Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 201, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 August 1915 — Page 2

HIS LOVE STORY

by MARIE VAN VORST

ILLUSTRATIONS WALTERS

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SYNOPSIS.

L* Comte de Sabron, captain of French cavalry, takes to hia quarter* to rat*« by hand a motherless Irish terrier pup, and names it Pitchoune. He dines with the Marquise d’Rscliffnac and meets Miss Julia Redmond, American heiress. He is ordered to Algiers but is not allowed to take servants or dogs. Miss Redmond takes care of Pitchoune. who, longing for his master, runs away from her. The marquise plane to marry Julia to the Due de Tremont. Pitchoune follows Sabron to Algiers, dog and master meet, and Sabron gfts permission to keep his dog with him. The Due de Tremont finds the American heiress capricious. Sabron. wounded In an engagement, falls Into the dry bed of a river and Is watched over by Pitchoune. After a horrible night and day Pltohoune leaves him. Tremont takes Julia and the marquise to Algiers In hie yacht but has doubts about Julia’s Red Cross mission. After long search Julia gets trace of Sabron's whereabouts. Julia for the moment turns matchmaker in behalf of Tremont. Hammet Abou tells the Marquise where he thinks Sabron may be found.

CHAPTER XXI—Continued.

Pitchoune ran with his nose to the ground. There were several trails for a dog to follow on that apparently untrodden page of desert history. Which one would he choose? Without a •cent a dog does nothing. His nostrils are his Instinct. His devotion, his faithfulness, his intelligence, his heart—all come through hia nose, if man’s heart they say. Is In hia stomach—or in his pocket. A dog’s is in his nostrilß. If Pitchoune had chosen the wrong direction, this story would never have been written. Michette did not give birth to the sixth flippy, In the atables of the garrison, for nothing. Nor had Sabron saved him on the night of the memorable dinner for nothing. With his nose flat to the sands Pitchoune smelt to east and to west, to north and south, took a scent to the east, decided on It —for what reason will never -be told —and followed It. Fatigue and hunger were forgotten as hour after hour Pitchoune ran across the Sahara. Mercifully, the sun had been clouded by the precursor of a windstorm. The air’was almost cool. Mercifully, the wind did not arise until the little terrier had pursued his course to the end.

There are occasions when an animal's Intelligence surpasses the human. When, toward evening of the twelve hours that It had taken him to reach a certain point, he came to a settlement of mud huts on the borders of an oasis, he was pretty nearly at the end of hia strength. The oaaia was the only sign of life in five hundred miles. There was very little left In hls small body. He Jay down, panting, but hls bright spirit was unwilling just then to leave his form and hovered near him. In the religion of Tatman dogs alone have souls. Pitchoune panted and dragged himself to a pool of water around which the green palms grew, and he drank and drank. Then the little desert wayfarer hid himself In the bushes and slept till morning. All night he was racked with convulsive twitches, but he slept and In his dreams he killed a young chicken and ate it. In the morning he took a bath in the pool, and the sun rose while he swam In the water.

have seen him he would have seem-1 the epitome of heartless egoism. He was the epitome of wisdom. Instinct and wisdom sometimes go closely together. Solomon was only instinctive when he asked for wisdom. The epicurean Lucullus, when dying, asked for a certain Nile fish cooked in wine. v ‘ % Pitchoune shook out his short hairy body and came out of the oasis pool Into the sunlight and trotted into the Arabian village. • •••••• Patou Ann! parched corn in' a brazier before her house. Her house was a mud hut with yellow walls. It had no roof and was open to the sky. Patou Anni was ninety years old, a lance—straight as one of the lances the men of the village carried when they went to dispute with white people. These lances with which the young men had fought, had won them the last battle. They had been victorious on the field. Patou Anni was the grandmother of many men. She had been the mother of many men. Now she parched corn tranquilly, prayerfully. “Allah! that the corn should not burn; Allah! that it should be sweet; Allah! that her men should be always successful.” She was the fetish of the settlement. In a single blue garment, her black scrawny breast uncovered, the thin veil that the Fellaheen wear pushed back from her fhce, her fine eyes were revealed and she might have been a priestess as she bent over her corn! “Allah! Allah Akbar!“ Bather than anything should happen to Patou Anni, the settlement would have roasted Its enemies alive, torn them in shreds. Some of them said that she was two hundred years old. There was a charmed ring drawn around her house. People supposed that if any creature crossed it uninvited, it would fall dead The sun had risen for an hour and the air was still cooL Overhead, tbs

sky, unstained by a single cloud, was blue as a turquoise floor, and against it, black and portentous, flew the vultures. Here and there the sun-touched pools gave life and reason to the oa6is. Fatou Annl parched her corn. Her barbaric chant was interrupted by a sharp bark and a low pleading whine. She had never heard sounds Just like that The dogs of the village were great wolflike creatures. Pitchoun.e’s bark was angelic compared with theirs. He crossed the charmed circle drawn around her house, and did not fall dead, and stood before her, whining. Fatou Annl left her corn, stood upright and looked at Pitchoune. To her the Irish terrier was an apparition. The fact that he had not fallen dead proved that he was beloved of Allah. He waa, perhaps, a genie, an afrit. Pitchoune fawned at her feet. She murmured a line of the Koran. It did not seem to afTect his demonstrative affection. The woman bent down to him after making a pass against the Evil Eye, and touched him, and Pitchoune licked her hand. Fatou Annl screamed, dropped him, went into the house and made her ablutions. When she came out Pitchoune sat patiently before the parched corn, and he again came crawling to her. The Arabian woman lived in the last hut of the village. She could satisfy her curiosity without shocking her neighbors. She bent down to scrutinize Pitchoune’s collar. There was a sacred medal on It with sacred inscriptions which she could not read. But as soon as she had freed him this time, Pitchoune tore himself away from her, flew out of the sacred ring and disappeared. The he ran back, barking appealingly; he took the hem of her dress In hia mouth and pulled her. He repeatedly did this and the superstitious Arabian believed herself to be called divinely. She cautiously left the doorstep, her veil falling before her face, came out of the sacred ring, followed to the edge of the berry field. From there Pitchoune sped over the desert; when he stopped and looked back at her. Fatou Annl did not follow, and he returned to renew his entreaties. When she tried to touch him he escaped, keeping at a safe distance. The village began to

Hour After Hour Pitchoune Ran Across the Sahara.

stir. Blue and yellow garments fluttered in the streets. “Allah Akbar," Fatou Anni murmured. “these are days of victory, of recompense.” She gathered her robe around her and, statelily and impressively, started toward the huts of her grandsons. When she returned, eight young warriors, fully armed, accompanied her. Pitchoune sat beside the parched corn, watching the brazier and her meal. Fatou Anni pointed to the desert. She said to the young men, “Go with this genie. There is something he wishes to show us. Allah is great. Go.” • • • • • • • When the Capitaine de Sabron opened his eyes in consciousness, they encountered a square of blazing blue heaven. He weakly put up his hand to shade his sight, and a cotton awning, supported by four bamboo poles, was swiftly raised over his head. He saw objects and took cognizance of them. On the floor in the low doorway of a mud hut sat three litttle naked children covered with flies and dirt. He was the guest of Fatou Anni. These were three of her hundred great-great-grandchildren. The babies were playing with a little dog. Sabron knew the dog but could not articulate hie name. By his side sat the woman to whom he owed his life. Her veil fell over her face. She was braiding straw. He looked at her intelligently. She brought him a drink of cool water In an earthen vessel, with tne drops oozing from its porous sides. The hut reeked with odors which met his nostrils at every

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

breath ne are*. .« ukM ha Arable: "Where am I? "In the hut of victory," said Fatou Annl. Pitchoune overheard the voice an«l came to Sabron's side. His master murmured: "Where are we, my friend?" Th* dog leaped on hia bed and licked hia face. Fatou Annl, with a whisk of straw, swept the fließ from him. ▲ great weakness spread its wings above him and he fell asleep. Days are all alike to those who lia in mortal sickness. The hours are Intensely colorless and they slip and slip and slip into painful wakefulness, into fever, Into drowsiness finally, and then into weakness. The Capitaine de Sabron, although he had no family to apeak of, did possess, unknown to the Marquise d’Es* clignac, an old aunt in the provinces, and a handful of heartless cousins who were Indifferent to him. Nevertheless he clung to life and In the hut of Fatou Annl fought for existence. Every time that he was ’conscious he struggled anew to hold to the thread of life. Whenever he grasped the thread he vanquished, and whenever he lost It, he went down, down. Fatou Anni cherished him. He was a soldier who had fallen in the battle against her sons and grandsons. He was a man and a strong one, and she despised women. He was her prey .and he was her reward and she cared for him; as she did so, she becams maternal. Hls eyes which, when he was conscious, thanked her; his thin hands that moved on the rough blue robe thrown over him, the devotion of the dog—found a responsive chord in the great-grandmother’s heart. Once he smiled at one of the naked, big-bellied great-great-grandchildren. Beni Hassan, three years old, came up to Sabron with his fingers in hls mouth and chattered like a bird. This proved to Fatou Anni that Sabron had not the Evil Eye. No one but the children were admitted to the hut, but the sun and the flies and the cries of the village came In without permission, and now and then, when the winds arose, he could hear the Btirring of the palm trees. Sabron was reduced to skin and bone. Hia nourishment was insufficient, and the absence of all decent care was Blowly taking him to death. It will never be known why he did not die. Pitchoune took to making long excursions. He would be absent for days, and In his clouded mind Sabron thought the dog was reconnoitering for him over the vast pink sea without there —which, if one could sail across as in a ship, one would sail to France, through the walls of mejlow old Tarascon, to the chateau of good King Rene; one would sail as the moon sails, and through an open window one might hear the sound of a woman’s voice singing. The song, ever illusive and irritating in its persistency, tantalized his sick ears.

Sabron did not know that he would have found the chateau Bhut had he sailed there in the moon. It was as well that he did not know, for his wandering thought would not have known where to follow, and there was repose in thinking of the Chateau d’Esclignac. It grew terribly hot. Fatou Anni, by his side, fanned him with a fan she had woven. The great-great-grand-children on the floor in the mud fought together. They quarreled over bits of colored glass, Sabron’s breath came panting. Without, he heard the cries of the warriors, the lance-bearers —he heard the cries of Fatou Anni’s sons who were going out to battle. The French soldiers were in a distant part of the Sahara and Fatou Ahni’s grandchildren were going out to pillage aDd destroy. The old woman by his side cried out and beat her breast. Now and then she looked at him curiously, as if she saw death on his pale face. Now that all her sons and grandsons had gone, he was the only man left in the village, as even boys of sixteen had joined the raid. She wiped his forehead and gave him a potion that had been pierced with arrow’s. It was all she could do for a captive. Toward sundown, for the first time Sabron felt a little better, and aftei twenty-four hours’ absence, Pitchoune w hined at the hut door, but would not come in. Fatou Anni called on Allah, left her patient and went out to see what was the matter with the dog. At the door, in the shade of a palm, stood two Bedouins. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Why Some Are Color Blind.

It is known that color blind people cannot distinguish colors, but the reason for this is not generally known. They cannot distinguish many colors, and most of them usually give the appearance of being gray. The cause lies in the constitution of the retina, which microscopically consists of rods and cones. If & certain part of the cones is wanting the sensation they arouse is also wanting. A blind man who does not see at all is not much more deceived by his sight than the color blind man. Even the normal eye has not cones fine enough to detect ultra violet rays and electric rays.

Soldiers’ Winter Clothing.

The soldiers of Japan have learned the value of paper clothing for winter wear. The paper, which is made from mulberry bark, has little, sizing in it, and is soft and warm. Between two sheets of the paper they place a this layer of silk wadding, and then quilt the whole. It is something of a drawback that clothing so made is not wasn&ble, but is a winter campaign a soldier has othpr things to think a than the dirt on his uniform. —Youth’i Companion. T - -

This photograph, taken on one of the main roads followed by th*> Teutonic allies In their great drive against _ the Russians In Poland, shows a division of German infantry marching to the battle line while Austrian infantry are resting by the roadside.

A SHELL THAT HIT

Graphic Description Penned by Frederick Palmer. One Successful Shell Out of a Thousand; the One Supposed to Make Waste of Other 999 Worth While.

By FREDERICK PALMER.

(International News Service.) British Headquarters, France. — There are points along the British front which see nothing but desultory shell fire and sniping for weeks and months on end; points where neither side has made an attack through the winter and spring. These are known as quiet corners. A practical stalemate exists. Neither Briton nor. German finds any object in trying for a gain. Troops who have been in the thick of it elsewhere are sometimes j sent to these regions for a rest and a change. Other points—points which stick out, sb it were —are known as “hot corners,” where the guns and rifles seem always busy. Such has been the La Bassee region. A visitor may see about as much of what is going on in La Bassee as an ant can see of the surrounding landscape when promenading in the grass. ♦The guns of both sides Beem engaged in a kind of savage, vindictive, blind man’s buff sparring. Of course, the gunners have a point on the map at which they are aiming. They have information in one way or another that there is something at this point worth shelling. It may be a house; and of course, every house is down on a large scale map. Troops may be in the house; or if they are not, and you destroy the house, you have destroyed shelter for troops and made the enemy nervous. At least, theoretically, have made him so; nothing seems to be able to make the British soldier actually so, or the French peasant either. We had left our car to go forward on foot. We were coming into the zone where the inhabitants had been ordered to vacate their homes. This is an unfailing sign that whatever the condition of your health you are becoming a poorer risk every minute for a life insurance company. A shell may get a group of soldiers in a house or in a dugout. Houses are not safe shelter in hot corners where the visitor, instead of looking for houses which have been damaged by shell fire, looks for the anomalous one that has not. There was one such on an adjoining road —an estaminet, which is a public drinking place or case. A stretcher was being borne into the door of this estaminet and above the doorway of the -estaminet was chalked some lettering which indicated that it was a first clearing station for the wounded. Lying on stretchers on the floor were some wounded men. They looked a little stunned, which was only natural when you have been as close as they had to a burst of a shell —a shell that made a hit. The concussion was bound to have this effect. A third man was the best illustration of shell destructiveness. Bullets make only holes. Shells make gouges, fractures and pulp. He too had a bandaged head, and had been hit in several places; but the worst wound was in the leg, where an artery had been cut, causing a loss of blood.-—He was weak with sort of a “Where am I?” look in his eyes. if that fragment which had hit his leg had hit his head or his neck or his abdomen he would have been killed instantly. He was an illustration of how hard it is to kill a man with several shell fragments unless some of them strike in the right place. For he was going to live; the surgeon had whispered that fact in his ear, that one important fact. And it was the one successful shell out'of the thousand; that one which was supposed to make the waste ot the other nine hundred and ninetynine worth while. Returning by the same road by which we came, an automobile passed swiftly by. We had a glimpse of the big. painted red cross on an ambulance side and. at the rear where the curtains were roiled up for yen-

DRIVING THE RUSSIANS FROM POLAND

tilation, of four pair of soldier bootsoles at the end of four stretchers which had been slid noiselessly Into place at the estaminet by the sturdy, kindly, experienced medical corps men. As we walked along, one of our guns of a battery near by smoked again in the course of-a desultory cannonade, seeking to pay back in kind for injuries which the four prostrate figures in the ambulance had received.

CARRIES COINS IN HIS EARS

California Man Has Cash Register System That Is Exclusive and Unique. Fall River Mills, Cal.—Women carry their looso change in their stockings, children put their money in their mouths, but Norris Bethel, head clerk of Florin Brothers of this place, makes a cash register of his ears. When he is Belling goods and is in a hurry for a nickel or a dime to make change, he reaches to one ear or the other and finds the needed coin. Or, if he receives a small coin and is at some distance from the cash register, he puts it into one of his ears until he has use for it or until he is close to the cash register and can relieve himself. The system is considered unique, and it is Bethel’s exclusively.

Grand Rapids, N. D. —Fourteen years ago Judge L. K. Hassell of Grand Forks county billed Jacob de Lorimier of Chicago for $1.25 for a certified copy of a will. He has just received de Lorimief’s check for $1.25 in payment of the old account.

The .Casino at Narragansett pier was the scene of the novel black and white costume ball, given by Mrs. Talbot Han an. The Casino, arrayed with streamers of black and white and balcony decorated with checks of similar colors and ihe entrance designed with the same effect, formed a fitting background to the costumes of the participants. It was the first notable bail of the season and was preceded by many dinner parties. One of the features of the affair was the hostess, Mrs. Talbot Han an, in her black and white taffeta gown trimmed with black velvet and ornamented with figures. A striking part of the costume were the pantalettes and the skipping rope which she carried throughout the evening.

Pays After 14 Years

NOVEL COSTUME BALL

STRUCK WHEN READY

Italy Spent Ten Months Preparing for War.

Perfect Military Machine Is Organized With Remarkable Secrecy and Speed—General Cadorna an Italian Joffre. Rome.—lt has generally bees thought that organization was not a strong point with the Italians. But today the Italian army shows how fine a work of organization has been accomplished. But the ten months while Italy was neutral were employed in organizing, with remarkable secrecy and speed, a perfect military machine. It was known that Italy was preparing, but how extensively was a well-kept secret. Today she has no lack of “high explosives” or of anything else (down to masks against poisoned gas), which a close study of the war in other parts of Europe has shown to be necessary. The credit is generally divided between Premier Salandra, General Cadorna, the chief of staff, and Zupelli. the minister for war. These three have shown themselves to be great men in this work of preparation and foresight. General Cadorna, by the way, is not commander in chief, but chief of staff. For the king is commander in chief. Victor Emmanuel 111 is daily winning for himself the love of his soldiers. With ceaseless activity he rushes from point to point at the front, appearing where he is least expected, to share a hasty meal with the officers, and go round to say to the men a few words of sympathy and encouragement, often under fire. General Cadorna seems to be an Italian Joffre. He has not yet been so fiercely tested. Like Joffre, Cadorna hates politics in war, talk, excitement and humbug of all sorts. Organization and discipline are his instruments, and he has given the country a quiet confidence in slowly maturing results, which is just what every country must have in order to endure this long and terrible war of exhaustion. Not that Cadorna Is slow to strike; far otherwise. For one recalls the rapid seizure of the innumerable passes of the Trentine and Carnio Alps in the first days of the war, before the Austrians had got their men up from Galicia. Besides those called out by conscription, 300,000 volunteers enlisted before recruiting was stopped by the authorities. Italy has a great reserve of men. And she has less to fear for her race from the losses of this war than any great nation except Russia. For her birth rate is natural and high. Little children are not only loved in Italy, but they are plentiful. There is a notable absence of “tall stories” from the front in Italian talk and in the Italian press. The stories, perfectly reasonable and unsensatlonal, of course emphasize the courage and endurance of the troops about which there is no shadow of doubt, and markedly so their humanity. Stories of the kind treatment of Austrian prisoners and wounded are told everywhere. All stories, some told to me by eye witnesses of high military standing, emphasize the excellence of the Italian artillery and its superiority to the Austrian. The natural and artificial strength of the enemy’s prepared positions on the Isonzo alone renders progress slow. There is a great development of trained nursing by Italian ladies. This began during the earthquakes of recent years and the Tripoli war. It is now a great movement of the day. and a valuable step forward in Italian life where woman nurses have been till recently notable by their absence.

IRON IN LOG STRIPS SAW

Horseshoe Imbedded In Tree for Half Century Cuts Teeth From Saw. . Vancouver, Wash. —Imbedded so deeply in a log that the bark had grown over it, a hig horseshoe was found in a log at the Beer sawmill, near Manor, recently. The saw was stripped of teeth by the shoe when It struck. . • *' .• ' '