Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 69, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 March 1919 — Page 2

THE RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE

(Oopgrrtffet, Little, Brows A Oo.)

_ ; CHAPTER XVll—Continued. —l2 Seabeck returned after a while, and Billy Lon 18e, who was watching from the doo-way. met him at the little gate, •a he was coming up to the house. •Well, how bad Is It, Mr. Seabeck?” the asked sharply, Just because she felt the Imperative need of facts —she who had struggled so long in the quicksands of suspicion and donbts and fears and suspense. “Hmmm-nim —how bad is It —In the house?" he countered. “The real crime fco been committed there, It seems to me. A few head of cattle, more or less, don't count for much against the broken heart of an old woman.” “Oh I" Billy Louise, her bands clenched upon the gate, stared np wide-eyed Into his face. And this was the real Seabeck, whom she had known Impersonally all her life! This was the real man of him, whom she had never known; a flawless diamond of a soul behind those bright blue eyes and that pointed, graying beard; poet, philoeopber. gentleman to the bone. “Oh 1 You saw that too 1 And they’re your cattle That were stolen l say^lt—oh, you’re—you’re —” ♦TTmm-mm —a human belrg, I hope, Miss MacDonald, as well as a mere cattleman." Marthy did not attempt to rise when Seabeck followed Billy Louise into the alttlng*room. She caught up her apfpcL and wiped her eyes. After that she faced Seabeck with harsh composure and waited for the settlement "Hmm-mm 1 I have been looking over the cattle," he began, sitting on the edge of a chair and turning his black hat absently round and round by the brim. “You —nun-ram —yon tell me there were seven head of grown stock —" “That they shot and throwed In the river, with the brands cut out.” Interpolated Marthy stolidly. “I heard ’em say that’s how they would git rid of 'em, an’ I heard ’em shootln’ down there." “Hmm-mm —yes I Do you know Just what—" “Five dry cows *n’ two steers —long two-year-olea, I Jedged ’em to be." Marthy was certainly prompt enough and explicit enough. And her lips were grim, and her faded blue eyes hard and steady upon the face of Seabeck. “Hmm-mm —yes I I find also,” he went on In his somewhat precise voice that bad earned him the nickname of "Deacon" among his punchers, “that there are more young stock vented and rebranded than I—er sold your nephew. Fourteen head, to be exact. With the cattle you tell me which were—mm-m—-disposed of last night, that would make twenty-one head of «tock for which—mm-mm —I take It you are willing to pay.” "I ain’t got the money now,” Marthy stated, too apathetic to be either defiant or placating. “Yon c’n fix up the papers t* suit yourself. Til sign anything yuh want" * “Hmm-mm —yes! A note covering the amount with legal rate of Interest will be—quite satisfactory, Mrs. Meilke. I shall make a lump sum at the going price for mixed stock. If you have a blank note, I—" •You kin look in that desk over there," permitted Marthy. “If yuh don’t find any there, there ain't none nowhere." '

Seabeek did not find any blank notes. He found an eloquent confusion of Jumbled letters and accounts and papers, and guessed that the owner had done Bome hasty sorting and straightening of his affairs. He sighed, and his blue eyes hardened for a minute. Then Billy Louise moved from the door and went over to kneel comfortingly beside Marthy. and Seabeek looked at the two and sighed again, though his eyes were no longer stern. He pulled a sheet of paper toward him and wrote steadily in a prim, upright chirography that had never a flourish anywhere, but carefully crossed t’s and carefully dotted I’s and punctuation marks of beautiful exactness. “You will pleace sign here, Mrs. Meilke," he saldcalmly, coming over to them with the sheet of paper laid amoothly upon a last-year’s best-seller and with Charlie’s fountain pen in his other hand. “And if Miss MacDonald will also sign, as an indorser, I think I can safely do away with any mortgage or other legal security.” BUly Louise stood up and gave him one 100k —which Seabeek did not appreciate, because he did not see it. “rd rather give a mortgage,” Marthy aaid uneasily, sitting up suddenly and looking from one to the other. “I don’t want Billy Louise to git tangled up in my troubles. She’s got plenty of her own. Her maw's Just died, Mr. Seabeek. And IT bet there was a hospital ’n’ doctor’s bill blgger’n this cattle note, to be paid. 1 don’t want to pile on—” “Now, Marthy, you be stilL Tm perfectly willing to sign this note with you. If It will satisfy Mr. Seabeek, rm sore it’s the very best we can door—expect." Billy Louise, bless her heart, was trying very hard to be grateful to Seabeek in spite of the slump , he had suffered In her estimation. “Well, HI want your written word thst yuh won’t prosy cute Charlie nor help nobody else prosycute him,” stipulated Marthy, with sudden shrewdness.

A tale of the wild outdoor life of pioneer days that called forth all the courage and resourcefulness of men and women inured to danger and hardship

“If m«-;n Billy Louise signs this note, we’ll pay it; and we want some per* tection from you, fer Charlie.” "Hramra-mm —I see !” He turned and went back to the littered desk and wrote carefully again upon another sheet of paper. “I think this will be quite satisfactory,” he said, and handed the paper to Marthy. - “Git my specs, Billy Louise —oft’n the shelf over there,” she said, and read the paper laboriously, her lips forming the letters of every word which contained more than one syllable. Marthy, remember, was a plainswoman born and bred. “I guess that’ll do,” she pronounced at last, pushing the spectacles up on her lined forehead. “You read it, Billy Louise, ’n’ see what yuh think.” “I think it’s all right, Marthy,” said Billy Louise, after she had read the document twice. “It’s a bill of sale; and It also wipes the slate clean of any possible— I think Mr. Seabeck is very c-clever.” Whereupon Marthy signed the note, with a spluttering of the abused pen in her stiffened old fingers and a great -twisting us her grim mouth as she formed the capitals. Then Billy Louise wrote her name with a fine, schoolgirl ease and a little curl on the end of the last d, Seabeck took the paper from the tips of Billy Louise’s supercilious fingers, returned jvith it to the desk for a blotter, hunted an envelope, folded the note carefully, and laid It away Inside. “I believe that is all, Mrs. Mellhe. I hope yotrwiU suffer no further nneaslness on account of your—nephew.” “I’m liable t’ suffer some giftin’ that five hundred dollars paid up,” Marthy returned with some acerbity “I’m much obleeged to yuh, Mr. Seabeck, fer bein’ so easy on us. If yuh hadn’t drug Billy Louise into it, I’d say yer too good to be human.” “Hmmm-nim —not at all,” Seabeck stammered deprecatingly and left the room with what haste his natural dig-' nity would permit. That ended the Seabeck part of the whole sordid affair, except that he remained for another hour, doing chores and making everything snug for the night. Also he filled the kitchen woodbox as high as he could pile the sticks and brought water to last overnight—since Charlie’s plan to pipe water into the cabin had remained a beautiful plan and nothing more. Billy Louise thanked Seabeck, when he was ready to go. “I know you were square, and you’re really big-souled, too. I’ll remember It always, Mr. Seabeck.” “Will you?” Seabeck looked down at her, with his hand upon the latch. “Even If you are put In a position where you must pay that note—you will still —Hm-mm! I see. Before I go, Miss MacDonald, I should like yonr permission to send a man down here to look after “No, you mustn’t.” Billy Louise spoke with prompt decision. “Marthy might think you were—you see, it wouldn’t do. I’ll see about getting a man. If you will take this note up and leave it In the mailbox for me, John, Pringle,will come up tomorrow. We’ll manage all right.” “You’re quite right. But, Miss Mae Donald, there is something else. I—er —should like to give you a little —wedding gift, since you honored me with the news of your approaching —mm-m —marriage. As an old neighbor, and one of your most sincere admirers, who would feel greatly honored by your friendship, I—should like to have yon accept this—” He held something out to Billy Louise and pulled open the door for instant escape. “Good night. Miss MacDonald. I think It will storm.” Then he was gone, hurrying down the narrow .path with long strides, his tall figure bent to the wind, his coat flapping around his lean legs. Billy Louise closed the door and her half-open mouth and let down her lifted eyelids. Standing with her back against the wall, she turned that something—an envelope—over twice, then tore off the end and palled ont the contents. It was the note she and Marthy had signed*no longer than an hour ago, and written large across the face of It were the words: “Paid, Samuel Seabeck.” “The —old —darling!” said Billy Louise under her brealh and went straight in to show it to Marthy.

CHAPTER XVIII. All Right and Comfy. THE next morning BUly Louise rode up the creek at a long lope, and she pulled up at the stable and slid Off Blue. She went straight to a corner of the hay corrdl and stopped with'her hands clutching the top wire. - . . . “Ward Warren, for heaven’s sake, what are you doing?" You.* couldn’t have told from her t<she that she had been crying, a mile back, from sheer anxiety, or that she “loved him to •pieces." She sounded as if she did not love him at all and was merely disgusted with his actions. ” to sink my loop on this buzzard-head of 7 a horse,” Ward retorted glumly. “I’ve been ttying for about an hour," he added, grinning a little at his own plight;

:/T * ' t • - • ■ . : u • , - * . r • THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INI>.

“Well, it's a lucky thing for you he won’t let you,” Billy Louise informed him sternly, stooping to crawl under the bottom wire. “You’ve got about as much sense a a —" She did not say what “Give me that rope, and you take yourself and year crutches out of the corral, Mr. Smarty. I just had a hunch you couldn’t be trusted to behave yourself.” ■ “Brave Buckaroo got lonesome,” Ward said, looking at her with eyes alight, as he hobbled slowly toward her. “You’ll have to open the gate for me, Wliriam. Rattler’ll make a break for the open If he sees a crack as wide as your little finger.” By then be was near enough to reach out an arm and pull her close to him. “Oh, William girl. Pm sure glad to see you once more. I got scared. I thought maybe I just dreamed you were here; so I tackled —” “You tackled more than you could handle. You ought to know you mustn’t ride Rattler, Ward. What if he’d pitch with you?” “In that case. I’d pile up, I reckon. Say William, a broken leg does take a deuce of a time to get well. But all the same, I’ll stop old Rattler, all right. I’d top anything rather than spend another night in that jail.” “You’ll ride Blue,” Billy Louise told him calmly. “I’m going to ride Rattler myself.” , “Yes, you are ■ not!" — “Do you mean to say I can’t? Do you think —” “Oh, I guess you can, all right, but —” “Well, if I can, I’m gping to. If you think I can’t handle a measly old skate like that —” “He’s been rnnnlng out for nearly two months, Wilhemlna —” “And look at his ribs! If you’ll just kindly go In the house while I saddle—” “I’ll kindly stay right here, ladygirl. You don’t know Rattler—” “And you don’t know Billy Louise MacDonald.” She wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to unsaddle

She Went Straight to the Hay Corral and Stopped.

Blue, “I really didn’t intend to go back right now,” she said, “but seeing you’ve got your heart 6et on it I suppose we might as well.” Then she added: “We’re only going as far as the Cove, anyway; and I really ought to hurry back tq look after Marthy. Charlie Fox and Peter pulled out and left her there all solitary alone. I’ve been staying with her overnight I told her we’d be down there, and stay till —further notice.” Billy Louise did not give Ward much opportunity for argument He was too awkward with his crutches to keep up with her, and she managed to be on the move most of the time. When she had helped Ward upon Blue —and that was not easy, either, considering that he only had one leg fit to stand on—and had gone to the cabin for her bag of nuggets and Ward’s roll of money which he had forgotten, and had exhausted every other excuse for delay, she picked up Rattler’s reins and wound her fingers In his mane, and took hold of the stirrup as nonchalantly as If she were mounting Blue. “Now we’re all right Snd comfy,” she announced breathlessly, when the first fight was over and Rattler, like his master, had yielded to the inevitable. “And we know who’s boss, 1 and we’re all of us squlndidously happy, because we’re headed for home. Aren’t we, buckaroo?” h ’ “I suppose so,” Ward, mumbled doubtingly, for a moment eyeing her sidelong. “And say. buckaroo!” Billy Louise reined close, so that she could, reach out and pinch his arm a little bit. “Soon as your leg is all well, and you’re every speck over the hookin’-cough, why—yon can be the boss 1" ■“Can I?" X , . . ■ / “Honest, you can. I’ve” —Billy Louise bad the grace to blush a little — “I’ve always thought Pd love to have somebody bully me and boss me' and

T>use me. And I —” Her Ups twitched a little. “I think you can qualify.” They came to the g?te, and Billy Louise freed her hand from his clasp and dismounted, since It was a wire gate and could not be opened on horseback. She closed It after him, looked to her cinch, tightened it a little, patted Rattler on the neck, caught the horn with one hand and the stirrup with the other, and went up quite like a man, while Ward watched her intently. “ ‘ln sooth, I know not why you are so sa-ad,’” murmured Billy Louise, when she swung alongside in the trail. Ward caught her hand again and did not let go; so they rode hand in band down the narrow valley. T was wondering—” he hesitated, drawing in a corner of his lip, biting It, and letting it go. “Wilhemina, If old Lady Fortune takes a notion to give me another kick or.two, just when ltferlooks so good to me—” “Why, we’ll kick back just as hard as she dees,” threatened Billy Louise courageously. “Don’t let happiness get on your nerves, Ward.” “If I wasn’t crippled, It wouldn’t. But when a man’s down and out, he — thinks a lot The last three days. I’ve lived a whole lifetime, lady-girl. Everything seems to be coming my way, all at once. And Pm afraid; what if I can’t make good? If I can’t make you happy-’ l —be squeezed her fingers so that Billy Louise had to grit her teeth to keep from Interrupting him —"or If anything should happen to you—Lord 1” "You’ve got nerves, buckaroo. You’ve been shut up there alone so long you see things all distorted. We’re going to be happy, because we’ll be together, and we’ve so much to do and so much to think of. You must realize, Ward, that we’ve got three places to take care of, and you and me and poor old Marthy. She hasn’t anybody, Ward, but us. And she’s changed so—got so old —just In the last few days. I never knew a person could change so much In such a little while.- She’s just let go all holds and kind of sagged down, mentally and physically. We’ll have to take care of her. Ward, as long as she lives. That’s why I’m taking you there —so we can look after her. She won’t leave the Cove. I—l was hoping," she added shyly, “that we could sit In front of our own fireplace. Ward, and nave nice cozy evenings; but —well, there always seems to be something for me to do for somebody, Ward." “Oh, you Wilhemlna 1” Ward slipped his arm around her, to the disgust of Rattler and Blue, and made shift to kiss her twice. “Long as you live, you’ll always be doing something for somebody; that’s the way you’re made. And nobody’s been doing things for you; but If the Lord lets me live, that*s going to be my Job from now on.” He said a great deal more, of course. They had nearly fifteen miles to go, and they rode at a walk; and a man and a maid can say a good deal at such a time. But I don’t think they would like to have It all repeated. Their thoughts ranged far back over the past and far into the future, and clung close to the miracle of love that had brought them together. There is one thing which Billy Louise, even In her most self-revealing mood, did not tell Ward, and that Is her doubts of him. Never once did he dream that she had suspected him and wrung her heart because of her suspicions—and in that I think she was wise and kind. They found Seabeck and Floyd Car*

CITY HAYING RAPID GROWTH

Norfolk Bids Fair to Break all Records at Her Present Rate of Progress. There Is not a city In this country, perhaps none In the world, that Is growing at a more rapid rate than Norfolk,” remarked G. W. Sizer, manager of one of the leading hotels of that city, at the Raleigh, the Washington Post states. “The last census gave the population of Norfolk at less than 70,000. Today it is estimated that Norfolk is a city of 140,000, or more than double the size it was In 1910. Washington prides Itself on the tremendous growth—attained la- the last two or three years, I take considerable pride in the growth of Washington, for I lived here many years, but the proportionate increase In the population of the national capital cannot compare with that of Norfolk. Of course, both cities are helped by war business. Washington, I presume, is the busiest City In the world, but Norfolk Is almost next. “Hampton Roads Is filled with ships. Battleships are passing in and out every hour, and soldiers and sailors are filling the streets, hotels and. residences of Norfolk. Only recently 1 saw some SUKX) soldiers from New Zealand parading through the streets of Norfolk. Many, of them were not young. New Zealand already has sent close to 150,000 men to the front in France, and Belgium, out of a population of 1,500.000, and is stin sending men, which should be an object lesson to us. 0 “Business is booming In Norfolk as never, before. The hotela are filled to

By B. M. BOWER

son and another cowboy at the Cove, jnst preparing to leav€. Marthy, it transpired, had sent for them because she wanted to make her will, so that Billy Louise would have the Cove when Marthy was done with it Billy Louise cried a little and argued a good deal, but-Marthy had not lost all her stubbornness, and the will stood unchanged. Billy Louise and Ward were married just as soon as Ward was able to make the trip to the county-seat which was just as soon as he could walk comfortably with a cane. They stayed the winter in the Cove, and a part of the spring. Then they buried grim, gray old Marthy up on the side hill near Jase, where she had asked them to lay her work-worn body when she was gone. They were very busy and very happy and pretty prosperous with their threfe ranches. They never heard of Charlie Fo£ again, or of Buck Olney—and they never wanted to. If you should some time ride through a certain portion of Idaho, you may find the tiny valley of the Wolverine and the decaying cabins which prove how impossible it is for a couple to live in three places at once. If you should be so fortunate as to meet Billy Louise, she might take you through the canon and point out to you her cave. It is possible that she might also show you the washout which always made her and Ward laugh when they passed it. And if you ride up over the hill and along the upland and down another bill, you cannot fall to find the entrance to the Cove; and perhaps you will like to ride down the gorge and see the little Eden hidden away there. And if you should meet them, give my regards to Billy Louise and Ward—who never calls himself a football these days. (THE END.)

Playing the Man.

No matter what part he may be playing in the strenuous game of life as it is presented today, the brotherhood man, above all others, must play the man. These are times when the best that ls“ iif tis must be given to “carry on,” and the race run with steadfastness and a manly purpose. As Robert L. Stevenson so beautifully puts it: “Whether we regard life as a line leading to a dead wall—a mere bag’s end, as the French say—or whether we think of it as a vestibule or gymnasium, where we wait our turn and prepare our facilities for some more noble destiny; whether we thunder in a pulpit or pule in little esthetic poetry books about its vanity and brevity, whether we look justly for years of health and vigor, or are about to mount into a bath chair, as a step towards the hearse; in each and all of these views and situations there is but one conclusion possible; that a man should stop his ears against paralysing terror and run the race that is set before him with a single mind.”

Canadian Honored.

At Balaklava, Canada was represented by Lieut. Alexander Dunn of Toronto, an officer of the Light Brigade. He was the first native of Canada to receive the Victoria Cross. At Waterloo Capt. Alexander McNab, the first Canadian to hold a commission In the British regular army, was among the heroic dead of that historic battlefield.

overflowing Just as they are in Washington. New business blocks are going up and the residence sections of the city are being extended far Into the outlying districts. I venture to say that in another decade Norfolk will come close to being the leading city in the Old Dominion, both in population and importance."

The First Romanoff.

Romanoff is the name of the Russian imperial dynasty regnant in the male line from 1613 to 1730, and thenceforward In the female line. Constant intermarriages with German princely houses, however, have made the Romanoff strain of today more German than Russian. Nay; the oldest ancestor of the house of Romanoff. Andrew Eobyla, Is said to have come to Moscow from Prussia (1341). The name Romanoff was given to the family by the boyar Roman Yurievitch, the fifth of direct descent from Andrew, who succeeded in getting a female member of his family on the throne of the czars by marrying his daughter to Ivan the Terrible. In February, 1613, Mikhael Feodorvitch Romanoff, a boy of seventeen, was proclaimed czar, grand duke and autocrat of all the Russias In the Red square of Moscow. With, this accession to the throne of the famous, or rather 01famed, dynasty began a 304 years* misrule that —let us hope—has ended forever with the foreed abdication of Czar Nicholas, In March, 1917..

New Zealand wheat acreage ta 20 par cent short;

HER KINDLY DEED

By JESSIE ETHEL SHERWIN.

(Copyright. t»l». by Western Newspaper UfiK»n.;) , “Oli, girls—did yon ever I” The tennis group dropped bat and ball and ran to the high garden hedge and peered through it. Coming down the road, leading a sleek, comfortablelooking cow, was Raymond Worth. He had the manly stride and wholesome, healthy fact a young farmer. He was not such, but his father had been one and early rural traiuing had left its impress. He colored slightly as he noted the group beyond their leafy shelter. Their twitterings hurt and embarrassed him. He harried big steps and winced as the echo of suppressed laughter reached him, for he was oversensitive and he had mude out Celia Willis beyond the hedge. She had not joined in the ridicule, but Raymond did not know that. He sighed heavily. He wasjieither uncouth nor ignorant, but he was conscious that he did not exactly line up to the standard of the average young man of the town as to the finer social entities. Not that he was not Invited to their various gatherings, but he was plain in manner and speech; he did not “shine,” he was practical and did not enter into idle folly. His parents were dead and had left him quite an estate, but he wasted no time at the village billiard hall, visited the property he owned daily and (lid not disdain to wear his working suit and lend a helpful hand where hard work pressed. Raymond led a rather lonely life. With the exception of Mary Dorr, an old-time family servant, he had no company. She made tilings neat and comfortable, but she was now on the shady side of life and he felt the Jajck of —companionship of his own age. When he led the cow into the barn Mary came out and joined him. “Oh. dear! what a handsome, finelooking animal,” she oommentejl. It took her back to' the old times and her dimmed eyes brightened. “But why in the world did you buy her?” “I didn’t,” answered Raymond. “Mr. Lane, the farmer, is closing out. He owed me a hill and I had to take the Cow in payment.” “What are you going to do with her?” “Sell her to some other fanner.” “Yes, I guess that is best, although she’d make it seem more homelike and natural to have her around,” said Mary, longingly. “She’s n beauty, good for six quarts morning and night. But what would one do with the extra milk ? I’m getting too old to attend to all that. We’ll have some rare sweet cream over tomorrow, though.” Raymond loaded some boards into a light wagon next morning. Amongst his holdings vvfts a large tenement house in -a poor quarter of the town. A porch needed some repairs, and he planned to attend to this, get home at noon and take the cow across country to a farmer to whom he knew he could sell it. He had just completed his work on the porch when he noticed an acquaintance, a young doctor, leaving the house. “Somebody sick, Doctor Allen?" he inquired.

“More than one. Worth," came the reply, gravely, spoken. ‘‘lt’s the babies. There’s nine little ones cooped up in those dose, crowded rooms. You 'do your duty in the wuy of keeping up good sanitary conditions, and the ventilation isn't bad, but it’s the diet. Those children'are juA wasting away for the need of fresh, wholesome milk. It’s pretty near chalk and water, the second r rate stulT these people buy. But they have to. with milk doubled in price. The nine will be five before the summer is over if the babies don’t get better nourishment." Raymond stood for some moments übsorbed in deep thought. Then he went to one of the lower flats. Here lived Mrs. Wood, a widow, who supported herself by sewing. She had a son, Hardy, who was lame In one limb and who helped the family income by attending to a newspaper stand mornings. ‘‘Mrs. Wood,” spake Raymond, “you can help me out with a certain problem, and Hardy can earn a couple of dollars-n week extra. I wish to present a milch cow to the tenement for the benefit of the babies, you to take charge of milk distribution and Hardy to take care of the animal and milk her, an art I enn soon teach him.” Mother and son were enraptured with the idea. “You are bestowing a rare blessing,” said Mrs. Woods. “Miss Willis and her sewing circle do a great deal in providing clothing for the little ones, but you are bringing them life, health and happiness.” The milk undertaking brought great interest and satisfaction to Raymond. The little ones throve and the most pleasurable duty of Raymond was in providing feed and coriifort for Molly. One day Raymond, visiting Molly’s quarters, caught the echo of voices. He thrilled. Mrs; Woods was telling the story of his benefaction to Miss Willis. The latter stood caressing the placid, pleasant animal, and, noticing Raymond. extended her hand. She did not speak. Her limpid eyes met his own with a grateful glance ahd then she hurst Into tears for sheer joy and hid her face upon Molly’s sleek, velvety neck. And later she did not disdain riding home in Raymond’s truly democratic , wagon, and every time her glance met his own- he knew that each approving „ glow* of those lovely eyes was drawing them closer and closer to the portal#. at mutual, love. c