Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 293, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 December 1913 — JOHN RAWN PROMINENT CITIZEN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

JOHN RAWN PROMINENT CITIZEN

by EMERSON HOUGH

THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE; 51-10 OR FIGHT. ILLUSTRATIONS

SYNOPSIS. John Rawn is born In Texas. Early In life he shows signs of masterfulness ano inordinate selfishness. He marries Laura Johnson He Is a clerk in a St. Louis railway office when his daughter Grace is born. Years later he hears Grace s lover, a young engineer named Charles Halsey, speak of a scheme to utilize the lost current of electricity. He appropriates the idea as his own and induces Halsey to perfect an experimental machine. He forms a company, with himself as presldent, at a salary of SIOO,OOO a year and Halsey as superintendent of the works at a salary of $5,000. Rawn takes charge of the office in Chicago. Virginia Delaware is assigned as his stenographer; She assists in picking the furniture and decoration for the princely, mansion Rawn has erected. Mrs. Rawn feels out of place in the new surroundings. Halsey goes , to New York with Rawn and Miss Delaware to explain delays in perfecting the new motor to the impatient directors. He gets a message that a deformed daughter has been born to his wife. Grace Rawn. Rawn bargains with Miss Delaware to wear his jewelry and appear in public with him, as a means to help him in a business way. Rawn Is fortunate In market speculations, piles up wealth and attains prominence. He frets because his Wife does not rise with him In a social way. He gives her a million dollars to leave him. He asks his daughter, Mrs. Halsey, to ’take charge of hfs household. Grace moves to Graystone hall, and Halsey continues to live alone In the cottage near the works.

CHAPTER X.—Continued.

Rawn asked nothing better than this idea. It was beautiful, and he valued it over all his many and various other ventures. He could let his silent partner put other men out of work; and so these could be rehired at such price as he himself cared to set. He saw the time approach when he would be able to retail at a price, remote from his silent, tireless partner’s labors, merchantable packages of power, to feed a cart, a plow, a wheel of any sort; power to lift and labor, to toil ceaselessly without remonstrance. It was and is a splendid dream. Its bearing is as you be Rawn or Halsey. That power shall labor for or against mankind as ourselves shall say. Shall we blame ourselves, or John Rawn. in this republic, that he saw on ahead only limitless personal pow j er, limitless gold, jewels, wine, women, personal indulgence of any sort that appealed to him? Shall we blame Halsey for dreading the issue of these plans, delaying them all he could; clinging to the belief that the earth was the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; and that the Lord gave it to all mankind? And shall we blame the stockholders for being impatient at renewed delays? The wire transmission was installed, making every man in the International rich. Yet every man in the secret of the real ambition of this company burned inwardly at this enforced secrecy and this unseemly delay. The mysterious factory at the edge of the great inland city still was silent. The directors raged. They wanted to drain to the last drop the strength even of this tireless giant. They wanted to begin to bottle, measure and sell, sell for ever, the very force which holds the spheres in their places In time we shall perhaps see completed what these men planned. There is no logical reason why, if one planet can be owned by a John Rawn or so, yet others should not For a long time Jim Sullivan, foreman at the factory of the International, wondered and pondered as to the real intent of these strange machines which he saw little by little growing up under the uncommunicative direction of the superintendent, Halsey. He had never seen anything like them, with their vast colls of insulation, their intricate cogs and wheels, their centrally-hidden huge glass jars, and the long, toothed ridge, like a delicate metal comb, which surmounted the top of each. There was something mysterious about it all. He was sure that Halsey did something with these machines when the men were not about. The very air seemed throbbing with some tense quality of mystery. The men themselves were suspicious, irritable. Never was the air in any factory more surcharged alike with ignorance and with anxiety. Man after man, good mechanic though he was, quit the place simply because he did not know what he was doing. The feeling of mystery was tense, oppres sive. On one certain Sunday morning Jim Sullivan strolled over to the vacant factory He knew that the superintendent had spent almost the entire night there working alone on one of these mysterious machines. It stood there now. And —yes! it was different from what it had been when Sullivan last saw it! It was now apparently complete, so far as he could tell. There was no one near it. Halsey had gone home, to bed. Of late he bad been very tired, pale, haggard; and he always was at work in the factory, when good men slept, and knew lightwinged dreams. Jim Sullivan stood now looking at the grim, uncanny machine, hands in his pockets, wondering. He looked about him. auperstitiously. There seemed to be something in the air. he could not explain what. He turned looking behind him. and tiptoed to the front door, where Tim, Carney, the blue-coated guardian, stood leaning against the wall "Tim!*’ be whispered, although there was none to bear. ’’Come on in here'” j •What is it Jim?*’ asked the watch

“I dunno; that’s why I’m callin’ you.” “Has anny wan broke into th’ place?” "Not as I know, but somethin’s happened here. I’m figurin’ ’twas the boss done it. Come in and have a luk, now. He’s gone home.” They stepped gingerly on across the floor, along the row of unfinished machines, and paused at the one farthest from the door, which had excited Jim’s curiosity.

"Here’s where the boss worked all last night!” whispered the foreman hoarsely. "’Twas daybreak when he come home, an’ he was all in. He’s been workin’ on her before ‘ now, I know that. I’m thinkip’ she’s about done, belike!” . ■

"Whatever kind of a spook Joint is this, anyhow, Jim?” demanded the watchman. “What’s she for, do ye think now?” They two, bullet-headed, hairy, heavy and powerful, stood looking at this contrivance, whose growth through many months they had been watching. The value of it either could measure in comprehensible terms. It was worth ten thousand dollars to either of them who would —and could —tell a certain man how it was made. "I dunno what she’s for,” answered Jim slowly, “but I’m thinkin’ it’s no good at all. It’s the devil, maylike. Not that she’s so big neither. I could almost turn her over with a pinch bar.” He pointed to an arm, or lever, which stood at the side of the machine. "She looks somethin’ like one o’ them drills I used to run- in th' tunnel, time Hogan was mayor, do ye mind ? Whin we wanted to- throw her in we pushed down an arm, somethin’ like this.”

“Sure, Jim, ’tis you have the head fer machines. I dunno about thirn at

all,” rejoined Tim, scratching his head. “But ’tis a shame we can’t throw her in, now. Manny a time I’ve wondered what ’twas all about in here. Why shud strangers be so anxious as

“She luks like a patent gate In a flnce, as much as annytblng else,” commented Jim. "But as fer throwin’ her in, how cud we? She’s attached to nothin’ at all, so there’s nothin’ to throw her into. She’s got no wire or cord runnin’ to her unless belike it comes up through the flure. She looks like she was some sort of motor, but how she’s to run I dunno. Now if she was geared to annything, you cud throw her in, mostlike, by this thing here. It luks like she was done, and if she is, I don’t know why the boss wud go away and leave the roof open over her.” He pointed to a sliding window In the roof directly above thp machine. He then reached out and swung some of his weight upon the end of the engaged arm or lever. Then, to the joint surprise of the two observers, a very singular thing forthwith occurred.

“What happened, as nearly as either of them later could describe it. might have been called a duplication in large of the phenomena of Halsey’s original motor, with which he burst the fan <n the railway office at St. Louis. There was a low crackling in the air. a dancing series of blue flame points along the toothed ridge. Then began a low purr, as of a motor in full operation. They could see sparks emitted, somewhere at the interior of the intricate machinery A living, splitting, crackling roar filled the air about them—the roar of the shackled river, far away, raging at the violence done it! A projecting shaft, fitted with a pulley head, began to revolve, taster and faster, until its, speed left it apparently motionless Something had happened, they knew not what The machine was alive! Some force seemed to come down out of the air. to locate itself somewhere within this Intricate mechanism. They stood, two bullet-headed, hairy, poverful men, looking at wbat they,, had done.

"Do ye mind that now?" gapped Jim ; Sullivan, and wrenched at the lever, restoring it to Its original position , The purring of the motor ceased, the blue sparks disappeared, the roar sub- | s*ed growlingly. \

“What was It?" demanded Tim Car ney. “Throw her in again, Jim!” "Not on yer life!” gasped Jim Sullivan. “I dunno what ’tis, but I’ll take no chances with the divil an his works, on a Sunday .leastways. There’s somethin’ wrong in here',’ I’m tellin’ you, Tim. What made her go, I dunno. She's under power, same like a compressed air drill—but where’d she git her power?—the divil’s in It that’s all, Tim. I’m tbinkin’ the best we can do is to git away from here. Come, shut the dure —an’ watch it Me, I’m goin’ to the praste ag’in this very day! I see now what that felly wanted!” Jim Sullivan locked the door and left his friend guarding it; then hurried acrossthe street to the superintendent’s cottage. Mrs. Sullivan, busy there about her morning duties, would have stopped him, but Jim would have no denial, and hastening up the stairs to Halsey’s bedroom, impetuously demanded entrance. Halsey, drawn, haggard, unshorn, greeted.him, half sitting up in bed. “What’s wrong, Jim?” he demanded. “Has anybody got into the works?”

“Hush, boy!” said Jim, his finger on his lips. “You need tell me nothin’. But I know what it’s all about.” Halsey sat looking at him dumbly. “Fire me if you like, my son,” went on Jim Sullivan. “ ’Tis true I’ve done what 1 had no right to do. Mr. Halsey, sir, I thro wed her in!” “You did what?” “I throwed her in. An' she worked —she worked like a bird! Then I throwed her out ag’in an’ come away an’ locked the door. Tim was there, too. Tis none of my But I’ve come to tell you the truth, an’ you can fire me if you like! But it’s hell, it’s harnessed hell ye’ve got in there. An’ others want to stale it.”

By this time Halsey was getting into his clothing and only half listening to what his foreman said.

“What kills me is, I can’t see how she works! She runs by herself all the time, chuggin’ like a fire ingin. But where does she git it?” Halsey made no answer. He was pale as a dead man. A few moments later they were hurrying down' the stair, across the street, and through the long, deserted room with Its rows of gaunt enginery. They stood before the completed receiver, whose motor so perfectly had caught the power of the free second current from the air —Jdin Rawn’s costless, stolen power.

"What makes her go?” s demanded Jim Sullivan. "Fer what is the hole in the roof yon?”

Halsey turned to him. "it’s the Mississippi river makes it go, Jim. If we didn’t leave a hole in the roof how could the river go through? Now do you understand?’’ “My boy,” said Jim kindly, laying a large hand on his shoulder, “you’re off your nut, of course. I don’t blame ye, workin’ so long as ye have, an’ worryin’. ’Tis a rest ye must be takin’ now, or they’ll be puttin’ ye in the bughouse fer fair!” “You’re right!” said Halsey. “I think I’ll just take a little ride this afternoon. Jim, come here and help me. I wrnnt to see if we can charge up this electric car. If I can do that, Jim, my boy. I’ll be richer by six o’clock than either of us ever dreamed of being!” Shaking his head dubiously, the big foreman lent a hand, and between them they managed to roll the car into place. “Want to throw her down again. Jim?” demanded Halsey, motioning to the lever and grinning. That worthy shook his head.

“I’m scared of her, Mr. Halsey, that I am!”

"And well you may be!” was Halsey’s Comment. He himself threw down an arm on the opposite side of the receiver. This time the motor did not resume its purring, the shaft did not revolve.

“She’s bruk!” said Jim. Halsey only pointed to the blue tips of toothed ridge. "No,” said he, “she’s only doing another part of her work. The power is going into the auto’s motor instead of this. Two forms, you see, Jim.”

A faint spark showed at the transmitter connection. “Come!” said Halsey. “Let her work! We don’t need to now.”

That afternoon, Charles Halsey took his seat at the steering wheel of an electric car which had been charged with power taken from the air without wire transmission. His task was done. He had accomplished what he had started out to do. Throbbing beneath him was power, the power of yonder distant silent partner, power taken from the earth, and the air, and the water: power of the elements; and

power now ’definite, segregant. merchantable!?

Halsey kicked in the gear and rolled out into the street. Pale, preoccupied, he hardly noted where he was going; but found a maze of ill-paved, crowded thoroughfares; until at length he reached the West side boulevard system. Thence he crossed the river to the east, and hea’ded north. Strbng and true, under a limit charge, the motor purred beneath him. The mechanism of the car operated without defect. Nothing in the least seemed wrong at any particular. nni did the ear in any particular differ in appearance from others of its humble and inconspicuous class. None the less, midway of one of the large parks along the lake shore, young Halsey suddenly disengaged the gear, cut off his power, and applied the brakes. He was perhaps half way from his home on the journey to Graystone hall. . . . For a little time

he sat in the car. pale, almost motionless, deep in thought; jcareless of the passing throng-Of other vehicles, t|ie occupants of which regarded him curiously. Then, suddenly, he threw in the gear again, turned on the current; and, quickly turning about, retraced his course. He had been gone less than an hour when he stood once more at the curb of his cottage near the factory in the western suburb of the city.-

“So you’re back again, sir!” commented Jim Sullivan. “An’ did ye get all that sudden wealth ye was tellin’ me about, at all?”

Halsey sat staring at him for a time. “No,” said he, “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to wait a while.” The foreman turned and tiptoed off to find fils wife. “Annie,” said he. his voice low and anxious, “try if ye can get the boss to bed, an’ make him sleep as long as ever he can. He’s goin’ off his head, an’ talkin’ like a fool. Somethin’s wrong here, that’s sure! Hell’s goin’ to break loose, in yon facthr’y some day. But whativer comes, the boss is crazy!”

CHAPTER XI. 0 The Baker’s Daughter. A large part of our ambitious American population is prone boastfully to ascribe its origin to one or other of those highly respectable, if really little known monarchs to whom is commonly accorded the foundation of old world nobilities. We have built up a pretty fiction regarding so-called blue blood, on the flattering, but wholly unsupported supposition that royal Qualities are transmissible to the thirtieth and fortieth generation; so that ’tis a poor American family Indeed cannot boast its coat of arms, harking back to royal days of Charlemagne or William the Conqueror. It may be. Their majesties were active, morganatically at least no doubt, much-mar-ried men!

But continually there arise disturbing instances to upset us in our beliefs regarding aristocracy. There are so very many worthless aristocrats, in whom the theory of descent did not work out according to accepted schedule; and there are so very many worthy but wholly disconcerting men who are not aristocrats —so continually do Lincolns arise who, claiming nothing of birth or breeding, show themselves to be possessed of manhood, show themselves, moreover, masters of those instincts and practices which go with the much-abused title of gentleman: a matter in which not all descendants of Charles or William join them. It is well known among theatrical managers that no real lady can imitate a real lady. The highest salaries in ladies’ theatrical roles are paid to ladles who are not ladies, but who play the parts of ladies as they think ladies really would act in actual life. If you seek a woman to carry off a gown, one to assume such really regal air as shall bring the name of William or Charlemagne impulsive to your lips, find one still owning not more than one of the requisite three generations which are set as the lowest limit for the production of a gentleman or a lady. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

"Do You Mind That Now?"