if .' '. HI
This is a story of pioneer days in
Indiana, when courageous frontiers
men fought the redskins and the j
By SAMUEL McCOY wilderness and won vast territory j I
i (Copyright, 1916, by Bolibs-Merrill Co.)
$— -- -■ ■ ■ -—1
CHAPTER XV—Continued.
—9—
With a bound he reached the haul
•if the stream, leaped down benentl
Its friendly shelter, and ran on noise
less moccasins along the shelving
edge, back toward the quarter Iron
which tlie shot had come; if hoover
pursued, it would be better to let thi
chase pass him than to try to out
distance th? Indian runners. At las
he stopped and inch by inch crawler
up to the top of the bank until Ik
could lift his head with infinite can
tion and peer through tlie tufts o
weeds. No sound broke the stillness
For an eternity of time lie lay. clutch
lug his rifle ill readiness; but the onli
sound was the querulous calling of tin
little woodpecker, high overhead. Hi
waited . . . waited . . . waited
Fifty yards away a twig snapper
under a slow-moving foot. Davit
scarcely breathed. A head rose ubovt
a fallen giant of the forest, and a
crouching shadow flitted from tree tc
tree, nearer, nearer . . . Davit
raised his rifle ever so little •. .
He saw the face of the dread hunter
peering with quick motions of thr
head front side to side, watchful a;
ilie brown water-snake. Nearer hi
came; the garb was that of an Indian
tlie face a white man's! »David was
about to cry out with relief when thi
glittering eyes were turned full towart
him. though they failed to pierce tin
sheltering covert, nad with a sickening
horror David recognized The face 01
Suuon Girty, the renegade!
On tlie instant, David lifted his rifli
and fired full at the crouching figure.
From Girty’s lips broke the roar ol
nil infuriated animal; he staggerer
back with the impact of the shot, bu
tie did not fall nor yet did he lift hii
weapon to his shoulder; and Davit
saw that his shot had struek only tin
lock of Girty’s rifle, rendering it use
less hut leaving tlie man unharmed
With a bellow of rage, Girty boundet
toward him, swinging the broket
Weapon like a club. There was no tirnt
They Crashed Together and Splinterec
With a Shock.
to reload. David leaped to the top o'
the bank and braced himself for th<
onset. As the clubbed rifle of the out
law rose above li^s head, David swunj
his own upward to meet it. The;
crashed together *and splintered witl
n sho'dc; and in the same second, fling
lng the broken stock away, the might;
arms of Simon Girty flung themselvei
around David.
With the strength of desperation
David strove to oppose the terribli
sinews. Back and forth over th
frozen grass the two men fought lik
beasts, heaving, struggling, sturablim
over roots, locked in an embrace a
deadly as that of the cougar. But i
could not last long; David felt hi
strength ebbing under the territi
strain and his breath grew short am
gasping; when suddenly the earth gav
way beneath their feet and with a las
despairing effort David twisted him
self above ns they toppled over the lo\
bluff, and the fight was over. Girtj
fr.lling underneath, had struck his heai
upon a stone; and his arms relaxei
their hold.
David stood up, panting.
Girty lay very still. But Davi<
k'.iew that he must make sure that th
11'an was dead before he could be saf
h.'mself. lie felt in liis girdle for hi
kfiife: but it had fallen out during th
struggle. Clambering up the ban!
again, he saw it lying on the ground
and as his fingers closed upon th
handle he thought he heard a sob. H
turned liis head quickly.
‘Toinette!”
The name burst from him in th
completeness of his astonishment, 1:
the revulsion of liis despair, in hi
mighty joy, like the cry of the sot
itself.
Toinette was leaning against the lo
fioin behind which Girty had risen, ea
hausted by the effort she had made t
free herself from the thongs tha
bound her feet and hands. A sob ha
come from lips drawn in utter wear
ness and despair.
He was beside her.
“Save yourself,” she murmured faim
ly, “there are Indians coining!”
He kneeled and cut the thongs tha
bound her ankles and then those of he
wrists. As she tried to stand, sh
swayed weakly and fainted. Ther
was no time to lose: he lifted her lm
form upon bis shoulders and ran sta{
gtringly in the direction of the troopi
He could never overtake them—th
marching column and the slow-movin
wagons must be a mile away by nov
He stumbled on with desperate exei
tion. He reached the winding cree
again, laid down his unconscious but
den and dashed the icy water In To
nette's face. Her great blue eyes,
shadowed by dark circles of exhaus
; tion, opened slowly, looked at him
i blankly. “Father, help me!” she cried.
He shook tier by the shoulders.
! “Stand up! Try!” The light of con
sciousness came hack into her eyes;
' site rose tremblingly and tried to walk.
“ They found a place where the water
■ gurgled over a stony bar, ankle-deep;
civ sed it and struggled up the bank
I tin the farther side. As they reached
■ the top there came to their ears tlie
■ dreadful exultant yells of the Indians,
three hundred yards behind. David put
ltis arms around tlie girl's shoulders
and they ran on with palsied limbs.
They seemed to ire struggling on m
' that nightmare where the feet are
' leaden and the pursuers licet. Nearer
and nearer came the tierce yelping.
At last David and Toinette stood
still and looked at each other. David
' drew his knife. Site nodded, silently
praying him to deliver her with that
1 swift death from tlie tortures of tlie
savages. “Oh. God, not yet !*’ he cried;
■ and drew her on in blind haste. Twice
lie shouted, with all the strengtli of
ltis gasping lungs. Was it an echo,
; nr an answering shout that came
back? And then there came a burst
of the sweetest music in the world:
; the cheers of a score of Harrison's
men. crashing through tlie woods a
hundred yards away.
The clmse was suddenly reversed. At
tlie first shout of the backwoodsmen,
the baffled Indians turned and fled.
The rescuing party pursued them but
' a little way. firing vainly at tlie fleeing
forms dodging among the tree trunks.
Voting Geofgie Croglian, Harrison’s
aid, was in command of the little
squad. They had heard Girty’s shot/
; fired at David, and a little later, Da
vid’s shot; and had come back from
' tlie troops with all speed. Toinette
had sunk to the ground, laughing and
. sobbing; they gathered around her
l with wild hurrahs, a torrent of eager
i questions.
They bore her on their shoulders
hack to the marching men. How the
cheering ran along the line as the men
caught sight of her! General Harrison
and his staff galloped tip one by one
and shouted like boys. Old “Wash”
Johnston leaned over and kissed her
face, stained with happy tears. “I’m
old enough, my dear,” he said.
And the tnen ciieered again.
A dozen times she was obliged to
tell the story of her captivity; a dozen
times the men lifted David on their
shoulders and cheered him to the echo.
Rut through all the rejoicing and the
thanksgiving. David’s heart remained
heavy; for the breach still seemed im
possible to bridge. She, too. suffered;
tormented by a debt of gratitude due
one whose treason to his country must
forever bar him from her love.
Treason? Why was it, then, that Da
vid seemed such a hero to all his com
rades among the militiamen? Why
hiid all of them received him into their
hearts like a brother? Toinette strug
gled all through the day with the
secret which she thought so horrible.
Little by little, she came to the con
clusion that David had managed in
some way to win a pardon from Gov
ernor Harrison, before the trip to the
Prophet's camp had been begun.
She went back over the circum
I stances of that tragic meeting in Cory
don, when she and Ike had confronted
David and found the proofs of treach
ery upon him. What had happened
after she had left that scene? Per
| Imps Ike had prevailed on David to re
■ nounce his allegiance to England. Per
haps, then, he had interceded with
1 Governor Harrison in his friend’s be
r half. She pictured the stern young
, governor as saying that David’s life
must depend on his faithful service to
the territory in the future. Ike had
[ never spoken one word to her about
, David from that day on. Little by lit
, tie, as she went over each point in her
' heart, a sense that she had been
’ tricked out of her love grew on her, a
t sense that somehow she had cheated
. herself. In the sleepless hours of the
, night that followed, she felt her eyes
1 smarting with tears. What could she
, do? What could she do? The whole
t world seemed against her!
She could not bring herself to voice
j her inward trouble to anyone, least of
, all to David. She watched him striding
1 along, among his comrades, jesting
1 with them as only men who have
passed through death together can
jest, and her torment almost mad
I dened her. What a sorry tangle she
s had got herself into! What a little fool
3 she had lieen! But David, too, she
3 told herself, had been just as unrea
3 sonable. She caught glimpses of him
t when he thought himself unseen by
1 her, and the flintlike set of his jaws
3 convinced her that he was unendurable
3 in his fixed resolve not to forget what
had gone before. Why couldn’t he be
sensible and talk to her as if nothing
3 had happened? As for herself, she
l would die before she begged his for
3 giveness. And so matters stood when
1 they reached Fort Harrison, on the
homeward journey.
; At Fort Harrison they found Ike
- Blackford, sound and strong again.
3 Toinette had dreaded meeting him. He
t came toward her, his face bright with
1 Joy, but clouded when he realized that
- David and she had not yet settled
their silly quarrel. Ike was misera
ble ; but he kept silence. He knew bet
:- ter than to thrust his paw into that
fire.
t The wounded were transferred tc
r the boats at Fort Harrison and the
e journey to Vincennes was soon accom
e plished. There they found the lady
E> mule Priscilla, and when the march to
Corydon was resumed Toinette was
l ferried on the jenny’s patient back,
s while Ike strode beside her.
% And Ike laughed, striving to make
her forget; but strove in vain!
■* On the twenty-fifth of Novembei
t they reached Corydon. Runners had
*■ gone on before with the news of vie
■- tory; and the whole village came oat
; to meet them as they neared the town;
I women ran among the men even as
' they marched and flung their arms
I around the necks of brothers, fathers,
j husbands, though some sought in vain
• for those who would never return,
] or threw themselves with weeping be
; side the bodies of those who lay. upon
; the litters. But a hundred hearts were
] happy and thanked God; and happiest
: of ail was a little old man, l’atrice
? O’Bannon, who strained his daughter
to his breast and kissed her again and
again with tears mingling with his
kisses; for she had been brought back
to him as from the grave.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Poison Lingers.
David stayed behind in Vincennes,
going back to(his work at the trading
house of Francois Vigo. But he stayed
there only a week or two before his
! loneliness made existence without a
5 sight of Toinette an existence not to
; he endured. He hated the sight of the '
ill-smelling store, with its heaps of
green skins, its crackling bundles of
furs, hated the sight of the?1 cheerful
lloosiers and French who thronged the
streets of the old capital, and loathed
the wretched Piankeshaw Indians who
slept in the doorway. Suddenly, one
morning, he told old Vigo that he
must leave; and the next day found
him once more in Oorydon, where Ike
welcomed him with beaming face.
Still the breach was open! It is so
hard for young men aud maidens to
lay down their pride!
To Toinette the days were almost
unbearable. David acted like a bear
with a sore head, she thought. It was
just what she might have expected,
she told herself. It is perfectly silly
to be so big and flinty, she was sure.
David had never spoken ten words to
her at any one time, since the day he
had knocked everything into a cocked
hat by telling her he loved her. Peo
pie who loved each other didn’t act as
they did, she knew; why, whenever
they had been together she felt as
though something tremendous, some
thing bigger than she was, was in the
very air around and on the point of
exploding. She didn't approve of ex
plosions, still less of things, nameless
•forces, that were bigger than she was.
• When she had talked to David In the
i old days it was like talking to the heart
• of one of those terrible creatures of
• steel, about which Mr. Livingston had
i written her father—that great throb
being caldron which they fed with logs
and which palpitated with fury and
drove a boat from Pittsburgh to New
Orleans in a month. It was bigger
than she was and unmanageable and
it was not at all her idea of love.
Whenever she thought about it, that is
to say about the atmosphere which was
immediately and mysteriously evolved
out of common day whenever David
and she encountered, her eyes tilled
with tears of vexation. As for being
sorry, that was another matter. If Da
vid wished to be flint, she was perfect
ly capable of being steel. Vet she
thought about mm every day.
Her father, for the first time in her
experience, failed to be of any help to
her. At home, in New Orleans, she
had gone to him with the story of
each boy who had danced attendance
upon her nnd he had seen them as she
did and together they had laughed each*
cavalier into oblivion ; but she found it
impossible to discuss this new problem
with him. It was no use telling her
father that she was afraid of some
thing she couldn't name. If it was
| true that she had trembled from head
: to foot when she felt that the sparks
[ which flashed back and forth from her
> stool and David’s flint were danger
ously near a powder mine somewhere
inside her, that was her affair and
she would have to drown it with her
own contempt as best she might.
Accordingly, the little old gentleman,
who was sincerely troubled by the evi
dent breach between his daughter and
David, got small satisfaction from
Toinette when he stuck a cautious lin
ger into the difficulty. There was
The Name Burst From Him Like the
Cry of the Soul Itself.
nothing wrong and she was perfectly
happy and If David chose to be a
bear with a sore head that was his
concern and not theirs; and Mr. O’Ban
non wisely forbore further attempts to
effect a reconciliation. Ike Blackford,
who remained a stanch friend to each,
was likewise constrained to remain In
troubled silence, he had opened a well
meaning mouth to each in turn and
had got no cakes to fill It at either
fair.
And at last her “happiness” was so
perfect that she resolved to endure it
no longer.
She waited until she found him alone
in the shop, the little room which had
once meant to him the beginning of
life’s joyousness and life’s hopes; and
which was now a prison house whence
ghosts of yesterdays mocked him with
their memories.
He was about to close its doors for
the day.
Toinette summoned all her strength.
The tower of pride was tottering; it
can be sent down in ruins so easily
when a girl throws down the weapon
of her sex!
“I can’t stand it any longer, David,”
she said breathlessly, “to see you suf
fer. I know you are suffering, because
I—because I—because It hurts me so!”
What a glorious crash the tower
made!
David took a quick step toward her.
His pulses throbbed ungovernably.
“Toinette, what do you mean?” Ilis
face was glorious. “Huve you—do you
believe in me now?”
“You have blotted out all the past,
David,” she said simply.
The joy suddenly left his face.
“But the past,” he said, in dread of
what her answer might be, “the past—
have you forgotten why you drove me
from you? Huve you forgotten what
treason you charged me with?”
She waved the words aside. “That
is all past now, David. It is the fu
ture that is everything. And I know
now what you meau to me.”
He clenched his hands at his side.
He would be patient. Was it possible
that she still believed the empty slan
der against his loyalty?
“No, Toinette,” he said, as gently as
he could, “I huve' not forgotten your
charge against me. I can never for
get it until you say that you w-ere
wrong.”
The tower of pride reared itself up
again from its dust. Why must he
ask her to humble herself still further,
wheu she had already said so much?
She was silent. He waited for her
answer, but none came; and at lust,
he bowed gravely.
“Then it is useless to talk, of—for
getting. Please let us end this foolish
play."
He moved as though to go on with
his work.
“Wait, David !” she said tremulously.
Her eyes were blinded with tears. Her
fingers had been plucking nervously at
a purple ribbon which hung from her
bodice.
“Wait, I want to give you—a re
membrance.” She lifted the great
shears from the counter and clipped
the silken cord from its fastenings. A
tear ran down and stained it with a
darker color. Her fingers twisted the
sorry token, quickly twisted it into a
wistful emblem such as happy lovers
laughingly give each other—a lover’s
knot. She raised her face and her
blue eyes smiled wanly through the
mist that clouded them.
“Here, David, take this—just to be
foolish, just to be foolish for ouce.”
He took it. His hand was trembling.
But his face was steel, unforgiving.
All his yearning for her burned in his
breast, a white caldron of passion;
but around it closed the unyielding
walls of his cold passiou for his honor.
He could never forget that she had
doubted him once. Until that stain
hud been washed away, he could not
forgive. He remembered the young
Sir Philip Sidney of whom her father,
old Patrice, had so often told him—of
his proud guardianship of the white
shield of manly honor; he himself had
been only a wearer, but here, in this
new country, he was a man; and his
honor must be first!
“Toinette,” he said in a low voice,
“who told you that I had acted as a
spy ?”
The blood rushed to her cheeks.
This, too, she would give him.
“Doctor Elliott,” she whispered, with
bent head.
“Who is he?” cried David in fury.
“That young doctor who cqraes iere
from Louisville? In God’s name, wnat
has he against me? I’ve never seen
the man! But do you believe him
still?”
iou nave never—never denied—
never—” she stopped miserably. She
could not raise her eyes to face him.
“Then nothing else matters, Toin
ette.” v
“Oh, David, that doesn’t matter ei
ther!” she cried. “Nothing matters!
1 want you in spite of that!”
But he shook his head.
She became very pule again.
“I have offered all I have,” she said
proudly, “I have nothing more to give.”
“I can take nothing from yoc >• tiit,
you believe me guilty. My liaine is uii
I have to give you.”
Her answer scarcely reached his
eur: * ,
“Oil. David, let our love Be enough.”
The light had faded from the sky.
David looked down at her bent bead
and trembled.
“Where is this man Elliott now?”
he demanded suddenly.
“I do not know,” faltered Tolnette,
“but, oh, David—"
“Good-by!” he said.
She did riot answer, but held out
her hand. lie paid no heed. With a
sob she turned and raj tainAiagly to
ward her father’s house.
David set about the *-ork he had
to do..
He went directly to Blackford’s room
at the tavern. Ike was not there. In
a corner, beneath the wooden table
where a dozen law books lay scattered,
was a narrow box. Ike had often ex
hibited its contents to him. He lifted
it upon the table and threw open the
lid. Within lay two of those deadly
, weapons which none but gentlemen
cherished—two dueling pistols, brown
barreled, glistening, long and lean as
lightning. He drew forth one of them,
tried its hammer; it moved swiftly,
noiselessly. He loaded It, fitted the
flint Into the lock, placed It in the
bosom of his coat, and went out, silent
ly, his face white as linen.
Night had fallen. Far to the east
a sheet of flame flickered palely. Long
after, a fuint roll of thunder followed.
A drop of icy rain struck his face.
He passed swiftly from house to house,
Inquiring from each if there tho voting
doctor from Louisville, young Doctor
Elliott, was within; and, though sever
al had seen him that day, none knew
where he might be found. It was late
when someone he questioned recalled
thalffche thought he hud seen Elliott
that night at (Jourod’s tavern outside
the village.
He set out on the road that led to the
east. The storm had reached Itr
height.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Storm Breaks.
Young Doctor Elliott, lying prone on
his blanket on the hewn logs of the
floor of Conrod's tavern, stirred uneas
ily in his sleep. Outside, the artiilery
of the last thunderstorm of the autumr
rumbled and crashed above the steady
rush of the rain. A hand fell upon the
latch and the door burst open before
the fury of the wind. Elliott woke to
And the rain driving into his face. He
was about to rise to close the door
when the whole room was struck out of
T<yt)
“I Have Offered All I Have; I Have
Nothing More to Give."
darkness by the dazzling blue of sheet
lightning. It was gone as instantly
as it came and the crash of thunder
which accompanied it drowned his cry.
In that single moment of the blinding
flash he had seen, outlined against the
shimmering sky, framed in the rec
tangle of the door, the dreadful figure
of a crouching Indian, knife in hand.
His limbs froze in horror. The room
was now as black as midnight, but his
eyes ached with the impress of the
lightning glare and the image that had
been struck into them. Still in the
pitch darkness he could see that sick
ening face—dark, evil, its bloodshot
eyes peering malevolently into the
room.
He heard the rain-soaked moccasins
of tlie savage take two steps inward.
Before he could cry out again, a sec
mid flash of lightning illumined the
room, and showed a second man, tall,
pale with anger, his foot on the thresh
old.
With the hoarse snarl of a wild
beast, the Indian leaped at the figure
in the doorway. They grappled. Id
the darkness Elliott heard their quick
terrible, breathing as they swayed in
a struggle for life. A stool tripped
them and they fell, rolling against him.
Again the lightning flared and he saw
the knife, dashed from the Indian's
hand, lying beside him. The white
man was beneath, his face hidden by
the straining shoulders of the savage.
Blindly Elliott seized the weapon and
struck wfth hysterical force.
The man beneath shook off the re
laxed arms of the hideous intruder and
rose unsteadily to his feet. Then he
laughed aloud in the darkness.
“I can’t see who you are, friend,” he
said, "but you’ve certainly saved me
front a close call.”
Elliott made no answer. He was
sobbing weakly, his hand still clutch
ing the blood-stained knife. From the
upper room came the sound of voices
and the taverukeeper carat1 hurriedly
down the narrow ladder leading from
thetiol't, followed by the awakened
guests. Someone struck a flint; can
dles were lighted.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—
I I
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B B
Windmill Pudding,
llie now draft had just arrived in
'Frtx&t find the men were exchanging
notes with the old hands.
“Do they feed you well out here?”
asked one of the raw hands.
“Oh, not at aUbad,” replied the cam
paigner—“not at all bad! Good break
fast and good dinner, and always pud
ding after dinner.”
“Pudding, eh? What kind of pud
ding today?”
“Oh, the usual kind—windmill pud
ding!”
“Windmill! What sort is that?’
“Why, if it goes round you ae t
some.”
.
# ■ *
RID HOME OF PEST
PRACTICAL INFORMATION ON
ERADICATION OF BEDBUGS.
Simple Preparations, Applied With
Diligence, Will Do the Work, Ac
cording to Bulletin of the Bu
reau of Entomology.
Those who are troubled by bedbugs
will tiud practical information as to
how to deal effectively with these pests
in Farmers' Bulletin 754, "Bedbugs,”
recently published by the department.
In this bulletin O. 1- Murlntt of the
bureau of entomology makes clear the
habits of these insects which have a
bearing on their eradication, and sug
gests a number of simple household
measures, as well as more radical
methods, of getting rid of them. Tilt
author calls attention especially tc
the fact that these insects will migratt j
from an unoccupied to an inhabitec
house and points out that the fact tha I
they ordinarily hide in the daytime j
makes it necessary to apply the insec I
ticides in cracks in walls and floor am: !
crevices under wall paper, where the j
insects ordinarily are concealed and lay
their eggs. Information as to the •
ability of bedbugs to withstand cold !
and to go without food for long peri- j
ods should lie especially useful to those j
intending to move into houses long uu 1
tpnn ntPfl
Of the simpler remedies the ento
mologist says that benzine, kerosene
or other lighter petroleum oils intro- !
duced into crevices by means of a
brush or syringe are perhaps the most
efficient. The bulletin also gives di
rections for fumigation with sulphur ot
other chemicals, which will be found
economical and effective iu cases ol
general infestation.
Those who have been bitten will lind
applications of peroxide of hydrogen
useful In allaying irritation. Tincture
of iodine, in its ordinary or double
strength, is also a good counter-irritant '
for use in cases of fleas, mosquitoes, ;
bedbugs, or other insect bites. Iodine, i
however, should be used with caution 1
on the tender skin of small childen and
on those who are affected with or dis- :
posed to eczemic disorders.
The bulletin will he supplied free by
the department as long as the supply 1
lasts.
Custard Recipes.
Steamed or baked custard: One pint
milk, one-eightli teasfioonful nutmeg i
two eggs, one-fourth cupful sugar, one. :
eighth teaspoonful salt.
Mix eggs as for soft custard. Strain j
into custard cups and steam until firm
over hot water which is boiling gently. '
Another way to cook this custard is
as follows: Strain into custard cups
and place in a pan of warm water j
Bake in a moderate oven until the
custard is firm. To test a steamed oi j
baked custard, slip a knife blade to
the bottom of the cup in the center ot '
tile custard and draw without turn- j
ing. If the knife is not coated with a j
milky substance the custard is firm all j
the way through and has cooked
enough. Grate the nutmeg over the
surface of the custard and cool before
serving.
Italian Dish.
To make risotto, put a handful of
salt into a saucepan full of water. Put
the saucepan on the fire and when the
water is hot, but not boiling, throw in
he rice. By throwing the rice into
hot butter in a pan before adding wa
ter to cook it, each grain of rice re
mains intact. Let it boil about twenty
minutes. Strain the rice, pouring the
contents of the saucepan into a strain
er. Put a sufficient quantity of butter
into a frying pan, when the butter is
melted add the rice and mix well to
gether for two or three minutes. Pour
the rice into a dish and cover with
grated Parmesan cheese.
Cheese Potatoes in Jackets.
Six large potatoes, two egg whites
well beaten, one teaspoonful butter,
one and one-lmlf teaspoonfuls salt,
one-eighth teaspoonful pepper, cheese,
one-third cupful rich milk or cream;
rub potatoes over with melted butter,
then bake till thoroughly done. Cut
in halves lengthwise, scoop out potato
and mash till all the lumps are out.
Beat in the butter, milk and seasoning,
and, when fluffy, add the egg whites.
Then refill the potato shells, smooth,
and place on top of each a thin slice
of American cheese. Return to oven
to brown for about ten minutes, and
serve at once.—Good Housekeeping.
Banana Pudding.
Heat one cupful milk and one-lialf
water, add six teaspoonfuls corn
starch in one-half cupful water, yolk
•of egg, six tablespoonfuls sugar. Add
■;alt to it. When cooked and cool add
teaspoonful banana or lemon extract,
l’our over sliced bananas. Beat white
with two tablespoonfuls confectioner’s
sugar. Spread on top.
Bacon Rolls.
Chop cold or left-over meat very fine,
or run it through a chopper; a little
green pepper or onion may be added
and the meat should be well seasoned.
Roll the meat up in bacon strips and
fasten with a toothpick or skewer.
Bake in a hot oven till brown. Serve
with baked sweet potatoes for a lunch
eon dish.
Curried Savory.
Heat one ounce of butter in a stew
pan. When it boils add a saltspoon
ful of curry powder and a little good
stock. Break two eggs into n basin
and beat, add them to the ingredients
in the pan, stir all together, add a ta
blespoonful of milk and salt t<^ taste.
As soon as the mixture is thick pile
it onto squares of fried or toasted
bread and serve.
Jam Cakes.
One cupful sugar, two-thirds cupful
butter, three eggs, one teaspoonful
soda, four tablespoonfuls sour milk,
two scant cupfuls flour. Season with
nutmeg and clove, and last thing add
cupful of Jelly or Jam (raspberry Jam
is particularly nice), beating thorough
ly. Bake in layers with white frosting
between.
i
| Peruna eases ■
\S2X& the burden of the ■
KflKXyv housekeeper by keep- ■
ing away the danger ■
|fof illness resulting ■
from colds, coughs. B
Iand indigestion due B
I to catarrhal condi- ■
I \r tion. It speedily re- ■
A lieves and overcome* 9
these. y
X Its tonic properties build up K
■ the strength of the physically K
9 weak and run down, and its use K
■ in convalescens*. especially after grift I
■ is remarkably beneficial.
I KEEP IT ON HAND I
Mi The wise housekeeper has Peruna H
■ on hsnd lor instant use even ilcatarrhal K
SB troubles do not call for Its regulsr ad- Bf
E ministration. A dose or two in time ■
9 often prevents a long illness.
■ Liquid or tablet form. £8
j Manalin Tablets are a splendid I
I laxative for home use.
■ Ask the druggist s'.
I THE PERUNA COMPANY
E % Celnmbns. Ohio J
The Wretchedness
of Constipation /
Can quickly be overcome by
CARTER’S LITTLE
LIVER PILLS.
.Purely vegetable
—act surely and
gently on the
liver. Cure
Biliousness,
Head
ache,
Dizzi
ness, and Indigestion. They do their duty.
SMALL PILL, SMALL DOSE, SMALL PRICE.
Genuine must bear Signature
Get Rid of Them
before they start to build their homes
in your newly gathered crops. It costs
you about $2.00 yearly to feed one rat
RID-OF-RATS
kills them for less than 1 cent per rat
No mixing. No mussing. Always ready to use. Per
fectly harmless to domestic animals. (luAi'.ANTXBD
to kill Bats and Mice. We refund money for any
goods returned as
__unsatisfactory. ‘Jk
for Rid - of -
Hats. If he
Ltf- can't supply
PT yon, order
direct, girlng
hie nirna.
Sample Price*: Box 10c; 1 Dos. Box©#,91.10;
3 Doz. Boxes; 93.00. Prepaid all oxer U. fl.
BERG & BEARD MANUFACTURING CO.
12-14 Steuben St., Brooklyn, N. Y.
At the Horse Show.
Knicker—That is a horse.
Bocker—I forget whether you say y
gitlhonk or honkup to make it go.
Dr. Pierce’s Pellets are best for liver,
bowels and stomach. One little Pellet for
• laxative—three for a cathartic.—Adv.
Ignorance ceases to be bliss after
you begin to get wise.
Mistaken Identity.
“I say, Bings, here’s one of your
golf balls that was missing under the
table.”
“Sh! don’t say it so loud. That's
one of my wife’s biscuits.”
Pessimistic Outlook.
“Do you suppose Austria has sent
the Count de Tarnow-Tarnovski over
here permanently?”
“All I know is the correspondents
are gloomily aware he Is here for a
spell."
Of No Practical Service.
“The electoral college has complete
ly lost its original importance.”
“Yes. lt& announcement don’t
amount to enough now to help a loser
stave off payment of an election bet.”
-r—
Bad Commissariat.
Secretary of War Baker was prais
ing the commissariat department of
the army.
“It stood the strain of the Mexican
crisis well,” he said. “Everybody was
fed bountifully—everybody would have
continued to be fed bountifully to the
end. There was nothing here to sug
gest old Noska.
“Old Noska, a regular, boarded a
street car one day. A man looked at
him and said:
“ ‘In the regular army, I see.’
“ ‘Yep,’ said Noska.
“Well, friend,” said the man, ‘take a
look at me. I’m the guy that supplies
the regular army with Its butter.’
“Old Noska gritted his teeth, and,
without a word, kicked the butter deal
er through the window.
“ ‘Now bring on,’ he said, ‘the guy
that supplies the eggs!’ ”
The cheerful feeling you
possess after a drink of
something hot and flavory
should be only the beginning
of your satisfaction.
For this very reason more
and more people are turning
from coffee to
Instant Postum
A lessened tendency to such
annoyances as nervousness
and sleeplessness repays
them
A ten-day trial of thin de
lightful, flavory hot drink has
assisted so many to health -
and comfort that your friend,
the Postum drinker, will tell
you its well worth while.
“There** a Reason*9
