Jasper County Democrat, Volume 22, Number 97, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 March 1920 — Page 7

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3, l»gO

WHITE MAN

By George Agnew Chamberlain

Author of "Hom*.” “Through Stained Chas.” "John Bogardua.” etc.

HlllllllllllllliiimHH'iiuiiinnin 'Copyright, 1919, The Bobbs-MerrlU Company

SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I.—Andrea Pellor, handsome Ixughter of Lord Pellor, Impecunious ristocrat, is doomed to marry an illitrate but wealthy mfddle-aged diamond line owner. She disconsolately wanders rom her hotel In South Africa and disovers an aviator about to fly from the each. Impulsively, of course imagining Bat the trip will be merely a pleasant acurslon, and a welcome relief from Boughts of her impending loveless marlage, she begs to be taken for a flight, although she does not know him. He Somewhat unwillingly agrees, and they ■tart. CHAPTER ll.—When she realizes her unknown aviator is not going back Anfirea in desperation tries to choke him with one of her stockings. He thwarts her and they sail on into the very heart as Africa. Landing in an immense craal, Gkndrea finds the natives all bow in worship to her mysterious companion. She is given a slave boy, “Bathtub," and the White Man sets about building a hut for CHAPTER lll.—Andrea is given a Simpse of the home which is to be here, id wonders at its completeness. White ah invites her to dinner that evening, and in spite of the fact that he has refused to take her back to civilisation AnUrea accepts his invitation, but be continues deaf to her pleading that he restore her to her friends. CHAPTER IV.—Andrea Is awakened from sound sleep next morning by loud bounding on her doorway andls told to prepare for a day’s hunt with White Man. Bhe thoroughly enjoys the exciting trip and begins to understand more of he •‘host’s’” character and the reason for his apparently ruthless slaughtering of animals. He is providing for the force of blacks he employs and who look to him for sustenance. CHAPTER V.—Andrea, worrying over her deplorable lack of change of clothing, Is surprised and delighted when a trunk, loaded with everything In the way of Clothing dear to the feminine heart, is dropped at her doorway bys tai war natives and she is told by White Man that they are hers. White Man by a skillful ■hot saves her from the attack of a ■able bull and she is fast becoming reconciled to her fate after eight days in the craal. CHAPTER Vl.—On another expedition the donkey on which Andrea Is mounted runs away with her and she Is for a moment made ridiculous. White Man explains the African method of wife purchase "obolo."’ She is horrified. After- , ward she listens to the report of native ’ runners that a herd of elephants Is In the district and is Invited to the hunt by White Man. They start down a croco-dile-Infested stream for the scene of the hunt. CHAPTER Vll.—After a tedious tramp three bull elephants are sighted and Andrea Is transfixed by the excitement of the chase. Overcome by the spectacle of the killing of two elephants Andrea suddenly finds herself in the warm embrace of White Man. To her surprise ■he is by no means indignant. Andrea learns that another white man is encamped near their craal, butwhen she declares she would like to wee him White Man warns her she must never try to see or communicate with the stranger. He refuses to give his reasons, and Andrea resolves to meet the other man. CHAPTER VIII. — White Man announces that his work is ended, and preparations are made for the shipment of the material on hand. One rainy night Andrea allows herself to become despondent. She gives the signal agreed on between them to summon White Man .to her in case of danger, with a mixture of ridicule and comfort he coaxes her from her despondent fit. His strong character and his ideas of a life of usefulness are something of a revelation to Andrea, used to the frivolous existence common to most ‘‘aristocrats,’ and she begins to realize with a little alarm that ■he is beginning to care deeply for him.

CHAPTER IX. Scarcely had she finished when a sudden languor seized her. She knew that she ought to bathe and dress quickly, for M’sungo would be keen for his breakfast after his “white” night. Why did all Latins call a sleepless night “white,” anyway? Her brows puckered over that problem and it seemed as though she must puzzle it out before she did anything else. She crept into her cot to attend to it. A cold wave swept over her body and left it frozen; a pain stabbed into her side. The pain was like a knife, red-hot It terrified her. In an instant her tongue was parched, her eyes were burning. So suddenly had sickness come upon her that even in the face of its clamoring presence, her mind declared it incredible. Surely it would pass swiftly as it had come. She clenched her teeth and waited. There was a look in her face as though she listened. The pain ceased. When it came back again it was no longer a knife but the raving fangs of a wolf tearing their way toward the vitals of hei body. She tried to clench her teeth, to keep silence until the spasm passed but she could not hold out. “White Man!" she moaned and then, realizing that she must make him hear now or never, she gathered all her strength and screamed. She heard quick steps coming from the craal, a thundering on her door and then his voice, “Am I to come in?” She tried to cry out again and could not; tears poured down her cheeks. Btit the white man did not wait; another moment and he was standing Over her twisted body. She looked up. 'The stricken look in her frightened .eyes was as nothing to the sudden »terror that had come Into his own* He Bank to his knees. “You are ill?” he breathed. ( He passed his cool hand across her Corehead, held his fingers to the pulse

In her throat, grasped her wrists and found them burning—all burning. night,” he said, “w»en you were in here, you didn't use your curtain? You left the light on?” She did not answer beyond a stare from glassy eyes. Her face was white, her lips a straight purple line. Her shoulders were rigid, but beneath them her body was twisting and turning as though In a desperate effort to tear Itself away from the sentient seat of pain. “Is It as bad as that?” said M’sungo. Into his voice had already come the calm of a man accustomed to the face of danger. “I’m going to leave you for a moment,” he continued. “When I come I’ll take the pain away.” He stepped toward the barred door and tried to open it. So Intent was he on getting to his room that he glanced at the cord and saw only that it was hindering him. He drew out his knife, cut the bar free and hurried on. The three minutes he was gone seemed an eternity to Andrea. When he came back he carried In one hand a medicine case and in the other a hypodermic syringe already filled. He set the case down carefully, grasped and bared Andrea’s forearm, rubbed it with alcohol and quickly gave her an injection. “Skip the next five minutes,” he said. “Fasten your mind to five minutes from now.” She obly moaned to show that she heard him. But even before the five minutes were up she could feel peace coming to her body slowly and from far away, as though it feared to pounce upon her suddenly. When It settled upon her it brought with it a drowsy and ineffable relief. Her eyes could move once more In their sockets. They followed the white man as he made his rapid preparation for a long siege. She heard him call Bathtub and issue a string of orders; then he brought a chair close to the cot and sat down. “Andrea,” he said quietly, “we’re up against it, you and I. I can’t say just what it is. It may be ptomaine, you may have been sickening for appendicitis, but I’m almost afraid It isn’t either of those. If It’s fever, It Is pernicious.” Her eyes stared at him, hung upon his face. He took one of her hands In his. “I’m breaking all the rules by frightening you,” he went on, “and I do It purposely. Ido it because I’ve learned that you and I are brothers in one thing. We’re fighters. All the blood in our veins flows one way—up hill to battle. We don’t know when to quit No d fever can show us where to get off. It’s going to be shoulder to shoulder, and if you go back on me I’ll go back on God, for I trust you as I’ve never trusted any living thing.” Her hands twisted in his and gripped his fingers. “You’re great. White Man,” she said softly. “You’re like that —a fighter—and it’s sweet of you to ring me In. No d fever can show you—no d ” She crumpled up and cried. “Good for you,” said M’sungo promptly, “cry now. It can’t do you a bit of harm and it will probably put you to sleep. But when you wake. If you want to cry then, please come up crying mad and really to set your teeth in the throat of pain. For he’ll have you, he’ll have you in a halfNelson and I can’t always stick him with the needle.”

It was even as he said. All day and all night the battle raged, and there were moments / when Andrea forgot that she was a fighter, begged with gasping, heartrending moans for opium and relief, and when he refused, her tongue turned bitter, sharp as a serpent’s tooth. Each word she said was chosen to wound. Herself the most fair-minded of women, she became unjust, ungenerous and cruel as dead love. He was giving her the treatment for pernicious malaria. Together with every, other white man who has served apprenticeship to Africa he had an extraordinary store of rough and ready medical knowledge. To such men only six drugs are essential, all others being classed as furbelows of the pampered sick room, and with these they work as with elementals. Kill or cure Is their motto, the saving Idea being that If the patient can’t stand punishment, he would go under In any case. On those rare occasions when Andrea’s spasms conquered his reluctance to use the needle he would watch her until the opiate stilled her and then fall Into his chair and to sleep. “I am here,” he would say even as his lids closed. “Never forget, I’m here for you. Touch me or speak to me and Til awake.” It was true. In spite of his long vigil he kept deep slumber at a distance by an effort of the will like a man who sets a clock In his mind and trusts to his subconscious self to call him at the hour marked. The afternoon of the second day found Andrea unusually subdued and still, but he was not deceived. He looked at her eyes and saw that their pupils still appeared convex and glassy like the eyes of a fish. They stared at him with an immeasurable gravity. When her dry lips parted, he shrank even before she spoke. “I wish you would go away,” she said quietly. “I don’t like to look at you; I don’t wish you to look at me. I will be glad if I never see you again. There Is no one In the world that I wish ever to see again. Please send me that nigger. Bathtub. If J must have some one I would rather have him.” He arose, called Bathtub and made him squat on the floor where her eyes could quickly find him; then he went to the door behind her land stood for a long time looking out across the glaring craal. The rays of the sun descended on that beaten space with an almost audible contact. The leaves of the acacias were shriveled; not a woman or a child was visible, and even

THE TWICE-A-WEEK DEMOCRAT

the fowls crowneo close in the snaaows of the eaves.

He took one step out and looked up Into the bowl of blue. His tired eyes searched It from horizon to zenith and back to the hot level of the earth. It was empty. Its hollow infinity pressed down upon his breast with a measureless weight. He had come out for a parley, remonstrance on his lips, but he had forgotten that in the tropics God walks only at night. He turned, went back to his post and sat down, dismissing Bathtub with a nod. Andrea’s* eyes were still fixed in a lightless stare. Presently she began to speak. “You bring me here, you let me fall ill, you shame my body. You are like the men that strap down little dogs and open them. You are like that. You have been staring at my heart, at my bare lungs and all the unnamable beastly things inside of me. You leave me alone with a nigger—when I'm torn open. I don’t hate you. You are nothing.” Her voice went on for a long time. He dropped his face in his hands, but he did not try to stop his ears. They listened to nil she said, they told him she was suffering as he had known no one ever to suffer before. Her spirit spoke from beyond pain. In that hour he learned n great truth. Pain is a wall, a barrier. So fnr and no farther ian flesh go and still hold to the memories, the fears and affections of everyday life. Beyond that barrier is a void where love itself is a stranger, where life and death are one and equally of no account.

He did not know when he fell asleep or when her voice ceased, but on awakening such a silence met him as struck his heart cold. She was still —still as death. Night had fallen, but he was unaware of darkness. He fejt that never again would he need light or eyes or air to breathe. He was cold as though the sun in setting had slipped down and out beyond any rising. He leaned over and put his face close to her lips. They were parted. Her hand was lying outside the coverlet. He took It up gently. It was warm and moist. She was sleeping. He drew erect,’hiS body tense in the first realization of a great and overwhelming relief; then his spirit melted within him and his nerves relaxed from the long, hard strain. His limbs crumpled, his head nodded and fell forward, lower and lower until, one arm outstretched, he lay with his face half

He Lay With His Face Half Buried in the Covers of the Cot.

burled in the covers of the cot. When again he awoke, the sun had changed its mind and come back; day was streaming across the floor in a single band of light; but he did not stir. On his head he felt Andrea’s hand, and in his ears was the lingering caress of her voice. “Lots of good it did to tell you to go away, White Man,” she was murmuring. “You came back. You brought me back. White Man, I love you a little.” “And I you,” breathed M’sungo. He slipped to his knees, took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes as though he could never take his fill of the sanity that had come back to them. “Andrea Pellor,” he went on, “before you have time to think about it I want to tell you that you and I can never feel shame again. I want you to know that no man, however mean or tarnished by life, could do the Intimate things that I have done for you and will still have to do, without feeling the pangs of a love that is rooted outside the limits of passion.” He dropped his eyes as though before a confessional. “Until I saw you quite helpless, until I saw you pass to the other side of jialn, I didn’t know that I had a heart.; I had a strange conception of love as a thing that you give generously to dogs, sparingly to men and never to women except as a last surrender to the unknown.” He paused; Andrea smiled faintly. “And now?” she promoted. “Now, —” he answered. “Now I know that a man must travel far beyond the limits of every-day emotions to come up with love Itself. He may find content and drowsy happiness in some woman possessed of all the qualities that command affection, but love itself dwells far beyond at the crossroads of weakness and strength. And

bo your helplessness, carried to that last degree, has wound itself around my heart with a grip that will never loosen.” “Poor White Man!” said Andrea. “Whether you want me,” he continued gravely, “or mock me, whether you are true or untrue, pure or impure —all those things no longer matter, for love is an Integral possession. You may leave me, put the width of the world between us, and the breath of your body will still be the breath of mine, the surge of your blood will be the surge of mine; your sins will be my sins, because your helpless self, stripped of all the clogs of flesh, has twined Itself for always with the fibers of my heart.” “So you would give three pounds for me,” murmured Andrea. He let go her hands and rose quickly to his fee.t. “You are stronger than I thought,” he said. “No, I’ll never give a cent for you. I’ll wait till you’re well and then I’ll take you in free fight and in ray own way.” But Andrea did not hear him; she had sunk back lax into her pillows. Two tears crept from under her closed eyelids and down/her hollow cheeks. ‘Tm so weak,” she whispered, “so weak I can’t cry.” The white man cursed himself aloud. No one knew better than he that it is not won when the tide of battle turns, and that he who sleeps on the verge of victory awakes to defeat. He settled down to the long vigilance that was his price of peace. The day and a night came and went before he could draw the long, quivering breath of relief that marked the passing of danger. During the stage of convalescence he read and talked to her by the hour, but the time came when she would have no more of the printed page. He had spoken a passage here and there from the book of his own life and now she demanded the volume from cover to cover. He told her of his boyhood in a New England country town, of scrapes in school and of the disaster in college that had turned him from the narrow road of specialization in the diseases of the nose and ear to that broad highway which is trod lightly and aimlessly by stray dogs and citizens of the world.

“You would have made a great physician,” said Andrea, almost regretfully. “Perhaps,” he replied. “B u t I wouldn’t have saved myself. I would never have found myself. I would have been one of those unconscious mortals who spend their lives in a group picture. I would never have found out that there is something within me that utterly rebels against all those Isms which alm at the collective classification of animal man and whose goal is the herd Instead of the individual.” “But isn’t that old stuff?” asked Andrea, yawning for the first time In many days. “No, it isn’t,” said the white man thoughtfully, “and I’ll tell you why. Never for centuries has intrinsic life been so close as it is today to Its true level of proportionate valuation. What was worth living for yesterday, isn’t a justification today. Food, raiment and a baby-grand measure less in the thoughts of true men than do truth, honor and the final quality of mercy. He sat for long in an absorbed silence. “Tell me,” said Andtea, “how the production of a million dollars’ worth of fiber is an expression of the Individual.” “Now you’re trying to pull down the star to which I’ve hitched my personal wagon,” said M’sungo with his slow smile. “Well,” he continued, “take it, handle it, but let it go again when you’re through with it, because I need it high up and far ahead. When I realized that that M. O. wasn’t a liar, after an—” “White Man!” broke in Andrea and leaned forward. She stared at him wide-eyed and flushed of cheek. “Are you Trevor?” He nodded. “Robert Oddman Trevor?” “Robert Trevor,” he confirmed and simplified. “Oh, White Man!” she cried again, dropping her hands into her lap and gazing at him with an intensity that slowly drove the blood from her face. She was sitting in her hammock-chair, propped against all the pillows the camp could produce. She took a long breath and then she spoke again. “Will you do something for me—a little thing?” “Why ask?” said Trevor. “Well, it’s like this,” said Andrea. “I want to kiss you.” She turned her eyes from his face and continued rapidly. “It needn’t mean anything, of course. Nothing binding, you know, on either party. Only, you, see, anything might happen to me at any moment; I might fall ill again and just pqp off. So—if you don’t mind—l’d like to do it now, please.” Trevor’s face presented a puzzle that nobody saw, for Andrea’s eyes were anywhere but upon it. He arose and came hesitatingly to kneel beside her chair. “Well,” he said and she almost laughed at the weird quaver in his voice, “here I am. G—go to it.” She put her arms around his neck, and came blindly toward him. “Andrea," he protested, “aren’t you going to look in my eyes?” She shook her head, “No,” she whispered, “It isn’t that kind of a kiss.” Her soft moist lips on his mouth were as light as a flower that sways to its mate in the cool breath of the morning, salutes gently and recedes, fearful of bruising. “There I” she cried, sinking back on her pillows. “Now go on about the star thing." Trevor, a dazed look in his eyes, mopped his brow, returned to. his chair

In these days of tinkering with the social machinery, it is refreshing to learn of one plan for the betterment of our daily lives that demands neither revolution nor evolution for the attainment of its objective. Community Service is helping America do for itself in peace what, as War Camp Community Service, it aided a warring America to do. Just as in war the organization enabled communities to get the greatest value for the men in uniform from their recreational resources, so now it aims to stimulate communities to obtain for all the people the best results from leisure time opportunities. But, there is one great difference between the war work and the peace work—in the great struggle we were building for war and destruction; we are building now for peace and construction. Community Service is getting together the finest elements in the nation’s life—regard for our neighbors, affection for our homes, interest, in the place where we dwell —and blending them into a for* 1 working, not for our soldiers at war, but for our soldiers come back from war, for the men and women at home, for everybody in each community. Mothers and fathers, sisters, sweethearts, brothers, can all unite in Community Service with the satisfying knowledge that their endeavors are going to be reflected in better, sweeter, brighter local conditions This, we take it, will meet with the approval of every American. During the war a new spirit of comradeship was born in city, town and hamlet; a spirit particularly conspicuous in those places uniting through War Camp Community Service to extend hospitality to the men in olive drab ami blue. All who shared this spirit or came in contact with it hoped it might not be permitted to lapse with the coining of peace. In Community Service this fine product of war’s tumultuous days finds its perpetuation.

and obediently repeated, “Wheh I realized that that M. O. wasn't a liar after all, and that my flying days were really over, I had to look around for new steering lights. There are just three things in the world today: winning the war is number one, and after that come education and transport.” He nodded to himself as If tn CQD-

“Are You Trevor?”

firmation. “I picked Transport for my star. My mission is to ships and railroads. I believe in all reverence that together with education they can be welded into the second coming of our Lord, bearing peace and not a sword. If you can only see my star high enough and far enough away, you’ll know that it shines on a world beyond blasphemy.” He looked at her anxiously, as though he feared she might stay among the shallows while he was trying to show her his depths. She nodded. “Go on.” “Beginnings,” he continued; “always look small measured against ambition’s end, so I don’t often look so far ahead. Just now my eyes are fixed right here, on this soli of Africa, because from her overflowing breast I’ve drawn my stake of a million. That’s a bit mixed, but it’s clear, isn’t It?” "Yes,” said Andrea. "Go on.” “Another thing that is written In the book of great truths, which, by the way. Is the primer of the citizens of the world,” continued Trevor, “is the axiom that success begins at the point where a man stops asking for favors and starts giving them. You’ll get the connection when I remind you that the possessor of a million of anything can always give favors.” "A whole cotillion,” agreed Andrea. “Having a million, I shall have no difficulty in building a railroad across Africa with other people’s money, and having built I shall build another and then another. To put it in a nutshell, I might say that from now on all my prayers will be stated in terms of miles of roadbed—what you English call permanent way. Other and greater men have built empires; I should like to knit fhem together.” “When are you golr\g to start?" asked Andrea. “I’ve started already,” answered Trevor. “I’ve got my stake and a steamer besides; that’s pure velvet now-a-days.” . ‘Til tell you when you really started,” said Andrea. “The moment you connected your inner flame with the star of Transport.” “You're coming on,” said Trevor, pleased at her remembering. “And why,” said Andrea, "have you never once played the phonograph?*’ i “Ehl” exclaimed Trevor, hie mind

A SANE SYSTEM

turning sofnersault. "Look here," h* protested, "are you trying to bowl me over with my own philosophy of contrasts? What the devil has the phonograph got to do with stars and inner flames? The d thing isn't mine—that's why I never use It. It’s tainted by its prospective ownership.” “MacCloster," mused Andrea aloud. Her eyes flashed a smile at him. “Well, anyway, I know It’s going t* be awfully jolly." “What? The phonograph.” “No, silly. Building railroads.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Land Fight at Gary.

Hammond, Feb. 27. —Big variation* in the opinions of expert realty operators were brought out in superior court here In the trial of a suit in which the Gary jairk commissioners seek to condemn marsh lands owned by the Tolleston (Jun club of Chicago, 111., for park purposes. Values all th* way from S3OO to $1,500 were put on the land. The park commission contends that the value of the land should not be based on possible future usee, as it is covered with water several months of the year.

Joseph L. Hughes Is Dead.

Anderson, Feb. 27.—Joseph L. Hughes, age sixty-three, formerly sheriff of Madison county, died at hla home here after having been an Invalid several months. Mr. Hughes wan born on a farm near Alexandria. Ha was a dealer In farm implements In Alexandria for more than 40 years. Four years ago lie was elected sheriff of Madison county on the Democratic ticket and served one-term. A widow and four children,. Chester, Kenneth, Edna and Helen Hughes, all of Anderson, survive.

Answer Filed by Leo Kennett.

South Bend, Feb. 27. —Leo M. Kennett, who admitted stealing $250,000 worth of Liberty bonds from th® Studebaker corporation, filed an answer to the Studebaker suit for $5,000 damages filed to >prove that all the bonds except $30,0<)0 worth were destroyed by Kennett, with a view of having the government replace them. Kennett admits the theft anil destruction of the bonds in his answer, but denies that the Studebaker corpomtlon Is entitled to more than SSOO damages.

Charged With Stealing Auto.

Indianapolis, Feb. 27. —Georg* Hodges, twenty-one years old, of Marlon, faces a charge of stealing an automobile In interstate transportation between Indianapolis and Cincinnati, O. He was brought to IndianapoHa by federal officers and placed in the Marlon county jail in default of a bond of $2,500. Hodges admitted Ma guilt and waived preliminary hearing before Howard H. Young, United* States commissioner.

Must Provide for Boys.

Jeffersonville, Feb. 27.—Newton BL Myers, mayor of Jeffersonville, will not bar minors from poolrooms In this city, he told representatives of ths Jeffersonville Ministerial association and a committee of laymen, until some provision is made where boys and young men may go. The question of minors in poolrooms came up in connection with a move of the minis* ters, who Intended to act through a laymen’s committee.

Mother and Four Burn to Death.

Montreal, Feb. 27.—Mrs. M. Gregory and hetx four children wem r burned to death In a fire which destroyed their home.

Jaimie of Spain In England.

London, Feb. 27.—Prince Jalmle, ( second son of King Alfonso, arrive® here.

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