Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 90, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 April 1919 — Page 2

The River

... CHAPTER XlX—Continued. —lo— voice halted them. “Men Of the valley." The audience, swayed again, listened. “Hear me. The river’s running away again down yonder. This is a message from .Rickard. It’s broken through the levee. It’s started for the valley. Now, who’s going to stop It? Can you? Where’s your force, your equipment? Who can rush to that call but the company you are hounding? I gave you Faraday’s message. His hand’s on the table. Not another cent from him unless you withdraw those suits. You say you have given- me your answer. Black’Sanswer. Now the river plays a trick. It calls your bluff. Shall we stop the river, meqr-of the valley ? We can. Will yon withdraw your suits? You can. What is your answer now, Imperial valley?” The scene broke into bedlam. Men jumped to their chairs, to the velvet rim of the boxes, all talking, screaming, gesticulating at once. The Yellow Dragon was never so fearfully visualheed. Out* of the chaos of men’s voices came a woman's shriek, “For God’s mire, save our homes." It pitched the panic note. “Save the valley! Stop the river!" Marshall’s Indian eyes were reading that mass of scared faces as though it were a sheet of typed paper. “Barton,” he called through the din. “Where’s Barton?” Two men lifted Barton’s puny figure upon their shoulders. His vibrant voice rolled above the shouting. “The valley withdraws its suits against the company.” “Then the company,” yelled Marshall’s oratory, “the company withdraws the river from the valley!’’ Pandemonium was loose. There were cheers, and the sound of women sobbing. Barton was carried out op. the shoulders of his henchmen. Black led a crowd out, haranguing to the street. On the street. Marshall fell back to Mac Lean. “That was a neat trick the Mver threw in our hands." His voice had dropped from oratory; the. de-

Gerty Welcomed Her Stiffly.

1 filming fire was gone from the black eyes. , “It’s only a break in the levee. Rickard says he can control it; estimates two weeks or so. It may cost the O. P. a few thousand dollars, but It saved them half a million. Now we’ll have that game of poker, MacLean !” In the balcony, Hardin was staring at Brandon. “If that wasn’t the devil's own luck!” CHAPTER XX. A Soft Nook. Innes traveled, gleefully, in a caboose, from Hamlin Junction to the Heading. She could not stay away a day longer! Never before had Los Angeles been a discipline. Why had it fretted her, made her restless, homesick? Then she had discovered the reason; history was going on down yonder. Going on, without her. She knew that that was what was pulling her; that only! The exodus of engineers had started Tiverward in July. Gerty went with Tom, and she had made it distinctly clear that it was not necessary for Innes to follow them. Ridiculous for two women to coddle a Tom Hardin! Unless Innes had a special interest! Her pride had kept her away. But Tom did not write; Gerty’s letters were social and unsatisfactory ; the newspaper reports inflamed her. The day before she had wired Ton) that she was coming. She had to be there at the end J Gerty welcomed her stiffly. Assuming a conscientious hostess-ship, she caught fire at her waning enthusiasms. . Gerty looked younger and prettier. Her flush accentuated her childish features which were smiling down her annoyance over this uninvited visit. . r ’ unSEri? -u - * • .

“We have all the home comforts, haven’t we? Why shouldn't we be comfortable when we are to be here for months? I’m going to brave it out—to the bitter end. even If I bake. It is my duty—•• She would make her intention perfectly clear I “There ought to be at least one cozy place, one soft nook that suggests a woman’s presence. We have tea here in the afternoon, sometimes. Mr. Rickard drops In.” The last was a delicate stroke. “Afternoon tea? At the Front? Is this modern warfare?" The girl draped her irony with a smile. Gerty was stealing a pleased survey in the mirror through the rough door that opened Into the division called her bedroom. The sunburned, unconscious profile of Innes was close to her own. I’lnk and golden the head by the dark one. She looked younger even than Innes ! Good humor returned to her. “We are going to dine on the Delta tonight." She pinned up a “scolding lock,” an ugly misnomer for her sunny clinging curls! The mirror was requisitioned “That’s the name of the new dredge. It was christened three weeks ago, in champagne brought from Yuma." “You said dine on the Delta. Do you mean they have meals there?” “You should see it,” cooed Gerty. “It’s simply elegant It’s a floating hotel, has every convenience. The camp cook. Ling,has his hands full.” “Going to wear that?” They were standing now’ by the door of Gerty’s dressing tent. Over the bed a white lingerie gowm was spread. “I live in them. It's so hot,” shrugged Mrs. Hardin. “I’ll look like your maid, Gerty!” Innes' exclamation was rueful. “I didn’t bring anything but khakis. Oh, yes ’ I remember throwing in, the 1 last minute, two piques to fill up space.” “Why, we have dances on the Delta, and Sunday evening concerts. You knew the work at Laguna dam is being held up? The government men of the Reclamation Service are down here all the time. But it's time to be getting ready." Later, Tom flatly refused to accompany them. “I thought as much.” Gerty shrugged an airy Irresponsibility. Innes could detect no regret. " ■, ■ , They passed a cot outside the tent. “Who sleeps there?” “Tom.” The eyes of the two women did not meet. Innes made no comment. “He finds the tent stuffy.” Gerty’s lips were prim with reserve. They walked toward the river in silence. As they reached the encampment, Gerty recovered her vivacity. “That’s Mr. Rickard’s office, that ramada. Isn’t it quaint? And that’s his tent; no, the other one. Mac Lean’s is next; there’s Junior, now.” But his eyes were too full of Innes to see Gerty’s dimples. The difference in the quality of his greetings smote Gerty like a blow. And she had never considered Tom’s sister attractive, as a possible rival. Yet, after a handshake, she saw that to Mac Lean, Jr., she did 'not" exist. Gerty was deeply piqued. Until now, the field had been hers. She might perhaps have to change her opinipn of Tom’s sister. Boys, she had to concede, the younger men, might find her attractive, boyishly congenial; older men would fail to see a charm! The arrangement at table annoyed Gerty. The boss, Mac Lean explained gaily, would not be there for dinner. He might come in later. Two men from |he Reclamation Service tried to entertain Mrs. Hardin.

“It isn’t a battle.” Innes looked around the gay rectangle. “It’s play!” The thought followed her that evening. Outside, where the moonlight was silvering the deck, and the quiet river lapped the sides of the dredge, Jose’s strings, and his “amigo’s” throbbing from a dark corner, made the illusion of peace convincing. This was no battle. It was easy to believe herself again at Mare island—the Delta a cruiser. ■ Later, Gerty passed her, two-step-ping divinely. Before her partner turned his head, Innes recognized the stiff back and straight poised head and dancing step of Rickard. She admitted he had distinction, grudgingly. She could not think of him except comparatively; always antithetically, balanced against her Tom. *Tm tired; let’s rest here.” Innes drew into the shadow of the great arm of the dredge, ’fhey watched the dancers as they passed, Mac Lean playing the woman in “Pete’s” arms, Gerty with Rickard, two other masculine couples. The Hardins were the only women aboard. 1 1 It was because of Tom that Innes felt resentment when the uplifted appealing chin, the lace ruffles fluttered by. 1 Tom, lying outside an unfriendly tent! It was easy, in that uncertain light, to avoid Rickard’s glance of recognition. Estrada, who had come aboard with the manager, sought, her out, and then Crothers of the O. P. Agaip, she saw Richard dancing with the lingerie gown. There seemed to be no attempt to qover Gerty’s preference; for Rick-

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

Copyright. Bobbs-Merrill Company

ard, she was the only woman there! Because she was Tom’s sister, she had a right to resent it, to refuse to meet his eye. Small wonder Tom did not come to the Delta ! Going in with Mac Lean, Jr., to the me.ssroom for a glass of water, she met Rickard, on his way out. She managed to avoid shaking hands with him. She wondered why she had consented to give him the next waltz. “He’ll not find me,” she determined. Mac Lean followed , her gladly to the dark corner of the deck where’s Jose’s guitar was then syncopating an accompaniment to his “amigo’s” voice. To her surprise, Rickard penetrated her curtain of shadow’s. , “Our dance, Miss Hardin? Give us ‘Sobr’ Las Olas,’ again, Jose.” The hand that barely touched Bls arm was stiff with antagonism. She told herself that he had to dance with her—politeness, conventionality, demanded it. But, instantly, she forgot her resentment, and forgot their awkward relation. It was his dancing, not Gerty’s, then, that w’as “superb.” Anybody could find skill under the; leadership of that irresistible step. And then the motion claimed her. She thought of nothing; they moved as one to the liquid falling beat. The music dropped them suddenly, solating them at the stern of the deck. The silence was complete. Rickard broke it to ask her what she thought of the camp. Her resentments were recalled. She blundered through her impression of the lightness, the gayety. “A work camp does not have to be solemn. You’ll find all the grimness you want if you look beneath the surface.” The guitars were tuning up. “Shall I take you back? I have this dance with your sister.” * She thought of Tom —on his lonely cot outside his tent. She forgot that she had been asked a question. He was dancing again with Gerty! If that silly little woman had no scruples, no fine feeling, this man should at least guard her; If he had been her lover, he should be careful; he must see that people were talking of them. She had seen the glances that evening ! The business relation between the two men should suggest tact, if not decency! It was outrageous. Rickard stood waiting to be dismissed ; puzzled. Through the uncertain light, her anger came to him. She looked taller, older; there was a flame of accusing passion in her eyes. It w’as his minute of revelation. So that was what the camp thought! The wife of Hardin—Hardin! Why, he’d been only polite to her—they were old friends. What had he said to call down this sudden scorn? “Dancing—again—” Had he been all kinds of an ass? “My turn, Miss Innes!” demanded Mac Lean, Jr. “Oh, yes,” she cried, relief in her tone. Rickard did not claim his dance with Mrs. Hardin. He stood where the girl had left him, thinking. A few minutes later, Gerty swept by in the arms of Breck. Later, -came Innes with Junior ; the two, thinking themselves unseen, romping through a twostep like two young children. He was never shown that side of her. Gay as a young kitten, chatting merrily with Mac Lean! Should her eyes discover him, she would be again the haughty young woman! He’d gone out of his way to be polite to the wife of Hardin. What did he care what they thought? He’d finish his job, and get out. A minute later, he was being rowed back to camp.

CHAPTER XXI. A Complete Camp. “Complete, isn’t it?” Estrada was leading Innes Hardin through the engineers’ quarters. A “Yes, it’s complete !” Her Brother had told Her at' breakfast that morning how grandly they had been wasting time! She would not let herself admire the precision of the arrangements, the showers back of the white men’s quarters, the mesquitshaded kitchen. Gerty’s elaborate settling was of a piece, it would seem, with the new management Housekeeping, not fighting, then, the new order of things! Tom was afire to get his gate done. She knew what it meant to him; to the valley. The flood waters had to be controlled. That depended, Tom had proved to her, on the gate. And the men dance and play houses as if they were children, and every day counting! She thoughtshe was keeping her accusations to herself, but Estrada was watching her face. “We are here, you know, for a siege. There are months of work ahead, hot months, hard months. The men have got to be kept well and contented. We can’t lose any time by sickness—” He wanted to add “and dissensions.” The split camp was painful to him, an Estrada. “Even after we finish the gate, if we do finish it —•” She wheeled on him, her eyes gleaming like deep yellow jewels. “You’ve never thought we could finish it I”

When the Colorado Burst Its Banks and Flooded the Imperial Valley gs California

By EDNAH AIKEN

Estrada, hesitated over his answer. “You are a friend of Tom’s, Mr. Estrada?” “Surely! But lam also an admirer of Mr. Rickard, I mean of his methods. I can never forget the levee.” She had to acknowledge that Rickard had scored there. And the burning of the machinery had left a wound that she still must salve. “You have no confidence in the gate?" “The conditions have changed,” urged Estrada. “You’ve seen the mess.

She Waved Her Hand Gayly.

tent? As it was planned, it was all right, a hurry-up defense. Marshall all along intended the concrete gate for the permanent intake. Have you seen the gap the Hardin gate is to close? Have you heard what the last floods did to it? It’s now twenty-six hundred feet, and Disaster island, which your brother planned to anchor to, swept away! If it can be done, it will, you can rest assured, with Rickard —” he saw the Hardin mouth then —“and your brother’s zeal, and the strength of the railroad back of them.” The camp formed a hollow trapezium ; the Hardins’ tents, and Mrs. Dowker’s, were isolated on the short parallel. Rickard’s ramada and his tent were huddled with the engineers’. Across, toward the river, behind Ling’s mesquites, began another polygon, the camp of foremen and white labor. Some of these tents were empty. “Is this Mexico, or the States?” asked Innes. ?- “Mexico.” She wondered why he halted so abruptly. She did not see, for the glare in her eyes, a woman’s skirt in the ramada they approached. Estrada marched on. Outside the ramada, the two women met. Gerty’s step carried her past like a high-bred horse. Her high heels cut into the hard sand. There was a suggestion of prance in her mien. She waved her hand gayly at the two, cried, “How hot it is!” and passed on. Innes saw Rickard at his long pine table used for a desk. “I can see it all from here.” Not for money would the sister of Tom Hardin go in! At table, that evening, her family heard with surprise Gerty’s announcement that they were to eat in the mess tent with the men. It was too hot to cook any longer; this had been one of the hottest days in the year. She expected to hear a protest to the new arrangement from Tom. She was to see a new development—sullen resignation. If he would accept it, she must not argue. Both sister and brother knew why it was too warm to cook any longer.

CHAPTER XXII. . A Visit to Maldonado. Mrs. Hardin’s- descent on the office that afternoon was successful, but not satisfactory. She had found the manager brief to curtness. She was given no excuse to linger. She traced Rickard’s manner to the presence of MacLean, and snatched at her cue. She, too, could be businesslike and brief. Her errand was of business; her manner should recommend her! Rickard had seen Jier making straight toward the ramada. It was not the first time; her efforts to line her nest had'lnvolved them all and often. But today, lie was Ln a bad humor. “For the Lord’s sake,” he groaned to Mac Lean as she- approached. Mac Lean’s grin covered relief. He had never heard Rickard express hifnself on the subject befcre. “The dead-set Hardin's wife was making at Casey,” was the choice gossip and speculation of the young engineers on the Delta. Maclean had a bet up on the outcome. He grinned more securely. “I im not going to spare any more 1 [carpenters,” growled Rickard. It was

an inauspicious day for Mrs. Hardin’s visit. Things had gone wrong. Vexations were piling up. A tilt with Hardin that morning, a telegram from Marshall; he was feeling sore. Desperately they needed labor. Wooster" had just reported, venomously, It appeared to Rickard’s spleen, increasing drunkenness among the Indians. Gerty’s ruffles swept in. Her dress, the blue mull with the lace medallions, accented the hue of her eyes, and looked deliciously cool that glaring desert day. Her parasol, of pongee, was lined with the same baby hue. Her dainty fairness and childish affability should have made an oasis in that strenuous day, but Rickard’s disintegration of temper too complete. He rose stiffly to meet her, and his manner demanded her errand.

She told it to him, plaintively. Her eyes were appealing, Infantile. Would it be too much to ask, would Mr. Rickard mind in the least, he must be perfectly frank and tell her If they would be in the way at all, but while this hot spell lasted, could they, the three of them, eat in the mess tent with the men? - “Surely!” Rickard met it heartily. She would find it rough, but If she could stand it, yes, he thought it a good idea. And then there was nothing for her to do but go. Her retreat was graceful, without; haste, dignified. She smiled a farewell at Mac Lean, who was watching the approach of Innes Hardin and Estrada. Rickard did not see the aborted entrance of Hardin’s sister and the young Mexican. He was itching to be at his work. He let out a growl when Mrs. Hardin was out of earshot. “Shucks I What in Halifax do women come to a place like this for? There’s Hardin —brings in two women to cook for him, and now, please may they all eat with the men?” His secretary subdued a chuckle. He was visualizing a procession of boxes of choice Havanas —from Bodefeldt, Hamlin and the rest of the gang. He need not buy a smoke for a year.

Rickard threw himself back in his chair. “Take this letter, Mac Lean. To Marshall.” Then his worry diverted him. “Who in thunder is selling liquor to my Indians?” “Hold on; that letter can wait. You get the horses up, Mac Lean, and we’ll ride down to Maldonado’s. It’s his place to stop this liquor business, not mine.” A few hours later they were approaching the adobe walls of Maldonado. They found the gate locked. A woman, whose beauty had faded into a tragic whisper, a ghastly twilight of suggestion,' came to their knock, and unbarred the gate for the white strangers. Mystery hung over the inclosure like a pall. Rickard told his errand. Maldonado sputtered and swore. By the mother of Mary the Virgin, that thing would be stopped. He showed to the senors, with pride, his badge. He was a rurale; he was there to uphold the law. He had caught some of those drunken Indians on the road. He had brought them here. Maldonado showed three men In a locked shed, deep in drunken stupor. He thought the liquor was obtained somewhere back in the sandhills. He would find the place. But the senor must be patient; his hands were so full. Both men were glad to get away from the place and Maldonado. Obviously he was a brute; undoubtedly he whs a liar.

CHAPTER XXIII. A White Woman and a Brown. For a few weeks Mrs. Hardin found the mess tent diverting. Before the Delta had expanded the capacity of the camp her soft nook had been overtaxed, her hospitality strained. The men of the reclamation service, thrown into temporary inactivity, were eager to accept the opportunity created for another. Failing that pther, her zeal had flagged. Events were moving quickly at the break; Rickard was absorbed. Mrs. Hardin told herself that it was the heat she wished to escape; not to her own ear did she whisper that she was following Rickard, nor that the percolator and chafing dish, her shelves and toy kitchen were a wasted effort. She kept on good terms with herself by ignoring self-confi-dences. Rickard, the discovery unfolded slowly, took his meals irregularly. His breakfast was gulped down before the women (appeared; his dinners where he found} them. “Nd wonder!” reflected Gerty Hardin. “Ling’s cooking is so bad." Small wonder the manager foraged for his meals; She wbrked out a mission as she lay across her bed that hot afternoon. Her duty became so dear that she could no longer lie stilL Immediately she must retrieve her weeks of idleness; what must Rickard think of her? She buttoned herself thoughtfully into a frock of pale colored muslin, cream slipping toward canary. White was too glaring on a red-hot day like this.

Ptafc was cm hit, blue too definite. A parasol of pat tel green, and she looked like a sprig of fragrant mignonette. She found the open space of the trapezium swarming with strange dark faces. So silent their coming she had not heard the arrival of the tribes. She isolated the Cocopahs, stately as bronze statues, their long hair streaming, or wound mud-caked under the brilliant headcloths. Foregathering with them were men of other tribes;; these must be the Yumas and Degulnos, the men needed on tlie river. These were the men who were to work on the rafts, weave the great mattresses. A squad of short-haired Pimas with their squaws and babies and their gaudy bundles, gaped at the fair-haired Woman as she passed. The central space was filling up with Plmas and Maricopas, Papagoes, too; she knew them collectively by their shont hair. These were brush cutters. This, then, meant the beginning of real activity. Tom would at last be satisfied. He would no longer sulk and rage alternately at the hold-up of the work. Before she reached Rickard’s ramada she saw that another woman was there. She caught an impassioned gesture. Her only surmise rested on Innes. Gerty saw that she was dark; she looked the halfbreed. The brown woman drew back as the white woman entered. Gerty smiled an airy reassurance. She herself would wait. She did not want to be hurried. She told Rickard that she had plenty of time. “There is something you want to tell me?” Rickard’s patience was courteous but firm. He would hear her errand first. Gerty, remembering the Imploring attitude of the stranger, determined that she would not he sent away. “Will you excuse me, senora? It will be only a minute.” She was to tell her errand, and briefly 1 Gerty swept past the intruder. “Sit down, Mrs. Hardin.” Resenting the Inflection, she said she would stand. Her voice was a little hard, her eyes were veiled, as she told her mission. Her usual fluency dragged; she felt a lack of sympathy. In short, she proposed a commissary department, herself in charge. “I’d like to feel I was of some use,” urged Gerty. “My heart is bound up in this undertaking; if I’m allowed to stay, I’d like to help along. This is the only way I can, the woman’s way.” “Aren’t you taking a good deal on yourself, Mrs. Hardin?” Then she forgave his hesitation quite, as it was of her he was thinking. “Not if it helps.” Her voice was low and soft, as if this were a secret between them.

“Why, of course, anything you want, Mrs. Hardin.” And, remembering her former position, he added, “The camp’s yours as much as mine.” A glad smile rewarded him. She went out, reluctantly. There was a new significance in Mac Lean’s absence from the ramada. What could that woman have to say that Mac Lean must not hear? For the first time the weak tenure on her old lover came to her. Not a sign bad he yet given of their understanding, of the piquant situation. Themselves old sweethearts, thrown together in this wilderness. What had she built her hopes on? A Word here, a translated phrase, or magnified glances She would not harbor the new worry. Why, it would be all right. In the meantime she would show them all what a woman with executive ability could do. “Sit down, senora,” said Rickard to the brown woman, Maldonado’# wife. “Don’t be frightened. We won’t let him hurt you.” Rickard vulgarized his Castilian to the reach of her rude dialect. Familiar as was Rickard with the peons’ speech in fheir own coun-

A Woman Unbarred the Gate.

try, he could not keep up with her story. Lurid words ran past his ears. Out of the jumble of abuse, of shame and misery he caught a new note. “You say Maldonado himself sells liquor to the Indians?” “Ssh, senor!” Someone might bear him! She looked over a terrified shoulder. That had slipped out, the selling of the liquor. She could have told her stciry without that; she wanted to deny it. Relentlessly Rickard made her repeat it, acknowledging the truth.— “What, makes you tell me now?” Rickard hunted for the ulcer. He knew there was a personal - wrong. “What has Maldonado been doing to> you? ’Has he left you?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) The consumption of newsprint paper by the daily, weekly and monthly publications of Australia runs about 4.000 tons a month.