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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 27, 1931)
m jKt CHAFFEE of ROARING HORSE •Y ERNEST MAYCOX T~~ ~" J -“ Chaffee turned so that he fully faced the man. Thus they stood, each with his back to the wall, the length of the room between them, the /liokerlng lamp on the table marking a dead line. Across Ita smoking funnel he viewed Perrine. This was the show down, the culmination of their years of bitter antagon ism, the climax of their hos tility. It was in the cards that they should meet and match guns; the prophecy of it had been abroad in the country many seasons. Month by month their paths had ap proached nearer; now those paths joined and the single trail was too narrow for both to walk along. “Reckon it had to come,” drawled Chaffee. “You said once you’d go clear across America to get me. I said I wouldn’t go near that dis tance. Fact. I could let you alone. It's a big world and plenty of room for all. But you ain’t built to let me alone. Top of the pile or nothing for you, Theodorik. I’m not back in’ down. Just statin’ a fact. But It’s a poor play for you. You’d ought to be miles away from Roarin’ Horse by now. Don’t you know your time is past,? Well—I’ll wait for you to draw." “Not for me,” said Perrine, growing angry. “I don’t have to take odds. Not from any man livin’. Which applies to you, Chaffee.” The lamp fun nel sent up a spiral of smoke, the glass was clouding with •oot, Perrine stared at It, and hie body trembled with a mirthless laughter. “Let the lamp decide. It’s almost out of oil. When the flame leaves the wick—we draw.” "Fair enough. You’re a hand to do things fancy, Theodorlk.” "You bet. I make a splash when I Jump. That damn’ Woolfridge! Yella dawg! With all his fancy airs he wanted to jump the bucket and leave me to play the fiddle.” "He’s in jail now,” said Chaffee. "Yeah? He ought to be in hell. He wanted to run. So did his men. So did mine. I ain’t runnin’—not till I’m through with you. Here I stand on my hind laigs, too big a man to be budged afore my time. It takes more’n a pack o’ home •teaders to pull me down. I’m Theodorlk Perrine!” "And proud of it,” mur mured Chaffee. There was a draught of air coming into this small room. It crossed the lamp chimney and sucked at the light. That light might last five minutes; it might snuff out within the drawing of a breath. Chance—the sporting of the gods. It had always been this way with Theodorlk Perrine and him self. The ,giant seemed to understand what Chaffee was thinking about, for his grin broadened and his teeth shimmered against the black background of his face. He enjoyed this, or appeared to. As for Chaffee, his nerves were caught by a strange chill and his finger tips felt re mote. He was a good and com petent hand with the gun, but Perrine’s reputation had been a thing of legend and mystery. And Perrine always had fos tered the reputation, never revealing his skill in public. "You bet I’m proud,” said Perrine. It sounded as^lf he spoke against time. "I cover a lot of ground. I cast a big shadder. I can do everything bettern’ you, which we will prove in another minute. About them hawsses—that was yore luck. It’s alius been yore Kick to draw meaner brutes than me. I can ride anythin’ lhat wears hair, but I nev’ iould show on the leather fevered easy chairs they i gimme. I don’t like you—never did and never will. I'll be runnin’ yore name into the ground a long time after yore dead. You been in my way too long. Yuh’ve hogged the middle o’ the stage when it was my place by rights and— the light’s out!” The room was a cramped cell of blackness, the stink of kerosene filling Jim Chaffee’s nostrils. He heard Perrine’s mighty hand slap against a gun butt, and he found him self weaving on his feet, crouched forward like a wrestler; everything was atremble with sound, every thing shook under the blast ing reports that filled the place. Purple lights flashed and trailed into nothing; there was the spat of bullets behind him. He thought he had fired twice and the belief somehow disheartened him; he felt numb. Then Perrine’s breathing came short and quick; rose to a titanic effort and sank to laggard spurts. Perrine was falling; and in falling carried everything around him, like the down sweep of a tree. The table '‘Perrine’s in there,” sal j he. capsized; the lamp smashed and Jangled on the floor. Then Perrine was speaking for the last time. "Never believe yuh—is a better man. Luck. Alius luck.” So he died with this faith in himself, going down the cor ridor of eternity. Callahan s was of a sudden full of men. Chaffee opened ' the office door and faced the light. Homesteaders ranged around the walls; Stirrup S men piled through. But when they saw him and observed the bleak gravity of his eyes * they stopped. "I beat him to the diaw.” That was all he said/ He forced a way through the crowd and hurried down the street. Dur ing the last half hour there had been a thought and a de sire in his head; he had been fighting against interruption. There was nothing now that could stay him, nothing to stop him from going to Gay and telling her what clamored for expression. Behind, he heard a vast upheaval in Cal lahan’s. The saloon was being torn apart, a target for the long suppressed animosity of the Stirrup S men against the headquarters of every dis ; turbing element in Roaring Horse. Another time and he ! might have turned back to check that, but now only one purpose swayed him; thus he shouldered through the guards and turned into the Gusher. The clerk, discreetly absent during the turmoil, was again in the lobby. “Have you seen Miss That cher recently?” asked Chaf fee. “Not since right after she left the dining room,” replied the clerk. “She stayed down here a minute and then went upstairs.” For the first time that even ing Chaffee considered the possible significance of her room’s open door. The thought sent him up the steps three at a time. The door was still open, the room still empty. He entered, looking about, trying to see if there had been marks of disturbance. But as he ♦peered into the clothes closet he heard a faint murmur of a woman’s voice somewhere in the hall. He hurried out, the sound leading him back to the landing, pulling him to the bottom of the rear stairs and across the . kitchen to the storeroom. He put his hand to the door, finding it locked; and that isolated fact in all the night’s turbulence aroused a hot anger. (TO B»- CONTINUED) EDUCATION AFTER 64 YEARS Columbia, Mo.,—(UP)—Waller L. ffcurch, 83, of Long Beach, Calif., Atained an A. B. degree from the j university of Missouri just 64 years tge. and now he Is coming back to Csome more education. Church several degrees from three fnlvcrsltles and will specialize In Cology and educational ork tills e. University officials have re aelved word he will be here to enter aebool this fall. CRUISER GIVES 1.SM WORK Philadelphia—(UP) — When the heel of the ne treat* am Her Minn*- i apoUs was laid down at the League Island navy yard here recently, It menat that 1.800 additional work men would be employed by the navy department. It will take two and a half years to build the boat, acoordlng to officials of the navy yard. PAVING RECORD CLAIMED Council BlufTs, la. — (UP) — C. Y. Sernstrbm, highway engineer, claims a national record for his pav ing crew which laid 2,200 feet of ooncrete highway in 14 hours. It is the longest paving atreidh ever ac complished in a day bv a single THIS CURIOUS WORLD Henry Hudson, The otSlcH bxplppepl, OJAS ah - ENGLISHMAN ••• A C/TIzem cf LoftVoti iw The last Teu y&xs, HAS HAD ONE'TuJ£lf(H of Us ToJal area sorted of? ey Tore$T Tires, Brush FiRes ANO <era3s Fires .... ^-—_> & U 4 MlllEDEE\l (axLEcJm of oj.r.m<Fadd£^ oemz.) @1931 BY NEA SERVICE. INC. 8 II DAILY HEALTH SERVICE Diagnosing Heart Disease MURMUR NOT ALWAYS SIGN OF SERIOUS TROUBLE—DOCTORS NOW LAY MUCH STRESS ON RHYTHM AND FORCE OF HEART BEAT hi uk. .noKitis i i.sniii.i.N, Editor, Journal of the American ! Medical Association, and of Hygeia, the Health Magazine. In making a diagnosis of heart disease the modern physician j depends, as did the physicians of j the past, first of all upon the his tory of the patient. He asks In numerable questions as to the conduct of lifp, sensation of op pression or pain, shortness of , breath, fatigue, and the other symptoms that have been men tioned. Then he carefully maps out the size and position of the physical examination called per cussion and auscultation. He lo cates the position of the heart beat and the position of each of the borders of the heart. Then he uses the X-ray to confirm his observations made by physical studies. Much importance has been at tached in the past to the hearing of murmurs of one type or an other. Though these are still con sidered significant, it now is re alized that murmurs may be pres ent without serious disturbances of the heart. On the other hand, a murmur may be of the greatest significance when all the other ob servations confirm the Interpreta tion that they may be based on the murmur. The modern physi cian is likely to attach much im portance to the rhythm of the heart beat, to its force, and tc the things that can be seen in the electrocardiograph tracing. The treatment of the beginning of weakness of the heart after 50 years of age involves special em phasis on all of the good rules of hygiene. It is, of course, under stood that any infections any where about the body will be found and removed. If there is the slightest indication of some beginning break-down of the heart, the patient is put immedi ately at absolute rest. And that means he must be flat on his back in bed for at least four weeks during which time he does not even get up to attend to his ordinary physical necessities, but is given help by members of the family or by a nurse. Tobacco is usually forbidden, but in case a patient has too much nervous irri tability, it is permitted only with the greatest of moderation. Sez Hugh: TT77-T71 /’^'OMCTIMES ITS FINE TO MISS YOUR • WCAUING-IPVOUHAV& ONE E# coming and dont get it? KT.P.TWrr."„... I' u»i-1—j*«a Need of Better Insurance Laws. vrom the Spencer News-Herald. Insurance Ls a great institution. When the fire swept the business district of Spencer on that fateful Saturday of June 27, 1931, the first question that arose in every per son’s mind was: What about the in surance? Did he have enough to cover his loss? And later: Did he let it? These questions which now have found their answers in the progress that has been made to res ore the city were questions that were as natural as they were spontaneous. Did he have insurance and did he have enough? In this connection it seems to the News-Herald that the laws of Iowa as regards insurance should be strengthened somewhat. Iowa al ready has some very good in surance laws, but there are states in which the laws are better. For one thing we think the responsibility for the amount written should be borne by the insurance company and not by the person insured. It Is common practice now when an Insurance agent solicits a policy to ask the customer how much in surance he wants. As a rule the amount set Ls the amount fixed by the man getting the insurance. If he gets too little he suffers loss in :ase of fire. If he gets too much he The Age of Miracles. From the Omaha World-Herald. Do you ever stop to think of what has happened during the last half century? The perfected telephone, the electric railway, the incande scent lamp, the interior combustion engine, the typesetting machine, photoengraving, airplanes, prohibi tion, the harnessing of electricity. Only a few years ago It was de clared that man would never learn to fly. It seems only yesterday that the idea of conveying sound across limitless miles by ether waves was hooted at. Old-time printers easily remember when thev assw-nwi that he is over-insured and the company cuts him down. In our opinion ac ceptance by the company for any amount should be the amount they have to pay in case of loss. It is easy enough to have an ap praisal made on a building at the time the policy is written, and it Is easy enough to have an annual ap praisal made thereafter, and this i appraisal should stand if the i building should be destroyed. There should be no quibbling, no demand for blue prints or measurements or proof of loss except the fact of loss Itself which would be evident to the adjuster the minute he saw the ground. All would be of record be fore the loss. On mercantile stocks the inven tory will show the value, and monthly reports thereafter will keep the inventory up to date. This pro j sedure is advocated and pretty gen I erally adopted at present, but it ought to be required by law. In other words, there ought nev | er be any question about the insur ance a man carries on his property. If he buys a policy and pavs a pre ! mium on it he ought to have the full amount of his policy in case ol total loss. THAT BLACK ACCENT. Black is the accent, we are told In pottery today, For bowl or vase for shelf or wall. To hold the bright boquet. One such a bowl: its curving sicies. Of softest, ebon suede. Are wreathed with sprawling pop pies curved, And dusky leaves o’erlaid. I In this nasturatiums glow and burn. Or flaming salvia spires. All rutsvri o’er with baby’sbreath, To quench the flaming fires. Soon now will Chinese lanterns flame, A.nd bitter-sweet will spray Frcrn tree top high, or lowly bush. Along a sheltered way. Go gather some for your black bowl, E’er frost elves pay their call, And you in fitting case will hold, The jewels of the fall. —Sam Page. Covering a ground area of 57C by 3C0 feet, a windowless factory will be erected in a Massachueth city, elaborate lighting and venti lating systems being provided. when somebody invented a machine that could think it would De possible to invent a machine that would set type. Who would have thought, a half century ago, that men would ever circle the globe in less than 10 days, fly the Atlantic or con verse across the oceans? Why. even up to a comparative ly few months ago. who would have thought that the ’’best minds” of this republic would permit wheat to sell at less than 30 cents a bushel with the all-powerful tariff on that cereal 40 cents a bushel? Surely the age of miraclea, Isn’t it? And still aoinar strong I WADSWORTH CAMP All of Barbara’s other trust vorthy memories until she was twenty years old swirled around a bewildering differ ent home, a small frame house in a remote and backward village of^central New Jersey. Even as late as that she had no idea how she had got to Elmford. Her life before the destructive sound like a clap ping of hands survived so faintly in her brain that she gave it at first the immaterial ity of a troubling dream, ac cepting the village as the only reality she had ever experi enced. Save for the moments cf grief and confusion in New York she couldn’t remember a night when she hadn’t slept in her cramped room overlook ing the straight white pines of the Quaker cemetery and the ancient Georgian meeting house beyond. Except for her mother as a white-and-gold vision, she couldn’t recall any other feminine guardian than her Aunt Barbara Gardner, ! who was tall, bony, and ad dicted to plain, rusty clothing. Aside from the most evanes cent recollection of her father, she coudn’t remember any male relative other than Aunt Barbara’s rotund, twinkling, self-indulgent husband, Wal ter Gardner, proprietor of the Elmford general store. “Where is Harley? Why doesn’t Mummy come? Was Daddy hurt?” Naturally at first the child ; asked gaping questions. Uncle Walter’s replies never varied. “What you don’t know, Bob bie,” he would say with a pro digious, troubled wink, “can’t ao you any manner oi narm. But Mrs. Gardner always re- 1 sponded to such curiosity with one of three disciplines: stand ing Barbara in the corner with her face to the wall for fifteen minutes, sending her to bed supperless, or else striking her sharply over the knuckles with a pair of scissors, a ruler, any hard object that chanced be be convenient; and during these moments the harassed woman’s hidden emotion peered through her tensity. “That’ll teach you not to worry about what’s none of your business.” But is was Barbara’s busi ness; hers more than any other’s, yet she was punished into never mentioning it to the only people who, as far as she knew, could possibly in form her. So she made it more and more her business to trace the elements of the draught of tragedy which her growing logic slowly distilled from the sound like a clapping of hands, and its sequel. Had the snap of a pistol proclaimed her father’s death? If so, whose hand had pressed the trigger? Conceivably his own? What had become of her mother? During the long night watches of her mysteriously transformed life she resolved with a type of desperation to ; make that business of hers the paramount factor of her life until she could drag the an swer to every such question from behind the staring screen of silence incomprehensibly raised by her uncle and aunt. Yet Barbara was twenty be fore circumstances, by putting her back against the wall, I forced her definitely into action. All the years before ap peared to her then to have been a peaceful but remorse less preparation for this period of drama, risk, and unwanted passion. Its commencement she could trace to a mid-September light when Uncle Walter brought in stirring news. His first occupation on returning home each evening was to recite all the facts and rumors that had fluttered across his counters during the day, and his ruddy face beamed or brooded according to the na ture of his narrative. On that occasion he was alight. “The Manvels are opening their house at last, for the whole autumn.” It galvanized Barbara, for the huge, unoccupied place at the edge of the village was the one object in all Elmford that seemed compatible with her blurred memories of a nurse, maids, liveried men, and such gay decorations as white and blue herons winging against a saffron background. Mrs. Gardner, however, was dis trustful. “The Manvels would never bury themselves here that long.” Uncle Walter during these evening passages had a habit of grinning at Barbara, then with a slow wink of building his grimace into an expression grotesque and sinister. “You don’t know much. Their boy’s in his senior year at Princeton. That’s their reason, to be near him.” And on the following Sun day evening Harvey Masters, her uncle’s clerk, drifted in, urging her to exploration. “Let’s see what’s really going on down at the Manvel place. Barbara had known and liked Harvey since her earliest schooldays, but recently she had grown wary, even a little afraid, of sharing solitude with him. Her curiosity, neverthe less, made her nod doubtfully. From the road one couldn’t see the Manvel house because of the distance and the heavy shrubbery, From tne pona in the hollow along which Bar bara and Harvey strolled, how ever, it loomed across a ter raced field and formal garden, white-pillared, dignified, yet, until tonight, a little sad in its desertion which no amount of impersonal care could conceal. Now as they swung into the woods on the path above the pond the hook-back shutters and open windows smiled a glad authentication. In Elmford the Manvels had taken on the quality of their place, a blend of richness and mystery. Although she had never really seen them, Bar bara knew as much about their history as anyone in the vil lage, which wasn’t a great deal. A Manvel had been among the early settlers two centuries before, and was reputed to have constructed the heart of the present mansion. Duiing the Revolutionary War the family had moved to Phila delphia, and, according to scandal which still survived, had grown rich in the traffic of army supplies; but they had come back for the summers, improving and enlarging the Elmford estate generation after generation until season able habits switched them to livelier and more fashionable spots. The present Jacob Man vel had married a New York woman, and lived chiefly in the city and on Long Island. His timetable had grown crowded for Elmford except for a day or two occasionally to inspect buildings, garden, and forest, and to satisfy his rather humble pride in what had come down to him as a trust from so many affection ate hands. From the woods Barbara and Harvey saw strange figures moving about the house. “Servants already!" (TO BE CONTINUED) MAINE RESIDENTS AGED Augusta, Me.,—(UP)—The num ber of Maine residents above the age of 75 is approximately twice that, proportionately, of the nation as a whole. Figures made public by Dr. William Leland Holt of the State Health Department show that near ly three per cent of Maihe residents have passed the three-quarter cen tury mark, while 30 per cent of the population is above 45. LEOPARD AND PUMA FRIENDLY Milwaukee, Wia.,—cUP)—A leop ard and a puma are living together in perfect harmony in a cage at the wUhi$PtOB Park 7d>o h*r# j>. Edmund Heller, director of the uoo, says that almost any animals will live peaceably with each other It introduced young enough. He\also has three different species of bear* and two gray wolves in one cage. On the Loose. Prom Nebelspalter, Zurich. “Don’t you think it a good idea? We are buying our mayor a chain.’* “I suppose it is all right, but we let ours go obout loose.’’ A four-year-old cow owned bjr J. H Hooks produced 1,411 L/oundf of milk In a month to lead *11 sow' in Q*ptvia