Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 199, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 August 1916 — Page 2

The RED MIRAGE

by I. A. R. WYLIE

TWt MATIVS >OKM. I BIVtUHO VATIU.

CHAPTER XXI. Atonement. “Mrs. Farquhar, do you hear me—do you understand?” The wide blue eyes flickered an instant; It was her only response. She lay stretched out, white and still on the great bed—a pathetic figure in which age and childhood's frailty had joined in the completed circle of life. Her hands lay on the counterpane. They were still loaded with rings, and the heavy, glistening stones seemed to have drawn in all the vitality from the dead and helpless fingers. For the first time her wig sat straight, and by contrast the face beneath looked smaller, wizened and shriveled like a little old witch who, somehow or other, had retained a grotesque fascination. Only the eyes were terrible. Save for that one scarcely perceptible flicker of assent they never closed or wavered, yet the change in them was ceaseless. They passed from face to face with a concentrated intensity that was savage in its dumb significance. They became then pitiable in their appeal or frantic in their fierce impatience. Preston, standing beside her, took one of the helpless hands and pressed it shyly. “You understand, Mrs. Farquhar? I’ve been something worse than a blackguard—l’ve been a fool. But now I’m going back to make good. You trust me now, don’t you? You believe me—l’d lay down my life to have Richard back. You know tfiat? I won’t touch my native shore till I’ve made things right.” It was scarcely a smile that shadowed the blue eyes. Then suddenly they closed, and the last sign of lite was snuffed out like the light of a candle. Preston looked up. Gabrielle stood at the foot of the bed and she beckoned him, and they went out together in the adjoining room. Preston closed the door. His boy’s face, contrasting curiously with the upright, powerful figure, had lost its hopefulness and had become haggard and overcast. “My God, and to think that I was Instrumental in that!” he said hoarsely. “I—l feel as though I had murdered someone; it’s pitiable—terrible. I shall see those eyes to my life’s end. Miss Smith.”

She nodded from the window where she stood looking out on to the street bathed in the mellow glow of evening. “It is awful to watch the struggle,” she said half to herself. “She is trying to tell us something, and I cannot read the message. Her eyes are full of it — I feel that I am blind and stupid not to understand —but I only know that it Is vital, that it may mean life or death.” “Death?” he echoed blankly. “After what you saw that night, don’t you realize that death is not far off?" He thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “I won’t believe it,” he said decisively. “They dare not.” “Is there anything that dare not be done to a legionary ?” “He is an Englishman. If—if they dared I should make it an international question—l should rouse all England—”

“Would you succeed in getting a letter Into the Times, do you think, Mr. Preston?" He drew his hands out of hls pockets and swung round angrily on her. She was smiling a wry amusement “Miss Smith —can you afford to laugh?” “Yes —a little. I suppose you think me heartless As a matter of fact, we laugh most easily when —” She stopped short with a gesture of impatience. “Forgive me, I have a tendency to be trite, and at that moment I was perilously near pathos as well.” “I know whit you mean, though. I didn’t think you heartless. But you can’t feel as I do. You haven’t all this on your conscience—you weren’t hls friend, as I was.” He caught a glimpse of her face clean cut against the light, and suddenly he faltered and the slow color mounted to hls eyes. “I—l understand. You’re rather splendid, Miss Smith. If I could only set tilings right—make good!” he muttered. She made a little gesture of assent “That MBema to me all that we live

for,” she said thoughtfully, “to make good—either (toothers or to ourselves. Only—it isn’t often granted us.” He had the feeling that she was not speaking to him, that for the moment he had passed out of her range of vision, and he remained silent. Someone tapped at the door, and instantly their eyes met in mutual interrogation. “A gentleman to see you, mademoiselle." She passed into the little adjoining sitting room and closed the door quietly behind her. So quiet Indeed had been her entry that the man hunched together by the window did not appear to notice her. His face was turned to the full light as though in deliberate defiance of its own harshly revealed suffering and misery. “Stephen!” He started and tried to rise, but she came toward him with an authoritative movement. “No, don’t get up. Sit there. You 100k —tired — ill.” “Yes, I am ill,” he admitted. He dropped back with a short stifled sigh. “If I had not been ill I should not have come. It is my only excuse.” He looked at her almost wistfully. “Stephen!” He looked her steadily in the pitying, sorrowful eyes. “I have not come for sympathy, Gabrielle. I am glad it’s over and done with. With one thing I should be content —”

“What do you ask of me?” “To accept my name and that which tne French state will give my wife in payment for the services I have done her. It is all I have to give, Gabrielle. Accept it —no, don’t shrink from me like that. lam a dying man—remember that. I ask nothing, for myself but i a poor formality; it may be a few days —a few weeks at most, and then —and you will be free.” “I am free now,” she answered ; swiftly. “But if I yielded to you I should never be free again. I loved you and I accepted dishonor for your sake. I ceased to love you and regained my honor the same hour I refused your name. That was my atonement to myself. To accept your offer would be to wrong myself—and you—too deeply.”-' « He made a movement of desperate appeal. But she did not answer him. The door had opened and Preston, with white stern face, stood on the threshold. “Corporal Goetz is here,” he said. “Miss Smith—will you come?” And Lowe saw how she turned from him, not with indifference, but with

"Goetz,” You Fool, Do You Think I Would Do It? It’s Useless.”

the absolute oblivion of a mind whose whole force has swept suddenly in one deep channel. He followed her to the open door and stood there, silent and forgotten, watching her. Corporal Goetz bowed as she entered. He looked at her narrowly, a little curiously. “I heard your name,” he said in bis careful French. “I have a message for you—from my comrade.” “From Richard Farquhar?” “I know him as Richard Nameless. He gave me the message out there in the desert —a simple sentence that I have retained word for word. ‘Tell her,’ he said ‘that truth was more beautiful than the mirage.”’ There was a brief silence. She stood in the full red glow of the evening as it poured in through the window, and Stephen saw her face. It seemed to him inspired, almost beautiful—a miracle of a great happiness. “And the sentence?” It was Prestonwho spoke, and for all his selfrestraint his voice had lost its steadiness. “To be shot at daybreak.” “It is impossible—absurd—” Preston muttered. She turned to him then as though waking from a dream. The brief moment of serene triumphant happiness had passed. She was face to face with life again, and the strength and beauty were alight with the old fiery resolution.

“It is Impossible,” she said. “But we have one hope before all others. Madame Arnaud has influence, and she has given me ter word to use it.” “Madame Arnaud is dead.” They stared at Goetfc in stricken horrified silence, and he added grimly: “She was murdered by a Jewish flowerseller this afternoon. It was Colonel Destinn who found her. There is no hope from that quarter.” “Then there are other means,” Preston said. “Corporal, I’ll stop at nothing to free him. I’m a rich man. You understand?”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

The German looked up at him with a faintly arrogan. amusement. Gabrielle turned suddenly from the ’ ndow. Her eyes flashed into the legionary’s face. “Perhaps I understand,” she said quietly. “You too are Richard Farquhar’s friend —you will help me?” In that single impulsive appeal for herself, and for herself alone, she had revealed all that Lowe had waited for. He left his place at the door of the inner room. Throughout that brief interview he had watched her steadfastly. When he spoke his voice sounded subdued and yet firm, like that of a man, already weary to exhaustion, who hoards all his remaining force for a last purpose. “And if I had help to offer would you accept it now, Gabrielle?” “Thankfully, Stepheri.” “Richard Farquhar’s life Is safe,” he said simply. “Even Colonel Destinn will not murder his own son.” “It is useless.” “Useless? What do you mean?” “This much”—the legionary’s features w’ere shadowed with a faint irony—-“that your Information, wonderful as It is, has come too late. Colonel Destinn rode out of Sldi-bel-Abbes three hours ago. His destination is unknown, and when he returns it may be that the sun will have already risen.” Stephen Lowe turned slowly. First and last he saw the face of a woman. He read there only an infinite compassion.

CHAPTER XXII. ■ •■s ■ Toward Dawn. In the condemned cell Richard Farquhar stood with his back against the wall, his arms folded, watching the yellow streak of light that filtered through the narrow barred window and fell slantwise across the darkness to the iron door opposite. He knew that the light came from an overhanging lantern outside, and that beneath a sentry with fixed bayonet kept guard. Footsteps sounded on the passage. The light still burned steadily. Morning was not yet come. Nor could he hear voices or the familiar clash of bayonets. The footsteps were swift, stealthy. The jarring turn of the key in the lock sounded subdued, as though the strength of the will behind it had hushed sound itself. Farquhar faced about firmly. If this were death, then it came under a strange guise. The door swung open. For an Instant the light from the window spread out and mingled with the dingy reflection from the passage, then narrowed once more, leaving the darkness on either hand the more impenetrable; “Nameless! Take these clothes. Change instantly—” “Who are you?” “I will introduce myself later on. Do as I tell you.” A shadow moved and came out into the line of light. Farquhar caught a glimpse of the gaunt hard-lined face frozen now into Impassive resolution. He tossed the bundle of clothes back on to the floor. “Goetz, you fool, do you think I would do it? It’s useless. I’m not going to have you shot in my stead.” “Pig-headed Englishman, do you think I should ask you to do anything so sensible? Get into these clothes if you don’t want to be strangled? Name of heaven, Don Quixote, may not it occur to Sancho Panza to accompany you on your little expedition into freedom?” “The thing is impossible—” But even in the half-light he had caught the blaze in the usually cold and arrogant eyes. It fired his blood. It was like a blast of northern wind in the fetid closeness.

“It is not impossible. Your friends are here—your mother. There are horses waiting for us both outside the fortifications. Tomorrow we shall be in Oron. God, man—ls you had seen her face when 1 gave your message! Will you let that little woman break her heart over you?” Farquhar tore off his tunic. “Who has the watch?” “Bertrand. He went over to the canteen five minutes ago. As I know, he will not be back yet a while. At the worst we have three minutes to spare.” “Give me that coat!” Neither man had raised his voice above a whisper. Goetz’s laugh was inaudible. “Ab, das ewlg weibllche! Are you ready ?” “Yes.” “Then come.” The iron door swung back' smoothly. In the neighboring cell there was a sudden hush; as though warned by some instinct the rough voices died down into a dull murmur, through which the two listeners heard other sounds —a harsh command, heavy approaching footsteps. Goetz closed the dobr. He set his back against it, and in the pale light falling aslant his face Farquhar saw that he was smiling savagely. “I demand a hundred pardonA I miscalculated. Our friend Bertrand has deserted the bottle a minute too soon. It is scarcely credible. No doubt he Intends to pay you a farewell call. In which case accept my profuse apologies. Nameless.” “Who goes with Bertrand on the round?” Farquhar asked almost with indifference. “Harding. He knows. He will do all he can. Be- quiet now —they are in the next cell.” The drunken shouts subsided suddenly into a cowed sullen silence. They heard the sergeant’s savage .abuse, the jangle of keys, the clang of an iron door slammed violently to. Instantly the chorus broke out afresh. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

ITALIANS CHECK AUSTRIAN DRIVE

Count Cadorna’s Victory Is Being Compared to Battle of Marne. FOUGHT FOR FORTY DAYS Italians Fight With Backs to Long Line of Precipices Over Which Onslaughts of Enemy Threatened to Hurl Them. By A. BEAUMONT. Milan. Count Cadorna’s great victory, when he checked the Austrian drive from the Trentino and threw the foe back headlong, to the Battle of the Marne. I have just learned new details of this action.

The defending army at the moment the drive began, I am assured, amounted hardly to two divisions (40,000 to 60,000 men). They had to hold the enemy in check until a powerful army of offense could be concentrated at their back. The ground thus heroically contested was a tortuous line of Alpine peaks, the chief of which, after the famous Monte Pasubio, were the summits of Forni, Alti, Monte Alba, Monte Novegna, Monte Pau, Monte Magnaboschi, Cima Echar and Monte Lisser. —— Fought Furiously.

A young officer, who was at Monte Lisser only a few days ago, gave me a graphic account of these positions. The retreating battle had been fought furiously, almost night and day, for 40 days. The enemy was already gaining glimpses over the mountain passes of the smiling plains of Vicenza below. The Italian soldiers were fighting with their backs to a long line of precipices, over which the furious and incessant onslaught of the desperate enemy, whose numbers seemed Inexhaustible, threatened to hurl them. Suddenly there came a feeling of relief. Sledge-hammer blows were being dealt to the Austrians on the extreme right and left wings. The enemy’s attack in the center instantly became less resolute, and the Italian troops, who had hitherto been retreating, found to their joy that they were backed by huge lines of impregnable defenses, prepared during those 40 days, and masses of troops and artillery were eager to come forward and take the places of the brave men who had so long defended the danger-line. Hours passed In eager expectation. The last scene in the preparation was the arrival of the guns. They were towed up the mule paths; dragged up by sheer work of hand to ’seemingly inaccessible summits. Ammunition trains stood thickly behind, waiting to unload.

Swarm Up Mountain. Thousands upon thousands of troops were swarming up the mountain slopes. New roads sprang into existence where none had been before. Batteries made their appearance where only eagles had built their nests, and the last desperate skirmish on Monte Lemerle and Magnoboschi had scarcely subsided when hundreds of Italian guns opened fire with an Infernal chorus.

Shells flew thick and heavy from the lines between Monte Pau and Monte Stremel, across the valley of Asiago, and word came that the Austrians were yielding and falling back. The Italian infantry Immediately took up the pursuit. They rushed down the / m<Aniain slopes, raising their war and occupied Cesuma and Gallio. Thence they spread along the roads of the entire valley, re-entered Asiago, and continued the pursuit of the enemy on Monte Longara, to the north, and Monte Cengio, to the south. And everywhere the Austrians were found in full retreat, or offering only a week resistance. The enemy has set Are to the little mountain villages and hamlets, and is falling back upon the immediate defenses of Rovereto. Thus the first fugitives of the defeated army are returning to this town, whence they had set out 40 days ago on their “punitive expedition,” with the punishment turning against themselves.

BOYS PUMP THE WELL DRY

Wanted to See a Water Wheel Work and Left Their Play—Clever Work of Citizen. Brazil, Ind. —Finding that surface water running into his well had made the water impure, a citizen of Brazil started to pump his well dry. After pumping half an hour in the hot sun, he gave up the job. Then he made a miniature water wheel, which he attached to the end of a trough. After he had attracted the attention of several boys who were playing on a vacant lot, he went to his work. When he returned in the evening, the boys had pumped the well dry, to see the wheel go round.

Baby Fell in Hole and Starved.

St. Joseph. Mo.—The body of Lorine Tye, an elghteen-months-old child, who wandered away from her parents, was found by* searchers in a hole tn an abandoned brickyard. The baby had been dead about 48 hours. Indications were that she had starved to death.

HERO OF POZIERES

Gen. Sir William R. Birdwood, commander of the Australian troops who captured Pozieres from the Germans after desperate fighting.

695-POUND TUNA CAPTURED

Monster Taken in Net Seven Mlles Off Block Island—Much Larger Than California's. Newport, R. I.—Few people realize that the coast adjacent to Rhode Island boasts fish larger than those off the shores of California. Such is the case, however, and Capt. Hugh L. Willoughby, who has just .returned from a trip to Block island in his motorboat Sea Otter, tells a reporter that he weighed a monster tuna fish which tipped the scales at 695 pounds. “Yes,” said Captain Willoughby, “we have an affidavit as to the weight. California’s tuna fish never exceed 300 pounds." The big fish was caught in a fisherman’s net about seven miles southeast of Block island and had to be speared before being prepared for shipment to New York. Meanwhile the fisherman is trying to figure out whether the price of the monster will pay to repair his nets, which were torn to shreds in the death struggle. “As regards sharks,” said Captain Willoughby, “I believe that there never were any two varieties, such as common and man-eating sharks. “The menhaden fishing industry has cleaned the waters of the food for the sharks and they are hungry. Any shark will eat human beings in this state.”

THIS OLD WOMAN MAKES HAY

Although Eighty-Four Years-Old Mrs. Nellie France Can Mow and Has a Fine Garden. Cookeville, Tenn. Mrs. Nellie France, aged eighty-four, who lives near Beaver Hill, mowed hay last week. “Aunt Nellie” enjoys remarkably good health. She has a splendid garden which she has made herself, doing all of the hoeing. While her hay was being mowed she went to the hay field and asked permission to drive the mower, which was being pulled by two large mules. Her request being granted, she made several rounds in the large hay field. She did the work with steady nerve and insisted upon driving longer, but the overseer, fearing that rhe would overexert herself, prevailed upon her not to do so. The day following, however, she donned her sunbonnet and went back to the hay field and raked all day. She frequently rides horseback from her home to Monterey, a distance of eight miles.

MORE AIR IN GERMAN CARS

New Rules Permit Open Windows in > Coaches Under Certain Conditions. London. —“Anybody who has ever fought for fresh air in a German railway carriage,” writes a correspondent In the Daily Mail, “will be Interested to hear that, even amid the preoccupations of war, the authorities are making an effort to solve so weighty a problem. The Berliner Tageblatt learns that henceforth In a compartment separated from other compartments by a swinging door, windows may be opened only if all the passengers in the compartment consent. “In other compartments any one passenger has the right to demand the opening of a window. “These regulations are now printed on the window themselves, and it is hoped that the violent arguments which have hitherto resulted from at-, tempts to let fresh air into stifling 1 compartments will be less frequent.”

Gnats Cause Fire Alarm.

Janesville, Wls.—An alarm of the other evening brought two companies of the department to the First Congregational church. An excited individual “flagged” down the equipment and pointed to the steeple with ♦he information that the blaze was inside it Investigation showed a great dense swarm of gnats about the spire. This was the “smoke.”

FRANCE HAS NEW AIR DAREDEVIL

Former Cavalryman Performs Astonishing Feats of Valor With Aeroplane. IS MANY TIMES DECORATED Pronounced Permanently Disabled After Smash-Up, He Steals Machine and Goes Forth to New Deeds of Heroism. Paris. —Nungesser, the latest airman to be revealed to us as a prince among pilots, is'a great, big, heavy fellow, fat-faced and cumbersome of build.

He was a cavalryman in the Second Hussars when he started his career, and the war was not a month old before he distinguished himself. His squadron was cut off and surrounded in the retreat from Charleroi. The troop commander was lying helpless, badly wounded. Nungesser bore him to shelter. Getting a few straglers together, he ambushed a German staff motor car, killed its occupants, put his wqunded officer inside, and taking the wheel set off on a wild dash through the enemy’s lines. The car was a powerful Mors, and the way Nungesser let her all out and tore through the whole ranks of Germans earned for him the epithet of “Dash to Death.” ; Nungesser was Subsequently promoted quartermaster, awarded the military medal, and permanently appointed army chauffeur. Takes to Flying.

Nungesser later handed in his resignation and declared that unless he was put into the flying corps he would take his place in the trenches. He already had a pilot’s ticket, and after a week or two of training was passed as good for military aviation. Between April and August, 1915, he took part in 53 bombarding expeditions, three of which secured him fresh mentions in dispatches. Returning from the last, he espied a German Albatross over Nancy, went for it, despite the handicap of his heavy, slow machine, insufficiently armed for single combat, and shot down the Invader. This achievement brought him into prominence and he was promoted to the crack chasing corps. Before the end of the year he had been made chevalier of the Legion of Honor.

A side slip at Bue, however, when trying a new type of machine, almost cost him his life. He was picked up for dead, with a fractured skull, a broken jaw, nearly all his ribs broken, the muscles of the legs torn away. Nungesser refused to accept the doctor’s decision that he was permanently, disabled; he declined to take three months’ on convalescence, if he ever wanted to be of any use again—and almost stealing a machine, he soared aloft, and never came down until he had accounted for a German aeroplane. Given His Own Way.

After this he was allowed to have his own way. He could scarcely talk, owing to the necessity of binding up his jaw, his head was swathed in bandages, he had to be lifted in and out of his aeroplane, but he was a perfect demon once aloft. He then became a sub-lieutenant. This was at the end of March and the beginning of April last. On April 25 he engaged, single-handed,’, three Fokkers, brought down one and gave the others a severe mauling. A week later he was swooped down upon by a flotilla of six Fokkers. He had one down before they could get his range almost, and then sailed at full speed right into the midst of the others. They were unable to fire, for fear of hitting one another, whereas he pounded them hard until he had not a shot left, then by masterly airmanship, he showed them a clean pair of heels. They were in such a state that they did not dare follow him, which was lucky, for he had not gone a mile or two before his engine went all to pieces. J3even balls had gone through It, and only a couple of cylinders still had any go In them. *He had dropped to under 3,000 feet, and was limping lamely as he crawled back over the German trenches. The storm of shells missed him all the same and he made home safely. One shot had gone through his helmet and grazed the top of his,, head, another had carried away the heel of his slipper, 27 had struck the plane and done various kinds of damage without counting those in the engine.

RICH THRICE, DIES POOR

Philip Deidesheimer, Once Famous as Mining Engineer, Passes Away » in Poverty. San Francisco. —Philip Deidesheimer, eighty-four, a mining engineer once famous, died in poverty here. His invention of the “square set,” a system of underground timbering used in wide veins, made possible the development of the famous Ophir mine on the Comstock lode. Hls invention, according to mining engineers, is now used all over the world. Deidesheimer made and Jost three fortunes, He died in poverty, but hopeful to the last that hls mlninf ylaims would restore him to afflu ence.