Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 186, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 August 1914 — Page 3

The MAID of the FOREST

By RANDALL PARRISH

She tellß him that she Is-a quarter-blood . Wyandot and a missionary among the Indians. She has been in search of her lather- She insists that she has seen. Hayward before, but in a British uniHayward refuses her re^ueft^aml They .come trtur 6?V.war party and to escape from the Indians take shelter in a hut on an island. Hayward finds a murdered man in the hut It proves to Be Raoul D’Auvray. a former French officer who is called by the Wyandots “white chief.” Rene appears and Hayward is pussled by her insistance that they have met before. Rene recognises the murdered man as her father, who was known among the Indians as Wa-pa-tee-tah. Brady reports seeing a band of marauding Indians in the vicinity and with them Simon Oirty. Brady’s evidence convinces the girl that there is a British officer by the name of Hayward, who resembles the American. They find escape from the Island cut off. Reconnoitering around the cabin at night Hayward discovers a white man in a British uniform and leaves him for dead after a desperate fight. The Im dians capture the cabin after a hard struggle In which Hayward Is wounded. Rene saves Hayward from death at the hands of the savages and conceals him in the cellar of the cabin. Hayward discovery a half breed negro in the cellar.'; They 'engage ih a fierce fight which ends when the .negro accidentally butts his brains out against the low roof of the cellar. Hayward meets-his double, Joseph Hayward of the British army. The latter admits that he had held D’Auvray a prisoner in the cabin, but that he knew nothing about his death. His object In detaining D’Auvray was to help Incite the Wyandots to war. The Britisher declares that D’Auvray was murdered by the negro, out of vengeance. „

CHAPTER XVll—Continued. Her eyes wandered from me, whom «he located by voice, toward the Englishman, who remained silent, hla scarlet mat conspicuous in the glare. A moment their glances met, his face showing white and drawn, hers I could hot; see. I"'- - *<.■ •- ; "Oh, so it is you,'is it!" a metallic ' Ting to the low voice. “I thought you were safely away before this. And you have been hiding here. I ought to have suspected that. Now I remember, you knew of the tunnel." He did not answer, although I saw his Ups move. What was the mah afraid of? He had been sharp and snappy enough with mes "1 think you mistake, mademoiselle," I interposed, shocked at the expression of'the man’s face. “He has told me how it occurred; it was another who killed your father." “What pther?” ; “A negro half-breed; I encountered him in the passage; we fought It out there, in the dark.” “Alone? Where was this—this man?” “He was lying unconscious beyond, next to the entrance." “And—and," the words trembled on her lips, “you—killed the negro?" “No, mademoiselle, I did not We struggled together; then he fired at •m. 4 and in the flash saw my faoe. The sight seemed to frighten the man, for he broke away, and endeavored to

“Please Stand Back, Monsieur; This Is My Affair.”

run. In his haste he forgot the lowness of the tunnel, struck his head against a sharp projection, and died.” She Btood motionless, her hands pressed to her forehead. Suddenly she turned frohn me, and faced him. “Who was It?” she aßked at lash Tier voice like Ice. "Tell ms" the truth—was It Picaud?” He dropped his eyes, with «n odd gesture of the shoulders. The girl’s rifle flashed to a level, so quickly I could not even throw out my arm. “Say yes,'or no! Please stand back, monsieur; This Is my affair.”

(YlfiWPfGffJ’ Jf

are afraid of me; yes you are—lt to in your eyes. Tou think me an Indian? Hat I will avenge myself? Is that what you leaf?” - T He muttered something in Indian dialect I could not understand. . 'Tou say that to met You dare say that! You are a bold man to try aim threaten me now. Ay, do it then—monsieur,” and she stepped aside facing me, "this brute of an. Englishman, claims to be my husband.” “What,” I exclaimed.ip shocked surprise. "He told me he attempted to make love to you, but failed, yet hinted that marriage might have been pos-' Bible." ..r Tie did venture that far. Jhen, monsieur, I will tfell you the truth. He won my father to him —God alone knows how—and persuaded me to go through the tribal ceremony. To me, a Christian and a French woman, that mockery of form means no more than to him. It was the price I paid for peace.” "But the Wyandots?” “In their eyes I am this man’s squaw,” her voice trembling with scorn, her hand pointing at him. “But in the eyes of God, I am not. His hand has never touched me—never win. Monsieur, I bad to tell you.” "And lam glad you did. It to better tor me to know.’*’ “Oh, I begin to see,” broke in the prisoner, finding his voice. “’T Is not my appearance (hat you object to, mademolseUe, only you prefer the Yankee edition." - - I strode forward threateningly. “You low-lived coward—” “No, monsieur, let him talk,” and she caught my arm. “We have no time now for a personal quarrel. We must save a mag’s life.” . ' - ' “Hte?" > •„ “Monsieur Brady’s. There is but one way. ’T was for his sake, the endeavor to save hhn from torture, that I was so long in coming here. I did all that was in my power, but those .Indians are not of my tribe. They might listen to me, but for the Englishman who leads them. He is heartless, more cruel than any savage; moreover Brady struck him, and he Buspects me of aiding you to escape. There is no mercy in him, and I have failed. They mean to burn him at the stake, and V could do no more." “Where are they now?” I asked In horror. "bonder on the mainland. I could not remain to witness the scene—l could not, monsieur. I was under guard, but stole away In the darkness, and came here, praying I might fyid you yet waiting. Now I know God has answered my prayers. He has shown mb the ffray.” She turned from me, her eyes on hls face. ( V

“Are you any relative, to Monsieur whom you resemble so much?" . He laughed* unpleasantly. “Lord, I hope not—if so the connection is too remote to be considered. I have no desire to claim any Yankee cousins Why?" “The reason is not material. I want you to hear me. Ido not know you killed my father, but I suspect it, and am certain you lured him to his death. If it’ was Picaud’s hand that did the deed, it was done at your desire. I would be justified as a Wyandot in killing you—even this American would grant me the right—but .1 am going to spare you, Monsieur— l on one condition." *' “What?” The very sound of his voice prqped his realization of her seriousness. “That you accompany me to the Indian camp yonder, and help me save that white man’s life.” “What do I care—" "You care for your own, no doubt. Well, monsieur, it hangs by a hair. Only on such a pledge will you go forth from here alive.” "You kill me?” “It is hardly a threat—it is* a certainty, monsieur.” “Tell me the plan then,” he said roughly. - “I can control the Indians,” she went on, “if the Englishman does not interfere. It wifl be your part to command him." “Who is the fellow?” .“The fur trader—Lappin.” He stared into her face; then laughed Insolently. . ~- “Then the game is up. By the gods, it would be more likely he burned me. You make sport to suggest I could influence that monster." jasssis: asri uniform. He has no authority and you of n P hive toe^

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND. -• „ ‘ _• .. ,

. •'" mL * • . ; f _ tor’you to no.” “* "Answer the lady,” I commanded sternly. • . • •J' ■ _>■ Hto eyes settled off my face; they were furtive, cowardly. “Oh—well—ril go,” he said slowly and sullenly. "But it’s little enough good you'll get out of it, I promise von.” ■ '

- ■■ ■ _ , 'j“ CHAPTER XVIII. > ■ '.f? • -■' The Fire in the Clearing.' g 1 “Go on »04,” I commanded grimly, "and do not forget. Mademoiselle, do you go first, and show the way. I will keep good guard, of the rear.” He climbed the stairs, muttering savagely, with me following so Close behind, the muzzle of my gun touched •hto back. -!•' v" “I am playing safd,” I muttered grimly, “so don’t try any tricks in the dark,” We came out on the shore, pausing a moment to gaze out across the water to the gloom of the mainland. The red and yellow flames lit up the open space fairly well, hut all around the black forest wall closed in tightly. It was like a grotesque picture in a frame. Before the fire,, mostly with their backs toward us I counted twenty savages’ on the grass, their red skins and matted hair shgwing clearly- They were silent, motionless, apparently staring into the flames. The fiendish yelling came from beyond, from the other side of the fire, where I caught fitful glimpse of wildly dancing figures, of arms flung In air, of brandished guns, and streaming hair, I saw Mademoiselle rise silently'hr bsir feet, but my hand only gripped harder on the Englishman’s shoulder SS I watched. Brady advanced between two Indians, hto arms bound behind him, a bloody cloth concealing hls law. He was bare-headed, hto clothing rags; and he staggered slightly as he walked. An Indian struck hint with a 'stick, a vicious blow, and Lapkin jerked him forward between the chiefs and the fire. The warriors sat there impassive, emotionless, their eyes cold and merciless. Brady looked Into that ring of savage faces without a quiver, throwing back his shoulders, blood trickling down one cheek. It even seemed to me his eyes smiled. Then one of the chiefs spoke without rising, in deep guttural voice. I heard the words, but they were meaningless, a Jumble of sound, yet somehow menacing, gruff with threat The discordant yelling ceased, and a dark mass of forma clustered beyond the blaze, drawing together in a half circle behind the prisoner. The light played over dark, sinister faces and sparkled in the wild savage eyes. ; The girl stepped backward, noiselessly, until she stood beside me, her hand touching my arm. v “We are here in time,”‘she whiscan delay no longer.” “He is condemned then? They will not spare, him?” “The chief speaks in Shawnee, andI know little of the tongue, hut there is no mercy in his words.” v "And you mean to go out theta* to face those fiends? Are you not afraid?"

She smiled, a sad, brave smile up into my eyes., "Monsieur, I must," she said pleadingly. "It is not only his life, but my duty. I leave my rifle here, and bear this; witt Christ I am not afraid." And in her clasped hands, reddened by the flames, I saw a crucifix. “Mademoiselle, if this man speaks a word of treachery; if by look or gesture he attempts to play us false, will you give me a sign?" “Yes, Monsieur." “Clasp your-hands like this about your head; it will be his death warrant Now, sir, are you ready?" inhere was hate in his eyes, but I was glad of it “Oh! but I’ll get you for this. Yes, I’m ready, you clod of a Yankee peasant! but you’ll pay before ever you get out of these woods —oh. Lord! you'll pay.” ■ " ~p'' : I half thought he would spring at me, and drew back ihy rifle lifted. But he only laughed, his lips snarling, and strode past crunching his way through the thicket. I caught the swift upward glance of the girl’s eyes —a message of thanks, ay! more — and she had followed him. I sprang aside amid the trunks of trees, confident I could not be seen, that every savage eye would be- upon those two advancing figures. ike light afforded me sufficient guidance, and I possessed Borne idea of where I wished to go. I found it with a dozen quick steps, and, even as the first wild stream of discovery burst from the red throats, I crept in behind a decaying log, at the very edge of the opening, and trust my rifle barrel across the rotten bark Deliberately, coolly, with full determination to act, I drew bead on the red jacket. They were not five yards away, advancing straight toward the startled group of chiefs, the girl slightly in advance, the firelight on her uplifted face, the white crucifix gleaming in her hands. The Englishman, a step behind, his first mad anger already dying, walked like a criminal, with towered head, and eyqa glancing fur-

now the whole scene, as saw the chiefs start ffp, grasping thfir weapons, at the first screech of alarm, a fierce intensity in their eyes. A glance at those two unarmed figures, and they stood still, gazing at them, y# with a shadow upon the dark, scowling faces that chilled my Mood. The yelling* ceased; there was no sound, but the pressing forward of bodies, and the crackle of flames. The Shawnee chief, a dark, saturnine face showing under bis war-bonnet, stood erect with folded arms. Down the lime of warriors, apparently oblivious to their presence, Mademoiselle came, the Englishman slouching behind. The

crowd of figures hid tor a moment Brady and his guard, and surged in between me and Lappln. There urns silence; I could hear the wind in the tree tops, the restless movements, the heavy breathing ‘of the excited savages; somewhere a dog barked. Rene stopped, her hand now touching the soldier's sleeve, her eyes on the dark, savage face confronting her. A moment he stared at her, then at the Englishman, while I held my breath. “Why you—here—’gain?” he-asked in halting English, the face like bronze. “I—send you—to forest — why come—back?” “Because I am a, Wyandot and a Christian," she answered, the words slow and distinct. “We kill warriors in battle, not by torture, Sis-e-te-wah. I come with this that I may beg your prisoner’s life. See; it is the cross of the Great God.” V “Huh!” he grunted. "Why Should ye listen—to The warriors of—the Shawnees—are men!” "So are the Wyandots, Sis-e-te-wah; they are as the birds of the air. Once they came to the Tillages of the Shawnees. Tou know it well —they were warriors,'Under great chiefs. Yet they listen to words of wisdom frofit's squaw, lam Running Water; I have sat in the councils of my people; I am the daughter of the White Chief.’’ She glaneed about her proudly, looking into the ring of dark faces. "I am a squaw, but I am a Wyandot—no Shawnee dare place a hand on me.”

“ "Tis so," he answered gravely. "I know—but not my—young men.' It best yon go—l speak true—the white man wUI die—it has been decided—the Shawnees know not—your God—the God of the Long Rohes—the white man dies.” "But he came in peape, not war; he was a messenger to the Wyandots." . The chief had stepped back, and lifted hto hand, but now he stood statue-like before her. “He great hunter—he warrior—we have—met in—battle. He kill warriors—my tribe —now he die—lt to spoken. Sis-e-te-wah listen—no njore.” ."But you must! you shall!” she insisted. “ ’Tis not the Wyandots alone who say this. You may refuse me; you may disregard the cross I bear, but you dare not disobey the word of the English—of the great chief across the water. If you will not heed the

I Drew Back, My Rifle Lifted.

word of a squaw, listen to this man—a* warrior of the Red Coats." , "I know him not,” coldly, “nor care what he—says. He nothing—to Sls-e----te-wah —why he—come here?" "To stop this deed, this dastardly outrage; he speaks for the Great Chief. ’Tis best the Shawnees listen. Now, monsieur." She stepped aside and the Englishman stood •alone, facing the grim-faced Shawnee. “You Bay you know not who I am, Sis-e-te-wah," be said sharply. “Then I will tell you; you and your warriors. I am an officer of EJngland, an aide to Hamilton. Will you hear me now?" There was silence, profound breathless; the bold defiance had fallen upon them like a blow. Then, before even the chief could answer, the crowding ring Of Indians was hrok6Q,.<and into »the cirede of firellt space strode the fur-trader, his mottled face purple, his mustache bristling. One moment he glowered into the soldier’s face.* and the latter stepped back recoiling against mademoiselle, all his audacity gone. Lappin laughed, the cruel echo of it breaking the silence. (TO BK CONTINUED.)

Many a man's popularity begins and l eads himself.

THE STORY OF PERCY, THE ANGEL OUle Oneal (character woman) — Listen, bunch! I want to read something I just glommed out of a show sheet It will make you laugh oat loud. Dad Waden (jrho knew Booth—by night)—Woman, can’t yon see I am studying a part I will play next sear son, undoubtedly? Algy (late of the ’Alls)—Undoubtedly—not! Wat did jr* see in the Weekly Breezer, Ollie? OUle Oneal—Listen. Here it Is: “One of the most romantic affairs that has taken place this season among stars of Hie dramatic firmament occurred last week at Los Angeles when Lottie Leydon, leading lady of the Sea Cliff stock company, and Bert Walker, her leading man, were united in marriage. It to said to be a romance of long standing. The couple have an offer from a prominent eastern producer to play an all-season engagement on Broadway.” Will Bately—Holy acrobats! A season on Broadway! What’s the matter with those Coast people—getting looney right? Why, that boy could — Ollie Oneal—Hist, Will. Never mind about the Broadway part of It, but tell me what PerCy Dolittle will say when he reads this little item this morning? He’ll do something desperate I know. Algy—Wy should ’e? Ollie Oneal—Why should he? Will, toll this English comedian why Percy win hit the ceiling when he sees this. , Will Bately—lt’s Ilka this, Algy.*

"She Got a Tip Somewhere That Percy Was Going to Spend That ThirtyFive for Flowers.”

Poor old Percy was the one who made Lottie what she Is today. His drag and his coin. ;.v Tottle Sanders (a soubrotte) —Tm glad he got it banded to him, take my word. Spendln’ his dad’s change on an actress fiancee. Serves him right. If be boosted a poor chorus /girl and made a leadin' woman of her he’d have'been appreciated. Do you think if it was my gentleman friend I would .•have gone an’ married another? Not me! But, what’s the use; 111 never get a change to play a part like that Will Bately—What I don’t understand is that reference to Bert as a leading man. When Morrie Rosenberg got back from the Coast last weqk he told me Bert was playing juveniles and doing the job badly. 4)ad Wadell—l know Mr. Walker to be an excellent actor. I started bins in the business. Will Bately—He wouldn't be the first peanut peddler you started on the tvrong track Dad, if you told Bert Walker he could act you ought to get 30 days in the cooler. The truck drivers lost a good loan when be took to the boards. Tottle Sanders—You know it! He ought to be understudy to a scene shifter. lie worked with ns a week one time and the way he played was a shame. Algy—’E must be a blighter, I dire *'y. _ Lily Williams (chorus lady)—That wasn’t it at all. Bert is a fine actor, but be couldn’t work In Tottie’s company. He was too artistic and refined. Imagine a real leading man, like Bert, out with a four-trunk show playing honky tonka. That notice OBie read about him is all to the good.

Dad Wadell —I once taught him the grave-yard scene from Hamlet and the excellent way he did it would have gotten him a position in my awn company—if I had one. OOto Oneal—All I can think about Is poor Percy. Imagine tbs lad’s feelings when he realises that Lottie. Is tons out of his life forever. Will Bately—lf she married a real actor Percy wouldn’t care. He's game. Bat when be hears it— Ollie Oneal—Poor Percy was so wrapped up in Lottie. Remember when she waa with ns In "The Torn of the Road." doing Luey the miner’s daughter? Tottle Sanders—Did she do Lucy? Lily William —She did it to a finish twice a day- I was with the anther one night when she sssssaingtad it He was ready to throw a fit because that waa his pet oharaeter, fTi" -iy Y. "5;;

AT THE BOOKING OFFICE OFF-STAGE COMEDIES

By Will Bradshaw

Dad Waden—What did he know about it; he was only the author. I Ollie Oneal—That was when Percy first saw Lottie. We., were playing Waynes burg, where hto father owns three coal mines. Two hard and one soft Percy was in a box with hto family the night we opened. After the act the house manager came back and said there was a millionaire's son out in front wanted to come back and meet the ideal of hto dreams. Tor s minute my heart stopped beating. X thought the fortune toner's words were Casing true — Algy—Wat did the fortune teller toB r. OUle? , CDad Wadell—TeH us. I'm a student of the psychic myself.' ' . s WUI Bately—What about Percy that night? Ollie Oneal—A fortune teller told me that when fate looked darkest to me a light complected man with a million would cross my*fcath. Algy—Wonderful! It’s about time ’e’d show up, -OUle. You’ve been out pf booking three weeks now.' OUle Oneal —Some day he will come, never fear. Dad Wadell—l hope he will be interested in Shakespeare—l’d like to revive— OUie Oneal—When the Waynesburg manager made that announcement I thought it was my man. Algy—But It wasn’t. Ottie Oneal—Nope. It woe Persy begging for an introduction to Lottie. He met her and from that minute on he was a goffer. So was aha. Percy's pa heard about it and tried to break

off their engagement. Percy was going to leave home and wark in tbo mines to support her. Instead father gave him a million and showed him the old home’s exit. From that time' on Percy planned to make Lottie & star. She promised him she’d marry him the day her name lit up Broadway. Percy went in strong then. Ho hired a staff of authors to study her at dose range and write something to fit. He rented his own theater, set up a scenic shop, hired press agents, dined critics, started a show paper to boost her and had a full house lined up for her opening in her new play. Algy—Dukes an* lords, w”at luck! Onie Oneal—Then she got a tip somewhere that Percy had just thirtyfive left out of his million and he waa going to spend that thirty-five for flowers for her premiere— Dad Wadell—And— OWe Oneal—She left tor Frisco tha morning of the opening day. Shu wanted Percy to keep the thirty-five to take him back to Waynesburg. Algy—l wonder w’at *eH s’y w*ea '• sees the item? Dud Wadell—He may lose his faith in womankind. Booking Agent (entering)—l want a, straight and a juvenile for summer stock (Copyright. 1914, by W. O. Chapman.)

The contention that “hospitals tor the care of the sick and infirm are tha product of Christianity,’’ is probably correct. Although in ancient' timer there may have been places for the reception of strangers and travelers, It‘ is quite doubtful If there was anything of the nature of charitable Institutions for the reception and regular care of tfle sick The “Bethesda” of Scripture was probably no mora than a collection of sheds built roundj the ports of alleged miraculous pool*. Among the Greeks and Romans therai is to be found but little evidence elf the existence of hospitals in our seusa of the word.

When Louis Napoleon wan seeking to attract the attention of France ta order ttfirt securethe power

Hospitals for the Sick.

The Hobby-Rider.