Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 135, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 June 1914 — Page 2

RIGHT AT THE SWITCH

By JUNE GABIAN.

Sue Daniels had been switchboard operator at the St Hubert for two years when Wfnthrop Tate registered as a transient guest. Sue always kept personal tab on all newcomers, and when she looked Winthrop over appraisingly the first time he stood at her desk and asked for a number. The general summing up was not so bad. He was a young, rather bald easterner, with eyeglasses, and a way of staring inquiringly at you before Speaking, but his eyes were brown and pleasant and his chin was well rounded, with a deep cleft in it. Also, his voice was deep and well modulated, and she approved of his taste in neckties. The fashion in neckties around Buffalo Wallow was not especially artistic, although it showed diversified tastes and much individuality. But 'Sue had pot always lived In the little straggling town that sort of dripped over the edge of the big mountain, and clung to its sides precariously. She had been sent down by the telegraph company when it threw a line through from Tuscaloosa, and had worked down at the station first, but when the boom hit the town, and the St. Hubert was built, civic pride placed the little blonde operator in a place of honor at the switch. It was understood Ideally that Mr. Tate was the eastern representative of the particular branch that connected Tuscaloosa and Buffalo Wallow with the outer world. Also, that the said company was listening favorably to Buffalo Wallow’s wall that its name be changed to something in keeping with its new financial importance. But Sue knew otherwise. She knew that Mr. Tate was in daily telephonic communication with Saunders of the Bucking Btonch mines, and it trotbled her. Two years in Buffalo Wallow had left her with a very jfair estimate of everybody's private and public character. Mr. Saunders’ would not bear close inspection. He had a record behind him that gave him the full credit of being the cleverest mine salter of any male in western Montana. The only trouble was that he got away with it. He salted so thoroughly and so ingeniously, .that only the native understanding could realize that the result was purely artificial.! Bucky Saunders’ victims always believed that he meant well, and was sore deceived even as were they, by Mother Nature’s caprices.

“Do you know anything about this Mr. Saunders, Miss Daniels?” asked Winthrop, casually, one day, after a long-distance chat with Bucky. “I’ve known him for two years,” Sue replied. "He’s a tartar. Nobody ever connects with him except eastern folks. Don’t get in too deep, Mr. Tate.” -“Oh, I’m not getting in at all, thanks,” smiled back Winthrop. “Only he interests me. Seems wide awake. What’s his specialty?" “He gets people who don’t know any better to put cold cash into mines that are only skin deep, and then ducks.” “But he owns the Bucking Broncho.” “He does now. It used to be his partner’s, too. Half of it ought to helongto At Baldwin. That’s his partner’s son.” Sue clicked a switch sharply. “Some people say that Mr. Saunders took special pains to push Mr. Baldwin over the edge of the canyon, but maybe not. He was dead, anyway, when they found him.” “Successful people always make enemies,” remarked Mr. Tate, pleasantly. “He seems rather a nice sort of fellow to me.” “Oh, he’s nice,” she laughed, “only don't let him sell you any mines unless you like the salt of the earth, that’s all. The Bucking Broncho used to be a good mine, I guess, but it’s all worked out. Bucky’s sold it about eight times so far, and got it back cheap each time. Don’t let him hurt you, Mr. Tate.” “I’m not here after mines,” said Tate. “My business is railroads.” “Well, Bucky deals with them, too,” Sue told him, cheerfully. “He’s very versatile. We’re trying to name the town Lewiston, because Lewis and Clark camped here once, I guess, and Bucky disapproves. He wants to . found a new town over on his side of the range, and get the railroad to take an interest in the Bucking Broncho.” “You’re right at the switch, aren't you, little girl?” smiled Tate. 8ue v flushed slightly, but stood her ground. “I like the town here,” she confessed, “and I hate to see a fellow like Bucky Saunders take its hide. He’d talk to the Angel Gabriel till he bought a brass horn for the golden trumpet Then again, Al Baldwin’s going to the dogs as fast as he can on account of It all.” “Any personal interest there r* asked Wlnthorp, mildly, leaning over the top of the desk. Sue’s honest blue eyes promptly hid behind long black lashes. She had liked Al once upon a time, she confessed, but there wasn’t any chance now, because he was drinking himself to death. It was the next day that Tate left word at the desk for Bucky Saunders to call him up at 4 sharp. Sue was to tell him that when he asked over the wires for Tate. And Sue noticed that Mr. Tate went leisurely down to the depot and met the noon express.

Also, that he brought back with him two other men, and they all went into special session in the quietest corner of the smoking-room. And a little past 1 o’clock A 1 Baldwin came in alone. He was clear-eyed, and quiet, Sue noticed, and her heart beat faster as she bent over the switchboard to avoid his most disturbing glances. “Sue, you old darling,” be began. “It’s so good to see “you. Look up at me, dear. I’m all right, honest I am. And I’ve got good news, too. We’ve got the goods on Bucky “Tell it,” said Sue, tersely. “He’s been laying for Tate, of the railroad, salting every foot of the old claims, shooting it in like gravel, Sue. I’ve been waiting for him for weeks, trying to get a line on him. I’ve been camping out up there, hiding around the hills, watching for him, and now, look here.”

He drew out a brown folder from his pocket, and opened it. Sue took the snapshots out wonderingly, and stared at them. They were very good ones, four by fives, and they showed excellent poses of Mr. Saunders industriously engaged in preparing to salt the Bucking Broncho. There was Mr. Saunders sitting comfortably outside his snug little shack loading fresh cartridges into his gun. Also, there was one of Mr. Saunders starting down the main shaft of the Bucking Broncho all by himself with his gun held handily in readiness. There was one of Mr. Saunders scouting along an outcropping vein on a ledge of rock, helping it along by sundry little scatterings of gold where it would do the most good. —“And look here, Sue,’ * whispered the boy eagerly, dipping into his pocket, “I’ve got two of his own special brand of cartridges. See here. He takes out the lead, and flllß in gold. Isn’t that great? And they can’t say I did It for a bluff, because they fit his gun. He’s got some new chap on the string from the East, and is going to sell the old Broncho again, and I want to buy it myself this time.” “You want to, Al?” Sue’s face was flushed and eager. “What do you want the old thing for?" “Because it’B good, understand? Dad always said it was, and he told me Bucky never struck the right place to sink a shaft. He knew himself, but he didn’t trust Bucky, see, dear? But he told me, and I’ve found it. I haven’t been hiding up there for nothing the last two months. I know where the real stuff is, and I want to get a grip on the whole thing. Let Bucky think he’s selling a salted mine if he likes. I’ve got the goods on him with these, and he can’t back down.” “Wait a minute,” said Sue. The table in the smoking-room was deserted. Mr. Tate’s party had adjourned to his own room upstairs in private session. It was just 4, and Bucky was due to ring up any minute. “You get in that booth, Al, and when Bucky calls, I’ll let you talk to him, and turn Mr. Tate’s wire open too. Tell everything you know, Al." Al smiled. He was a big, handsome youngster, and he owed Bucky both his father’s debt and his own. It was pay-day for both scores when he stepped into the booth, and heard Saunders' voice at the end of the wire. And Sue calmly called Mr. Tate's room and let him in on the conversation. By the time Bucky had finished giving his personal opinion of his late partner’s son, and had decided to leave town, Tate was ready to see Al Baldwin, and talk business. And while Al went up to the conference, Sue waited. She knew what

would happen. With those snapshots, and his own testimony, Al could hold the law over Saunders to the limit, and if Tate would back up the new discovery up at the mine, it would mean—Sue covered her face with both hands, and laughed softly, thinking all that it would mean. It was after 6 when they all came downstairs. The two men from the East stayed down at the cigar counter, but Tate and Al strolled over to her desk. Tate’s eyes had a twinkle in them.

“Pm going to take over an interest in the Bucking Broncho in. spite of what you told me, Miss Daniels,” he said. “I understand Mr. Saunders has Btepped out. and Mr. Baldwin has the controlling Interest. The right man seems bound to win.” Al bent over the girlish figure at the desk. “It all depends on who is at tho switch, Mr. Tate,” he said. “She won’t be here long now.” _ And for once Sue had nothing at all to say. (Copyright. 1914, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)

Puzzled Traveler.

“In little things and large," writes William Dean Howells, “I found the Spaniards everywhere what I heard a Piedmontese commercial traveler say of them in Venice 60 years ago: ‘They are the hones test people in Europe.’ In Italy I never began to see the cruelty to animals which English tourists report, and in Spain I saw none at all. If the reader asks how, with this gentleness, this civility and integrity, the Spaniards have contrived to build up their repute for. cruelty, treachery, mendacity and every atrocity, bow, with their love of bull fights and the suffering to man and brute which these involve, they should y«t seem so kind to both, I answer frankly, I do not know.”

Each Man His Own Biographer.

It is not possible fpr the book of any man’s life to be a blank. Its pages must be filled, and the writing must be dons by the. hand of tbs otroee

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

TRISTRAM SPEAKER RECEIVES BIG SALARY

Tristram Speaker is thirty years old, stands five feet eleven Inches in his shoes and weighs a shade over 180 pounds. He halls from Texas, where he began his professional baseball career eight years ago. In 1908 he joined the ranks of the American league with Boston, and has played on that team ever sintie, batting (with the exception of bis first year, when he played only 32 games) an average of over .300 each year, his poorest being .309 and his best .383 In 1912. V His average for the five years of regular play Is .345. He is left-handed

Among the Baseball Players

Joe Sugden, the old catcher, is chief scout for President pledges of the Browns. • • * Jean Dubuc has been with the Detroit Tigers only a short time, but he is now the veteran of the stkff. • • * Miller, Wilson, Butler and Dolan, all former Pirates, are delivering in great style for the St. Louis Cards. • • • A Cleveland (O.) sporting writer, Frank Rostock of the Press, picks Washington as a possible pennant winner this season. * • • Bobby Lowe, the veteran inflelder, who retired some years ago, is coach of the Washington and Jefferson university baseball team. • • * John Brodie Williams, the Detroit Tigers’ Hawaiian pitcher, never had a pair of shoes on his feet until he was sixteen years old. • • • Dave Gregg, the younger brother of Veran Gregg of the Naps, has been turned back by Manager Birmingham once more. He goes to Spokane. • • • President Thomas of the Cubs has announced that the Cubs and the Philadelphia Athletics will play an exhibition game at Toledo on June 23. *• * • Frank Gilhooley, for whom President Farrell of New York paid Montreal |12,000, will be given every chance to show why it was a crafty spectylation. • * # ■ Jack Dunn, manager of the Baltimore Orioles, has gathered up a fast bunch of players this year and believes his team will outclass the Baltimore Fed outfield. • • * Maurice Rath and Chink Mattlck are former big leaguers playing with Kansas City. Both ex-White Sox have greatly improved and may return to the big show. * * • Dick Egan had the distinction of playing before the king of England and the squire of Flat bush within two months. No other player in any league can lay claim to any such record. • , • * Scott, the Red Sox inflelder from 8L Paul, has had batting marks of .266, .267 and .269 for the past three seasons at Youngstown and St Paul, and has fielded for .949, .947 and -953. Pretty even work.

Trie Speaker of Boston Americans.

both in batting and throwing. He started in the Texas league with a salary of $65 a month and has just been re-engaged by the Boston Americans at what amounts to $18,500 a year on a two-year contract. Christy Mathewson gets $15,000; Ty Cobb, $12,500; Tinker, $12,000; Wagner and Evers, SIO,OOO each. The highest salary paid in the old days of baseball was to John Ward, who was accredited with receiving the then phenomenal salary of $4,000. Rusie, that star pitcher, at his best received only $3,200. Playefrs then considered this big money.

PLAYERS ARE SUPERSTITIOUS

Men In Ranks and Many Managers Have Their Little Peculiarities— Dislike Bcore Board. Frank Chance, manager of the New York Yankees, is considered the most superstitious leader in the major leagues. The worst thing he can conceive is to see the score board during a game. If he accidentally sees the score luck is sure to change. He has had scoreboards in two parks moved so that he could not see them from his bench. . , Clark Griffith, manager of the Washington Americans, is Bald to be the least superstitious of the managers, yet if he dreams that a pitcher is batr ted hard that pitcher is kept out of the game for a few days. He says he isn’t superstitious, but he can’t afford to take chances. Jimmie Sheckard, formerly with the Chicago Cubß, but this year manager of the Cleveland American association team, is a believer in signs and omens. He always goes to bat in -a certain way. The same holds true of his manner of walking to and from the club house before and after a game. Most every .ball player is superstitious about barrels and hay. A load of empty barrels is good luck, a load of barrels filled with anything Is unlucky, a load of loose hay is lucky, and a load of baled hay is unlucky. The worst luck in the world follows the sight of a cross-eyed person,

according to the ball playera. However, this “jinx” may be broken by spitting In your hat Immediately. In procuring bat boys to-cany the dubs from the Jiome plate back to the bench and to keep them neatly piled, in order, baseball managers aa a rule pick opt the wont looking youth to be found. He la retained aa long as things go well, but when the time arrives that the team hits a slump another homely ’boy is taken on.

Manager Frank Chance.

FINES PLASTERED ON BURKE

Tigers’ Coach Relates _Tale of Reversed Decision in Kansas City- . Milwaukee Game. Being plastered with a fine by an umpire never caused ‘.‘Jimmy’’ Burke, the Tigers’ coach, any worry. “In my years on the baseball field I dare say I have been fined sl,000,” declared “Jimmy” the other day. "I believe I have been fined more than any player ever in professional ranks. I was once handed a SIOO plaster by an umpire in Milwaukee*. “It was like this: . “I was managing the Kansas City team and we were performing before 7,000 or 8,000 persons one Fourth of July, Mike Cantillon was manager of the Brewers and along about the sixth inning, with the score mighty close, two Brewers were on the bases when a pitched ball grazed the batsman’s club and rolled to the stands. “The two runners came home and I rushed in protesting. I pointed out that the ball hit the batsman and the umpire moved the men back. Just then Cantillon ran on to the field and declared that it was a wild pitch and the ball had never hit the bat “The umpire hesitated and Cantillon shouted that the people would certainly kill him If the two runners were not allowed to score. The umpire changed his decision and told me that the ball had struck the catcher’s mitt —and not the bat. “I raved, tore my hair, kicked up tbe sod and carried on in other wayß, but to no avail. “Finally I led my team from the field and then —there was a riot. “The league officials upheld the umpire and fined me,, I had to pay. And that wae one fine I didn’t deserve."

SKETCH OF JAMES LAVENDER

Successful Spit-Ball Pitcher of Chicago Cubo, at One Time Was Slated for Montreal. James Lavender, the successful spitball pitcher of the Chicago Cubs, was born just twenty-seven years ago In Montezuma, Ga., the son of well-to-do parents. Jimmy was given a good education in the public school of that town. At the age of fifteen he went to the Gordon institute, a military academy at Bamsvllle, Ga. Here Jimmy was trained as a soldier, which aocounts today for his military bearing. At the academy Lavender played very little baseball, but was strong at football. After graduation, however, Lavender devoted himself wholly to baseball and became so proficient at pitching that he tried his luck with the Augusta club of the South Atlantic league, in 1906, where he was a teaxn-

James Lavender.

mote of Nap Rucker. In 1907 he played with the Danville club of the Virginia league. The Athletic club bought him and then sold him, without trial, to the Holyoke club of the Connecticut league. In 1908 the Boston National club drafted him and turned him over to the Providence club. He played with the latter club in 1909-T(k11, when he was drafted by the Chicago club. After the 1912 training trip the Chicago club tried to ship Lavender to Montreal without first giving Providence a chance to reclaim him —a violation of baseball law, which compelled the national commission to concel the transfer to Montreal. The Chicago club then decided to retain Lavender —a fortunate thing Tor them, as he quickly developed into a winning pitcher and, virtually single-handed, put the Cubs into the- race that year.

Umpires Must Report

The umpires of the International league will be required to furnish detailed reports of all games this sear son. They will be supplied with a printed form to be filled out and mailed to the league office immediately after each game. Hereafter, when the playing time of a game is two hours or more the umpire must explain in his dally report the reasons for delay. He must also report all troubles and disputes with players, stating fully what they say and do. The back of the report sheet contains a Hat of rules and regulations on deportment for the arbiters, the president’s interpretation of certain play-' ing rules and other instructions for the guidance of the umpire.

Don’t Want Tinker.

Charley Ebbets says he would not want to have Joe Tinker on bis team now. “I believe the feeling against Tinker has failed.” said Ebbets. "The fans of Brooklyn don’t want to have anything to do with him.”

Accommodata 40,000 Persons.

The new home of the New York Highlanders, which will be ready for ifiiE season. wIU accommodate 40^

ykooiffi mm Howland \SALLAP of 3 m/m> Bmy 1 Whi/W ea. VtWWMMI Where are the maldH? l enß once 80 * air - Tl/ll 3° glorious to see? f Jjj No matter ' wliat f Th6y c *f lmed sub * Ilin il But now they dress so wretchYyJj. And seem so brajPj, zen, too! H you but look dwfmnt you must agree That pretty girls .- are few. 1 call to mlnd ths stately Claire, 1 - To whom I bent 1 -t. M my knee; ~~Aj- And Geraldine, with Ups so rare—- ”■ Ah, what a queen was she! Where’er one looked there used to b* A lovely maid In view. But now I And, from bias free. That pretty girls are few. I used to meet them everywhere From Dallas to Dundee; * The beauties who could make me car®, | Charmed by their witchery; Their graces filled my breast with Madge, Julia, Maude and Sue— Why la it, please explain to me. That pretty girls are few? L'ENVOL Friend, say not so—alas, oh, gee! Can what you think be true? Am I a dead leaf on the tree, That pretty girls are few?

CANDID OPINION.

The tanner who has tried to teaebi a eeif to drink out of a bucket can’t understand why any woman should! want to take a milk bath. As soon as a man becomes a political boss he begins to think it is impertinent of the public to try to find out what his plans may be. A woman ought, at least, to have an much faith In her husband as she ha* in her powder rag. Have you ever heard of anybody who was able to cash In a grouch?

Happy Days.

“My happiest days,” said Mr. Rock* Ingham as he signed a check for the purpose of satisfying one of the creditors of his titled son-in-law, “were the days when 1 was carrying a dinner pall that my wife had filled with her own hands.” “H’m,” replied his candid fellow, millionaire, “in those days I suppose you could sit down comfortably and eat with your knife, and never, had to be constantly on the alert for fear you might say you ‘done it’ ”

ENCOURAGEMENT.

“Oh, don’t say that,” replied the other lady. “There is really no reason why you shpuld begin to grow feeble for several years yet"

More Profitable.

“Well, my little man,” said the min-< later as he petted the child cordially) on his curly head, "I suppose you ex-j pact to be the president of the States some day?” “No, thir,” replied the little man. “Pa thayth It payth better to get to l be governor and go on the Thautauquai thlrcuit”

A New One In Town.

He had been In town only a week.j With a bored air he said: “There pro no new Jokes.” "Do you think so?" she replied. "I have heard several of the girls say this evening that there was one present”

His Belief.

His faith is truly marvelous, Not that he Is at all religious. And not because he fancies that His claims on heaven are prodigious. i His faith is simply wonderful; He scans the "folder" and supposes That at the draaf resort he'll find All that the camera discloses.

Merely In the Market.

"Baglpy is always a bull in the market, isn’t bet” “He may be in the market; but; when 1 went to speak to him about his daughter he struck ms as being a good deal of a bedr.”

No Reason to Doubt It.

“My voice is always raised for liberty.” *T guessed as much when 1 heard 1 you complaining last night because your wife wouldn’t let you go to the Elks' stag/*

Judging by Appearances.

"I make It a practise to let tomorrow take care of itself.” wall as It might.”

“I hope,” said the lady who always liked to be told that she looked young enough to he her daughters’ sister, “I shall not live to be very old.”