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