Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 160, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 July 1916 — Page 3

The Red Mirage

A Story of the French Legion in Algiers

SYNOPSIS. * — 2— When Sylvia Omney, a beautiful English girl, returns from a search in Algiers for her missing brother, her lover, Richard Farquhar, finds she has fallen in love with Captain Arnaud of the Foreign Legion.

Do you belong to that class of persons who believe that gambling debts should be paid before all others? Does your creed of honor prescribe the payment of a bar debt even if the grocer and the dry goods merchant must go unpaid and your family go without some necessities? There are such creeds of personal honor.

CHAPTER 11. The Fourth Floor Back. Capt Robert Sower bad never been called a drawing-room soldier, and this In spite of the fact that he had many detractors. When he was In town he kept open bouse, and It became gradually a custom to such of his comrades as were In the vicinity to congregate In the luxuriously appointed smoking room, smoke bis cigars and drink his wine. On the evening when Capt. Desire Arnaud entered the softly lighted apartment four men were seated round the card-table smoking and chatting, apparently taking their game none too seriously. Sower himself stood by the log fire warming his hands and exchanging desultory remarks with a man whom the Indefinable something stamped as a civilian. As Arnaud’s name was announced Sower turned round and advanced with hospitably extended hand. “My good fellow, delighted to see you. I was half afraid the fog had swallowed you up. Let me get the introductions over. Preston, Hardy, St. Clair, Benson—all of my regiment— Captain Arnaud of the French army.” By wbat appeared to be a slip he passed over the elderly man by the fireside, and the latter made no move to repair the omission. Arnaud glanced at him curiously, and then came over to the fire. Sower laughed and shrugged his shoulders; and then, as though dismissing the subject, “You’re late. Where have you come from?” “From the Omneys. Miss Omney is very charming—” he said. “And wealthy. Am I to congratulate?” ' Arnaud put his hand to his little fair mustache, but he did not answer directly, though his smile might have counted as an answer. “I have Just met a comrade of yours,” he remarked Instead, “a someV

”I Say, This Is a Damned Gambling Hell."

•what unusual character for an Eng-lishman—-hot-heade<J, with admirable nerve —Richard Farquhar, if you know him.” The man by the fireside shifted his position and glanced up. By mere chance Sower was looking in his direction, and their eyes met for an Instant. “Lieutenant in my regiment,” Sower answered quietly. “Quite promising; •erred out in South Africa.” “Ah!” Amaud’s restless eyes had wandered from the fire to the distant card-table, where the four younger men were now playing with a listless interest “Well, I do not suppose we shall often meet He and Miss Om» ney are great friends, is it not so?” Sower pushed the cigar box along tine mantelpiece. “Help yourself. No. I should not call V. •: ' » '• ;

By I. A. R. WYLIE

(All right* reserved. The Bobbs-Merrill Co.)

them great friends. Miss 6mney’s brother was a kind of David to Farquhar’s Jonathan —” “And It was David who mistook the broad path for the narrow?” “Exactly. There was a scandal, of course, a dishonored check and a bolt. Gambling, I believe. Old Charles Omney has the reputation of a hard man. Like most hard articles he has broken up under the first blow.” Arnaud was silent a moment, his delicate, nervous face overclouded with some unpleasant reflection. He was still watching the players, and his cigar had been allowed to go out. The man in the armchair lifted his head. “Gambling always seems to me the last, resort of daring minds from the deadly security of modern life,” he obseKwed sententiously. He spoke for the first time, and Arnaud glanced at him quickly and almost with appreciation. “You may be right. One has the feeling sometimes of stifling.” He laughed cynically, and the older man rose. It'was noticeable for the first time that he limped. “All Frenchmen gamble,” he said, “either with their lives, other people’s lives, their honor, or somebody else’s honor. Will you not take a hand?” Arnaud hesitated with something of his first frigidity of manner, but there were nervous, feverish patches of color in his pale face. “I beg yo.ur pardon—l did not catch your name?” he said coldly. “Lowe —Stephen Lowe, at your service.” Arnaud returned the formal little bow. “I shall be delighted.” They turned toward the table. Sower laughed significantly. “Be careful, Arnaud; remember the adage ‘Lucky in love —’ ” It was at that moment that the door opened and Farquhar entered. For no obvious reason his appearance caused a moment’s awkward silence. He had, in fact, the look of a man who has been drinking hard,” but has somehow managed to retain a dangerous selfpossession. There was no trace of hesitancy in his manner as he answered Sower’s belated welcome, but instead a not easily defined shade of Insolence. Sower appeared to notice nothing. “Help yourself,” he said hospitably, “and sit down. You look queer. Anything wrong?” Farquhar made no answer. He sank down into the proffered chair, and, having poured out half a tumbler of brandy from the decanter at his elbow, stared moodily Into the firelight. Sower watched him cautiously. “You look ill, Farquhar,” he repeated after a moment. “Can I do anything for you?” Farquhar looked up. “Ever been drunk?” he asked abruptly. “No. I’Ve never been tempted that way. Have you?” “Not yet. I’m thinking of trying it.” He threw back his head with a laugh. Sower tossed his cigar end into the fender. “I shouldn’t if I were you,” he said coolly. “We have inspection tomorrow afternoon.” Farquhar returned to his fixed contemplation of the firelight. During the hour that passed he did not move, except to replenish the glass beside him. Then Preston suddenly left the card-table, went over to the fireside and stood there with his back turned, his head bent. He did not notice Farquhar, who looked up as though raised from his deliberate lethargy by some painful sound. The boy’s round, unformed face was wet. “Hul lo —Preston!” He started violently. “Oh, you, Farquhar—l didn’t know you were there. For God’s sake don’t look at me—l’m a fool —but I’m cleaned out. Two hundred pounds at a sitting—alKmy allowance —” He broke off. Farquhar shifted his position so that he faced the card-table. His eyes were dangerous. “I say, this is a damned gambling hell,” he said clearly. “Did you speak, Farquhar?” Sower asked quietly. Farquhar did not move. “Yes, I said this was a damned gambling hell. I may add that you are a damned scoundrel. Ask your friend there to return his I. O. U.’s on the spot, or I promise you we two shall be explaining matters at headquarters tomorrow morning. You know what that means, I fancy.” There was no answer for a minute. All five men looked instinctively at Sower, waiting for his next move. The cloud of the gaming passion had lifted, leaving a rank, bitter-tasting reality. Sower recovered his calm goodnature with unaffected ease. “Farquhar, you are undoubtedly the worse for my brandy,” he observed. “Lowe, I should be glad If you would return Mr. Preston’s note of hand. I shall settle with you myself for your loss. I trust that Farquhar will see fit

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

to apologise if not now, at least when he is uffldently recovered." Richard Farquhar rose leisurely to his feet. There was no trace of unsteadiness in his steps as he crossed the roefm, but it was obvious that Sower had not overstated his condition. “I do not suppose that even when I have recovered I shall see things differently,” he said, turning his white, ironically smiling face for a moment to the motionless group. "Come along, Preston.” Farquhar had not far to go, a bystreet bringing him to a quiet, unpretentious house which his instinct recognized. Inside all was Inky obscurity. He stumbled against the first step of the stairs, touched something that was warm and living, and in the recoil struck his bead against a treacherous overhanging shelf. “I beg somebody’s pardon,” a quiet voice said through the subsequent silence. “I’m afraid I’ve killed somebody.” Then the light was switched on. Farquhar saw before him a small person, dowdily dressed, with a small, thin face under a small hat. He took his hand from his head and considered it “No very serious damages, I fear. Give me an arm up to my room, will you?” She obeyed Instantly and with some adroitness. “It’s that ridiculous hatrack,” she said. “It blocks up the whole hall. I have often spoken to Mrs. Ferrier about it” “You —” He stopped short withdrawing his arm and leaning against the banisters. “I thought—really I

“I Am a Cur,” He Said Under His Breath.

must be far gone—l you were Mrs. Ferrier.” “Ob, no; I rather wish I was. I’m the fourth floor back.” “Well, I don’t know who the fourth floor back is exactly, but I know I have taken an unwarrantable liberty—” “Don’t Yon are not in a condition to offer resistance. This your room, isn’t it?” She pushed open a door on the first floor and turned on the light He looked at her in weary, half-amused perplexity. “I can’t allow this sort of thing. It’s not right that a young lady—” “I’m not a lady—at least not by circumstance. Anyhow, I don’t care. You are ill. Sit down.” He obeyed, tossing his coat and hat onto the nearest %hair, and sat listlessly with his head in his hands. From a long way off he heard her soft rapid movements. /They were curiously soothing, and presently he looked up a&ain, urged by an idle wonder. But apparently she had forgotten his existence. Hatless, with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, she knelt before the fire, engaged In a quiet but determined struggle with a rusty and refractory kettle. Presently she got up from he* knees. “In two minutes you will have yous tea,” she announced in the ruthless tones of a professional nurse. “How is your head now?” “Better—” For the first ttme Bhe turned and looked him full in the face, and he broke off blankly. Either she was young, or she had conserved In those two clear, steady eyes all that is youthful and all that Is splendid in youth. She was smiling, and Inexplicably her frank pleasure seemed to goad him out of his heavy indifference. “I am a cur,”' he said under his breath. “Oh, no, you’re not a cnr. You are drank. It’s not a nice word, bat I’m afraid I’m too busy to think out pretty waya of expressing myself. There’s your tea.” She placed the cup fearlessly at his elbow. “Please drink it at once.” He obeyed. _

Don’t you just love a game little girl that Isn’t afraid of appearances and rules of conduct when she knows she’s helping a fellow creature In trouble? Wouldn’t It be a fine piece of business if Farquhar had the gumption to cast aside family pride and marry a really sens! bis girl? /. t ; .

(to be coNTnrumu

YOUNGSTERS WILL NOT DISPLACE SCHULTE

FRANK SCHULTE

The general Impression seems to be that ball players have outlived their usefulness when they pass the age of thirty. This, of course, is disproved by the baseball Hans Wagner has been playing for the Pirates this year and for the past 12 years. Frank Schulte of the Cubs also denies that a player’s ability begins to deteriorate when he passes the age of thirty, and is proving it by the game he has been playing this year. There are others of the same opinion. Gawy Cravath of the Phillies says a man should play satisfactorily until he is forty, if he takes care of himself. Last season and the year before Schulte did not play the brand of ball Cub fans liked to see. He appeared more indifferent than ever, and the impression circulated that he was sliding, writes Oscar C. Reichow in Chicago Daily News. It was doubtful whether he would be one of the regulars on Manager Tinker’s team. ThA fans, when they formed this opinion, did not know that Schulte was dissatisfied with his managers and the environment and that he did not care a great deal whether school kept or not. Still, he played as well as the average outfielder and closed the season of 1915 with 12 homeruns to his credit Manager Tinker was somewhat disturbed over Schulte when President Weeghman took over the Cubs and made inquiries in various quarters to learn whether the veteran outfielder still retained any of his skill or ability to hit. Tinker had his doubts and was Inclined to favor the younger players. Besides he was not certain whether Frank would have the proper spirit to make a winning combination. At

DIAMOND NOTES

George Sisler was born in Akron, Ohio, and he is not a flat tire, either. * * * “Ivy" Wingo has struck his hitting stride, and ought to be a big help to the Reds. “Joe” Judge, the Washington first baseman, seems at last to have hit his stride. • * * Dell, Pfeffer and Smith have to date shown the best pitching form for Brooklyn. * * * Barney, the Pittsburgh outfielder, was once a United States sailor. Now he’s a Pirate. • • * High living will get an athlete. Bullet Joe Bush consumed a hot dog was on the sick list ten days. * * * Another Cy Young has passed out,. Evansville releasing the veteran pitcher, who could not get started this year. • • * Babe Adams is no longer a hero in Pittsburgh, because of the poor showing he has made, and there are clangors that he be disposed of by the club. * • * Manager Jimmy Callahan is quoted as complimenting Hans Wagner highly as a player. That’s interesting. Wonder what Hans thinks of Jimmy as a manager? Harry (Moose) McCormick, former pinch hitter for the Giants, manager of Chattanooga, steel salesman, etc., is now handling an Independent team •t Montclair, N. J. * - • * • Fritz Maisel’s brother has been canned by the Detroit club, which indicates Fritz’s brother didn’t get an even break when the baseball talent was distributed in the Maisel family.

HANS WAGNER

the opening of the season Leslie Mann was favored, but Schulte soon showed Tinker his mistake, and now is playing better than he has done for years. Cub fans were not slow in observing that he had not gone back any and that he really was playing better ball for Tinker than he did for Chance, Evers, O’Day or Bresnahan. Remarks have been frequent this spring concerning his hustling, the form he showed at the plate and the manner in which he covered the outfield scientifically with Cy Williams: The fans have cheered and encouraged him to drive out the long hits that made him popular on the West side for more than ten years. He has responded nobly. Schulte is surpassing all his former early averages and if he continues his present gait he will finish the season with the highest average he has ever made in the National league. Last year his batting figures for the first 26 games were only .228, the year before .169, and in 1913, .219. This and his present mark of .357 are conclusive proof that although more than 30 years old he is still good enough to be a regular and deserves to be on the Cub team. Cub fans are predicting that Schulte will have an excellent year in home-run-making this season. They believe the right-field wall at the Cub park will be of assistance to him. Also they contend that he is pulling the ball as strongly as he did In 1911, when ho led the National league with 21 home run swats to his credit. They are hoping that be surpasses that and the world's record of 25, held by Buck Freeman of Washington.

SCHALK IS LEADING CATCHER

Has Made Rapid Stride* to Front Rank Since Comiskey Secured Him From Milwaukee. Ray Schalk of the White Sox stands out as the leading catcher in the big show. Schalk has made rapid strides to the front rank since Comiskey took him out of the American Association.

Ray Schaik

He is able to catch all kinds of pitching, is a deadly thrower, and can hit the ball. Schang of the Athletic* comes next, in the opinion of many students of baseball.

Name Mispronounced.

Benny Kauff says his name is not pronounced that way at all. It is “Cows,” of the barnyard or dairy farm variety. Some people thought it could bq. pronounced to rhyme with laugh, and the news from Benny will be a disappointment to poets who wen framing up a few things on him. v■,\* • . • 1

TIGER WRECKING CREW

Harry Heilman Quits Editor's Desk to Join Detroits. Preferred Writing Sporting New* te Playing Baseball Until He Made Hit on Coast —Now Glad He Made the Change. Almost every red-blooded American kid would jump at the chance to join Detroit’s wrecking crew and rub elbows with Tyrua Raymond Cobb, yet one of the present members of the Bengal slugging combine had other ambitions until four years ago, writes Harold Johnson in Chicago Evening Post. Harry Heilman preferred the commonplace career of a sporting editor, and, what’s more, he had a paper of his own until one day after a sand-lot game In which he participated he spied his name in the headlines describing a ball game. Then he weakened. Harry was a member of the United Amateur Press association around San Francisco, made up of amateur editors whose papers are official organs of some sort of organization. He could see nothing greater in, all the world than his name on the sporting page as an author of an article. He ran his publication, called Par eifleo, in Frisco and played amateur ball. Then he was grabbed by the Coast league, and when be saw bis name in big type in the papers hs de-

Harry Heilman.

cided it was better than for him to put someone else’s name where he now was appearing. So he dropped his first ambition and decided to stick to the national pastime. Heilman was drafted by Detroit, later returned to Frisco and was recalled this spring. His work has been a feature of the Tiger playing, and the wrecking crew now consists of Cobh, Crawtord, Veach, and Heilman.

OUTFIELDER FUCK TO STAR

Combines Desired Slugging Faculty With the Willie Keelef Style of Hitting Bunts. One Chicago critic is of the belief that Max Flack, Cub outfielder, late of the Chifeds, will outshine Kauff. Flack, it appears, combines the desired slug-

Max Flack.

ging faculty with the Willie Keeler style of hitting. He may rattle the boards in one bat effort, then, with the opposition set for another slam, he is likely to drop a sap along the base lines and race ahead of the ball to first base. His booster says he can run exceptionally fast, field a la Carey, bat .300 and throw with the best.

Advocate of Clean Sport.

Manager Donovan of the New Yorks is an advocate of clean sport. As a player, he behaved himself op the diamond and as a manager he believes in gentlemanly conduct. The New Yorks, therefore, will not be permitted to browbeat umpires or to indulge in quarrels with their opponents. Donovan wants to win fairly and squarely or not at alb Us