Jasper County Democrat, Volume 20, Number 96, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 March 1918 — The Plunderers [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Plunderers

By Ora B. Maddox.

(Copyright. 1817, by W. Q. ChsfpmanJ It was at a police station in the heart of a great city to which the Rev. Alger Trescom was a visitor, that the young clergyman In question had his first experience of the ways of the unfortunate and criminal. . , A turnkey had just shown him through the cells. His sensitive spirit had awakened with sympathy and sorrow at what he witnessed. Two prisoners, arrested for robbing a man of s4l, had particujarly attracted his attention. They were boyish, ingenuous and bright-faced. When he came up into the courtroom, swayed by an impulse he could not resist, Mr. Trescom had sought out the man who had been robbed. His little store of money amounted to less than fifty dollars. It was hard earned and badly needed, but he had a vision of “giving ‘the boys’ a new start.” The victim of the robbery agreed to drop the case- if his money were returned. “No prosecution prisoners discharged,” announced the judge a few minutes later and the surprised criminals hastened to leave the court room. Trescom followed them. He was anxious to have an opportunity to show them the evil of their ways and try to influence them to mend the same. As he came outside he saw them conversing with their victim. The latter pointed out Trescom to them and the culprits went up to him. The older of the twain looked at Trescom in a quizzical, strangely interested way. “Are you the guy who settled with the bloke who had us pinched?” he inquired. “If you mean that I have tried to rescue you from your troubles in the hope of seeing you do better," replied Trescom gravely, “yes.” “You come with us and have a drink,” Darby Dan, taking the arm of Trescom. “I never drink, thank you,” observed Trescom stiffly. “Boys, for you seem

such to me, my heart has bled for you. I have given nearly all of my little store of savings to redeem you. Surely the sincerity of my Interest In your behalf should entitle me to your confidence.” “Give him his chance, Dan,” remarked the other of the two criminals, known as Red Lowry. They listened respectfully enough, as almost with tears in his eyes the earnest young minister attempted to show them the folly of their ways. He told them his name and the address of a sister In the city whom he was visiting for the week. He asked them to come and see him there and he would try to find them honest work. “You’re a good sport,” announced Derby Dan effusively, when the lecture had concluded. “It’s a waste of time maybe, for you do not understand our ways, but you’ve gone down Into your pocket for strangers, you are the right sort and soon as we hit another job we’ll send you back the coin with interest.”

“Surely you do not contemplate another crime I” gasped the horrified good man. “There’s only one trade we understand, boss,” said Red Lowry. “It’s cost us a lot of money to learn it and it’s got to produce something, see? You’re a fine sort and if ever we can help you out we’ll be on hand.” The Rev. Alger Trescom went on his way feeling that he had come across a proposition beyond his mastery, and the two young men waved him an airy farewell with grinning, amused faces. They did not appear at his sister’s house, as Trescom had hoped, and the latter was a little grewsome as he reflected that about all the money he had In the world had gene into an unsuccessful experiment. A week later Trescom was back at Earlville, where he had held the pastorate of a small village church for dyer a year. It was a poor charge, the

■salary barely sufficient to sustain the little parsonage and pay the old woman living at its rear, who kept the house in order and furnished his meals. The heroic spirit of the young preacher, aowever, had resisted the temptation jf a better-paying charge. He had made friends, he felt that he was doing good in the community and he loved his little flock. They were unable to do more than they had in a money way, and he never even hinted at the»deprivation and hardships he was suffering for their sakes. Now fate plays strange freaks with Its victims. It was destiny, clean, precise and circumstantial, that led the wayward Dan and Lowry on one of their marauding expeditions to the vicinity of Earlville. They burglarized a big mansion near the town. Their loot was opulent, but the sight of a dark and lonely house in Earlville, the parsonage, was a temptation in their path to add to their ill-gotten store. “Easy job, getting in here,” observed Red, as they pulled down the curtains and lit a lamp. “Doesn’t look as if the owner had much,” supplemented Dan, as he glanced about a sparsely furnished sitting room, while his companion proceeded to investigate a bureau in the adjoining sleeping chamber. He came out, throwing up his hands despairingly. “Let’s go, Dan," he suggested. “Darned -stockings, mended shirts, worn-out summer underclothing—in this freezing weather! The man’s a pauper who lives here.” “Look!” suddenly exclaimed Dan, and pointed to a photograph on the wall. Then he picked up a book and examined its title page. It bore the name: “Alger Trescom.” They stood staring strangely at each other. “Red,” said Dan, in a strained and subdued voice, “we’re cads!” “Worse than thatl” observed Red, and he looked shamed and serious. “It’s the guy who saved us in the city. What you up to?” he demanded, as his pal drew from his pocket a package done up in a handkerchief, placed it on a desk and proceeded to write on a blank paper pad. “The right thing,” answered Dan shortly. He set the package on the note. “Come on,” he said, “I’m bad, but human.” Returning to his humble home an hour later, Alger Trescom was fully astounded to find the note left by Dan. It read: “We’re the guys you tried to help in the city. We had just visited another place when .we struck your joint. Found out it was yours, and it’s against our principles to work any district you’re in. Return the swag and tell ’em they’re safe, if they’re friends of yours.” Opening the handkerchief, Trescom found diamonds, jewelry, money. There was an inscription on a brooch. It had been a gift to "Viola, from Her Loving Father.” Trescom followed the clue. There was a Miss Viola Duane, the daughter of a wealthy banker, two miles from the village. He went there the next day. It was the charming Miss Viola herself who listened to his strange story. She was glad to recover the jewels. A keen Interest came into her gentle eyes as the worthiness of this struggling philanthropist was made clear to her. And lo! from that interest it came about that friendship grew into love, and Alger Trescom soon had a life partner whose wealth enabled a broader scope for the generous qualities of a truly good man.

"Worse Than That!” Observed Red.