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^CHADLES NEVILLE BUCK
1 AUTHOR of "Tfi'eCALLoj'tfieCUMBLRLANDS”
ILLUSTRATIONS CL>. RHODES
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SYNOPSIS.
Juanita 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
teacher of the mountain children, faints
at the door of Fleteh McNash’s cabin.
While resting there she overhears a talk
between Bad Anse Havey. chief of his
clan, and one of his henchmen that ac
quaints her with the Havey-McBriar feud.
Juanita has an unprofitable talk with Bad
Anse and they become antagonists. Cal
Douglas of the Havey clan is on trial in
Peril, 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. Juanita goes
to live with the Widow Everson, whose
boys are outside the feud. Milt McBriar,
head of his clan, meets Bad Anse there
and disclaims responsibility for Wyatt’s
attempt to kill Douglas. They declare a
truce, under pressure from Good Anse
Talbott. Juanita thinks she finds that
Bad Anse is opposing her efforts to buy
land and build a school. Milt McBriar
breaks the truce by having Fleteh Mc
Nash murdered. Jeb McNash begs Bad
Anse to tell him who killed his father,
but is not told. Juanita and Bad Anse
further misunderstand each other. Bad
Anse Is bitter, but tells Juanita he does
not fight women and will give her land if
necessary. Juanita gets her land and
cabin. Old Bob McGreegor incites Jeb
McNash to murder Young Milt McBriar,
but Jeb refrains as he is not sure Young
Milt is the murderer. Young Milt and
Dawn meet several times, resulting in a
demand from Bad Anse that Dawn leave
Juanita’s cabin. Juanita and Good Anse
go to see Bad Anse, who again says that
the school will fail because it has been
started by Juanita in the wrrong way.
Juanita begins to understand-Bad Anse’s
dream of regeneration for his people.
CHAPTER XIV—Continued.
Again Jeb's face had become ashen
and his muscles were twitching. Anse
laid a hand on his shoulder, but the
boy jerked away and again confronted
bis elder, while his voice broke from
his lips in an excess of passion. “Tell
me his name. By God, he b’longs ter
me!”
“No, I ain't goin' to tell ye bis name
just yet, Jeb," Anse calmly announced.
“He ain’t in these parts now. He's left
the mountains, an’ it wouldn’t do ye
much good to know his name—yet.
Two days after he comes back I’ll tell
ye all ye wants to know, an’ I won’t
try ter hinder ye. but ye must let the
children stay over there at the school.
Dawn’s heart’s set on it, an’ it wouldn't
be fair to break her heart.”
The boy stood trembling in wrath
and indecision. Finally his voice came
dubiously. “Ye done give me yore
hand once before thet es soon es ye
knowed ye’d tell me—an’ ye lied ter
me.”
Anse Havey shook his head with un
ruffled patience.
No. I didn't lie to ye, son. I wasn’t
sure till after he left. I ain't never
lied to no man.”
A long silence fell on the room.
Through the open window came the
silvery call of a quail in some distant
thicket. After a while the boy raised
his head and nodded. “I’ll give ye
my hand,” he said.
When he left the room Juanita rose
from her chair.
“There is no way to thank you. Mr.
Hftvey.” she said with a touch of diffi
dence. “I don’t believe that two wrongs
ever made one right. I don't believe
that you can win out to law by law
lessness. But l do believe you are
sincere, and I know that you’re a
man.”
“And, for my part,” he answered
slowly. “I think ye’re just tryin’ to
grow an oak tree in a flower pot, an’
It can’t be done. I think that all ye
can do is to breed discontent—an’ in
these hills discontent is dangerous.
But 1 ain’t hinderin’ your school an’
I don’t ’low to. Ye’ll find out for your
self that it’s a failure an’ quit at your
own behest.”
1 shan t quit, she assured him, but
this time she smiled as she said it.
"I am going ahead, and in the end I
am going to undermine the regime of
feud and illiteracy; that is, I and
others like me. But can t we fight the
thing out as if it were a clean game?
Can’t we be friendly adversaries?
You’ve been very generous, and I've
been a bigoted little fool, but can’t you
forgive me and be friends?"
He straightened and his face hard
ened again, and slowly he shook his
head. His voice was very grave and
uncompromising, though without dis
courtesy. "I'm afraid it’s a little too
late for that."
Juanita slowly drew back the hand
ghe had extended and her cheeks
flushed crimson. It was the first time
In her life that she had made an un
solicited proffer of friendship—and it
had been rebuffed.
"Oh!" she murmured in a dazed,
hurt voice in which was no anger.
Then she smiled. “Then there’s noth
ing else to say, except to thank you a
thousand times."
“Ye needn't have no uneasiness
about my tryin’ to hinder ye,” he as
sured her slowly. “1 ain’t your ene
my an’ I ain’t youf friend. I’m just
lookin’ on, an’ I don't have no faith
In your success.”
"Don’t you feel that changes must
»me?" she questioned a little timidly.
“They have come everywhere else."
“They will come.” His voice again
rose vehemently. “But they’ll be made
my way—our way, not yours. These
hills sha’n’t always be a reproach to
the state of Kentucky. They’re goin'
to be her pride some day.”
“That’s all!” exclaimed the girl,
flinging at him a glance of absolute ad
miration. “I don’t care who does it, so
long as it’s done right. You’ve got to
see sooner or later that we’re working
to the same end. You may not be my
friend, but I’m going to be yours.”
“I’m obleeged to ye.” He gpoke
gravely and, turning on his heel left
the room by the back door.
As chance would have it. Young
Milt rode by her place the next day.
She knew he would come back the
same way, and that afternoon, as he
was returning, she intercepted him be
yond the turn of the road. With the
foreign courtesy learned abroad, he
lifted his hat and dismounted.
Juanita had always rather liked
Y’oung Milt. The clear fearlessness of
his eyes gave him a certain attractive
ness, and his face had so far escaped
the clouding veil of sullenness which
she so often saw.
At first she was a little confused as
to how to approach the subject, and
the boy rolled a cigarette as he stood
respectfully waiting.
“Milt,” she said at last, “please don’t
misunderstand me. It’s not because 1
want to, but I’ve got to ask you to give
me a promise. Y’ou see, I need your
help.”
At that the half smile left the boy’s
lips and a half frown came to his eyes.
“I reckon I know what ye mean,” he
said. “Young Jeb, he’s asked ye ter
warn me off. Why don’t Jeb carry his
own messages?”
Milt, she gravely reminded him,
resting her hand for a moment on his
coatsleeve, "it’s more serious than
that. Jeb ordered me to send his sis
ter back to the cabin. You are hav
ing an education. I want her to have
one. She has the right to it. I love
; her very dearly. Milt, and if you are
a friend you won’t rob her of her
1 chance.”
The boy’s eyes flashed.
"An’ ye’re goin’ ter send her back
I thar ter dwell amongst them razorback
. hawgs an’, houn’-dawgs an’ fleas?” he
! demanded spiritedly.
"That depends on you. Jeb is the
head of his family. I can’t keep her
without his consent. I had to promise
him that you shouldn’t visit her.”
For a moment the heir to the Mo
Briar leadership stood twisting the toe
of his heavy boot in the dust and ap
parently contemplating the little rings
it stamped out. Then he raised his
eyes and contemplatively studied the
crests of ridges softening with the
coming of sunset.
At last he inquired, “What hes Dawn
got ter say?”
"Dawn hasn't said much,” Juanita
faltered, remembering the girl's tirade,
then she confessed: “You see, Milt,
"Tell Me His Name. By God, He Be
longs to Me!"
just now Dawn is thinking of herself
as a Havey and of you as a McBriar.
All I ask is that you won’t try to see
her while she’s here at the school—
not, at all events, until things are dif
ferent.”
The boy was wrestling with youth’s
unwillingness to be coerced.
“An’ let Dawn think that her
brother skeered me off?” he questioned
at last with a note of rising defiance.
“Dawn sha’n’t think that. She shall
know that you have acted with a gen
tleman’s generosity, Milt—and because
I’ve asked you to do it.”
“Hain’t I good enough ter keep com
pany with Fletch McNash’s gal?" The
lad was already persuaded, but his
stubbornness fired this parting shot.
“It’s not a question of that, Milt, and
you know it,” declared Juanita. “It’s
just that one of your people killed one
of his. Put yourself in Jeb’s place.”
Still for a while the boy stood there
scowling^ down at the ground, but at
last he raised his face and nodded.
“It’s a bargain, ma’am, but mind I
only says I won’.t see her hyar. Some
day I’ll make Jeb pay fer it.”
He mounted and rode away while
the lazy, hazy sweetness of the smoky
FACTS WORTH KNOWING
You can’t estimate the amount of
money a man has by looking at him.
But a view of his wife will enable
you to come close nine times out of
ten.
Making butter boxes from hoop pine
is becoming a big business in Aus
tralia. New factories with modern
machinery are starting. The locally
made boxes are much cheaper than
the imported ones. Australia export
ed $17,3-0,000 worth of butter In 1913.
Each college In the western confer
ence awards an annual medal to the
young man who Is deemed best round
ed, athletically and Intellectually, on
his graduation. The youth who has
just been so honored at Minnesota is
named Beleslaus Rosenthal.
Although Chelsea, London, was
transformed Into a district of ideal
flats by the late Lord Cadogan, it will
always be remembered as its former
picturesque self through the litho
graphs of Whistler and thousands of
other old prints and paintings.
mists hung splendidly to the ridges
and the sunset flamed at his back.
Juanita never knew what details of
the incident came to Old Milt’s ears,
but when next the head of the bouse
passed her on the road he spoke with
a diminished cordiality, and when ahe
stopped him he commented: “I hear
ye’re a-runnin’ a Havey school over
thar now. Little Milt tells me ye
warned him often yore place."
She tried to explain, and though h*
pretended to accept all she said in
good humor, she knew in her heart
she had made a powerful and bitter
enemy.
One afternoon Anse Havey, wander
ing through the timber on his own
side of the ridge, came upon a lone
hunter, and when he drew near it
proved to be young Milt McBriar.
"Mornin’, Milt,” said Havey. "I didn’t
know ye ever went huntin’ over here."
The boy, who in feud etiquette was a
trespasser, met the scrutiny with a
level glance.
“I was a-gunnin’ for boomers,” he
said, using the local phrase for red
squirrels of the hills. “I reckon I
hain’t hardly got no license ter go gun
nin’ on yore land.”
Anse Havey sat down on a log and
looked up at the boy steadily. At last
he said gravely:
“Hunt as much as ye like. Milt, only
be heedful not to start no fires.”
Milt nodded and turned to go, but
the older man called him back.
“I want to have a word with ye.
Milt,” he said soberly. "I ain’t never
heard that /neither the McBriars nor
the Haveys countenanced settin’ fire
to dwellin’-houses, have you?”
i uon t Know what ye means, re
sponded the boy, and the gaze that
passed between them was that of two
men who can look direct into any eye.
“I 'lowed it would astonish ye,” went
on Anse. “Back of the new school
house that's still full of shavin’s an’
loose timber there's a little stretch of
dry woods that comes right down to
the back door. Somebody has done
laid a trail of shavin’s an’ leaves in
the brush there an’ soaked ’em with
coal-oil. Some feller aims to burn
down that schoolhouse tonight.”
"Did ye tell Miss Holland?” demand
ed Milt in a voice of deep anxiety.
"No, I ain’t named it to her.” Bad
Anse said with seeming indifference
in his face, at which the lad’s blood
boiled.
"Does ye aim ter set hyar an' let her
place git burnt up?” he snapped out
wrathfully. “Because if ye does, I
don't.”
Anse Havey laughed.
“Well, no,” he replied; “I didn’t aim
to do that.”
Suddenly he rose.
“What I did aim to do, Milt, was
this: I aimed to go down there tonight
with enough fellers to handle either
the fire or whoever starts it. I aimed
to see who was doin’ a trick like that.
Will you go with me?”
“Me?” echoed Milt in astonishment.
This idea of the two factions acting in
consort was a decided innovation. It
might be a trap. Suddenly the boy de
manded: “Why don’t ye ask pap?"
“I don’t ask your pap nothing.” In
Havey’s reply was a quick and trucu
lent snap that rarely came into his
voice. “I’m askin’ you, an’ you can
take my proposition or leave it. That
house-burner is goin’ to die. If he’s one
of my people I want to know it. If he’s
one of your people you ought to feel
the same way. Will you go with me?"
The boy considered the proposal for
a time in silence. Dawn would be in
danger! At last he said gravely:
“Hit sounds like a fair proposition.
I’ll go along with ye, an’ meantime I’ll
keep my own counsel.”
CHAPTER XV.
Anse Havey had been looking ahead.
When old Milt McBriar had said
“Them Haveys 'lows thet I’d cross hell
on a rotten plank ter do ’em injury”
he had shot close to the mark. Bad
Anse knew that the quiet-visaged old
murder lord could no more free himself
from guile and deceit than the rattler
can separate itself from the poison
which impregnates its fangs and na
ture.
When he had taken Milt’s hand, seal
ing the truce, he had not been be
guiled, but realized that the compact
was only strategy and was totally in
sincere. Yet in Young Milt he saw
possibilities. He was accustomed to
rely on his own judgment, and he rec
ognized a clean and sterling strain in
the younger McBriar.
He hated the breed with a hatred
that was flesh of his flesh and bone of
his bone, but with an eye of prophecy
he foresaw the day when a disrupted
mountain community muBt fall asun
der unless native sons could unite
against the conquest of lowland greed.
He could never trust Old Milt, but he
hoped that he and Young Milt, who
would some day succeed to his fa
ther’s authority, might stand together
in that inevitable crisis.
This idea had for a long time been
vaguely taking shape in his mind, and
when he met Young Milt in the woods
and proposed uniting to save Juanita’s
school he was laying the cornerstone
for that future alliance.
At sunset Young Milt came, and he
came without having spoken of his
purpose at home. The night, was sharp
and moonless, with no light save that
which came from the coldly glittering
stars, and Anse and Young Milt
crouched for hours, knee to knee in the
dead thickets, keeping watch.
At last they both saw a creeping fig
ure which was only a vague sbadow
moving among shadows, and they
peered with straining eyes and raised
rifles. But the shadow fell very still,
and since it was only by its movement
that they could detect it, they waited
in vain.
What hint of being watched was
given out no or.e could say. The woods
were quiet, and the two kneeling fig
ures in the laurel made no sound. The
other men, waiting at their separated
posts, were equally invisible and noise
less, but some intangible premonition
had come to the shadow which had
lost itself in the impenetrable black
ness and began its retreat with Its ob
ject unaccomplished.
Young Milt went back to his house
in the cold mists of dawn. No shot had
been fired, no face recognized, but the
Havey and the McBriar both knew
that the school had been saved by
their joint vigilance.
Some days later the news of that
night watch leaked through to Jerry
Everson, who bore the tidings to Juan
ita, and she wrote a note to Anse Ha
vey asking him to come over and let
hex express her thanks in person.
The mail rider brought her a b'ief
reply penned in a hand of copybook
care.
I don't take any credit. I only did what
any other man would do. and young Milt
McBriar did as much as I did. Thank
him if you want to. It would only be
awkward for me to come over tlic-re.
Respectfully. ANSE HAVEY.
Old Milt .McBriar heard of his son's
part in the watching of the school and
brooded blackly as he gnawed at the
stem of his pipe, but he said nothing.
The boy had been sent away to college
and had had every advantage. Now
he had unwittingly but none the less
surely, turned his rifle on one of his
father's hirelings bent on his father's
work, for the oil-soaked kindling had
been laid at Old Milt's command.
The thing did not tend to make the
leader of the McBriars partial to the
innovations from down below.
One day, when Juanita went down to
the post office, which nestled unob
trusively behind the single counter of
the shack store at the gap, she found
a letter directed in a hand which set
her heart beating and revived many
old memories.
She climbed to the crest, sat down
updar the poplar, and began to read
the letter from the man she had sent
away.
He said that he had made a sincere
effort to reconcile himself to her deci
sion which exiled him. The effort had
failed. He had been to the Mediter
ranean and the East. His letter con
cluded:
Can you not find it in your heart to be
touched by my devotion Not only happi
ness, but peace dwells where you are,
and I am coming to you.
Do not forbid me. for I am coming any
way. I am coming because X must; be
cause I love you.
She sat for a long time gazing off at
the distances and shivered a little in
the bite of the raw air. Then she
looked up and sawT a figure at her side.
It was Bad Anse Havey.
He bowed and stripped off his coat,
which, without asking permission, he
threw around her shivering shoulders.
"I didn't aim to intrude on ye,” he
said slowly. “I didn’t know ye was up
here. Do ye come often?”
“Very often,” she answered, folding
the letter and putting it back into its
envelope. “When I first came to the
Widow Everson’s I discovered this
tree, and it seemed to beckon to me to
come up. Look!” She rose and point
ed off with a gauntleted hand. “I can
stand here and see the fortifications of
my two enemies. There is your place
and there is Milt McBriar’s.”
She smiled with unconscious arch
ness. “But I’m not going to let you be
my enemy any more,” she went on.
“I’ve decided that you have got to be
my friend, whether you want to be or
not—and what 1 decide upon must be.”
Bad Anse Havey stood looking into
her eyes with the disconcerting steadi
ness of gaze that she always found it
difficult to sustain, but his only re
sponse was a sober "I’m obleeged to
ye.”
Perhaps that letter, with its old re
minders had brought back a little of
the old self’s innocent coquetry. She
stood with her gloved hands in the
deep pockets of her sweater jacket
with his coat hanging from her shoul
ders. About her deep-violet eyes and
sensitive lips lurked a subtle appeal
for friendship—perhaps, though she
did not know it—for love.
“I have behaved abominably to you,
Mr. Havey,” she confessed. "It’s nat
ural that you should refuse me forgive
ness.” For a moment her eyes danced
and she looked up, challengingly, into
his face. “But it’s natural, too, that I
should refuse to let you refuse. We
are going to be friends. I am going to
smash your old feud to splinters and
I’m going to beat you, and just the
same we are going to be friends.”
Again his reply was brief.
“I’m obleeged to ye.”
“You have been very good to me.”
she went on, and the note of banter
left her voice; "and you refused to let
me thank you.”
For a moment he was silent, then he
replied awkwardly: “I reckon it’s pret
ty easy to be good to you.” After that
she heard him saying in a very soft
voice:
“One of the first things I remembers
is being fo'tcbed up here by mammy
when I was a spindlin’ little chap. She
used to bring me up here and tell me
Indian stories. Sometimes my pappy
came with us. but mostly it was just
my mammy an’ me.”
“Your father was a soldier, wasn’t
he?” she asked.
“Yes. He was a captain in Morgan’s
command. When the war ended he
come on back here an’ relapsed. I
reckon I’d oughter be right smart
ashamed of that, but somehow I’m toll
able proud of it. He ’lowed that what
was good enough for his folks was
good enough for him—"
He broke off suddenly and a smile
came to his face; a remarkably naive
and winning smile, the girl thought
Striking an attitude, he added in a
tone of mock seriousness and perfect
lowland English, without a trace of
FROM ALL PARTS
There are 20,000 kinds of buterflies.
Cats were domesticated in Egypt ad
early as 1600 B. C.
One species of white ant produces
86,400 eggs a day.
Shakespeare makes 19 allusions to
boots, 32 to shoes .and seven to slip
pers and pumps.
Men in England generally marry
between the ages of twenty-nine and
thirty; women between the ages of
twenty-six and twenty-seven.
Japanese banks recently lowered in
terest rates.
Mount Sangay, in South America,
has been in constant eruption since
1728.
The trouble which a wealthy resi
dent of British Columbia encountered
at Ellis Island because he limped, the
result of rheumatism, suggests the
problem this country will have when
the war is over. What will be done
with noncitizens who have previously
been in the United States if they try
to return as cripples?
dialect: "I beg your pardon, Miss Hol
land. I mean that what was sufficient
ly good for his environment appeared
adequate to him.”
The girl’s laughter pealed out iD the
cool air, and she said with an after
note of surprise: “Why, Mr. Havey,
you didn’t speak like a mountain man
then. I thought 1 was listening to a
’furriner.’ ”
He nodded his head and the smile
died from his lips. Into his eyes came
the look of steady resolve which was
willing to fight for an idea.
“I just did that to show ye that I
could. If I wanted to, I reckon I could
talk as good English as you. 1 reckon
ye won’t hardly hear me do it no
more.”
“But why?” she inquired in perplex
ity.
“I reckon it sounds kinder rough an’
ign’rant to ye, this mountain speech.
Well, to me it’s music. It’s the
language of my own people an' my own
hills. I loves it. It don't make no
diff’rence to me that it's bad grammar.
Young Milt Went Back to His House
in the Cold Mists of Dawn.
Birds don't sing so sweet when ye
teaches ’em new tunes. To my ears
the talk of down below is hard an’ un
natural. I don't like the ways nor the
speech of the flat countries. I’ll have
none of it. Besides, I belongs here, an’
if I didn’t talk like they do my people
wouldn't trust me.” He paused a mo
ment, then added: “I’d hate to have
my people not trust me. $o if ye don’t
mind, I reckon I’ll go on talkin’ as I
learnt to talk.”
She nodded her head. “I see," she
said quietly.
"What do ye aim to call this school?”
he asked suddenly.
"Why, I thought I'd call it the Hol
land school,” she answered, and when
he shook his head and said "Don’t do
it,” she colored.
"I didn’t mean to name it for my
self, of course,” she explained. “I
wanted to call it after my grandfather.
He always wanted to do something for
education here in the Kentucky hills.”
”1 didn’t mean to find no fault with
the name of Holland,” he told her
gravely. “That's as good a name as
any. But don’t call it a school. Call
it a college.”
“But,” she demurred, “it’s not going
to be a college. It’s just a school.”
Again the boyish smile came to his
face and seemed to erase ten years
from his age. His manner of speech
made her feel that they were sharing
a secret.
“That don’t make any difference,”
he assured her. “Mountain folks are
all mighty proud an' touchy. I
shouldn’t be astonished if some gray
haired folks came to study the primer.
They'll come to college all right, but
it wouldn’t hardly be dignified to go to
school. If you want to get ’e” ye must
needs call it a college."
The girl looked at him again and
said in a soft voice: “You are always
teaching me things I ought to know.
Thank you.”
Juanita stood as he left her and
watched him striding down the slope.
On his part he went back to his house
and found it suddenly dark and cheer
less and unsatisfying.
Into the soul of Bad Anse Havey had
come a new dement, and the prophet
which was in him could see a new
menace; a necessity for curbing the
grip of this new dream which might
easily outgrow all his other dreams
and bring torture to his heart. Here
was a woman of fine fiber and delicate
culture in whose eyes he might at best
be an interesting barbarian. Between
them lay all the impassable barriers
that quarantined the tangled coves of
the mountains from the valleys of
the rich lowlands. Between their lives
and viewpoints lay the same irrecon
cilable differences.
And yet her image was haunting him
as he went his way, and in his heart
was awakening an ache and a rap
ture.
On several of her buildings now the
hammers were busy shingling the
roofs. Her influence grew and spread
among the simple folk to whom she
was unostentatiously ministering—an
influence with which the old order
must some day reckon.
Anse Havey set his face against
crossing her threshold with much the
same resolution that Ulysses stuffed
his ears against the siren song—and
yet with remarkable frequency they
climbed at the same time from oppo
site directions and met by the poplar
tree on the ridge.
"It’s the wrong notion.” he told hei
obstinately, when her enthusiasm
broke from her. “It’s teachin' things
that’s goin’ ter make the children
ashamed of their cabins an’ their folks,
it’s goin’ ter make ’em want things ye
can’t hardly give ’em.
“Go to any cabin in these hills an’
ye’ll find the pinch of poverty, but ye
won’t tiud shame for that poverty in
none of ’em We ain’t got so many
virtfies here maybe, but we’ve got a
few. We can wear aur privations like
a uniform that we ain’t ashamed of—
yes, an’ make a kind of virtue out of
it.”
“I’m not out of sympathy with that,”
she argued; "I think it’s splendid.”
“All right,” he answered; “but after
ye’ve taught ’em a few things they
won’t think it’s splendid. Ye’ll breed
discontent an’ then ye’ll go away, aa’
all ye’ll have done will be to have
knocked their one simple virtue down
'round their ears.”
“How many times do I have to tell
you I’m not going away?” demanded
the girl hotly. “Just watch me.”
Again he shook his head, and into
his eyes came a look of sudden pain.
“I^reckon ye'll go,” he said. “All good
things go. The birds quit when winter
comes an’ the flowers go.”
So, in an impersonal way, they kept
up their semblance of a duel and
mocked each other.
CHAPTER XVI.
In an office which overlooks the gray
stone courthouse in Louisville sat a
youngish man of somewhat engaging
countenance. In the small anteroom
of his sanctum was a young woman
who hammered industriously on a type
writer and told most of the visitors
who called that Mr. Trevor was out.
That was because most of those who
came bore about them the unmistak
able hall-mark of creditors. Mr. Tre
vor’s list of creditors would have madu
as long a scroll as his list of business
activities.
Yet for all these cares Mr. Trevor
was just now sitting with his tan
shoes propped on his broad desk, and
his face was untroubled. He was one
of these interesting gentlemen who
give a touch of color to the monotony
of humdrum life. Air. Trevor was a
soldier of fortune who sold not his
sword, but the very keen and flexible
blade of his resourceful brain.
Roger Aialcolm of Philadelphia knew
him only as the pleasant chance ac
quaintance of an evening spent in a
New York club.
He had impressed the Easterner as
a most fascinating fellow who seemed
to have engaged in large enterprises
here and there over the face of the
globe. So when Mr. Aialcolm present
ed his card in the office anteroom the
young woman at the machine gave him
one favoring glance and did not say
Mr. Trevor was out.
“So you are going to penetrate the
wilds of the Cumberlands, are you?’
inquired Air. Trevor in his pleasing
voice, as he grasped his visitor’s hand
“Tell me just where you mean to go
and I'll tell you how to do it with the
least difficulty. The least difficult down
there is plenty.”
“Aly objective,” replied Air. Malcolm,
"is a place at the headwaters of a
creek called Tribulation, some thirty
miles from a town called Peril.”
“I know the places—and theii
names fit them. I’d offer to go with
you, but I'm afraid I wouldn’t prove a
benefit to you. I’m non grata with Bad
Anse Havey, Esquire, and Mr. .Milton
McBriar, who are the local dictators.’’
Air. Aialcolm laughed.
“In passing," he said. “I dropped in
to talk over the coal development
proposition which you said would in
terest me.”
Air. Trevor reached into his desk
and brought out several maps.
"The tentacles of the railroads are
reaching in here and there,” he began
with the promoter's suave ease of man
ner. “It is a region which enterprise
can no longer afford to neglect, and
the best field of all is as yet virgin and
antoucbed."
“Why did you drop the enterprise
yourself?” inquired his visitor.
“I didn’t have the capital to swing
it. Of course, if it interests you and
your associates it can be put
through.”
Aialcolm nodded. “I am going pri
manly by way of making a visit," he
said. “I meant to go before you roused
my interest in your proposition, and it
bccurred to me that I might combine
business with pleasure.”
The promoter looked up with a shade
bf surprise.
“You have friends out there in that
tlod-forsaken tangle?” he inquired
‘God help them!”
"A lady whom I have known for a
long while is establishing a school
there.”
With the mention of the lady Mai
colm’s voice took on an uucommunica
live note, and Mr. Trevor at once
changed the topic to coal and timber
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Solomon as Naturalist.
There is an odd reluctance upon
the part of many people to go to the
ant. the water-bug, the beetle and oth
er "invertebrate" or backboneless
creatures, to consider their ways and
be wise, bolomon was a learned nat
uralist of his day and perhaps the
first animal behaviorist of all time.
Not alone ants and bees taught him
much, but all insects, beasts of the
Held and birds of the air contributed
to his wisdom. If Solomon were alive
today, he would more than glory In
the domain of experimental research
Into the behavior of the lower crea
tures. He would no doubt write a
iown-to-date volume of proverbs
rounded upon the learning abilities,
the memory and the behavior in gen
eral of fleas, lice, flies, gnats and
other insects.
CONDENSATIONS
Greece has 5,000,000 people.
Snails have no sense of sight.
Japan is producing artificial coffee.
Toronto last year collected $10,437,
000 in taxes. *
Earthquakes are most severe where
they are most frequent.
The sun gives 600,000 times the
light that a full moon does.
Nearly 3,000 tons of copper were
used in building the “ocean-to-ocean"
telephone.
An Italian university professor
claims to have found radium in or
dinary dew.
The development of water power in
Norway has made electricity cheaper
than steam in that country.
Britain’s big naval guns are fitted
with telescopes, to enable the gunner
to have a clear view of the object to
be hit
A man-of-war’s gunroom is so called
merely because the gunners used to
take care of it. It is the room where
Junior officers pass spare time.
HAVE YOU
A CHILD?
Many women long for children, but because of
Borne curable physical derangement are deprived
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The women whose names follow were restored
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Cut out cathartics and purgatives. They arc
brutal, harsh, unnecessary. T
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RECOGNIZED DEBT TO MICE
Mr. Growcher Grateful That He Didn't
Have to Partake of the
Welch Rabbit.
"Yep,” said Mr. Growcher; "nothing
was made in vain. Everything that
earth produces may serve some userul
purpose, if you can only find out what
it is. There is a whole lot to think
about in that story of the mouse
who gnawed the net for the captured
lion.”
“Mebbe there is,” replied his wife.
“But I’m willing to bet that was the
only kind and considerate mouse
known to the animal kingdom.”
"You are wrong. Have you forgot
ten that Welsh rabbit party we at
tended last night?”
"Yes. But there wasn’t any Welsh
rabbit?”
"And as a result we are all comfort
able and happy today instead of be
ing miserable and dyspeptic. And we
owe it all to the fact that a few kind
hearted mice sneaked around during
the afternon and ate up the cheese.”
It Surely Is.
“Pa, what Is affection?”
"AHection, my boy, is carrying
three extra tires on an automobile
that never gets more than four blocks
away from a garage.”—Detroit Free
Press.
Dr. Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets are the
original little liver pills put up 40 years
ago. They regulate liver and bowels.—Adv.
If you want to see a light eater
suddenly acquire an appetite ask him
to lunch with you.
^^——
Rest Those Worn Nerves
"Every
Picture
Telle a
Story"
JO.lt it
I. 7*\
Don't give op. When you feel all
unstarung; when family cares seem too
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