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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (July 3, 1924)
[niiiin!niiniiiiin!niiuiii(tsauuiiiiHnuiiiiiti.'iii:u!immii:iuuuiitiiiiiC2uiu;niJUHnmn!!| r5he \ Ragged Edge i Harold MacGrath I iHantftiiiti(ic3HHmiiutc2iiiiMUiiiicaiiiiuuitiiUiiiiiiiiimE3iiiUiiii(iic3iiiiiiuiiifcant!iiiiiilS She remembered that she had toot gone to bed until two o’clock In the rooming. She had carried a chair into the room veranda an\<i had watched and listened Amtil the night silences had ?*Ogthened and only occasionally ■he heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the court yard. The great ordeal—that which Ibe had most dreaded—had •roved to be no ordeal at all. [’he kindlv American consul general haa himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exeh.aiged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly Advised her. Everything had so far come to pass as the withered old Kanaka woman had foretold. “The Golden One knows that, J have seen the world; therefore follow my instructions. Never glance sideways at man. Noth ing else matters.” The prison bars of circum stance, they no longer encom passed her. Her wings were oddly weak, but for all that she could fly. That was the glorious |f bewildering truth. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. The misty Caravans of which she had dreamed were become actuali ties. She had but to choose. All (about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. Romance! fTlio romance of passing faces, of Wires that earfied voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mech anisms that propelled ships and trains i And, oh the beautiful hooks! hne swittly knelt upon tlio floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. v CHAPTER V At dinner the spinsters Invited ituth to sit at their table, an in vitation she accepted gratefully. jBhe was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneli ness to-night she distrusted. De tached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of in vading tears. To be near some one, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her • own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. The world had grown dark and wide, and she was very imall. Doubts began to rise up ill about her, plucking at her jonfidence. Could sKe go through With it? She must. Sho would never, never go hack. As usual the substantive sister ''-Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her sub mitting nods. Sometimes she misse l her cue and nodded af firmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. .Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic. IN one oE this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians Are always pothering over with out arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. But if ahe smiled at all it was with her eyes. To-night she could have tugged both the old maids. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man,” said Pru dence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock*8 direction. "Look at him!” Ruth looked. He was draining A glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. His food lay un touched about his plate. There was no disgust in Ruth’s heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. "I’m sorry," she said. "I hare no sympathy,” replied Prudence, “with a man who de liberately fuddles himself with strong drink.” “You would, if you had seen wbAt I have. Men in this part > of the world drink to forget the things they have lost.” “And what should a young man like this one have to for get 7” Prudence demanded to know. “I wonder,” said Ruth. “Couldn’t you speak to him7” “What 7—and be insulted for my trouble! No, thank you!” “That is it. You complain of a condition, but you leave the correction to someone else.” The spinster had no retort to offer such directness. This child was frequently disconcerting. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. “If I spoke to him, my in terest might be misinterpreted.” 4 4 Where did you go to school 7 ’ * Prudence asked, seeking a new channel, for the old one appear ed to be full of hidden reefs. “I never went to school.” “But you are educatedl”— astonished. “That depends upon what you call educated. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father.” Neither spinster noticed the reluctance in the tones. “Ah! I see. He suddenly realized that he could not keep you for ever in this part of the world; so he sends you to your aunt. That dress! Only a man— and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your venture dressed in a gown thirty years out of date. What is your father’s business!” The question was an imperti nence, but Ruth was not aware of that. ' Souls,’ she answered, drily. "A missionerl That illumi nates everything." The spin ster’s face actually becamo warm. "You will finish your education in the East and return. I see." "No. I shall never come back." Something in the child’s voice, something in her manner, warned the spinster that her well-mean ing inquisitiveness had received a set-back and that it WGuld be dangerous to press it forward again. What she had termed il luminative now appeared to be only another phase of the mys tery which enveloped the child. A sinister thought edged in. Who could say that the girl’s father had not once been a fashionable ' clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child’s odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cyni cal, this spinster. There was no such a thing as perfection in a mixed world. Clergymen were human. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but never-the less the thing was possible. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. The poor child 1 What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. The young man had knocked over the siphon. He rose, steadi ed himself, then walked out of the dining room. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pal lor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. He did not stagger in the least. And in this fact lay his danger. The man who staggers, whoso face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventu ally. But men of the Spurlock type, who walk straight, who are unobtrusive and intensely pale, they break swiftly and inex plicably. They seldom arrive on the beach. There are way-sta tions—even terminals. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth’s eyes. Perhaps it was loneliness. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. But he would die if he continued in this course. They were alike in one phase—loveless and lonely. If he died, hero in this hotel, who would care t Or if she died, who would caret A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to sec the folly of trying to forget. Of what use was the temporary set-back to memory, when it always returned with redoubled poignausy? Then came another thought, astonishing. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. True, on board the ships she had watched young men from afar, but only with that normal curiosity which is aroused in the presence oi any new species. But after Singapore she found herself en duing them with the character istics of the heroes in the novels she had just read for the first time. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the molan choly Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character vhieh bit far more deeply into her mind. Why! Because" she knew him in life, because, wo long as she could remember, he had crossed aud recrossed her vision—Sidney Carton. The wastrel, the ne’er do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sid ney Carton. Given the proper incentive, who could say tha* he might not likewise go nobly to some fine end? She thrilled. To find the incentive! But how? Thither and yon the idea roved, seeking the way. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wast ed effort. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in then pockets and grins in their bearhs? To set fire to his imagi nation, to sting his sense of chiv alry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present somo irresistible project. She recalled that day of the typhoon and jhe sloop crashing on the outer reefs. The heroism of two beachcombers had saved all on board and their own manhood as well. “Are you returning to Hong Kong to-morrow by the day boat?” For a moment Ruth was aston ished at the sound of the spin ster’s voice. She had, by (he magic of recollection, set the picture of the typhoon between herself and her table com panions: the terrible rollers thundering on the white shore, the deafening bellow of the palms, the thatches of the na tive huts scattering inland, the blur of sand dust, and those two outcasts defying the elements. “I don’t know,’’ she answered vaguely. “But there’s nothing more to sec in Canton.” “Perhaps I’m too tired to plan for to-morrow. Those awful chairs! After dinner the spinsters pro ceeded to inscribe their accus tomed quota of postcards, and Ruth was left to herself. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly. Beyond the steps was a pole chair in readiness. One of the coolies held the paper lantern, near-by stood Ah Cum and the young unknown, the former pro testing gently, the latter insis tent upon his demands. “I repeat,” said Ah Cum, “that the venture is not propi tious. Canton is ail China at night. If we were set upon T could not defend you. But I can easily bring in a sing-song girl to play for you.” “No. I want to make my own selection.” “Very well, sir. But If you have considerable money, you had better leave it in the office safe. You can pay me when we return. The sing-song girls in Hong-Kong are far handsomer. That is a part of the show in Hong-Kong. But here it is China.” “If you will not take me, I’ll find some guide who will.” “I will take you. I simply warn you.” Spurlock entered the office, passed Ruth without observing her (or if he did observe her, failed to jcecognize her), and de posited his funds with the man ager. “I advice you against this trip, Mr. Taber,” said the man gcr. “Affairs are not nuruu. in Canton at present. Only a few weeks ago there was a bloody battle on the bridge there between the soldiery and the local police. Look at these walls.” The walls were covered with racks of loaded rifles. In those revoluntionary times one had to he prepared. Some Chinaman might take it into his head to shout: “‘Death to the foreign devils!” And out of that wall yonder would boil battle and murder and sudden death. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. Taber. Ruth stared thought fully at the waiting coolies. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. Then she went into the office. “What is a sing-song girl?” she asked. The manager twisted his mous tache. “The same as a Japanese geisha girl ?’ ’ “And what is a geisha girl?” Not to have heard of the geisha! It was as if she had asked “What is Paris?” What manner of tourist was this who had heard neither of the geisha of Japan nor of the sing-song girl of China? Before he could marshal the necessary phrases to explain, Ruth herself indicated her thought. “■A bad girl?” She put the question as she would have put any question—level-eyed and level-toned. Alter a series of mental gym nastics—occupying the space of a few seconds—it came to him with a shock that here was a new specimen of the species. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, “The geisha and the sing-song girl are professional entertain ers. They are not bad girls, but the average tourist has that mis conception of thenv If some of them are bad in the sense you mean, it is because there are had folks in all walks of life. They sell only their talents, not their bodies; they are girls of the street.’ ’ The phrase was new, but Ruth nodded understandingly. ‘Still,” went on the manager, “they are slaves in a sense; they (TO BE CONTINUED) TODAY BY ARTHUR BRISBANE There is nothing like believing that you can win. When Caesar told the frightened boatman that his boat couldn't sink with him, Caesar, in it, wiien Napoleon really believed that his “star” would take care of him, those famous gentlemen had the best possible start In any fight self confidence. McAdoo, hurrying east from Chi cago, sticks his head out of the window and says “we can beat ’em anyway.” He looked as confident as Caesar and Napoleon combined when he said it, according to the reporters. Of course, nothing is quite sure. Unknown Caesars have sunk with the boatman after telling him the boat couldn’t sink, and many an un known Napoleon’s “star” has turned out to he only -a firet;7 However, McAdoo is the leading candidate now. There is no doubt about that. He really expects to win, anil that’s 40 per cent, of win ning. You’ve heard of England’s patrio tic exhibition at Wembley planned to boom the British empire and arouse British patriotism. The best imperial exhibit shows a map of thj world of gigantic size, with the oceans, seas and biggei lakes made of real water. llrltlshers walking around the map see all parts of the earth’s sur face owned by them lighted up by red lights from below. They see thousands of British ships moving along through the water von the great world’s trade routes. Signs tell them that the British flag files over one quarter of all the land on earth. » When the visitor from Cnnada, Australia. South Africa, sees that he says to himself “partnership in the British empire is a pretty good thing.” And other nations Including ours are bound to give the Britishers credit for governing ability. You saw the other day a statement by the British labor prime minister, MacDonald, that the whole army of the British empire is smaller tban the army of Holland or Spain. That means good managemeni. The great Everett cotton mlilB of Lawrence, Mass., have closed. “No demand for colored cotton goods.” And England Is shipp.'ng millions «ot yards of colored cotton cloth into this country. The stores dlacovse that goods sell more easily Vh«i labelled "made la England.” Adwrurwof fiWdyAm wd Ifaggedy Andy I fcrU 9ra«lU ■anzan's Magical Hobby Horse carried Raggedy Ann, Raggedy Andy, Berty Bear away swiftly through the deep, deep woods. Uttle Rags puppy dog ran as fast as he could, but he could not keep up with his friends, so be stopped to rest. When the Magical Hobby Horae threw Banzan the conjurer over hie head and the Raggedys and Berty Bear climbed upon the hobby horse and cried "Run! Runl Magic Hobby Horse!” the conjurer did not know what to do, so he Just sat still where he had fallen and scratched his head. "Now!” he said, "The Raggedys and Berty Bear have not only es caped, but they have taken my Magic Hobby Horse as well. What shall I do?” Of course there was no one to ans wer the conjurer, so he did not know what to do and when he did not know what to do, he helped himself to an ice cream soda from the magic soda water spring. This made him feel ever so much better and he thought of a scheme to fool the Raggedys while he enjoyed the sodae. l will conjure the Hobby Horse over again and make him come back here!” the cunning Banzan said. And he got out every last one of his con juring charms, even the left leg of a grasshopper whtch wasn’t hardly even a teeny weeny bit magical and soon he made the conjuring magic. Then when he had finished, he dipped up ten glasses of Ice cream soda water and with these in front of him, he waited until the hobby horse should return. ‘‘Ah! Here they come!” Banzan said with a laugh, “And the Raggedys and Berty Bear will be surprised to find the Magic Hobby Horse has brought them right back here for me to capture them again! My won’t they be s’prised?” So. when the magical funny Hobby Horse came up to where the conjurer sat, he did not even look up from his sodas. “I guess you thought, Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy and Berty Bear, that you had escaped from me! But I took out my conjuring charms and I made my hobby horse come back here. Now I spect you will not try to escape again! Will you?” When the Raggedys and Berty Bear did not reply, the conjurer became very peevish. “You had better hurry and answer me when I speak to you!” the conjurer howled In a very loud voice, "I can easily conjure you, just like I did the Hobby Horse!” But still Raggedy Andy and Rag gedy Ann and Berty Bear did not answer. “I guess I shall have to get a stick and Switch them, so that they will reply when spoken to.” When the The Hobby Horse Dashed Away Through the Woods. conjurer had cut a long stick he whirled around and struck where he thought the Raggedys and Berty Bear would he sitting upon the Horse’s back. But when the stick struck, the Raggedys were not there and the stick came down with a loud whack upon the Magical Hobby Horse’s back. The Hobby Horse was more sur prised than Banzan and kicking up his heels in the air, he dashed away through the woods. “I shall not stay and be switched by Banzan, even if he did make me out of wood and con jure magic in me! I shall run back to Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy and belong to them for Banzan Is too meai^. while the Raggedys are verv, very nice!” —f— Banzan the conjurer was so sur prised when he struck with his stick and hit his magical Hobby Horse he could scarcely believe his eyes. You see, when he wonted his con juring Magic on the Hobby Horse after the Raggedys and Berty Bear and little Rags puppy dog had run away with the Hobby Horse. Banzan expected the Raggedys to come hack riding upon the Hobby Horse’s back. Indeed, this is just what would have happened had it not been for little Rags puppy dog. When the Raggedys and Berty Bear jumped upon the Hobby Horse’s back and dashe 1 away through the woods, to escape from Banzan. they had not taken little Rags upon the Hobby Horse. And, «s the Hobby Horse was magical and could run very, very fast, little Rags could not keep up with them, so he ran as hard as he could until he became tired, then he sat down and rested. The Raggedys did not know how to work the magical Hobby Horse so that he would go Just wherever they wished, so they had to go wherever the Hobby Horse wished. So when Banzan worked his con juring magic upon the Hobby Horse to make him return to the magical Soda Water spring. the Hobby Horse turned around as soon \ e» be felt the conjuring magic and ran with the Raggedys and brrty Bear back the aame way he had come before. Little Rags had rested by this time and had started to follow the trail of the Hobby Horse and the Rag ged ys and Berty Bear. He had not gone far before he heard the "COMPITY COMP!” ot the wooden feet of the Hobby Horse returning. "Now I wonder what they are coming back for? Maybe it is be cause I have been left behind and they are returning to get mo!” SUM, this did not seem to little Rags to be the case, so he crept behind a stone He Could Peep Out With One Shoe Button Eye. at the side of the path where he could peep out with one shoe button eye and watch the Hobby Horse as he came along. As soon as the Hobby Horse came In sight, little Rags puppy dog knew that the Raggedys had nothing to do with the direction the Hobby Horse ran, for they were crying as loudly as they could, “Stop, Magic Hobby Horse!" but the Hobby Horse did not even slow up a tiny smidgin: “Ha!” little Rags thought. “I will Jump out at the Hobby Horse just as he gets here, so the Raggedys and Berty Bear can get off!’’ And Jtisi as the Hobby Horse reached the stone, little Rags, with a loud clotn bark hopped out from behind the stone right at the H»uby Horse's nose. This surprised the Hobby Horso so much he stopped and stood upon his hind legs and the Raggedys an . Berty bear tumbled off behind. Then little Rags barked at tha Hobby Horse’s hind legs and away the horse went, without the Rag gedys and Berty Bear. "My!” the Raggedys and Berty Bear said as they sat up and brush ed the dust from their clothes, "It was a good thing you waited for us, little Rags!” And little Rags was very glad, too, for If It had not been for him, Banxan’s magic would have carried them right back to the con jurer and he would have captured them again. ANCESTORS “It ye were Abraham's children, ye would do the works of Abraham.”— John 8:89. It is a curious fact that the people who boast about their ancestry usual ly do very little of which their own children may be proud. Plutarch says, "It is indeed a de sirable thing to be well descended, but the glory belongs to our ances tors.” A goodly heritage cannot reason ably be counted among our personal virtues. The only evidence of our being the sons of a worthy father is that we should ourselves do works similar to his. How futile it is to talk of our honor able ancestors but do nothing to show we have inherited their spirit. What does it profit you to show a family tree dating from the “May flower” if you neglect the Church and leave the government in the hands of the bosses while you amuse your self with the socially select? What is the use of tracing your origin to the first families of New Amsterdam unless you stand today in the forefront of the contest for religious liberty and popular educa tion? — 1 w i First Aid. From Life. Sportsman—Something ought to be done to conserve our wild life. Rounder—Repeal the eighteenth amendment. Just Like White Lies. From the Sidney Bulletin. “Yus, mister, rum’s a curse, all right. That’s why I drink beer.” “Good ness me, my man, beer is also a curse:’* “That’s right mister. But beer t» only a mild sort of curse—like 'Goodness me’!” Another Way to Look at It. From Passing Show. Maude—“What a beautiful gown Helen is wearing. She says it’s im ported, doesn’t she?” Marie—"Not exactly. It’s her last sea son’s dress, he dressmaker has turned it inside out, agd now she says it’s from the other side. Unintentionally Right From London Tit-Btts. “Mamma." exclaimed Mary, bursting Into the room, ‘‘they’re teaching domes, tic silence at school now." “You mean domestic science, dear,** corrected her mother. "Perhapr.” interposed father mildly, “the little darling means what she s| says.” He Wae Just Celebrating. From the Illinois Central Magaalne. An old negro janitor’s employer asked him why he was sporting around In hie Sunday clothes when it wasn't a holi day.” “Well, you see. boss.” he replied. "I’m celebratin’ mf golden wedding.*’ "But isn't your wife celebrating tt with you?*’ "Oh, Mand/t She ain't got nothia* to do with It. She’s jes my third wife.”