The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917, June 06, 1902, Image 3
' A WARRIOR BOLD. B\j ST. GEORGE RATHRORSE, Author of “Wile Sfnt MUlione.' '■The Spider'e Web," ' Dr Jack ! Willow'," ■■Slim Capriet," etc. Copyright. 1901, Street and Smith, New York. CHAPTER VII. “Take Care, Captain Brand!” Artemus looked into his companion's face as the other made this strange and unexpected announcement. Himself something of a practical joker, it was natural that the dramatic student of human nature should be suspicious lest he fall a victim to some deep-laid plot to bring down upon his head the laugh that cuts so keenly. But Charlie looked as grave as a deacon. Had he been attending the obsequies of the man who was hung, he could not have appeared more sol emn. Matters of this character always pos sessed for him a peculiarly strong in terest, and he was eager to glean the particulars. “Well, it isn't given to most of us to see a man hung, and then meet him afterward alive and well. Tell me about it, Charlie, my boy.” There isn't a great deal to narrate. At the time an insurrection in Chili was causing the most intense excite ment, and some very bloody battles were fought about Santiago. "I chanced to be. as I said, in Val paraiso. One day 1 found myself in a crowd of excited citizens and soldiers, in the midst of whom stood a prisoner —a spy, caught red-handed, upon whom they were about to execute sum mary judgment. That was Captain Nathaniel. “The word was given, and I heard a roar from five hundred throats as the wretch was jerked off his feet. "One moment I saw him as he dangled in space, hands and feet strik ing out wildly—a spectacle 1 shall nev er forget to my dying day. “There came a sudden shot, and Kedge fell to the ground in a heap— some one had cut the rope with a well aimed bullet. “Immediately the deuce of a row broke out, but bless you, the affair died away as speedily as it began, and then, gradually, it dawned upon the minds of the crowd that a great hoax had been successfully carried out. “For when they looked for Kedge, in order to complete their artistic lit tle job, behold! the man who had al ready been partially hung had disap peared, nor were they able to discover him, though Valparaiso was thorough ly searched. “That is my little story, and I am almost ready to swear that our Capt. Brand in yonder is the identical Kedge, grown a little gray in the ser vice of beating the world, but just the same old sixpence.” Artemus nodded, and they separated for a time. But their meeting had not been un observed. The ubiquitous baron had his eye on ^ them, and possibly figured out some wonderful game as connected with his mysterious conversation. Charlie went back to Arline and tapt. Brand, and the three chatted for a while. Then Arline graciously consented to play several favorite pieces, while Charlie idly glanced through a book made up of fugitive songs and music. It was while doing this he suddenly came upon an opportunity to make another test of the man’s identity. So Charlie handed the well-worn book of music to the fair girl. “Play that for me—an old favorite— always revives pleasant recollections.” Charlie was so situated that a side glance into a massive pier glass gave him an excellent view of the man who had arisen from the dead. What Stuart had so accidentally, yet fortunately, come across was the Chi lian National Hymn. He watched the •‘ffect upon Capt. Brand. When the first rather weird notes of this Spanish-American music throbbed upon the air, Brand sat bolt upright upon the divan. Involuntarily he seemed to gasp for breath; his tongue partly protruded from his mouth, as though he were being choked, while his hand crept up to his throat and clutched his loose collar, as if to tear it away. Charlie exulted in the sight. It con firmed his suspicions. There was no longer the faintest doubt remaining in his mind. This was the man! Finally they said good-night. Charlie managed to whisper a few sentences in Arline’s ear while the captain waited at the door, »o that he was assured of seeing her again on the morrow. Capt. Brand led her away. One smiling glance she sent back over her plump shoulder—gods! what a thrill it save the bachelor who re ceived it! Here was a miracle. He felt dazed—felt as though he walked in a dream. He who had scoff ed at such a ridiculous thing as love at first sieht. who hart always declared the holy passion a flower of slow growth, founded upon mutual friend ship and esteem, now discovered his theory in utter ruin, and not only that, but himself engulfed in the chaotic debris'. Finally he aroused himself to a realization of the fact that there were a few more people in the world besides Arline Brand. How about the baron? Had he learn ed of his mistake by this time with re gard to the identity of the Countess . Isolde? * The idea of taking Arline for the fascinating countess was absurd. How could so shrewd a man hav# been de I celved? Why did an occasional 3n gerina doubt, still find lodgment In Charlies heart. No woman could play such a game. Arllne must be what she seemed. Hank Peterhoff and his miserable warnings! Mo he trusted blindly. If there was a pit, he would fall into it. headlong, for love had already blinded him. Or was the Russian bear still on guard? Could the hotel be surrounded by his emissaries, ready to entrap the wonderful adventuress? Having decided to smoke a weed and take a look around ere retiring to his bunk, Charlie lighted up and saunter ed toward the open door leading to the street. When he stepped out of the hotel door, he was astonished to discover little knots of men, dressed in the well-known uniform of the Antwerp gendarmes, standing near the Hotel de la Paix. Then it burst upon him that he had not placed eflough significance upon what the baron had confided to him. This did not mean the mere arrest of a clever adventuress, charged with no specific crime save that of enslaving men of rank, and compelling them, through her witchery, to contribute from their wealth toward her regal support. It stood for something grander, something that might yet shake a greater part of Europe with a mighty convulsion, since the conspir acy in which the Countess Isolde was connected concerned more than one imperial throne. Charlie forgot that he had been sleepy. His eyes were never brighter than now. it seemed that the countess had fin ally made a stupendous blunder, and Peterhoff * hour of triumph was at hand. It would mark an epoch in the lives of many prominent men in Europe when Isolde Brabant vanished behind the walls of a military fortress. Some who had been in the tolls would breathe easy for the first time in many moons, and drink a bumper to her long residence in her new and exclusive palace. So Charlie watched and waited, deep in reflection. When his cigar was about half con sumed, he thought he would saunter down the street a short distance, to see what effect, if any, his appearance might have upon the officers on guard. The result was really more than he had anticipated. He had not gone more than u dozen paces before, without the least warn ing, he felt a rough hand laid roughly upon his arm. As he turned to see what was want ed, a second hand gripped his other arm. A bended face looked into his own. “Messieurs, 1 am afraid you—” he began. “Silence!” “Have made a little mistake.” "Silence on your life!" was hissed. He saw’ frowning pistols. It was evident that the officers meant business. Charlie began to grow a little indig nant. “See here! send for the baron!” he Insisted. “He is engaged.” “But he is my friend—he will be angry with you for making so ridicu lous a blunder." “So. But we carry out his orders. Now, not a word more, mynherr.” “Confound—” “Do you hear? Not one word, on your life!” Charlie shrugged his shoulders. Ah! a whistle!—evidently a signal. The game was about to be called. Even as he stood there, held fast by his captors, he saw a man enter the door of the hostelry. It was Peterhoff. Another and another followed, until Charlie had counted a round dozen. At the same time there was a stretching of lines in the street Sig nals passed from mouth to mouth, and Charlie understood that the well known Hotel de la Paix was in the center of a strong cordon of officers, through which escape was impossible. Alas! for the countess! It was her hour of doom! He listened, swayed by contending emotions. Somehow Arline was in his mind. Perhaps there might be a tight. Some of those who would be found in the society of Isolde Brabant were desperate men. connected with an archists and nihilists, sworn to re duce society in Europe to one dead level. They might take their lives in their hands and endeavor to give battle. Still, the awful influence of Peter hoffs dreaded name was sufficient, under ordinary conditions, to freeze the fighting blood in the veins of most men, however brave they might be. To his surprise, he heard no shot, not even a shout or a scream. The baron's sudden appearance in their midst must have paralyzed the conspirators. Presently they would be trooping forth under escort, to be hurried away to gloomy prison cells. And as for himself. Charlie smoked calmly on. This was another experience, that was all. He seemed bound to suffer In the cause of Arline Brand. Because she chanced to resemble the notorious Countess Isolde in possessing an en trancing figure, and also golden hair and eyes that rivaled the summer skies of Italy, forsooth, the baron must fall Into error and bring about this en tanglement. Well, perhaps all things would work together for good, if he but put hi* ! shoulder to the wheel. And tin cause wna on# In wVrti h# could stand considerable knocking about with complacency. He watched the hotel door. The baron would be sorry on ac count of his blunder. Naturally, h« would want to make amends, and Charlie had already concluded to en list his valuable services in tho work of unmasking Captain Brand. If anybody could accomplish this matter, surely it was Peterhoff. whose long experience and facilities for se curing information would stand him in good stead. Ah! there were signs of life. A number of sombre closed vehicles came dashing down the gassen. They drew up before the hotel. A few loungers gathered in the door way out of idle curiosity. Heads ap peared at the windows across the way, as though some spirit of intuition, passing through space, gave warning that strange events were occurring. Charlie’s captors began to move along toward the hotel door, and of course, he was forced to accompany them. He was still twenty paces away when the baron came out.bearing upon his arm a lady with a sylphlike form, but who was heavily veiled. Charlie's traitor heart leaped at sight of her. The graceful carriage was so like that of Arline, so queenly and perfect. Yet he knew beyond peradventure that this was the countess who had finally fallen into the toils of the fowler. Charlie was inclined to rush and seize upon his friend, the baron; but those two guards held his arms in a grip of steel. Attract the attention of Peterhoff he could not, since the other had eyes only for the woman at his side, know ing his men were capable of executing the orders previously given. So he assisted her into a vehicle and swept one last glance around. Charlie cried out. Other sounds there were in the street just then. At any rate, the baron never vouchsafed a single look in his quarter, but waved an arm, jumped into the vehicle and was gone. By this time the gendarmes were issuing from the hotel, each with a companion, most of the prisoners be ing gentlemen. As fast as the vehicles were tilled with guards and captives they dashed away. Charlie's turn came. He attempted a protest, but was roughly shoved along and thrust into one of the closed ve hicles. which presently lumbered down the street. And so th<» innocent suffered with the guilty. (To be continued.) A MIDNIGHT CALL UPON METHUEN Soldier’* Sense of Human Not Deatroyad by Hard Work. The recent capture and release ol Lord Methuen by the Boers has given rise to a number of stories relating to this unlucky commander's career in the army, says the Cleveland Plain Dealer. Long before the Boer war began Lord Methuen was campaign ing in South Africa at the head of the famous band of rough riders known as Methuen's Horse. A member of the regiment. G. L. Chesterton, has since made a reputation as a worker in the field of London journalism, and he it is who tells this anecdote of cam paigning on the borders of Bechuana land; “When we were encamped on the big hill overlooking the Setlagoli Riv er, not very far from Mafeking, Lord Methuen used to occupy a common bell tent, near to which slept a couple of his orderlies and myself, his field trumpeter. One dark night the Hon. 'Dick' Cotton came stumbling into camp and, endeavoring to discover the whereabouts of the commander, ap proached us, shouting in a high voice: ’Paul, I say, Paul, where are you? Presently from the inside of the tent came a more sonorous sound: 'Is that you, Dick? What do you want?’ The jaded wayfarer remarked: 'Do you know, Paul, that I asked one of yout men where 1 could find you, and he told me to go to -!’ Without a moment's hesitation Lord Methuen re plied: ‘Come inside, Dick, come in side.’ ” The Sarcemful Wooer. Men would have a great deal more chance of success In their wooing il they understood better how girls like to be wooed. As it is, they have nc idea on the subject that is at all use ful, and many a lover's suit is unsuc cessful just because he is ignorant ol a girl’s tastes in that direction. Now, if girls had the matter in theii own hands they would manage verj differently. To begin with, they would never play the bashful lover. There il nothing less calculated to make a girl say “yes” to the important question than the wooing of a lover who is shy, She despises a man who can't ha\( courage enough to ask her boldly, and when he stammers and hesitates ovei it, instead of walking up boldly to th« lion's mouth, he reduces his chances tt a minimum, says the Philadelphia In quirer. Above all things, woman delights it feeling the superior strength of man When he comes and asks her to be hit wife with a flue, bold front and manlj bearing, the battle is half won. She respects and admires him foi pressing his suit with decision, and when she begins to admire a man lovi does not lag far behind. The trem bling, timorous lover never command! her respect. The fool who buries his head in th« dust has usually the impudence to de clare that there can be nothing di vine. 0 The Mountain of Transfiguration 0 0 By FREDERICK HALL. 0 j JjJ ropyrtgfct im«. Daily Story Pub. Co. i ftft-ftftftftftftftftft ¥. i it ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft Dwight Van Wert was not deformed in any way, and yet he was fearfully and wonderfully made—there was no denying that. His luxuriant crop of flame-hued hair took on quite without culture, indeed despite all culture, the contour of a full-blown prize chrysan themum, from an archipelago of freckles resembling a sepia map of Oceauica. His nose rose like the tower of Lebanon that looketh toward Damascus. To right and left a spread ing ear flapped defiance to any threat ening head wind and this was but the cupola, so to speak, for an assortment of legs and arms that had apparently been selected quite at random from a pile of left-overs in some forgotten corner of the creator's workshop. All of which description is grossly exag gerated, of course, but in no way mis leading, for I found out long ago that in portraying Van it was absolutely necessary to exaggerate in order to make one realize how far from beau tiful he was. From the day he entered scnooi ne was the legitimate prey of tease and bully. I suppose it was hard on Van at first, for at home his mother nad not called him Bricktop nor his father taunted him with the upward tilt of his nose, but he took it all w.th stoical heroism, thrashed whom l c could, diverted whom he could, helped some with their lessons and bribed others by judicious outlay of his spend ing money until, at graduation, he was as popular as any fellow in the class, bowbeit as far from handsome as when a little tad of six. At college he came out at the head of his class. He took a year in Eu rope after that; then he came home, went in with his father and fell in love with Grace Sereno. Of course, he fell In love with Grace. Grace had a nose Phidias could not have bettered, a complexion like the blending of the wild rose and the lily of-the-valley, a figure that was the glory of a tailor-made and the apo theosis of a ball gown, hair she could let fall in lustrous billows to her feet, eyes so big and brown and deep It made you dizzy to look Into them. It was simply heartbreaking to contem plate, and all the more so when tbe victim was a personal friend. Van never took me into his confi dence, but I suspect Grace had figured in his plans ever since his first day at school, when she had asked to havo her seat changed “because it made her feel so bad to look at that little Van Wert boy.” Anyway, In had always done things for her; written to her, sent her presents, and now he went at it deliberately to pay her every cour teous attention affection could suggest or money furnish means for. If you have ever done anything in vivisection, you remember how you felt the first time you saw a live ani mal cut to pieces. It is not a pleasant sensation, but with some of us It came to be almost chronic while we watched Van’s courtship drag out its sickening length. He was such a good fellow and she such a nice girl. To pour his soul out in her service and yet never bore her seemed to have become the purpose of his life; to let him know the truth and yet spare him all she could seemed to be hers. Grace and her mother spent the sum mer at the lakes, and so did Van. In the latter part of November she went Into the city on her aunt’s invitation, and immediately Van’s business took him in at least as often as once a week. When she returned early in February, and Van was as attentive as ever, I knew that that blindness-of-love busi ness (man’s love) is a true story, for Van never seemed to realize that she had been running away from him, and (he whole miserable thing was worse tangled than ever, because we saw that she had got to strike hard, which wa9 not going to be pleasant for her, and Van was going to be cut up to beat everything. It was up in my room one night in Van was far from beautiful. March that Ken and Trenchard and 1 got to talking it over. We had heard a rumor that Grace and her mother were going to Europe, and we knew that meant one of two things—either Van would be reckless and get his quietus right away or else, on some cooked up excuse or other he would follow them. "Of course," said Ken, as he gave a vicious pull at his cigar, “there’s no use kicking against the pricks. Van has got to swing some day, and maybe the sooner it’s over the better.” “Of course,’’ Trench admitted, “Van’s f«t is take bis medicine, that's all right, but—hang it!—he's such a no end of a good fellow and it’ll break him all up and—Lord! 1 wish some body would chloroform him.” •'Fellows,” said Ken, "can't wre do something for Van to break his fall? Hold a blanket for him or something." I told Ken he was a fool, but that no longer makes the impression on him that it should. ‘‘No—hang it!” he said. ‘‘I mean It. Now, look here. We all know that Van isn't what you might call a tear ing beauty. And—great hat! there are other girls, nice girls, slews of girls, that would take him quick if they could get him. Fellows with six figure bank accounts aren't at a dis count—not yet. Suppose we three were to form a sort of benevolent con spiracy, get one of the girls into it, Mamie Crane, maybe, and then pull every wire we could—Beatrice Bene dick fashion—until we had him mar ried-” "No U3e,” interrupted Trenchard; "we might break Mamie Crane's heart, probably would, but that is all would ever come of it. Better leave the whole thing alone.” I felt that I knew Van a little better than either of the other fellows did. and I thought I understood the situa tion, so now I spoke up. "1 tell you, fellows,” I said, “there is just one thing can ease the pressure. You can't drive Van, you can’t coax [ . ■ m. — ' ‘‘Rod,” he said, in a constrained voice, "I would like to speak to you—pri vately—for a minute.” him. and he is not trying to win on his beauty, you can be mighty sure of that, but he knows and cares a lot for Grace; he knows he’s got ability, he knows he’s got money and he thinks he could make her happy enough so that after a while that countenance of his would be—forgotten, you know— she’d get used to It. What you want isn’t another woman in the case—It’s another man, and If you were as smart as Van, as rich as Van, as much In love with Grace as Van, and hand some, I tell you Van would give him a free field for her sake—only provid ing he were just as good a fellow as Van, and Van would have to be the judge, but he would judge fair." We were all silent, and just at that moment there was a tap at the door. “Come in,” I called. The door opened and—It was Dwight Van Wert. We must have looked like a trio of detected counterfeits, but Van never noticed. •’Rod,’’ he said, in a constrained, un natural voice, "may 1 ask the boys to excuse you—I—I would like to speak to you—privately—for a moment.” I knew It must mean his death sen tence. and I followed him, like a lamb to the slaughter. Van closed the door softly, took my arm and led me aero is to where the great hall lamp shed its red light down upon us both. "Rod, old man,” he said, “I have come to tell you that I am engaged to be married. You know to whom—the best girl and dearest in the world— and I wanted you to be the first to congratulate me. It will be In a couple of months, here, and on the 6th of June we sail for Europe on the Cam pania.” He gave my hand a numbing pres sure, then gripped me by the shoul ders and held me off at arm’s length. And I looked at him—at his rubricated hair, his tip tilted nose, his lavish wealth of freckles, his wind-break earj and his eyes. In which was shining the glory of the New Jerusalem—and — by Jove! Dwight Van Wert was the handsomest fellow I ever saw. Fatver Convict* In Kansa*. The warden of the Kansas City penitentiary casts doubt on the suppo sition that a convict does not have the opportunity to go much in society and form a large acquaintance. He says that two of the convicta now in his charge have seen 9,000 prisoners come and go during the twenty-five years since their arrival at the institution. By the way. there are fifty fewer convicts in the penitentiary at this time than there were a year ago. and the warden wonders if Kansas is be coming more law-abiding.—Kansas City Journal. Record Trip of liallooo. Teisserene de Bort, the French aero naut, has secured the lowest tempera ture mark on record—72 degrees cen tigrade, or 97.6 degrees Fahrenheit The reading was registered on a ther mometer in a trial balloon **\Dt up recently, which rose tz a height of 38,000 feet. . .liter* .Mi# OHILDREN WITH ORIGINAL IDkAS Vouugatrf* OIt* Tableau of Garden of Kdra. “In Coitnmh" This story is told by a Philadel phian : “My friends in Santa Barbara, Cal ifornia, that land of perpetual sun shine. have three most interesting and originally minded children, one girl and two boys. They were quite accus tomed to roaming around their fath er's place very scantily clad, so we were not much surprised, upon re turning from a drive one very warm morning, to find all three, clothed only in Nature's garb, at play in the or chard back of the house. The two younger children. Walter and Kath erine, were seated under the branches of a tree—totally naked—looking like Raphael's cherubs, while a few yards away, the eldest boy, George, a man of about seven years, stalked solemnly up and down with an old high silk hat of his father’s perched on his cuily head. Calling Walter to her. the mother said: “What are you playing, darling?’’ “Oh, this Is the Garden of Eden,” responded 5-year-old Walter. "I’m Adam and Kathy's Eve.” “But what on earth is George doing with his father's hat on?” questioned the mother, too well accustomed to the children's mode of Illustrating Bib lical truth to he very much surprised at anything. But even her composure was shaken when, with a most solemn look on his cherubic face Walter re-' sponded, “Oh, he’s God.” WISHED HE HAD THE STORY BACK fonnj Tele I.ost on Non-Appreciative Herman Audience. Col. Adolphus Busch, who has been doing some booming as a member of the St. Ixmis Exposition exploiting committee, tells the following story: "Last summer when I went to Eu rope 1 took along my head brewer, whose admiration for his adopted country is only equaled by his desire to appear thoroughly Americanized. Together we visited his native town in* Germany, where he was made much of. Of course they had a kommers,’ and my companion took the oppor tunity to endeavor to make a speech after the American style, but in the German language, of course. He start ed out boldly, though be is no public speaker, and got along fairly well un til he attempted the funny story which he knew should accompany every American speech worthy the name. It was funny, I assure you, as he told it,; but his hearers were too well-man nered to laugh at their fellow-towns man. and so it fell flat. Discouraged! and disgusted by this lack of appre ciation of American humor, he drop ped heavily into his chair, and, lean ing across the table, whispered hoarse ly to me: " I’d gif ten tollars If dot story was pack into me.' ”—New York Times. The World's Greatest Problem. An organized effort to conquer the greatest problem of the age is urged by Prof. John Perry. The world’s present comfort depends upon coal, but our steam engines are wasting from 90 to 99 per cent of their fuel, while the store of coal is vanishing at Buch a rate that in another hundred years the English hamlets of content ed working folk that have become cities of luxurious people will decay again into hamlets, inhabited by a dis contented, poverty-stricken popula tion. Taking the value of human la bor as the normal value of energy, England is wasting 900 times its na tional debt every year. The voltaic cell wastes less than 10 per cent of its fuel energy and paths have been epened that seem to lead to a conver sion of the energy of coal into me chanical work through electricity with like small loss, but the efforts of scientific men are discouraged by the difficulties and the small prospect of personal reward. The investigation must be national or International. “I feel sure," Prof. Perry concludes, “that if one or two chiefs like Lord Kelvin or Lord Rayleigh were entrusted with the expenditure of a million a year for two or three years, • * * with power to impress the services of ail scientific workers likely to be of use. • * • they would bring the inven tion within the reach of the ordinary engineer.” Panama Hat* Bring Penes. According to S. P. Bogran, son of the late President Bogras of Hondu ras, the republic is enjoying greater prosperity than for many years past simply because Panama hats are in fashion. Honduras and the State or Panama are the only two countries where Panama hats are made, and the revolution in Colombia haB kept peo ple in Panama too busy to be manu facturing hats. So Honduras has plenty of business in this line. The Honduras government has found the new industry so advanta geous that it is giving it every encour agement and extending special privi leges and exceptions from taxation to the factories manufacturing Panama hats. As long as the fashion keeps up Honduras wil be prosperous, says Mr. Bogran. and the prosperity thus as sured has done much to give the coun try peace. Attacks Darwin's Theory. Darwin's theory of the origin of man has been attacked by Mme. Ce line Renoof, a French scientist, in a lecture recently delivered before a woman's club in Paris she argued in a vastly plausible way that man is of vegetable origin and does not des cend from the monkey. The best way to win on a horse race Is to forget to take any money to the | poolroom with you.