&
On a warm day there’s no more refresh
ing luncheon than Libby’s Veal Loaf,
chilled and sliced! So easy, too. Ask
your grocer for a package today.
Libby, McNeill & Libby, Chicago
. FOR PERSONAL HYGIENE
Dun'ilved in water for douche* atop*
pelv ic catarrh, ulceration and inflam
m«f -n. Recommended by Lydia E.
Pin! ham Med. Co, for tea years.
A beating wonder for natal catarrh,
tore throat and tore ay at. Economical,
Hw txuuxdintfy tktMjhM tnd (omiddal powvr.
Samel* Fred. 50c. «fl Irngjitn, or poalpui bf
^jrj._Tb^Ptltgl_roii.KIoi.p,.n/, Boiloo, Mo,
DA^FLYKILIER atoSctsa N DK n.i|
clean, orna^ontt^eonj
CAKCAl 3oSl£lU. m Uabilh Asv.. Brooklyn. N. V
Everything Lovely.
“Howdy, Gap!” sainted an acquaint
aiu-e, upon meeting the well knowi
Rumpus Ridge citizen on a shoppini
expcd.tlon In Tumllnvllle. “How’i
everything going with you?"
“Fin. r'n frog hair, .Turd!” triumph
antly replied Gap Johnson. “Of course
" ‘S'- UVVU oui IVI I'UIIJ, JU1 V
late, and several of tho children havi
got the measles and mumps and on
thing and another, and the lightnlni
struck the corner of the house tuthe
night and like to have tore the who!
place to pieces, and one of the kid
fell out of a tree und broke his arm
and a foliar took a shot nt me day be
fore yesterday and ventilated my eai
and such ns tlmt, but 1 swapped fo
a running horse last week, und
couple of my hounds have got si:
pups npiece. Aw, I tell yos. the
enn’t keep a good man down 1”—Kan
sits City Etar.
Well Known.
1 jv.us hurrying home up the hill whei
a little boy came rushing down In sucl
haste that he ran headlong into me
Ho was quite breathless and ver;
flushed.
"Have you seen my pa?” he manage*
to stammer.
“I don’t know your pa, little boy,'
(said I.
Ho looked at me la round-eyed won
ior aa;l his pink cheeks fairly stucl
' ant.
“You don’t know my pn?” he said in
crodi:! 'v.si.v. “Why, I know pa jus
js easy i”—Exchange.
BELCHING
Caused by
Acid-Stomach
Let EATONIC, the wonderful modern
stomach remedy, give you quick relief
from disgusting belching, food-repeating,
indigestion, bloatsd, gassy stomach, dyspep
sia, heartburn and other stomach miseries.
They are all caused by Acid-Stsmacti from
which about nine people out of ten suffer
in one way or another. One writes as fol
lows: "Before I used EATONIC, I could not
eat a bite without belching It right up. sour
and bitter. I have not had a bit of trouble
since the first tablet.’*
Millions are victims of Add-Stomach
without knowing it. They are weak and
ailing, have poor digestion, bodies improp
erly nourished although they may eat heart
ily. Grave disorders are likely to follow li
an acid-stomach is neglected. Cirrhosis ol
the liver. Intestinal congestion, gastritis,
catarrh of the stomach—these are only a
few of the many ailments often caused by
Acid-Stomach.
A sufferer from Catarrh of the Stomach
of 11 years’ standing writes: "I had catarrh
of the stomach for 11 long years and I nevei
found anything to do me any good—Just
temporary relief—until I used EATONIC. It
is a wonderful remedy and I do not want to
be without lt.M
If you are not feeling quite right—lack
energy and enthusiasm and don’t know just
where to locate tho trouble—try EATONIC
and see how much better you will feel In
every way.
At all drug stores—a big box for 60c add
your money back If you are not satisfied.
FATONIC
OB ('FOR YGCR ACID-STOMACH)
| KNEW THAT WOULD STOP HIM j
—
1 Lawyer Evidently Was Well Ac- j
quainted With the Weakness of
His Long-Winded Friend.
C. H. Murphy relates the story of a
Philadelphia lawyer, retired, who, In
the days of his active practice, was
’ notorious for Ills long-wlndedness.
On one occasion he had been spout
ing forth his concluding argument for
! six hours, and the end was nowhere
' In sight, when the opposing attorney I
beckoned Ills associate and whispered: J
“Can't you stop him. Jack?”
'' "IH stop him In two minutes,” Jack
1 replied confidently. And he wrote
i and passed to the orator the following
1 note:
"My Dear Colonel—As soon ns you
finish your magnificent argument I
would like you to Join me at the ho
tel In a bumper of rare old Bourbon.”
> The lawyer halted In the midst of
1 an impassioned period, put on his
• glasses, and read the note that had
r been handed him, then ho removed fits
glasses again and, taking up his hat
I and bag, he said:
“And now, mny it please the court
and gentlemen of the Jury, I leave the
case with you."
A minute later he was proceeding in
: stately fashion in the direction of the
hotel bar.
t Who’d do the work of the world if
everybody were rich?
i.;_' i : i _ |
The Finding o f
- - Jasper Holt
, BT _
Grace Livingston Hitt Lute
Author of “Marcia Schuyler", “Phoebe Deane",
“The Obsession of Victoria Oracen", etc.
r~-..
The girl on the bank caught hei
breath, but said nothing. Must the]
swim across? Was there no othei
way? She watched Hclt standing
strong and manly, in the middle o
the stream, the water above his waist
Presently, when he had gone raon
than half way across he turned ant
came ba<$_t.2_her
She was white with excitement, bu
her lips were* set and her eyes weri
bright with the intention of doing hij
"l am sorry. There'is'no^ther^^y
and We must hurry, for the sun ii
getting low We should reach tha
house before dark.”
He stooped and gathered her In hi:
strong arms, lifting her shoulder high
and stalked out Into the stream be
fore she knew what he was doing.
"Oh, please, I can walk as well ai
you,” she deprecated.
"Put your arms around my neck
please,” he commanded, and waded In
holding her high and dry above the
water.
She obeyed instantly, in trust ant
Shy wonder, and the water rose aboui
them, but did not touch her.
Once, when they were in the middle
of the stream, Holt’s foot slipped anc
for an instant it seemed as thougl
he would lose his balance, but he
lifted her the higher and almost in
stantly recovered himself. In a mo
ment more they had crossed the
stream, and he had set her dowi
upon the bank and was shaking the
water from his garments as if It were
a common thing which he had done
and he enjoyed It. She looked dowi
at herself. Not a shre»d of her gar
ments was w'et, while he was drenchet
almost to the arm pits.
“You are all wet!” she exclaimed
conscience stricken.
“You wouldn’t expect me to keei
dry in all that, would you?” he asked
with his eyes dancing.
Then they laughed like two children
and a frightened chipmunk ran chat
tering away in the trees.
"Are you all right?” he asked solicit
ously. “Are you perfectly dry?” His
voice was husky with emotion and hii
eyes tender.
"Of course I’m dry,” she answeret
dubiously, as if half ashamed of tht
fact. “Why wouldn’t I be when I’rr
treated like a baby? It seems to mt
you didn't quite keep to the terms ol
our partnership.”
“This was one of the big things,’
he said, “only I didn’t want you tt
know it. To tell you t'_e truth, I didn’l
know whether that stream was ford
able or not; and, besides, I knew thal
if you got your clothes wet again ii
would hinder you in walking. Come
we must make that house before dark
I’m hungry, aren’t you? And we’rt
pretty sure to find bacon and con
bread at least. How does that sound?’
“Good!” she cried, laughing, anc
took the hand that was held out to her
Together they ran on over the rougt
ground toward supper and rest.
But the way was longer than thej
thought, and Holt had not been ablt
to calculate on the slow steps of the
girl who was unused to such Ion;
tramps, nor to going without adequate
food. The sun went down and the
darkness was upon them before thej
were anywhere near the little house.
Once Jean stumbled and almost fell
and a sound like a half sob came fron
her throat as she clutched at his arn
to save herself. It was then he picket
her up like a tired child and carriec
her over the rough ground, until sh<
protested so vigorously that he wa:
forced to set her down and botl
stopped to rest. For, indeed, Holt’;
own strength was somewhat spent bj
this time, though he showed no out
ward sign of fatigue, having beei
trained in a school that endures nnti
it drops.
By this time they felt as if they hat
known each other for years, for then
is nothing like a common peril and i
common need to make souls know om
another, and to bring out the true sell
Ishness or unselfishness of each char
acter. Because these two had beei
absolutely forgetful of self, each fel
for the other a most extraordinary al
traction and reverence.
As they sat silently under the stars
resting, it came to their minds hav
far from strangers they now seemec
and yet how little they knew abou
each other’s lives; and they felt the
needed not to know because of wha
each had been to the other during th
night ;yrd the day that were passed.
When they started on their wa
again, arm in arm, they walked silen
ly for a time, marvelling at what th
day had brought them in knowledg
of the other's fineness.
“I cannot be mistaken," thougt
Jean. “He is fine and noble—all ths
a man ought to be. He looks as if h
had never done anything wrong, yet i
strong enough to kill the devil if b
would."
But this time the little house in th
list pace had.put a light’a its window
ind guided them twinklingly to il
loor, where three great dog3 greets
hem from afar and disputed their e:
trance.
The house was not very largo, on
■ —.—..1
4
1 three rooms. A man and his wife and
• some hired hands huddled around a
■ kerosene light, the men smoking and
, playing cards; the wife knitting silent
[ ly in the rear.
They looked up curiously to hear the
i stranger’s story, half incredulous.
[ They had not heard of any railroad ac
cident. They lived 20 miles from the
railroad and went to town only once
. a fortnight.
L “XWa yQUI .w^fe^" questioned the
householder of Holt.
‘ Jean’s face flamed scarlet as a new
i embarrassment faced her. She had not
; thought of proprieties until now. Of
course they existed even in the wilder
i ness.
Holt explained haughtily.
“H’m!” said the man still incredu
ous. “Any more in your party? Wal,
i my woman’ll take keer your woman
fer t’night, an’ in the mornin’ we ken
talk business. Yas, I’ve got horses,
but I need ’em.’’ The man looked cun
ninelv from one to the other of the
men.
Jean looked at Holt, and thought
how far above these people he seemed
as he stood haughtily by the door in
his wet and draggled clothing, with
the bearing of a young king.
“Oh, I can pay for the horses,” said
t Holt, “and see that they are returned,
. too, if that is what is the matter.”
, And he pulled out a roll of bills and
threw several carelessly on the table.
“Wal, that alters the case,” said the
, man more suavely; “of course, fer a
, consideration-”
“Can we get some supper?” asked
Holt, cutting him short. “We've had
' very little to eat all day, and this lady
is tired and hungry.”
The man’s wife bustled forward.
“Fer the land sake!” she exclaimed,
“hungry this time o’ night? We ain’t
( got much ready, but ther’ was some
corn bread and po’k lef from supper,
ef they’ll do. The men is powahful
eatahs.”
She set out the best her house af
forded, eyeing Jean’s tattered silk robe
enviously between trips to the cup
, board. The men went on with their
, card game and Jean and Holt ate in
silence. The girl was beginning to
dread the night and to wish for the
silence of the starlit world and the
protection of her strong, true friend.
She did not like the look of the men
who fumbled the dirty cards and cast
bold glances in her direction.
She was even more frightened when
,she learned the arrangements that
were to be made for the night. She
was assigned to a bunk in a small
closet like room opening from the big
room in which they were all sitting—
which appeared to be kitchen, parlor
and dining room combined, and was
to be, for that night at least, sleeping
room for Holt and the other men, sev
eral rolls of army blankets being the
only visible provision made for their
comfort.
Holt managed to get opportunity to
whisper to her as the men were dis
puting over their game while the
housewife retired to the guest cham
ber to “red up.”
“Don’t you worry,” he reassured her
softly. “I’ll bunk across in front of
your door. You can sleep and trust
me.”
She flashed up at him a bright,
weary smile that sent a thrill of joy
through him and made him feel that
nothing in life could be better than
to defend this girl who trusted him.
In the early rose ana gold of the
morning Jean awoke to the smell of
1 cooking ham and the sizzle of eggs
; frying just the other side of her thin
partition, and knew that she had slept
1 in safety under guard of her new found
“Jasper! Jasper Holt!” said a
1 strange, sweet voice within her soul,
1 and she wondered at the beauty of
the name and the thrill of possession
I she felt in it.
i Jean had a little money carefully
i sewed inside her clothing. It was to
' have done for her whole western trip
- and bought gifts for the dear ones at
- home before her return. Now she re
i alized it W3S her fortune. She made
t a bargain with the woman of the cabiu
- for a khaki skirt and blouse, of doubt
ful cut and shabby mien, but whole
, and clean. For these she gave $2 and
r the remains of the once treasured, but
, I now tattered and traveled staine, silk
II robe she wore. And so it was as a
ir western girl, in riding skirt and blouse,
t that she emerged from the little closet
a whera she had slept, but so wholly was
she able to subjugate her clothes, and
y so exquisitely did her flower face and
.- golden brown hair set them off, that
e they took on a style and beauty en
a tirely out of their nature; and their
former owner stared in wonder and
t sighed with envy as she beheld. It
t had not been the silken garment that
e made this girl a queen, but her own
s beauty of countenance and regal bear
e i ing; for here were her own old clothes
I worn like a royal robe, making the
c stranger lovely as the morning.
r, j Holt lopked at the girl In startled
s I wonder when she appeared, so trig and
d i sweet in her traveling garb, ready foi
l- the next stage of her Journey, and
: trembled with joy at the day that wai
y ‘before 1'im; albeit the ond of ttai
' Journey would bring sadness and part
ing, he knew. He wanted to knock
down the men who stared insolently,
offering audible comments on her com
plexion and bearing that made the
swift, frightened color come to her
cheeks. He ate his breakfast in
haughty silence, sitting between Jean
! and one of the men, and shielcHngTier
' as far as possible from any need of
' conversation '-save with her hostess,
who waited on them all and hovered
admiringly ’round her young guest’s
chair with offers of molasses and mush
that were fairly overwhelming.
“Any need fer a clergyman?” asked
the ugliest-of^th^ three men, leaning
forward across the'table, his knife and
fork held perpendicular each side of
his plate, a large piece of ham aloft cm
his fork. He gave an ugly wink at the
others and they laughed coarsely and
meaningly.
"Yas, you could git the elder by go
in’ about 10 mile out o’ yer way,” add
ed another, and devoted himself audi
bly to his thick cup of muddy coffee.
Holt ignored these remarks and be
gan asking questions of his host about
the crops and the exact location of the
house with regard to railroads, won
dering meanwhile, if Jean understood
thej- rough Jokes, and hoping she dij.
ff aiis_did sliO was serene with it ail,
and smiled Tier very sweetest on her
hostess, making her heart glad at the
parting by the gift of a pair of cheap,
but pretty, little cuff pins that had
been fastened on the front of her trav
eling robe.
So they mounted and rode away,
Jean like the queen of a girl that she
was, and her companion no less noble
in his bearing. The joy they felt in
me uo/ auu cavu uiuct nao urn;
equalled by their own shyness in
speaking of it.
CHAPTER VI.
They talked about many things that
morning as they rode happily toward
Hawk Valley. Holt felt no anxiety,
now, about reaching there by night,
for he knew exactly where he was and
how to get there. He had bargained
with one of the men for firearms, and
he could now shoot enough to keep
them from hunger even if they were
delayed. He had matches in his pock
et and an old cowboy hat on his head,
and he felt rested and fit for the jour
ney. For the first half of the way, at
least, he could give himself up to
the bliss of a companionship such as
he had never kn 'wn in the whole of
his young life. Reverence, awe, adora
tion we'e in his glance as he looked at
the girl, and a great, wistful sadness
grsw as the day lingered toward eve
ning.
They rode first straight down to the
telegraph station, which was about 15
miles from the settler’s cabin, and
sent reassuring telegrams from the
forlorn little office set out alone in the
middle of the prairie; one to Jean’s
' father and mother back in the eastern
| home, and one to her sister, Eleanor
! Harrington, In Hawk Valley.
“Don’t worry about accident. Am
safe and well and shall reach Hawk
Valley tonight.—Jean." said the first
message. The second Holt worded for
himself, for he had left the girl out
side the station, on her horse. She
had asked him to be sure and tell her
sister that he was with her so she
would not worry, but the message he
sent was;
“Safe and well, and on my way to
you with a friend who will look out
for me. Expect to reach Hawk Val
ley tonight.—Jean.”
Inquiry concerning the accident
brought little information. The wreck
had been on the "other road” and the
agent “hadn’t heard much.” He
"didn’t know whether many lives were
lost or not,” and he “guessed it was
the engineer’s fault, anyhow—It usual
ly was.”
They rode on their way in happy
converse. Jean was led to tell of her
home life. Not that Holt questioned
her, but she seemed to love to talk of
home, and picture her family, her
friends, the church where her father
preached, the companions of her girl
workhood, the serious school life
and church work to which she had
been devoting herself; and, above all.
he saw and wondered over the sweet
confidence that existed between this
girl and her parents. A wistful look
came into his eyes as he thought what
might have been his life it soirueone
had cared for him and trusted in him
that way; or if he had had a sister
like this girl.
UUUUOUiJ, 1U tuc IU1UAUV Wit I.U.VJ
noon the girl looked- up and asked:
“Will your mother worry? Did you
send her a telegram, to®?”
“My mother?” he said in a strange-,,
cold voice. “My mother never wor
ries about me. She isn’t that kind.
I doubt if she even knows where I am
these days. I've been west for a long
time. Father died and mother mar
ried again since I left home. I don’t
suppose she would even hear of the
accident. There’s no one to care where
' I am." There was a bitterness in the
young voice and a hardness on the
| handsome features that cast a pall
1 over the beauty of the afternoon for
' Jean.
j “Oh,” she said, looking at him ear
nestly. “Oh, don't say that! I’m sure
someone cares.”
| There were tears in her eyes. He
looked so noble and good to her, and
her heart went out to him utterly in
his loneliness. In that moment she
knew that she cared with all her heart
that she. would always car®. It was
strange and wonderful, but she felt she
would always care!
He looked at her with wonder again
1 and a yearning that he could not
hide.
“I believe you would care!” he ex
claimed.
She smiled, through a sudden misi
of tears.
“Yes, 1.Should care, I couldn’t bell
It,” she said. “You have done so much
for me you know, and I—know you so
well-she hesitated; “I don’t see
how anybody who belonged to you
could help caring.” Her cheeks were
rosy with the effort to say what she
meant without seeming unmaidenly.
''His brow darkened^
“Belonged!” he said*Mtterly. ’"Be
longed! Yes, that’s it. I don’t be
long! I don’t belong anywhere!"
His voice was so different and so
harsh that it almost frightened her.
She watched him, ha}f. afraid as he
brought his horse to a sudden stop and
looked about him. Then he changed
the subject abruptly:
“Thj.s is a good place to camp for
supper and^rest,” he said, as if he had
quite forgotten what they had been
saying.
He swung down from the saddle,
hobbled his horse, and came around to
her side to help her alight; but stood a
moment looking earnestly, tenderly in
to her eyes, and she looked back p»
him trustingly, wonderingly, with >l:e
worshipful homage a woman’s eyes
can hold for the man who has won
her tenderest thoughts. She did not
know she was looking that way, blesc
you. no} Jjke jvould have_been filled
wTtE confusion Tf sTie Tiad known rt.
It was unconscious, and the man knew
so and Treasured her look the more
for that. - ■ i «"!"**• ~
“I believe you do care, now," he said
in a voice filled with a sort of holy awe
that made the girl’s heart leap up and
the color flame into her cheeks.
Then before she could answer or
think to be embarrassed, he lifted her
reverently from the saddle and put her
on the ground.
He hobbled her horse, unstrapped
the pack of provisions and went off to
gamer up nrewouu, uui »ucu uc ic
turned she was sitting where he put
her under the tree, her face buried in
her hands, her slender form motion
less.
He stood for a moment and watched
her, then came over and knelt down
beside her, and taking her hands gen
tly from her face, looked into the
dewy depths of her sweet eyes and
spoke;
“Don’t!" he pleaded gently. “Let’s
have supper now, and then we’ll talk it
all out. Will you come and help me
make a Are?”
There was something in his strong,
tender glance that helped her to rise
to his call. A lovely smile grew in
her eyes. She let him help her to her
feet, and casting aside the reserved
shyness that had fallen over her like a
misty veil, she ran here and thore,
gathering sticks and helping to make
the fire blaze; talking merrily about
the supper they were preparing just as
she had done all day; but her heart
was in a tumult of wonder.
Holt shot a couple of rabbits and
put them to roast before the fire. Jean
set herself to toast the soggy corn
bread and make it more palatable.
Their merry laughter rang out again
and again as they prepared their sim
ple meal. They were like two children
playing house. No one looking on
would have seen any difference in their
demeanor from what it had been all
day. It was only when Holt was out in
the open, shooting rabbits, that he al
lowed the sadness and gloom to settle
down upon his young face. It was
only when he was away gathering
more wood that Jean, left to watch the
sputtering rabbits, let the corn bread
burn, while her face grew thoughtful
and her eyes sweet with a tender
light.
It was when the supper was eaten
and the fire flickering low in the dying
light of sunset that Holt came and sat
down beside the girl, and again a
great silence fell between them.
Holt had planned their homecoming
to. be in the dark. For the girl’s sake
he would not have witnesses to their
arrival. This thoughtfulness sprang
from finer feelings than the people of
Hawk Valley dreamed that he pos
sessed. There remained but a little
over an hour’s ride now to reach Hawk
Valley, and Holt did not mean they
should get there before 9 o'clock at
tne earnest.
He sat gravely quiet, his strong
hands folded across his raised knees,
his back against a tree, looking brave
ly, wistfully, off into the distance. He
seemed a great deal older, now, with
that grave, sad expression. Jean stole
a glance at him now an« then, as she
plucked at the vegetation about her,
and wondered why this appalling si
lence, which she seemed powerless to
break, had so suddenly fallen upon
them.
Then, the man’s voice broke the still
ness In a low, tense tone. “There’s
something I must tell you.”
The very air seemed waiting to hear
what he would say. The girl scarcely
breathed.
“it wouldn’t have been the square
thing for me to tell you that I loved
you if I had been the only one that
eared; but we've been through all this
| together, and it’s as if we had known
I each other for years—and—you care
| too! I can see it in your eyes. I’m
| not worthy of it—but you care—and
! £fs up to me to help you stop it. It
would be an easier Job, perhaps, if l
were used to being trusted, but it's an
honest fact that you’re the first re
| spectable person that has really trust*
: ed me since I can remember, and it
comes hard-”
I His voice broke as if an alien sob
: had wandered into his bronzed throat,
j A sob swelled In the girl’s throat, too.
1 and her little briar-scratched hand
stole out and Just touched his arm re
; assuringly with a feather glance of
pressure, and withdrew as if to say:
“I will bear my part of this trouble,
; whatever it is—please don’t Buffer
more* than, your own part.’*
| iCtURtlnuwd Nest Week.)
| The request for an increase in street W)
1 fare from 6 to (j cents HI Worla haj, (ass
i ataiiU*'