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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (May 14, 1914)
The Hollow * ♦ ♦ *> ♦ of Her Hand ^Georgfe Barr M°Cutcheon copyw&rr /9/2 or C£orgFoakx *ncu7a/fon: coprmc/fz, /9/2 sypodd, ff£AD &» coMm/ty •vMomh ___ ''*•*"•* W'rsadail » found murdered In ► <*a M*r Ym York Mr* (fit dais tm > m»i u* fr -m the city to Identify lfc» »«.;« Wrutai! it appear., had W • #»' - ■ pad nolet.l h» wife CMAPTIB I Cortiwued. “1 tn M an pure of It." said the Mf shaking hla head “I have a feel tag ippt she mat one of the ordi nnry type h wouldn't surprise me if •he belong* to well, you might say the upper tea Somebody * wife, don't >®a •*» That will make it rather ilf •mil. especially as her tracks have hee* pretty well covered ' ~H heats me. how she got away « 'Jaw testing a single sign behind her.“ acknowledged the sheriff Shea a wonder that * all I ve get u> nay." hi that instant the door opened and Mrs WraadaJ! appeared She stopped short, confronting the huddled group, dry eyed but as psiltd as a ghost Her eyes were wide, apparently unseeing; her rwSotieos Lips were parted la the draw* rigidity that suggested but one thing ta the pmfi—lina. man who Woks the * rats sardonic us of the otryrhaao victim With a low cry. (he dart nr started forward fully con rises* that she had ssallowed the duodly drag j Tor God s sake, madam.' he began. B« as be spoke her expression changed. she seemed to be aware of I Cbesr presence for the first time. Her epos narrowed in a curious manner end the rigid bps seemed to surge ■nth Mood, presenting the effect of a gseer. swift lading omtie that lingered Wag after her face was set and serl *1 neglected to raise the window. Dr ffheef.- she said la a low voice. "It was very cold la there " She shivered slightly. Til! you be so kind as t© ! tell me shat I am to do now? What ; formalities remain for me— Th«* coroner was at her side. "Time eaobgt for that. Mr* U raudall The ! fiaat thing you are to do Is to take something warm to drink, and pull i yourself together a bit —“ dhr drew bemetf up coldly. "1 am •wife myself. t*r Sbeef Pray do not ; alarm yourself on my account 1 shall be obliged to you. however If you w it! ! ■ed see what 1 am to do as speedily at »o**ib!<t, and let me do It ao that I ■my leave this this unhappy place wwhoat delay No! t mean It. sir I am going fought—unless, of course.- , •be said, with a «*ick look at the aher iff. tbs law stands W «bo way." "Tm are at liberty to come and g© a* yoa please. Mrs W modal i. said the sheriff "but it la most foolhardy to think of_” Thaak you. Ur. Sheriff" she said •for hcuag tar go I though: perhaps , there might be legal rootmm " She 1 •eel a Mift glance ever her shoulder | and thoa spoke la a high shrill voice j Indicative ©f extreme dread aad uneas 1 "does the door to that room'" The dour mas standing aide open 3mm os she had ieft it Startled, the coroner's deputy sprang forward to dooe tt Involuntarily all of her lis tener* Poked is the direction of the room as if expecting to see tbe ferai mt the murdered man ad'anting upon 1 them The feeling, swiftly gone, was musst war-out j. from the Inside." com . ... .with uamistalts- : hie emphasis The man hesitated, and < the* did as he was ord-red. but not without a carious look at the wife of ; the dead man, whose bark was toward him. j > He will not find anything disturbed, doctor, said she divining his thought | *1 had the feeling that something was creeping toward us oat of that room.' "Tou haw* every reason U> be nerv- . mo u-edam. The situation has been moot extra.urd.il ar)—most trying." •aid the coroner “I beg of you to 1 (*m downstairs, where we may at- | tend to a feo necessary details with out Vh»f It has been a most la ugu-ag matter tor all of us. Hours without sleep aad such wretched weather " They d tor ended to the warm little moeptivn room She sent at once for the im keeper who came in and glow 1 at her as If she • ere wholly re for tbs Might that had been put upon his place ~U ill you he good enough u> send to the station »<■: demanded Ho olarod "v* • don't run a bus fin the winter time." he said, grotty. the opened the little chatelaine hag Chat hang from ner wrist and abstract ad a card which abe submitted to the "You win find Doctor Sbeef. that the car my Uoshaad came up here in be longs to me This is the card issued by the state It is la my name Tbe factory number is there. You may com pi re it with the one on the car Ml husband took tbs car without oh laming my consent ’ "Joy tiding said Barton, with an egly laugh Then he quailed before che look she guvs him. "If no other means is offered. Doc tor Sheet. I ahull ask you to let me Cake tho car 1 am perfectly capable mt driving • have driven it in the country for two seasons. All I ask is ghat some ace be directed to go with tms to the station So' Better than ■hot, if there la some one here who is willing to V ms to tbs city, be shall be Jy paid for goiag It M hut little mere than tfi miles I pufuss to speed the night in this bouse That la iinal." They drew apart to confer, leaving bar cuing before the fire, a stark fig sr« thmi seemed to detach Itself en Croly from Its surroundings and their EAt last the coroner ie and touched her arm. -1 don't know what the district at torney and the polk* will say to tt. Mr* Wraadatt. but I shall take tt upon M)»eU to deliver the car to you. The sheriff has gone out to compare the numbers If he finds that the car is yours, he will see to it, with Mr. lirake. that it Is made ready for you 1 take it that we will have no difficulty m—" He hesitated, at a loss for words. “In finding It again in case you need It for evidence?” she supplied. He nodded I shall make it a point. Doc tor Sheer, to present the car to the state after it has served my purpose tonight 1 shall not ride in it again.” “The sheriff has a man who will ride with you to the station or the city whichever you may elect. Now. may 1 trouble you to make answer to eer'iin questions I shall write out for you at once? The man is Cballis Wrandail. your husband? You are positive?" "! am positive. He is—or was— Chaliis W randall " Half an hour later she was ready for the trip to New York city. The clock in the office marked the hour as one. A toddled Individual In a great buffa lo coat waited for her outside, hic coughing and bandying jest with the half-frozen men who had spent the cignt with him in the forlorn hope of finding the girl. Mrs \\ randall gave final lnstruc ' lions to the coroner and his deputy, who happened to be the undertaker's aas.atant. She had answered all the questions that bad been put to her. and had signed the document with a ; firm, untrembling hand. Her veil had been lowered since the beginning of the examination They did not see her face they only heard the calm, low voice, sweet with fatigue and dread. "I shall notify my brother-in-law as soon as I reach the city," she said. lie will attend to everything. Mr. l^viie W randall. I mean. My hus band s only brother. He will be here in the morning. Doctor Sheef. My own apartment Is not open. I have been laying in a hotel since my return from Europe two days ago. But I shall attend to the opening of the p:ace tomorrow You will find me . there." The coroner hesitated a moment be ta putting the question that had come to his mind as she spoke. Two days ago. madam' May I in quire where your husband has been living during your absence abroad? When did you last see him alive?" She did not reply for many sec ! onds and then it was with a percepti ble effort "I have not seen him since my re turn until—tonight." she replied, a noarse note creeping into her voice. 'He did not meet me on my return. Hu brother Leslie came to the dock. : He—he said that Chaliis, who enme back from Europe two weeks ahead 1 of me. had been called to St. Louis on ' very Important business. My husband . bad been living at his club. I under stand That Is all I can tell you. sir." "I see." said the coroner, gently. He opened the door for her and she passed out. A number of men were grouped about the throbbing motor car They fell away as she ap proached. silently fading into the shadows like so many vast, unwhole some ghosts The sheriff and Drake came forward. "This man will go with you, ma dam." said the sheriff, pointing to an unsteady figure beside the machine. He is the only one who will under take it They're all played out, you see. He lias been drinking, but only i oc account of the hardships he has undergone tonight. You will be quite safe with Morley." No snow was falling, but a bleak wind blew meanly. The air was free from particles of sleet; wetly the fall of the night clung to the earth where it had fallen. "If he will guide me to the Post road. that Is all I ask," said she hur riedly. Involuntarily she glanced up “This Man Will Go With You, Madam,” Said the Sheriff. sard. The curtains in an upstairs i window were blowing inward and a dim light shone out upon the roof of I the porch. She shuddered and then climbed up to the seat and took her place at the wheel. A few moments later the three men standing In the middle of the road watched the car as It rushed away. "By George, she's a wonder!” said the sheriff. — CHAPTER II. The Passing of a Night. The sheriff was right Sara Wran dall was an extraordinary woman, if I may be permitted to modify bis rath er crude estimate of her. It is difficult to understand, much less describe a nature like hers. Fine-minded, gently bred women who can go through an ordeal 6uch as she experienced with out breaking under the strain are rare indeed. They must be wonderfuL It i Is hard to imagine a more heart-break t tag crisis in life than the one which] confronted her on this dreadful night, and yet she faced it with a fortitude that seems almost unholy. She had loved her handsome, way ward husband. He had hurt her deep ly more times than she chose to re member during the six years of their married life, but she had loved him in spite of the wounds up to the in stant when she stood beside his dead body in the cold little room at Bur ton's inn. She went there loving him as he had lived, yet prepared, almost foresworn, to loathe him as he had died, and she left him lying there alone in that dreary room without a spark of the old affection in her soul. Her love for him died in giving birth to the hatred that now possessed her. While he lived it was not in her pow er to control the unreasoning, resist less thing that stands for love in wom an; he was her lover, the master of her impulses. Dead, he was an un wholesome. unlovely clod, a pallid thing to be scorned, a hulk of worth less clay. His blood was cold. He could no longer warm her with it; it could no longer kill the chill that his misdeeds cast about her tender sensi tiveness; his lips and eyes never more could smile and conquer. He was a dead thing. Her love was a dead thing. They lay separate and apart. The tie was broken. With love died the final spark of respect she had left for him in her tired, loyal, betrayed heart. He was at last a thing to be despised, even by her. She despised him. She sent the car down the slope and across the moonless valley with small regard for her own or her compan ion's safety. It swerved from side to side, skidded and leaped with terri fying suddenness, but held its way as straight as the bft-d that flies, driven by a steady hand and a mind that had no thought for peril. A sober man at her side would have been afraid; this man swayed mildly to and fro and chuckled with drunken glee. Her bitter thoughts were not of the dead man back there, but of the live years that she was to bury with him; years that would never pass beyond her ken, that would never die. He had loved her in his wild, ruthless way. He bad left her times without number in the years gone by. but he had always come back, gaily unchas tened. to remold the love that waited with dog-like fidelity for the touch of his cunning hand. But he had taken his last flight. He would not come back again. It was all over. Once too often he had tried his reckless wings. She would not have to forgive him again. I'ppermost in her mind was the curiously restful thought that his troubles were over, and with them her own. A hand lees forgiving than hers had struck him dead. Somehow, she envied the woman to whom that hand belonged. It had been her divine right to kill, and yet another took it from her. Back there at the inn she had said to the astonished sheriff: “Poor thing, if she can escape pun ishment for this. let it be so. I shall not help the law to kill her simply because she took it in her own hands to pay that man what she owed him. I shall cot be the one to say that he did not deserve death at her hands, whoever she may be. No, I shall offer no reward. If you catch her, I shall be sorry for her. Mr. Sheriff. Believe me. 1 bear her no grudge.” “But she robbed him," the sheriff had cried. “Prom my point of view, Mr. Sher iff. that hasn't anything to do with the case,” was her significant reply. “Of course, I am not defending him." “Nor am I defending her," she had retorted. "It would appear that she is able to defend herself.” Now, on the cold, trackless road, she was saying to herself that she did have a grudge against the woman who had destroyed the life that be longed to her, who 'had killed the thlnt that was hers to kill. She could not ®ourn for him. She could only wonder what the poor, hunted, ter rified creature would do when taken and made to pay for the thing she had done. unce. in the course of her bitter re flections, she spoke aloud in a shrill, tense voice, forgetful of the presence of the man beside her: “Thank God they will see him now as I have seen him all these years. They will know him as they hare never known him. Thank God for that!” The man looked at her stupidly and muttered something under his breath. She heard him, and recalling her wits, asked which turn she was to take for the station. The fellow lopped back in the seat, too drunk to reply. For a moment she was dismayed, frightened. Then she resolutely reached out and shook him by the shoulder. She had brought the car to a full stop. “Arouse yourself, man!” she cried. "Do you want to freeze to death? Where is the station?” He straightened up with an effort, and, after vainly seeking light in the darkness, fell back again with a grunt, but managed to wave his hand toward the left. She took the chance. In five minutes she brought the car to a standstill beside the station. Through the window she saw a man with his feet cocked high, reading. He leaped to his feet in amazement as she en tered the waiting-room. “Are you the agent?” she demanded. "No, ma’am. I’m simply staying here for the sheriff. We’re looking for a woman—say!” He stopped short and stared at the veiled face with wide, excited eyes. “Gee whiz! May be you—” “No, I am ribt the woman yon want Do yon know anything about the trains?" ”1 guess ru telephone to the sheriff before 1—•’’ “If you will step outside you will find one of the sheriff’s deputies in my automobile, helplessly intoxicated. I am Mrs. Wrandall." _ “Oh,” he gasped. "I heard 'em say you were coming up tonight. Well, say! What do you think of—” “In there a train in before morning?” “No, ma'am. Seven-forty is the first.” She waited a moment. “Then I shall have to ask you to come out and get your fellow-deputy. He is useless to me. I mean to go on in the machine. The sheriff understands.” The fellow hesitated. “I cannot take him with me, and he will freeze to death if I leave him in the road. Will you come?” The man stared at her. "Say, is It your husband?” he asked agape. She nodded her head. “Well. I'll go out and have a look at the fellow you've got with you,” he said, still doubtful. She stood In the door while he She Knew—This Was the Woman. crossed over to the car and peered at the face of the sleeper. “Steve Morley." he said. “Fuller'n a goat.” “Please remove him from the car,” she directed. Later on. as he stood looking down at the inert figure in the big rocking chair, and panting from his labors, he heard her say patiently: “And now will you be so good as to direct me to the Post-road." He scratched his head. "This is mighty queer, the whole business." he declared, assailed by doubts. “Sup pose you are not Mrs. Wrandall. bat —the other one. What then?" As if in answer to his question, the man Morley opened his blear-eyes and tried to get to his feet. "What—what are we doin' here. Mis' Wran all? Wha's up?” “Stay where you are. Steve." said ; the other. “It's all right." Then he went forth and pointed the way to her. “It's a long ways to Columbus Circle," he said. "I don't envy you the trip. Keep straight ahead after you hit the Post-road.” He stood there listening until the whir of the motor was lost in the distance. “She'll never make it,” he said to himself. “It's more than a strong man could do on roads like these. She must be crazy.” Coming to the Post-road, she in creased the speed of the car, with the sharp wind behind her, her eyes In tent on the white stretch that leaped up In front of the lamps like a blank wall beyond which there was nothing but dense oblivion. But for the fact that she knew that this road ran straight and unobstructed into the out skirts of New York, she might have lost courage and decision. The natural confidence of an .experienced driver was hers. She had the daring of one who has never met with an accident, and who trusts to the instincts rather than to an actual understanding of conditions. With her, it was not a question of her own capacity' and strength, but a belief in the fidelity of the engine that carried her forward. It had not occurred to her that the task of guiding that heavy, swerving thing through the unbroken road was ■ something beyond her powers of en durance. She often had driven it a hundred miles and more without rest ing. or without losing zest in the en terprise; then why should she fear the small matter of 30 miles, even un der the most trying of conditions? Sharply there came to her mind the question: was she the only one abroad In this black little world? What of the other woman? The one who was being hunted? Where was she? And what of the ghost at her heels? The car bounded over a railroad crossing. She recalled the directions given by the man at the station and hastily applied the brake. There was another and more dangerous crossing a hundred yards ahead. She had been warned particularly to take It care fully, as there was a sharp curve in the road beyond. Suddenly she Jammed down the emergency brake, a startled exclama tion falling from her lips. Not 20 feet ahead, in the middle of the road and directly in line with the light of the lamps, stood a black, motionless figure—the figure of a woman whose head was lowered and whose arms hnng limply at her sides. The woman In the car bent forward over the wheel, staring hard. Many seconds passed. At last the forlorn object In the roadway lifted her face and looked vacantly Into the glare of the lamps. Her eyes were wide-open, her face a ghastly white. “God in heaven!" struggled from the stiffening lips of Sara Wrandall. Her fingers tightened on the wheel. She knew. This was the woman! The long brown ulster; the limp, fluttering veil? “A woman about your . size and figure,” the sheriff had said. _ - fk si. ' - V The figure swayed and then moved a few steps forward. Blinded by the lights, she bent her head and shielded her eyes with her hand the better to glimpse the occupant of the car. "Are you looking for me?" she cried out shrilly, at the same time spread ing her arms as if in surrender. It was almost a wail. Mrs. Wrandail caught her breath. Her heart began to beat once more. "Who are you? What do you want?” she cried out, without knowing what she said. The girl started. She had not ex pected to hear the voice of a woman. She staggered to the side of the road, out of the line of light. "I—I beg your pardon,” she cried— it was like a wail of disappointment— “I am sorry to have stopped you.” “Come here,” commanded the other, still staring. The unsteady figure advanced. Halt ing beside the car, she leaned across the spare tires and gazed Into the eyes of the driver. Their faces were not more than a foot apart, their eyes were narrowed in tense scrutiny. “What do you want?" repeated Mrs. Wrandail, her voice hoarse and trem ulous. “I am looking for an inn. It must be near by. I do—” “An inn?” with a start. “I do not recall the name. It is not far from a village, in the hills.” “Do you mean Burton’s?" “Yes. That's it. Can you direct me?” The voice of the girl was faint; she seemed about to fall. "It is six or eight miles from here.” said Mrs. WTrandall. still looking in wonder at the miserable night-farer. The girl's head sank; a moan of de- , spair came through her lips, ending in a BOD. ‘‘So far as that?" she murmured. Then she drew herself up with a fine show of resolution. “But I must apt stop here. Thank you." “Wait!" cried the other. The girl turned to her once more. “Is—is it a matter of life or death?" There was a long silence. “Yes. I must find my way there. It is—death.” Sara Wrandall laid her heavily gloved hand on the slim fingers that touched the tire. “Listen to me,” she said, a shrill note of resolve ringing in her voice. “I am going to New York. Won't you let me take you with me?” The girl drew back, wonder and ap prehension struggling for the mastery of her eyes. “Bat I am bound the other way. To the inn. I must go on.” “Come with me." said Sara Wrandall firmly. “You must not go back there. I know what has happened there. Come! I will take care of you. You must not go to the inn." “You know?" faltered the girl. “Yes. You poor thing!" There was infinite pity in her voice. The -irl laid her head on her arms. ; llrs. Wrandall sat above her, look ing down, held mute by warring emo tions. The impossible had come to ! pass. The girl for whom the whole world would be searching in a day or two. had stepped out of the unknown and, by the most whimsical jest of j fate, into the custody of the one per son most interested of all in that self same world. It was unbelievable. She wondered if it were not a dream, or the hallucination of an overwrought mind. Spurred by the sudden doubt a- to the reality of the object before i her, 6he stretched out her hand and touched the girl's shoulder. Instantly she looked up. Her fin gers sought the friendly hand and clasped it tightly. “Oh. if you will only take me to the city with you! If you only give me j the chance,” she cried hoarsely. “I don't know what Impulse was driv- i ing me back there. 1 only know I j could not help myself. You really WITH THE BREAK OF DAWN Birth of a New Day as Seen and De scribed by One Who Had the Vision of the Poet. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible, the intense blue of the sky began to soften, the smaller stars, like little children, went flret to rest; the 6ister beams of the Pleiades soon melted together, but the bright constellations of the west and north remained- un changed. Steadily the wondrous trans figuration went on. Hands of angels hidden from mortal eyes shifted the scenery of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved Into the glories of the dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the great watch stars shut up their holy eyes; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky; the celestial conclave was filled with the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above in one great ocean of radiance, till at length, as we reached the Blue hilta. a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon and turned the dewy teardrops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few sec onds the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his state.—Everett National Pride. The belief that all foreigners are Inferior to one's <^n people is not pe culiar to the so-called civilized na tions. Professor Sumner of Tale used to call this national egotism “ethnocentrism," and cited an instance of it from a message sent south by a native Greenlander, extolling his land and its inhabitants as greatly su perior to the countries and races of white men. In the Journal of Re ligious Psychology the anthropologist Cr&ntz is quoted as saying: “The Greenlanders consider them selves as the only civilized nation In the world. They are far superior in their own estimation to the Euro peans, who supply an inexhaustible subject of raillery for their social par ties. They do not appreciate the at titude of arrogant superiority adopted by many white men in their inter course with so-called savages." How It Happened. His wife had made a little quiet in vestigation of his coat. “Henry,” she said in no pleasant tone, “you never mailed the letter I gave you last week. I can feel It right in the corner of your coat." Her husband brought out the coat in a rather shame-faced way. There was no doubt, the letter was just where she said. Reaching Into the in sire pocket, he groped down and down until he at last grasped the envelope. •'Yes, my dear,” he replied; “you see, it slipped down through the torn lining you promised jo sew up mors than a month ago.” Guarding Against Expense. It took a New York mlUionarie to hit upon the best scheme yet for cut ting down household expenses if one must wed; he married a fashionable milliner.—Baltimore New* mean it? You will take me with you?” “Yes. Don't be afraid. Come! Get In," said the woman in the car rapidly. “You—you are real?” The girl did not he,ir the strange question. She was hurrying around to the opposite side of the car. As she crossed before thd lamps, Mrs. Wrandall noticed with dulled inter est that her garments were covered with mud; her small, comely hat was in sad disorder; loose wisps of hair fluttered with the unsightly veil. Her hands, she recalled, were clad in thin suede gloves. She would be half frozen. She had been out in all this terrible weather—perhaps since the hour of her flight from the inn. The odd feeling of pity grew strong er within her. She made no effort to analyze it, nor to account for it. Why should she pity the slayer of her hus band? It was a question unasked, un considered. Afterwards she was to recall this hour and its strange im pulses. and to realize that it was not pity, but mercy that moved her to do the extraordinary thing that followed. Trembling all over, her teeth chat tering, her breath coming in short lit tle moans, the girl struggled up be side her and fell back in the seat. Without a word. Sara Wrandall drew the great buffalo robe over her and tucked it in about her feet and legs far up about her body, which had slumped down in the seat. “You are very, very good.” chattered the girl, almost inaudibly. “I shall nev er forget—” She did not complete the sentence, but sat upright and fixed her gaze on her companion's face. “You— you are not doing this just to turn me over to—to the police? They must be searching for me. You are not going to give me up to them, are you? There will be a reward I—” “There is no reward," said Sara Wrandall sharply. “I do not mean to give you up. I am simply giving you a chance to get away. 1 have always felt sorry for the fox when the time for the kill drew near. That’s the way I feel." “Oh. thank you! Thank you! But what am I saying? Why should I per mit you to do this for me? I meant to go back there and have it over with. I know I can't escape. It will have to come, it is bound to come. Why put It off? Let them take me, let them do what they will with me. I—" “Hush! We’ll see. First of all, un derstand me: I shall not turn you over to the police. I will give you the chance. I will help you. I can do no more than that.” "But why should you help me? I— I—oh, I can't let you do it! You do not understand. I—have—committed —a—terrible—" she broke off with a groan. “I understand," said the other, some thing like grimness in her level tones. ”1 have been tempted more than once myself.” The enigmatic remark made no impression on the listener. “I wonder how long ago it was that it all happened," muttered the girl, as if to herself. “It seems ages—oh, such ages.” "Where have you been hiding since last night?” asked Mrs. Wrandall.; throwing in the clutch. The car start ed forward with a jerk, kicking up the snow behind it. “Was it only last night? Oh, I’ve been—“ The thought of her suffer ings from exposure and dread was too much for the wretched creature. She broke out in a soft wail. “You’ve been out in all this weath er?” demanded the other. “I lost my way. In the hills back there. I don’t know where I was.” “Had you no place of shelter?" “Where could I seek shelter? I spent the day in the cellar of a farm- j eVs house. He didn’t know I was: there. I have had no food.” “Why did you kill that man?" (TO BE CONTINUED.) ■ The Winner In order to do things—to suc ceed—you must have health, and this means taking care of the digestion, the liver and the bowels. For this particular work HOSTETTER’S Stomach Bitters is well adapted. It soothes and tones the tired stomach and promotes bowel regularity. Try it. Awful Possibility. “There!" said Hooligan. “There Misther Mooligan, see that wonther tul tunnel, and here comes the thrain! Watch now, an' let the wind whis tle through your whiskers! Begor rah, but 'tis a soight to make a man—there look at that now!” The train whizzed past them and was swallowed up in the darkness of the tunnel. “An’ what, Misther Mooliga..." said Mr.'Hooligan, “what do you think of that tfow?” “Well, Mr. Hooligan." said Mr. Mool igan, “I'm thinking what would hap pen if the thrain missed the hole, so I am." The Tapestry Mode. The Millionaire (declining to pur chase post-impression creation)— Xoth'n’ doin'! Why. my maiden • a'nt cud darrn a better picture n that.—Punch. Important to Mothers Examine carefully every bottle of IASTORIA, a safe and sure remedy for Infants and children, and see that It In Use For Over 30 Tears. Children Cry for Fletcher’s Castorls The Change. "In all his dealings with me, I have always found Smith white.” "He was, but now he's turning gray.” I>r. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets regulate and invigorate stomach, liver and bowe s. Sugar-coated, tiny granules, easy to take is candy. Adv. Over 40 per cent of the bachelor of arts’ degrees awarded in 1910 went to women. nTen smiles for a nickel. Always buy R?d Cross Ball Blue; have beautiful clear white clothes. Adv. The Countess of Warwick taboos furs, and also will not wear feathers except those of an ostrich. Have You a Bad Back ? Does your back ache night and dav. making work a burden and rest impossi ble? Do you suffer stabbing, darting pains when stooping or lifting? Most bad backs are due to hidden trouble in the kidneys and if the kidney secretions are scant or too frequent of passage, proof of kidney trouble is complete. De lay may pave the way to serious kidney ills. For bad backs and weak kidneys use Doan's Kidney Pills—recommended the world over. A KANSAS CASE Charles Cole. 204 «. X. Buckeye Street. Picture lola. Kan., says: Telit "My back waa 10 a .Story" weak and painful mat me least ex ertion made me miserable. My feet | and limbs swelled 1 and the kidney A secretions were m scant and filled ^ with sediment. I w & s in awful shape. when a friend recommend ed Doan's Kidney Pills. They helped me from the first and I kept on un til I was cured.** Gel Does'* at Any Store. SOe.Boi DOAN’S V&W FOSTER-MILBURN CO, BUFFALO. N. Y. Nebraska Directory DOCTORS MACH A MACH DENTISTS . 3rd F!°or Paxton Block 116th AFarnam St«„ Omiha Dental Of lets fn Omaha Besson elite pttcee. Special discount to all peepie living oetude of Omaha. California Ostrich Plume Co. 1209 N. Street, Lincoln, and 208 Neville Block, (6th and Harney Streets, Omaha. All plumaa made over, damned, dyad ana ourlvd. "hotel Omaha, Nebraska EUROPEAN PLAN ._„ cents up dou jle. CATE PRICES REASONABLE BUSS £ WELLMAN Live Stock Commission Merchants 284-256 Exchange Hulldlup, South Unis,ha All stock consigned to us is solo by members of the Arm. and all employees bare been selected »nd trained for the work which they do. Writ*, ctsevtk ,p ua Oome direct to this store when yon need claaiea. GLOBE OPTICAL CO. Northeaat corner t6th end remain Sta.. Omaha. N.;br, I Hetabllahed IT yeara. Mallua yonr broken glasses, will r» pair ana re tarn Uie same <laj. SHIP TO WOOD BROS. LEADING SELLERS OF LIVE STOCK SINCE 1867. TRY US AT SOUTH OMAHA CHICAGO_SIOUX CITY DEFIANCE STARCH is constantly growing in favor because it Does Not Stick to the Iron and it will not injure the finest fabric. For laundry nurposes it has no equal. 16 ox. package 10c. 1-3 more starch for same money. DEFIANCE STARCH CCX, Omaha, Nebraska