Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 183, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 August 1919 — Page 2

PIECES OF EIGHT

_! CHAPTER Vlll—Continued. Uj-, ; ' —ls— I turned my eyes over the sea—l could move them, at all events; how gloriously it was shining out there' And here was L helpless, with arms extended, as one crucified. I closed my eyes in anguish, and let my body relax; perhaps I dozed, or perhaps I fainted—but, suddenly, what was that that aroused me, summoned me back to life? It seemed a short, sharp sound of firing! I opened my eyes and looked out to sea, and then I gave a great cry: “Calypso! Calypso!” I cried. “Calypso!” and It seemed as though a giant’s strength were in me—that I could rend the rocks apart I made a mighty effort, and, whether or not my relaxing had made a readjustment of my position,.! found that for some reason I could move forward again, and, with one desperate wriggle, I had my head through the narrow space. To wrench my shoulders and legs after it was comparatively easy, and, in a moment, I was safe on the outer side, where, as I had surmised, the aperture did widen out again. Within a few moments, I was on she edge of the sea, had dived, and was swimming madly toward — But let me tell what I had seen, as I hung there, so helpless,- in that crevice in the rocks.

CHAPTER IX. Action. I had seen, close in shore, a twomas ted schooner under full sail sweeping by, as if pursued, and three negroes kneeling on deck, with leveled rifles. As I looked, a shot rang out, from my right, where I could not see, and one of the negroes rolled over. Another shot, and the negro next him fell sprawling with his arms over the bulwark. At that moment, two other negroes emerged from the cabin hatchway, half dragging and half carrying a woman. She was struggling bravely, but in vain. The negroes—evidently acting under orders of a white man, who stood over them with a revolver —were dragging her toward the main mast. Her head was bare, her hair In disorder, ai!<J one shoulder from which her dress had been torn in the struggle, gleamed white in the sunlight. Yet her eyes were flashing splendid scornful fires at her captors; and her laughter of defiance came ringing to me over the sea. It was then that I had cried “Calypso!" and wrenched myself free. The next moment there came dashing in sight a sloop also under full canvas, and at its bow, a huge white man, with a leveled rifle that still smoked. At a glance, I knew him for Charlie Webster. He had been about to fire again, but, as the man dragged Calypso for’ard, he paused, calm as a rock, waiting, with his keen sportsman’s eyes on Tobias—for, of course, it was he. “You—coward I" I heard his voice roar across the rapidly diminishing distance between the two boats, for the sloop was running with power as well as sails, _ __ _____ Meanwhile, the men had lashed Calypso to the mast, and even In my agony my eyes recorded the glory of her beauty as she stood proudly there —-the great sails spread above her, and the sea for her background. “Now, do your worst,” cried Tobias, his evil face white as wax in the sunlight “Fire, fire—don’t be afraid," rang out Calypso’S voice, like singing gold. At the same instant, as she called Tobias sprang toward her with raised revolver. “Another word, and I fire," shouted the voice of the brute. But the rifle that never missed its mark spoke again. Tobias' arm fell shattered, and he staggered away screaming. Still once more, Chajlie Webster's gun spoke, and the staggering figure fell with a crash on the deck. “Now, boys, ready,” I heard Charlie’s voice roar out again, as the sloop tore alongside the schooner —where the rest of the negro crew with raised arms had fallen on their knees, crying for mercy. All this I saw from the water, as I swam wildly, toward the two boats, which now had closed on each other, a mass of thundering- canvas, and screaming and cursing men—and Calypso theye, like a beautiful statue, still lashed to: the mast, a proud smile on her lovely lips. Another moment, and Charlie had sprung aboard, and, -seizing a knife from one of the screaming negroes, he cut her free. His deep calm voice came to me over the water. “That’s what I call courage," he said. “I could never have done it” The. “king" had been right He knew his daughter. By this I was nearing the boats, though as yet no one had seen me. They were all too busy with the confusion on deck, where four men lay dead, and three others still kept up their gibberish of fear.

I saw Calypso and Charlie Webster stand a moment looking down at the figure of Tobias, prostrate at their feet “I am sorry I had to kill him,” I heard Charlie’s deep growl. “I meant to keep him for the hangman.” But suddenly I saw him start forward and stamp heavily on something. “No, you don’t," I heard him roar—and I learned afterward lhat Tobias, though mortally wounded, was not yet dead, and that, as the two had stood looking down on him, they had seen his hand furtively moving toward the fallen revolver that lay a few inches from him on the deck. Just as he had grasped it, Charlie’s heavy boot had come down on his wrist. But Tobias was still game. “Not alive, you English brute!” he was heard to groan out, and, snatching free his wrist too swiftly to be prevented, he had gathered up all his remaining strength, and hurled himself over the side into the sea. I was but a dozen yards away from him, as he fell; and, as he rose again, it was for his dying eyes to fix with a glare upon me. They dilated with terror, as though he had seen a ghost. Then he gave one strange scream, and fell back Into the sea, and we saw him no more. s. It will be easier for the reader to imagine, than for me to describe, the look on the faces of Calypso and Charlie Webster when they saw me appear at almost the same spot where poor Tobias had just gone bubbling

“Now, Do Your Worst!” Cried Tobias.

down. Words I had none, for I was at! the end of my strength, and I broke ; down and sobbed like a child. “Thank God you are safe —my treasure, my treasure!” was all I could say, dfter they had lifted me aboard, and I lay face down on the deck, at her feet. Swiftly she knelt by my side, and caressed my shoulder with her dear hand. All of which —particularly my reference to “my treasure” —must have been much to the bewilderment of the good simple-hearted Charlie, towering, innocent-eyed, above us. I believe I stayed a little longer at her feet than I really had need to, for the comfort of her being so near and kind; but, presently, we were all aroused by a voice from the cliffs above. It was the “king,” with his bodyguard, Erebus and the crew of the Flamingo—no Samson, alas! The sound of the firing had reached them in the woods, and they had come hurrying to discover its cause. So we deferred asking our questions. and telling our several stories, till we were pulled ashore. As Calypso was folded in her father’s arms, he turned to me: “Didn’t I tell you that I knew my daughter?” he said. “And I told you something too, O king," I replied—my eyes daring at last to rest on Calypso with the love and pride of my heart. “And where on earth have you been, young man?” he asked, laughing. “Did Tobias kidnap you too?” It was very hard, as you will have seen, to astonish the “king.” But, though it was hard to astonish and almost impossible to alarm him, his sense of wonder was quite another matter, and the boyish delight with which he listened to our several stories would have made it worthwhile to undergo tenfold the perils we had faced. Our stories, said the “king,” were quire in the manner of “The Arabian Nights,” dovetailing one into the other. “And now,” he added, “we will begin with the ‘Story of the Murdered Slave and the Stolen Lady.’ ” Calypso told her' story simply and in a few words. The first part of it, of which the poor murdered Samson

THE EVENING- REPUBLICAN. RENSSELAER. IND.

By Richard Le Gallienne

Being the Authentic Narrative of a Treasure Discovered in the Bahama Islands in the Year 1003. Now First Given to the Public.

had been the eloquent witness, needed no further telling. He had done his brave best—poor fellow —but Tobias had had six men with him, and it was soon over. Her they had gagged and bound and carried in a sort of improvised sedan chair; Tobias had done the thing with a certain style and — she had. to admit —with absolute courtesy. When they had gone a mile or two from the hpuse, he had had the gag taken from her mouth, and, on her promise not to attempt to escape (which was, of course, quite impossible) he had also had her unbound, so that her hurried journey through the woods was made as comfortable as possible. They were making, she had gathered —and as we had surmised —for the northern shore, and, after about a three hours’ march, she heard the sound of the sea. On the schooner she had found a cabin all nicely prepared for her—even dainty toilet necessaries —and an excellent dinner was served, on some quite pretty china, to her alone. Poor Tobias had seemed bent i on showing—as he had said to Tom—that he was not the “carrion” we had thought him. After dinner, Tobias had respectfully asked leave for a few words with her. He had apologized for his action, but explained that it was necessary—the only way he had left, he said, of protecting his own interests, and safeguarding a treasure which belonged to him and no one else, if it belonged to any living man. It had seemed to her /that it was a monomania with him. While he had been talking, she had made up her mind what she would do. She would tell him the plain truth about her doubloons, and offer him what remained of them as a ransom. This she did. and was able at last half to persuade him that, so far as anyone knew, that was all the treasure there was, and then the digging among the ruins of the old house was a mere fancy of her father’s. There might be something there or not—and she went so far as to give her word of honor that, if anything was found, he should have his share of it. Tobias had seemed Impressed, and promised his answer in the morning, leaving her to sleep—with a sentry at her cabin door. She had slept soundly, ■ and awakened only at dawn. As soon , as she was up, Tobias had come to her, saying that he had accepted her I offer, and asking her to direct him to her treasure.

This she had done, and, to avoid passing the settlement, they had taken the course round the eastern end of the island. As they had approached the cave (and here Calypso turned a quizzical smile on nie, which no one, of course, understood but ourselves), a sloop was seen approaching them from the westward . . . and here she stopped and turned to Charlie Webster. “Now,” said the “king,” “we shall hear the story of Apollo—or, let us say, rather Ajax—the Far-Darter —he of the arrow that never missed its mark.” And Charlie Webster, more at home with deeds than words, blushed and blushed through his part of the story, telling how —having called at the settlement —he had got pur message from Sweeney, and was making up the coast for the hidden creek. He had spied what he felt sure was Tobias’ schooner—had called on him “in the king’s name” to surrender — (“I had in my pocket the warrant for his arrest,” said Charlie, with innocent pride—“the’d —d scoundrel”) but had been answered with bullets. He had been terribly frightened, he owned, when Calypso had been brought on deck, but she had given him courage—he paused to beam on her, a broad-faced admiration, for which he could find no words. —and, as he had never yet missed a flying duck at —I forget how many yards Charlie mentioned—well . . . perhaps he oughtn’t to have risked it. And so his story came to an end, amid reassuring applause. “Now,” said the “king,” “for the Story of the Disappearing Gentleman and the Lighted Lqntern.” And then I told my story as it is already known to the reader, and I have to confess that, when I came to the chestful of doubloons and pieces of eight, I had a very attentive audience. The “king” was for starting off that very night. But, reminded of the difficult seclusion in which the treasure still lay, he was-persuaded to wait till the morrow. “At dawn then,” he said, “tomorrow —‘what time, the rosy-footed dawn’ ... so be it. And now I am going to talk to Ajax the Far-Darter of duck shooting." “But wait!” I cried. “Why did ‘Jack Harkaway’ go to Nassau?” Calypso blushed. The “king*’ chuckled. v - “I prefer not tp be known in Nassau, yet some of my business has to be done there. Nor is it safe for beauty like Calypso’s to go unprotected. So from time to time, ‘Jack Harkaway' goes for us both! And now enough of explanations!” and he launched into talk of game and sport in various

parts of the world, to the huge delight of the great simple-hearted Charlie. But, after a time, - other matters claimed the attention of his other auditors. During the flow of his discourse night had fallen. Calypso and I perceived that we were forgotten—so, by an impulse that seemed to be one, we rose and left them there, and stole out into the garden where the little fountain was dancing like a spirit under the moon, and the orange trees gave out their perfume on the night breeze. I took her hand, and we walked softly out into the moonlight, •and looked down at the closed lotuses in the little pool. And then we took .courage to look into each other’s eyes. “Calypso,” I said, “when are you going to show me where you keep your doubloons?” —and I added, in a whisper, “Jack —when am I going to see you in boy’s clothes again?” And, with that, she was in my arms, and I felt her heart beating against my side. “Oh! my treasure,” I said—ever so softly—“ Calypso, my treasure.”

POSTSCRIPT. Now, such readers as have been “gentle” enough to follow me so far in my story, may possibly desire to be told what lay behind those other locked doors in the underground gallery where I so nearly laid my bones. Those caverns, we afterward discovered, did actually communicate with Blackbeard’s ruined mansion, and the “king,” who has now rebuilt that mansion and lives in it in semifeudal state with Calypso and me, is able to pass from one to the other by underground passages which are an unfailing source of romantic satisfaction to his dear, absurd soul. As to whether or not the mansion and the treasure were actually Black•beard’s —that is, Edward Teach’s —we are yet in doubt, though we prefer to believe that they were. At all events, we never found any evidence to connect them at all with Henry P. Tobias, whose second treasure, we have every reason to think, still remains undiscovered. As for the sinister and 111-fated Henry P. Tobias, Jr.,*we have since learned —through Charlie Webster, who every now and again drops in with sailors from his sloop and carries off the “king” for duck hunting—that his real name was quite different; he must have assumed, as a nom de guerre, the name we knew him by, to give color to his claim. I i.m afraid, therefore, that he was a plain scoundrel, after all, though it seemed to me that I saw gleams in him of something better, and I shall always feel a sort of kindness toward him for the saving grace of gallaht courtesy with which he Invested his abduction of Calypso. Calypso . . . She and I, just for fun, sometimes drop into Sweeney’s store, and, when she has made her purchases, she draws up from her bosom a little bag, and, looking softly at me, lays down on the counter —a golden doubloon; and. Sweeney—who, doubtless, thinks us all a little crazy—smiles indulgently on our make-be-lieve. Sometimes, on our way home, we come upon Tom in the plantations, superintending a gang of the “king’s” janissaries—among whom Erebus is still the blackest —for Tom is now the lord high steward of our estate. He beams on us in a fatherly way, and I lay my hand significantly on my left side —to his huge delight. He flashes his white teeth and wags his head from side to side with inarticulate enjoyment of the allusion. For who knows? He may be right. In so mysterious a world the smallest caus'e may lead up to the most august results and there is nothing too wonderful to happen. (TH® END.)

Key of Happiness.

It is very difficult to realize It sometimes, and it is very hard on our pride to admit it when We do realize it, but it is a fact nevertheless, and a fact that we should let get hold of us, and stay with us —that the joy and happiness and satisfaction of our lives depend very much more upon ourselves and the kipd of people we are than upon the kind of things that happen to us. It is the kind of will we carry round with us, and the attitude of our mind and*~the temper of our spirit and decides whether our lives shall be happy and hopeful, and not the things that come to us. Given the right kind of will, the same attlude-and the wholesome temper of soul, we shall be able to adjust ourselves to life with some comfort and satisfaction,, no matter what its accidents and incidents, until they become quite satisfying. We carry the key of our own happiness ourselves and no one can give it to us or take it away.

Only Worthwhile Boss.

“De good boss,” said Uncle Eben, “aln’ de man dat lets you loaf on de job, but de one dat shows you how you kin take pleasure an* pride in do work.”

UNKNOWN PANAMA

1 BELIEVE it will surprise most Americans, and perhaps a few of our field naturalists, to learn that right at the back door of the Panama canal lies an almost unknown jungle wilderness, unmapped asd practically uninhabited in the interior except for a few very primitive Indians. Virtually the entire eastern portion of the, republic of Panama lying between the canal and Colombia, roughly 300 miles long by from 50 to 100 miles wide, is unknown, and the published maps of this country, except for the seacoast and the location of half a dozen small towns, are all faked, writes Lieut. Col. Townsend Whelen in Natural History. It was my good fortune to spend the entire dry seasons (December to June) of 1916 and 1917 exploring' a part of this country. We found it necessary to'know something of that portion of it nearest the canal, and it fell to my lot, assisted by Companies E and H. Twenty-ninth United States infantry, to make a preliminary exploration with a view to planning and expediting its accurate mapping by the engineer corps. It is because this little piece of jungle probably will remain virgin and unspoiled for many years that I think it ought to be brought to the attention of our field naturalists. It is so easily accessible, and yet only the borders of it have been scratched by the scientist. No one yet knows what is in the interior, what secrets it contains, what new fauna and flora its exploration will reveal. In the Real Jungle. In the Canal zone, which extends five miles to either side of the canal, practically all of the jungle forest has long" since been cut off, and in its place has grown up a dense, impenetrable second group of small trees, palms, creepers, thorns, and coarse grass. But if one cuts his way through this tangled growth for about five miles in from the canal he comes to the real jungle, standing up like a gigantic wall of green verdure. Once in it all is different, even the very climate itself. Here one can wander at will, unimpeded by thorns and creepers. It is even easier traveling here than in the woods of our own Northeast, because as a rule there is much less “down” timber. It is like a new world, a world that one has not even read about. From the blazing sun and sweltering heat of the second growth one enters what Is almost an underground world, cool* and balmy. Everywhere the giant trees go up limbless for from 100 to 200 feet, and then spread out their verdure, literally hiding the sky. Beautiful slender palms grow in great profusion in the semidarkness forming the lower growth, impeding one’s view but not one’s progress. Scarcely ever can one see more than 50 yards, and never does the explorer get an extended view, even from the tops of the highest mountains. When I first entered the jungle it was with an indescribable feeling of awe and wonder, and this feeling has never left me; nay, it persists, drawing me, calling me to come back, more insistent even than the “Call of the North.” Unexplored Mountain Ranges. That part of the jungle in which my most intensive exploration was conducted lies to the east of the city of Colon, between there and the town of Nombre de Dois, and extending from the Caribbean coast inland to the headwaters of the Chagres river system. Between the Chagres basin and the Caribbean coast rises the cordillera of Cerro Bruja, a mountain range that starts about ten miles efist of Colon, and rises steadily, culminating in the peak of Cerro Bruja (3,200 feet) about 15 miles south of the town of Porto

Nut Palm Beside the Jungle Trail.

Bello. -East of Cenro Bruja peak the Rio Piedras rises almost in the basin of the Chagres, flows north around the base of Cerro Brujo, then west, and empties into the sea half way between Colon and Porto Bello. The Piedras is one of the largest rivers of Panama, but you will not t flnd it on any map, even its mouth having been" mistaken for a lagoon of the sea when the coast line was charted! , The Rio Grande, figuring largely on existing maps, is an insignificant little stream, several miles long, really unworthy of a name. Beyond the valley of the upper Piedras rises a really imposing range of mountains called Cerro Saximo, culminating in a peak somewhere south of/Nombre de Dois, which must attain an altitude of from 6,000 -to 8,000 feet. I think I am the only one who has ever Viewed this range, as it seems to be invisible from any place where there is any trace of human beings, and its presence is barely noted on only one old map, with no indication as to its altitude. Beyond Saximo neither I nor anyone else know what. There are rumors that the interior beyond is inhabited by Indians of the San Blas (CunaCuna) tribe, and that they are very hostile to invasion of their country by whites. Plant and Animal Life. I must confess .to absolute incompetency when it comes to a description of the flora of the jungle, incompetency both scientific and linguistic. I doubt if the jungle as a whole can be described —it cah only be marveled at. It is beautiful, appealing, terrifying. I never cease to wonder at the trees — giant moras, borigon, cavanillesia, ceibas, rubber, and fig. The enormous trunks with great buttressed roots rise 100 feet without a limb, and then spread out literally to hide the sk£. Limbs, so high that one can scarcely see them among the leaves, drop lianas to the ground—long tangled lines like the wrecked rigging of some masted ship. Then there is the secondary growth, a hundred varieties of tree ferns and palms, suited by nature to grow in semidarkness, robbed of the sunlight by their giant neighbors. The bird life is no less wonderful than the vegetation. The Panama jungle is blive with birds. The variety and coloring are truly remarkable. On the ground I observed several varieties of quail, tinambu, and pheasants. In« the low-bush area are wrens, humming birds, thrushes, ant birds, and a variety of other species either common to the United States or unknown to me. In the medium zone, half way to the leafy ceiling of the jungle, dwell doves, guans, owls, motmots, and trogans. High up in the roof are parrots, parrakeets, macaws, toucans, and . cotingas. The mammal life of the jungle Is also very abundant. The ordinary traveler, however, will see little of it owing to several conditions which only a man with extensive hunting or collecting experience will realize. Among the animals I observed were tapir, deer, peccary, agouti, paca, sloth, coati-mundi, kinkajou, anteaters, monkeys, otter, puma, jaguar (spotted and black), ocelot, squlirels, opossums of many varieties, and rabbits. Snakes. were fairly numerous, the harlequin snake, boa constrictors, and a very long and thin bright green tree snake being the most, numerous.

“Nope, you can’t marry him.” “But, papa, consider his wavy hair, his soulful eyes. He is my ideal,” ‘‘Listen here, girl. If you could meet up with an ideal earning as much as flO-af a/week I wouldn’t say a word.”—Louiaville - =

Dad's Position.