Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 133, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 June 1916 — Page 2

The City of Numbered Days

SYNOPSIS. Brouillard, chief engineer of the Nlquola Irrigation dam, meets J. Wesley Cortex right and his daughter, Genevieve, and explains the reclamation work to them. Cortwrlght sees in the project a big ohance to make money. Cortwrlght organises a company and obtains government contracts to furnish power and material for the dam construction. A busy city springs up about the site. Steve Massingale threatens to start a gold rush if Broulllard does not influence President Ford to build a railroad branch to the place, thus opening an easy market for the are from the "Little Susan” mine. On a visit to Amy Mass In gale at her father a mine Broulllard tells her of his need for money to pay off his dead father's debts and that to be free he would sacrifice anything save his love for one woman. Though his influence is vital to the building of the railroad extension she tells him to be true to himself. He decides for It. Mlrapolis. the city of numbered days booms. Cortwrlght persuades Broulllard to become consulting engineer of the consolidated electric power company in return for SIOO,OOO stock. Rumors that the government will call a halt on the dam cause Grislow to tell Broulllard that he Is leaning to the Cortwright side to make fne city permanent. Broulllard denies it. Permanent building in Mlrapolis and a real estate boom are in full swing when the stoppage of work on the railroad threatens a panic. Broulllard spreads the Masslngale story of placer gold In the river bed and starts & gold rush.

Look here, young man, would you commit a shady deed In order to save your sweetheart a lot of financial worry—if you knew you wouldn’t get Into trouble, but if you knew also that the deed would cause Other men to lose money?

CHAPTER X—Continued. **lt looks like a run on a bank,” said Brouillard. “It is,” was the crisp reply. “Garner has beaten everybody elße to the home plate, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’s been talking, and every man in that mob is a potential panic breeder. That thing has got to be nipped in the bud, right now!” "Yes," Broulllard agreed. He was still wresUing with his own besetment —the prompting which involved a deliberate plunge where up to the present crisis he had been merely wading in the shallows. A little thing stung him alive to the imperative call of the moment —the sight of Afay Massingale walking down the street with Tig Smith, the Triangle-Circle foreman. It was of the death of her hopes that he was thinking when he said coolly: “You have sized it up precisely, Mr. Cortwright; that is a panic in the making, and the bubble won’t stand for very much pricking. Give me a free hand with your check book for a few minutes and I’ll try to stop ft.” It spoke volumes for the nfillionaira promoter’s quick discernment and decision that he asked no questions. “Do it,” he snapped. “I’ll cover you for whatever it takes. Don’t wdit; that crowd is getting bigger every minute.” Brouillard ran downstairs and across the street. It was no part of his intention to stop and speak to Amy Massingale and the ranchman, but he did it, and even walked a little way with them before he turned back to elbow his way through the sidewalk throng and into Garner’s dingy little office. “You are selling Mirapolip holdings short today, Garner?” he asked when he had pushed through the crowd to the speculator’s desk. And when Garner laughed and there were no takers he placed his order promptly. “You may bid in for me, at yesterday’s prices, anything within the city limits —not options, you understand, but the real thing. Bring your papers pver to my office after banking hours and we’ll close for whatever you’ve been able to pick up.” He said it quietly, but there could be no privacy at such a time- and in such a plaice.

“What’s that, Mr. Brouillard?” demanded one in the counter jam. "You’re giving Gamer a blank card to buy for your account? Say, that’s plenty good enough for me. Garner, cancel my order to sell, will you? When the chief engineer of the government water works believes in Mirapolis futures and bets his money on 'em, I’m not selling.” The excitement was already dying down and the crowd was melting away from Garner’s sidewalk when Brouillard rejoined Mr. Cortwright in the second-floor room across the street. “Well, it’s done,” he announced shortly, adding: "It’s only a stopgap. To make the bluff good, you’ve got to have the railroad.’’ “That’s the talk," said the promoter, relighting the cigar which the few minutes of crucial suspense had extinguished- And then, without warning: “You’re carrying something up your sleeve, Brouillard. What is it?” “It Is the one thing you need, Mr. Cortwright. If I could get my own consent to use it I could bring the railroad here in spite pf those New Yorkers who seem to have an attack of cold feet.” Mr. J. Wesley Cortwright’s hesitation was so brief as to be almost imperceptible. "I suppose that is your way of saying that your share in the table stakes isn't big enough. All * right; the same can’t stop in the middle of a bet How much is it going ta eost us to stay in?" _ «Tba cost isn’t precisely in the kind

By Francis Lynde

C*PFi|ht fcj Chirk* Scribner'* Sou

of figures that you understand best, Mr. Cortwright,” Brouillard said half musingly. Then, with sudden vehemence: “It is altogether a question of motive with me, Mr. Cortwright; of a motive which you couldn’t understand in a thousand years. If that motive prevails, you get your railroad and a little longer lease of life. If it doesn’t, Mirapolis will go to the devil some few weeks or months ahead of its schedule —and I’ll take my punishment with the remainder of the fools —apd the knaves.”

He was on his feet and moving toward the door of exit when the promoter got his breath. “Here, hold on, Brouillard —for heaven’s sake, don’t go oft and leave it up in the air that way!” he protested. But the corridor door had opened and closed and Brouillard was gone. Two hours later Mirapolis the phrenetic had a new thrill, a shock so electrifying that the rumor of the railr road’s halting decision sank into insignificance and was forgotten. The sud-denly-evoked excitement focussed in a crowd besieging the window of the principal jewelry shop—focussed more definitely upon a square of white paper in the window in the center of which was displayed a little heap of virgin gold in pmall nuggets and coarse grains. While the crowds in the street were still struggling and fighting to get near enough to read the labeling placard, the Daily Spotlight came out with an extra which was all headlines, the telegraph wires to the East were buzzing, and the town had gone mad. The gold specimen—so said the placard and the news extra —had been washed from one of the bars in the Niquoia. By three o’clock the madness had culminated in the complete stoppage of all work among the town builders and on the great dam as well, and gold-crazed mobs were frantically digging and panning on every bar in the river from the valley outlet to the power dam five miles away.

It was between tvyo_ and three o’clock in the afternoon of the day in which Mirapolis went placer mad when word came to the reclamation service headquarters that the power was cut off and that there were no longer men enough at the mixers and on the forms to keep the work going if the power should come on again. Handley, the new fourth assistant, brought the news, dropping heavily into a chair and shoving his hat to the back of his head to mop his seamed and sun-hrowned face. "Why the devil didn’t you. fellows turn out?” he demanded savagely of Leshington, Anson and Grislow, who were lounging in the office and very pointedly waiting for the lightning to strike. “Gassman and I have done everything but commit cold-blooded murder to hold the men on the Job. Where’s the boss?” Nobody knew, and Grislow, at least, was visibly disturbed at the question. It was Anson who seemed to have the latest Information about Brouillard. “He came in about eleven o’clock, rummaged for a minute or two in that drawer you’ve got your foot on, Grizzy, and then went out again. Anybody seen him since?”

There was a silence to answer the query, and the hydrographer righted his chair abruptly and closed the opened drawer he had- been utilizing for a foot-rest. He had a long memory for trifles, and at the mention of the drawer a disquieting picture had flashed itself upon the mental screen. There were two figures in the picture, Brouillard and himself, and Brouillard was tossing the little buckskin sack of gold nuggets into the drawer, where it had lain undisturbed ever since—until now.

Morover, Grislow’s news of Brouillard, if he had seen fit 1 » publish it, was later than Anson’s. At one o’clock, or thereabout, the chief had come into the mapping room for a glance at the letters on his desk. One of the letters —a note in a square envelope —he had thrust into his pocket before going out. "It looks as if the chief had gone with the crowd,” said Leshington when the silence had grown almost portentous, “though that wouldn’t be like Jrim. Has anybody found put yet who touched off the gold-mounted skyrocket?”

Grislow came out of his brown study with a start. "Levy won’t tell who gave him those nuggets to put in his window. I tried him. All he will say is that the man who left the sample is perfectly reliable and that he dictated the exact wortjing of the placard that did the business.” “i saw Harlan, of the Spotlight, half an hour ago,” cut in Anson. “He’s plumb raving crazy, like everybody else, but there is something faintly resembling method in bis madness. He figures it that we government people are out of a job permanently; that

CHAPTER XI

Bedlam

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

with the discovery of these placers—or, rather, with the practically certain rediscovery of them by the mob —Mirapolis will Jump to the front rank as a gold camp, and the reclamation service will have to call a halt on the Buckskin proiect." Leshington’s long, plaln-soqt face grew wooden. “You say ‘practically certain.’ The question is: Will they be rediscovered? Bet any of you a box of Poodles' Flor de near Havanas that it’s some new kind of a flip-fiap invented by J. Wesley and his boomers. What do you say?” "Good Lord!” growled Handley. “They didn’t ne6d any new stunts. They had the world by the ear, as it was.”

“That’s all right,” returned Leshington; “maybe they didn’t. I heard a thing or two over at Bongras’ last night that set me guessing. There was a piece of gossip coming up the pike about the railroad pulling out of the game, or, rather, that it had already pulled out.” Once more silence fell upon the group In the mapping room, and this time it was Grislow who broke it. “I suppose Harlan is getting ready to exploit the new sensation right?” he suggested, and Anson nodded. - “You can trust Harlan for that. He’s got the valley wire subsidized, and he Is waiting for the first man to come in with the news of the sure

thing and the location of it. When he gets the facts he’ll touch off the fireworks, and the world will be invited to take a funning jump for the naw Tonopah.” Then, with sudden anxiety: “I wish to goodness Brouillard would turn up and get busy on his job. It’s something hideous to be stranded this way in the thick of a storm!” “It’s time somebody was getting busy,” snarled Handley. "There are a hundred tons of fresh concrete lying in the formes, just as they were dumped —with no puddlers—to say nothing of half as much freezing to solid rock right now in the mixers and on the telphers.” Grislow got up and reached for his coat and hat. “I’m going out to hunt for the boss," he said, “and you fellows had better do the same. If this is one of Cortwright’s flip-flaps, and Brouillard happened to be in the way, I wouldn’t put it beyond J. Wesley to work some kind of a disappearing racket on the human obstacle.” The suggestion was carried out Immediately by the three to whom it was

Frantically Panning on Every Bar In the River.

made, but for a reason of Tils own the hydrographer contrived to be the last to leave the mapping room. When he found himself alone he returned hastily to the desk and pulled out the drawer of portents, rummaging in it untii he was fully convinced that the little buckskin bag of nuggets was gone. Then, instead of following the others, he took a fieldglass from its case on the wall and went to the south window to focus it upon the Massingale cabin, standing out clear-cut and distinct in the afternoon sunlight on its high, shelflike bench. The powerful glass brought out two figures on the cabin porch, a woman and a man. The woman was standing and the man was sitting on the step. Grislow lowered the glass and slid the telescoping sun tubes home with a snap. "Good God!” he mused, “it’s unbelievable! He deliberately turns this thing loose on us down here and then takes an afternoon off to go and make love to a girl! He’s crazy; it’s the seven-year devil he talks about. And nobody can help him; nobody—unless Amy can. Lord, Lord!”

CHAPTER Xfl

Epochal

At the other extremity of the trajectory of Grislow’s telltale fieldglass Brouillard was sunning himself luxuriously on the porch step at the Massingale house and making up for lost time —counting all time lost when It spelled absence from the woman he loved. But Miss Massingale was in a charmingly frivolous frame of mind. “That is the fourth different excuse you have invented for cutting me out' visiting list, not counting the repetitions," she gibed, when he had finally fallen back upon the time demands of his work, to account for his late neglect of her. “If I wanted to be hateful I might insiift that you haven’t given the true reason yet.’*

“Perhaps I will give II before I go, m he parried. “But Just now I’d much rather talk about something else. Tell me about yourself. What have you been doing all these days when 1 haven’t been able to keep tab on you?" “Flirting—flirting desperately with Tig, with Mr. Anson and Mr, Grislow, and that nice boy of yours, Herbert Griffith, and with —no, not with Mr. Leshington; he scares me—makes a face like a wooden image and says-. ’Little girl, you need a mother —or a husband; I haven’t made up my mind which.’ When he does make up his mind I’m going to shriek and run away." r~ “And you flirt!" he protested reproachfully. “Now tell me about the ‘Little Susan;’ is the Bluegrass farm looming up comfortably on the eastern edge of things?” In a twinkling her frivolous mood vanished.

"Oh, we are prosperous, desperately prosperous. We have all the Improvements you can see and a lot that you can’t see. And our pay roll—it fairly frightens me when I make it up on the Saturdays.” “I see,” he nodded. “All going out and nothing coming in. But the money is all here, safely stacked up in the ore bins. You’ll get it all out when the railroad comes.” "That is another thing—a thing I haven’t dared tell father and Stevie. When I was in Mirapolis this morning I heard that the railroad wasn’t coming, after all; or, rather, Tig had heard it and he told me. We were digging for facts when you met us on Chigringo avenue—trying to find out if the rumor were true.” "It means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?” he s’aid evasively. “It means everything—a thousand times more now than it did before.”

His quick glance up into the suddenly sobered eyes of the girl standing on the step above him was a voiceless query and she answered it “We had no working capital, as I think you must have known. Once a month father or Stevie would make up a few pack-saddle loads of the richest ore and freight them over the mountains to Red Butte. That was how we got along. But when you sent me word by Tig that the railroad company had decided to build the extension, there was there was a chance. “Yes,” he encouraged.

“A chance that the day of little things *was past and the day of big things was come. Mr. Cortwright and some of his associates had been trying to buy an interest in the ‘Littlr Susan.’ Father let them in on some sort of a stock arrangement that I don’t understand and then made himself personally responsible for a dreadful lot of borrowed money.” “Borrowed of Mr. Cortwright?” queried Broulllard. . "No; of the bank. Neither Stevfs nor I knew about it until after it was done, and even then father wouldn’t explain. "He has been like a man out of his mind since Mr. Cortwright got hold of him —everything is rose-col-ored. But you see how it all depends upon the railroad."

“Not so much upon the railroad now as upon aome other things,” said Brouillard enigmatically. "You say your father has borrowed of the bank —is Mr. Cortwright mixed up in the loan in any way?” "Yes; he arranged it In some way for father —I don’t know Just how. All I know is that, father is responsible, and that if the railroad doesn’t come he will lose everything." Brouillard gave a low whistle. "I don’t wonder that the quitting rumor made you nervous. But I think I can lift one of your burdens. What you heard in town this morning is a fact: the railroad people have stopped work on the Buckskin extension. Don’t faint —they are going to begin again right away.” “Oh!” she gasped. "Are you sure? How can you be sure?" “I’ve given the order,” he said gravely, “an order they can’t disregard. Let’s go back a bit ahd I’ll explain. Do you remember my telling you thaf your had tried to bribe me to use my Influence with Mr. Ford?”

“As if I should ever be able to for* get it!” she protested. *‘Well, that wasn’t all That he did — he threatened to turn the valley into a placer camp, to disorganize our working force, even stop or definitely postpone the building of the dam.” She was listening eagerly, but there was a nameless fear in the steadfast eyes—a shadow which ,he either missed or disregarded* "And yeu—you believed this?” she asked fajntly. "I was compelled to believe it. He let me pan out the proof for myself.” "It is dreadful —dreadful!” she murmured. “You believed him, and for that reason you used your influence with Mr. Ford?”

He got up and took her in his arms, and she suffered,, him. “A few dayfc ago, little girl, I couldn’t have told' you. But now I can. lam a free man —or I can be whenever I choose to say the word. I did it for love’s sake." She was pushing him away, and the great horror in her eyes was unmistakable now. “Oh!” she panted, "is love a thing to be cheapened like that? And your freedom —how have you made a hundred thousand dollars In these few weeks? Oh, Victor, is it dean money?”

After what he hat don© In hi© efforts to please her, how will Brouiilard square himself with Amy for what she consider© his dishonorable ©et?

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

LAND of CURIOUS CUSTOMS

THE Fiji islanders are remarkable for many reasons, among others the fact that while they were cannibals 50 years ago and made it a practice to kill their captives and eat their flesh, now they are devout churchgoers. Having been Christianized, nominally at least, doubtless they are entitled to be called civilized also, but the fact remains that many of their old habits and customs are as strong as ever, although their general way of living has been completely changed and cannibal forks are no longer in use, writes Edward Farrington to Grit. These peculiar forks are still to be found, however, and it is whispered that modern reproductions are being made to sell to shuddering and unsuspicious tourists. They are made of wood, with round handles and long prongs. In the old days ordinary meat was eaten with the fingers, but there was a superstition that it was bad luck to touch human flesh with the hands after it had been roasted. The men of the Fiji islands take exceeding pride in their hair, which is allowed to grow very long and is usually "very thick. Although the enormous mops of hair worn by the warriors of cannibalistic days are no longer to be seen, being considered as a relic of heathenism, long hair is distinctly popular and it is regularly dipped in coral lime, which makes it as

white as though powdered for Several days, after which it takes on a shade varying from warm red to tawny yellow. There are two reasons for this custom; it is the fashion and it keeps the hair free from tiny creatures not to be mentioned in polite 1 society. Oil is also rubbed into the hair and when the bartering has been completed the heavy locks stick out from the head in all directions, looking like a great red or yellow aureole. How the Natives Dress. On ordinary occasions the Fijians of both sexes dress lightly, ©n certain ceremonial occasions, however, rolls of cloth many yards long are jvrapped around the body until walking is made difficult. Cloth obtained from the white people is made use of somewhat, but the natives make a durable cloth from the inner bark of trees, which is hammered thin and often dyed. Sometimes the only clothing consists of a fringe of leaves and the children wear nothing at all. The chief business of Fiji is sugar growing and there are thousands of acres in sugar plantations, but the work is under the supervision of white men and the actual labor is performed by coolies. It is difficult to get the Fijians to work hard or for more than a few days at a time. They live in a veyy simple fashion and have few wants. The houses are made of thatch, are rather high posted for the sake of coolness and contain a single room. There are no beds nor chairs, but great piles of mats on which the Fijians sit and sleep.

DRESSED FOR NATIONAL DANCE

More than one sailor whose ship has touched at Suva, the principal seaport of Fiji, has had a very peculiar experience, On going ashore he has quite naturally Indulged in the beverage of the islands, a drink called yangona and sometimes kava. When he has endeavored to return to his ship a little later, he has found to his immeasurable surprise that he has no command of his legs. His brain Is as clear as it ever was. He is in a mental condition to talk rationally on any subject, but he cannot walk. That is the way yangona acts. It is said that one Englishman was found after nightfall with his head buried in a thick shrub by the side of the road and lustily calling for help. He was perfectly conscious of his unpleasant predicament but was unable to move. Immense quantities of yangona are consumed by the natives. Few white people like the taste at first, but it is considered refreshing on a hot day and it is so pleasantly stimulating that many Europeans in Fiji drink it habitually. Making Yangona. Yangona is brewed on all festal occasions as a matter of course. A greatwooden bowl with four legs is used for the purpose. Usually it is beautifully polished from long usage and has a purple bloom like that of the grape, the yangona root, which comes from a plant growing freely all over the is-

GROVE OF TRAVELER' TREES

lands, is brought in when all is ready and publicly scraped and cleaned. Then it is cut into small pieceß and grated into the great bowl. In olden times it was customary to have the root prepared by chewing rather than by grating. Several youngs, men or pretty girls were given pieces of the root and bidden chew them until large, lumps of white fiber had been obtained. The operation required some time and the chewers frequently washed out ■their mouths with fresh water. It is contended even yet by many people in Fiji that yangona prepared by the chewing process is much preferable to that obtained by grating, so far as the flavor is concerned. The second process is adding the water, which is poured over the roots in the bowl, after which it is Wrung out through a piece of hybiscus fiber, which is like fine netting. The yellowish fluid which is thus produced tastes like rhubarb and magnesia. In spite of the fact that they follow the practices of the Christian church, some being Methodists, some Adventists and some Catholics, many of the old-time rites are still persisted in. Perhaps the most interesting aB well as the most remarkable is that found on the island of Beqa, one of the Fiji . group, where the natives walk barefooted on stones so hot that they glow. Although the statement was long questioned, the fact has been established that there is iio Jugglery about this rite, although nobody can explain why the feet of the flrewalkers, as they called, are not terribly burned.