meAUCTION BLOCK
A NOVEL or NEW YORIC LITIS (
^REX BEACrt t T “47^”
'ILLUSTRATIONS 4^rPARKER.
a Here we have the tale of a §j
| young woman who is thrust by ||
I her greedy and lazy family Into p
§a world of human vultures to ||j
win a fortune with her personal
ei charms. But she surprises them [gj
| all with her fine traits of char- K.
3 acter. Her struggles and con- pj
stant danger are frightening, i§j
but she brings help and happi- ij
£ ness to men and women who jg
| need it much. This is a story ^
g with strong pulse.
S M
CHAPTER I.
Peter Knight flung himself into the
decrepit armchair beside the center
table and growled:
“Isn’t that just my luck? And me a
Democrat for twenty years. There’s
nothing in politics, Jimmy.”
His son James smiled crookedly,
with a languid tolerance bespeaking
amusement and contempt.
"Politics is all right, provided you’re
a good picker,” he said, with all the as
surance of twenty-two. “but you fell
off the wrong side of the fence, and
you’re sore. These country towns al
ways go in for the reform stuff every
so often. If you’d listen to me and—”
“We’re Going to Make a Change.”
His father interrupted harshly;
“Now, cut that out. I don't want to
go to New York, and I won’t.” Peter
ICnight tried to look forceful, hut the
expression did not fit his weak, com
placent features. When he had suc
ceeded in fixing a look of determina
tion upon his countenance the result
was an artificial scowl and a palpably
false pout Wearing such a front, he
continued: “When I say ‘no’ I mean It,
and the subjec' is closed. I like Vale.
I know everybody here, and everybody
knows me.”
“That’s why it’s time to move,” said
Jim, with another unpleasant curl of
his lip. “As long as they didn’t know
you you got past. But you’ll never
hold another office.”
“Indeed! My record’s open to in
spection. I made the best sheriff in—”
“Two years. Don’t kid yourself, pa.
You got into the mud, but you didn’t
go deep enough to find the frogs. Fo
garty got his, didn’t he?”
Mr. Knight breathed deep with in
dignation.
“Senator Fogarty is my good friend.
I won’t let you question his honor, al
though you do presume to question
mine.”
“Of course he’s your friend; that’s
why he’s fixed you for this New York
job.”
“ ’Department of water supply, gas
and electricity,’ ” sneered Peter. “It
sounds good, but the salary is fifteen
hundred a year. A clerk—at my age!”
“Say, d’you suppose Tammany men
live on their salaries?” Jimmie in
quired. “Wake up! This is your
chance to horn into the real herd. In
New York politics is a vocation; up
here it’s a vacation—everybody tries
It once, like music lessons. If you’d
been hooked up witii Tammany instead
of the state machine you'd have been
taken care of.”
At this juncture Mrs. Knight, hav
ing finished the supper dishes and set
her bread to rise, entered the shoddy
parlor. Jim turned to her, shrugging
bis shoulders with an air of washing
his hands of a disagreeable subject.
“Pa’s weakened again,” he explained.
“He won’t go.”
“Me, a clerk—at my age!” mumbled
Peter.
His wife spoke with brief conelusive
ness.
“I wrote and thanked Senator Fo
garty for his offer and told him you’d
accept.”
“You—what?” Peter was dumfound
ed.
“Yes,’’-•■Mrs. Knight seemed oblivi
ous of his wrath—“we’re going to
make a change.”
Mrs. Knight was a large woman well
advanced beyond that indefinite turn
ing point of middle age; in her unat
tractive face was none of the easy
good nature so unmistakably stamped
upon Iyer husband’s. Peter J., under
easy living had grayed and fattened;
what had once been a measure of good
looks was hidden now behind a flabby,
indefinite mediocrity which an unusual
carefulness in dress could not disguise.
His wife was of a totally different
stamp, showing evidence of unusual
force. Her thin lips, her clean-cut nose
heiokeued purpose; a pair of alert, un
pleasant eyes spoke of a mental activ
---- -- ■ ■ ■ - . ...... , a. ’ vt'UM
ity that was entirely lacking in her
mate, and she was generally recog
nized as the source of what little
prominence he had attained.
“Yes. we're going to make a change."
she repeated. “I’m glad, too, for I’nt
tired of housework.”
“You dou't have to do your owu
work. There’s Lorelei to help.”
“She's too pretty.” said the mother.
“You dou't realize it: none of us do.
hut—she's beautiful. Where she gets
her good looks from I don’t know.”
“What’s the difference? It won't
hurt her to wash dishes. She wouldn’t
have to koep it up forever, anyhow,
she can have any fellow In the county.”
Mrs. Knight began slowly, musingly:
“You nped some plain talk Peter. I
don't often tell you just what I think,
but I'm going to now. You’re past
fifty: you've spent twenty years put
tering around at politics, and what
have you got to show for it? Nothing.
The reformers are in at last, and
you're out for good. You had your
chance and you missed it. You’re
little, Peter; you know it, and so does
the party.”
The object of this address swelled
pompously; his cheeks deepened in hue
and distended; but while he was sum
moning words for a defense bis wife
ran on evenly;
“The party used you just as long as
you could deliver something, but you’re
down and out now, and they've tbrowu
you over. Fogarty offers to pay his
debt, and I’m not going to refuse his
help.”
“I suppose you think yon could have
done better if you'd been in my place.”
Peter grumbled. He s-*s angry, yet;
the undeniable truth of his wife’s
words struck homt. “That’s the wom
an of it. You kirt because we’re poor,
and then want me to take a fifteen-bun
dred-dollar job.”
“Bother the salary! It will keep ns
going as long as necessary.”
“Eh?” Mr. Knight looked blank.
“Pm thinking of Lorelei. She's go
ing to give us our chance.”
‘•Lorelei?
“Yes. You wonder why I’ve never
let her spoil her hands—why I've
scrimped to give her pretty clothes,
and taught her to take care of her
figure, and made her go out with young
people. Well, I knew what I was do
ing: it was part of her schooling. She’s
old enough now: and she has every
thing that any girl ever had. so far as
looks go. She’s going to do for us
what you never have been and never
will be able to do, Peter Knight. She’s
going to make us rich. But she can’t
do it in Vale.”
“Ma’s right,” declared James. “New
York's the place for pretty- women: the
town is full of them.”
“If it’s full of pretty women, what
chance has she got?” queried Peter.
“She can’t break into society on my
fifteen hundred—”
“She won’t need to. She can go on
the stage.”
“Good Lord! What makes you think
she can act?”
“Do yon remember that Miss Donald
who stopped at Myrtle Lodge last
summer? She’s an actress.”
“No!” Mr. Knight was amazed.
“She told me a good deal about the
show business. She said Lorelei
wouldn’t have the least bit of trouble
getting a position. She gave me a note
to a manager, too, and I sent him Lore
lei's photograph. He wrote right back
that he'd give her a place.”
“Really?"
“Yes: lie’s looking for pretty girls
with good figures. His name is Berg
man."
Jim broke in eagerVy. "You’ve heard
of Bergman’s Revues, pa. We saw one
last summer, remember? Bergman’s a
big fellow.”
“That show? Why, that was—rot
ten. It Isn’t a very decent life, either.'’
“Don't worry about sis,” advised
Jim. "She can tvke care of herself,
and she’ll grab a millionaire sure—
with her looks. Other girls are doing
it every day—why not her? Ma's got
tht? right idea.”
Impassively Mrs. Knight resumed
her argument. “New York is where
the money is—:and the women that go
with money. It’s the market place.
The stage advertises a pretty girl and
gives her chances to meet rich men.
Here in Vale there’s nobody with
money, and, besides, people know us.
The Stevens girls have been nasty to
Lorelei all winter, and sbe’s never in
vited to the golf-club dances any
more.”
At this intelligence Mr. Knight burst
fortli indignantly:
“They're putting on a lot of airs
since the interurban went through: but
Ben Stevens forgets who helped him
get the franchise. I could tell a lot
of things—”
“Bergman writes.” continued Mrs.
Knight, “that Lorelei wouldu’t have
to gt> on the road at all If she didn't
care to. The real pretty show-girls
stay right in New York.”
Jim added another word. “She's the
best asset we’ve got, pa. and if we
all work together we’ll land her in the
money, sure.”
Peter Knight pinched his full, red
lips into a pucker aud stared specula
tively at his wife. It was not often
that she openly showed her hand to
him.
“Have you talked to her about it?”
“A little. She’ll do anything we ask.
She’s a good girl that way.”
The three were still buried in discus
sion when Lorelei appeared at the
door.
“I’m going over to Mabel’s,” she
paused a moment to say. “I’ll be back
early, mother.”
In Peter Knight’s eyes, as he gazed
at his daughter, there was something
akin to shame; but Jim evinced only a
hard, calculating appraisal. Both men
Inwardly acknowledged that the moth
er had spoken less than half the truth,
for the girl was extravagantly, be
witchingiy attractive. Her face and
form would have been noticeable any
where and under any circumstances:
but now, in contrast with the unmodi
fied homeliness of her parents and
brother her comeliness was almost
startling. The others seemed to har
monize with their drab surroundings,
with tile dull, unattractive house and
its furnishings, hut Lorelei was in vio
lent opposition to everything about her.
She wore her beauty unconsciously,
too. as a princess wears the purple of
her rank. Neither in speech nor in
look did she show a trace of her fa
ther's fatuous commonplaceness, and
she gave no !*ign of her mother's coldly
calculating disposition. Equally the
girl differed from her brother, for Jim
was anemic, underdeveloped, sallow:
his only mark of distinction being his
bright and impudent eye, while she
was full-blooded, healthy and clean.
Splendidly distinctive, from her crown
of warm amber hair to her shapely,
slender feet. It seemed that ail the
hopes, ali the aspirations, ail the long
ings of bygone generations of Knights
had flowered In her. As muddy waters
purify themselves in running, so had
the Knight blood, coming through un
pleasant channels, finally clarified and
sweetened itself in this girl.
In the doorway she hesitated an in
stant, favoring the group with tier
shadowy, impersonal smile. In her
gaze there was a faint inquiry, for it
was plain that she had interrupted a
serious discussion. She came forward
and rested a hand upon her father's
thinly haired bullet bead. Peter
reached up and took it in his own
moist palm.
“We were just talking about you,”
he said.
“Yes?” The smile remained as the
girl's touch lingered.
“Your ma thinks I'd better accept
that New York offer on your account.”
“On mine? I don’t understand.”
I’eter stroked the hand in his clasp,
and his weak, upturned face was
wrinkled with apprehension. “She
thinks you should see the world and—
make something of yourself.”
"That would be nice.” Lorelei’s lips
were still parted as she turned toward
her mother iu some bewilderment.
“You’d like the city, wouldn’t you?"
Mrs. Knight iuquired.
“Why. yes: I suppose so.”
“We’re poor—poorer than we’ve ever
been. Jim will have to work, and so
will you."
“I’ll do what I can. of course: but—
I don’t know how to do anything. I’m
afraid I won’t be much help at first.”
“We’ll see to that. Nowt, run along,
dearie.”
When she had gone Peter gave a
grunt of conviction.
“She is pretty." he acknowledged;
“pretty as a picture, and you certainly
dress her well. She’d ought to make
a good actress.”
Jim echoed him enthusiastically.
“Pretty? I'll bet Bernhardt’s got
nothing on her for looks. She'll have
a brownstone hut on Fifth avenue and
an airtight limousine one of these days,
see if site don’t.”
“When do you plan to leave?” fal
tered the father.
Mrs. Knight answered with some
satisfaction: “Rehearsals commence in
May.”
CHAPTER II.
Mr. Campbell Pope was a cynic. Fie
had cultivated a superb contempt for
those beliefs which other people cher
ish. Most men attain success through
love of their work: Mr. I’ope had be
come an eminent critic because of his
hatred for the drama and all things
dramatic. Nor was he any more enam
ored of journalism. beliiR in truth by
I---—n
“We Were Just Talking About You,"
He Said.
nature bucolic, but after trying many
occupations and falling in all of them
he had returned to his desk after each
excursion into other fields. First-night
'audiences knew him now, and had
come to look for his thin, sharp fea
tures. . His shapeless, wrinkled suit,
that resembled a sleeping bag; his flan
nel shirt, always tieless and frequently
collarless, were considered attributes
of genius; and, finding New York to be
amazingly gullible, he took a certain
delight in accentuating his eccentrici
ties. At especially prominent pre
mieres he affected a sweater under
neath his coat, but that was his nearest
approach to formal evening dress.
Further concession to fashion he made
none.
Owing to the dearth of new produc
tions this summer. Pope had under
taken a series of magazine articles de
scriptive of the reigning theatrical
beauties, and, while he detested wom
en in general and the painted favorites
of Broadway in particular, be had
forced himself to write the common
laudatory stuff which the public de
manded. Only once had he given free
rein to his inclinations and written
with a poisoned pen. Tonight, how
ever. as he entived the stage door of
Bergman’s Circuit theater, it was with
a different intent.
Kegan, the stage-door tender, better
known since his vaudeville days as
“The Judge,” answered his greeting
with a lugubrious shake of a bald head.
“I’m a sick man, Mr. Pope. Same
old trouble.”
“M-iu-rn. Kidneys, isn’t it?”
“No. Rheumatism. I’m a beehive
swarmin’ with pains.” The Judge
leaned forward, and a strong odor of
whisky enveloped the cellar. “Could
you slip me four bits for some lini
ment?”
The critic smiled. “There's a dollar.
Regan. Try Scotch for a change. It's
better for you than these cheap blends.
And don't breathe toward a lamp, or
you’ll ignite.”
The Judge laughed wheezingly. “I
do take a drop now and then. See
here, you know all the managers, Mr.
Pope. Can't you find a job for Lottie
Devine?”
“Lottie Devine. Why, she's your
wife, isn’t she? She’s a trifle old. I’m
afraid."
“Huh! She wigs up a lot better'n
some of the squabs in this troupe. Be
lieve me, she'd fit any chorus.”
“Why don’t you ask Bergman?”
Mr. Regan shook his hairless head.
“He's dippy on 'types.’ This show’s
full of 'em: real blondes, real brunettes,
bold and dashin’ ones, tall and state
lies. blushers, shrinkers. laughers, and
sadliugs. He won’t stand for make-up:
he wants ’em with the dew on. They’ve
got to look natural for Bergman. That’s
some of ’em now.” He nodded toward
a group of young, fresh-cheeked girls
who had entered the stage door and
were hurrying down the hall.
“I’ve come to interview one of Rerg
man's ‘types:’ that new beauty. Miss
Knight. Is she here yet?”
“Sure; her and the back-drop, too.
She carries the old woman for scen
ery." Mr. Regan took the caller’s card
and shuffled away, leaving Pope to
watch the stream of performers as
they entered and made for their quar
ters. There were many women in the
number, and ail of them were pretty.
Most of them were overdressed in the
extremes of fashion: a few quietly
garbed ladies and gentlemen entered
the lower dressing rooms reserved for
the principals.
Meanwhile he exchanged greetings
with the star—a clear-eyed man with
the face of a scholar and the limbs of
an athlete. The latter had studied for
the law: he had the drollest legs in the
business, and bis salary exceeded that
of Supreme court justice. They were
talking when Mr. Regan returned to
tell the interviewer that he would be
received.
Pope followed to the next floor and
entered a brightly lighted, overheated
dressing room, where Lorelei and her
mother were waiting. It was a glar
ing. stuffy cubbyhole ventilated by
means of a hall door and n tiny win
dow opening from the lavatory at the
rear. Along the sides ran mirrors, be
neath which was fixed a wide make-up
shelf. One section of the wall was de
voted to telegraph and cable forms,
bearing messages of felicitation at the
opening of “The Revue of 1013.” A
zoologist would have found the display
uninteresting: but a society reporter
would have reveled in the names—and
especially in the sentiments—inscribed
upon the yellow sheets. Some were ad
dressed to Lorelei Knight, others to
Lilas Lynn, her roommate.
Pope found Lorelei completely
dressed, in expectation of his arrival.
She wore the white and stiver first-act
costume of the Fairy Princess. Both
she and her mother were plainly non
plused at the appearance of their
caller; but Mrs. Knight recovered
quickly from the shock and said agree
ably:
"Lorelei was frightened to death at
your message yesterday. She was al
most afraid to let you interview her
after what you wrote about Adoree
Demorest.”
Pope shrugged. “Your daughter is
altogether different to the star of the
Palace Garden, Mrs. Knight. Demo
rest trades openly upon her notoriety
and—I don’t like had women. New
York never would have taken her up
if she hadn't advertised as the wicked
est woman in Europe, for she can nei
ther act, sing nor dance. However,
she’s become the rage, so I had to in
clude her in rny series of articles. Now.
Miss Knight has made a legitimate
success as far as she has gone.”
He turned to the girl herself, who
was smiling at him as she had smiled
since tiis entrance. He did not wonder
at the prominence her beauty had
brought her. for even at this close
range her make-up could not disguise
her loveliness. The lily had been
painted, to he sure, but the sacrilege
was not too noticeable; the lips were
glaringly red now. but the expression
was none the less sweet and friendly.
“There's nothing ‘legitimate’ about
musical shows.” she told him. in reply
to his last remark, “and I can’t act or
sing or dance as well as Miss Demo
rest.”
“Y’ou don’t need to; just let the pub
lic rest its eyes on you and it will be
satisfied—anyhow. It should be. Of
course everybody flatters you. Has
success turned your head?"
Mrs. Knight answered for her daugh
ter. “Lorelei has too much sense for
that. She succeeded easily, but she
isn't spoiled.”
Then, in response to a questiofi by
Pope. Lorelei told him something of
“Tell Me What You Think of Our
Flourishing Little City.”
her experience. “We’re up state people,
you know. Mr. Bergman was looking
for types, and I seemed to suit, so I
got an engagement at once. The news
papers began to mention me. and when
he produced this show he had the part
of the Fairy Princess written in for
me. It's really very easy, and I don't
do much except wear the gowns and
speak a few lines.”
“You’re one of the principals,” her
mother said, chidingly.
“I suppose you're ambitious?" Pope
put in.
Again the mother answered. “In
deed she is. and she's bound to suc
ceed. Of course, she hasn’t had any
experience to speak of, but there’s
more than one manager that's got his
eye on her.” The listener inwardly
cringed. "She could be starred easy,
and she will be, too, in another sea
son.”
Pope resented Mrs. Knight's share in
the conversation. He did not like the
elder woman’s face, nor her voice, nor
her manner. She impressed him as an
other theatrical type with which be
was familiar—the stage mamma. He
found himself marveling at the dis
similarity of the two women.
“Of course a famous beauty does
meet a lot of people.” he said. "Tell
me what you think of our flourishing
little city aud our New York men.”
But Lorelei raised a slender hand.
"Not for worlds. Besides, you're
making fun of me now. You are con
sidered a very dangerous person, Mr.
Pope.”
“You’re thinking of my story about
the Pemorest woman again,” he
laughed.
"Is she really as bad as you have
described her?”
“I don't know, never having met the
lady. ! wouldn't humiliate myself by i
a pe.sonal interview, so I built a story
on the Broadway gossip. Inasmuch
as she goes in for notoriety, I gave
her some of the best that I had iD
stock. Her photographer did the rest.'1
The door curtains parted, and Lila?
Lynn, a slim, black-eyed young wom
an, entered. She greeted Pope cor
dially as she removed her hat and
handed it to the woman who acted as
dresser for the two occupants of the
room.
“Pm late, as usual,” she said. “But
don’t leave on my account.” She dis
appeared into the lavatory, and
emerged a moment later in a combing
jacket. “Lorelei’s got her nerve tc
talk to yofi after the panning you gave
Deraorest,” she continued. “Aren’t
you ashamed of yourself to strike a
defenseless star?”
Pope nodded. “I am, and I’m
ashamed of my entire sex when I hear
j of them flocking to the Palace Gar
i den just to see a woman who has noth
! ing to distinguish her but a reputation
j for vileness.”
“Did you see the crown jewels—the
King’s cabocbou rubies?” Lorelei
asked.
“Only from the front. I dare say
thoy’re as counterfeit as she is.”
Miss Lynn turned, revealing a
countenance as shiny as that of an
Eskimo belle. With her war-paint only
half applied and her hair securisl close
ly to her small head, she did not in
the least resemble the dashing “count
ess” of the program.
"Oh. (hey re real enough. I got that
straight."
Campbell Pope scoffed.
“Isn't it true about the king of Sel
dovia? Didn’t she wreck his throne?”
eagerly queried Mrs. Knight.
“I never met the king, and l haven’t
examined his throne. But, you know,
kings can do no wrong, and thrones
are easily mended.”
But Mrs. Knight was insistent: hei
eyes glittered, her sharp nose was
thrust forward inquisitively. “They
say she draws two thousand a week,
and won’t go to supper with a man fot
less than five hundred dollars. She
says if fellows want to be seen in
public with her they’ll have to pay for
it. and she’s right. Of course she’s ter
ribly bad. but you must admit she’s
done mighty well for herself.”
"We’ll have a chance to see her to
night.” announced Lilas. “Mr. Ham
nion is giving a big supper to some of
his friends and we’re going—Lorele'
and I. Demorest is down for hei
’Danse de Nuit.’ They say it’s the
limit.”
“Hammon. the steel man?” queried
the critic, curiously.
“Sure. There's only one Hammon.
But nix on the newspaper story; this
is a private affair.”
“Never let us speak ill of a pool
Pittsburgh millionaire,” laughed Pope.
“Scandal must never darken the sool
of that village.” He turned as Slos
son, the press agent of the show, en
tered with a bundle of photographs.
“Here are the new pictures of Lore
lei for your story, old man,” Mr. Slos
son said. “Bergmann will appreciate
the boost for one of his girls. Help
yourself to those you want. If you
need any more stuff I’ll supply it.’’
“Don’t go to the trouble,” Pope hast .
ily deprecated. “I know the story. ,
Now I'm going to leave and let Sits?
Lynn dress.”
“Don't go on my account,” urged
Lilas. “This room is like a subway i
station, and I’ve got so I could ‘change
in Bryant park at noon and never
shock a policeman.” ,
“You won’t say anything mean about ■
us, will you?” Mrs. Knight implored.
“In this business a girl’s reputation is
all she has."
“I promise.” Pope held out his >
hand to Lorelei, and as she shook it
her lips parted in her ever-ready smile ■
“Nice girl, that,” the critic remarked
as he and Slosson descended the stairs
“Which one—Lorelei, Lilas, or the
female gorilla?”
“How did she come to choose thal
for a mother?” muttered Pope.
“One of nature’s Inscrutable myste- '
ries. But wait. Have you seen
Brother .Tim?”
“No. Who’s he?”
1
A Do you believe that Campbell !j£
pj Pope, instinctively liking Lor- 3
H elei, will show her a way to [§
|Sj shake off her greedy and men- a
jjj dacious family—father, mother »
^ and con, all bloodsuckers? And §
jg do you believe he will help her jg
B to get ahead legitimately?
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
HUMAN “LEOPARDS” WIPED OUT
f *
It comes as a shock to civilized peo
ple to learn that there are cannibals
still satisfying their craving for hu
man flesh. Yet proofs have been dis
covered that such cannibals exist in
certain districts of West Africa, espe
cially in the bush regions around Si
erra Leone.
West Africa has always been the
home of superstition. Witch doctors
are believed in and wonderful powers
are attributed to silly, inanimate
things called “Ju-Jus,” “fetish,” or
“medicines.” The idea of human sac
rifice to these Ju-Jus has been respon
sible tor many murders.
Cannibalism has always existed
among the natives, but until quite re
cently it has been so secret and so
hard to get at that the British gov
ernors of the district have been baf
fled in their attempts to suppress it.
Several weird native societies were
known to exist. The most active was
the Human Leopard society, the
I members of which periodically clothed
themselves in the skins of leopards,
waylaid victims previously decided
upon and attacked them with three
pronged knives, go that the wounds
looked as if they had been made with
claws. The reason for their wearing
the skins was to deceive any possible
witness into thinking that leopards
had been responsible for their mur
ders.
The members of this awful society
were bound together by secret vows
and superstitions, which made inquir
ies difficult to conduct. The real ob
ject of their crimes was not the mere
pleasure of eating human flesh; it was
rooted in superstition and weird re
ligious beliefs.
The particular "medicine” or fetish
of the human leopards was called “bor
flrma.” This was usually a package
containing the blood of a rooster, oth
er animals' blood and fat. rice, white
of egg, and other tit-bits. It was only
regarded as really powerful when an
ointed with human blood and smeared
with human fat. Then it was sup
posed to bring riches and success to
its owner and disaster to its owner's :
enemies, but its powers evaporated pe
riodically, and so fresh victims had
to be found and killed to obtain the
blood and fat.
There seems to have been a super
stition that as human fat and blood
were good for ''borfirtna," so they
would make people more powerful.
Hence, when a victim was killed the
flesh was divided among the members
of the society for consumption.
The human leopards were volun
tarily branded by having a small piece
of flesh removed, the blood from the
wound being smeared upon the "bor
firma."
- -—-—-—J
Summer Luncheons
in a jiffy "III
Libby's splendid chefs relieve you ™ I
hot-weather cooking. Stock the *
pantry shelf with
Sliced
Dried Beef
and the other good summer
metis — including Libby's
Vienna Sausage—you'll find them
fresh and appetizing.
Libby, M9Neill &
Libby, Chicago
lllll
“Go Great Northern” and Register
at Spokane, Wenatchee, Colville,
Republic or Omak—
July 5th to 22nd inclusive.
350,000 acres of desirable agricul
tural lands open to homestead
entry. Five registration points
inducing Omak, only registration
point actually on the reservation and
reached only by the Great Northern
Railway
Low Round Trip Fares
Round Trip Homeseekers' Pares to a!!
registration points named in effect June 20th.
July 4th and July 18th. Summer Tourist Fares
to North Pacific Coast points, on sale every day.
permit stopover for registration at Spokane and
Wenatchee. Stopovers allowed enroute at Glacier
National Park either on going or return trip.
Send Now for Colville Circular 39
Fill out coupon below and mail today, for de
tailed information, map folders and booklets.
E. C. LEEDY. General Immigration Agent G. N. R,..
St. Paul. M'nn.
C. E. STONE. Panenger Traffic Mgr., 31.Paul. Minn.
E. C. LEEDY. Gen. Imm. Agt.
G. N. Ry., St. Paul. Minn.
Send Colville Opening Circu
lar 38
Name-—
Address.....__—_....
Alfalfa P',. Swoet Clover fr- f arms
► 11^ for sale and renton crop paymec-.
OULlUO J. MILUALI.. boo City, Iona
A Joy Table.
Mother made a "joy table" for her
children by sawing off the legs of a
kitchen table more than half-way up.
sc that the little ones could reach it.
Round the table, after it had been
painted green, was nailed a green
ledge of wood—to keep in the sand—
quite four inches deep, and table and
ledge alike were lined with zinc. Clean
white sand was low distributed even
ly over the table, and the children
hugely enjoyed a game of “being at
the seaside,” bringing their spades and
palls and making hillocks and water
ways on it. On other days the children
pretended that the table was a village,
or a garden, and planted It with green
things and flowers and set a church
and farmyard buildings and animals
about. The table was a success.
Censored.
"Our candidate,” said the campaign
orator, “stands squarely on his record.
His life is an open book.”
“How do you know he hasn’t torn
out some of the pages?" queried a
voice from the rear cf the hall.
Shifted Him.
“I object to coming right after the
trained baboons."
“You’re right,” said the manager,
“crowding simian acts together is al
ways a mistake.”
Terribly Hard.
“We’ll have hard luck in this place.”
“Why so?”
“Nothing but soft drinks.”
