Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 261, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 November 1913 — Page 2

BEFORE THE FLAMES

By JUNE GALIAN.

Helena Storrs stared resentfully after the Eastern Express as it dwindled to a black spot in the distance. When it had quite disappeared from eight and the black smoke had drifted away into the sagebrush, she turned and surveyed her surroundings. The station agent was watching her curiously from the open doorway. She was worth looking , at, too, this beautiful daughter of John Henry Storrs, the financier; she was very lovely in her plain blue cloth traveling gown and chic little hat, with the late afternoon sun turning her hair to red and gold and warming the rose and ivory tints of her complexion. The station agent jumped when Helena suddenly fixed her lovely gray eyes on him. "Is there a garage near by?” she asked, pleasantly. The station agent scratched his head. “Lord, miss, there ain't a motor • car short of Cheyenne, I guess.” Miss Storrs looked displeased. “What a desolate spot!” she exclaimed. “Can you tell me when the next train is due?” “There ain’t another one till morning, miss. This one wouldn’t have stopped only there was something wrong with her engine. They ought not to have let you off the train at all." >

“I threatened to report them if they did not,” siid Helen, haughtily. “What am I to do?” she asked. The answer to her question came in an unexpected way. There was the sound of wagon wheels and the clatter of hoofs and around the bend of the trail there whirled a light buckboard driven by a man in a broad-brimmed hat. He handled the fiery black horses skillfully and brought the wagon wheels to a standstill without an inch to spare beside the station platform. u. « “Hi, there, Jpnesey,” he sang lustily, “got an Oxpress package for me?” “Wait a minute, Jerry —it’s inside.” The agent hustled indoors. Presently he came out with a package, which he placed in the back of the wagon. . t Then he conversed in low tones with the driver. Helena surmised that they might be talking about her and she fblt uncomfortably at a disadvantage. She stepped , from the platform, went around the side of the station and, without a glance at the men, turned into the dusty trail that led to Duggold—ten miles away. She had walked perhaps half a mile when there came the clatter of hoofs behind her. She did not turn around. As the sound grew nearer she stepped aside into the sagebrush and kept on at a quicker pace. Mingled with the hoofs were wagon wheels; they passed her and then etopped, sending up a choking cloud of dust.

"I beg your pardon,” said a pleasant voice, "but 'would you not like to ride to Duggold?" “Thank you, no,” she said, stiffly; "I prefer to walk.” “It is a tough walk,” said the stranger a little insistently, Helen thought; "especially if you are not acquainted with the region. You may meet all sorts of people—the grass is afire at Fox creek and it is coming this way." Helena looked around and saw coming from the east a cloud of gray •moke. * Birds were flying before the wind and little charred shreds of grass drifted past. “Fire?” asked Helena. “Do you mean that they are permitting the fire to get beyond control?” The . man laughed shortly. “The fire had been Beyond control from the beginning. There is little hope that it will stop at the trail. I did not know >t had gained such headway or I —l 'will try backfire! Step back, please, over there —on the other side of the trail,” he said. Helena obeyed, meekly following as he drove the horses several hundred yards into the sagebrush on the safe aide of the trail. “Stay close to the wagon—it’s your only way to escape.” He bent to touch a match to the grass on the eastern edge of the,trail. A long line pf red flames trickled up and down, fighting against the wind The man ran to ands fro. beating it back where it threatened to ignite the grass on the further side of the trail. At last the flames gathered headway and another cloud of smoke went out to meet the blacked cloud coming from the east. Helena felt the intense heat and under the man’s direction she drove the frightened horses still further to safety If Helena had not been a fearless horsewoman the terrified animals might have broken from her restraining hands.

"You’ve done nobly,” smiled her companion, when he rejoined her at last. "Now, if you will watch, you will see the backfire meet the fire from the east and there will be a struggle for supremacy —and they will eat each other up!" So absorbed did Helena and her companion become in watching the battle of the two wallq of flames that they were regardless of their own danger until suddenly a choking cloud of smoke enclosed them and there was the dull heat of approaching flames. “Done!*’ cried the mpn. ( angrily, snatching tip the reins. "We'll have a run for It, after all. It was idiocy on my part not to watch for a sneaking Jump across the trail further down i —weH, we've got If run for it,” he panted, leaning forward to lash the.

l€ was a never-to-be-forgotten ride across the fire-swept sagebrush. The wagon leaped from side to side and Helena was obliged to cling desperately to the strong arm of her companion to keep from falling out. At last one of the horses lurched forward and fell with a shrill scream of anguish. The other horse was dragged down with him and kicked frantically against the tangled traces. “Gopher hole!” muttered the man, jumping out and lifting Helena down. He went forward, bent over the fallen animals, and called back a word of warning to Helena. An instant later a shot rang out, there was a brief struggle, and the injured horse lay quiet. The stranger released the other animal from the traces, helped it to its feet, and then called to Helena. “It’s our only chance —can you stay on a horse?” “Try me!” cried Helena. In an instant he had tossed a blanket across the trembling animal, strapping it firmly in place. Then, with scant ceremoney, he lifted Helena to a seat, bidding her place one foot in the fold of the blanket. “In five minutes the fire will reach the wagon," he said. "It’s a ride for life —ready? Go!” Away went the black horse, with the man running swiftly alongside, one hand on the animal’s shoulder. Faster, faster, they went, with the flames gaining on them every instant. To Helena Storrs the ride was a reteidtion. Never before had she come so near to the very marrow of life. Here, fleeing before the blasting jwind, she might have been the primeval woman with primeval man at her side. At last the ground slopekl sharply over flinty stones. The horse stumbled bravely down the declivity, snorted with pleasure and waded into a wide creteft, where ,it stood, breathing heavily. The man leaned against thb animal and closed his eyes. The water coming to his knees roused him and he lifted his head and smiled at Helena. “I reckon we’re safe enough now,” he said. “You’re all tired out, eh?” “It was glorious,” said Helena, quietly. For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes, then Helena spoke nervously. “The Are cannot come beyond the creek 1 ” she said. “No. It will be pretty hot for awhile and we can keep cool in the water. After that —why, I’ll take you over to Duggold; my sister will make you welcome at my ranch. I suppose you left your money on the train?” Helena nodded.

“Well, Nancy can help you out,” he said practically. “Now prepare to keep your face wet and your eyes covered —another hundred yards and the flames will lick up this grass alongside the ■fcreek.” Helena never forgot that hour. The stranger made her get down into the water and wet her gown thoroughly. The heat from the approaching flames caused a steam to arise from the blue serge gown and the smoke was stifling, but Helena earned the eternal admiration of her companion by .Bor courage, and finally the flames flickeaed out and left a dreary black and smoking pairie. “Now, for home,” said the stranger, swinging Helena into the saddle and leading the horse up the opposite bank into the sagebrush. It was long after sunset when they dragged up the trail to Rainbow ranch, where Nancy Mather gave Helena a warm welcome. Nancy’s brother, Jerry, who had been Helena's companion, lingered a moment that night and spoke to his sister. “Nan," he said, seriously, “how would you like Miss Storrs for a sister?” “Jerry! At last?” asked Nancy, smiling incredulously. “So soon?” He nodded. “If I marry at all—it will be that girl,” he said, seriously, as he bent to kiss her good-night. “Good luck, then, brother. She's a dear!” cried Nancy. And when she was alone she murmured: “I’ll not tell him who she is! He will be surprised to find that he’s going to marry the rich Miss Storrs.”

And when the news was finally broken it was after he had won Helena’s consent to be his wife. Then his sturdy American independence asserted itself and he said tersely: “Nancy, I love her in spite of the money! Say, Nancy, you ought to have seen her the day of the fire!” (Copyright, 1913. by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

May Recover Antiquities.

An astonishing discovery has been made by some Greek sponge-fishers at Madhia on the Tunisian coast. Observing a mass of sunken wreckage, they examined it and noticed some statues ’lying among rotting timbers. The French authorities were quickly interested and sent a tug and two torpedo boats to the spot. The sunken vessel proved to be one of about four hundred tons and loaded with an enormous cargo of ancient household goods and statuary, including a Hennes bearing the name of Boethos. The whole of it has now teen recovered and is being examined and classified. Evidently it was a part of the Roman plunder from the sack of Athens, and probably the very ship described by Lucian as having been lost wjth its precious freight, including, says Lucian, a picture by Xeuxis.

Safe.

"My husband is hunting in the Adirondacks." “ crcy, aren’t you afraid hell be shot?” -h, no. You see, he’s disguised as a deer.”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

FRANCE’S DARK ARMY

With New Military Force Negro Peril Arrives. Public Opinion Undergoes ChangeDanger in the Project of Increasing African Legion to a Hundred X hOusand Men. Paris. —Is France destined to be overrun with blacks, as is certain parts of the United States? There are a number of thinking men here who see such a thing happening if what appears to be the republic’s ultimate military policy be carried out. “Black France.” . That is the latest Gaelic phrase to denote France’s black colonies in Africa and her own negro soldiers there. The average Frenchman thinks of it with a thrill of pride, but there are those who fear that the country is brewing for itself a pot of trouble, .without realizing it, through the fast increasing native African soldiery and the proposed importation of them into France. The falling birth rate has drastic action necessary. No attempt was made to conceal the fact that this was the cause for returning to the /three-year military service law just passed by both the chamber of deputies and the senate. But even with that addition, France’s standing army is not big enough; something else had to be done. That thing seems to be the formation of the mightiest negro legion the world has ever seen. Sensator Gervais is fighting for 100,000 black men, but others say that eventually there will be under the tricolor of France an army of native Africans 200,000 strong. The black soldier was sanctioned by law in 1910. There are 20,000 of- him already. The argument for the innovation is simple. France, being at a standstill, or worse, so far as population is concerned; and Germany, its mortal enemy, being on the rapid increase, it is pointed out that no other alternative presented itself. Manifestly France, with its 29,000,000 people, cannot provide a white army as big as can Germany with its more than 60,000,000. Germany’s new army law gives it about 900,000 soldiers on a peace footing; France’s new law gives it 729,000. In France every youth must serve three years, in Germany he serves two. Suppose Germany likewise should take the notion to adopt a three-year service. Germany would have far more than a million men ready to take the field at an Instant’s notice and France, having already gone its limit, would be helpless to meet the increase.

The only remedy for the situation, it is argued, is to introduce the negro into the military scheme. There are millions of negroes in France’s African dependencies, and Colonel Mangin and Colonel Marchand, heroic French leaders in Morocco, give them a good character. The thing to do is to use them,"they say. And there, in the opinion of many, is where the trouble would begin, for it has been found that In actual practice the Senegalian (a generic term applied to all France’s black troops whether Senegalians or not), Is not worth much more as a soldier unless he has his family with him. He must carry his wife—or wives—along to act as cook, porter and clothes mender, and without her he is utterly lost. Therefore, if the Senegalian be brought to France, Mrs. Senegalian will have to come, too, with the thousands upon thousands of little Senegalians trailing at her abbreviated skirt. ,

That, say those who have studied United States history, is where the trouble thickens. The first appearance of blacks upon the battlefields of Europe came during the Franco-Prussian war, France using its “Turcos,” as the Algerian troops were called, against-the Germans, evoking the bitterest criticism on the other side of the Rhine. France was charged with using "savages” against civilized people. If the negro is to be employed In Europe considerable preparation has to be done. The question of proper food, clothing and general living conditions will have to be studied- The white plague is frequent among negroes nowadays, and he is particularly susceptible to the dieease. The moral confusion resulting from a new code of manners would have to be forestalled. However, it is apparent that the French are pursuing a wise course In gradually habituating the black man to the new conditions and, what Is equally important, habituating public opinion to the notion that it has in these ebony soldiers a magnificent fighting force -capable of rendering the highest services to the mother country.

FAREWELL NOTE OF SUICIDE

No Pleasure In Life When Love Is Idle Youth Says Act Cowardly. New York. —A well-dressed, unidentified man about twenty-three years old, committed suicide by shqoting himself through the heart with a revolver on the Central Drive in Central Park. Patrolman Henderson heard the shot and found the body. There was nothing in the clothing that might lead to identification except a photograph of a young woman and the following letter: To the Police—This cowardly act of which I and no one else is responsible is all my fault. There is pleasure Ip life, but none when your love is idle. Do not try to find out anything about me, for it is of no naa."

ENGLISH GOLFERS TOURING COUNTRY

Edward Ray and Harry Vardon, the best of England’s professional golfers, who were beaten for the American open championship by young Francis Ouimet of Massachusetts, are now touring the United States playing exhibition games and special matches.

GENIUS IS DEFIANT

Laws of Eugenics Are Often Put Out of Joint. The Divine Spark Sometimes Spring* From Seemingly Ruinous Conditions, Says Secretary of Colorado State Board of Health. Denver, Col.—ls such a law as that recently passed In Wisconsin, forbidding the marriage of diseased persons and compelling the sterilization of defectives, had always been enforced three-fourths of the /world’s greatest geniuses would never have been born! This was the opinion expressed by Dr. Paul S. Hunter, secretary of the Colorado state board of health, as an answer to the statement of Surgeon General Blue in which the surgeon declared this country must stem the propogation of defectives and that the Wisconsin law is lhe Doctor Hunter declares that love will laugh at laws just as he has laughed at locksmiths. Following is Doctor Hunter’s statement:

“Theoretically, I am heartily in favor of prohibiting' the marriage of all men and women who cannot show a clean bill of health, but it does not work out in practice. The strongest parents bring forth puny children; the most moral produce immoral offspring. The old joke about the-minis-ter’s son is founded on history. “On the other hand, many of the weakest fathers and mothers, while transferring their weaknesses, such as drunkenness, insanity, perversion and all the traits Surgeon General Blue says would be eliminated by law, also pass on the ‘divine spark’ that has lighted the path of progress since time began.

“In fact, genius, nine times out of ten, is very closely allied with ill health, criminality, insanity or drunkenness. There are very few of our greatest poets, musician, painters, authors and other artists who were not afflicted with some weakness which was inherited from parents. “Wagner, Dean Swift and Charles Lamb were insane: Keats and Robert Louise Stevenson died of inherited tuberculosis; Coleridge and De Quincey were opium fiends; Pope was a dwarf, and Herbert Spencer was an invalid; Edgar Allen Poe \Vas mentally unbalanced and an inveterate user of drugs and drink; Goldsmith was called ’the inspiring idiot*; Rousseau and Oscar Wilde were mentally and physically unsound; Shakespeare was highly immoral also. It is hardly necessary to refer to Byron and Robert Burns, for their immorality tattoo well known. “It Is true that all these ills come down through heredity, but along with them comes that thing which has compelled every advancement in the world of literature, art, science and invention. The question of why great talent seldom accompanies physical health has never been answered.

“The present agitation over eugenics is not new. It began in Sparta before the time of Christ, when, in order to attain physical perfection as a race, all Imperfect babies were exposed on the mountain tops to die or receive strength from the gods. None but the strongest were allowed-to marry. This system produced the greatest physical giants of history, the most perfect animals of all time, but mentally the race became dwarfed; their brains went to seed. They produced no really great men, and distinguished themselves only In war and feats of strength.

“If the plans of the eugenics enthusiasts were carried out In the one matter of prohibiting marriage of persons who drink, 60 per cent., of the American people would be old maids and bachelors. It is evident from this how long it will be before such a law becomes general. “And if the nation does not get law compelling every man and woman to produce a physician’s certificate, it will not accomplish the desired result, for doctors’ certificates are cheap these days. Any couple intent upon getting could get 50 certificates in a day, despite their state of health, if they had the price."

KING FINDS LOST RED EAGLE

Decoration of Coveted Order Returns to Charles of Roumania After Many Years. Berlin.—ln tearing down, a house on Jacobstrassesome laborers found a decoration of the coveted Order of the Red Eagle, advertised the fact in the newspapers and King Charles of Roumania claimed it When he was a student in Berlin many years ago the order was awarded to him by King William of Prussia, but he mislaid it that very evening. All these years it lay wedged between the wall

King Charles of Roumania.

and the bath. King Charles wore the decoration on his visit to Berlin in September to attend the marriage of his niece, Princess Augusting Victoria of Hohenzollern, to ex-King Manuel.

A BAD MAN’S LAST WORDS

After Being Shot Dying Mexican Bandit Curses His Maker and American People. Los Angeles, Cal.—Antonio Marietta, said by the police to be one of the most notorious burglars and hold-up men in Sonora, Mepu. and Arizona, was shot and fatally wounded hfere by L. D. McCartney, a pawnbroker. ' According to McCamey’s story of the shooting. Murietta went into his establishment and, white ostensibly trying to pawn .one watch, attempted to steal another. McCartney sent a clerk for an officer and tried to hold Murietta himself. Murietta struck the pawnbroker twice and dashed for the door. Then McCartney shot him. In a dying statement Murietta cursec God and the American people.

CAMP FIRE STORIES

HIS FIRST TIME UNDER FIRE Rather Hot Initiation of a New York Boy at Batchelder’s Creek—Carried Supplies to Front On February 1, 1864, I did my first duty as a soldier, the detail being a corporal and three men of the 12th N. Y. Cavalry in a swampy pine forest bordering the Trent and Neuss rivers in North Carolina. The duties of the cavalry at that point—Batchelder’s Creek, about nine miles from Newbern —were of the easiest kind, writes Frank Salter of Oak Hill, Kan., in the National Tribune. At night we were withdrawn to the east side of the creek, leaving a corporal and three infantrymen on the west side of the bridge—the planks of which were all removed save one—to give the alarm should the enemy make his appearance. The squad consisted of about 30 men of the 132nd N. Y. and the detail of cavalry already mentioned. About 3 o’clock in the morning, the rebels came in in a .hurry, and their ear-splitting yell brought every man to his post—3o men to 10,000, and only a narrow strip of water between ! True, the creek was deep, the banks steep and'' the night dark. I have ‘always felt surprised that the rebels did not know of some point along the creek that would afford easy passage. However, these Tew men, strengthened by two or three companies, held these thousands at bay till the sun was many hours high. Soon after daylight our captain arrived. and for a time we were kept waiting for orders about half a mile In the rear of the fighting, but the hot work they were engaged in soon exhausted their ammunition, and as the enemy were felling trees to effect a passage it was not deemed wise to drive |an ammunition wagon nearer the scene of action, so about hqlf a dozen of us were detailed to carry supplies to the front. As each box contained about 1,000. cartridges, and the sand was ankle-deep. It was no light task, and my comrades fell behind, some dropping their loads and sitting on them as if the occasion was not urgent. I pushed ahead and soon came to a bend in the road about 50 yards from the bridge. As I turned into the bend —my load was getting heavy—l could see men on my right clinging very close to the ground and facing west, And on my left the branches -dropped from a grove of saplings. Strange sounds —"zip,” “zip”—struck my ear, for it was my first time under Are.

As I approached the breastworks Lieutenant Zenetti of the 132nd walked from behind them and came toward me, and when about three yards separated us he was struck in the head, not moving a muscle after he fell. ' My load was soon in possession of the gallant Infantrymen, and, having no further orders, I joined tho string of men who were trying to discover the “other fellows” on the opposite side of the creek. But we were not allowed to stay there long. Fifteen minutes afterwards a rebel yell told us that they had succeded In felling trees to form a bridge a little north of us, in spite of the fierce resistance, and that it was time for us to be moving. The obstinate defense of the gallant New York boys gave the authorities time to get reinforcements from Morehead City and Beaufort, but the numerous little mounds In a small space opposite the temporary bridge bore mute testimony at what cost it was done.

On Crossing a River.

Lincoln’s reply to a Springfield clergyman, who asked him what was to be his policy on the slavery question, was most apt: “You know the old Methodist preacher out home?” said Lincoln. “Well, once a young Methodist was worrying about Fox river, and expressing fears that he should be prevented from, fulfilling some of his appointments by a freshet in the river. “ ‘Young man,’ said the old preacher, ‘I have always made it a rule in my life not to cross Fox river till I got to It.’ “And,” said the president, “I am not going to worry myself over the slavery question till I get to It.”

Cheers for the Ladles.

One Sunday three ladies called upon a certain general at the Union camp at Savannah. He stuck his head out of the flap of his tent, and whispered to Lis orderly: " Three chairs for the ladles.” The orderly got up on a box and shouted to the boys in camp: "Three cheers for the ladies.” The boys took it up with a will.

Diplomacy.

One day a huge Irish batteryman, stood in the crowd at the sutler’s at Nashville. Presently a little Irishman rushed up, flung his coat on the ground, threw his hat beside it, and, jumping on them, yelled in a high voice, quivering with rage: **Ol wud loike to find th' mon that b’ate up poor Tim Murphy.” The big Irishman tapped his chest. “Ol’m th' ipon,” he bellowed hoarsely. The little Irishman whirled around. “Gee,*’ he piped. “Y« did him dp .’olne."