Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 87, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 April 1914 — Page 2

SYNOPSIS. The story opens with Jesse Smith relating the story of his birth, early life in Labrador and of the-death of his father. Jesse becomes a sailor. His mother marries the master of the ship and both are lost in the wreck of the vessel. Jesse becomes a cowboy In Texas. He marries Polly, a singer of questionable morals, who later is reported to have committed suicide. Jesse becomes a rancher and moves to British Columbia. Kate Trevor takes up the narrative. Unhappily married she contemplates suicide, but changes her mind after meeting Jesse. Jesse rescues Kate from her drink-maddened husband who attempts to kill her. Trevor loses his life in the rapids. Kate rejects offers of grand opera managers to return to the stage and marries Jesse. Their married life starts out happily. Kate succumbs to the pleadings of a composer to return to the stage and runs away with him. She rescues Widow O’Flynn from her burning house, is badly burned herself and returns home, where Jesse reeelves her with open arms

CHAPTER VI. Robbery-Under-Arms. Kate’s Narrative. ' ■ We have started a visitor’s book It opens with press cuttings of interviews jvith Professor Bohns, the famous archaeologist, who came to examine the paleolithic deposits at South Cave. Next are papers relating to a summons for assault, brought by the late Mr. Trevor against J. Smith. But the gem of our collection Is a letter of lengthy explanation from an eminent Italian cur, who spent a whole month at the ranch last winter. Nobody is more hospitable, or more hungry for popularity than my dear man, but I think that special prayers should be offered for his visitors. He has a motto now:—"Love me: love my bear, not my missus.** My Jealous hero has told the story of an old 1 admirer, once my fellow-etu-dent, who brought me a dumpy piano for which I so starved, told me the news, talked shop, and would make me a prima donna —my life’s ambition The trap was well baited. Lonely, and terrified by the dread majesty of winter, I craved for the lightrf, for the crowds, for my home, for my people, for my art And there are little things besides which mean so much to a woman. .

Salvator turned out to be a cur, bis mission despicable, and yet no woman bom can ever be without some little tenderness for one whose love misleads him. And I who sought to read a lesson to poor Jesse, learned one for myself. I am no longer free, but fettered, and proud of the chains, Love’s chains, worth more to me than that lost world. i One morning, it must have been the twenty-sixth, I think, we had a caller, destined, I fear to entry in out visitor's book. Jesse had ridden off to see how his ponies thrive on the new grass, Mrs. O’Flynn was redding up after breakfast, and finding myself In the way, I took my water colors down to Apex Rock, to see if one sketch would hold winter, spring, summer, as viewed from the center of wonderland,.. t ■

Now our house being in full view from the apex, and sound traveling magically in this clear atmosphere, I heard voices. Mrs. O’Flynn had a visitor, and 1 was in such a jealous hurry to share the gossip, that my sketch went over the cliff as I rose to run. A rather handsome man, in the splendid cow-boy dress, stood by a chestnut gelding, such a horse aristocrat that I made sure he must sport a coat of arms. Moreover, in a gingerly and reluctant way, as though under orders, he was kissing Mrs. O’Flynn. She beamed, bless her silly old heart! Mrs. O’Flynn looks on her truthfulness as a quality too precious for every-day use, and so carefully has it been preserved that in her fifty-fourth year it fehows no sign of wear. Hence, »_on reaching the house I was not surprised to find that her visitor was a total stranger. Judge by signs—chivalry, reticence, courtesy—Mrs. O’Flynn’s guest was not a cow-boy. His florid manners, exaggerated politeness, and imitation of our middle-class English speech stamped his as a bounder, but not of the British breed. Later, in moments of excitement, he spoke New York, with a twang of music-hall. Even in so lonely a place it is curious to remember that such a person should appeal to me. Still in bis common way the man had beauty, carried his clothes well, moved with grace. So muc£* the artist in me saw a<4 liked, but I toi.uk no woman could have seen those tragic eyes without being lofluanced. “Ah! Mra Smith, I believe?” He Stood uncovered. “May I venture to ask if your husband is at home? I •think I had the pleasuah of knowing him years ago down in Texas.” "He'll be back by coon.” “Thank you, madam. Fact Is, we were very much surprised to see your chimney smoke. We thought this exquisite place was quite unoccupied. Indeed!” “Who’s 'we*?” “Oh, we’re the outfit riding for General Schmidt. We’ve come in search of the spring feed. We were Informed that Ponder’s place was unoccupied, open to all. Am I mistaken in supposing that this is Ponder's place?” -It is.”

A Man. in) the Open

Tag RogerPocock.

Illustrations bu Ellsworth Young

"Er—may I venture to ask if your husband holds squatter’s rights, or has the homestead and pre-emption?’* "You may ask my husband.’* "Thank you, madam. Our foreman instructed me to say that if the place proved to be occupied, I was to ask terms for pasturage. We’ve only two hundred head.” “Mr. Smith will consider the matter.’’

“We’re camped in a little cave at the south end of the bench, deuced comfortable.’’

Of course I know I’m a fool, and expect to be treated as such. But this man claimed to have camped at the South Cave without passing this house, which was impossible. “Camped at South Cave?” said I. "In that event I need not detain you. Mr. Smith no doubt will call on you after dinner. Good morning, sir." But this was not to hie mind, and I gathered vaguely that my husband was not reaMy wan ted at the Bay Y camp. I that this visitor would rather deal with me than see my husband. It required more than a hint to secure his departure. Jesse returned at noon. He received the story of our caller with the noises of one displeased. "That visitor, Kate,” he summed up, "would make a first-class Knew me, you say, In Texas?” Hearing from her kitchen Mrs. O’Flynn’s sharp grunt of dissent, I closed the door. “You’ve left the key-hole open v ” said Jesse, rising from the table, “come for a walk.”

“Now, Kate, dear,” Jesse sat down beside me on the Apex Rock, “this morn you got your first lesson in robbers. How would you like a visit to old Cap Taylor at Hundred Mile?” My voice may have quivered just a little. “Danger?” I asked. "I dunno as„ there’s actual danger, but if I jest knowed you was safe, I’d be free to act prompt.” “Tell n\e everything, Jesee.”

“Up at the north end of the bench, there’s maybe two hundred head of strange cattle. One pedigree shorthorn bull is worth all of twenty-five hundred dollars, and there’s a Hereford stud I’d take off my hat to anywheres. There’s Aberdeens or Angus —I get them poll breeds mixed—and a bunch of Jerseys grazing apart, purty as deer. Anyways, that herd's worth maybe two . hundred thousand dollars, every hoof of ’em stolen, and If you raked all them millionaire ranches in California I doubt you’d get that value.” "No stock owner needs that amount of stud cattle. We don’t raise such ip the north, so they’ve been drifted in here from the States. They’re gaunt with famine and driving, and it beats me to think how many more’s been left dead crossing the Black Pine country. The Bar Y brands has been faked. The parties herding ’em waits till I’m away, and tries to make a deal with you for pasturage. The gent with the sad eyes is sent dressed up to fool a woman. “Now, Kate,” his great strong arm closed round me like a vise. “The

Kate’s Face Was Dead White With Rage.

hull country knows you’re clear grit, so there’s no shame in leaving. For my sake, dear —” “Do you think I’d leave you in dan-

ger?” He sighed. “I knew it I cayn’t help it, and, Kate, it’s the truth, I’d rather see you dead than scared. There’s Madam Grizzly, and Senora Cougar, there’s Lady Elk, and even Mrs. Polecat, brave as lions. I’d hate to have my mate the only one to run like a scalded cat.” “The program, Jesse?”

"Do you remember, Kate, how we lost five dollars finding out that Dale and me Is signalers?” “And Captain Taylor gave us the signals to raise the district: one fire for feasts, two for help, three for war!" “That’s It, little woman. By dusk I'll be on top of the ellffs. afid make my fires back from the rim-rock, where them robbers won’t see the glare. \ ‘ .

</ L . THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER. IND.

CHAPTER VII. The Round-Up. Jetse's Narrative. While I made signal fires on the top of the cliff, Mr. Robber came to find out from my wife why for I hadn’t called to leave my card at the South Cave. He’s picturesque, says she, hair like a raven’s wing, eyes steel-blue, scarf Indigo striped with orange, shirt black silk, woolly shape out of a Wild West show, gold and silver fixings, Cheyenne saddle, carbine of some foreign breed, or maybe a Krag, manners fit,, for a king, age thirty-four, height six feet two inches, chest only thirty-eight, and such a sad smile —all of this will be useful to the police. » He tried all he knew to get out of being photographed, which I wisht I’d been there, for it must have been plumb comic, but we all submits when Kate gets after us. That reminds me that if he can’t capture the camera and plate, we’re apt to be burnt out by accident. She led him on and made him talk. If his boss knew how much Kate has down in her note-book, this guy with the sad eyes would get kicked all round the pasture. When I axed if the robber made love to her, my wife just laughed, and turned away, telling me not to be a fool; but the blush came around her neck.

I dunno. Perhaps it’s my liver, so I’m takiqg the only medicine I have, which it tastes like liniment. Is it liver, or am I getting to dislike this person ? 11. So happens, while I was writing, Billy O’Flynn comes along with the pack outfit on his way to Sky-line. He wanted to know why I made them fires, so I explained I was making a clearing up thar for Kate's spring chrysanthemums. (She spelt that word, which had me bogged down to the -hocks.) It may be liver, or my squeam inflamed, but my mind ain’t easy, and the Sky-line folk may think I’m only joshing with them fires. I can’t leave Kate to ride for help, I can’t shift her, I can’t send Billy to the constable without breaking my contract with the Sky-line, and I don’t divulge nothin’ to William O’Flynn, Esquire, who talks to the moon rather than waste conversation.

If I make a letter for Dale, and slip it into the pouch, Billy won’t know, or gossip if he happens to meet in with stray robbers. I’ll get him up and off by midnight to the Sky-line, in time for the supper pies, and the boys will be surging down to the ferry before midnight. Now I must make up some lies to hasten Billy’s timid footsteps along the path of duty. 111. Billy hastened away at midnight to tell Dale that pigeon’s milk is selling at eighty-foiir and three-fourths. He believes that if he can get that secret intelligence to Iron in good time, he’s to share the profits. Fact is, that Iron’s late wife made him the laugh-ing-stock of the plains over some joke she put up on him connected with pigeon’s milk, so that Billy’s share of the profits will be delivered on the toe of Dale’s boot. He’s breaking records to make the Sky-line quick. Nothing happened this morning, except Bull Durham, calling himself Brooke. He, the gent with the sad eyes, who came to make love to my wife. He paid me one hundred dollars for pasturage. Then I axed him to stay to dinner, and Kate says she never seen me so talkative. Bull found out* which weeks the Cariboo stage carries specie, and how many thousand dollars a month in amalgam comes down from the Sky-line camp. He even dragged out of me that old Surly Brown, the miser, has fifteen thousand dollars buried under the dirt floor of his cabin—which reminds me that if Brown’s home becomes the scene of a mining stampede, I’ll have to keep shy of his rifle. Yes, Bull showed a great gift of faith, and got both hie photo and the negative to show there was no ill feeling. I’m pastoral, harmless, simple, raised for a pet.

Leaving Kate hid in a ruined shack, half-way to the ferry, I was down by eleven p. m. to the bank of the river, hailing old man Brown. So soon as he’d brung me acrost, I sent him to ride for all he was worth and collect our constable, which cost me eighteen dollars and a horse. The money is severe, but I’ll get even on horse trades.

From midnight to one a. m. I put in the time cussing Dale; from then till two a. m. I felt that nbbody loved me; from-two a. m. to half past, I was scheming to take the robbers single-handed. At two thirty-five Dale rolled up tfith nine men from Sky-line, mounted on Billy’s ponies, besides O’Flynn, and Ransome Pollock, who may be good for a burnt offering but isn’t much use alive. a

Of course, having raided the country, I'd got to make good, producing a business proposition and robbers to follow. Iron has no sense of humor anyhow, and can’t see jokes unless the prices is wrote plain on their tickets. He’s come to this earth after dollars.

If a batch of robbers Is liable to cost him fifty dollars a day, and only fetches fifty-one dollars a day on the contract, his mine is better money, so he rolls his tail and takes away his men. That’s Iron Dale seven days in the week.

He’s right smart, too, at holding ti business meeting, so when I’d ate cranberry pie, which is a sort of compliment from the mine, and the boys has some of Brown’s tea as a donation from me, the* convention sits down solemn to talk robbers.

Moved and seconded that hold-ups ain’t encouraged in her majesty’s dominions, and we hands these robbers to the constable as his lawful meat, but we got to get 'ieta first. Resolved that there’s money in it. The owners of them cattle had ought to be grateful and show their gratitude, ’cause otherwise the stock is apt to scatter. Proposed that we hit the trail right away, with Iron Dale for leader. Carried, with symptoms of toothache disabling one of his men Dale told off O’Flynn and Branscombe to stampede the cattle just at glint of dawn, sending ’em past the cave, and ehooting and yelling as if there was no hereafter. That should interest the robbers, and bring them out of the cave which overlooks our pasture. Lpoklng down at a sharp angle, they weyn’t likely to hit our riders, whereas our posse, posted in good cover with a steady aim could attend to the robbers with promptness and despatch. Crossing the ferry our main outfit left Billy and Branscombe to start drifting the cattle southward, while we rpdeton tb take up our positions around the cave. In the ruined shack, half-way to our home, Kate was to have a candle, screened so that it could only be seen from our trail. We passed my fence, we crossed the halfmile creek, we gathered speed along the open pasture, and then Kate’s yell went through me like a knife. The robbers must have had a man on night herd, and found her by that light! Dale’s hand grabbed my rein, and with a growl he halted our whole outfit "Steady,” says he, “you fool!” Then in a whisper, as his men came crowding in:, "Dismount! Ransome, hold horses! Sam, take three men afoot round the rear of that cabin. I take the rest to close in the front. Siwash, and Nltchie Scott find enemy’s horses and drift them away out of reach. No man to whisper, no man to make a sound, until I lift my hand at that cabin window. After that, kill any man who tries to escape. Get a move on!”

So, with me at his tail, he crept along from cover to cover, waving hand signals to throw his squad into place. The enemy’s five horses at the door were led off by Billy’s Slwash arriero, and Nitchie Scott, so gently that the robbers thought they were grazing. By that time Dale and me was at the window gap on the north side of the shack, but the candle was in our way, we couldn’t see through its glow, and it wasn’t till we got round to the door hole that we’d a view of what was going on inside. My wife stood in the nor’west, right, far corner. A man with a gray chin whisker and a mournful smile, with his gun muzzle in her right ear, was shoving her head against the wall. Bull was talking as usual, explaining how his tact was better*n Whiskers’ gun at persuading females. Ginger was trying to assuage Bull. The greaser was keeping a kind of lookout, although he couldn’t see from the lighted room into the dark where he was. Ginger clapped his paws over Bull’s mouth before the proceedings went on.

“Now,” says Whiskers sadly, “are you goin' to scream any more?”

Kate’s face was dead white with rage. "You cur,” said she, “I screamed because my—you’re hurting me, you brute! Leave off if you want to hear one word from me. Leave off! That’s better. No, I won’t scream again.” The gun sight was tearing her ear as she screwed her head around, looking him full in the eyes. “If you do me any harm,” she said, “my husband’s friends won’t let you off with death. They’ll burn you. Stand back, you coward!” •

He flinched back just a little, and I saw his hand drawing slowly clear of her head.

“Get your horpes,” she cried out

MIGHT NOT SAMPLE BY TASTE

Darky Willing Enough to Listen to Praises of His Cider, But Was Not Giving it Away.

Few of the negroes in the southern states are inclined to be thrifty and saving, though many of them are disposed to industry and live in considerable comfort Some, however, have acquired the saving habit and are not only not wasteful, but are in the load idiom extremely “nigh.” A case in point is an old man. once the elave of the Randolphs of yirginla, who has become the owner of one of their plantations, and is quite rich. He converts into cash everything that is not necessary for the malntehance of the household and gets profit from many things that few negroes ever think of selling. Incidentally he makes cider of all the unsalable apples on his place and sells it, and though he ie very fond of the beverage himself, he never drinks with any of his neighbors, unless they pay for the elder. A young man of the neighborhood, who had been away for several years.

sharp, “you’ve barely tftne to escapef* Then I fired, the bullet .throwing that hand back, so that it contracted on the gun. His revolver shot went tfirough the rear wall. The hand was spoiled. “Now, hands up, all of you!” Dale yelled. “Hands up! Drop your guns!** One of the robbers was raising Us gun to fire, ewi'-.I had to kill him. The rest surrendered. “Kate,” said I, sort of quiet, and she came to me.

CHAPTER VIII. The Stampede. Jesstfg Narrative. Which these robbers we got in the cave is a disappointment This old man what leads them with a plume on his face, ought to have more deportment, for screwing a gun In Kate’s ear ain’t no sort of manners. Even after I’d shot his hand to chips, he grabbed Ransome’s gun with his left and tried to make me lie down. There’s some folks jest don’t know when you give them a hint. And Bull,- with, the sad eyes, claims on me his ancient friendship. While we lashed his thumbs behind him, he told us he’d been educated at Oxford and Cambridge. “What!” Kate flashed out, “after leaving Eton and Harrow ?” “Yes, and I’ve enough education to guess this ain’t no way to treat American citizens. You’ll hear of this,” he shouted, “from Uncle Sam!” “Thar,” says Dale, “I knew there’ll be rewards for you. dead or alive. How much? Two thousand dollars a heaij?” Then old Whiskers ordered *ftull to shut his head. He’s a curious, slow, mournful voice, like a cat with ths toothache. “I demand —” “Shut up.” So Bull shut up while we lashed him, likewise young Ginger and the greaser. Seeing the fellow I’d killed might want an inquest, we laid him straight in the ruined shack, and then marched our prisoners off to South Cave, where they’ll wait until we get our constable to arrest them. II- ' Now on the second day after we captures these ladrones, along toward supper, the depositions of the various parties is as viz.: Up to the ruined shack two mile north of my home, lies the remain) of one robber expecting an inquest Two miles south, right where the upper cliff cuts off the end of our pasture, there’s our cave full of captured bandits, to wit: Whiskers, Bull Durham, Ginger, and the dago. Down on the bench in front of the cave is our guard-camp with Iron Dale in command, and Kate with the boys having supper. Right home at the ranch house is me finishing my chores, and the widow spoiling hash for. my supper, because she hates me worse nor snakes for being a Protestant Away off beyond the horizon is old man Brown cussing blue streaks ’cause he can’t find much constable.

Such being the combinations at sup-per-time, along -comes the widow’s orphan, young Billy O’Flynn, who handles my pack contract with the Sky-line. He’s supposed to be on duty ’at the guard-camp, and his riding back to the home ranch completely disarranges the landscape. I’m busy, hungry, and expected to take charge of the night guard at the cave, but somehow this Billy attracts my attention by acting a whole lot suspicious. Instead of bringing me some message from Dale, he* rides straight to the lean-to kitchen, steps off his pony, and whispers for his mother. I sneaks through the house to the- kitchen in time to see this widow with a slip of paper, brown paper what we used to wrap up the prisoners* lunch. At sight of me she gets modest, shoving it into the stove, but I becomes prominent and grabs it. ■ “Shure,” explains, "an’ it’s only a schlip av paper!” (TO CONTINUED.)

Busy Days.

“Why have you been evading me?" inquired the city official angrily of a man whom he met in the street “Evading you!” replied the other man, warmly. “Why, confound it, I’ve been calling at your office every day this week.” “That’s just it. What were you looking for me in my office for?”

coming back home, remembered the famous cider and dropped in to see Uncle Wash. After .some general talk he casually observed, “I suppose, Uncle Wash, you still make that good cider, you used to make in old times?” “Oh, yes,” replied Wash, “I stil> makes my apples mos’ly into cider.” Then he called to Aunt Dinah, his wife, “Dinah, fetch out a go’d of dat bes’ cider.” » *

The visitor naturally expected that he was to sample the drink. But not so. The old than tduk the gourd and drained every drop. Then he handed the empty vessel to the visitor.

“Es you don’ blieve dat am good cider,” he said, smacking hie lips, “sou jes smell dat go’d.”—New York Evening Post.

Carefully Prepared.

“Tour long speech did not make very interesting reading,” said the cruelly candid friend. “It wasn’t meant to,” replied the senator. “I try to make my speeches long enough to appear Important, but not sufficiently interesting to invite critk cism.”

STORIES CAMP AND WAR

HOT BATTLE AT GETTYSBURG

Veteran of Old Sixth Corps Relates Terrible Experience on Dreary Hike From Manchester, Pa.

Tired knd dusty, I dragged my weary self into Manchester, Pa., just 35 miles from Gettysburg, on the morning of July 1, 1863. I was a member of the old Sixth corps and we all were expecting orders that would permit us to get our much needed rest writes H. P. Van Velson in the Chicago RecordHerald. But late in the evening orders to "fall in” sounded and we were compelled to hike the. pike for Gettysburg. The weather was hot, the sun of July 2 merciless and the road heavy with dust. Many sparkling streams of cool spring water flowed across the pike which cooled our feet as we hurried along, but the man who fell out to fill his canteen found an officer standing over him with drawn sword, as the emergency was great. I have walked 35 miles on a single hike since the war with ease as compared with that march, and in about one-half of the time., Looking up the pike toward, Gettysburg as the Sixth corps advanced could be seen frequently small puffs of smoke, expanding in volume. Then came the boom, muffled by the distance, of the artillery and the bursting shells. The First division of the Sixth corps arrived on the field about 2 p. m. of July 2 and the First brigade was assigned to a position to the right of and not far from the famous Littje Round Top mountain. There was furious fighting on July 1 and 2, but at thb hour of our there was a lull. The First brigade was advantageously posted behind a line of stone fences, with an open field in front, and beyond the field a body of timber. I wanted to see the Confederates that day. I was not always as anxious to see them ciftne, but we felt on the second and third that we had them where they more than once had had us. Pickett’s great charge and repulse on the third occurred a short distance to our right, and, while much of the havoc was both visible t and audible from some parts of our position, but one man of my regiment was Injured.

HOW BOY FOLLOWED AN ARMY

Marching of Colorado Soldiers Across Plains Is Recalled by Veteran Living In Evanston.

Following a regiment in marching order has appealed to boyp as being the next best thing to being of the Marchers themselves. A long march from the mountains into the prairie land is recalled by W. B. Norton, 727 Foster street, Evanston, 111.

“I was a small boy in Central City, C 610., when the war broke out,” he said. “It went on for some time and my father, who had come out there as a miner, felt that he ought to join the army. He rode on his pony 40 miles to Denver to find out whether there was any sign of an end to the war, and he came back determined to help his country. A company was organized and he was elected captain. It became Company D of the Thifd Colorado regiment. The women of the town made a flag, though at first they made it upside down, and the regiment started east across the plains. | “All our family went along. My brother, fifteen years old, was a drummer boy, and-my piother,..my sister and I traveled in a wagon. We wqnt across the plains to Fort Leavenworth and from there to Pilot Knob. At one place our wagon was at some distance from the camp one night, as sometimes happened, and my brother wanted to come to see his mother. He slipped out without getting permission and did not get to the wagon until dark. He was afraid to go back through the nightafor fear of wolves, and so he did not try it until,dawn. He was seen by ah officer, who arrested him and put him in the guard tent, and there we found him when we caught up with the regiment He stayed there for three days. “Although we were traveling-through a country where there was more or less guerrilla fighting, we were not troubled until near the end of the journey. I have a distinct recollection that three bushwhackers were taken, stood up by the side of their graves and shot.”

Gettysburg Hero Killed.

Ferdinand Koeber, aged ninety, an inmate of the Soldiers’ Home at Mirlon, Ind., who was spending a furlough in Lancaster, Pa., fell down a flight of stairs at hii boarding house an 4 killed. Koeber was the man who caught Gen. John F. Reynolds, who was shot at the battle of Gettysburg, as he fell from his horse, dead.

History Repeats.

•You are the manager here, eh? Well, t years ago I dined here, and being unable to pay my bill you kicked me out.” “Very sorry, sir; but business, you know —er —” “Oh, that's all right, old chap—but—might I trouble you again?”

At Last.

She—But it’s awfully cold in the ' house. The fire is out He (absently)—Good! We’ll be all alone. —Cornell Widow.