CHAPTER XIX—Continued.
—12—
“I don't see him. lie's not there.”
she said at last, handing the glass hack
to its owner.
“If he were there, you'd see hiui all
right." said Winters enthusiastically,
“toecauwc he'd be to the thick of the
fight *
"I doubt if you can recognize any
one. even through the glass, at such a
distance.” said Rodney, after he hud
focused it and taken a look himself.
“Yet if he were there, he certainly
would be In the thick of it. He's that
kind. You look. Dick.”
“I can't see him.” said Winters In
turn. "But what a fight they are mak
ing to save that dam."
"WUI It bold?" asked the woman.
“Ini[»>«iuble." said Rodney.
“I give It one hour," said Winters,
handing over the glass.
“Not more than that." assented ihe
other, after another look. “See for
yourself. Mitts Illingworth."
From where they stood, high up on
the roof of the world, they were spec
tators of a great battle, witnesses of
a terrible contest In which herculean
effort, desperate courage, human will,
all exerted to the limit, finally de
generated Into blind, mechanical habit
of continuous and frenzied endeavor.
The «|>irit of reckless continuance had
got into them and moved them to the
impossible As men in a battle charge
go on even with wounds enough to kill
them In ordinary ctrru to stances, as sol
diers at Winchester, though shot In the
heart, actually struggled after Sheri
dan until they fell, or even us a com
mon horse may so he imbued with
blind Intensity of determination that
he gallop* on until he drops dead,
so these men gave their all in unmuteh
able persistence.
"They'd better get off that dam.” said
Rodney “When it once fails It’ll go
with a rush and then It’ll be too late.”
"Look at them. They're not going
to get •■ft." said Winters. “They're
going down with it. Fools. God bless
cmhe shouted, throwing up his
anas In exultation over manhood and
courage and determination.
“Perhrips you had Iwtter go back.
Miss I!! r.gw..rrh ." »aid Rodney, think
lag of the horror she might witness at
any ntouw-nt.
“I wouldn't he elsewhere for the
world. ' said the brave girl, white but
with firm lips—she was made of the
an me stuff as the fighting men. It
seemed—“even If he Were there, fight
ing that great battle. I should wait to
arc the end."
“We re not the only people in this |
wilderness Look yonder!" cried Win !
ter*
He pointed down through the conso
les* rain toward the lower edge ..f the
mean. There, far tw-low him. were
three sodden figures. The water in the
lake hid 11*Mided ili*' slope i.f 'Ik* hill,
and on that side It was hipping the
Ua«c of the cliff. The trail had. of
course, been covered, and there was no
way of progress except bv taking ad
vantage of the broken rock at the foot
of the cliff, which here and there still
a*uud above the Water. It was a place
where men could only pass l>y carefully
'Cbooatag their way and calculating the
philter of the next point toward
Which to leap. These three were mov
ing like tnudint'ii. splashing through
the water, hurling themselves from
rock to rock, falling against the wall,
clutching a tree or shrub, slipping into
the lake, saving themselves from
drowning apparently only by the ca
price of complacent fortune, which
they were trying to the utmost limit.
one man carried a miner's pick, a
spade and a surveyor's range pole, the
other another spade uud two long
•Hakes Whi.-h looked like the separate
leg* of a tri|M>d. The bareheaded man.
who had thrown his rubber coat down
la the reOdlsh-yellow water, curried a
good-sized oilskin bag. lie was the
most hurried of the three, lie ran
•sane distance in front of the others,
lltey noticed how carefully he sought
to protect the bag. When he slipped
or seemed about lo fall, he always
thru t It frantically away from the
roci with outstretched arm.
V .at the thnte men would he at of
eou. - no one knew. It was obvious
rha' they were In a desperate hurry
and that the thiug in the bag must lie
carefully carried. Naturally the watch
ers connected (he men with the dam
builder*. They were dressed ns the
men ei.gag.-d In dieh labor would he
dress*-.; T’i ■ pick, the -prides and the
pole and str bore out that conclu
sion.
"What's In the bag?" asked the
woman
"He carries it as though it might
be gold or diamond*," said Winters.
Kodney shook his head. Suddenly
he divined the r.-asi.i, f,,r (he extreme
on- with which the hag was carried.
The men were immediately below the
three watcher* now. He could make
oat pretty well what was the size and
shape of the objects :l»nt bulged the
wrsterpfoof l*s g.
"I have It.” he shouted. “Dynamite!”
“What for?"
Kodney sh*M»k his bead again. The
man in front was in plain view. He
vraa a tall hgurc. his face was heavily
bearded. Front the angle at which
they saw hlui It was ini] -dlile to rec
ognize him. nor was be In Ids frantic
progress assuming the usual attitude
and bearing of a man under ordinary
coudltj Hi* which sometimes betray
him to those who know him well. Nor
could Helen Illingworth with her
trembling hands ftk'us the glass, which
she took from Kodney before the strug
gling adventurer* had passed = “"'1 yet
there wss somethin* iu the figure be
low that made her heart b,-at faster.
She pressed her hand to the wet gar
taeots over hw heart and stared, bud
'".ji, -wised bis voice and
shouted at the very top of it. Winter)
joined in. and even Helen Illingworth
found herself screaming. The three
men be!:»r,- were not more than five or
six hundred feet away, but evidently
they could not possibly hear in that
tumult of nature. No voices would
carry through any such rain and wind.
They were too intent on their paths
and on whnt they had to do to look
upward. They rounded the shoulder
of the mesa and disappeared in the
pines at its feet.
The three on the top looked at each
other.
"The dam still holds.” said Rodney,
quite unsuspecting what was in the
woman’s heart.
Even us he spoke. Helen Illingworth
turned uway. She ran heavily in her
sodden garments along the broken
mesa top past the house to the upper
edge. There below her were the three
men just emerging from the fringe of
trees. Hounding the end of the mesa,
they had at lust struck firmer ground.
Helen Illingworth could see them
through the pines on the old trail. The
going was bad enough, but it was noth
ing compared to what they had passed
over and presently they burst out of
the woods and ran along the greasy,
well-rounded hogback that divided the
valley from the ravine.
The woman had no idea what was
toward, what was their purpose. Site
could only stare and sture at the rap
idly moving far-off figure indomitably
in the lead, and the others following
after. There Winters joined her.
“Rodney sent me to look after you;
he feels that he must stay back and
watch the dam for his paper.”
“Look," said Helen, pointing far
down. Tlie men halted at the very
narrowest part of the hogback. They
were clustered together. The bag lay
on the ground behind them. One man
bent over it, evidently opening it.
Another man swung the shovel vicious
ly. the third grabbed the pick. Win
ters had been too fur removed from en
gineering even yet to figure out what
was toward. They could only watch
and wonder.
CHAPTER XX.
The Victors.
Meade knew that they were fighting
a losing battle. Every one of the
higher grade men knew it also. The
spillway was entirely inadequate, but
it suddenly flashed into his mind, with
that consciousness of the hopelessness
of the struggle, that perhaps there was
another way to discharge the flood.
The same idea might have come to
any other of tlie more intelligent of the
men from Vandeventer down if they
had taken a moment for reflection. If
they had not been so frantically, so
-b'fully engrossed in tlieir present
|Hilly lui! gallant efforts to save tlie
i im. they certainly would have remem
bered. That the possibility came to
Meade rather than to any of the others
was perhaps due to the fact that he
had noted the situation later and had
Studied the conditions more recently.
Those solitary rambles of his, those
careful inspections of the terrain of
tin- valley, had been made long after
the original surveys and tlie results of
hi< observations were still fresli in his
mind.
Tlie water was rising so rapidly
since tlie cloudburst and he saw tlie
inevitablcness of the failure so clearly
that he did not dare to waste time to
look up Vandeventer. tell him his plan,
and get his permission. Every second
was of the utmost value. When the
thought came. In* acted instantly. He
was in the position of the commander
of a small force to whom is suddenly
presented the bare possibility of wrest
ing victory from defeat by some splen
didly daring and unforeseen undertak
ing. And he was the man to seize such
a possibility and make the most of it.
He had endeared himself to some of
the men and the respect in which he
was held by Vandeventer was shared
His Soul Was Rising and His Heart
Was Beating—
by the others. When he called two
of the most capable of the workmen,
a big. burly Irishman and a stout little
Italian, to follow him, they did it
without a moment’s hesitation.
"The rest of you keep on here," he
shouted as he left the gang. “Murphy
and Funaro, come with me. Keep it
up; I think I know a way to help,” he
yelled back through the rain as he
scrambled off the dam up the rocks to
the spillway. It was not his fault that
they could not hear and could not un
derstand.
The water was rushing through the
spillway about knee deep, and the
itqrie a-»n plunging forward through
!ii Ai-.i i\‘t fiicy ?n keeping their foot
ing on »he f.rokea, rocky bottom.
When they reached the other side,
Meade shouted above the storm:
“Murphy, bring your pick aud shov
i es; take that iron range-pole, too.
| Here, Funaro, you take your shovel
i and tliese."
As lie spoke he ran into the office
shack and wrecked a rransn. tripod,
ruthlessly separating the legs from one
another by main force and pitching
two of them into the little Italian's
outstretched arms.
Without a question, both men com
plied with his directions. In a huge
crevice, almost a small cave, in the
spur of the mesa which overhung the
east end of the dam the explosives
1 were stored. The dynamite was kept
I in oilskin bags, the detonating caps in
waterproof boxes. There were six
teen sticks or cartridges in each bag.
Each stick was an inch and a half in
j diameter and eight inches long. One
bagful should lie ample. Indeed, if
that did not do the work, the attempt
would fail.
The men waited while Meade select
ed a bag of dynamite, a box of detona
tors. and a package of fuses. It was a
cardinal rule that dynamite cartridges
and detonating caps should never be
carried by tlie same person, because
the combination so greatly increased
the risk of premature explosion.
The fulminate of mercury in the
detonators was very volatile, highly ex
plosive and immensely destructive, con
sidering its size. One such cap could
blow off a man's hand, or even his
head, and in its explosion might deto
nate the dynamite. Hence the sepa
ration when being carried.
Meade decided to take that risk. He
knew how perilous was the undertak
ing, how liable he was in his hurry to
fall against the rocks, slippery and
lulf submerged in that pouring rain.
He knew what the consequences of
such a fall would be. He would center
all risks in himself. He thrust the box
of detonators in ins pocket, the pack
age of fuses inside his flannel shirt,
and carried the dynamite bag in his
hand. He would need his free hand to
protect himself, so all the tools were
carried by the other men.
i ae little Italian shook his head as
j he noted these preparations. lie hap
| pened to be one of the explosive force,
i those whose duty it was to do the
| blasting. In his practical way he knew
! a great deal about the properties and
J possibilities of usefulness of the dyna
i mite. Meade’s purpose was obvious, I
! even to Murphy, who was only a la
| borer, tfnrugh where he proposed to
I work neither man bad any idea at all.
“Dynamita no work in zis weather,”
| said Funaro impressively.
"Probably not.” answered Meade,
hurrying bis preparations, “but it’s our
j only chance.”
“Give me ze caps,” urged the Ital
ian gallantly.
“Xo, I’ll take both.”
I “It ees danger.”
“Yes. but come on.”
Meade, wasting no more words,
sprang at what was left of the trail,
and the two men gallantly followed i
him. The hogback at which he was !
I aiming was perhaps a little more than !
j two miles from the dam. On the ordi
nary trail and prepared for the run.
be could have managed it in fifteen
minutes; us it was. they made it in
thirty. The extreme possibility of the
life of the dam seemed to Meade not
much greater, lie went in the lead. !
j and bv bis direction the others kepi
! some distance behind him.
"If I fall and explode this dynamite. I
there’s no need of all three of us he- j
ing blown up,” he had said, and it was j
no reflection on their courage that they I
complied with his direction.
Indeed a stern command was neces
sary to keep the two men back. They
had caught something of the gallant
spirit of the engineer, and the big
Irishman and the little Italian were as
' eager as he. Helped by a few hasty
words as they ran. they had both of
them learned what he would be at.
They both realized that they were the
forlorn hope, that if they could not
save the dam nobody and nothing
could. And there was a trace of the
| age-long rivalry between the Celt and
the Roman. The scion of the legionary
and the son of the barbarian who had I
fought together in the dawn of history j
vied with each other then. Again and
again Meade had to order them back,
lie wits keenly sensible of his danger,
lie knew that if he fell, if the dyna
mite struck the ground violently, it
! might explode, lie knew that the un
j stable fulminate of mercury in the
j detonators might go off at any time—
I perhaps that was the greater danger—
; but he never checked his pace or hesi
tated in a' leap or sought an easy way
for a second, llis soul was rising and
his heart was beating as they had
never risen or beaten in his life. And
the hearts of his men beat with his'
own.
He knew, of course, if the dam went
j out the railroad, the bridge, the town,
the citizens, the women and children,
iind everything and everybody would
go. If he could save them, his act
might be set off against the loss of the
International. But whether that were
true or not, whatever the conse
quences to him. he was bound to save
them. The weight of every man, ti e
weight of every woman, the weight of
every child in the valley, the weight
of all the business enterprises of the
town, the weight of the great viaduct
of steel, the weight of .the huge dam
itself, was on his shoulders as he ran.«
He carried the burden lightly, as Atlas
might have upborne the world with
laughter. For, despite his determina
tion and haste, he had in his heart the
great joy that comes when men at
tempt grandly and dare greatly for
their fellow-men. If lie could only by
and by see his hopes justified by suc
cess, his happiness would be complete.
And there were thoughts personal as
well as general. If he died, whether
successful or not, men would tell about
his endeavor. She would hear. It
came to him afterward, when he
I learned how she had looked down upon
1 him as he ran. that he had somehow
i felt her presence, not a presence im
! pelling him to look up, but a presence
I driving him on. He lost Ids hat, he tore
I off his long coat and threw it aside
as lie plunged on with his precious bag
in his hand. He did not dare to look
at his watch, he did not stop for any
thing, but it seemed that he must have
spent hours in that mad scramble over
the water-covered rocks. He heaved a
deep breath of relief when he rounded
the mesa and struck the trail. Bad as
was the going, it was nothing to what
they had passed over.
Presently he broke out into the open
slope and there before him was the
rounded curve of the hogback, to gain
which he had risked so much. Were
they in time? Yes, the water in the
lake was not flowing, it was only ris
ing. Evidently the dam still held. He
ran along it till he reached the nar
rowest part of it, twenty feet wide
between water-covered valley and
sharply descending ravine. The short
est separation between Picket Wire
and the Kicking Horse! The water in
the lake was within three feet of the
crest. The rain was coming down
steadily. He could realize by the wa
ter level where he stood that it must
be lapping the top of the dam now,
or a little above it. He had five min
utes—ten at most. He was still in
time. The thoughts came to him as he
ran. And as he saw the place again
he made his instant plan.
He laid the dynamite down just as
Murphy and Funaro reached him and
stood panting, their heavy breathing,
the sweat mingling with the rain in
their wet faces, evidencing their ex
haustion. From Murphy, who had been
the faster. Meade took the two tripod
legs, stout oak staves about an inch
and a half thick, with sharp metal
points. He jammed them down into
the ground about five feet from the j
edge of the Kicking Horse ravine and
about fifteen feet apart.
notes, mere, ne snouted, deep j
enough for five cartridges.”
Funaro nodded. He knew exactly 1
what to do. Murphy had often seen
the explosive gang tit work. He was
quick-witted and lie had only to follow
the Italian's actions. The work was
simple. Seizing their spades, the two ’
men cut into the sod, using the pick
to dislodge small bowlders and break
up the earth. The soil was light and
porous, and it had been well soaked
by the rain. After they had made an
excavation about two feet deep, they
laid aside their shovels, and with the
iron range pole as a starter and the
bigger tripod stakes to follow, they
made two deep holes in the ground, [
forcing the pole and then the stake |
into the earth, which the continuing
rain tended to soften more and more. ’
They made these holes about four feet
deep below the excavation, driving in
and twisting and churning the stakes
by main strength.
They could by no means have accom
plished this save for the softening as
sistance of the rain and the furious
energy they applied. They had been
working since four 111 the morning at
the dam. they had made that difficult :
run at headlong speed, yet they labored
like men possessed. They even wasted
breath to call challengingly and pro
vokingly and to set forth their progress
each to tile other. In almost less time
than it takes to tell it, they had com
pleted the holes and so informed the
engineer triumphantly.
Meade, as usual, had reserved to
himself the more dangerous, if less ar
duous task. Covering himself with
tug Murphy’s discarded slicker, which
fell over him like a shelter tent as he i
knelt down, he opened the box of
detonators, selected one, and attached j
the fuse in position carefully. Then
he unfolded the paper about one of the
cartridges and placed the detonator,
wrapping the paper around it there
after. He prepared two cartridges
this way with the greatest care.
The men rapidly but carefully cut
slits in the covering of the cartridges,
and lowered four cartridges down each
hole, forcing them gently into place
with the butt ends of the tripod stakes
and compressing them so that they
tilled the holes completely. Then
Meade placed his two prepared sticks
with the detonators on top of the other
four. He cut the fuse to the proper
length in each case, and, keeping it
carefully covered with the raincoat, he
held it while the others filled in the
holes and the excavations and care
fully tamped down the earth. All that
remained was the lighting of the fuse.
And then? Would the dynamite go
off? With fuses it was uncertain in its
action at best, and although these
fuses were supposed to be so prepared
as to be independent of weather con
ditions, more often than not rain
spoiled a blast. If this blast failed it
was good-by dam—good-by everything.
Meade drew out from the pocket of
his flannel shirt n box of matches. He
had to light the further cartridge fuse,
then run fifteen feet and light the |
nearer one, and then make his escape.
He had made the nearer fuse a litti? i
shorter so as to secure a simultaneous
'explosion if possible.
Tony Fuuuro now interposed gal
lantly.
“Giva me da light,” he demanded, ex
tending his hand.
"G’wan wid ye,” shouted the big
Irishman eagerly; "lemme do it, sor.”
“Stand back, both of you,” cried
Meade, succeeding after some trouble
in striking a match.
He had cut off a shorter length of
fuse for a torch, the better to carry the
fire from one blast to another. As It
sputtered into flame, he touched the
first fuse, then the second, and turned
and ran for his life after Murphy and
Funaro. They had just got a safe dis
tance away when with a muffled roar
! the two blasts went off nearly together,
j When they ran back they saw that
| two-thirds of the hillock on that side
' of the ravine had gone. A wall of
! earth through which water was already
! trickling rose between the great gap
they had blown out and the lake, the
upper level of which was much higher
than the bottom of the great crater
they had opened.
“Hurrah,” yelled Meade, the others
joining in his triumphant shout. “Now,
another hole right there,” he pointed to
the foot of the bank. “Drive It in
slanting and it will do the job.”
“Will the dam be after holdin’ yit,
sor?” asked Mike Murphy, seizing his
pick.
“I hope so, but, for God’s sake,
hurry."
With two men working, the last hole
was completed before Meade was
ready. Funaro, indeed, came to his
assistance in preparing the cartridge.
Presently all was completed. Reject
ing the pleas of both men. Meade
struck the match, and this time, since
there was but one blast to be fired, he
touched it directly to the fuse and
waited a second to see that it had
caught and ran as before.
At a safe distance they drew back
and waited. Nothing happened. A few
seconds dragged on. They saw no sign
'-— 1
He Was as One Dead.
of life in the fuse, no light. In spite
of the care they h:ul taken, it had got
wet. It would not work. The precious
moments were flying. They stared
agonizingly at the fuse through the
rain.
“I'll have to take a look at It,” said
Meade desperately.
Funaro and Murphy caught him by
the arms. They all knew the tremen
dous risk in a nearer approach. The
fuse might be alight still. At tiny sec
ond the flame might flash to the deto
nator and then— Yet Meade had to
go. That charge had to lie exploded if j
he detonated it by hand, he thought
desperately, and he had not come so
fur and worked so hard to fail now.
“Don’t go,” cried Murphy.
"It ees danger," shouted Funaro.
Hut Meade shook them off and bade
them keep back. What was his dan
ger compared to the issue Involved?
That last charge had to be exploded,
lie stepped quickly toward it, and ns
he did so he threw his eyes up toward
the gray, rain-tilled heaven in one last
appeal.
Did he hear the Wind roar, did he
see the upbursting masses of sodden
earth, was he conscious of the fact
that the whole side of the hillock had
been blown away, that the last explo
sion had completed the shattering work
of the first—that they had succeeded?
Did he mark the whirling water, driv
en backward at first by the violence of
the explosion, returning and rolling in
vast mass through the great opening,
did he see it plunging down the slope,
through the trees and bushes, and
pour thunderously into the bed of the
ravine? Did he see the tremendous
rush of the water from the great lake
that man had created tear earth from
earth, and ever widen and deepen the
opening as it crashed in a foaming, ter
rible, red cataract through the outlet, !
striking down great trees, roaring,
boiling wildly to the bottom of the j
gorge far below?
No, he saw nothing. Broken, beaten !
down by a huge bowlder that had been
thrown upward by the explosion and
lin'd struck him on the breast, and j
lying battered under a rain of smaller
stones and earth, he was as one dead.
"By heavens!” cried Winters in great
excitement on the crest of the hill,
“he’s done it. lie’s saved the dam;
that's a man!"
“Don't you know him?” screamed
Helen Illingworth in his ear.
“No."
' “Meade!”
Winters caught her by the arm.
“He’s dead.” she cried high and
shrill, “but he saved the dam and the
bridge and the town, lie’s made atone- ;
rneut.”
“Yes, yes; don’t faint,” cried Win
ters.
“Faint! I’m going to him.”
“How?”
“The nearest way,” screamed the
woman, letting herself down over the
cliff wall to the broken rocks, by which
only the liaroy could reach the lower
level.
***»•»*
What of the dam below in the val
ley?
“Hold it, men. hold it; for God’s
sake, hold it,” shouted Vandeventer,
rising from his crouching position
against the palisade to resume it
instantly he had spoken. “Keep it
up. If it goes down, let’s go down with
it. Hang on—hang on! We’ll hold it.
We aren’t beat yet.”
Broken words, oaths, protestations,
curses, cheers, expletives in strange
languages from the polyglot mob of
men burst forth. Even cowards bad
been turned into heroes because they
had fought by the side of men. Here
and there a man not weaker phys
ically, perhaps, but less resolute, less
spiritually consecrated, less divinely
obsessed, dropped out of the rank that
pitted Itself in furious, futile, but sub
lime fury against the wavering wall.
Some of them fell backward and lay
•still. Some had fainted and some of
them were half dead. A few here and
there sank down on the trampled, mud
dy embankment and buried their heads
in their hands, sobbing hysterically.
But most still blind, mad, sublime,
held on. And the palisade did not fall.
It did not bend back any further.
The throb that told of the tremen
dous pressure of the waves, the quiver
that experience could feel the prelude
to failure, began to die away, to stop.
What did it mean? The thunder grew
still, the rain diminished, it ceased, the
clouds broke. Some great hand, as of
God, swiftly tore the black vault of
the heavens npart. Faint light began
to glow over the sodden land. Through
the rift they saw dimly one great peak
of mighty range. What had happened?
“Here,” said Vandeventer.
How white he looked, how haggard,
streaks of gray in his black hair that
had not been there before, but his eyes
were blazing. He was still the indom
itable chief of the Spartan band. The
nearest men gave him a hand. He
clambered up to his former vantage
point on top of the highest log of the
stockade and stared down. The rise
of the water had stopped! He could
not believe It, yet it was true. The
rain had ceased aguin, but by every
natural law the drainage from the hills
would continue for some time in full
volume. Yes, by all rights the dam
was doomed. The water still trickled
through the palisades in many small
streams. That had been a gallant ef
fort they had made, even if a vain one.
For ten minutes he stood silent, ex
hausted. Then he saw. The water
was not rising. No, it was falling;
only a trifle, hut enough. Presently it
had stopped filtering through the re
vetment. He looked back. Not a drop
ran on the other side of the palisade.
Vandeventer knew that the water must
be discharging somewhere. The lake
must have broken through somewhere.
He only needed that hint to recall the
hogback, and then Meade. He saw it
all now.
“We’ve won, the dam's saved,” he
cried greatly to the men who stood
back of the palisade staring at him.
“Roberts has blown up the hogback
The water’s falling. See for your
selves.”
Every man sprang up the paiisa e.
Someone laughed and then someone
raised a cheer, and those mud-covered,
sodden, worn-out men, who had been
about to die. saluted in heroic acclaim
him who had led them to victory and
by implication him who had made that
triumph possible.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
HIGH COST OF A SOLDIER
It Requires $1,000 a Year to Keep Him,
and Much More to Kill
Him.
Measured by their debts, it has cost
England, France and Germany about
$1,000 a year for every soldier and sail :
or on duty during the war, “Girard”
writes in the Philadelphia Ledger.
French writers say that Russia has |
still 0,000,000 good soldiers to equip. I
The United States could equip and
maintain in the field half that force,
or 3,000,000 Russian troops, for a year
at an expense of $3,000,000,(XX).
And that $3,000,000,000 would not
more than equal the sum which the
l nited Stutes has already made out of
this war.
Lincoln called for 75,000 troops to
suppress what was then thought to
be a modest Civil war, and 300,0O0 vol
unteered in a day.
That rate of volunteering now would
bring a million and a half men under
the flag immediately.
A few years ago a French military
critic said it cost $20,000 to kill one
soldier in war.
It has cost the allies about $23,000
to kill one of their foes iu the pres
ent war.
These estimates take no account of
the wounded and prisoners who go into
the bloody scales for excess measure.
It cost England nearly $40,000 to
kill an American soldier during the
Revolution.
-I
Cost of a Cough.
A patient German statistician has
calculated that a patient who coughs
once every quarter of an hour for teD
hours expends energy equivalent te
two hundred and fifty units of heat
which may be translated as equiva
lent to the nourishment contained in
three eggs or two glasses of milk. In
normal respiration the air is expelled
from the chest at the Rite of four feel
per second, whereas in violent cough
ing it may attain a velocity of Hire*
hundred feet. This waste of energy
is especially important, because it oc
curs, for the most part, in persons
whose assimilative functions are al
ready working under diflieulties; con- j
sequently the ingestion of the corre- j
spending quantity of nourishment by i
no means compensates for the exer- I
tiou. It follows that persistent cough i
is per se a cause of emaciation, though
there are many other factors which
tend in the same direction; hence the
desirability of restraining cough with
in safe limits, especially when it is due
to irritatiye reflexes, such as are ex
cited by laryngitis and pharyngitis.—
From the Medical Critic and Globe.
Marriage.
George Ade said of it, “You’ll ro.
gret it if you do and you’ll regret it
if you don’t.” Previously Socrates had
said, somewhat to wit, “Young man,
whether you do or not, you’ll be sorry
for it.” The conservative nature is
shy of it, unwilling to take a chance.
The element of chance in it is what
beguiles others. It has, however,
wholly admirable aspects. The very
useful and excellent sentiment of
home is perhaps it’s best product.
Summing up briefly the whole history
of human experience, we feel moved
to say of marriage, “It is welL Let It
continue.” (It continues.)
Excellent Definition of Luck.
“Luck,” said Uncle Eben, “is what
you talks about when somebody else
works hard an’ gits what you was try
In’ to grab offhand,”
I
I
The Reason for
Toll Charges
Les« than one-fourth of the
telephone subscribers make three
fourths of all the long distance
telephone calls.
The long distance lines are used
only occasionally by the large
majority of telephone subscribers.
For this reason a charge is made
for each long distance call instead
of meeting the expense of provid
ing this service by increasing the
local telephone rates.
If we gave free long distance
service it would mean that a.
telephone subscribers would pa
the cost of maintaining the 1 _■
distance lines which are usei
generally by only a few.
IP
Stenographer Too Radiant
The elder Swift, founder of
the great Chicago beef concern.' !
to see women working in
clothes, according to a man \\ t
labored for the Swift concern,
happened to he a stenographer
works, however, who bought :.
loud raiment she could, and look
a combination of a uierry-go-roun
a rainbow when she walked thro _
the yards.
One day the elder Swift caught -
of her. He called hi> assistant,
j “Who is that?” he asked,
i “Why, that's Mr. Blank's siei. _ u
j pher.”
“How much does she get?’
“Twenty-five a week.”
“Dock her.”
“I’m afraid she'll leave.”
Swift shot a glance at his as
before he answered:
“If she don’t,” he said, “dock her
again.”—Earl Godwin, in Wasi;.:i_- ;i
Star.
WATCH YOUR SKIN IMPROVE
When You Use Cuticura—The Soap to
Purify and Ointment to Heal.
On rising and retiring gently sm-; -
the face with Cuticura Ointment. W:.-.
off Ointment in live minutes with Cir ■
cura Soap and hot water. Continu ■
this treatment for ten days and n -
the change in your skin. No better
toilet preparations exist.
Free sample each by mail with B<-"k.
Address postcard. Cuticura, Dept. L.
Boston. Sold everywhere.—Adv.
Helping the Laundress.
“I declare to goodness. I have _-'»t •! •
backache so today I just can't lift that
tub,” said the laundress, as she ■ !
at it on the bench in the laundry.
“Why lift it?” asked John.
“And how do you suppose I
going to get it emptied?" ask*
laundress, sarcastically.
“Siphon it out," said John.
Then he went to a closet where *
and ends were kept, found a p
rubber tubing, filled it with wat
then, holding both ends, place-1
in the tub and trailed the other e r •
the sewer opening In the floor. In a
moment the water was runnir.a '
nicely, while the laundress stoo.i w •
her mouth open, watching liow easy
It was.
Off With the Old Love.
A photographer had taken a i
trait of a young woman. After an . \
amination she took a dozen of them.
A few days later the same yniii.. -a
an entered the photographer's >t .
with the dozen cabinet photos it
had been made of her about a wees
before.
“What!” exclaimed the photoar: ; '
er In dismay. “Bring them all : k?
Why, I thought they wen- very. - a
cessful.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, with a smi --.
“they are successful. I only want y« j
to touch out the ring. I have a new
young man.”
Not That Far Along as Yet.
“How do you exterminate potato
bugs?"
“I don’t know. I haven’t studied
up ou the atrocities of war-gardening.”
If a man would know how much h*
is appreciated he should pose as de
fendant in a breach of promise suit.
I •„