Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 91, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 April 1914 — Page 2

SYNOPSIS. The story opens with Jesse Smith relatlng 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 chances 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 receives her with open arms. Cattle thieves appear in the neighborhood. Jesse asks Kate to go to a place of safety. To his Joy she refuses. Jesse resumes the narrative. He calls on neighbors and plans to capture the robbers. Kate is rescued from the hands of the bandits. The robbers are captured, but later make their escape Jesse Is captured by the robbers, but by .a clever ruse makes prisoners of the robbers. CHAPTER X. Kate’s Narrative. At Hundred Mile House the long table had been removed from the dining hall, the benches set back to the tog walls, and at the head of the room an enormous Union Jack draped a very small portrait of Queen Victoria. Beneath was the chair, in front of it a table set with writing materials and the Bible, while at one end the schoolma’am looked very self-conscious as clerk, in official black, with large red bows like signals of distress. On the right sat Iron Dale, Jesse, and myself, and all our posse, very ill at ease. On the left were two gaunt American stockmen, both wearing hats, while one had the star of a United States marshal. Beside them sat the general public, consisting of Tearful George, two ranch-hands, an Indian, and the captain’s bulldog. Wee James, the captain’s grandson, sat with the dog at first, but presently he interrupted the court to say that he would like to sit on me- He sat with considerable weight for so small a person. At Captain Taylor’s entrance the constable ordered us all to stand. At sight of the two strangers he mounted a single eye-glass, and stared with growing wrath until they removed their hats. Then, taking the chair, he permitted us to be seated and or- < tiered his constable to "Bring the prisoners aft.” Had our captives been washed and brushed, they might not have looked so wretched or so guilty. Old O’Flynn, described by Jesse as Whiskers, with his head in a blood-stained bandage, his right hand in a gory handkerchief, looked so ill that he was given a seat. The Mexican, whose beautiful leather dress, and soft dark eyes reminded me sharply of the opera-house, seemed like a trapped wolf, only thinking of escape to the nearest woods. Bull Durham's swaggering gallantry was marred by obvious traces of a black eye. I “Prisoners,” said our justice of the peace, laying his hand on the Bible, “this book contains the only law I know. I’m not here as judge or lawyer, but as one of Her Majesty’s officers trusted to do the sporting thing, and to deal fairly and squarely with three Innocent men who have the misfortune to be charged with crime. You’ve only to prove to me that you’re innocent, and I have power to let you go free. But I warn you to tell the truth.” “Seems a square deal. Cap,” eaid Whiskers. “It is a square deal. Now, would you like to have some one of your countrymen as prisoners’ friend?” Whiskers looked reproachfully at the United States marshal who demanded his extradition, and the representative of stock associations who offered fabulous rewards for his body, “dead or alive.” “Wall,” he drawled, "not exactly.” “You other prisoners. Do you accept this man as your spokesman?” “81, senor.” “That’s all right,” said Bull. “Prisoner O’Flynn, you are charged with assaulting a woman, you others with aiding and abetting. Guilty or not guilty ?’ “It’s a fact,” said Whiskers sadly, “and all three of us wishes to say what’s got to be said”—he drew himself up to his full height—“by gentlemen! We tried to force a lady to give her husband away. She shamed us, and we honors Mrs. Smith for what she done. She told us to go to biases. Yes, sir! We just owns op that we’re guilty as hell, as the best way of showing our respect” “Gentlemen,” Captain Taylor epoke very gently. ’1 understand that yeu. OTlynn, received two wounds in pun-1 tohment, apd that two of your comredes were killed by the men who avenged this affront Is that true?” “It’s a fact” “The verdict of the court is, ‘not miltv' - “But prisoner, your confession proves the right of the settlers to organise for defense of the settlemav unT the constable could be

A Man in the Open

r Illnstratlana btj Ellsworth Young

brought to their help. All you settlers who have taken part in the capture of these prisoners are engaged by the province as special constables from the day you undertook service, until I give you your discharge. You will be paid on such a scale as I direct. “Rudolph Schweinfurth.” The marshal came forward and was sworn. “You are a United States marshal?” "Yes, your honor.” “You submit proof?” .... The marshal’s credentials were read. “You claim these prisoners for extradition ?” , “Yes, sir.* “Sit down. Cyrus Y. Jones.” The other stockman was sworn. “You are representative of certain stock associations and submit proofY Right. You claim certain cattle alleged to be stolen, and found in possession of the prisoners? Right You submit photographs Identifying certain of these cattle and evidence of theft And you offer twenty-five thousand dollars’ reward for recovery of the stock. Pay that money into court and take my receipt. . "Prisoners, you are charged in your own country with robbery-under-arms and homicide in various degrees. Do you or do you not wish to prove your Innocence?” The prisoners scratched their heads. “Marshal,” said the magistrate, "I don’t know what my powers are in this matter, but it’s evident that the less red tape there is the sooner these men will get the justice they rightly demand. I don’t want them. Give me a receipt and engage what men you need for escort duty. You, Mr., Representative, give me your receipt for the cattle. Now clear out, and get to the States before you’re interfered with by any lop-eared officials. Constable, hand over your prisoners. “Mr. Dale and Mr. Smith, will you trust me asi magistrate to make a fair division of this reward? All right. One-quarter goes to Dale, one-quarter to Smith, and the other half to be equally divided among you. Is that fair? All right, here’s the plunder. Let’s get the table in and dinner served. I’m famished.” So the court rose, and the dear old captain, having, I believe, broken every statute in British Columbia jurisprudence, asked all hands and ; the prisoners to dinner. “Of course,” he said afterward to Jesse, “I ought to have committed you and Dale to trial for homicide, fined you all round for using guns without a license, turned the lawyers loose on a fat extradition case, and Impounded the cattle, to eat my grass at government expense. As it is, I’ll be hanged, drawn, and 'quartered by the politicians, damned by the press, and jailed for thrashing editors. And I missed all the fun.” After dinner the crowd broke up into little groups. In one corner the American officials were bargaining with Mr. Dale for his Sky-line men to ride with the prisoners and the cattle. By the door stood Mr. Brooke, explaining something at great length to our bored constable. At the head of the long table Captain Taylor was

“Whist! Hide the Gun,” He Said.

telling me how difficult it was to find a suitable nursery governess for Wee James. At the foot of the table I saw the Mexican whispering to his unfortunate chief—plans for escape, no doubt Then Jesse joined them, with a present of pipes, matches, and tobacco to ease the journey. “Mr. Smith,” said poor old O’Flynn, “this yere Sebastian Diaz has been with me these twelve year. He’s only a greaser—” _ “Medio Sangre, senor!” said the half-breed proudly. "But he’s got the heart of a white man. He’s like a eon to me.” “I'm proud,” said Jesse, "to make your acquaintance, both of you. You are men, ail right." "We fought the rich men that had wronged us, them and their breed. We put up a good fight Yes, sir! And we wouldn’t have missed a mile of that twelve years’ trail. It wasn’t our way to insult women, Mr. Smith.” "You had to git that information somehow," said Jesse, “and Mrs. Smith forgives you."

by Roger Pocock

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER. IND.

"That’s off our minds, Mr. Smith.” “Mostly known as Jesse,” said my husband. “Jesse. We bin consulting, and we agree you’re the only man here we'd care to ask favors of.” “I’m your friend, all right.” “Jesse, if we don’t escape, we are duetto pass in our chips.” "I’m not going to help you escape.” "Wall, you haven’t helped our escape to any great extent, so far as I know.” , w Jesse chuckled. “But I’m asking jou to look after my wife and my son.” “I’ll do that” “You’ll save the boy from his far tber’s trade?” “I reckon." “Put her thar.” And they shook hands. "Them horses we was riding,” said the outlaw, "is for my son.” “That’s all right." “And one thing more. That Brook© has an eye on your good lady. He’s your enemy from times far back in Abilene. He’ll live to do you dirt Thar, I sort of hates to .talk so of one of my men, and I won’t say no more. “Say, my hands being hurt, will you just reach Into my off hind pocket? That’s right. There’s a gold watch. Take it, my time’s up. Give that to your lady from us as a sort of keepsake. Goodby, partner.” “Goodby, friend.” “Adios,” said the Mexican. “Yaya usted con Dios!” And the English of that is, “May you ride with God!"

CHAPTER XI. Billy O’Flynn. Kate's Narrative. Jesse is cruel to young O’Flynn. Perhaps he is justly, rightly cruel, tn gibing at this young cowboy, taunting him until the lad is on the very edge of murder. "Got to be done,” says Jesse, “I promised his father that I’d break the cold until he’s fed up with robbers. So just you watch me lift the dust from his hide, and don’t you git gesticulating on my trail with your fool sympathies.” Billy does not suspect that the tormentor loves his victim. My heart aches with his humiliation. His mother is my cook, not a princess, as the boy’s pride would have her. Hie father was one of the most dangerous leaders of the Rocky Mountain outlaws, bo there the lad saw glory, and I don’t blame him. But all the glamor was stripped away when Jesse tricked O’Flynn and his gang into surrender, handed them over to justice, and showed poor Billy his sordid heroes for what they really were. His father has been hanged. That night the lad had come from Hundred Mlle House, with Jesse’s pack-train bearing a load of stores. There was a dress length, music for my dear dumpy piano, spiced rolls of bacon, much needed fiour and groceries, and an orange kerchief for Billy. From his saddle wallets he produced my crumpled letters and the weekly paper a Vancouver rag, Therein Jesse labors among tangles of provincial politics, I .gloat over the cooking recipes of America's nice cuisine, and spare maybe just a sigh over the London letter. Billy’s portion consists of blood-curdling disasters and crimes, and the widow waits ravenous for her kindling, bed stuffing, wall paper, and new pads for her wooden leg. At ten cents that paper is a bargain.

After breakfast when Jesse had gone to work, the widow came to me in deep distress, leaning against the door-post, twisting up her with tremulous fingers, her eyes dark with dread. When I led her to a seat, perhaps she felt my sympathy, for a flood of tears broke loose, and wild Irish mixed with her sobs. The leprechawn possessed her bhoy avick, night-riders haunted him, dlvils was in him acushla, and the child was fey. His step-uncle went fey to his end in the dreadful quicksands, her brother-in-law went mad in the black Indian hills, running on the spears of the haythen, rest his sowl, and now Billy! He was gone this hour. Fiercely she ordered me out to search, for she would take the southern pasture, so surely 1 would find him in the pines. She feared that place; muttered of fires lighted by no mortal hands. Yestreen a falling star had warned her that she was to lose her bhoy, and had I not. seen that face in the windy last night? Soothing the poor thing as best I could, I undertook the search, glad of an excuse to get away, outdoors. Presently I came upon Billy perched on a root overhanging the depths of the canyon. He was cleaning Jesse’s rifle, and I surprised him in a fit of angry laughter. “Billy,” I shouted, “come in off that root before you fall!” Ho obeyed with sulky patience at my whims. “Why are you, not at work ? What are you doing with my hueband s rifle?", “I’m at work,” be answered sulk-

ily—then with an odd vagueness of manner, “I’m cleaning the durned thing.” Being a woman, and cursed at that with the artistic temperament, I could not help being moved by this lad’s extraordinary beauty—the curlyl redgold hsiir, skin with the dusty F look of a ripe peach, the poise of easy power and lithe grace, the sense he gave me of glowing color veiling rugged strength. As an artist studies a good model, I had observed very closely the moods of Billy’s temperament.——— ’ His mother was right That vagueness of manner was abnormal, and the lad was fey. “But why are you cleaning his rifle?" “It kicks when it’s foul," he said absently. “You’re off hunting?” “Goin’ to shoot Jesse, thet’s all.” "I’m sure,” I said, “he cleaned it yesterday. Look here,” and I took the rifle to show him it was clean. “See,” I put my little finger nail in the breech while he looked down the

“I’m a Rich Woman, Dear.”

barrel. “Come,” said I, and told him that in my sewing-machine there was a bottle of gun oil. The rifle was in my possession, safe. Then he heard Jesse coming." Whist! Hide the gun!” he said, and as though we were fellow conspirators, I placed it behind a tree, so that my man saw nothing to cause alarm. Jesse came, it seemed in’search of Billy. “Hello, Katp,” he said in greeting. “Say, youngster, when you sawed off that table leg to make your mother's limb, what did you do with the caster?” CHAPTER XII. Expounding the Scriptures. =— I wonder how many persons live in Jesse’s body? On the surface he is the rugged whimsical stockfnan, lazy, with such powers in reserve as would equip a first-class volcano. Sing to .him and another Jesse emerges, an inarticulate poet, a craftless artist, an illiterate writer, passionate lover of all things beautiful in art and nature. And beneath all that is Jesse of the Sabbath, in bleak righteousness and harsh respectability, scion of many Smiths, the God-fearing head of his house, who reads and expounds the Scriptures on Sunday evenings to sullen Billy, the morose widow, and my unworthy self. When we knelt, the widow still sat rigid, and with her I wooden leg scratched out upon the oil-cloth vague

THOUGHT NIGHT HAD PASSED

Tired Farm Hand Lost All Track of Time in His Brief but Evidently Deep Slumber. Even when you are wide awake it is frequently hard to estimate the passage of time. On one occasion you find it hard to believe that several hours have elapsed,, and on another the day may drag so slowly that the clock seems to have shirked its duty. While you are asleep the calculation of time is. of course, almost impossible, as this Incident, told by a farmer’s son at the corner store one rainy morning, aptly illustrates: Father hired a new hand last night —a big, good-natured Dutchman. Evidently the poor fellow was tired from tramping about the country, for he went to bed immediately after supper. As usual, father went Itown to the cellar about 9:30 to throw some coal in the furnace and adjust the drafts for the night. Evidently this made enough noise to rouse the new hired

outlines of a callows. Afterward she explained. “Yer husband, MrZ Smith, bad cAs to him. is mighty proud av his spectacles, pbwat he can’t see through and all, and showing off his learning and pride av a Sunday." 1 “But why draw gallows on the floor?" “And why for should I not draw gallows on the flure, seeing he’ll never drown ? It’s hung he’ll be for a opprissing the fatherless and the widow, and burn he will afther for a Protestant. Yis,” she flashed round on her son, “feed buttermilk to thim calves, and hould up yer head alladh, ’cause you Inherit glory while he’s frying!" Away from the widow’s hate and her son’s vengeance, I led my man Out under the stars. I gave him his cigar, that black explosive charged with deadly fumes, lighted him a sulphur match. It soothes his passions, and the pasture scent makes him gentle, but when I fear my grizzly bear, and hardly dare to stroke, I lead him by the keen silver spring, across the hollow where our flowers would make a devil smile, and on through the wild rose tangle, to my cathedral pines. Tonight he eeemed suspicious, even there, biting off tags of the vindictive Psalms. Nor would he sit under the fattier tree until I sang to him. “What do you want?” asked Jesse then, all the rancor gone. “Jesse, do you know that it’s nearly a year since we married?” “Ten months, Kate, and fourteen days. Do you think I don’t reckon ?” I sat down on the root of the little governess tree, the humblest ha the grove. "In the Bible, deavitfho was the son of Jesse?" “David, of course.” "Do you remember, dear: 'for I have provided a king among bis sons’?” He looked away across the thundrous misty depths of the canon, and the moonlight caught his profile as though it were etched in silver. "A mighty valiant man,” he whispered, “prudent in matters, and a man of war.” ■j' “Jesse, I’ve got such a confession to make. When you settled Mr. Trevor’s estate—” “His estates were debts, and we paid ’em. There ain’t no need to fuss.” “You paid the debts. You were hard driven to meet the interest on your mortgage.” “That’s paid off now. Besides we’ve a clear title to our land, mother’s gravestone’s off my chest, we don’t owe a cent in the world, and there’s nary a worry left, except I’m sort of sorry for them poor robbers. Why fuss?” | • “You earned six thousand dollars, at goodness knows what peril. I let you still Imagine that you were poor.” “We got plenty .wealth, Kate, wealth enough for—for David.” “I wanted you, Jesse, just you, I wanted poverty because you were poor. I have been content, and now you’ve won the capital to free the ranch, to buy a thoroughbred stallion, to stock the place.” “That’s so.” “Jesse, under my dear father’s will, I have seven thousand five hundred dollars a “A what!” “I’m a rich woman, dear. I’ve been saving my income, and there's ten thousand dollars for you at the bank.” So I gave him my check, which he receipted promptly with a kiss. He Is so rough, too. Then we discussed improvements. A bunch of East Oregon horses, three cow-boys to handle our stock, a man to run the Sky-line contract, an irrigated corn field, and winter feed, two Chinese servants, so many ’must haves’ that we waxed quite despondent over ways and means. Jesse must go to Vancouver on business, and thus after much preamble I came at last to the point “Take Billy with you.” “But if I go, he’s got to look after the ranch.” “You preach at Billy,” I said, “you pray at him. Rqmember he’s wild as these woods, son of a dangerous felon. His mother goads him on, and there’s danger, Jesse.” I knew while I spoke the folly of appealing to his sepse of fear. Hs chuckled softly. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

man. for mother, who was sitting beside the table in the dining-room, saw the stair door suddenly open and disclose the broad form of the Dutchman. Blinking drowsily before the light, he exclaimed: “Good morning. Missis! Good morning! 1 could chust as well has come down von hour- ago if you had only voke me up!"—Youth’s Companion.

Pocket Telephones In Use.

A serviceable pocket telephone is the latest innovation of the Hungarian posts and telegraphs administration. The appliance weighs only 120 grammes, is no bigger than a card case, and can be bad by any one on payment of thp price of 40 ordinary telephone conversations, which cost a penny each. The pocket telephone is adapted for insertion in a wall plug either in a private house, on streel walls, or in a lamp-post, etc. When the user has finished his conversation, he simply removes the telephone from the plug and puts U back la fata pocket.

The Perfected Captain

By REV. JAMES M. GRAY. D. D.

Daaa of Moody Bible Inatiiute Chicago

.TEXT—“For It became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things. In bringing many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings.” Hebrews. 2:10.

through Bufferings.” To bring sons to glory is God’s great* purpose in Jesus Christ. The words “sons” should be emphasized, for God 1 first must call men to be sons, andi after that bring them to glory even as the epistle to the Romans says: “If sons, then heirs.” By nature men are not God’s sons in this sense, but become so by the regeneration of the Holy Spirit through 'faith in Jesua Christ. Have you experienced thia mighty and vital change? For they* only have the hope of glory who thus* receive the spirit of adoption wherebyi they can cry, “Abba, Father.” When the text speaks of Jesus, Christ as the captain of our salvation, a comparison is drawn between him. and Joshua, who was the captain of the hosts of Israel in their entranoo into Canaan. He was to lead them into their inheritance under the Abrahamio covenant, but Jesus Christ leads usinto our inheritance under the gospel.. In the former case only they perished in the wilderness who either out of love unto the flesh pots of Egypt, or through terror at the hardships of tha way refused to go up under their lead-' Sr’s command. And so in the case of those who through faith have become sons of God, there is no doubt of ultimate victory in the following of Jesus Christ.

Christ’s Dedication. Our captain was dedicated to his work through sufferings,. for that is the meaning of “perfect” in the text. It was often .used among the heathen:, to signify the initiation of a man into the mysteries of their religion in order to become a leader of others in the same religion. Sometimes these rites were accompanied by much pain, and, the Inspired writer employs the figure to illustrate the sufferings of ourj Lord. These sufferings were of two kinds. His life sufferings and his death sufferings. In life he suffered: for righteousness’ sake, that is through sympathy with ihan, but great as this; was, it was very different from his death sufferings. These, were the hiding of his Father’s face and the awful darkness of Calvary when he bore our guilt upon the accursed tree. To some extent we may sympathize with, him in his life sufferings, but who can know anything of his death sufferings? As one says, “man can paint the cursed tree, but who can paint the curse of the Lord that made it so? Man mly describe the soldier’s spear, but not the cup of wrath he drained to the last drop.”

And how the mystery deepens as we read that it became God to do this. It was not only right and proper, but it behooved him to employ this method in bringing many sons into glory. He could, not do differently and accomplish it, because of the desert of sin and the qnchangeableness of his justice. He might have suffered all men to perish in their sins, but once having, in love, determined to redeem them, there was no other way in which it could be righteously carried out. Truth failed, and as Isaiah says: 1 "The Lord saw it, and is displeased him that there was no judgment. And he saw - that there was no man, and wondered that there was no intercessor; therefore his arm brought salvation unto him; and his righteousness, it sustained him.” Isaiah 99 :• 15, 16.

What Inference Follows. < If It became God to adopt this plan to save us, who are we to question its wisdom or necessity? Who are we to hesitate in bringing our convictions and conduct into harmony with his great purpose? And if the object God had was to bring sons to glory should we not earnestly inquire if we are sons? It is said of Jesus Christ In John’s gospel (1:12) that, “as many as received him to them gave he authority to become the sons of God.” Have we received him? Does he by his blessed Spirit dwell within and rule us? Let us not take this for granted; let us be assured of it by the testimony of the Word of God and the answer of our experience. -- ■■■'-. L -,i ii - .. A- . iKnow the true value of time, watch, seize and enjoy every moment of it. No idleness, no laziness, no procrastinations; nevdr pu( off till tomorrow ■&hat you can do today.—Lord Chester, field. •

In the preceding verse it is declared that Jesus Christ tasted death for every man, “for,” the epistle says, “it became him, for whom are all things, and by whom are all things.” In other words, it became God the Father, “in bringing many sons unto glory to make the captain of their salvation perfect