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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (June 1, 1933)
MURDER Bv An 1 Mis"°" 1 ARISTOCRAT _ Eberhart |i JMMWVWV\^A<VV»A^^V^V^MWWW» ^MMWWWWVWVWWO^MM^AA^M^M^# Tm all right,” said Florrie tather weakly. "Miss Evelyn told me all about what hap Ged. I don’t suppose any y meant to give me the wrong stuff.” She glanced at me rather doubtfully but con tinued: "Miss Evelyn said I •wed my life to the nurse. I ■oppose I do. But I ought to Bare known not to take the pills. A red-haired woman and the moon at its full and some thing out of a-” Adeia thought she was still •niy half-conscious. She bent •rcr the bed. ' “There now, Florrie. Try to gel some rest and natural deep. Dr. Bouligny says you are going to be all right. Isn’t it fine that Miss Keate was here and knew just what to do lor you?” florrie looked at me again; It was a curious look in which suspicion and gratitude were •ddiy blended. “Oh, yes," she said. "But I •light to have known better •han to take them. But I guess she didn’t mean to do U” “Why, of course she didn’t mean to do it. It was a very terrible accident, but you are going to be all right now. Miss Keate will stay here and take •are of you and-” “I think I’d be better off alone, ma’am, if you don’t mind.” “Alone! Oh, no, Florrie, Dr. Bouligny says It’s best for Miss Keate to stay with you, and I think she’s very kind to do It.” “Yes,” muttered Florrie. •But there’s a full moon to night.” Adeia looked perplexed. “Florrie, you aren’t your self yet. But don’t worry: You’ll be all right if you do Just as the doctor says. Will you be comfortable, Miss Keate? Is there anything you need? I can’t tell you how grateful we are to you. If»you hadn’t, been here last night -** Her face was hard all at once, touched with granite. She wont on: “Don't hesitate to ask Emmeline to help you or get anything you v!ant. Good night.” Her silk skirts swished deli cately on the stairs. Florrie alghed. “I don't think you really meant to give me those tab lets. Miss Keate," she said forgivingly. “You’ve been aw ful good to me today. I guess you didn’t mean to. Miss Evelyn said I’d have died sure If you hadn’t known what to do for me.” I could see no good purpose In telling Florrie anything of the mystery of the veronal tablets. I said: “That’s good. Now I’ll just fluff up your pillows, and you try to sleep.” “Say, Miss Keate, did they have the funeral today?” “Yes.” • “Was it a big one?" 1 don’t know; there were lots of flowers.” “There would be. Likely the whole town was here. Say, Miss Keate, have they caught the burglar yet?” “No.” ’ She brooded on that for some time. Then she said with a slow sort of smile: “They won’t catch him, cither. Those diamonds—” she laughed outright—“those dia monds. Say. Miss Keate, no body stole those diamonds. I know exactly where they are.” . v CHAPTER XII After a moment I realized that I had known it all along; had known there was some thing faulty, something too pat. about the missing dia monds; had known there was something conspiratorial about that supposed theft of which so much had been made But with my own eyes I had seen Adela open that safe and discover the loss of the jewels. Who, then, had ar I ranged their disappearance at so apt a moment? “Where? How do you know? Why didn’t you tell?” It was difficult to persuade Florrie to talk. “The only way to be safe in this house is to mind your own business,” she said. It was only when I com bined a delicate threat to tell Miss Thatcher with a sort of provisional promise to keep what she had told me a se cret unless I found it abso lutely necessary to tell it that she resumed her communica tive mood. The diamonds, she said, were in the tall Jar of green bath salts in the bathroom adjoining Janice’s bedroom. She had seen them there the morning following Bayard’s murder. She had been clean ing the room rather hurried ly, and had picked up the Jar to wipe the shelf under it and s had caught the glimmer of one of the Jewels which had somehow slipped through the concealing layers of crystals and next the glass. She had explored then and there, and while she didn’t remember exactly the entire collection of diamonds, she thought they were all there. Or most of them. “It was a good place to hide them,” she said rumln atlvely. “The bath salts are sort of shiny; it was Just the light catching one of the dia monds that made me look, j But I didn’t say anything to anybody. I wanted to keep out of it. And I knew they were safe there because Miss Janice hates bath salts and never uses them. She says she just keeps the Jar there for the color scheme. Did you ever see her bathroom. Miss Keate? She’s got water lilies | painted all around the walls. | And little green frogs. Hea thenish, I say.” "Are they still there? “Oh, sure. They’re painted.” “The diamonds, I mean.” She looked evasive. “The last time I looked they were,” she said. “Say, Nurse, do you suppose Miss Janice managed so I got those tab lets—veronal? is that what you call them? “I don’t know how it hap pened, Florrie. Why did you think she might have—man aged it?” “She don’t like me,” said Florrie, still evasive. “She threatened me Just yester day.” “Threatened you!” “Well, she said I’d regret something I did. And I got those tablets right afterward and nearly died.” I suppressed a smile at the thought of the salutary ef fect of Janice’s rebuke. What ever Florrie’s conclusion re garding the veronal tablets came to be, I thought it high ly unlikely she would ever do j any more prowling among Janice’s things. Then anoth er thought struck me: “Florrie, think now and an swer carefully. Did you leave that box of tablets anywhere in the house before you took them? Did you put it down on a table? Or anywhere? Was the box out of your posses sion even for a moment?” “No,” said Florrie at once. “I'm sure of that, Miss Keate. I took the box from you and came straight up here to my room and took the first two tablets before I even un dressed. Then my head was no better, so I kept on taking them.” “How many did you take altogether?” I asked, and when she told me I shud dered. “But didn’t you see they were not aspirin? They are much larger, for one thing.” “Why, no,” she said. “Com ing from a hospital, I expected i them to be a little different from regular aspirin. Hospi tals are such queer places. Do you know what people are saying about who killed Bay ard?" “No. You’d better go to sleep, Florrie.” “I don’t know either. But they’ll say Hilary killed him. You see if I’m not right. Hil ary and Bayard never liked each other.” “Florrie, do you know any thing about a Nita Thatcher? Have you ever heard any of the family mention Nita’s grave?” “No," she said after a thoughtful momept. “There’s a grave up at tse Thatcher cemetery marked Nita That cher, but I never heard any thing about it. The Thatch ers are funny about that cemetery,” she went on, pon dering. “Dave is always going up there. And Miss Adela. And even Bayard used to go up there once in awhile.” “Was she—Nita—any con nection to Bayard?” Florrie wrinkled her color less eyebrows. “I don’t know, Miss Keate, but I don’t think so. I never heard anything at all about her. And if there’d been any thing,” added Florrie not at all enigmatically, “I’d have known it.” I very nearly said, “You and everybody in C-.” For three whole days I nursed Florrie. They were to all outward aspects quiet days, chiefly characterized by a determined and outwardly successful effort on the part of the Thatchers to ignore the matter of Bayard’s dread ful death and to present an unruffled countenance to the world. The only visible evi dences that things were not as they appeared lay in the fact that Hilary and Evelyn stayed on, instead of return ing to their own household, and that instead of getting a new housemaid during Flor ae's illness, Janice and Evelyn between them took over her duties. This was, I had no doubt, to prevent letting a girl from town into the house and its intimate workings, a girl who would talk, would relate every scrap of gossip she could garner to all too willing ears. I knew that, so far, they had managed to keep Florrle’s illness a secret, al though once Adela went to see Florrie’s mother, and I suppose she told her of it. I never knew what measures she took to insure the wom an’s silence. Almost frantically tney re sumed that orderly daily rou tine and clung to it as a man may cling to a straw to save himself from drowning. Dur ing those days I saw them to gether mostly at meals when they were bland, gracious, preoccupied with the house keeping and gardens and af fairs of the town. At the same time I could hardly help knowing in a general way what went on in the house. Once I ventured into Bay ard’s room and found it prim and orderly with drawn shades and Bayard’s posses sions—for I looked to make sure—removed and I suppose packed away. I wondered fleetingly what had become of the gin. Bayard was never men tioned. fevery so often Strove would come to the house and talk apologetically of the dia monds and the burglar, and I wonder anew just where my duty lay concerning those diamonds—and more urgent ly concerning my accumulat ing evidence that Bayard Thatcher had been murdered not by a marauding burglar but by one of his own family. If the county authorities chose to ignore it, as they did, to whom ought I to ap peal? Or ought I to appeal at all? I think I had some faint notion that if any stranger actually was made a victim of, and the thing came to his arrest, I should step forward with what I knew. But in my heart I felt, I am sure, that it would not. come to that. That things would somehow work out. For a feeling of some thing impending was every where: In the air we breathed and the food we ate and in our eyes meeting and glanc ing quickly away. A climax was coming. We all knew it. It was in Janice’s set white face as she went about the cool, polished spaces of the house doing Florrie’s dusting, or working in her garden and later ap pearing fresh and beautiful at the dinner table, ready to take her role in that tragi comedy of manners that went on every night—avoiding me and avoiding Allen, her dark eyes somber above quiet lips. It was in Adela’s bleak eyes and her blunt white fingers as they worked ceaselessly with her long turquoise beads or with the flat silver beside her plate, and in her bland observations which saved* us so frequently from a conver sational trap and which yet were apt to break off in the middle as if she’d completely forgotten what she had been saying. Even Emmeline grew ner vous; she twisted her fingers constantly and took to hav ing neuralgia and wafting a smell of vehement winter green salve which did not add to our combined peace of mind. Allen Carick looked taut and spent, as if he’d been sleeping badly. And Evelyn de cided to have the boys kept on at camp for a while after the summer session was over. “It’s as well not to let them come home just now,” she said, and later I heard her sending a carefully worded telegram over the telephone to the head of the school. I grew restless under that prevailing sense of strain and expectation, under the goad ing pressure of my many un answered questions and un proved theories, and—more definitely— that unrelenting chaperonage. Every one of those three days I left the house for a time, and never, after Sunday, alone. Evelyn volunteered once to go for a walk with me, and I could scarcely refuse. Another time Hilary turned up about four with the sedan and took Adela and me for a long and silent country ride—reluct antly, I think, and with a very red neck, wnicn was an I qould see of him from the tonneau. And another time, by leaving from the back door, I got away from the house unobserved, only to meet Allen a quarter of a mile away, rather breathless, as if he’d run across country. He stuck to me like a burr, but was lost in his own not too pleasant thoughts, for he tramped along steadily with his hands in his pockets and his blue eyes frowning at the path, and only spoke twice during the whole walk, which I somewhat unkindly pro longed, taking him through some thickets where there were opening milkweed pods whose soft silks clung stub bornly to his trousers and re sisted his savage efforts to brush-them off. He swore a little under his breath and brushed and brushed with his hands and looked up at me and surprisingly laughed. He was very nice when he laughed: His sullen frown gave place to a sort of bright blue twinkle, and he had a direct and very charming way of smiling exactly into your eyes. “You win, Nurse,” he said, admitting his espionage al most in words. But he stayed with me until he saw me safe and incomunicado, so to speak, inside the door of the Thatcher house. The whole thing was an admission. I suppose, that something was to come. That there must be some change, some development, some cli max of those hidden forces. But I think none of us guessed the dreadful turn that de velopment was to take. My nerves were on edge, and I slept poorly at night. There were times when I sus pected every member of that family of having murdered Bayard. (TO BE CONTINUED! Pine Beetles Killed Many Trees, Experts Say Stissculc. Mont. — »UP> — Pine IfceUes have killed millions of trees Mi Uu* Beaverhead and Bitter Root National forests lately, foreatry « jate report Billions of feet of lodgepcle pine and yellow pine are endangered by ih> inserts, which bote through |Im> bark of the '.rets and thus kill thro) Montana forestry experts were gauslderUie a wide-spicad ram palgn against the beetles, adopt- | ing methods used in Oregon to kill the insects. By cutting down the tree, and subjecting tt to a slight electric current the beetles may be killed raptdly and at a small cost. It was said. — ■- ++. ■!— ... I. , Bicyclist in Knee Pants Ordered Away El Paso Tex. — (UPi — Little lord Fauntleroy pants may be quite chic for gentlemen of Europe, but bare knees exposed I by Eiis Mslpas. 34. Australian cyclist on a world tour, brought an order from a police captain nete to be on his way and not bt seen on the streets. The officer feared for the safety of the youth in the West Texas country that is Just becoming ac customed to men in knickers. Maipas went on his wsy riding his 33-year-old bicycle. — —.—. Barter and Trade Businesa Reached Peak Minden. Nev — <UP>— Barter and trade reached Its peak hers when L. Falette traded a truck load cf onions (or a similar amount of California oranges. Local markets are glutted with onions with slow sale. while oranges are In demand at $1.53 per box. On the other hand Nev ado onions are In demand at Lot Angeles market*. - One After Eating. F^om The Humorist. Tramp- The lady next door gave me a p eer of ome-made cake Won't you give me something, too? Lady (spitefully); Yes. I'd brttef give you a digestive tablet. OF INTEREST TO FARMERS J I EMERGENCY HAY CROPS I Field peas and grain provide a good quality hay in the cooler sec j tions. Care must be exercised to , secure good, viable seed as diffi culty has been experienced with this , recently. The usual planting rate is Hi buhels each of peas and me dium maturing oats. On light soils the Scotch pea may prove out bet ter than the common Canadian. An improved variety of the common yellow pea, known as the Multi plier. is popular on the heavier soils. The mixture can be harvested when the oats are in the milk stage or not later than when the lower, part of the plant shows signs of ripening. Oats, barley, or wheat will make fair yields of good hay when at early blossom or milk stage. Cutting the grain nurse crop for hay not only will supply some roughage that may be quite as valuable as the threshed grain, but it also insures a better stand of alfalfa or clover. In addition, a fair crop of ligume hay may De secured in favorable seasons. Ten to 15 lbs. of scarified sweet clover may be seeded alone in early spring and a fair hay crop secured in late sum mer. Also medium red clover or a mixture of 6 lbs. timothy, 4 lbs, medium red clover and 2 lbs. alsike may be seeded in lige manner, hen sown without a nurse crop and in a favorable season, a ton or more of legume hay will be secured in late summer, with a field that should go through the winter In good shape. Some farmers use a nurse crop, cut it for hay, r J state they also have a good crop of the legume hay the same year. Winter vetch, also known as sand and hairy vetch, is best when seeded with grain as it has a recliningg habit and it cannot be relied upon to give a sure crop in the cooler cli mates. Combinations of lti to 2 bushels of oats or of H4 bushels of wheat or rye with 25 to 30 lbs. of vetch are suggested. Fall rye and vetch, seeded not later than late August or early September, is advised as a light soil crop. Timo thy meadows and thin alfalfa or clover will produce better yields if given a top-dressing of manure dur ing the winter or early spring. Ni trate fertilizer is now comparatively low in cost and its use will not only Increase the tonnage of timothy, but will also add materially to its protein content. Some even contend that it is possible to secure protein from nitrogen fertilized timothy quite as cheaply as from clover and alfalfa. For instance, a trial in a certain locality was recently conducted in which 250 lbs. of ni trogen fertilizer were applied per acre to a portion of a timothey field. The hay from the treated portion of the field contained 194 I lbs. more protein per acre than the I hay from the untreated portion After harvesting the first crop of hay, the field may be plowed and planted to sudan, millet, or corn for additional roughage. Cowpeas are an important emergency hay in the South. They should be seeded much the same as soybeans. If sown alone on clean land it may be broadcast at the rate of one to two bushels per acre. If sown in 3-foot drills, 20 lbs. of seed will be sufficient. Seed ing should be delayed until ground is warm, say a week or two after corn planting. They are normally cut for hay when the first pods ripen and because of the succulent stems care must be exercised in curing. They may be handled in small cocks much as are soybeans, or large cocks with a sort of tri pod shock supporter may be used to hasten drying. Sudan gras is best adapted to grazing, but will make a good yield of palatable hay if cut early before the heads get too mature. It is relatively low in pro tein and therefore is properly to be considered as a secondary choice to some earlier planted legume. In favorable seasons It will yield a fair crop of hay if planted in June after taking off an early hay or pea crop. In any event, it should not be seeded until one or two weeks after corn planting time as it is very sensitive to cool soils and cool weather. Two cuttings a year are secured in favorabble seasons. Sudan should be seeded at the rate of 25 to 35 lbs. per acre as the seed is often of not too good germination. The seed bed should be well pre pared. with lumps broken up and the soil well compacted. If soil and weather are good, the seed may be broadcast and harrowed in. Other wise. drill in from one-half to one inch deep to insure a catch if the soil surface is dry. Corn planted as late as July will provide good fodder if properly handled, al though June planting would be preferable. It should be sown in drills 42 inches apart, using 25 to 33 lbs. seed per acre. It makes little difference what variety of corn is used so long as the stalks are only two to three feet apart In the row. I Th:« gives a leafy forage with few ears that gives excellent satisfac tion in feeding. After planting, the land can be harrowed once or twice and will need little cultivation after it gets two feet high. It should be cut when the small ears on the outer rows begin to glaze and the lower leaves begin to turn yel low and dry. Bind Into fair sized QUALITY. NOT QUANTITY An efficient dairy ration must not only be ample in amount, but must also contain sufficient protein to balance the carbohydrates and fat. bocauae production is lifted to the amount of milk provided for by the protein, no matter how plen tiful the CArbohydratea may be. These nutrient requlrefents have been determined by (any well known feeding triala and experiments a dairy cow capable of high produc tion could eat all the grass, hay. and corn silage she could hold. wKh a liberal amount of ground corn. ba*}gy. and oats, and still not M bundle and put in fair sized shocks bound tightly at the top. The one disadvantage is that it is not practical to stack it or store it in the barn because it contains so much moisture. In feeding value this corn fodder is nearly equal to timothy hay, but because of its suc culence it is better adapted to dairy cows. It provides a leafy forage that a learned professor years ago dem onstrated had quite as high or higher feeding value per acre as corn grown in the usual manner. The nutrients usually deposited in the ear are largely retained in the stalk. It is a satisfactory and pala table feed for cows, horses, cattle, and sheep. THE CORN CROP There are three important fac tors to consider in connection with the planting of corn. First, the prep ration of the seed-bed; second, selection of the seed ears and test ing them for germination, and, third the adjustment of the planter to insure its dropping the right num ber of kernels to the hill. It is just as important to look after these de tails this year as it was when com was bringing a higher price. It is true that we ought to grow less corn in 1933 than we did last year. How ever, this should not be accom plished by planting the usual acre age in a half-hearted sort of way, but rather by growingg fewer acres under the mo3t favorable condi tions possible. It is much more sen sible to exert every effort to ob tain a maximum yield on a smaller acreage than to plant seed of un known germination on a poorly prepared seed-bed, in the hope of not getting a full crop. Let us put forth the usual effort to get a high yield, but so far as possible let us substitute a legume crop on a por tion of the acreage planted to corn in former years. A well prepared seed-bed is the first essential to ft good yield of any crop, and com is no exception to this gerenal rule. Fall plowed land should be disked as early as the ground can be worked. This tends to warm up the soil and to encourage the rapid sprouting of weed seeds. The aim should then be to kill as many weed as possible before planting, by means of disking and harrowing. When the greund is to be plowed in the spring, it is good practice to disk before plowingg, to aid in the conservation of soil moisture. After plowing, a well tilled seed-bed should be prepared with disk and harrow. Assuming that the seed ears were carefully selected in the field in the mall, and were well dried be * fore frost came, a test for germin ation is all that need be given in the spring. Light ears and ears with discolored butts should be discarded. The ragdoll method is commonly used for germination tests. Taka from six to eight kernels from each ear and place them on a muslin cloth, laid on top of a piece of butcher’s paper. Mark the cloth off into spaces and number the latter corresponding to the ears to be tested. A cloth 12 inches wide by 52 inches long will provide spaca enough for eight kernels from each ‘ of 30 ears. When kernels from 30 ears have been placed on the cloth, roll paper and cloth into a roll, or a ragdoll, as it is called. Place these “dolls” in lukewarm water for about two hours, then drain, and set them on end in a pail lined with burlap. Place the pail in s warm room for seven to ten days, sprinkling the “dolls” from day to day with warm water, so as to keep them moist. When the kernels have sprouted and the sprouts are from two to four inches long, unroll the “doll” and note the character of the sprouts from each kernel. Dis card all seed ears that show one or two kernels with weak sprouts. Kernels showing weak sprouts are as unsuitable for seeed as those that do not sprout at all. Rigid selection should be adhered to, be cause kernels that show weak sprouts in the rag-doll test, where ideal conditions for sprouting are maintained, are likely not to ger minate at all out in the field, where less favorable conditions may pre vau. wnen seea corn is imectea with spores of the dry rot fungi, molds will b3 noticed on the sprouts as revealed by the rag-doll test. Thus this test may also be used to eliminate seed ears infected with dry rot fungi. However, a better way to eliminate these diseases con sists in treating the seed with one of the well known mercury dusts. Mix one bushel of corn with two ounces of the fungicide in a barrel churn, revolved slowly so as to in sure covering every kernel with the dust. Average untreated seed corn usually produces from five to eight bushels less corn per acre than treated seed. It is a good plan to make sure that the com planter will steadily drop the same number of kernels per hill, so as to insure an even stand. Don't use an old ‘ planter that can not be depended upon to do a good job in the field. Uneven planting may cause a con siderable reduction in yield, and should not be tolerated. PROVED TOO LATE Too many good dairy bulls go to the butcher; too many poor ones stay on farms. able to utilize her full capacity to turn feed into milk, because she would not have enough protein to balance the carbohydrates in her ration. Therefore, no matter how liberal the quantity of her feed or how rich it is In carbohydrates and I fat. if it is lacking In this essen | ttal factor, protein, bar production and profit are limited Just as sure i ly as if the rest of the feed were I cut off down to the level of tba low protein. ... ■ I— M — - HAVE (TOOD EQUIPMENT I Efficient farm Layouts mean tnora I labor Income.