T5he ITtOJV HOUSE
NOVELIZED BY
EDWIN C. HILL
I FROM WILLIAM FOX’S GREAT PICTURE ROMANCE
OF THE EAST AND THE WEST
BY CHARLES KENYON AND JOHN RUSSELL
•
“Now, now, little feller, you’re
all safe. We’ll take care of
you. Don't talk about it.
There's not much you can tell
me.”
His first glance around tl»3
clearing had revealed tc Spence
the while story of the tragedy,
dowm to the last detail—-man
and boy surprised at their camp
fire, the murder of the father,
the boys’ escape (how ho could
not guess), tlie looting of the
camp, the disppearancc, of the
raiders. One of the men spoke:
“By G—! Spence, did ye
ever see the beat of it -that kid
buryin’ his dad nml givin’ him
the best funeral he could/ '
Spence shut him up with a
.^gesture- He motioned to his
tnen to gather up the few odds
and ends, the books and a few
tools.
» “you scout, ahead on the back
'trail,° lie ordered, and one of
rthe bearded men slipped into the
•forest.
‘ * N ow, son—Davy ’s your
name, ain’t it!—we’ll be making
tracks toward Fort Laramie.
This ain't a healthy country
right now. This is Cheyenne
work. I know their signs.
We’ll talk about that later.
Questions I want to ask. D’ye
feel able to travel?”
Davy nodded. His heart was
still too heavy for talk. Later
be was to understand the
miracle of his reacuc. Spence
had been scouting eastward
with a small party, sent by the
trader at Fort Laramie to j?et
reliable news of the alarming
reports. They had been camp
ing near Crow Creek when the
sound of riile tiring, barely
Mile, at a great distance,
reached them. Spenee’s trained
ear made out in the firing the
heavy report of *» Sharpe's and
to him every rifle spoke with an
individual voice. Indians did
not carry Sharpe’s rifles as a
general thing, so he reasoned
that a white man or white men
had been jumped by hostiles.
Leaving two men in charge of
the camp, he hurried southward
with the others, traveling fast,
until he picked up the trail of a
small party of Indians that had
veered eastward only a little
while ’ “ had fol
lowed clearing
where the Brandens had camp
Brandons had camped.
From the camp on Crow
Creek, where Spence made the
boy take rest and strong coffee,
they made their way westward,
taking the Laramie Trail. Davy
rode behind Spence or one of
the others. They made the set
tlement, twenty-five miles, late
that evening, with Davy ex
hausted ami e a r r ic d in
Spence’s arms. He was asleep
when they put him to bed in a
room back of the old trading
store, and it was late the follow
ing morning whfc-a he opened his
eyes. Miserable as he was, he
felt much better after ho had
doused his face in the water
bucket, and still better when he
had made a hearty breakfast
upon venison and bannock, with
coffee to wash it down.
In every boy there is astonish
ing resiliency. Davy was con
scious of interest in bis new sur
roundings, in the rude trading
post that had been built as far
back as 1821 by the French trad- !
er, Jacques La Itamie, in the
fort, with its quadrangle of
huge logs, its watchtowers at the
four corners, and in tho humans
that moved about the enclosure
ox* outside the stockade among
the tepees, shacks and dugouts.
Friendly Shonhoni, haters of the
Cheyennes, were in to trade
their pelts, their tanned buck
skins, for powder and ball, and
the food of the white man; tall,
splendid-looking red men carry
ing themselves haughtily. Hap
py-faced Frenchmen from the
north, fur trappers mostly, with
an interpreter or two of mixed
blood; teamsters from the Ore
gon country, strapping fellows,
usually well-ltquored with the
traders' tanglefoot whiskey at
two bits the drink; and lean,
hawk-faced scouts, free lances of
• thousand trails of mountain
ml plain, the eyes of the scat
tered posts of the fur company.
They quickened Davy’s interest,
helping him to put aside his
misery.
Silent Spence came to him
later in the day. lie found a
seat upon the bench outside the
trading store and pulled at his
pipe a long time without say
ing a word. Then:
“I’ve been thin kin’ over
your situation, little feller,’’ he
said. “You’ve been kind of a
puzzle, what to do with, but
kind o’ works out this way.
I’m driftin on west, to Californy
—'got some business out there—
and I aim to take you to Sacra
mento. I know just the place
for you. A boy hadn’t oughtcr
grow up without any schoolin’
and you can git it there. I’ve
figge/ed it all out, Davy, and
it’s the best bet as the cards
lay. This country’s no place
for a boy to be knockin’ around
in, ’specially when there’s
Injun trouble. So tomorrow
we’ll hit the trail.’’
Davy s story had become
known to everybody in the
trading host. 1Jis misfortunes,
and most of all, his manliness
amkhis bright face, had won the
hearts of the roughest of the
folk collected at the post. They
felt that something should be
done, hut nobody did anything
until Mrs. Steele, the trader’s
wife, took affairs into her capa
ble hands.
“laws amighty!” she said
that night to her speuse. “You
men make me sick. You nil
stand around and talk, talk,
talk! Why don’t you do some
thin' fer that fatherless boyV”
“What kin a feller dot”
asked Bill Steele, as one who
raves instruction from on high.
“Well if I must tell you, yon
big lummox,” said the wife of
his bosom, “you can pick up
that hat of yours lay in’ there
and drag your lazy hulk out to
every man jack in -the post.
Tell ’em to spill all they can
afford into the hat, and when
they’ve done that to reach for
more. It’d be a eryin’ shame
to start that child out without
means 1” *
Keekened Spence was see
in’ after the boy,” said Bill.
“You reckeued!” said Mrs.
Steele, scornfully. "Show me
your tracks, Bill Steele!”
Bill got, willingly enough,
for he was a goodhearted fellow,
and the result of his circuit of
the post was amazing. Every
body had contributed, the
French trappers, the swearing
I mule-whackers, the scouts and,
to Steele’s surprise, even the
Indians. Bill turned over coin
nuggets and gold dust that
Spence roughly figured out to
the value of $1,000, a lot of mon
ey in those days. Mrs. Steele
completely reclothed Davy, then
entrusted to Spence a small
pack stuffed with extra cloth
ing, articles from the shelves of
Bill’s store, a pair of boots,
shirts, hankerohiefs, a hat and
and beaded buckskin shirt,
breeches and moccasins, a pres
ent from the squaws in the
Shoshoni camp near the fort.
They started next morning,
Spence, Davy and an old scout
named Iloru that everybody
1 called "Powder,” Ho had come
into the country in ’22, with
General Ashley and Bridger
and the Kocky Mountain Fur
Company's outfit, and there he
had taken root. To Davy the
old man took a vast liking, for
the boy’s smile seemed to open
all hearts. It was old Powder
who gradually withdrew Davy’s
mind from mournful thoughts
He told him a hundred tales of
the old days, of the trip he had
made with Bridger to the Great
Salt Lake, the first white men,
probably, to gaze upon that
strange, inland sea, though there
was a legend of a visit made by
the Spanish friar, Father Escal
ante, as far back as 1776; of the
many Indian fights he had taken
part In, and of the struggles and
battles between the rival fur com
panies.
“But time* is changin’ 1” said
th« old man. "Fur critters are
skcerce, compared to what they
or.ee was. Country’s gittin’
crowded like. Don’t dook like
there's much new country left.”
For three months they rode
the trail, following tho well-beat
en road to the Green River, then
southeast through Nevada and
the foothills of the Sierras and
over the mountains past Donner
Lake along an old emigrant trail.
At Emigrant Gap they descend
ed the Sierra Nevadas at the
headwaters of the American
river, and moved down into the
valley of the Sacramento. They
eaine to the town late in
September. Spence took Davy
to the home of Henry Brewster,
a friend of many years. To the
Brcwstrs be told Davy’s story
and asked them if they would
give Davy a home and see to his
schooling. Mrs. Brewster took
Davy straight to her motherly
heart.
“He shall he our own hoy,”
^she said. If little Henry had
lived he’d be this laddie’s age.
It will cheer up the house to
have him about.”
“I can he a lot of help, ma’am,’
said David, sturdily. “I used to
sort o’ keep house for daddy.”
“Bless your heart,” said good
Mrs. Brewster- “Housekeepin’s
no work for a man-child. There
will he plenty of chores for a
lively hoy, goodness knows, but
we’ll see about that.”
“The boy pays his Avay,” said
Spence. He handed them the
buckskin hag, heavy with gold.
CHAPTER VII—
A WHITE EAGLE WITH A
RED HEART
In Sacramento, in the home of
ths Brewsters, Davy Brandon
came happily to young manhood.
He had good schooling from a
Bostonian, a stern, hard-handed
ped'agougue, yet Avith a rare fac
ulty of interesting his pupils. No
fonder of books than any other
young human animal, Davy
studied faithfully, nevertheless,
because he had given his promise
to Spenee for whom he had an
affection that touched idolatry.
Spence had been kind to his dad
dy. Spenee had brought him to
safety and a home. So Davy
waited and Avorked, yearning for
the time Avlien ho could join his
hero in that rugged company of
eagle men that ranged the
mountains and the plains.
During these years, in Avhieh
he shot up like a young pine, he
helped Ilenry Brewster keep the
store which did a brisk trade
Avith goldseekers and settlers
heading west, and Avith the trav
elers avIio had made their pile or
AA’ho had been conquered by the
country and Avcrc turning back
to the easier ways of the settled
East. To Ma BrcAVstcr Davy had
become as dear as if he had been
her oAvn flesh and blood. He
found a thousand little Avays of
easing her burdens. She blessed
the day that Silent Spenee
brought the orphaned boy to her
home.
“He’s just the best boy that
over was,” Ma Brewster often
said to husband or neighbors
“ 'Course, he’s got plenty of
spirit and devilment in him. He
won’t let anybody run over him.
not a mite. But lie’s sweet and
fine, is Davy, with a heart like
gold.”
In later years this part of his
life was always dim and vague
to Davy, perhaps because it had
been so secure, peaceful and hap
py. It was ended when he was
nearing his twenty-second year,
ended with sadness. Ma Brew
ster, whosse health had been fail
ing for years, succumbed to an
illness that even her gallant spir
it could not conquer. She passed
her last hour on earth with her
hand in Davy’s. A few weeks
alter her death IIot.ry Brewster
announced his intention of re
turning to Indiana.
“Now that Ma has gone, I just
don t care to hang on here any
longer,” he said, as they sat to
gether in the home which seemed
so empty and lonely. “1 have
done pretty well, Davy. I’ve
nmde enough to keep me com
fortable the rest of my life. Bet
ter come with me. I’ll buy a
good farm back in Dearborn
county, on the Ohio, and we’ll
run it togetheer. When I’m gone
it'll all be yours.”
‘‘Uncle Hank,” said Davy,
‘‘you have been good to me—a
real father—and I know what I
owe to you. But my heart is
here in the west. There are
things I feel I must do. You
know how my daddy died—
murdered by a white man,
butchered with an ax while he
was held down. There’s never a
day passed, Uncle Hank, that I
have not said to myself, I’ve
got to find that man and pay
him out if I ever run acroas him
—and I'll follow his trail fox
years if I ever strike it—I’ll
kill him with my bare hands.
“Then there’s the railroad
that people are talking go much
about. Some think it will never
be built. But it will be, Uncle
Hank, daddy believed in it with
all his heart. That’s what
brough him West, hope of find
ing a possible line for the road
/ through the foothills and the
* mountains. He used to talk to
me for hours about the road and
what it would do for the coun
try. He always said he wanted
me to have some part in it. May
be you think I'm foolish, but
I believe my daddy is watching
me,, hoping I will find a way to
help the road, to lend a hand in
building it.
“I hate to part from you, Un
cle Hank, but that’s the way I
feel about it. I wanted you to
understand, but I’ll go back
East with you if you say you
need me.”
Henry Brewster sat pulling his
pipe, the same old, strong-smell
ing pipe that poor Ma Brewster
used to rail against so often. For
several minutes be held his peace
staring into the leaping flame of
the fireplace.
“I reckon,” he said slowly,
“you’re on the right trail Davy.
I don’t hold much by vengeance,
an eye for an eye and a tooth
for a tooth. But I can under
stand your feelings. If I was
young 1 guess I’d feel about the
same. I guess I’d want to keep
goin’ until I’d got my hands
around the neck of that murder
in’ devil. A white renegade is a
thousand times worse’n the In
jiuas he excites to wickedness.
IIow do you calculate to come up
with him?”
I don t know yet,” said Davy.
‘‘But I know the country he
ranged in with his Cheyennes,
tlit; bad lands east of Laramie.
That was his hangout, in the
lulls. 'I he last I heard of Spence
ho was back at Fort Laramie. I
thought if you didn’t need me, I
i mignrtravel east with you to the
fort* find Spence and maybe pick
up news.”
“That’s the best plan,” said
Brewster.” You’re a grown man,
Davy. Not many around here
can best you with rifle, revolver
or fists, but you’ll need Spence’s
long head. You’re free to go.
I’d like to have you, boy, but I
\von’t stand in your way.”
Brewster had a buyer for the
stbre, one anxious enough for the
trade to pay a fair price, so this
matter was quickly disposed of.
When everything had been sold,
excepting the few household ar
ticles that he wanted to take
back East, they completed their
plans for the journey. Brewster
swrprised jmd delighted t)avy
i one morning by presenting him
(TO BE CONTINUED)
“The Man Who Died Twice”
By Edwin Arlington Robinson
(The Macmillan Company, $1.25)
There Is no keener Joy possible
to a reader than that of discover
ing'beauty in the pages of a book.
Any book worth reading at all,
may have humor, Irony, keen
characterization, absorbing plot, and
all these are causes for rejoicing.
But when you come to the phrase
or passage that makes your heart
give a sudden Jump, that perhaps
brings a tear of pure emotion to
your eye, and seems to go deep
within you and awaken echoes of
“things half felt,” then you have
been in the presence of beauty, in
sofar as you possess the power
to apprehend that rare attribute.
There is no poet living today,
with perhaps the exception of John
Masefield, whom I find so emo
tionally thrilling and so artistically
satisfying as Edwin Arlington
Robinson. And "The Man Who
Died Twice,” the Pulitzer prize
winning poem, of 1924, seems to
me the finest of any of his poems.
Perhaps that is because I have
Just finished reading it and Its
austere forco is a very present
thing.
It tells the story of Fernando
Nash, a genius who squandered his
birthright in vileness.
“There was in the man,
With all his frailties and extrava
gances,
The cast of an inviolable distinc
tion
That was to break and vanish only
in fire
When other fires that had so long
consumed him
Could find no more to burn; and
there was in him
A giant's privacy of lone com
munion
With older giants who had made a
music
Wherof the world was not impos
sibly
Not the last note; and there was
in him always.
Unqualified by guile and unsubdued
By failure and remorse, or by re
demption,
The grim nostalgia passion of the
great
For glory all but theirs."
But It is unfair to the poem, to
snatch passages here and there.
’ You must read it all to get Its
sweep and dignity. Then you will
know what I mean by dlaewoyrlng
“beauty” In the pages of a book.
After 22 Years Of Effort, Church
Union In Canada Has Been Achieved
From the New York Time3.
After twenty-two years of negotiation, church union in
Canada becomes an accomplished fact. The Presbyterian, Metho
dist and Congregational churches of the Dominion cease to func
tion as distinct denominations, and in accordance with the votes
of their governing assemblies, and with the sanction of the
Canadian parliament, merge their forces and their properties
under the name of the United Church of Canada. As the three
denominations represent a total of some 2,500,000 persons, or 30
per cent, of the Canadian population, the United Church becomes
at once the largest Protestant body in the Dominion.
The basis of union was really settled, except for minor modi
fications, in 1911, when it was almost unanimously approved by
the Methodists and the Congregationalists. Two years ago it passed
the Presbyterian General Assembly with a vote of 426 for union
and 129 against. Broadly speaking, the lengthy and detailed
document which the negotiating committees compiled aimed to
preserve in the United Church what Avas most distinctive and
valuable in the three uniting denominations. Since 1923 this
“basis of union" has come up for debate and ratification in seven
of the-Provincial Legislatures and in the Parliament at OttaAva.
In bringing together such diverse elements the United Church
represents no small achievement. Naturally, this radical step ran
counter to extreme conservative opinion in the throe bodies con
cerned. But the chief barriers to amalgamation proved to be
sentimental rather than theological. Loyalties to honored names,
honored forms, honored traditions, loomed large in the debates.
Presbyterians recalled their covenanting past; Methodists looked
back to their circuit-riding forebears, and Congregationalists
thought with affection of those early individualistic souls and
grbups who had kept the faith. In the Presbyterian church, the
congregations of which voted 1,673 for union and 657 against, a
split took place. The anti-unionists have decided to remain out
side the new church and have formed themselves into a “Presby
terian Association."
The United Church of Canada typifies the value of co-operation
and the futility of perpetuating slight denominational differ
ences in home and foreign mission fields. Church leaders in
Canada speak continually of the union as the “great adventure"
and enter upon it as pioneersr The successful culmination of the
long.years if negotiation in the Dominion for church union will
doubtless give fresh stimulus to similar movements now on foot
in Scotland and Australia, as Avell as here in the United States.
TODAY
BY ARTHUR BRISBANE.
Sunday wag the 148th anniversary
of the adoption by congress of Betsy
Ross' flag, the Stars and Stripes. No
one can deny that the flag has had
148 years of glory and decency.
It’s a fine thing to go through
148 yoars never asking for anything
that doesn't belong to you, and when
forced to tight, always winning.
If advice could save, we should all
be shved. President Lowell of Har
vard jaays the world needs foresight
and* tells seniors “to search for what
is real truth."
“What is truth?” said Jesting
Pilate, and would not wait for an
answer^’ How shall a Harvard senior,
gazing Into the big world, like a
chick fresh from its shell and still
Inside the Incubator, know what the
truth is?
Dr. Fosdick, another clergyman,
says “the lawlessness of the Ameri
can people is appalling.”
Yet things have been worse. We
have jA\irders, but fewer than one
for erory 100,900 people. They had
one In Adam and Eve's family, when
there were only four human beings'
altogether. Abel cut down the popu
lation bV 25 per cent.
The Rev. Dr. Fosdick complains of
our Jazz in music, free verse In po
etry, and in morals do as you please.
But what’s all that compared to
Sodom and Gomorrah.
We are doing well, compared with
the amclents.
Peter Dutka, ambitions Czecho
slovakian came here at 30 years
of age,.worked In coal mines, saved
money and learned English. He al
ready spoke five languages. He went
to Pennsylvania state college, studied
until 4 o’clock In the morning, cut
his sle^p to three or four hours, and
he gets his degree today.
Those that give It to him will see
a determined emaciated man, his
weight cut down 26 pounds for lack
of sleep. He will be praised, and
deserves it.
But, he could have done as well
without that degree, getting knowl
edge more slowly.
But never In his life will he be
able to make up that loss of sleep.
Remember, young gentlemen, money
gone, you can get It back. But ner
vous energy gone, through lack of
sleep, you will never recover.
Gertrude Ederle, a young American
woman planning to swim the Eng
lish channel, yesterday swam from
New York City to Sandy Hook, 18
miles, in less than eight hours. She
fought the tide during the last hour
of her swim, and finished, apparently
not fatigued. She goes to England
Wednesday, and will train for the
channel swim with Jabez Wolf, fa
mous British veteran, who several
times has tried and failed to make
the great swim.
Germany Is agitated. The great
Stinnes house, its heirs quarreling
among themselves, appears close to
bankruptcy. Other concerns totter.
The thorough Germans will make an
Intensive census and see Just how
they stand
In one way they stand well. Butch
ery of the mark has wiped out their
Internal debt. The Germans, as a, na
tion, owe nothing, except what they
owe the Allies.
Payments to the Allies amounting
to only 160 odd million dollars a year
at first, less than $3 per German per
year, will not strain tho resources of
such a country.
An Intensive census of England
Insulting.
From the Chicago News.
”1 am never going to Smith’s house
again,” declared Jones.
"Why notf” asked his wife.
"Last night they demonstrated a
machine for telling how much people
are lying.”
"Well—”
"And Just before they tried’ It on me
they poured a quart of oil on the
wheels.”
A cow owned by Ben Sherman, a
farmer, living near Worthington, la..
Is wearing an Iron leg as the result
of having broken one of her own. As
she la a valuable animal, her leg was
amputated by Dr. Walden, veterinar
ian. It was replaced by the artificial
one which Mr. Crane, the blacksmith,
conotgv-*-*
CHANCE ACQUAINTANCES.
John Burroughs.
Nearly every season I make the
acquaintance of one or more new
flowers. It takes years to exhaust
tho botanical treasures of any
one considerable neighborhood,
unless one makes a dead set at
it, like an herbalist. One like.s to
have his floral acquaintances
come to him easily and naturally,
I ke his other friends. Some pleas
ant occasion should bring you to
gether. You meet in a walk, or
touch elbows on a picnic under
a tree, or get acquainted on a
fishing or camping out expedi
tion. What comes to you In the
way of birds or flowers, while
wooing only the large spirit of
open-air nature, seems like spe
cial good fortune. At any rate,
one does not like to bolt his bot
any, but rather to prolong the
course.
anil France might show conditions
more alarming than In Germany.
Luckily for the British when war
began, the . other oountries of the
world owed British Investors $35,000,
000,000. English capitalists held for
eign securities for that amount. Dur
ing the war that was cut down by
half at least.
The British government is rich,
it has great resources and kr.jws
ho-.v to lay and collect taxes. The
British people ^tre harrassed with
taxation, and feel poor.
In France, it is the other way
around. The French government is
Poor, finds it t'ifficult to collect taxes.
The French people on the other hand,
their exports far in excess of their
imports, are, as individuals, more
prosperous than the British people.
We are the fortunate ones, here in
America, both government and peo
ple rich. Let's be grateful.
President on Tolerance.
From the Kansas City Star.
Read in the light of recent develop
ments in the United States, the
president’s address at the Norse
American Centennial yesterday was
an implied plea against the spread of
intolerance that has been menacing
the unity of American life. This, we
take, it, was the meaning his em
phasis on the way in which the na
tional spirit had come from a diver
sity of racial elements.
This spirit has developed without
compulsion, without persecution. It
has developed because American
ideals appealed to the best in human
nature of whatever race.
There has "been a tendency of late
to get away n-om this free develop
ment. Earnest persons, believing
strongly in their own ideas, have
been trying by law to run everybody
in their mold. The country lias re
cently gone through a political cam
paign in which a group tried to cre
ute x religious issue. Just now atten
tion is centered on a state where the
legislature has attempted to inter
feie with the details of the teaching
of scientific truths and has sit up its
own interpretations.
It is not in this way that the
American republic has grown. Its
founders were broadly tolerant men.
They laid down fundamental princi
ples of tolerance in the constitution.
These principles were developed un
der the leadership of Thomas Jef
ferson into a body of political doc
trines which guided the course of
the new nation.
tolerance is In the background of
a century and a half of American
history. It was to this great historical
experience that President Coolidge
so finely appealed.
Explained.
From the Freeman's Journal.
Judge—How is it you haven’t a law
yer to defend you?
Prisoner—As soon as they found out
that 1 hadn't stolen the money they
would not have anything to do with
the case.
American films have popularized the
American bungalow, with its built-in
furniture and many modern living con
veniences, to the people of Brazil. For
ty-five per cent, of the new dwellings
going up in Sao Paulo, Brazil, at the
present time, are copied from the Cal
ifornia product. The only difficulty en
countered Is the general absence of a
servants room; all middle class Bra
silians have servant* duo to the cheap
ness of labor.
