Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 4, 1915)
S3 5W THE BATTLE=CRY By CHARLES NEVILLE BUCK Author of “The Call of the Cumberlands” Illustrations by C. D. RHODES SYNOPSIS. 2X Jmnira Holland, a Philadelphia young woman of wealth, on her journey with her guide. Good Anse Talbott. Into the heart of the Cumberlands to become a learner of the mountain children, faints at the dt or of Fletch M. Nash's cabin. While resting there she overhears a talk between Had Anse Havey, chief of his clan, and one of his henchmen that ac quaints her with the Havey-McBrlar feud. Juanita has an unprofitable talk with Bad Anse and they become antagonists. Cal Douglas of the Havey clan is on trial in Pf,ril. for the murder of Noah Wyatt, a McBriar. In the night Juanita hears feudists ride past the McNash cabin. Juanita and Dawn McNash become friends. Cal Douglas Is acquitted. Nash Wyatt attempts to kill him but is him self killed by the Haveys. CHAPTER VI. When, just before sunset yesterday afternoon, a verdict of acquittal for Cal Douglas had come from the jury room, the town of Peril had once more held its breath and doors had closed and the streets had cleared of such as wished to remain noncombatants. But with no comment or criticism Milt McBriar mounted his horse and rode out of town, shaping his course over the hills toward his own house. Fol lowing his example with equal quiet, his kinsmen mounted, too, and disap peared. As for Cal Douglas, he reserved any enthusiasm his vindication may have brought to his heart until he was back again in the depths of the hills. He and his kinsmen turned their horses by a shorter and steeper trail to the house where the dance was going for ward with shuffling and liddling and passing of the jug. When Milt McBriar and his fellows started home an informer or two from the Havey ranks kept them in view, themselves unseen, until they passed through the gap and started down the other side of the ridge into their own domain. That they were being so watched was either known to the McBriars or assumed by them. But a picked squad on fresh mounts was waiting over there in a place where the road ran deep through the forest and laurel, and this squad was equipped with re peating rifles. Milt McBriar himself did not go with them. He had made all his arrangements in advance, and it was not seemly that the chief should take a personal part in an exe cution w'hich he had decreed. “Let me hear the news, boys," Old Milt had said with a wave of his hand, and then he had ridden on stol idly toward his own domain. The house where the dance was be ing held stood between the knees of two hills. Near midnight a half-dozen men who had not been invited rode care fully over an almost obliterated trail Slowly Three of the New Arrivals Hitched Their Way Forward. which wound blindly through the hills at the back of the place and hitched their horses in a rock-sur rounded hollow a half-mile from the house. Other horses and mules were hitched all along the country road, but these belonged to the legitimate guests. As the half-dozen men. whose arri val had been so cautiously accom plished, began slipping down, each holding his own course in the cover of the laurel, there was nothing to indi cate that any warning had gone ahead of them. From the houses with their yellow windows and their open doors came no note of apprehension—no intima tion of suspicion. A medley of voices, now and then a laugh, a din of scrap ing feet, and the whine and boom of fiddles gave out a careless chorus to the night. Slowly, with an adept craft that hardly broke a twig underfoot, three of the new arrivals hitched their way forward to a point of vantage down near the road. They went crouched low, holding to the shadows with rifles f thrust out (Copyright by Chai ahead and faces almost smiling in their grim foretaste of sure success. In a few moments they would have before them the doors and windows as lighted targets. Then whoever saw Cal Douglas would crook fo-efinger on trigger and the error of the jury would be rectified. The others would follow with a volley at random for good measure. It was almost too easy. It seemed a shame to snatch a full and red re venge with such scant effort. Then, as the foremost figure, crouch ing in easy range of a window, braced himself on one knee and peered for ward under his upturned hat-brim, there came the reports of several rifles—but they were not the rifles of the McBriar squad, and they came not from the hills in front, but from the laurel at the back. They broke from directly between the carefully picked squad and its horses. The man who had braced his knee and cocked his rifle gave out a brief, gurgling sound as an oath was stifled off in a hemorrhage of the throat, and pitched forward on his face. After that the figure lay without stirring, its own blood reddening the rifle whose trigger-guard pressed against its fore head. The doors vomited men. There was a trailing and ragged outburst of fire arms, and many dark figures plunged here and there across the silvered spaces where the shadows did not fall. Of the six men who had crept down, three had Iain within one hundred yards of the house when the shots came from their rear. The other three were off at the side, ready to bring up the horses as close as might prove safe when the moment came for flight. But they, too, found themselves cut off. Had the man who fired on the one who was about to fire waited one minute longer, there would have been more deaths than the single one. His colleagues would then have been, like himself, covering their respective vic tims—victims who confidently thought themselves executioners. But as it was. they had not quite yet worked themselves into positions untram meled by intervening rock and timber. The man who fired first knew this, for he had not heard the perfectly im itated quaver of “scritch-owls" which was to signify a common readiness. But as he had eyed his crouching vic tim across his rifle-sights he had also been able to look beyond him. and had seen the figure of Cal Douglas pause at the lighted window. He knew that to wait a moment would be to wait too long. So the others.had to fire blindly through the black undergrowth at speeding shadows—and they missed. The fleeing murder squad melted back into the black timber, and some of them, signaling with the call of frog and owl, came together in tem porary safety. They dared not go to their own horses, since they might be discovered in the effort. The road that led into the McBriar country would be watched. If they were to carry away unpunctured skins they must flee the other way—into the Ha vey territory and astride stolen Havey horses. It was every man for himself, I and they had not paused to count noses. They hurriedly swung them selves into saddles at the remote end of the line of hitched mounts and gal loped pell-mell down the road toward the cabin of Fletch McNash. When the theft of the horses was discovered Anse Havey sent pursuing parties to ride the roads in both direc tions. It had seemed to Havey wiser to withhold his warning from all save those whom he needed to use. To all the rest the affair had come without notice, and the hue and cry which fol lowed the rifle-shots was genuine in its excitement. But in a very few moments the pandemonium fell away and sullen ness supplanted the shouting. The mountains behind, where several men were stealthily seeking escape and many others were stalking them, lay silent in the moonlight. A hundred yards beyond the win dow a small and inquisitive knot of men gathered around a figure that had hunched forward, sprawling on a cocked rifle. Someone turned the fig ure up and straightened its limbs so that they should not stiffen in such grotesque attitude. The face, with the yellow lantern-light shining down on it, was the face of a boy of twenty. Its thin lips were set in a grim smile of satisfaction, for death had over taken him without a suspicion of its coming. Perhaps, had a photograph of his retina been taken, it would have dis closed the portrait of Cal Douglas pausing at the open window. “Hit’s little Nash Watt!” exclaimed a surprised voice, using the diminu tive which In the mountains takes the place of junior and stays with a man well on in life. The victim who had been designated to avenge the death of Noah Watt had been Noah Watt’s younger brother. Meanwhile the pursuing horsemen were gaining slowly on those that fled. The murder squad had failed and must bear back to Milt McBriar, if lea Neville Buck.) they ever got back, a narrative ot frustrated effort. They were bitterly angry and proportionately desperate. So, as they clattered along the empty road, meeting no enemy whom they could shoot down in appeasement of their wrath, they satisfied themselves with raising their war cry for the ben efit of the sleeping cabins. A little distance beyond Fletch Mc Nash’s place lay a cross-trail by which they might find a circuitous way back over the ridge, but it was too steep and broken to ride. They could make better time on foot over the "roughs," so there they abandoned their mounts and plunged into the timber. When the pursuers came up with the dis carded horses they realized that fur ther effort in the nighttime would be bootless. Yet, since the heaving flanks and panting nostrils of the horses testified that they had been only a few minutes late, they took a last chance and plunged into the thicket. There a single defiant shot, sent from a long way up the hillside, was their only challenge, and their volley of reply, fired at the flash, was merely a retort of hatred. But even in the iso lation of the hills certain news travels on wings, and the morning would find every cabin dweller wearing a face of grim and sullen realization. The phrase which Fletch McNash had whis pered to his boy would travel to the headwaters of every fork, and the faces of the women would once more wear the drawn misery of anxiety for their men. CHAPTER VII. It was into this newly charged at mosphere that Juanita Holland and her missionary guide rode in the morn ing mists. Good Anse Talbott was in many ways an inadequate ally. He was both narrow and illiterate, but he was ear nest. At last the girl rode resolutely up to her escort’s saddle-skirts and asked: Brother Talbott, hadn’t you better tell me what it all means?’’ The missionary lifted a face that was almost haggard. “Hit means,” he said, with no idea of irreverence, “thet Satan’s got both underholts—an’ God help this coun try." Then he sketched for her the his tory of the feud and deduced conclu sions from what they had both seen and heard. She listened with a sickening heart until he changed the subject and told her that the Widow Everson, with whom she was to stop, had a sizable house where she would be comfortable. At last the girl saw, still a long way off, a fertile little valley, where the corn seemed taller and richer than on the scattered coves. There, like a tiny matchbox, on a high level near which the wall of mountain broke into a broad gateway, she could make out a house. It was not of logs, but of brick, and stood in an inclosure that looked more like the Blue Grass than the mountains. “Does ye see yon brick house nigh ther gap? Thet’s Bad Anse’s place, an’ over thar acrost ther ridge, three mile away by crow-flight an’ a half day’s ride by ther roads, is whar Milt McBriar dwells. Ye kain’t see hit from hyar.” It was almost sundown when they reached the house of the Widow Ever son, and at sight of the woman stand ing at the fence to meet them Juani ta’s heart took strength. This house was not of logs, but of undressed boards, with gayly painted window and door frames of red, and although two days ago she would have called It mean, she had revised her views enough to regard it now as almost magnificent. wiuuw uweu nere witn ner two sons, and the trio, by virtue of great diplomacy, had succeeded in maintain ing a neutrality throughout the strife. The comforts of the place were such as must serve to give contentment where teaming is arduous and the mail carrier comes twice a week, but cleanliness dwelt there and homely cheer of a sort. Before they had yet entered the house the girl saw a horseman ap proaching with an escort of several men who carried rifles balanced across their pommels. They came from the east, and though Juanita did not know who they were, she recognized the cen tral rider, himself unarmed, to be a person of consequence. He was tall, and under his faded coat his rather lean figure fell into an attitude of well-muscled strength de spite his fullness of years. ‘“’Evenin’, ma’am.” said the new comer. “No, I hain’t a-goin’ ter light. I jest heered thet Brother Talbott was a-comin’ over hyar, an’ 1 wanted speech with him.” The missionary nodded. “All right. Milt,” he said, and the girl knew, as she had already suspect ed, that here was a second of her chief enemies. “I reckon ye all knows what hap pened last night,” she heard him say ing slowly. “Hit war a pity, an’ I hears thet ther Haveys are a-chargin’ hit up ergin me. Thet’s nat'ral enough, I reckon. They ’lows thet I’d walk plumb acrost hell on a rotten plank ter do ’em injury. Ef they stopped ter reason hit out a spell they’d recollect thet 1 went over thar ter Peril an' let a jedge thet didn’t own his own soul an’ a jury they hed done packed, clar one of their kinfolks fer killin’ a cousin o’ mine—an' thet I never raised a hand. I reckon they didn’t hardly hev no call ter figger thet I was skeered of them. I done what I done because I wanted peace. 1 was fer lettin’ ther law take hits co’se, even when I knowed the cote war crooked es a drunkard’s elbow.” He paused, and no one spoke, so at last he went on again. “But little Nash Watt war young an’ hot-hearted. He could hardly see hit in ther light of wisdom, and he didn’t come ter me fer counsel. So he jest went hell-splittin’ over thar with some other boys that he overpersuaded—an’ he didn't come back. I’m sorry. I was “I ’Lowed I’d Ask Ye Ef Ye’d Fetch the Body Home.’’ right fond of Little Nash, but I hain't complainin' none. He started trouble an’ he got hit." Again the dark giant paused: then' he came to his point. His voice was regretful, almost sad, but tinged with resignation. "So Little Nash is a-layin’ dead down thar, an’ no McBriar durstn’t venture down ter fotch his bodv home." He waved a hand toward the west, and the faces of his escort lowered. They seemed the faces of men who "durst” go anywhere, but their chief went on. "I knowed. Brother Talbott, thet ye sarves Almighty God, an’ thet thar hain't no word ye carries but what all men will listen ter ye, so I’ve done come ter ye in behalf of Little Nash’s maw, an’ his wimmenfolks. 1 ’lowed I’d ask ye ef ye’d ride down thar and fotch home ther body?” The missionary nodded, and though he was travel-stained and very tired, he said: “I’ll start right now.” Then Milt McBriar continued: “An’ ef ye sees fit, ye kin tell Anse Havey thet I hain’t a suin' fer peace, but thet I hain't a-blamiu’ him nuther, an' thet ef he wants ther truse ter go on I’m a-willin’ ter hev hit thetaway. I hain’t holdin’ no grudge on account of last night.” Juanita s eyes grew a little misty as she thought of that desolated cabin where a mother and sisters were griev ing for the boy who had been "hot hearted.” Even the sight of his older kinsman, who sat his horse with such composure while his eyes wandered off to the purple haze of the far moun tains, stirred in her an emotion of sympathy. Of course she knew nothing of the ten acres of "bottom land” which were to be Little Nash’s when Cal Douglas should have ceased to breathe, nor how it was covetousness and cold thrift that sent him out with his rifle in the night. She only heard the Mc Briar say, “I'm much obleeged;” and saw him turn his cavalcade east. The tired missionary started his mule west again, and she herself fol lowed the Widow Everson into the cabin which was for the time to be her home. When the widow left her she rummaged in her saddlebags and drew out a small leather case. She sat for a long while silent in her shuck-bot tomed rocking chair, gazing wearily out at the west, where sunset fires were beginning to kindle, and where an old-rose haze was drowsing over the valley and glowing more brightly in the twisting ribbon of a far-away stream. But her eyes came often back from the panorama out there to dwell a little wistfully on a photograph in the leather frame. It was the picture of the man she had sent away. Had he himself been there just then, with her courage at ebb-tide, and had he stretched out his arms, she would have shaken her head wearily on abstract resolves and come Into their embrace. But he was not there. In thd quaint conversation of the Widow Everson and her sons Juanita found sc much of the amusing that she had to school herself against too great an appreciation of their utterly unin tentional humor. Though she was a ‘‘fotched-on ■woman” to be taken on probation, it was only a matter of hours before the family capitulated, as people in general had a fashion of do ing under the spell of her graciousness and charm. Jerry Everson,' whom men accounted surly, for the first time in years brushed his shapeless hat and remembered not to "hang it on the iloor,” and Sim Everson hied him into the misty woods at dawn and brought home squirrels for her first breakfast in his house. In the forenoon of her first day she left the house and, crossing the tiny garden where the weeds were already growing tall and rank enough to hint of future ragged victory, she made her way by a narrow trail that led to the crest of the ridge. Juanita was steering her course for a patriarchal poplar that sent a straight shaft heavenward at the rim of the crest, opening its verdure like a great flag, unfurled on a mighty para pet. She knew that up there she could look two ways across the divide, and that her battleground would be spread before her. She looked to the east, and line after line of hills melted into the sky. She looked to the west, and there, too, they rose, phalanx on phalanx, to dissolve in a smoky haze that effaced the hori zon. It seemed as if in a majesty of relentlessness they reached from sun rise to sunset, and so, as far as the locked-in life of their people went, ^tliey might. out; siuuu mere a long wnue, ana finally she saw, where for a space the road ran near the brick house, un shielded by the woods, a straggling little cortege. At its front rode a stoop-shouldered man in whom, even at that far distance, she thought she recognized the missionary. Behind him came a few horsemen riding in two squads, and betwreen the squads crawled a “jolt-wagon” drawn by mules. She knew that the Haveys were bringing back to the frontier the enemy’s dead, and she shuddered at the coM reality. It may have been three hours later that Good Anse Talbott rode up to the Widow Everson's. When the girl, who had returned long ago front the crest, came out to meet him at the door she found him talking there with Milt McBriar, who had also ridden up, but from the other direction. “Anse Havey ’lows," the preacher was saying, “that he hes done fotched home ther body of little Nash Watt, an’ thet ther boy was shot ter death a layin' in ther la’rel a hundred paces from the winder whar Cal Douglas was a standin’!” “I’ve done already acknowledged thet,” declared Milt in a voice into which crept a trace of truculent sul lenness. The missionary nodded. “I hain’t quite through yit, Milt,” he went on evenly, and the girl who stood lean ing against the door-frame, caught for an instant a sparkle of zealot earnest ness in his weary eyes. “Anse is willin’ ter take yore hand on this truce. He’s willin’ ter stand pledge thet ther Haveys keeps faith. But I'm a preacher of the Gawspel of God, Milt, and I don’t low ter be no go-between without both of you men does keep faith.” Milt McBriar stiffened resentfully, and his dark brows drew together un der his hat brim. “Does ye doubt thet I’ll do what I says?” he inquired in a voice too soft for sincerity. The missionary did not drop his steady and compelling eyes from the gaze direct. It was as if he were read ing through the pupils of the other and searching the dark heart. “I aims ter see thet ye both starts out fair, Milt,” he said, still quietly. “An’ ter thet end I aims ter admonish ye both on ther terms of this meetin' atween ye.” Dor an instant Milt McBriar's sem blance of calm reflectiveness slipped from him and his voice rose raspingly. “Did Anse Havey learn ye thet speech?” Good Anse Talbott shook his head patiently. “No. I told Anse ther same thing I’m a-tellin’ you. Neither Anse ner ther four men that fetches ther body will hev any sort of weepou about ’em when they comes acrost thet stile. Ye’ve got ter give me yore hand thet none of yore men hain’t a goin’ ter be armed. I'm a servant of ther Most High God.” For an instant fire blazed in the preacher's eyes and his voice mounted with fervor. "Fer years I’ve done sought ter teach his grace an’ his hatred of murder ter ther people of these hyar hills. When you two men shakes hands on this truce I aims ter be standin’ by with a rifle-gun in my hands, an' ef I sees anything crooked I’m goin’ ter use hit.” The dark giant stood for a time silent, then he gravely nodded his head. “Them terms suits me,” he said briefly. The two men walked down to the fence and separated there, going in opposite directions. A few minutes later Juanita, still standing fascinatedly in the doorway, was looking out across the shoulder of the missionary. He presided at the threshold with grave eyes, and, eveu after these peaceful years, there was something of familiar caress in the way his brown hand lay on his rifle lock. Then the girl saw a strange and primitive ratification of treaty. On either side of the little porci stood a group of solemn men, mostl' bearded, mostly coatless, and all uu l armed. In front of those, at the rigli' | stood Anse Havey, his eyes still the I dominant feature of the picture. | Over across from him was the taller and older chieftain of the other clan. | They stood there grave'.y, with a ! courtesy that cloaked their hatred Out in the road whs the "jolt-wagon.’’ and in its deep bed the girl could see the canvas that covered its burden. As Bad Anse took his place at the front of his escort his gaze met that of Juanita. He did not speak, but for an instant she saw his face harden his eyes narrow, and his lips set themselves. It was the glance of one who has been lashed across the face and who cannot strike hack, but who | will not soon forget. I This time the girl’s eyes did not , drop, and certainly they held no hint ! of relenting or plea for forgiveness, j But at that moment the head of the i Haveys turned from her and began i speaking. i got your message, amt, ne saia casually, “an' 1 reckon you got my answer. I’ve brought back Little Nash.” “I’m obleeged ter ye.” The McBriar paused, then volunteered: "Ef ther boy had took counsel of me. this thing wouldn’t never hev happened.” Bad Anse Havey stood looking at the other, then he nodded. “Milt,” he carelessly announced at the end of his scrutiny, while the ghost of an ironical smile glinted in his eyes, though it left his lips grave, "I’ve got several hosses an’ mules down thar in my barn that we found hitched out in ther timber when Nash an’ his friends took to the la’rel.” Again he paused and studied the faces of the McBriar men before he went on. “One of ’em is your own roan mare, Milt. One of ’em b’longs ter Sam thar, and one is Bob's thar.” He pointed out each man as he spoke “Ye can get ’em any time ye send down for ’em.” The girl caught her breath and, de spite her dislike, acknowledged the cool insolence with which Anse had answered Milt's plea of innocence. Milt replied only with a scowl, so Anse contemplatively continued, as though to himself: “Hit’s right smart pity for a feller to go out shootin’ in the night-time an’ to take a kinsman's horse—with out takin’ his counsel. It might lead to some misunderstandin’.” A baleful glare flashed deep in the eyes of the taller man, and from the henchmen at his back came an uneasy shuffle of brogans. But the voice of Good Anse Talbott relieved the tension. “Stiddy, thar, men,” he quietly cau tioned. "Ye didn't hardly meet ter talk ’bout hosses. I’ll lead them nags back myself. Milt.” Then Anse Havey stepped forward and held out his hand. “I gives ye my hand, Milt McBriar,” he said, “that ther truce goes on.” “An’ I gives ye mine,” rejoined the other. After a perfunctory shake the two turned together and went down the "I Gives Ye My Hand, Milt McBriar.” j steps. The girl saw both squads lift ing the covered burden from the wag on and carrying it around the road, where the other wagon waited. She believed that the feud was ended, but it is doubtful if either of the princi pals whose bands had joined parted with great trust in the integrity of the other’s intentions. It is certain that one of them at least was already making plans for the future, not at all in accordance with that compact of l peace. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Haying for Deer. Winters when the snow is deep for long stretches of time deer congregate j in yards In the Adirondacks and many ! of the weaker ones die of starvation, j Their skeletons may be found in vari 1 ous parts of the great wilderness i when the snows are gone. This year ; game protectors have been cutting tons of marsh hay on the beaver meadows in the remote sections of the Adiron dacks and stacking it in sheltered places to be fed to the deer next win i ter when the snow is so deep that other food is not obtainable. The con ! servation commission believes that It I will save the lives of hundreds of deer that otherwise would perish. The 1 stacks have been encased in pole , frames and liberally salted. Deer will not eat marsh hay unless it is so treated. MAKING WAR ON THE ANT Little Creatures Are Looked Upon as Enemies and Are Being Treated Accordingly. Merely emulating the ant is not sufficient in these days, according to tbfe agricultural experiment station ot the University of Arizona; you’ve got to prevent his being too industrious himself. It is the harvester ant whose indefatigable industry is receiving sec ond thought. The farmers of the university say that the harvester ants might become a menace to crops and have launched a crusade against them. The menace is not serious because it is being taken in time. That is the function of the experiment station. In times gone by the ant enjoyed a high reputation among writers and philosophers for its general industri ous qualities and good behavior. Solo mon, who had a comer on the wisdom market in his time, issued standing advice to young men afflicted with the hookworm to call on the ant and take a few lessons In doing things, and the busy little insect was frequently writ ten up in the newspapers as an intel lectual and moral person of the first rank. Lately scientists have been taking some unkind shots at the ant family. Ants are credited with devastating gardens, biting chickens, spoiling porch parties and making themselves g lerally obnoxious in the kitchen and dining room. Various deadly dopes have been pro posed that will make any colony send out an S. O. S. call for the Red Cross society. Kerosene, carbon bisulphide, London purple and other indigestible products of the drug stores are being invoked to increase their death rate. Looking After Well Children. On the basis that a physician can do more for the general health of a child if he takes the child under his care while in good physical condition rather than in sicknesB, New York has completed plans to keep its 800, 000 school children well. A dispensary for the prevention of disease among well children is contemplated. This arrangement will be put into effect when the public schools reopen and embraces the most sweeping meas ures ever taken by the city authorities to get their power from the sanitary code. Back of the movement are the leading educators, social workers and philanthropists of the city. They have pledged their influence and support to the board of education and health of ficers. The big thing is to see that the child on enrolling for the first time in the public school, and thus coming for the first time under the care of the city, gets a thorough medical ex amination, and th^t the pupil’s phys ical condition is made plain not only to the parents, but to the municipal authorities. Plenty of Them. “Did he get any damages in that assault case?” “I should say he did, mostly on his face.” THE EUROPEAN WAR A YEAR AGO THIS WEEK Nov. 1, 1914. Allies took Mariakerke. Allies crossed the Yperlee ard occupied Bixschoote. Montenegrins bombarded Catta ro and advanced in Herzegovina. Austrian movement checked at Nadworna. Desperate fighting at Tsingtau; the city in flames. German squadron under Admi ral von Spee defeated British squadron under Admiral Craddock off Chile coast; British cruisers Good Hope and Monmouth sunk. Turks bombarded Sebastopol. Nov. 2, 1914. Germans captured Messines. Allies took Ramscapelle with bayonet. Russians advanced on East Prus sia, Germans retreating on three lines. Austrians and Serbians in battle near Rovrye. Austro-German forces in Poland made another stand. Russians and Turks fought near Trebizond. Turks began advance on Egypt. Anglo-French fleet began bom bardment of the Dardanelles. Germans mined coast of Asiatic Turkey. Martial law proclaimed In Egypt. British admiralty closed North sea to commerce. Nov. 3, 1914. Germans gained ground east of Soissons and Vailly. Allies checked Germans in Ar gonne region. Belgians trapped Germans at Fumes by ruse. Austrians stormed Sabao. British cruiser bombarded Aka bah, Arabia, and sailors occupied the town. Turks threatened Suez canal. British submarine D-6 sunk by mine in North sea. Rockefeller Foundation relief ship sailed for Europe. Nov. 4, 1914. Germans lost along the Yser but repulsed allies south of Verdun and in the Vosges. Terrific fighting in Ypres region. Russians captured Bakalarjewo, drove German left wing back toward Biala and Lyck and dis lodged rear guards from Kola and Przedborz. Austrians defeated on entire front from Kielce to Sandomierz. Japanese captured guns and 800 prisoners at Tsingtau. Germans defeated British in Ger man East Africa. Russia began invasion of Arme nia. German cruiser York sunk by mine in Jade bay. Austrian cruiser Kaiserin Eliza beth sunk by Germans to prevent capture. American warship sent to Bei rut to protect Christians. Nov. 5. 1914. Germans repulsed at Arras and Armentieres. Germans made further gains in Argonne region and the Vosges. Russians captured Mlava, north of Warsaw. British mine sweeper Mary sunk in North sea. England and France declared war on Turkey. England annexed island of Cy prus. Turks won in Kara-Killissa and Tehan districts. Nov. 6, 1914. Allies retook Souptr and cap tured German trenches on the Meuse and east of Verdun. Battle raged aroui.d Ypres. French trapped Germans in Ar ras. Russians reoccupied Jaroslaw, Austrians retreating along entire Galician front. British ships shelled Belgian coast. Turks bombarded Batum. Austrian airmen dropped bombs on Antivari. Placing Him. “Pop?" “Well?” “Is the weather man the man who predicts what kind of weather we are going to have?" “No, the weather man predicts the kind of weather we are not going to have.” Equivocal. “Are you in favor of this anti-kiss ing crusade?” “I certainly would set my face against the practice." s Not a Convincing Influence. “Do you believe in capital punish ment?” “No,” replied Mr. Growcher. “So many people who seem legally liable to it manage to escape that when a man actually undergoes it, he looks merely like a victim of hard luck." The Ruling Passion. “You are saved!” cried the rescu ers as they dragged the gasping miser from the water. “No," he weakly replied, “I’m not saved; I’m spent."