Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 14, 1907)
BOB to JPTON , •f PLACER By gAMtALl PARRISH AUTHOR OBJ 'Hism/tMiffl. ~ SYNOPSIS. A detachment of the Eighteenth in fantry from I-'ort Bethutns trapped bv Indians in a narrow ''.-rgc A mong them is a stranger w* introduces himself by the name o£ flampton. also Gillis the post tr-,i _,rr, and his daughter. Gillis and “ •TijCrity 0f tJie soldiers are killed dur ing a three days' s ege. Hampton and the girl only escape from the Indians. They fall exhausted on the plains. A ■ -ompany of the Seventh cavalir, Lieut. Brent in command, flpd .Tampion 1 beg- fl *fc'.0p at (j,e M'ners' Home in GlegciUO Mrs. Duffy, proprietess. CHAPTER V.—Continued. There was no response, but the speaker moistened his lips and pro ceeded firmly. “It was that of a pro fessional gambler, utterly devoid of mercy toward his victims; a reckless fighter, who shot to kill upon the least provocation; a man without moral character, and from vruom any good action was impossible. That was what was said about you. is the tale true?” Hampton laughed unpleasantly, his eyes grown hard and ugly. “I presume it must be,” he admitted, k with a quick side glance toward the closed door, ‘ for the girl out yonder thought about the same. A most ex cellent reputation to establish with only ten years of strict attendance to business.” Wynkocp’s grave face expressed his disapproval. "Well, in my present judgment that report was not altogether true," he went on clearly and with greater con fidence. “I did suppose you exactly that sort of a man when I first came into this room. I have not believed so, however, for a single moment since. Nevertheless, the naked truth is certainly bad enough, without any necessity for our resorting to romance. You may deceive ethers by an assump lipn of recklessness, but I feel con vinced your true nature is not evil. It has been warped through some caus< which is none of my business. Let u deal alone with facts. You are a gam bier, a professional gambler, with ah that that implies; your life is, of neces sity, passed among the most vicious and degrading elements of mining camps, and you. do not hesitate even to take human life when in your judg ment it seems necessary to preserve your cwn. Under this veneer of law lessness you may, indeed, possess a warm heart, Mr. Hampton; you maj he a good fellow, but you are certain ly not a model character, even accord ing to the liberal code of the border.’ “Extremely kind of you to enter my rooms uninvited, and furnish me with this list of moral deficiencies,” ac knowledged the other with affected carelessness. ‘But thus far you have failed to tell me anything strikingly . new. Am I to understand you have some particular object in this ex change of amenities?” “Most assuredly. It is to ask if such a person as you practically confess yourself to be—homeless, associating only with the most despicable and vicious characters, and leading so un certain and disreputable a life—can be fit to assume charge of a girl, almost a woman, and mould her future?” For a long, breathless moment Hampton stared incredulously at his questioner, crushing his cigar between his teeth. Twice he started to speak, but literally choked back the bitter words burning his lips, while an un controllable admiration for the other’s boldness began to overcome his first fierce anger. “By God!" he exclaimed at last, ris ing to his feet and pointing toward the *'• door. “I have shot men for less. Go, before 1 forget your cloth. You little impudent fool! See here—I saved that girl from death, or worse; I plucked her from the very mouth of hell; I like her; she’s got sand; so far as 1 know there is not a single soul for her to turn to for help in all this wide world. And you. you miserable, snivelling hypocrite, you little creep ing Presbyterian parson, you want me to shake her! What sort of a wild beast do you suppose I am?” Wynkoop had taken one hasty step backward, impelled to it by the fierce anger blazing from those stem, gray eyes. But now he paused, and, for ttof oniy time on record, discovered *W' conventional language of polite so ciety inadequate to express his needs. “I think.” he said, scarcely realizing his own words, “you are a damned fool.” into Hampton’s eyes there leaped a light upon which other men had looked before they died,—the strange mad gleam one sometimes sees in fighting animals, or amid the fierce charges of war. His hand swept instinctively backward, closing upon the butt of a revolver beneath Lis coat, and for one second he who had dared such utter ance looked on death. Then the hard lines about the man’s mouth softened, the fingers clutching the weapon re laxed. and Hampton laid one opened hand upon the minister’s shrinking shoulder. “Sit down,” he said, his voice un steady from so sudden a reaction. “Perhaps—perhaps 1 don’t exactly un derstand.” For a full minuta they sat thus lock ing at each other through the fast dimming light, “he two prize-fighters meeting for the first time within the ring, and taking mental stock before beginning their physical argument. Hampton, with a touch of his old au dacity of manner, was first to break the silence. j6o yon think I am a damned, fool. WW. we are In pretty fair accord as to that fact, although no one before has ever ventured to state it quite so clearly In my psewnce. Perhaps you will kindly explain?” ■ ■ v The preacher wet his dry Ups with Us Mine, forget lias himself when i bis thoughts began to crystallize into expression. “I regret having spoken a3 I di<J,” i he began. ‘ Such language is n-jt my : custom. I was irritated because of your haste in rejecting mv advances before hearing the proposition I came to submit, i certainly respect your eyi&a*. GSsire to be of assistance to tms young woman, nor !'"v* 1 the slightest intention of interfering be- J tween you. Your act in preserving her life was truly a noble one, and your loyalty to her interests since is i worthy of all Christian praise. But I believe I have a right to ask, what do you intend for the future? Keep her with you? Drag her about from camp to camp? Educate her among the contaminating poison of gambling j holes and dance-halls? Is her home j hereafter to be the saloon and the! rough frontier hotel? Her ideal of1 ! manhood the quarrelsome gambler, j and of womanhood a painted harlot? I Mr. Hampton, you are evidently a man | of education, of early refinement; you | have known better things; and I have j | come to you seeking merely to aid you j ; in deciding this helpless young wom | an's destiny. I thought, I prayed, you ! would be at once interested in that I purpose, and would comprehend the reasonableness of my position.” Hampton sat silent, gazing out of j the window', his qy~s apnarcntly on j the lights now becoming dimly visible in the saloon opposite. For a consid | erable time he made no move, and the other straightened back in his chair watching him. “Well!" he ventured at last, “what is your proposition?" The question was quietly asked, but a slight tremor in the low voice told of repressed feel ing. “That, for the present at least, you fresh morning sunshine. Now they sat in silence, the young girl, with cheeks flushed and dreamy eyes aglow, gazed far off along the valley, the man watching her curiously, and won dering how best to approach his task. Observing her now, sitting thus in total unconsciousness of his scrutiny. Hampton made no attempt to analyze the depth of his interest for this waif who had come drifting into his life. Even to his somewhat prejudiced eyes she wa3 not an attractive crea ture, for she possessed no clear con ception of how to render apparent those few feminine charms she pos sessed. Negligence and total uncon sciousness of self, coupled with lack of womanly companionship and guid ance, had left her altogether in the rough. He marked now the coarse ragged shoes, the cheap patched skirt., the tousled auburn hair, the sunburnt checks with a suggestion of freckles plainly visible beneath the eyes, and some of the- fastidiousness of early days caused him to shrug his shoul ders. Yet underneath the tan there was the glow of perfect young health; the eyes were frank, brave, ur”,acb. mg; while the roi,*uea chin held a world of character in its firm con tour. sight of this brought back to him that abiding faith in her “dead gameness” which had first awakened his admiration. “Kid,” he ventured at last, “you were talking while we came up the trail about how we'd do this and that after awhile. You don't suppose I'm going to have any useless girl like you hanging around on to me, dQ you?” She glanced quickly about at him, as though such unexpected expressions startled her from a pleasant reverie. “Why, I—I thought that was the way you planned it yesterday,” she ex claimed, doubtfully. “Oh, yesterday! Well, you see, yes terday I was sort of dreaming; to-day I am wide awake, and I've about de cided, Kid, that for your own good, and my comfort, I've got to shake you.” A sudden gleam cf fierce resentment leaped into the dark eyes, the un restrained glow of a passion which had never known control. “Oh, you have, have you, Mr. Bob Hampton? You have about decided! Well, why don't you altogether decide? I don’t think I'm down on my knees begging you for mercy. Good Lord! I reck on I can get along all right without you—I did before. Just what hap pened to give you such a change of heart?” “I made the sudden discovery," he ^ . "I Have Shot Men for Less. Go, Before I Forget Yau* confide this girl into the care of some worthy woman.” "Have you any such in mind?” “I have already discussed the mat ter briefly with Mrs. Herndon, wife of the superintendent of the Golden Rule mines. She is a refined Christian lady, beyond doubt the most proper person to assume such a charge in this camp.” Hampton flung his sodden cigar butt I out of the window. “I’ll talk it over | to-morrow with—with Miss Gillis,” he I said, somewhat gruffly. “It may be this means a good deal more to me I than you suppose, parson, but I’m | bound to acknowledge there is consld i erable hard sense in what you have just said, and I'll talk it over with the girl.” Wynkoop held out his hand cordial ly and the firm grasp of the other closed over his fingers. "I don’t exactly know why I didn’t kick you downstairs,” the latter com mented, as though still in wonder at j himself. “Never remember being quite ! so considerate before, but I reckon you must have come at me in about | the right way.” If Wynkoop answered, his words ! were indistinguishable, but Hampton i remained standing in the open door watching the missionary go down the narrow stairs. “Nervy little devil,” he acknowl edged slowly to himself. “And maybe, after all, that would be the best thing for the Kid.” CHAPTER VI. “To Ee or Not to Be.” They were seated rather close togeth er upon the steep hillside, gazing silent ly down upon squalid Glencaid. At such considerable distance all the dull sb’b biness of (he mining town had disap peared, r.r.d tt seemed almost ideal, viewed against the natural background of brown rocks and green trees. Every where was loneliness, no sound telling of the labor of man reached them, and the few scattered buildings far below resembling mere doll-houses. They had conversed only upon the constantly changing beauty of the ' scene, or of incidents connected with their upward climb, while moving slowly along the trail Jhwngh the said, affecting a harness he was far from feeling, “t«« yqu were too near being a young «.*oman to go traipsing around the country with me, living at shacks, and having no company but gambling sharks, and that class of cattle.” ”Oh, did you? What else?” “Only that our tempers don't ex actly seem to jibe, and the two of us can't be bosses in the same ranch.” She looked at him contemptuously, swinging her body farther around on the rock, and sitting stiffly, the* color on her cheeks deepening through the sunburn. “Now see here, Mister Bob Hampton, you’re a fraud, and you know it! Didn't I understand exact ly who you was, and what was your business? Didn't I know you was a gambler, and a 'bad man?’ Didn’t I teli you plain enough out yonder”— and her voice faltered slightly—“just what 1 thought about you? Good Lord! I haven't been begging to stick with you, have I? I just didn't know which way to turn to, after dad waa killed, and you sorter hung on to me, and I let it go the way 1 supposed you v,-anted It. But I’m not particularly stuck on your style, let me tell you, and I recken there's plenty of ways for me to get alcng. Only first, I pro-, pose to understand what your little game is. You don’t throw down your hand like that without some reason." \ Hampton sat up, spurred into in stant admiration by such independ ence of spirit. "You grow rather good looking, Kid. when you get hot, but you go at things half-cocked, and you've got to get* over it. That's th.$ whole trouble—you’ve nevep - been trained, and I wouldn’t make much of a trainer for a bigh-airung filly like you. Ever remember ycur mother?” "Mighty little; reckon shy mart linve -lied wbrn I was about five years old. That’s her picture." Hampton tuck in his hand the old fashioned locket she held out toward him, the long chain st’ll clasped about her throat, and pried open the catch wc’s knife blade. P’je bent down to fasten her loosened shoe, and when her eyes were uplifted his gaze was riveted upon the face in thg picture. “Mighty pretty, wasn't she?” she as.ced, w.th a sudden girlish interest, bending forward to look, regardless of liis strained altitude. "And she was prettier than that, even, the way I remember her best, with her hair all hanging down, coming to tuck me into bed at night. Someway that’s how 1 always seem to see her.” The man drew a deep breath, and snapped shut the locket, yet still re la.ned it in his hand. “Is—is she dead? he Questioned, and his voice trembled in spite of his steel nerves. “Yes, in St. Louis; dad took me there with him two years ago, and I | saw her grave." j ‘‘Dad? Do yon mean old Gillis?" She nodded, beginning dimiy to won-' der why he should spealt so fiercely and stare at her in that odd way. Ha seemed to choke twice before }. ? could ask the next question. “E'id he—old Gillis, I mean—clftfm to be your father, or her husband?” "No, I don't reckon he ever did. but he gave me that picture, and told me she was my mother. I always lived with ihim. and called him dad. I reck on he liked it, and he was mighty good to me. We were at Randolph a long time, and since then he's been post-trader at Bethune. That's all I know about it, for dad never talked very much, and he used to get mad when I asked him questions.” Hampton dropped the locket from his grasp and arose to his feet. For several minutes he stood with his back toward her, apparently gazing down the valley, his jaw set, his dim med eyes seeing nothing. Slowly the color came creeping into his face, and his hands unclinched. Then he wheel ed about, and looked down upon her, completely restored to his old na ture. “Then it seems that it is just you and I, Kid, who have got to settle this little affair." he announced, firmly. “I'll have my say about it, and then you can uncork your feelings. I rath er imagine I haven’t very much legal right in the premises, but I've got a sort of moral grip on you by reason of having pulled you out alive from that canyon yonder, and I propose to play this game to the limit. You say your mother is dead, and the man who raised you is dead, and, so far as eith er of us know, there isn't a soul any where on earth who possesses any claim over you, or any desire to have. Then, naturally, the whole jack-pot is up to me, provided I've got the cards. Now. Kid, waving your prejudice aside. I ain’t just exactly the best man in this world to bring up a girl like you and make a lady out of her. I thought yesterday that maybe we might man age to hitch along together for awhile, but I’ve got a different think coming to-day. There's no use dis figuring the truth. I'm a gambler, something of a fighter on the side, and folks don't say anything too pleasing about my peaceful disposition around these settlements; I haven’t any home, and mighty few friends, and the few I have got are nothing to boast about. I reckon there's a cause for it all. So, considering everything, I’m about the poorest proposition ever was heard of to start a young ladies’ seminary. The Lord knows, old Gillis was bad enough, but I'm a damned sight worse. Now, some woman has got to take you in hand, and I reckon I've found the right one.” "Goin' to get married. Bob?” "Not this year; it’s hardly become so serious as that; but I'm going to find you a good home here, and I'm going to put up plenty of stuff, so that they’ll take care of you all right and proper.” The dark eyes never wavered as they looked steadily into the gray ones, but the chin quivered slightly. (TO BE CONTINUED.! Need Awakening. Though men are accused of not knowing their weakness, yet perhaps a few know their own strength. It is in men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of gold, which the owner knows not of.—Swift. No Sentiment in Business. Some Old-Fashioned Ideas of Trading Have Passed On. “Times have changed.” said an old grocer on Kansas avenue, the West side. “Buyers get their groceries, meats and merchandise where they believe they can get the most for their money. Of course, quality as well as quantity is considered. Twen ty years ago it was different. Mer chants often were patronized because they were of a particular nationality or creed. Sometimes it was on ac count of their political beHet Thee Qag* wara^tbose who had the notion I eral years gave the most for the money. I remember a man who had just moved into the neighborhood, came into my place of business sev eral years ago. He asked me about my nationality. I told him. He walked out cf the store and never re turned. But; it's different now. Re ligion, nationality iind politics are for gotten. Honest bargains and honest methods are Bought And it is bet ter for the buyer and merchant— —mbwmm DISH FOR TEA OR SUPPER. Simpte Refreshment Menu That Is , Easy to Prepare. A ball of cream of chicken salad served with nut sandwiches and a glass of lemon scuash, make a de i lightful tea or supper dish. Olives and salted peanuts may be passed. To make the cream of chicken salad, chop the chicken very fine. Add to each half pint one-half pint of cream sauce and two tablespoonfuls of gelatine that has been soaked in four tablespoonfuls of cold water for 8n hour. Mix the ingredients together hot. season nicely and turn into a ehallow pan to cool. When cold fo’ ‘into balls the size of F-_" * _ . .. . bp walnuts. ^ Pu, ,n4 ..c r these balls on a nest of i.t.uco lecres, put cut teaspoonful of mayonnaise in the middle and the.. are ready to serve. toasted unsalted al for sandwiches. After they -iave been chopped fine sprinkle them thickly between thin slices of bread and butter, press together and cut in any fancy shapes desired. The lemon squash may be made the day before. Grate the yellow rind of three lemons and add two pounds of sugar to one quart of water; boil for five minutes and strain. Add the juice of 12 lemons and strain again. At serving time dilute this with Apolli naris water, making the lemon squash sufficiently cool to be palatable.— Woman's Home Companion. BETTER THAN CAN BE BOUGHT. Handkerchiefs Made at Home Are Dainty and Economical. Some handkerchiefs which are pret ty and dainty are fascinating to make and at the same time are economical. One yard and a quarter °f 45-inch wide handkerchief linen will make nine men's handkerchiefs of the correct size. Twelve women’s handkerchiefs may be made from a yard and a quarter of 32-inch wide linen at one dollar or $1.50 a yard. After the linen is cut into squares for the handkerchiefs each corner is slightly curved to form a curved in stead of a square corner. The edges are then rolled and whipped over with colored wash file thread. The stitches take in only the depth of the roll. After the handkerchief is all whipped, turn back and whip in the same way, the return stitches between those done the first time. This crosses the threads and produces a charming cross-sticth effect. A small initial should be worked in the corner in the same color thread. These handker chiefs are odd an i unique, and still are much in vogue, as ail the smart handkerchiefs have a touch of color somewhere. Baked Potato for Invalid. For economy in the sickroom pre pare baked potatoes by washing and drying them thoroughly; lay them on the asbestos bread toaster, and cover them closely with a small granite pan; turn the fire on only half way, turn the potatoes over occasionally, and in an hour, when they should be done, spread a napkin over the hand; place a potato in the center, and. holding the napkin closely around it with the po tato like a bail on the top of the hapd, pat it gently all over, roll it out on a plate, open the jacket, season with butter, pepper and salt, and, if liked, a tablespoonful of cream, and you have a potato mashed as fine as in the ordinary way, only a more deli cious and tempting as well as a more easily digested dainty for the sick one. Imitation Canton Ginger. Take young carrots, scrape care fully, cut in pieces the size of the West Indian preserved ginger; par boil gently to keep from breaking, drain carefully, let lie on sieve all night. The next day weigh, put equal parts of sugar with tablespoon of es sence of ginger, the yellow rind of one half a lemon, and one-fourth pint of water to each pound of carrots: sim mer gently four hours, then lift the pieces out carefully, put in small jars, removing the lemon peel; boil the sirup quickly for ten minutes, adft a wine glass of brandy to a pint; when cold seal same as jelly and keep in a cool place. Breakfast Food Variety. _ When other breakfast foods tire toast slices of bread, crumble fine and eat with cream and sugar. This is de licious and nourishing. For a cold night one can make de licious hot chocolate by melting in a little hot water a cake of sweet cho colate and adding milk. This takes only a few minutes and is always of the right sweetness. *——— --— ] Bath Bags. Four pounds of fine oatmeal, two quarts of clean bran, one and one-half pounds of powdered orris root, one and one-half pounds of almond meal, one pound of powdered white castile soap, three ounces of primrose sachet powder. Keep in glass jars, filling little cheesecloth bags a3 needed. Leaves the skin soft, clear and vel vety. Cement for Glass. Add one pint of vinegar to one pint of milk and separate the curds from j the whey. Mix the whey with the whites of five eggs. Beat it thorough ly together and sift into it a sufficient quantity of unslacked lime to convert it into a thick paste. Broken glass or china mended with this cement will not break again and will resist the ac tion of fire and water. Sugar Ginger Wafers. Three-fourths cup butter, creamed with two cups white sugar, one cup milk, four cups sifted flour, three quarters teaspoon soda dissolved in a little boiling water, one tablespoon ginger. Spread the mixture very thin on bottom of pans, well washed and greased. Use a flat knife. Bake in moderate oven till light brown. Cut while hot and slip from pan. His Great Idea. Gilbert, the small son of a minister, waa one day trying to construct a church with his buiMIsg blocks, hut With the coming of fall the brid has again made her appearance in ail her loveliness, and there is a fresh array of new and beautiful frocks in the contemplation of which women never tire. Satin sometimes veiled with lace is at the moment the favor ite wedding robe, although the robe of one fashionable bride of the east was made of a superb panne velvet trimmed with old family point lace and a large lace shawl veil added to the richness of the costume. Of cours* it takes either a tall or a full flgj-e to properly carry such rich materia'*, and the petite or thin bride would do well to wear a chiffon or other filmy gown and a tulle veil. Such frocks can be exquisitely embroidered and be quite as beautiful and far more suita ble for the thin or short girl than vel vet No matter how simple the bridal gown Itself may be, there is s large field of choice in the matter of the at tendants' frocks, and a party of brides maids msy be gowned in different col ors or shades of the same color, or if a matron of honor or a maid of honor, or both, are added to bridesmaids, there is s still grester chance te dis play artistic taste and originality. If there is te be extreme simplicity in the wedding gowns, then s house wedding or a small church would seem the proper thing; but if a large church wedding, with a long Invitation list in cluded in the program, then let there be ss novel and beautiful garment* and other accessories to the pageant as la consistent with good taste—and a lot more is consistent than the hide bound lover of the commonplace is usually willing to admit. The French adhere strictly to the jeuna fill* idea la dressing their brides, the simplest frocks and usually tulle veils, but their girl brides sre quite different from ours, and so is the whole social scheme. It behooves the American woman to exercise her originality in the matter of dress, if she have it, and not only to'select the best of the English and continental fashions, but to add touches of her own and add originality to the scheme or to evolve new designs. But other apparel must be consid ered besides the bridal outfitting* and we must needs turn to the tailor-made costumes. As a general statement we would say that the skirts are shorter and the eoata are longer, although with the long coat a short skirt does not look well. The skirt that just touches the ground is permissible, and long princess coats in cloth are made just above the ankles. Then on the other hand the half-length coat is equally popular. Checks are popular, and are used extensively by leading tailors in rather somber mixtures that lend themselves admirably to the braiding which is such a marked feature of the Viennese tailor-made. Another delightful trimming, and xne that is gladly welcomed with the first touch of autumn, is velvet. Vel vet collars are used even on riding xabits, and some of the smartest cloth dresses are strapped with it. The coming of autumn has brought with it a revival of satin trimmed with cloth, and very noticeable in a crowd is an evening gown of copper-colored satin trimmed with gold and shaded embroideries, with an introduction of real lace at the deco age and long lace sleeves. I am quite certain that sleeves will change very much in evening dress, and their importance cannot be over estimated, for upon them very o.tea depends the success of a frock. The picture-sleeve is always pretty In the picture frock for country house wear, but the best dinner gowns show but l*ttle sleeve. I think one of the most becoming sleeves is the trelliswork of chenille, studded, perhaps, with jet, and edged with a fringe. The shape of the arm is very often ruined by an ill fitting sleeve. The manipulation of the sleeve, therefore, should receive most careful attention. No woman looks well dressed unless she knows how to put oa her elothes; the best dress maker in the world cannot invest the j wearer with the meaning of the gowa. As to hate, I should like to point out one or two important changes which have taken place in the millinery world since last season. We have completely done away with hat brims which are longer at the back than the front, and we no longer hide the back of our necks! Cloche hats—even those in mushroom form—are still very fashionable, but they are no longer exaggerated in outline and they are worn on the head. And then we are becoming very enthusiastic over the Design for an Evening Gown. cavalier hat, turned up at one side and trimmed with handsome feathers or with immense clusters of flowers. Black taffeta hats bound with black ■ilk braid are possessed of much charm. fIn this connection the braid is always wide and rather coarse in tex ture; it forms an important binding for the cloche brim and is the best of taste with tailor-made costumes. A MATTER OF FORM.