Longstreth had used up all the loads in Lawson's gun. He cursed as a man cursed at defeat. Duane waited, cool and sure now. Longstreth tried to lift tiie dead man, to edge him closer to ward the table where his own gun lay. But, considering the peril of exposing himself, he found the task beyond him. He bent, peering at Duane under Law son’s arm, which flopped out from his side. Longstreth’s eyes were the eyes of a man who meant to kill. There was never any mistaking the strange and terrible light of eyes like those. More than once Duane had a chance to aim at them, at the lop of Longstreth’s head, at a strip of his side. Longstreth flung Lawson’s body off. But, even as it dropped—before Long streth could leap, as he surely intend ed, for the gun—Duane covered him, and called piercingly to him: “Don’t jump for the gun! Don't’, I’ll kill you! Sure as God, I’ll kill you!” Longstreth stood perhaps 10 feet from the table where his gun lay. Duane saw him calculating chances. He was game. He had the courage that forced Duane to respect him. Duane just saw him measure the distance to that gun. He was magnificent. He meant to do It. Duane would have to kill him. “Longstreth, listen!” cried Duane, swiftly. "The game's up. You’re done. But think of your daughter! I’ll spare your life—I’ll try to get your freedom on one condition. For her sake! I've got you nailed—all the proofs. There lies Lawson. You’re alone. I’ve Mor ton and men to my aid. Give up. Sur rendei. Consent to demands, and 111 spare you. Maybe I can persuade Mac Nelly to let you go free back to your old country. It's for Ray's sake! Her saved! Hurry, man! Your answer!" ’ "Suppose I refuse?” he queried, with a dark and terrible earnestness. "Then I’ll kill you in your tracks! You can’t move a hand! Your word of death! Hurry. Longstreth! Be a man) For her sake! Quick! Another second , now—I’ll kill you!” ( “All right, Buck Duane; I give my word,” he said, and deliberately walked i to the chair and fell into it. i Longstreth looked strangely at the bloody blot on Duane’s shoulder. "There come the girls!” he suddenly I exclaimed. “Can you help me drag , Lawson inside? They mustn't see him.1' Duane was facing down the porch toward the court and corrals. Misd Longstreth and Ruth had come in sight, were swiftly approaching, evidently alarmed. The two men succeeded in drawing Lawson into the house before the girls saw him. “Duane, you’re not hard hit?” said Longstreth. "Reckon not,” replied Duane. “I’m sorry. If only you could have told me sooner! Lawson, damn himl Always I’ve split over him!” “Rut the last time, Longstreth!" “Yes. and I came near driving you to kill me, too. Duane, you talked me out I of it. For Ray’s sake! She’ll be In here in a minute. This’ll be harder than facing a gun.” “Hard now, but I hope it’ll turn out all right.” “Duane, will you do me a favor?" he asked, and he seemed shamefaced. "Sure.” (Continued Next Week.) STAMPS CARRY GERMS, IS SCIENCE EDICT ^ From the New York Times. Two Philadelphia scientists, Dr. Robert A. Kelly and Philip D. McMas ier, have been carrying on an investi gation in the McManus Laboratory of Pathology at the University of Penn sylvania to determine whether or not postage stamps are germ carriers. Their experiments have been com- i pleted and the results are published in 1 the current issue of the Medical / Record. I The answer to the query is "Yes." 1 They learned that out of 50 stamps ' :ested In several ways 48 yielded bac teria. On the other hand, with the pos sible exception of two cases, none of , the germs isolated could cause disease. “ This does not mean, however, that tare should not be exercised in han dling stamps, for it is just as easy for them to be impregnated with disease germs as with those that are harmless, the experimenters say. Here is a part >f their report: “The purpose of this study was to determine the normal bacterial ilora of postage stamps; that is, to get some idea of the general character of bac teria found on stamps, with especial emphasis in the search for tubercle bacilli, bacillus tetani, the colon group and diphtherial forms. Bought Stamps in Stores. "The literature on this subject la surprisingly meager and but little rec ord is made of the bacteria of stamps. The subject is usually approached from the viewpoint of the spread of infec tion by the postal service as a whole, the infection by letters and the fumi gation of letters, and but little record Is made of infection by stamps or of the bacteria of stamps. "In order to determine this, 50 stamps were bought in various stores In Philadelphia, including the central large department stores and some of the small general stores. Most of the 1 stamps were bought from sheets and a ^ few (three) from stamp books. The character of the place was noted, its general cleanliness, the clerk and his appearance, and whether the stamps were placed on the counter with the change, or not. In almost all cases they were presented with the glue side up, showing that the precepts of publio hygiene have had that much effect. “The majority of the stamps showed one or more organisms, but in no single instance were they found to be patho- V genic in type. W “This does not exclude the fact that ’ under favorable conditions certain 1 pathogenic types which would resit ‘ drying to a certain extent, might be carried on a postage stamp. On the other hand the work proves the stamp to be a carrier or organisms, and these could be readily transferred from one individual to another. This would only be of importance where the organism was pathogenic. "We have in mind a drug store where one of the members of the druggist’s family had advanced tuberculosis. Hie sputum contained many bacilli, He had a hacking cough and was the habit of protecting his mouth with his hand while coughing. During busy times he often serves customers, and not infre quently dispensed stamps to children, who would immediately moisten them with their mouths and paste them to letters. A single exposure in this case might prove negative, but the con stant exposure in some cases would undoubtedly end in infection.” These conclusions were reached by ihe investigators: Moisteners Advised. "A study of 50 stamps obtained from as many different sources, clean, dirty and indifferent, sh owed bacteria in every instance except two. “With the possible exception of two eases no organism pathogenic in type was discovered. “Aside form hygenic reasons. It is dangerous to lick postage stamps on the ground that the stamps are bac teria laden, and under favorable con ditions might easily convey pathogenic types, especially colon, diphtheria, and tubercle bacilli. “We would therefore advocate a movement to have installed in all places dispensing postage stamps a moistening device of some type. This movement could be started with ben eficent results in the postoffices of th» United States government. West Virginia’s Experience. From the Richmond Virginian. Now that Virginia is soon to pass for >ver from under the name of the licensed saloon. It may prove of interest to know low business fared In our neighborlnf itate of West Virginia when John Barley ;orn was forced to vacate. XVe recently gave the experience o» Washington state and of the city of Seat :le, as set forth by one of the staunchest loes of prohibition, the editor of the Seat :le Times, in which he declared that not mly had none of the dire prophecies ol ™ ivll come to pass, but that he was now sure that no such dire results as he one* iredlcted would ever follow the prohlbl don of the liquor traffic. In West Virginia, during the campalgi :o vote the state “dry," much the sam« irgument was advanced as became s< ’amillar to our people in Virginia in 1914 Business would be ruined, business house* vould stand idle, large capital Invested Ij ireweries would be absolutely wiped out md not only would hundreds of men dl •ectly employed In the liquor businesi le deprived of their means of livelihood >ut thousands would be indirectly af. 'ected. What has been the result In West VIr flnia? We are reliably Informed that th« mlldlmrs formerlv noonnipd hv «:ilnnn« vere promptly rented for other purposes ind that the dark prospect of vacant juildlngs and depreciated real estate ha» vanished Into thin air. In fact, many ol he saloons were already rented for othei jurposes before the whisky men vacated The capital Invested In brewery planti »as not been wiped out by anv means he breweries having been promptly con rerted to legitimate business uses. A. Charleston the Kanawha Brewing com >any, we are informed, has been convert id Into a cold storage plant, being used or that purpose by the Blagi Fruit A Produce Co., a large wholesale concern oi hat city. The brewery at Blueflfld hai >een turned Into an Ice cream plant, and ts Ice plant Is making Ice for sale, botf lepartments doing a good business, it It aid. They also use part of their building or cold storage, ^ The Fairmount Brewing company hai W rone Into the Ice cream and bottlirg bus ness, and it is said to be doing well. The Huntington brewery employs thred lmes as many men as a meat packing ioncern as it did as a brewery, and In -ddition furnishes local market for llv« tock. The Parkersburg brewerv is now bein* itilized as an Ice cream plant. \ At Wheeling the Reyman Brewing com ft lany, formerly one of the largest In t'h« W tate. has gone Into the meat packins lustiness, and employs more men than b£ The Benwood brewery Is operating as hemieal plant. We understand that the old talk of pro ilbltton hurting business is never eve* aentloned In West Virginia. The Deserted House. lushed voices of the summer winds that pass; Va|iU- dlmnes* on the vacant window ^e<8till an<^ 8^ence—these are death, an<S % there Is of presence in the Thetheeretlent ^rac® who planted The flowers that choke amid tho tangled grags —Albert Bigelow Paine, in Scribner’*