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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (April 25, 1935)
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TEAMS drove from the Hoot Owl
toward town through the falling
snow that evening. First went Ben
Elliott, alone and sending his driv
ers at a spanking trot, wondering
and at odds with himself.
Why was Dawn so obdurate In
this matter of having him see her?
Why that odd repression, as though
she struggled to keep from saying
the things that were bursting her
His Inability to answer those
questions drove him into a dogged
mood. He felt like blaming Bran
don for this, as well as other
A half hour behind him came a
team from camp, driven by Bird
Eye Blaine. A figure ahead stepped
out of the ruts and awaited his
“Town?" the man cried.
-Tup. . . . Hello, Martin; Whoa
• • •
Blaine lifted the heavy robes for
the bookkeeper and then clucked
his team on.
“Mistber Elliott gone in?” he
asked. 'He has, eh? . . . ’Nd
MistheT Ited Bnrt Delaney still per
secutin’ th’ country with his pres
tnce likely. Ah, th’ b'y, th’ b’y!"
Ben turned his tenm Into an al
ley, hitched nnd blanketed them,
and then made his way between
buildings to the town’s principal
thoroughfare, which was lighted by
glaring store fronts. He purchased
some articles in a clothing store
and did not see Dawn McManus
onter, observe him, and then with
draw’. When he went out again he
did not notice that the girl followed
From place to place he went,
Dawn behind him in the flying snow
and when she had been following
so for half an hour, her eyes alert
for others who might be watching
Elliott, another fell into the train
ahead of her. She saw this man
6tep from a store entrance and fol
low Ben. She hastened to be close
and not until she was abreast of
him did she recognize John Martin,
whom she had seen but once before.
He did not turn his head and she
dropped back. She had no doubts
of his loynlty, from what Ben had
told her of his bookkeeper.
For the better part of an hour
this double stalking continued while
the snow fell thicker and then El
liott turned into a side street and
made the next turn into the alley
where he had left his team.
Two figures followed him, hasten
ing a bit as he disappeared Into
the gloom. Martin followed Ben. as
Dawn trniled both.
And then, as Elliott drew close
and spoke gruffly to his horses, an
other shadowy figure appeared: it
was only a blur In the shadows,
crouched and stealthy. The figure
swept forward; an arm drew back
and upward; it struck and with a
muffled grunt Ben Elliott turned,
falling sideways and backward un
der the impact of a blow.
Another voice lifted then In a
sharp cry as John Martin ran for
ward and the Indistinct figure
which was poised over Elliott, about
to strike again, turned, hesitated,
whirled and fled.
“What is it, son?" Martin cried
as he dropped to his knees beside
Ben. Before a reply could come
Dawn was there, moaning his name
over and over.
“Knife!” Ben gasped. "In the
neck , . . here ...”
John Martin unbuttoned Elliott’s
thick Jacket, ripped open the shirt
and his fingers encountered a warm
sticky gush as he thrust them
across the back.
“Knifed you! . . . Ah, son!”
Dawn peered close into the bearded
man’s face as though fearful of
what he might say next.
“We’ve got to get him somewhere
right away,” Martin muttered. “Got
to. . . . It’s bad.”
“My house is Just around the cor
ner!” she cried. "Bring him there
... Oh, hurry!”
^ Together they lifted Ben to his
feet. Ilis teeth ground shut to keep
back the moans. He was sick and
weak with pain. He sagged against
Martin as the man supported him,
"Tough, Dawn ... to get you
mixed up ... In a mess. . . .”
“Hurry!” she said. “He’s so
He was weak, indeed. With their
arms about his body for support,
they moved through the snow. El
k liott felt Dawn close to him and
' closed his eyes almost happily. He
struggled to help himself so he
would not burden her, but he
stumbled and nearly fell and an
other gush of blood bathed his
body. After ages of effort and pnin
a glare seemed to be all about,
warm breath fanned his face . . .
and Aunt Em, standing in the door
way, was saying sharply:
"In here. . . . Your room. Dawn.
. . . I’ll phone the doctor.”
Emory Sweet worked rapidly,
onee there. "Deep!" he muttered.
“Dad. what a blow. Missed the
jugular by a hair.”
The wound was only a slender slit
In the sklu. but the blade had been
driven deep, indeed, and the blood
that flowed from it had drawn the
bronze from Elliott's face, the
strength from the splendid muscles
that lay relaxed now beneath clear
"Now!” said the physician when
Ben finally lay back on Dawn's pil
low. breathing shallowly, eyes
closed. ”1 guess he'll be all right
In a few days. . . . Rut what an
escape!” He shrugged.
Sweet looked at John Martin,
then. The doctor’s brows drew a
hit; he seemed to lean forward and
blinked slowly, incredulously. Then
Martin moved and the other re
laxed. Still, his expression was one
of startled speculation.
The doctor began gathering his
Instruments. Martin stood staring
at Ben in deep thought. Then his
right hand went to the lobe of his
left ear and tugged slowly in that
characteristic gesture. He did not
observe Emma Coburn standing in
the doorway. He did not look at
her until the woman gasped. It
was a light, light gasp; so light that
Emory Sweet did not hear. But
Martin heard and turned and stood
as though frozen In the posture.
Aunt Em’s head was held rigidly
back, one hand pressed against a
Quickly, Martin’s finger went
against his Ups in a sealing gesture.
He held so an instant and then
slowly shook his head, a movement
of unmistakable warning.
Dawn entered the hallway from
the living room and these two re
laxed from the rigidity of their
“Now, the boy’s going to be all
right,” the doctor said. “I’ll look
in tomorrow. Quiet is going to be
essential for a few days. You two
women all right?”
A close observer might have no
ticed that Aunt Em’s eyes were odd
ly averted from John Martin’s
searching gaze and that her breath
ing was quick.
“Why, it might be handy to have
a man in the house tonight,” she
said, evenly enough. “I’m . . .
I'm wondering if Mr. Martin would
stay. He could sleep on the couch
in the living room.”
“I’d be glad to,” the man said
and cleared his throat sharply.
“There might be something I could
do . . . for you.”
He had looked at Dawn on this
last ar.d it seemed that his voice
caught ever so slightly.
So It was arranged that he should
stay through the night and the doc
Aunt Em carried the light out of
the sickroom and placed it on a
table in the hall. She bustled here
and there, occupied with a variety
of minor errands and finally drove
Dawm to bed despite the girl’s pro
tests of sleeplessness.
Alone, she fixed blankets on the
living room couch while Martin sat
in the darkened bedroom. That
done, she beckoned to him from the
They confronted one another
there a long moment. The woman’s
face worked queerly and she seemed
at a loss for words.
“What shall I say?” she asked, in
“Nothing,” the man replied.
“There is nothing at all to be said
... is there?"
“Oh, you gave me a start!”
“You’re the first one. . . . I’m
. . . I'm too full of things to talk,
He made an odd gesture toward
the wall and looked about.
“We’re in the upstairs front room
If we’re needed.” she said. “Is . . .
there anything yon need yourself?”
He did not reply for a moment.
“Yes. . . . Your help, likely. . . .
A little later. . . ."
The woman did a strange thing,
then. She snatched up her apron
and pressed It tightly against her
“She didn't remember!” she
sobbed. . . . "Oh. what’ll happpn
in this house next?”
“I wonder," Martin muttered. “Yes
, . I wonder!”
She left him, and he moved almost
hesitatingly Into the living room. He
stood a long time Just within the
threshold and then went slowly
about, from picture to table, from
book shelf to mantel, hands In his
coat pockets. IWfore this old photo
graph he stood for a long Interval;
beside that worn rocker he re
mained with bowed head, as one
might who Is coffering . . or wor
shlplng. When he approached the
couch where he was to sleep that
night his legs seemed to fall and
he half fell, half slumped to his
knees. He let his face down to the
blankets and his fingers clutched
them, gripping, gripping until the
kuuckles showed white. . . . And
a great, shuddering moan slipped
from his deep chest
Grimly, Bird-Eye Blaine prowled
Tincup that night. He had let John
Martin out as he drove through the
main street; then proceeded to a
livery barn where he stabled his
On the way he had sighted Ben
Elliott but later, although he took
up a position before the post office
and watched passers on either side
of the street carefully, he did not
see him. He began making In
quiries and found that Elliott had
been about town but evidently
Blaine was always some little time
Falling thus, he went to locate
Ben’s team and stood in the swirl
ing snow waiting. Stores closed.
Bird-Eye chewed and stamped to
keep warm and watched nnd lis
tened. And after a long hour's vigil
proved fruitless he moved aimlessly
away, along down the alley.
At the rear of Joe Plette’s hotel
lie watched movement through a
lighted window which gave into a
hack entry. A man was there, clos
ing an inside stairway door behind
him. He turned and buttoned his
mackinaw witli hasty movements
nnd Blaine drew hack into the shad
ows. The man within was Bed
Bart Delaney. . . . The door
opened; the man stepped out. He
crossed between Bird Eye nnd the
lights, carrying snow-shoes. Blaine
followed as the other went swiftly
down the alley and then struck out
past the depot toward the tracks.
“Well, now!" Bird-Eye muttered
to himself. ‘‘Saints . . . Why nil
this rush. Pm wonderin'!”
A chill which had nothing to do
with the temperature of the night
struck through him. Bed Bart, flee
ing town? Surely, he went ns a
frightened man might go. ... Or
as one whose errand is completed.
Out into the street, then, went the
Irishman, nnd Into the pool room.
"Has anybody here seen Misther
Elliott?* he asked loudly nnd men
looked up from their games at the
“Knife!” Ben Gasped.
query. Yes, this man had, two
hours ago; the butcher had talked
to him at about eight. . . . None
other. To the dance hall, next, and
his queries were repeated. Then
hastily back to see Ben’s team still
standing patiently in the deepening
snow, past Dawn McManus’ house
to find only a faint light In the hall
way, and from there to Able Armi
tage’s on a run.
Had the Judge seen Ben Elliott?
He had not; and excitedly Blaine
explained his empty search, the
hasty departure of lted Bart, the
Able dressed and they went out
together, searching the town, inquir
ing of late passers.
“Somethin’s happened!’’ Bird-Eye
declared. “Somethin’s went wrong
with th’ b’y. Able! We can’t folnd
out what nt Is ontil mornin’. Thin,
believe me, we’ll have help
“Lave ut to me. Able!”
Through the night, ten minutes
later, a team went swiftly west
ward. They left town at a gallop;
they breasted high drifts ncross the
way In frantic plunges, came to a
blowing stop at the Hoot Owl barn.
A moment later Tim Jeffers sat up
and In sleeplv bewilderment fought
off the man who shook him and de
manded that he wake up and listen.
The storm subsided before sun
rise. It was a vast, rolling country,
and ncross It, from Hoot Owl to
ward TIncup, went teams. Five of
them formed n sort of procession,
drawing logging sleighs. Across the
bunks planks had been placed and
on the planks stood and sat men;
they were silent men, who drew on
cold pipes, whose faces were set
and grim, whose eyes betrayed ex
eltement. The Hoot Owl crew, this
following Tim Jeffers and Bird Eye
Blaine to TIncup to solve n mystery
In an orderly manner they left
the sleighs and stood In groups
while teamsters unhitched and led
their horses into a livery harn.
Able Armitnge came hurrying and
he, alone, was welcome In that
phalanx of Intent men. Others of
the town saw him gesticulate as he
talked with Jeffers and Blaine, saw
him shake his head and spread his
hands as one will who has no an
swer for a pressing question.
Old Tim turned to the crews and
motioned them to him. The men
gathered close and listened while
he spoke briefly. Then the com
pact huddle broke. JefTers emerged
and started for the main street, that
body of shanty boys falling In to
move shoulder to shoulder behind
In was a strange spectacle, for
that peaceful Sunday morning 1
Doors were opened; men and wom
en peered out Then they emerged
and stood to watch. Hastily caps
and coats were donned and along
the sidewalks followed a growing
crowd of the curious.
The breath vapor of the men rose
in a cloud. No one spoke. They
swung Into the main street, old Tim
wallowing In the long drift at the
corner, his men trampling It down
behind him. On down past Abie's
office, past the pool room and then,
without a word or signal they
hnlted. . . . The halt was before
the hnnk over which Nicholas Bran
don had his offices and his living
And then Tiro lifted his clear,
‘‘Brandon 1” he shouted. "Nick
"Come out, Nick!” a teamster
shouted, voice thick with repressed
excitement. "Ay, come out!" an
Movement, then, where they had
expected movement. Up above n
face appeared in a window. Nich
olas Brandon looked down upon
them. They could see his lips com
press ns he discerned that crowd.
"Come down. Brandon!"
Tills was Tim again, his voice
edged with sharpness, as he might
speak to a rebellious man of his
Brandon moved and threw up the
"What do you men want?” he de
manded sharply. In the tone of one
who has been long uncustomed to
"We want Ben Elliott!’ Jeffers
"Elliott? He Isn’t here. What
would he he doing here? What
could J know of him?”
A mumbling, a stirring behind
“We want him. We want you to
help us find him!”
"You’re d—n right!" . . . "Tell
us, you skunk!” . . . “Show him to
us or we’ll wreck your whole blame
Tim held up a silencing hand
against this outbreak. Then he ad
“Elliott came to town Inst night.
He hasn't been seen since, llis team
was found where he left it There’s
only one man in town who’d have
an object In getting him out of the
way. We’ve come to that man: to
you, Brandon. We want Elliott!"
Brandon’s lips writhed.
“I tell you, I know nothing—’* He
slammed down the sash and cut the
rest of his sentence from their hear
ing so those men did not know that
his voice broke sharply as panic
laid its hold on him.
H# turned his back deliberately
to the window. Then, In a frantic
lunge, he reached the telephone and
rang the bell.
“Give me the Jail!" be said ex
citedly. ’’Quick! The jail!”
Outside a growing, mounting roar
sounded, like the voice of an ap
proaching wind. Then came a sharp
shout; a loud curse. Then quick
silence again as Tim Jeffers reas
serted his leadership and demanded
that they move only as a unit. But
this order prevailed for a brief mo
"Smash in the door; It’s locked!"
someone cried, '"rake him until he
gives Ben Op!"
The ball of Ice, case In the street
from some horse’s foot, now picked
up and flung stoutly, crashed
through an oflice window.
Brandon cowered as a yell of ap
proval went up, and pressed his
face close to the telephone.
“Hickens? . . . Art! This Is
Brandon 1 There's a mob out here
“I’ve seen It!” The sheriff’s voice
“I saw ’em come In. I don’t know
“Get down here, then, and be
quick about it! Get down here and
Brandon waited for the ready ac
quiescence which always had come
from the men he hnd made, from
ofiicers of the law and judges and
public officials both high nnd low.
“Are you there?” he demanded
sharply as a shrill yip came from
“Yes, Mr. Brandon. I hear you
but . . . But what d’you expect me
to do against a mob alone? I—’’
“Alone! You’re sheriff, you fool!
You’ve the law behind you 1 Bring
a gun and hurry!”
“But that crowd. Nick! Why,
they’re the best men in the north.
They'd tear me to ribbons! They’re
good men and they’re tnad. You
better get out the hack way If you
With an oath I’.randon flung the
receiver from him ns another win
dow pane exploded to fragments.
Abandoned to that muttering mob.
and by a man whose political ca
reer he had shaped with his own
hands! From a safe vantage point
he looked out. A half dozen men
were pulling at a sign post
He ran down the hallway and
looked out a window In the rear. A
grim guard of three men stood
there, ready and waiting for him
to attempt flight that way.
(TO BB CONTINUED.!
The Road to Health
By DR. R. ALLEN GRIFFITH
THE SIXTH-YEAR MOLAR
THE first permanent teeth to
erupt In the mouth are called the
"sixth-year molars” because they
come In during the sixth year.
They also might be called the
most important teeth in the mouth.
These teeth are of the utmost im
portance, as they present a large
masticating surface, and if perma
nently lost, always cause a collapse
of the dental arch and frequently
cause the face to be contracted. To
the orthodontist (a dentist who
straightens teeth) they are the key
to the arch. By looking at their
occlusion he is able to determine If
the Jaws are in their proper rela
tion to each other.
The premature loss of these teeth
is r calamity to any Individual ami
they should be watched with Jeal
ous care. They come in during the
most Irresponsible period of child
hood. and no child of that age can
be expected to pay any attention to
the care of these Important teeth
without the watchful guidance of
If you care for the preservation
of your child’s health, there is every
reason In the world why the baby
teeth should receive as much care
and attention to the permanent
teeth. There Is no possible excuse,
no reason under the sun why
either the baby teeth or the sixth
year molars should he neglected.
The baby teeth are easily forgotten
by the child where they are so
healthy and clean that they nre
lost in the natural way. If properly
cared for they are lost as nature In
tended. They are not so easily for
gotten by tin* child when they nre
allowed to become a Jagged, broken,
decayed and abscessed lot and are
lost through pain and sleeplessness.
The uncleanllness of the baby
teeth is surely transferred to the
sixth-year molars, and the memory
of pain endured and the physical
scars will he carried through life.
A child whose teeth are allowed
to go to wreck and ruin through Ig
norance or neglect on the pnrt of
parents, who nre responsible for
both his mental and physical wel
fare, has every right to hold them
responsible for his suffering. The
baby teeth should remain as white
and sound ns little pearls. It Is
absolutely criminal for parents to
* m v
HEN nil Is said and done,
health la the greatest asset
that a human being can possess.
There are many other things that
are conducive to happiness, hut they
sink Into second place when we
think of a diseased or crippled body.
Most any physician who was on
the draft board during the World
war, will tell you of the large num
ber of young men who were physi
cally unfit to be classed as A-1 men,
and they will also tell you that most
of these physical defects could have
been prevented or eradicated In
youth. These are the school chil
dren of today.
Our schools are wasting enormous
sums In educating, or trying to edu
cate, the children who are handi
capped by 111 health, when the ex
penditure of much smaller amounts
in a Judicious health program would
produce an enormous saving in econ
omy and efficiency. A dollar spent
promptly In a timely, constructive
effort to conserve a child's health
will be more fruitful for the child
and for human society than will a
thousand dollars applied twenty
Better than 90 per cent—24,000,
000—of our school children have de
fective teeth, and all defective teeth
are Injurious to health. Some of
these defective teeth ore deadly
menaces to their owners.
of the school children of the United
States have physical defects which
are potentially or actually detri
mental to health.
One of the most appalling revela
tions of recent years Is the con
clusion based on unrefuted evl
dence that tin* rural school children
of the country arc handicapped by
more physical defects than pupils
In city schools. While several sig
nificant causes seem to he respon
sible for this condition, the pres
ent inferiority of country children
depends In part upon the fact that
city children receive more health
care Minn those in rural regions.
Where an intensive study of
mouth conditions has been carried
out. It has been proved that dental
attention alone will cnre at lenst
,r>0 per cent of thp other troubles.
Most of the original heart troubles,
glandular diseases, malnutrition nnd
tuberculosis are caused by defective
It lias been said that If nil the
dentists In the United States were
sent to New York, they could not
adequately care for the persons
with defective teeth In that city.
While all these facts are well
known, doesn’t It seem as If a lit
tle money should be spent upon
the physical as well as the mental
welfare of the children In our
Western Newapaoer Union,
CURRENT TOPICS BY
USE OF GAS IN WAR
By CAPTAIN G. J. FISHER
Chemical Warfare Service.
THE next war is not much
more likely to be fought on
a chemical basis than the last.
We don't expect the number of
deaths from chemicals to he mate
rially greater thnn In the last war.
The military effort required to
fly chemicals against cities is such
that It Is doubtful whether military
commanders would feel Justified In
directing men and materials to thut
The progress made in developing
gases since the World war has not
been as great as the general public
has been led to fear. Those who
point out that one ton of mustard
gas Is capable of killing 80,000.000
people run dead up against the fact
that in the World war a ton of this
gas actually killed but three per
By SUMNER WELLES
Assistant Secretary of State.
I''HE solution of their politi
cal difficulties lies now
solely in Cuban hands. We
have abrogated the Platt amendment.
We have renounced the rights of In
tervention which we had previously
secured, and we have made it em
phatically clear that this govern
ment would Interfere neither direct
ly nor Indirectly In the Internal
concerns of the Cuban people.
When any people has suffered
economic prostration coincident
with u political dictatorship, and
the dictatorship Is overthrown by
popular uprising, it Is almost Inev
itable that for a period of time
that country will pass through vary
ing stages of political unrest.
PENDING RAIL LAWS
By W. W. ATTERBUHY
President Pennsylvania Railroad.
I)ROPOSED legislation, if
I enacted, would place an in
supportable burden upon the
railroads without advantages to the
employees. Any treatment of their
problems which omitted considera
tion of the overhanging threat to
the Integrity of the Industry, would
be tantamount to the destruction of
efforts looking toward recovery In
the field of railroad transportation.
Such legislation would mean ulti
mately less employment In the rail
road Industry rather than an In
crease In employment, as contend
ed by the sponsors of this legisla
ONLY PASSING PHASE
By ANDREW W. MELLON
EVEN at 80, one does not ac
i quire the gift of prophecy,
but I look forward to seeing the
return to normal conditions again
within my own time.
America is going through a bad
quarter of an hour, but present con
ditions, however distressing, espe
cially in terms of human suffering,
reflect only n passing phase In our
New generations are coming on
and new Inventions and the ad
vance in human intelligence will
solve many problems that now seein
OUR TAX BURDEN
By MARK GRAVES
New York Commissioner of Taxa
tion and Finance.
IN 1929 the national income
was $90,000,000,000, while
last year it had fallen to about
$45,000,000,IKK). The tax burden in
each year was approximately $10,
000.000,000. I believe It should be
obvious that we are suffering today
because nearly one-quarters of our
income is taken for taxes of one
kind or another, direct or Indirect,
whereas the share was only about
one ninth of our income at the be
ginning of the depression.
ARMS FOR PEACE
By ADOLPH HITLER
FOR in this hour the German
government renews before
the German people, before the.
entire world, its assurance of Us de
termination never to proceed beyond
the safeguarding of German honor
and freedom of the reieh, and es
pecially does it not intend in re
arming Germany to create any in
strument for warlike attack, but, to
the contrary, exclusively for defense
and thereby for the maintenance of
PERMANENCE FOR CCC
By PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT
IT IS my earnest hope that
the work carried on by the
Civilian Conservation corps will
flnd a permanent place in our gov
Only in that way can the nation,
through future generations, enjoy
the full benefit of what already has
been accomplished and the full
measure of all that ultimately will
Dress and Jacket
for the Summer
There will be a notable repre
sentation of straight, loose Jackets,
according to latest fashion reports.
Here’s one added to a short sleeved
frock of the type you can enjoy all
summer, thus creating an ensemble
of comfort for all degrees of tem
perature and all occasions, from
street to afternoon. In the detail
sketch you will note the draped front
girdle which slenderizes and flat
ters, as do the flared revers. The
Jacket may be made bolero length If
you prefer. A triple sheer material
or a heavy rough crepe, the bodice
and revers in contrasting color,
would be attractive.
Pattern 9903 may be ordered only
In sizes 1(1. 18, 20, 34, 38, 38. 40, 42,
14 and 40. Size 30 requires 4 yarda
39 Inch fabric and 1 yard contrast
SEND FIFTEEN CENTS in coins
or stamps (coins preferred) for this
pattern. lie sure to write plainly
your NAME, ADDRESS, STYLE
NUMBER and SIZE.
Complete, diagrammed sew chart
Send your order to Sewing Circle
Pattern Department, 232 West Eight
eenth Street, New York.
ON THE JOB
Citizen—The legislature makes too
many laws—useless laws.
Legislator (eagerly making a mem
orandum)—I will put through a law
ngainst that, but of course, It will
be quite useless.
Lawyer (to feminine witness) —
IIow old are you?
Witness—I’m just turned twenty
Lawyer—Ab, I see—that means
you are forty-two.
Doesn’t Matter Anyway
Teacher—Your sou is very back
ward in geography.
Father—That does not matter.
We have no money for traveling.
He—And who was the silly chump
who said you couldn’t drive?
She—The coroner.—Answers Mag
Who, When and Why
"Do you know Percy Smith?"
“Yes! What do they call him?"
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