Kankakee Valley Post, Volume 2, Number 26, DeMotte, Jasper County, 19 January 1933 — Page 7

The Everlasting Whisper

By Jackson Gregory

CHAPTER XI-- Continued --20--At last Brodie returned and stood looking from Gloria to Gratton. “One of you knows,” he said shortly. “Which one?” “I swear to God --” began Gratton. “Shut up! Then it’s you?” The little, shiny blue eyes, never so coldly evil, drew her own frightened eyes, fascinated and held them. “You know.” “I don’t know! All I know--” “Don’t lie to me! It’ll do you no good.” He lifted a hand and held it over her, the enormous fingers apart and rigid. “I’ll make you tell!” “Listen to me,” she managed to cry out. “I don’t know, I tell you. But I know where it might be. In a place you would never think of looking. I'll tell you--if you will keep your hands off me! I’ll make a bargain with you. I’ll show you the place; if there’s gold there, I don’t care what happens to it --if you’ll only agree to let me alone --to let me go--” Brodie laughed at her. But Benny cried out: “Of course we'll let you go! What do you suppose we want of you? Once we get our hands on it she can go, Brodie. Tell her so, you big--” “Sure,” said Brodie; with a wide grin. “It ain’t women we’re after this trick; it’s something better.” am not sure what you'll find,” whispered Gloria. “I only know that--Oh, dear God, I hope you find all the gold in the world!” Hastily she ran by Brodie toward the dark end of the cave. Then she stopped and tried to think; how many paces had King said? She came back to the fire; thirty, thirty-five? She began counting as she walked while they watched her wondering and following slowly after her. She found several boulders in her path; but she had not gone far enough. She kept on; thirty, thirty-two, thirty-three--She could hardly see about her. She stumbled against a rock in her way. “Try here,” she said. Already Brodie and Steve Jarrold were at her side. “This rock. See if it will move--” They thrust her roughly aside. Brodie set down his rifle, laid his big hands on the boulder, and as if it had weighed only ten pounds, tossed it out of the way. He knelt, feeling along the ground. A sudden shout burst from him: “Down here! There’s a big hole; there’s a dark cave underneath. That’s where it is?” They brought fagots; at the edge of the hole they hastily built another fire. They crowded round, peering down. Brodie set his legs over the opening, called to the Italian to grab his rifle and keep an eye on Gloria and Gratton, and went down. The others crowded about the hole, waiting impatiently for him to go through, and then began piling down after him. Gloria could see their figures dimly. She heard them calling back and forth excitedly. Suddenly they were silent. Then there were swift mutterings. And then a great, triumphant, manyvoiced shout. In Gus Ingle’s treasure cache they had at last come to Gus Ingle’s treasure. And, among other things, to the skeleton of Gus Ingle himself, sprawling here for sixty years in the dark over a great heap of gold. CHAPTER XII Swen Brodie, whose will had at all times directed, was now absolute dictator. Big and brutal and fearless, drunken with gold, he loomed above his companions, driving them, commanding them, swearing violently that they would do what he told them to do or he’d dash their brains out. “We’re going down to the lower cave,” said Brodie. “Everything we can pry loose is going down with us. We’ll pitch the loose chunks of gold over the cliff and we’ll stow ’em away somewhere else--where King, if things break some way we don’t look for, won’t find ’em! What’s more, we move our camp from down the canyon to the cave below. Steve Jarrold, you and Tony are elected to that job, and you’d better get a move on. Bring up what grub’s left, and the blankets and stuff. The rest of us will start in firing gold overboard and putting it somewhere more safe--all that’s loose. Now move! Come ahead, you other fellows. You, too, Gratton; we ain’t forgot you. You can help. And so can you,” whirling on Gloria. “Woman or no woman, you got hands and feet!" Night, pitch-black, had come when they had done. Gloria, scarcely able to stand from exhaustion, her body bruised, her hands and arms wounded from many a jagged rock as she had gone back and forth carrying heavy loads, went with the others into the lowest cave in which already the gold had been stowed away. She sank

down wearily; she closed her eyes rather than watch the men about their fire, eating noisily, drinking noisily from their bottles which Steve and Tony had brought from their other camp. Trying to remain unnoticed in the shadows was Gratton. Brodie caught up a big piece of dried beef and gnawed at it like a dog. “It’s been a day’s work, at that,” he said with a full mouth. “But we ain’t done. I noticed how no man has said a word about how we split what we found.” “There’s five of us,” said Benny quickly. “We split it five ways, even, like pardners.” Brodie turned on him slowly, still rending at his meat, still clutching his rifle and holding it so that no man might forget that he held it. “Think so, Benny?” he said ponderously. “Being as I’ve worked on this lay a long time, since I let you others in on it, since I led you to it--think that’s the fair way to split it? Now suppose you listen to me. You boys ain’t mentioned a split because it was none of your say and you knew it. Say, in round numbers--but there’s ten times that--that there’s a million dollars tucked away here. I get just half that; that leaves half a million, don’t it? That’s five hundred thousand to split between four of you; that’s over a hundred thousand for every man jack of you. And that’s what I call a fair split.” They growled in their throats at that, but no man took it upon himself to speak out definitely though they glanced sidewise among themselves. Benny, who always had a thought of his own, said quietly: “What are you doin’ about Gratton? He’ll claim his share, won’t he? And, if you say him no, he’ll shoot' his face off, won’t he?” “No,” said Brodie heavily. “Gratton won’t talk. Gratton stole grub. When grub-stealing was the same as slitting a man’s throat. He’s done, that’s wliat he is!” With a swift gesture his gun was at his shoulder. A strangling cry broke from Gratton’s agonized soul. A hand, wildly outthrown, caught at Gloria’s sleeve. “You, there,” called Brodie, "stand aside. Unless you’re wanting yours, too!” Gratton was pressing tight to Gloria, seeking futilely to get behind her. He began to articulate--to beg--to ise--Brodie fired. A great reverberating roar filled the cavern. Gloria, her brain gone suddenly numb, felt the grip on her arm tighten convulsively. Then it relaxed--slowly. Gratton was sinking--Gloria put her hands over her eyes and screamed. Again and again her scream broke from her. She tried to draw back, to run. But all her strength was gone. She crumpled and settled down almost as Gratton had done, and so close to him that she brushed him, with her knee. She felt the body twitch. She leaped to her feet and ran blindly, screaming. She struck against the rock wall and sank down again. The wonder was that she did not swoon outright. As it was, her soul seemed to float dizzily out of her body and through an utter dark. She thought that she was dying. As though across a vast distance she heard voices. “Well?” It was the man who had done the shooting, his voice truculent. “Anybody got anything to say? Say it quick, if you have.” There was a silence. Then a shuffling of feet.. Then an answering voice, thin and querulous. It was Benny. “He had it coming,” he said eagerly. “Any judge would say so. Stole every bit of grub when stealing grub is the same as cutting a man’s throat, just like you said, Brodie. He had it coming. You done right.” “You, Jarrold,” demanded Brodie. “Got anything to say?” “No. Benny’s right. He had it coming. D--n fool.” “And you, Brail? And you, Tony? Got anything to say? Talk lively!” Brail and Tony, like the others before them, were quick to Brodie’s act. They spoke briefly and relapsed into silence. Then, beginning far away and coming closer with the speed of an onrushing hurricane, Gloria heard heavy feet crunching in the dirt and gravel. A hard hand gripped her shoulder, jerking her to her feet. “You, friend,” said Brodie. “What have you got to say about it?” “Don’t forget who she is,” another voice was saying. Steve Jarrold’s. “Remember what I told you. We got to think this out. She came along with King.” Brodie turned away from her. His mood was not so soon for a woman. “See she keeps her mouth shut,” he said threateningly. “If she ain’t got sense enough for that she ain’t got sense enough to go on living. Don’t let her go. That’s all I got to say about her right now.” She made an uncertain step toward the mouth of the cave. One clear thought and only one formed in her mind. As she had never longed for anything in her life, she yearned for Mark King. "Mark!”she screamed, “Mark King! Save me.” Jarrold clapped a big dirty hand over her mouth. She grew silent, cowering. She heard a sound of something dragging and could not hide her fascinated eyes. Thus she watched as Brodie gripped the slack of Gratton’s coat shoulders and shoved the body out into the snow. She even marked how the living man spat after the dead. “Go to the coyotes,” he muttered. “They’re your kind.”

THE KANKAKEE VALLEY POST.

Gloria knew that if she took a step Jarrold would clutch her again. So she stood very still. Brodie came back and threw some wood on the fire and squatted down over the provisions, seeming to be taking stock of them. He brooded over the fire, giving no sign of noticing her. “Let me go,” she said to Jarrold. “I am sick. I’d die here. Please let me go.” Jarrold shifted and looked to his companions. Benny shook his head. “There ain’t no hurry,” he stated judicially. “Where is King?” asked Brodie. “I don’t know,” she answered, speaking with difficulty. “I...Oh, for God’s sake, let me go. I won’t say anything about what I saw; I promise. If you will only let me go.” “They promise easy and break promises easier;” said Jarrold. Benny came up and touched Brodie on the shoulder. The squatting man started and scowled. Benny stooped and whispered. Brodie got up heavily and together the two withdrew, going further back in the cave. They talked but Gloria could not catch the words. Soon they gave over their whispering and came back to the fire, where Brail and the Italian looked up at them sharply. Here was another guarded conference among the four. Brodie made a last remark and laughed; the others laughed after him, and the four looked toward Jarrold and Gloria. Gloria was quick to see that Brodie had set his rifle away somewhere against the rock wall in the shadows. Only Brail still clung to his gun; if he should set it aside--if there should come a moment when she could slip to the cave’s mouth--in the outside dark, despite the deep snow, she would at least have a chance to escape from them. “It’s time we had a little talk,” said Brodie out of a short silence. “Without anybody’s skirt listening in. Leave her back there, further from the front door, Jarrold. Where she can’t get an earful, and where she can’t make a getaway; you come on over here a minute.”

Gloria made no resistance but sank down limply where Jarrold left her and watched him as he slouched over to the fire. A few times she heard them laugh; she could distinguish Brodie’s throaty, bull tone and Benny’s nervous cackle. Brail and the Italian said little; they were men to follow where other men led. “Come here,” Brodie. She started. He was calling to her! She got up and moved forward slowly. It was obey or be dragged to him. “Gratton's, then King’s, then Grafton's again?” Brodie chuckled. “I don’t care whose before Gratton’s the first time; but whose after Gratton’s the last time, that’s it! Who are you for, Bright-Eyes? Me or Steve?” “No!” she cried, her hands at her breast. “No! I am not like that! I was not Gratton’s; I am...I am Mark King's wife!" “So?” admitted Brodie good-hu-moredly. “Well, that cuts no ice; it's open and shut you’d gone back to Gratton. Now, come over here. Closer. Come over here and give us a kiss.” He jerked from his pocket a dull lump, one of the smaller, richer nuggets. “I’m no pincher; come across and I’ll give you a whole handful of gold!” His tone was playful. But Jarrold cut in less playfully; “Leave her alone, Brodie,” he advised. “She don’t cotton to you, and, what’s more, whose gold is it, anyhow? We ain’t divided yet. And she... Well, if she belongs to anybody, she's mine!” “So?” Brodie’s monosyllable was expressionless. “Well, I was asking her. And she ain’t answered yet.” Fast as the girl’s heart beat, her thoughts sought to fly faster. These men were brutes; here she began, and, alas, here she ended. She had never known what brute meant; she had called Mark King that! And now, if only Mark King could hear her call, could come to her...But that was less thought than prayer. In a moment she would feel upon her either the hands of Brodie or the hands of Jarrold. There was but one thing left to do, but one part to play--Oh, G--d, if she could play the part! She struggled mightily for a calm utterance. And in the end she said in a tone which she managed to make full of challenge; “Which of you is the better man?” They stared at her, all of them puzzled by her change of attitude as by her words. Then Brodie, with a noisy explosion of laughter, smote his thigh. “The better man!” he shouted. “Hear her, Steve, old horse? The better man!” He lunged to his feet. “I’ll go you, Steve. The lady’s right; she goes to the man who’s man enough to get her. That’s big Swen Brodie, the best man in these mountains! I’ll go you for her, Steve. By G--d, she’s worth it, too.” But Steve Jarirold sat where he was glaring. “She’s sly,” he grunted, cursing before and after. “Can’t you see what she’s up to? She wants us to fight one another; she’d be glad if we both killed one another. You don’t understand women, Brodie; they’re sly, like cats.” Brodie extended his great hands, the fingers crooked, curving slowly inward, like steel hooks. “I can eat you alive, and you know it, Steve,” he mocked. “What’s more, she knows it! That’s what she wants; she’s picked me, Steve! That’s just her way of letting you down easy; she don’t aim to hurt your feelings. Will you come on and take a fall for her? Or is the lady mine? What’s the word; speak up, man!” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

Romantic Origin of Package Medicines

Some of the most interesting romances will be found in the march of industry; for back of nearly every product which gains public acceptance is the very human story of somebody’s ideal, ambition, ingenuity, enterprise, disappointment, struggle and final achievement. The privations and hardships which accompanied the early years of the development of package medicines are an important part of the history of our nation. The public seldom appreciates the doubt, the ridicule, the ostracism and the enormous financial risks which were suffered by the early pioneers in medicines. Their faith, determination and pioneering spirit were responsible for developing and bringing to our medicine shelves those well known package medicines which afford economy and convenience, and which are so essential to our everyday lives.

Today we take our family remedies for granted as naturally as we accept the air or sunshine. Most package medicines were originally prescribed by that beloved individual, the memory of whose selfsacrificing life is most beautiful--the old family physician. Being prescriptions of merit which produced results, they survived. They became much in demand and consequently much prescribed by their originators. Perhaps the demand grew so rapidly that the old doctor found himself unable, with his limited equipment, his modest kit, to fill the need. Often he, sometimes assisted by his kinsmen or friends, prepared to meet the demand by a quantity production, that the meritorious prescriptions might receive the widespread use which their popularity justified. Then came years of toil, hardships, risks, struggles; with life's earnings and life’s efforts invested. Eventually the laboratory and the machine entered the picture, and every invention of a modern world was utilized to increase perfection, production and distribution. Whether an individual package medicine has been on the market for scores of years, or whether it is the more recent product of medical research, a large proportion of package medicines in general are based upon solid scientific knowledge, and deserve the confidence of the public. Proprietary remedies which can ease human suffering, mitigate human distress, or add to human health and physical efficiency, at a price within the reach of the poor man’s pocketbook, are indeed worthy adjuncts to American life, as well as American commerce. “They can be safely relied upon,” as Lord Bacon expressed it, “to tune the curious harp of man’s body.”

Dinner Menus of Past and Present

In the yard next door a turkey gobbler paced hack and forth, complaining bittterly about our tiresome habit of feasting on holidays. Once he was a luxury which only the affluent could afford, but now he is out of luck, for turkeys cost less than they have in many years. Time was when turkeys feared for their lives only twice a year, but now they’re in constant danger because they have slipped from the luxury class. Back in 1850 Christmas dinner for a well-to-do American family would have consisted of 12 meat courses and only a couple of vegetables. To-

day the idea makes us shudder, for doctors tell us that so much meat is not good for us, and that the lowly vegetable once scorned by the rich is full of vitamins necessary to health. Calories have changed our eating habits a lot. Dr. Julius Klein, assistant secretary of commerce, says that historians have overlooked the influence that hunger has had upon history. Our stories of the past deal with crowned heads and pompous potentates, with wars and movements of peoples. “It would make a fascinating tale,” writes Doctor Klein, “and in some ways a far more important one in terms of recording human experience, if we undertook to learn more about a people from a study of its cookbooks.” For example, a cookbook published in the days of Columbus shows that a dinner in those days for anyone who really amounted to anything in Spanish society consisted of from 12 to 16 meat courses. No person of quality would have dared serve vegetables at his table, for in so doing

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he would appear to be economizing at the expense of his guests. That was before it became smart to be thrifty, and it was thought that vegetables were humble fare fit only for peasants who couldn’t afford meat. Then, too, vegetables were scarce, since they grew best in tropical countries, and transportation was undeveloped. Besides they were perishable, and the refrigerator was un-known.--Indianapolis News.

CHAPPED HANDS To quickly relieve chapping and roughness, apply soothing, cooling Mentholatum.

MENTHOLATUM

2 GARGLE Thor-oughly--Throw Your Head Way Back, Allowing a Little to Trickle Down Your Throat.

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12 Bayer-Tablets of Aspirin Genuine

3 Repeat Gargle and Do Not Rinse Mouth, Allow Gargle to Remain on Membranes of the Throat for Prolonged Effect.