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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (June 16, 1899)
CHAPTKR I. "Handsome? Yes. He has the most mnocent blue eyes in the world, and the smile of an angel; but he broke his mother's heart, spent her fortune and his own, and committed every wickedness under the sun before he was one-and-twenty. Yes, it is very sad—very! And now poor old Col onel Branscomb is dying—the ac counts this morning were quite hope less—and Charlie is his next heir. An other fortune for him to squander, as he has already squandered everything he could lay his bands on.” “Put 1 thought the estate was not entailed," remarked the lady to whom the foregoing was addressed. "No, It Is not entailed, but the Col onel has very strong Ideas on the subject of hereditary right. He nev er would make a will; he has always believed that Charlie ultimately would pull himself together—poor old man; he must die in that belief. Char lie will make ducks and drakes of beautiful Forest Lea in no time. Ob, It is a sorrowful pity!" The speaker, a handsome well pre served woman of fifty or thereabouts, with the exclusive stamp of the "county" about her, sighed profound ly as she concluded. "But there is the niece—the Colonel was devoted to her, 1 understood,” re marked the second voice. "Yes, absolutely devoted. Poor dear child—she will miss him terribly In every way! 1 believe the Colonel pleased blmseif at one time with the idea of a marriage between Nona and Charlie, and threw them very much together—too much, when you consid- !• er what a fascinating scapegrace he is. She is a very sweet girl." “I hope her uncle has provided for her. She was quite dependent on him, was she not?” "Yes. It Is impossible to say what he has done—something, I hope. But without a will—which he certainly has not made—I should be afraid-" Here I, Sidney Fort, the involuntary listener to a conversation which, con sidering the place anil circumstances, was certainly indiscreet, stirred, coughed, and otherwise made the fact of my waking presence known. The voices, which had been somewhat raised, dropped at once to a lower tone. I was the third passenger in a first [ at the office—“Old family; estate worth fifteen thousand a year; busi ness In the hands of the firm since 1825. Mr. Rowton thought a great ! deal of the Colonel; rather eccentric and arbitrary, but a gentleman down to the ground; quite of the old school; never married; had nephews and nieces;" he—Fisher—had seen a young gentleman at the office, a neph ew of the Colonel's. The adltional Information conveyed by my fellow-passengers imparted to my expedition the interest it had hith erto lacked. I was no doubt about to save Forest I>»a from the hamlH of the spendhrlft Charlie, and possibly to en dow a young and lovely girl with the fortune he had forfeited. The matter was lifted all at once from a dry de tail of business into a chapter of re manre. I am, notwithstanding my profession, somewhat imaginative, and by the time the train stopped at Westford, the station for which I was bound, I had drawn a sufficiently fan cilful sketch of the position. Little, however, did 1 guess how the events and experiences of the ensuing week were to color and influence my own future life. My traveling companions also alighted at Westford. 1 saw them, at tended by a maid and a footman, and obsequiously escorted by the station master and porters, drive off in a wagonette with a pair of wpll-groomed roans, and then I was accosted by an elderly groom with a cockade in his hat. “Mr. Fort, for Colonel Branscombe's, Forest Lea, sir?" “Yes," I replied. "How is the Col onel?" “Very bad, sir,” answered the man, shaking his head, and with the man ner of a good servant who feels the loss of a good master. My luggage, which consisted of a small portmanteau and a black hag, was put into the dog-cart in waiting and in a few minutes I was being driv en at an exhilarating pace through something like six miles of a country which, in its summer beauty of rich foliage and delicious grpen pasture was “A good mastpr served by faithful servants,” I soliloquized. "They are dreading the change which spendthrift Charlie's reign will bring. It remains to be seen whethet that reign is to be, or whether a fair young chatelaine is "OH! IT 13 A SORROWFUL PITY" t class railway carriage, traveling from Ixmdon towards a country Hiation In the midland counties. I had at start ing withdrawn into the fartherest cor ner of the carriage, and. being sleepy from the previous night's burning of the midnight oil, had disposed myself to utilize the enforced Idleness of the Journey In recouping exhausted na ture. I believe that the two ladies, in the Interest of their subject, had quite forgotten that they were nol alone. With my newspaper spread ov er my face I looked, as to all lutents and purposes I was. up to a certain point, a dummy. The soft murmur of the feminine voices had had at first a •opurltlc effect; hut the journey Was somewhat long. and. the demands of nature satisfied, I awoke to hear the fag end of a conversation which, strange to -ay. had a particular Inter est for me I was the Junior partner lately ad mitted. of a firm of lamdou solicitors One of my seniors was on the Conti nent. the other was laid up with one of the serious bouts of bronchitis which had been the primary cause my initiation into the secrets of a large and Important clientele Mi !m perativ* summon* had rt>tne early that morning for our Mr Mow ton to take Instructions for the will of a louatry client The terms of the telegram ad mitted of no delay, and within an hour of Ms receipt I was on my way to (Huston Station wkeme I wired to "t ‘olottel ilralist otut-e forest la-a Mldsbite.’* that ‘Kidney Curt, of Messrs Maw ion ( Curt,' had left by the It *4 train," and would be wub him m>t later than * p m (a the absence of my principal and the pressure at starting t bad no fur ther knowledge of my client than tke ftf|NsU furnish**1 by ths bead glefh —like the good St. Elizabeth of gra cious memory—to dispense her smiles and her charities in the place of the beloved Colonel. CHAPTER II. 1 he great oak doors opened noise lessly Hrt I mounted the wide shallow steps Evidently some one wus on the watch to save the clangor of the loud bell through the silent sick-house. I stepped from the portico into a large wide hall hung with antlered beads and other trophies, telling of the Colo nel's love for sport, and carpeted with tiger and other skins spread on the polished oak floor It was altogether an Imposing uud appropriate entrance to the tine old mansion Here, amongst the distinctly mascu line elements. I was not long In de tei-tlng the subtle signs of the pres ence a huh had Jem pervaded my waking dreams of Purest Isa Sei on the ample old-fasht >n*d win low-ledge were old china bowls heaped with rti h crlm«>n and golden iim<< an) the wide Areptaie was Riled with grace fully grouped ferns A steady hat wreathed with green leaves lay ua a little Spiral-legged utile, close to a large old fashioned screen which steal oft i he »tai is sad near thi "i., r,, j been thrown « pen of tin) gauntlet gloves which could never hate Riled f**«* rotoi..-! » ho W \ llllle |. . It and tan terrier, nest led in <me <4 tb* fur rugs roused itself and cam** up to m*. nestling Us mid Riu* la my of fered palm and tt-ohmg up into my j tea* with It— wistful appeal uf its M). .laid* Mttrr kdiirsilf It was a lady • pet a«gie« ted or forgotten in itee presente of sal and overwhelming carwe A grays middle aged man servant Interrupted iny observations with a respect ftul greeting, i ‘'Dinner will be served at 7 o’clock, sir," he said, “Will you take any re freshments now—brandy or soda, or sherry and bitters, sir? There is tea in the drawing-room still." Then, as I declined all his hospitable sugges tions. ho added, "1 will show you to your room, then, if you please, sir. Tke Colonel is sleeping; the doctors are most anxious he should not be disturbed. W'e had Sir Alfred Cox down from I-ondon this morning. 1 was to say that the Colonel might not be able to see you for some little time, He has had no sleep before this for elght-and-forty hours—he has had such violent pains—and now that the sleeping-draught has taken effect the medical gentlemen make a great point of-’* "Oh, certainly—I quite understand! We must hope that this sleep will be a turning point in the illness," I said cheerfully. "Of course It is of vital Importance that the Colonel should not be aroused. Sleep Is often the best medicine.” “The Colonel has been counting the hours until you could be here, sir.” the man went on, as he unpacked my portmanteau and laid out my apparel. He sent for the Bradshaw as soon as your telegram came, and ordered the dog-cart himself. He only dropped off as you turned into the avenue. Is that all I can do for you,.sir? You will find the morning papers in the library." There was a suppressed Interest and excitement in the manner of the man, who was evidently an old and confi dential retainer. My arrival and mis sion were, as I could see, matters of supreme importance and curiosity to that anxious household. The butler was waiting for me again in the hall as I descended the stairs. He threw open the door of the room on the right, and ushered me in with the announcement: "Mr. Fort.” It was with a momentary and un comfortable thought of my morning dress that I found myself in the pres ence of a lady—a fair slim girl whose white gown made her at once a con spicuous point in the sombre, heavily ftirnished room. She was seated in a large leather chair at the table In the center of the apartment, her hands folded over the closed volume In her lap, and her eyes fixed upon the door. Large limpid blue-gray eyes they were, I saw as I came nearer, searching mine with an anxious questioning gaze. This then was the "Nona” of whom my fellow passengers had spoken—the idea! about which I had woven so many Imaginings. A very fair maiden, the fairest, sweetest—I decided on the in stant—whom it had ever been ray lot to meet, although »he lovely eyes were ringed with dark shadows as from watching and weeping, and the white gown had been put on without the ad dition of a single flower or ornament. She rose as I advanced towards her and bowed gravely. Once, I thought her hand stole out with a hesitating gesture—as if she would have offered it to me. But it was withdrawn almost instantly, and rested on the table be side her, as she stood, a graceful droop ing figure, with that indescribable and exquisite grace of delicate refinemcut which is inherited—never acquired. A very gracious chatelaine, 1 thought, If the sleeping colonel upstairs should so will. And with the thought there came a strange dumb thrill of pain, as if the fair vision were floating away from me into the dim shadowy dis tance. Some conventional remark as to th3 weather was the only thing which oc curred to me, and seemed for its com monplaceness terribly out of harmony with the spirit of the occasion, es- ; peclally.as it was net by another long, troubled, almost trembling look into my face. (To be continued.) MARRIED TO ORDER. — How Alexander the tireat Celebrated HU \ li lory Over Duriin. The newspaper reporters of the time of Alexander the Great, had there been any, would have had the heaviest day's work of thlr lives in covering the interesting events that marked the day Alexander was married. On that day. says the New York Journal, au thenticates! accounts tell us, no l-*sa than 20.202 men and women were made husbands and wives Alexander had conquered Darius of Persia, and felt that this great achievement was im portant enough to be signalized In a conspicuous manner, Imagine the pride of a conqueror who decide* that It can be measured properly only by g wholesale giving and taking In mar riage the like of w. e|» the world lias never seen Alexander himself mar ried itigtlra, the daughter of the con quered king and decreed that un» hundred of his chief officers should he united to one hundred ladies from 'h* noblest Persian an t kledean families In addition to this, he stipulated that tO.ooo of his Greek -o o.ers should marry V«tatle women When [everything w->s settled a vast pavilion was rrrcted. the pillars of which were ] six fed high title hundred gorgeous ' chambers adjoined this for (he hun ^ dred nouie bfhlegr** ins, while f.>r the | !it,«w an outer court was Inclosed iHtf* , Side <>f who n tv'ilcs were Spr- t| for 1 the multitude K i. h pair ha I •> *t* 1 and ranged tb> m**lv«a In sent Ctr l-** { vr. it I the royal throne ttf itotrse I the prtests could *ui marry tht* vast k'lisiet of luntple* In the ordinary Way. so ti issTf (he Great devised 4 v«rv stntP-e ceremony He gave his 1 hand to Hiatlra and b »»<d her an «x* , ample that all the Nn leg moot* fo]> ! iowe l This ended the ceremony l Then follow-d tne festival wht. h *a»t j ed It* days, ttVe grandeur id Which has Wetter been equated aim e PHANTOM SHIP —OR— The Flying Dutchman. •»''*-BY CAPTAIN MAJtXYAT. CHAPTER XXIV—(Continued.) The morning dawned with a smooth sea and a bright blue sky; the raft , nad been borne to leeward of the clus ter of uninhabited islands of which we spoke, and was now without hopes of reaching them; but to the westward I were to be seen on the horizon the re fracted heads and trunks of cocoanut trees, and in that direction it was re solved that they should tow the raft. The breakfast had been served out, and the men bad taken to the oars, when they discovered a proa full of men sweeping after them from one of the islands ter windward. That It was a pirate vessel there could be no doubt; but Philip and Krantz considered that Ihelr force was more than sufficient to repel them, should an attack be made. This was pointed out to them; arms were distributed to all in the boats, as well as to those on the raft; and that the seamen might not be fatigued, they were ordered to lie on their oars, and await the coming up of the vessel. As soon as the pirate was within range, having reconnoitered her an- ; tagonists, she eea9ed pulling, and com- j menced firing from a small piece of cannon which was mounted on her | bows. The grape and langridge which she poured upon them wounded sev- j eral of the men, although Philip had ordered them to lie down flat on the raft and in the boats. The pirate ad vanced nearer, and her Are became more destructive, without any oppor tunity of returning it by the Utrecht’s people. At last it was proposed, as the only chance of escape, that the boats should attack the pirate. This was agreed to by Philip; more men j were gent In the boats; Krantz took the command; the raft was cast off, and the boats pulled away. But scarce ly had they cleared the raft, when, 33 j by one sudden thought, they turned round, and pulled away In the oppo site direction. Krantz’s voice was ! hpard by Philip, and his sword wa3 ! seen to flash through the air; a mo ment afterward he plunged into the I sea, and swam to the raft. It ap- 1 peared that the people in the boats, j anxious to preserve the money which j they had possession of, had agreed among themselves to pull away and leave the raft to its fate. The pro- j posal for attacking the pirate had been suggested with that view, and as soon as they were clear of the raft, they put their intentions into execu tion. in vain had Krantz expostulated and threatened; they would have taken his life; and when he found that his efforts were of no avail, he leaped from the boat. “Then we are lost, I fear," said Philip, addressing the pilot, who stood near to him. “Lest—but not lost by the pirates —no harm there! He. he!” The remark of Schriften was correct. The pirates. Imagining that in taking to their boats the people had carried with them everything that was valu able, instead of firing at the raft, im mediately gave chase to the boats. The sweeps were now out, and the proa fr*w over the smooth water like a sea- j bird, passed the raft, and was at first | evidently gaining on the boats; but , their speed soon slackened, and as the day passed, the boats and then the pi- j rate vessel disappeared in the south- I ward; the distance between them be- j ing apparently much the same as at the commencement of the chase. The raft being now at the mercy of the wind and waves, Philip and Krantz collected the carpenter’s tools which had been brought from the ship, and selecting two spars from the raft, they made every preparation for stepping a mast and setting sail by the next | morning. The morning dawned, and the first | objects that met their view were the boats pulling back toward the raft, followed closely by the pirate. The ! men had pulled the whole night, and were worn out with fatigue, it was presumed that a consultation had been held, in which it was agreed that they should make a sweep, so as to return to obtain provisions and water, which they had not on board at the time of i their desertion. But it was fated other- ■ wise, gradually the men dropped their oar*, exhausted. Into the bottom of the bout, and the pirate vessel follow ed them with renewed ardor. The boats were raptured one by one; the booty found was more than the pirates anticipated, and it hardly need be said that not one was spared All this took piaee within three mile* of the raft, and I'htllp anticipated that the next movement of the vessel would be to ward them, but he was mistaken Hat tailed with their booty. and imagining that there could h« no m ire on the raft, the pirate pulled away to the east ward toward the islands from among whUh she had Ural made her appear Hr* Thu* Were Item* who expected j to c*« ape and who ha-l deserted their 'ompauton* deservedly punished, while those who anticipated every ills v»ter front thlv desertion discovered that It was ns « nit* of their baiag saved the r»nt-»in>ng people* ott hoard the •aft amounted to about forty live, Philip Kistu H* hrlften Amine, the wo mates eiiteeu seamen and tw*n y f'lt soldier* wb‘* bad b--n etn curbed at Amsterdam ttf provision* hey had tail lent f<tr three or four ■ *skt. hut at • ale* they were very thort. already um having sufMciant fur more than three days at the usual al lowance. As soon as the mast hail been stepped and rigged, and the sails set (although there was hardly a breath of wind), Philip explained to the men the necessity of reducing the quantity of water, and It was agreed that it should tie served out so as to ex tend the supply to twelve days, the allowance beipg reduced to half a pint per day. There was a debate at this time, as the raft was In two parts, whether It would not be better to cast off the smaller one, and put all the people on board the other; but this proposal was overruled, as, in the first place, al though the boats had deserted them, the number on the raft had not much diminished, and moreover, the raft would steer much better under sail now that it had length, than it would do If they reduced its dimensions and al tered Its shape to a square mass of floating wood. For three days It was calm, the sun poured down his hot beams upon them, and the want of water was severely feu; those who continued to drink spirits suffered the most. The night closed in as before; the stars shone bright, hut there was no moon. Philip had risen at midnight to relieve Krantz from the steerage of the raft. I'suaily the men had lain about in every part of the raft, hut this night the majority of them re mained forward. Philip was commun ing with his own bitter thoughts, wh9n he heard a scuffle forward, and the voice of Krantz crying out to him for help. He quitted the helm, and seiz ing his cutlass ran forward, where he found Krantz down, and the men se curing him. He fought his way to him. but was himself seized and disarmed. ■ Cut away—cut away," was called out j by those who held him; and In a few seconds Philip had the misery to be hold the after-part of the raft, with Amine upon it, drift apart from the one on which he stood. “For mercy's sake! my wife—my Amine!—for Heaven’s sake, save her!" cried Philip, struggling in vain to disengage himself. Amine also, who had run to the side of the raft held out her arms—it was in vain—they were separated by more than a cable's length. Philip made one more desper ate struggle, ar.d then fell down de- j prived of sense and motion. CHAPTER XXV. It was not until the day had dawned that Philip opened his eyes, and dis- | covered Krantz kneeling at his side; at first his thoughts were scattered and confused; he felt that some dread ful calamity had happened to him, but he could not recall to mind what it was. At last it rushed upon him, and he burled his face in his hands. "Take comfort," said Krantz, “we shall probably gain the shore today, and we shall go in search of her as soon as we can.” He offered such consolation as his friendship could suggest, but in vain. He then talked of revenge, and Philip raised his head. After a few min utes' thought, he rose up. “Yes,” re plied he, “revenge!—revenge upon those dastards and traitors! Tell me, Krantz, how many can we trust?" “Half of the men, I should think, at least. It was a surprise.” A spar had been fitted as a rudder, and the raft had now gained nearer the shore than It ever had done before. The men were in high spirits at the pros pect, and every man was sitting on his own store of dollars, which, In their eyes, Increased in value in pro portion as did their prospect of escape. Philip discovered from Kranta that It was the soldiers and most indiffer ent seamen who had mutinied on the night before and cut away the other raft, and that all the best men had remained neutral. “And so they wilt be now, I im agine," continued Kranta; "the pros pect of gaining the shore has. In a manner, reconciled them to the treach ery of their companions." “Probably," replied Philip, with a hitter laugh; “but I know- what will rouse them, Send them here to me." Philip talked to the seamen whom Kranta had sent over to him. He pointed out to them that the other nn'ii were traitors not to be relied up on; that they would sacrifice every thing and everybody for their own gain; that they had already done so for money, and that they themselves would have no security, either on the raft or on the shore, with such peo ple, that they dare not sleep for fear of having thetr throats cut, and that It were better at ottre to get rill of thi>se who could not b# true to each other, I that |t would facilitate thetr escape j and that they could divide between j tnrieeelves the money which the others I had se< ure<l and by which they could double their own shares That It had j been hi* intention, although he had •aid nothing to enforce the restoration of the money for the t-eft*It' of the I company as arts a# they had gained I a l« tltr«d port, where the authorllte* could inlet (ere; but that If they r«ui- j seated to futa sad aid him he would now give th*-m the whole of it for their t own a or What will not the deetre of gain ef- j feet * Is It therefore to te< Woadeied at that thee# men who were, indeed hut little better than those who were thus, In his desire for retaliation, de nounced by Philip, consented to his proposal? It was agreed that If they did not gain the shore the others should be attacked that very night and tossed into the sea. But the consultation with Philip had put the other party on the alert; they, too. held council and kept their arms by their sides. As the breeze died away, they were not two miles from the land, and once more they drifted back into the ocean. Philip’s mind was borne down with grief at the loss of Amine; but It recovered to a cer tain degree when he thought of re venge; that feeling stayed him up, and he often felt the edge of his cutlass, impatient for the moment of retribu tion. It was a lovely night; the sea was now smooth as glass, and not a breath of air moved in the heavens; the sail of the raft hung listless down the mast, and was reflected upon the calm sur face by the brilliancy of the starry night alone. It was a night for con templation—for examination of one’s self, and adoration of the Deity; and here, on a frail raft, were huddled to gether more than forty beings, ready for combat, murder and for spoil. Each party pretended to repose; yet each wag quietly watching the motions of the othpr, with their hands upon their weapons. The signal was to be given by Philip; It was to let go the halyards of the yard, so that the sail would fall down upon a portion of the other party and entag'e them. By Philip's directions Schriften had taken the helm, and Krantz remained by his side. The yard and sail fell clattering down, and then the work of death * commenced; there was no parley, no suspense; each man started upon his feet and raised his sword. The voices cf Philip and Krantz alone were heard, and Philip’s sword did Its work. He was nerved to his revenge, and never could be satiated as long as one re mained who had sacrificed Amine. As Philip had expected, many had been covered up and entangled by the fall ing of the sail, and their work was thereby made easier. Some fell where they stood; others reeled back and sank down under the smooth water; others were pierced as they floundered under the canvas. In a few minutes the work of car nage was complete. Schriften meanwhile looked on, and ever and anon gave vent to his chuckling laugh—his demoniacal "He! he!" The strife was over and Philip stood against the mast to recover his breath. “So far art thou revenged, my Amine,” thought he; “but, oh! what are these paltry lives compared with thine?” And now that his revenge was satiated, and he could do no more, he covered hts face up with his hands and wept bitterly, while those who had assisted him were already collecting the money of the slain for distribu tion. These men, when they found that three only of their side had fal len, lamented that there had not been more, as their own share of the dol- ^ lars would have been increased. There were now but thirteen men besides Philip, Krantz and Schrtften left upon the raft. As the day dawned the breeze again sprang up, and they shared out tho portions of water which would have been the allowance of their companions who had fallen. Hunger they felt not; but the water revived their spirits. (To be continued.) HELD COURT AT DOO SHOW. A Pretty tilrl und the Attention She Attracted by Her Artiom. Over at the dog show on the open ing night a pretty girl followed by the customary masculine throng that al ways circulates around a pretty girl as a moth whirls around a candle, wan dered through the aisles of the First regiment armory and listened to all the noisy canines sing their doleful songs of woe and wrong. She patted the heads of the ugliest bulldogs and twist ed a bunch of violets into the collar of a shaggy St. Bernard. She pulled the tails of the kinkled pugs and tweaked the ears of the Jaun ty fox-terriers. She righted a collar that had turned awry and even ven tured to make friends with the blood hounds. The dogs were happy and so was the pretty girl. The delight of the eseorting masculine throng was not so evident, but they pretended at least that they enjoyed playing seconJ fiddle to a i'og rather than not having a chance to take part In her orchestra at all. One grea' bulldog evidently shared the sentiments of the men When the pretty girl reached the cage that con tained the ferocious looking brute she found It had no water and was bark ing Its dissatisfaction at the turn of affair* In the most emphatically pro testing manner. "The poor dog." exclaimed the girl lit crescendo accents of pity, and at once she remedied the evil by helping her four footed frleml to some water stolen front the nelghtxirlng cage Aft er that act of mercy the dog, like the men, was her abject victim. • It put iM th paws on her shoulder* • nd laid H head down affectionately, and when the girl attempted to wander away the dog cried so piteously that she returned again and again to com fort It. * Boor thing,” exclaimed one of the surrounding men with » ahim »!« at grimn>e. poor thing Who anti that a dog hadn't th* feeling* of n man *" The pretty girl laughed und blushed and r«n ar«t*d the speaker wtth the present of a very special smile btatlfitl1 That young mu and hit »tfe e ho seemed mi much In love htvg ke*u attested as swindler*" ‘Thai proses their devotion tog om They were lake* up with each other | |p, adeiphtg Bulletin