!
By Edwin L Sabin
Author of “How Are You Feeling?" ere.
T5ut her firm pose and face
Steadily to the fore invited with
r»o sign; and after covertly
Stealing a glance or two at her
clear unresponsive profile t still
could manage no theme that
would loosen my tongue. There
by let her think me a dolt. Thank
Ileaven, after another twenty
four hours at most it might not
mailer what she though.t
f The drooning round of my own
thoughts revolved over and
">ver, and the scuffing gait of the
aules upon way interminable
egan to numb me. Lassitude
jemed to he enfolding 11s both;
observed that she rode laxly,
\vith hand upon the horn and a
'weary yielding to motion.
[Words might have stirred us,
jbut no words came. Presently
I caught myself dozing in the
.caddie, aroused only by the
•twitching of my wounded arm.
vThen again I dozed, and kept
dozing, fairly dead for sleep,
[Until speak she did, her voice
drifting as from afar but fetch
ing me awake and blinking.
“Hadn’t we better stop!” she
repeated.
That was a curious sensation.
(When I stared about, uncompre
hending, my view was shut off
(by a whiteness veiling the moon
above and the earth below ex
cept immediately underneath my
Imule’s hoofs. She herself was
ia specter; the weeds that we
brushed were spectral; every
sound that we made was muf
fled, and in the intangible,
opaquely lucent shroud which
had enveloped 11s like the spirit
of r sea there was no life nor
movement.
What a the matter? I pro
pounded.
“The fog. I don’t know where
we are."
“Oh! T hadn’t noticed."
“No," she said calmly.
“You’ve been asleep."
“Haven’t you?"
“Not lately. Hut I don’t think
there’s any use in riding on.
.We’vo lost our bearings.”
She was ahead; evidently had
taken the lead while I slept. That
realization straightened me,
shamed, in my saddle. The fog,
fleecy, not so wet as impenetra
ble- -when had it engulfed us?
“How long have we been in
ft?" I asked, thoroughly vexed.
“An hour, maybe. We rode
right into it. I thought we might
leave it, but we don’t. It’s as
thick as ever. Wc ought to
stop."
“I suppose we ought," said I.
And at the moment we entered
nto a sudden clearing amidst the
log enclosure: a tract of a
[uarter of an acre, like a hollow
enter, with the white walls held
apart and the stars and moon
faintly glimmering down through
the mist roof overhead.
She drew rein and half turned
fn the saddle. I could see her
face. It was dank and wan and
heavy-eyed; her hair, somewhat
robbed of its sheen, crowned with
Is pallid golden aureole.
"Will this do? If we go on
we’ll only be riding into the fog
*gah*.”
I was conscious of the thin, ap
parently distant piping of frogs.
“There seems to be a marsh be
yond," she uttered.
“Yes, we’d better stop where
we are," I agreed. “Then in
the morning we can take stock."
f* “In the moaning, surely. We
baa/ no! ue far astray.^’ She
swung off before I had awkward
ly dismounted to help her. Her
limbs failed—my own were
clamped by stiffness—and she
Staggered and collasped with a
ittle laugh.
“I’m tired,” she confessed.
'‘Wait just a moment.”
“You stay where you are,” I
ordered, staggering also as I
hastily landed. “I’ll make
camp.”
But she would have none of
that; pleaded my one-liandedness
and insisted upon cooperating at
the mules. We seemed to be
marooned upon a small rise of
gravel and coarsely matted dried
jgrasses. The animals were stak
ed out, fell to nibbling. I sought
'a spot for our beds; laid down a
buffalo robe for her and placed
her saddle as her pillow. She
sank with a sigh, tucking her
ekirt under her, and I folded the
robe over.
Her face gazed up at me; she
extended her hand.
“You are very kind, sir,” she
aaid, in a smile that pathetically
curved her lips. There, at ray
jraass, she looked so worn, so
. u
slight, so childish, so in need of
encouragement that all was well
end that she had a friend to serve
her, that with a rush of sudden
sympathy i would—indeed 1
eouid have kisxej her, upon the
forehead if not upon the lips
themselves. It was an impulse
well-nigh overmastering an im
pulse that must have dazed me so
that she saw or felt, for a tinge
of {»ink swept into her skin; she
withdrew her hand and settled
composedly.
“Good-night. Please sleep. In
the morning we’ll reach the stage
road and your troubles will be
near the end.’’
Under my own robe I lay for
a long time reviewing past and
present and discussing with my
self the future. Strangely
enough the present occupied me
the most; it incorporated with
that future beyond the fog, and
when 1 put her out back she came
as if she were part and parcel of
my life. There was a sense of
balance; we had been associates,
fellow tenants—in fact, she was
entwined with the warp and woof
of all my memories dating far
back to my entrance, fresh and
hopeful, into the new West. It
rather flabbergasted me to find
myself thinking that the future
was going to be very tame; per
haps, as she had suggested, re
gretful. I had not apprehended
that the end should be so drastic.
And whether the regrets would
center upon my slinking home de
feated. or in having definitely
east her away, puzzled me as
sorely as it did to discover that
1 was well content to he here, j
with her, in our little clearing
amidst the desert fog, listening
to her soft breathing and debat
ing over what she might have
done had 1 actually kissed her to
comfort her and assure her that
I was not unmindful of her really
brave spirit.
Daniel had been disposed of,
Montovo did not deserve her; 1
had won her, she could inspire
and guide me if I stayed; and 1
saw myself staying, and I saw
myself going home, and I already
regretted a host of things, as a
man will when at the forking of
the trails.
The fog gently closed in during
the night. When I awakened we
were again enshrouded by the
fleece of it, denser than when we
had ridden through it, but now
whiter with the dawn. As T gaz
ed sleepily about I could just
make out the forms of the two
mules, standing motionless and
huddled; I could see her more
clearly, at shorter distance—her
buffalo robe moist with the
semblance of dew that had bead
ed also upon her massy hair.
Evidentjy she had not stirred
all night; might be still asleep.
No; her eyes were open, and
when I stiffly shifted posture she
looked across at me.
“8h!” she warned, with quick
shake of head. The same warn
ing bade me listen. In a moment
I heard voices.
CHAPTER XIX
I Stake Again
They were indistinguishable
except, as vocal sounds deadened
by the impeding fog; but human
voices they certainly were.
Throwing off her robe she
abruptly sat up, seeking, her
features tensed with the strain.
She beckoned to me. I scuttled
over, as anxious as she. The
voices might be far, they might
be near; but it was an eerie
situation, as if we were neigh
boring with warlocks.
“I’ve been hearing them some
little while,” she whispered.
“The Captain Adams men may
be trailing usf”
“I hope not! Oh, I hope not,”
she gasped, in sheer agony. “If
we might only know in time.”
Suddenly the fog was shot with
gold, as the sun flashed in. In
obedience to the command a
slow and stately movement be
gan, by all the troops of mist.
The myriad elements drifted in
unison, marching and counter
marching and rearranging, until
presently, while we crouched in
tent to fathom secrets of their
late eamp, a wondrously beauti
ful phenomonon offered.
The great army rose for flight,
lifting like a blanket. Gradually
the earth appeared in glimpses
beneath their floating array, so
that whereas oxv plot of higher
ground was still invested, stoop
ing low and sea ming we could
see boyoud us by the extent of a
narrow thinning holt capped
with the heavier white.
“There!” she whispered,
pointing. “Look! There they
are!”
Feet. legs, moving of them
selves, cut off at the knees by tiie
fog layer, distant not more than
short rifle range: that was what
had been revealed. A peculiar,
absurd spectacle of a score or two
of amputated limbs now resur
rceted and blindly in quest of
bodies.
“The Mormons!” I faltered.
“No! Leggins! Moccasins!
They ar^ Indians. We must
leave right avvav before they see
us.”
With our stuff she ran, I ran,,
for the mules. We worked rapid
ly, bridling and saddling while
the fog rose with measured
steadiness.
“Hurry!” she bade.
The whole desert was a golden
haze when having packed we
climbed aboard—she more spry
than I, so that site led again.
As we urged outward the legs,
behind, had taken to themselves
thighs. But the mist briefly
eddied down upon us; our mules’
hoofs made no sound appreci
able, on the scantily moistened
soil; we lost the legs, and the
voices, and pressing the pace I
rode,beside her.
“Where?” I inquired.
“As far as we can while the
fog hangs. Then we must hide
in the first good place. If they
don’t strike our trail we’ll be ail
right.”
The fog lingered in patches.
From patch to patch we thread
ed, with many a glance over
shoulder. But time was travel
ing faster. I marked her search
ing about nervously. Blue had
already appeared above, the sun
found us again and again, and
the fog remnants went spinning
and coiling, in last ghostly dance
like that of frenzied wraiths.
Now we came to a rough out
crop or red sandstone, looming
ruddilv on our right. She quick
ly swerved for it.
“The best chance. I see noth
ing else,” she muttered. “We
can tie the mules under cover,
and wait. We'll surely be spied
if we keep on.”
“Couldn’t we risk it?”
“No. We’ve not start
enough.”
In a moment we had gained
the refuge. The sculptured rock
masses, detached one from
another, several jutting ten feet
up. received us. We tied the
mules short, in a nook at the
rear; aud we ourselves crawled
on, farther in, until we lay snug
amidst the shadowing buttresses,
with the desert vista opening be
fore us.
he fog wraiths were very
few; the sun blazed more
vehemently and wiped them out,
so that through the marvelously
clear air the expanse of lone,
weird country stood forth clean
cut. No moving object could es
cape notice in this watchful void.
And we had been just in time.
The slight knoll had been loft not
a mile to the southwest. I heard 1
My Lady catch breath, felt her
hand find mine ay we lay almost
touching. Rounding the knoll
there appeared a file of mounted
figures; by their robes and
blankets, their tufted lances and
gaudy shields, yes, by the very
way they sat their painted
ponies, Indians unmistakably.
“They must have been camped
near us all night.” And she
shuddered. “Now if they only
don’t cross our trail. We
mustn’t move.”
They came on at a canter, rid
ing bravely, glancing right, and
left—a score of them headed by
a scarlet-blanketed man upon a
spotted horse. So transpparent
was the air, washed by the fog
and vivified by the sun, that I
could decipher the color pattern
of his shield emblazonry: a
checkerboard of red and black.
“A war party. Sioux, I
think,” she said. “Don’t they
carry scalps on that, first lance?
They’ve been raiding the stage
line. Do you see any squaws?”
“No,” I hazarded, with beat
ing heart. “All warriors, I
should guess.”
“All warriors. Hut squaws
would be worse.”
On they cantered, until their
paint stripes and daubs were
hideously plain; we might note
every detail of their savage
savage muster. They were
paralleling our outward course;
indeed, seemed to be diverging
from our ambush and making
more to the west. And I had
hopes that, after all, we were
safe. Then her hand clutched
mine firmly. A wolf had
leapod from covert in the path of
the file; loped eastward across
the desert, and instantly, with a
whoop that echoed upon us like
the craek of doom, a yonng
fellow darte-l from the line in
gay pursuit.
My Lady drew quick breath,
with despairing exclamation.
“That is cruel, cruel! They
might have ridden past; but now
—look!”
The stripling warrior (he ap
peared to be scarcely more than
a hoy) hammered in chase,
stringing his bow and plucking
arrow. The wolf cast eye over
plunging shoulder, and lengthen
ed. Away they tore, while the
file slackened, to watch. Our
trail of flight bore right athwart
the wolf’s projected route. There
was just the remote chance that
the lad would overrun it, in his
eagerness; and for that interven
ing moment of grace we stared,
fascinated, hand clasping hand.
“He’s found it! He’s found
it!” she announced, in a little
wail.
In mid-career the boy had
cheeked his pony so shortly that .
the four hoofs ploughed the sand.
He wheeled on a pivot and rode
back for a few yards, scanning
the ground, letting the wolf go.
The stillness that had settled
while we gazed and the file of
warriors, reining, gazed, gripped
and fairly hurt.. I cursed the
youth. Would to God he had
stayed at home—God grant that
mangy wolf died by trap or
poison. Our one chance made
the sport of an accidental view
halloo, when all the wide desert
was open.
The youth had halted again,
leaning from his saddle pad. lie
raised, he flung up glad hand
and commenced to ride in circles,
around and around and around.
The band galloped to him.
“Yes, lie has found it,” she
said, “now they will come.”
“What shall we do?” 1 asked
her.
And she answered, releasing
my hand.
“I dont know. But we must
wait. We can stand them off
for a while, I suppose-”
“I’ll do my best, with the re
volver,” I promised.
“Yes,” she murmured. “But
after that-?”
I liad no reply. This con
tingency—we two facing Indians
—was outside my calculations.
The Indians had grouped;
several had dismounted, peering
closely at our trail, reading it,
timing it, accurately estimating
it. They had no difficulty, for
the hoof prints were hardly dried
of the fog* moisture. The others
sat idly, searching the horizons
with their eyes, hut at confident
ease. In the wide expanse this
rock fortress of ours sc-enml to
me to summon imperatively,
challenging them. They surely
must know. Yet there they de
layed, torturing us, playing
blind, emulating cat and mouse;
but of course they were reason
ing and making certain.
(To be Continued.)
Mary Garden, very able young
woman, sails away telling the world
that she envies Ninon De U’Enclos
because a man died of love for Ninon
when she was 70.
If Miss Garden knew the rest of
the story, perhaps she wouldn't envy
the French lady. The young man
who ‘'died" was Ninon’s own son,
although he didn't know it. She had
to tell him, whereupon he immed
i iately killed himself because of the
‘‘disgrace.’’
A strange Idea of honor. It was
all right to be violently in love with
a lady, but when he discovered that
she was his own mother, lie had to
blow iris brains out.
That’s the rest of the story.
The Philippines will know, perhaps,
how to govern themselves efficiently
and thoroughly. 1,000 years from now
—the people of the United States,
perhaps in half that time.
The little Japanese flurry, which
will soon blow over, reminds you
that it is a good idea for this country
to be outside of any league.
The Senate unanimously passes a
bill Japan doesn’t like.
If we were in the league of Na
tions, gentlemen across the water
might unanimously rebuke ue and
tell us that we mustn't shut out the
Asiatics. NowGt's none of their
business. It should remain none 01
their business.
Japan goes ahead quietly with
determination and intelligence. And
she knows enough to build submar
ines. For wliat purpose do you sup
pose Rbe Is building them? Not to
take the Mikado for a little trip
certainly.
The future war will be with sub
marines and flying machines. And
this country should have plenty of
both. More than any other nation.
We can afford It. They can’t. So
much the better for peace
Been There, Too
From the Chicago News
•Traveled!” said a sailor In a train
to a passenger who had questioned him.
“[ should think I 'ave. I've been all
round the world: over and under too.
There ain’t many ports l don't know
the inside of.''
"Why. you must know a lot about
geography."
“Yes; we did put In there once, but
only to coal the ship. Tain't much of a
place, what I remember of It.’’
Just Comfortable
From Windsor
Father (home on leave)—I hope you
have been a good boy during my ab
sence. Jack?
Jack—Well, no. I'm afraid I haven't
Father—Indeed! I hope you haven't
I teen very bad?
Jack—No-o! Juat tyomfortablal
Heed Nature’s
Warning Before
It Is Too Late
Pains in the Side, Back and
Kidneys Show That Some
thing Is Wrong With Your
System — Nervousness,
Loss of Appetite and
Sleeplessness Are Ad
vance Warnings That if
Heeded Will Save Serious
Trouble Later On.
TANLAC HAS HELPED
THOUSANDS REGAIN
NORMAL HEALTH
Over 100,000 Persons Have
Testified That TANLAC
Has Corrected Stomach
Trouble, Indigestion,
Rheumatism, Nervousness
and Kindred Ailments—
—It Builds Up the System
and Starts Rich Red Blood
Coursing Through Your
Veins. All Good Drug
gists Sell TANLAC.
PARKER’S
HAIR BALSAM
RMDOTesDanaruff-StopsHalrFaUlnK
Restores Color and
Beauty to Gray acd Faded Hab
«0o. and 41.00 at Pruircrlsts.
Risers Cbem. Wka. t’atahocue.N. T.
HINDERCO&NS Removes Corns, Cal
louses, etc., stops all pain, ensures comfort to the
feet, makes walking cany. lflo. by mall or at Drug
gists. 11 fscox Chemical Works, Patchogae, II. Y.
I
'I
Lift Off-No Pain!
\ \ ,
Doesn’t hurt one bit! Drop a littlv
“Freezone” on an aching corn, instant
ly that corn stops hurting, then short
ly you lift it right off with fingers.
Your druggist sells a tiny bottle of
"Freezone” for a few cent3, sufficient to
remove every hard corn, soft corn, or
corn between the toes, and the foot
calluses, without soreness or Irritation,
Traveling Teachers
Seventy-seven traveling teachers are
employed in Cuba to give instruction
In 187 centers in sparsely populated
districts. They instruct 3,689 chil
dren.
Shave With Cuticura Soap
And double your razor efficiency al
well as promote skin purity, skin com
fort and skin health. No mug, no
slimy soap, no germs, no waste, no Irri
tation even when shaved twice daily.
One soap for all uses—shaving, bath
ing and shampooing.—Advertisement.
Certainly Not
May—Did he tickle your risibilities?
Fay (Indignantly)—Indeed, he never
touched me!
NO TROUBLE WHEN BABY CAME
r .-.. ' —.. ■■■
Mrs. Crossan Gives Credit to Lydia
E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound
Mrs, Dakan Also Tells What This
Medicine Does
St Joseph, Missouri.—"! heard so
t&uch about Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veg
etable Compound that I decided to
try it as I had had such a hard time
with my first child. I took nine bot
tles of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound and I never felt better
in my life than the day my baby girl
was born. I will be glad to tell wnat it
will do, to any woman who will let
me know her address.”—Mrs. ROSA
Dakan, 2227 S. 11th St., St. Joseph,
Missouri.
Back To Normal Health
New Orleans, Louisiana.—"I took
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com
pound while I was carrying my child
and I must praise it highly because I
never suffered one day during that
time and could do all my housework
and had a very easy confinement. I
am still taking the Vegetable Com
pound because I have a weakness due
>o working around the house too soon
after my baby was born. But thanks
agaiA to the Vegetable Compound 1
am getting back to normal health
once more. I advise any woman to
take it.”-Mrs. A. Meyn, Jr., 2019
Touro St., New Orleans, Louisiana.
Not A Bit of Trouble
Wilmington, Delaware.—“I was
nervous and weak and not at all reg
ular. I worked in a factory at the
time and could not work very much.
I was sick over a year, then a friend
told me about Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound and I started to
pick up as soon as I began taking it.
Then I took it again before my first
baby was born and I never had a bii
of trouble. I recommend it highly.’*
— Mrs. Jane Crossan, 612 Pine St.,
Wilmington, Delaware.
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable!
Compound has helped many other
women just as it nas helped Mrs.
Dakan, Mrs. Meyn and Mrs. Crossan.
Consider the statements of these
women. They give you the benefit
of their actual experience with th«
Vegetable Compound.
A nation-wide canvas9 of women
purchasers of the Vegetable Com
pound reports that 98 out of every 100
have been benefited by its use.
This is a remarkable ">cord and
proves the dependability of the medi
cine for the relief of the troubles
women often have.
For weak and run-down conditions
so common after child-birth it io well
adapted. It strengthens and tones
up the system and restores normal
health.
The Vegetable Compound contains
no harmful drugs or narcotics and
can be taken in safety by the nurs
ing mother. Foe sale by druggists
everywhere.
4tLiquor Now Poisonous”
“I never get drunk," lie hastened to
add. *‘I never got drunk in iny life.
But (he trouble Is the liquor now is
not good. It Is poisonous.”
Butter in Germany
Germany used nearly twice as much
butter as margarine before the war,
but since the war butter and marga
rine huve practically changed places.
Children Gy for
. . ... . . . v . . . » uvvv.vvvxvvtvxvvw^ V VV VVWVAV V \ VV VVWVVWV WW\ V VKV» I #
MOTHER:- Fletcher’s Castoria is
a pleasant, harmless Substitute for
Castor Oil, Paregoric, Teeth
ing Drops and Soothing
Syrups, prepared for Infants
and Children all ages.
To avoid imitations, always look for the signature of
proven directions on each package. Physicians everywhere recommend it.
Disordered Stomach I
Take a good dose of Carter’s Little Liver Pills I
—men take 2 or 3 for a few nights after. I;
You wiH relish your meal9 without fear of trouble to I
_follow. Millions of all ages take them for Biliousness, 3
\ I |\/E Ft I Dizziness. Sick Headache, Upset Stomach and for Sallow, B
^ hp|| | Oi Pimply. Blotchy Skin. They end the mben qf Constipation. I
BHBflU S-JlPin;S«B Dew; S«ll Price I