The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, April 28, 1893, Image 6

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    TO BE wor hv of being called the very 'DYtn -iri o
best store in town requires plenty of «XAAAO •
TO SitLltG 1 a large stock suit* "OwnAY*1 OT1
able for your needs requires JCJAJ^iCA ACAA^C*
TO BUY the goods right-which means v\-i
strictly for ca^h—requires unlimited v^«X^/AI/iXA«
TO SELL them to the universal satisfaction rp* pi
of our large and increasing trade requires X <X\j l.
| We have .ie~e Requisites. (
% I They are at /our Disposal.
jjj We Request your Trade.... v
S. M. )CHRAN & GO.,
L.-tJn ers in —
Farm Implements, Hardware, Wagons, Buggies, Etc.
The Leading Weekly in West
ern Nebraska.
> _
0TU. J. WARREN, Manager.
B. & M. Meat Market.
F. S. WILCOX, Prop.
Stock of Iron, Lead and Sewer Pipe, Brass Goods,
Pumps, and Boiler Trimmings. Agent for Halliday,
Eclipse and Waupun Wind Mills.
totary Public. Justice of the Peace.
Nebraska Farm Lands to Exchange for Eastern Property.
Collections a Specialty.
ST, - 1STTTP3-T?. X. n-rr-«. I
Though ton and I have not met for years,
Tonit.ii t I wake in that milt of tears
One tha ight of old had the force to start—
The thought that never has left my heart.
For love like mine, deny it who can,
pomes once, but once, in the life of man.
And if he triumphs the skies may fall.
And if he Ibees he loses all.
I wonder If you regret; perchance
Some word of the past, some circumstance.
Has proved the worth of that force unseen
And made you long for what might have been
Or in the future this written word
May plead uotes in my voice unheard
To make you pause at the broken line
And sigh apd say, “All his life was mine!”
Ah, then perchance I shall hear the grass
Pressed softly back as your footsteps pass
To bring where my sightless eyes may sec
The tear for my grave, dented to me.
Nay, do not come, for I think my love
Would burst t he cerements, the weight above.
And my fierce arms strive through turf and
For you. with that force you feared of old!
No, no; t would not that all the pain
I feel by you should be felt again.
I would not, though heaven before me shone.
Bring you to know all that I have known.
Live on, to think that the wound has healed
With never a scar to bo revealed;
When we two meet in the coming years.
Peace to your smiles, and to me no tears'.
—T. R. Sullivan in Scribner’s.
We were a merry party strolling among
the woods and waters of the Adirondack*
—magical word to summon up visions oi
nature in her sublime grandeur—lake
upon lake sparkling in the summer sun
like liquid diamonds; forest blending intc
forest until they melted in the misty
shadows of the blue horizon; mountain*
rising beyond mountains in the distance
until their pinnacles towered above us
like giant fingers pointing upward; deep
abysses where the torrents roared and
thundered and the fleeting shadows lurk
ed like phantoms.
We had cast life’s cares and responsi
bilities behind us and yielded ourselves
up to the grateful rest of the communion
with nature. Strolling in the forests,
just tinted with the first hues of autumn,
hunting on the lakes or fishing in the
teeming brooks—it was all one long
dream of happy luxury.
Yet we did not wander aimlessly. We
had a guide who chose our camps, coun
seled and led us on our expeditions, and,
concerning him, one word. He was an
Indian—one of the few survivors of the
once powerful nation of the Iroquois—a
tall, angular, keen eyed man past the
middle age, the sinews of whose lean
body seemed molded of iron. Quiet, re
served, speaking but seldom and then
briefly and to the purpose, he had yet
worked his way deep into our regard,
for as Colonel Hood afterward remarked,
“He was a brave man and a fine shot,
and what more could you ask?”
Brave he was certainly, as this narra
tive will go to show, and a fine shot, as
his prowess among the game had time
and again proved. We called him John,
but his name was Wahneema, and he
had the proud blood of chiefs coursing m
his veins.
Word came to us one morning that the
track of deer had been discovered on the
banks of a stream a mile or more up the
It happened to be Sunday, a beautiful
day, and the majority of the party, wea
ried by a week of such active life, pre
ferred to remain in our cozy little camp
on the borders of the lake. But Colonel
Hood and myself, the two most ardent
and experienced hunters present, shoul
dered our rifles and announced our de
termination to bag one or more of those
deer ere we returned. Jolin quietly picked
up his gun and took the lead as we set off.
A tiresome climb over rocks and fallen
trees finally brought us to our destina
tion—a little mountain lake, from which
the stream dashed in a foaming torrent,
fierce and irresistible. Here we paused
to recover breath and enjoy the prospect.
A beautiful scene it was too!
Above us rose the grand mountains,
their tops blushing crimson in the rising
sun; here a little waterfall, like a thread
of gold and silver, flashing down the
mountain side and twining in and out
among the masses of trees and rocks;
there a glimpse of fairyland through a
forest opening. The lake, surrounded by
dense masses of foliage, sparkled like a
jewel set in green, and on its surface
floated water fowl of every kind. But
no deer were visible. W e searched the
bank, but even John’s practiced eye
failed to find the traces.
“Either we have been deceived or the
tracks are to be met on the opposite
margin,” said the colonel. “I don’t in
tend to return until I am satisfied. So
here goes.”
He hastily threw off his coat and vest,
but was checked by John laying a hand
on his shoulder.
“Better not risk it, chief,” he said
quietly; “the suction of the rapids is ter
I fancied he wTas more anxious than he
chose to revfal and added my own ex
postulations, but Hood was obdurate.
Nothing could restrain him when once
his mind was made up, and he had de
termined to find the traces of those deer.
“I will make a detour wide enough to
avoid the current,” he said and threw
off all except shirt and trousers.
John shook his head, but stood leaning
on his gun without offering further pro
The colonel plunged in—a grave mis
take, of which he was only too soon to
learn the consequences. I can see him
now, striking out with even, powerful
strokes for the opposite shore; turning
neither to right nor left, yet warily veer
ing off from the dangerous rapids. But,
alas! he had fatally miscalculated the
grasp of their ravenous claws.
Even while admiring his perfect free
dom in the element, I noticed that he
was being drawn from the line of his
course—gently, almost imperceptibly at
first, but gaining in velocity as he neared
the treacherous suction. In an instant I
realized his peril and sprang down the
bank with a loud cry of warning. He
cast a hasty glance to where the mist of
the seethipg waters hung on the air like
a cloud, then turned and struck out for
she open lake. But tie precaution came
too late—too late!
For one moment he held his own
?,gainst the current, advancing not an
inch, notwithstanding his desperate
strokes, and then suddenly, quicker than
eye could follow or pen could describe,
he was seized in the grasp of a giant
hand, resistless in its might, and whirled
away like a shaft from the bow.
Down! down! he went, along the speed
ing waters, smooth as glass, into the vor
tex of the whirlpool, where they writhed
and hissed and thundered on the jagged
rocks. A single cry escaped him—a cry
that rolled from shore to shore and died
in quavering echoes high among the
mountain gorges. Then he ceased to
struggle, and his head fell limply back as
the mist closed round his sinking form.
May 1 never feel again the agony of im
potent helplessness I endured that mo
ment! My friend, the schoolmate of my
boyhood, the beloved companion of my
later years, rushing to a horrible death
before my eyes and I unable to stretch
out a helping hand. Was there no escape
—no help?
Ah, yes, brave John! noble heart of oak!
As I sit here calmly writing in my study,
how I long to grasp again that sturdy
hand that may meet mine no more!
He had seen the colonel’s peril as I
gave my warning cry, and in the mo
ment of my confusion had time to grasp
the situation and discern with unerring
judgment the only possible mode of res
cue. A man born and bred to the sud
den dangers of the wilderness acts with
almost instinctive precision, while others
stand helplessly by. And so, even as I
watched with anguished heart the strug
gles of my friend, he had sped from my
side, casting away his gun as he went.
He reached the brink of the rapids and
paused. One hasty glance at the colonel’s
body, borne on the crest of the speeding
current—one swift scrutiny of the furious
waters that seethed and boiled before
him—and then he gathered himself like
a panther about to spring.
I watched him, spellbound, fascinated
by the noble daring of the deed he con
templated. Full 15 feet from the shore
in midstream rose a large rock of rugged
granite, against which the angry waters
roared in impotent fury, and toward this
grim buttress the colonel’s helpless body
was hurrying head foremost. He must
reach that rock before the drowning man
or all was lost.
A second’s pause, during which these
objects flashed before me like a vision,
and then John made the effort. Like a
panther he had crouched, like a panther
he sprung, and as his lean body shot out
over the waters my prayers went with
him. Would he make it? Yes, thank
God! He cleared the rapids and gained
a foothold on the slippery rock, clutch
ing it with both hands as he landed.
There was not an instant’s x>anse.
With the agility of a cat he swung round
the crag just as my friend shot toward
him. I saw him make a desperate clutch
—saw a brief struggle in the mist and
turmoil—and the next I was aware a
limp form lay upon the rock beside him.
How human strength could overcome
the momentum of that furious eddy is
more than I can realize, but John was
more than human—he was a man of
Then I bestirred myself, and under the
Indian’s calm directions we got the colo
nel’s unconscious form ashore by means
of ropes, which we always carried with
us. John followed next, clinging to the
cord I had attached to a point of rock.
The noble fellow made light of his brave
deed and seemed only anxious to escape
any tokens of gratitude.
Well, we bore the colonel into camp,
where he lay prostrated for many days.
Blit he recovered in time and is now
well and prosperous. And, be sure, his
prosperity has benefited the savior of
his life.
And John? 1 have never seen the
brave fellow since and probably never
shall again. But of this I am certain—
in one comer of my heart I shall always
hold his memory green.—C. G. Archer
in Cincinnati Post.
How tho Czar Takes Exercise.
The czar takes a visible delight in man
ual labor, which in his case is a physical
necessity no less than a favorite pastime.
He unhesitatingly puts his hand to any
kind of work that has to be done, but his
usual occupation is to fell huge trees,
saw them into planks, plane them and
generally prepare them for the cabinet
maker. In winter the gardeners have
strict orders not to clear away the snow
from the avenues and walks in the park,
which is invariably left for his majesty,
who, attired in a short gray jacket (too
shoc ka), shovels it up into enormous
mounds and then transfers it to a cart.
It occasionally happens, when he cannot
complete the task he had set himself
within the time at his disposal, that his
children lend their assistance and cart
away the snow to a remote part of the
grounds.—Contemporary Review.
Declined the Test.
During the war a contractor made to
Secretary Cameron a proposition to sup
ply breastplates for the Union soldiery at
so much a thousand. After he had used
up much valuable time in expatiating on
the merits of his protective armor, the
secretary said:
“You will guarantee it buliet proof?”
“Absolutely so.” replied the applicant
for a contract.
“Very well, then,” said Mr. Cameron.
“Just put on the samples you have been
showing me, and stand on the other side
of the' room while I try a few shots at
you with this pistol. If you remain un
hurt, I shall be convinced of the useful
ness of your breastplate.”
Strange to say, the contractor refused
to accede to the suggestion, and no armor
was provided for the Federal soldiers.—
Washington Star.
A Small Boy’s Bluff.
“Johnny, where is Saskatchewan on
the map?”
“I know where it is well, teacher, but
I am so short that I cannot reach up to
indicate the exact spot."
“Then let me give you a pointer,”
said the teacher. And then Johnny
flunked. —Harper’s Bazar.
Keeps the scalp
clean, cool, healthy.
The Best
Restores hair
which has become
thin, faded, or gray.
Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co.
Lowell, Mass.
£JjV o f-’ -r M
cBjfcrW* Oentu i\y
■MICE-»Z-SENT Wf- •AD0(f5J‘
Cores Consumption, Coughs, Croup, Sore
Throat. Sold by all Druggists on a Guarantee.
Fora Lame Side, Back or Chest Shiloh's Porous
Plaster will give great satisfaction.—35 Gents.
Mrs. T. S. Hawkins, Chattanooga, Tenn., says:
"Shiloh's Vitalizer'SAVED MY LIFE.' I
consider it thebest remedy for adeMUtatedsystem
I ever used." For Dyspepsia, Liver or Kidney
trouble it excels. Price 75 eta.
Have you Catarrh? Try this Remedy. Itwill
relieve and Cure you. Price 50 cts. This In
jector for its successful treatment is furnished
free. Shiloh's Remedies are sold by us on a
guarantee to give satisfaction.
For sale by A. McMillen, druggist.
trade marks,
For information and free Handbook write to
MUNN k CO., 361 Broadway, New York.
Oldest bureau for semiring patents In America.
Every patent taken out by us Is brought before
the public by anotice given free of charge In the
Largest circulation of any scientific paper In the
world. Splendidly illustrated. No intelligent
man should be without it. Weekly, $3.00 a
year; $L50slx months. Address MUNN & CO
Publishers, 361 Broadway, New York City.
toft Cotton Root
A recent discover/ 1 7 eld
physician. l't:rce*sjuUy :i. L
monthly by thoasunus of I. i
tdus. isth.only periect.y safe
aud reliable medicine discov
ered. Beware of unprincipled
druggists who offer inferior
medicines in place of this. Ask for Cook’s Cotton
Root Compound, take ro substitute, or inclose* 1 ami
C cents in postage in letter, and we will Bond, scan (l,
by > eturn maiL Full sealed particulars in plain
envelope, to ladies only. 2 stamps.
Address Pond Lily Company,
No. 3 Fisher Flock, Detroit, —lch.
_ For sale by L. \Y. McConnell & Co., G. M.
Chenery, Albert McMillen in McCook and
by druggists everywhere.
J- S. AIcKrayek. Milton Osborn.
^cSr«er & oseo%
Proprietors of the
McCook Transfer Line,
13ns. Baggage and Express.
....In the City....
Leave orders for Bus Calls at Commercial
Hotel or our office opposite depot.
J. S. McBrayer also has a first
class house-moving outfit.
Palace llupcf) Roorp.
C. B. OKAY, Propr.
| The Finest
Bill of Fare
I In the City...
__ 1
Heals Served at all Hours, Day or
Neat Appartments for Ladles During Day or
Evening Lunches.
tsroppomte Commercial Hotel....
A lieliablP person in every town to take
the exclusive agency of the
J World's
SI Columbian
% Exposition
r\ Illustrated.
Authentic Organ of the Fair.
Established 1H90.
Groat Opportunity to make Money
for the next year.
One Chance
in a Lifetime...
Enclose 15c in stamps for sample and full
...particulars ..
159 Adams St.. Chicago.
For Just A
Fifty Cents c|p
We Will Send
For the balance of this year. Send
in your order at once.
Are Headquarters
They Carry the
Largest Stock in McCook,
And the only Complete Line in
Southwestern Nebraska.
When You Need Anything Their Line...
2ear of the Famous.
S. D. McClain. Frank Nichols.
S. D. MCcLAIN & CO.,
Well Drillers.
Guarantee all Work to be
£3gFDrclers may be left at S. M.
Cochran & Co.’s store in McCook,
Livery, Feed &, Boarding
Lindner Barn, McCook, Neb.
Good Rigs and Reasonable Prices.
EiPFirst-class care given boarding
horses, and charges fair. Call and
give me a trial. '