Marshall County Independent, Volume 5, Number 2, Plymouth, Marshall County, 23 December 1898 — Page 3

I AFELOITSLO j BY HENRY XESFIELD. j

CHAPTER VIII. "WLit horse was that I heard galloping about In the night?" inquired Mr. Hull on the following morning. "Did any break out of the paddock?" "Xo, sir; it was Baynes," replied one of the hands. "He rode up in the night." "Baynes? What did he come back for?" "He ?aid they were all drunk and lighting down at Sullivan's, and he could find no place to sleep in. so he rode home." "lie must go bark at once then; I can't have those pack-horses hanging about t'own there for days together." "He has gone, sir. He started off at daylight." "That's all right, then," said Mr. Hall. When the men who slept in Bob Luke's hut got up that morning, they noticed that he had already gone out. "I wonder what made Luke turn out po early?" one of them remarked; but no further notice was taken of his absence until breakfast time. "What's Leconie of Luke?" asked a stockman, as there was no sign of him when that meal was nearly fmihed. "You had better put that slew on the fire to keep hot for him. Maybe ho is out after son.e of the hcrr-s." Dinner-time came, hut no Lukrt: and shortly afterwards Mr. Hull happened to want him. "Xo one has seen him this morning, sir," v.-as the anr,wer he received. 4,Ve can't think what's become of him." "Xo one has sen him?" repeated Mr. Hall. -What do you mean? He fclcpt eu the station last night, I suppose?" "He slept In my hut." replied the man, "and turned in as usual last night. I noticed that in particular, because he was the last in bed. and had to put out the iight. When we awoke this morning, he was already up and out, but we didn't take much notice of that." "Had his bed been slept in?" "I suppose so, sir. I never looked. He went to 1x-d. I am sure, as I lay awake for a good ten minutes after I turned in, and I never heard him go out." "Come with me to the hut and show ine his I'tink." continued Mr. Hall. The bunk that Luke was in the habit of sheping in had evidently been used, but the blankets had not been turned down. "There is his hat," cried a man. "and there are his boots on the ground! That's odd anyhow!" "Perhaps he put on another pair," suggested the squatter. "Xo, sir. Bob Luke had only this one pair, which, as you see, are pretty well wo;n through. He was saying only the other day that he wished the drays wo lid hurry up, as he wanted a new pair." "It certainly is very singular." mused Mr. Hall. "He hadn't been drinking, had he?" "Xo, sir. He's never had a drop of anything since he s been on the station that I ki.ow of." "Did he ever seem queer in his head or strange in any way?" 'Never a bit, sir. Rather the other way on. There's nothing wrong with Bob. He's no more chanky than I am." ' "Well, some of the men had better go out at once and have a look for him. If we do not find him by sundown, I will send over to Mount Gipps and inform the police-sergeant. There are black trackers there who will soon trace him." Men were accordingly sent out in every direction, and the country was scoured for several miles around; but no sign of B Luke could be discovered. Mr. Hall began to feel uneasy, wondering what could have become of the man, and. when evening approached. Jack Hall started off to inform the police at Mount Gipps, some forty miles away. Towards nightfall the pack-horses arrived with Tom Baynes from Sullivan's public-house. Mr. Hall met them as they pulled up at the store. "This is a very strange affair about Bob Luke, isn't it, Tom?" he remarked. "Yes, sir," replied Baynes, busying himself in taking off some of the packs. "I heard of it down at Sullivan'sfrom one of the chaps. I wonder where he can have got to?" "You came back to the station in the night. I suppose you saw nothing of Lim?" "No sir; but I didn't look about me much.' as it was all I could do to see the track." 'You galloped fast enough up past the huts. I heard you from the house, and tlought it was a horse broken loose from the paddock." "Yes, sir; the old mare started off with me when she got near home, and J couldn't hold her in." "And you saw nothing of Luke?" his master again asked. "No, sir nothing!" "What made you come back from Sullivan's?" Mr. Hall had already been told the reason, and Baynes' reply was simply a confirmation of what he had heard. The men at the public-house were all

more or less drunk and fighting, and he could find no place to sleep in. The old mare was handy, as he had left her in the stock-yard with a good feed, and ho thought he would be able to find his way back to the station, and return early to the drays the next morning. Mr. Hall became more and more perplexed about Luke's disappearance. "If he had been drinking heavily,"

i he paid to his wife, "no one would feel in the least surprised. But the man was sober enough, and showed no signs of eccentricity, so far as I can find out. It beats anything I ever experienced. Perhaps he will turn up in the morning, and we shall find a very simple solution to the puzz'e after all." The morning came and went, and day after day passed by, but no Robert Luke appeared. The mounted police, with the black trackers, sroured the country for over thirty miles around, and left hardly a rock or a patch of scrub unsearched. Every building on the station had been examined, and there only remained Tom Baynes' hut to visit. Baynes was the first to suggest that it should be searched. "There's been a lot of talk. I know, sir," he said, "about my wife's shutting herself up so. Poor thing, she can't help that I wish she could gel about so I should like tin? rgeant to satisfy himself that Luke isn't in hiding there!" "Xobody would be foolish enough to suppose he was, Baynes." replied Mr. Hall, smiling at the young man's anxiety; "but we had better. a; you say, look everywhere while are about it." Mr. Hall had really a secret desire to behold this hidden treasure in the way of a wife, who wax so persistently sheltered from the vulgar gaze. Accordingly he made one of the party to examine the hut. When the troopers knocked at the door, it was standing a little way oprn. "Come in." paid a low voice. Half-sitting, half-reclining upon the bed which occupied one corner of the one room the hut possessed, dressed in tho ordinary printed calico gown of a working-woman, a shawl over hnr feet, and some needlework on which slip was engaged upon her lap. 'was Mrs. Baynes. Her jet-black hair was neatly smoothed in front and braided at the back, and her pale face and nervous manner denoted the invalid. She wore colored spectacles. "Very sorry to intrude, Mrs. Baynes, I am sure," said Mr. Hall, "but wo are compelled to search everywhere foi this lost man. Your husband has no doubt told you about it?" "Yes, yes," replied Mrs. Baynes. "It seems very strange that he should have gone on like that!" "What a nice woman." thought Mr. Hall, "and a good-looking one, too! It's a thousand pities that she should bo broken down. Xo wonder Baynes is careful of her." Then he said aloud. "If we were only certain that he had gone off somewhere, it would be satisfactory, but we can find no traces of him anywhere. Besides, a man docs not run off in the middle of the night without his boots, leaving two or three months' wages behind him, unless he has a very important reason for doing so." There was very little for the sergeant to inspect in the hut a deal table, two rough benches, the bed upon which Mrs. Baynes reclined, and which tad no hangings or drapery upon it that could conceal anything, and one or two small boxes containing clothes. These articles made up the entire furniture of the apartment. The walls, which were of roughly-hewn slabs nailed to the frame of the hut, were carefully papered over with old Sydney Morning Heralds, while the two small windowframes were covered with calico. A hut which is built for the dual purpose of cooking and sleeping in generally has a large fireplace which entirely occupies one end of it. Such a one had this, and upon the hearth there blazed a log-fire, beneath a kettle which hung from an iron bar. Altogether the visit to the hut did not occupy above five minutes. The sergeant declared himself satisfied, and Mrs. Baynes, rising from the bed, begged Mr. Hall to stay and accept of some tea. "The kettle is already on the boil, sir," she said. "Pray do not disturb yourself. Mrs. Baynes," the squatter answered, as she stood up. "We are too sorry for having had to come at all!" When the search-party had withdrawn, the sergeant remarked to Mr. Hall "That's the woman, I suppose, I've heard so much talk about the f-ne people said was mad and shut up here!" "I dare say," replied Mr. Hall. "People say all sorts of things. She's the cook's wife, and is a hopeles3 invalid, but she is very good at her n.edle, and my wife i3 uncommonly glad to have her here. Poor thing, she looks very white and ill!" The disappearance of Bob Luke remained a complete enigma. The colonial papers, under the heading of "The Mysterious Disappearance on the Barrier Ranges," suggested all

sorts of solutions to the riddle, aid penny-a-liners found in it a largo scope for their imaginations. All the remarkable disappearances that had ever been recorded were brought to light again, and. as a last loophole out of the difficulty, it was suggested that the man had for some urgent reason determined to lose his identity, and so had gone off, leaving his boots behind him in order to throw people off the scent. lake most other mysteries, this soon became a thing of the past. The subject at last grew monotonous, and in a very few months people had ceased to think any more about it. What, after all, was a bushman more cr less of whom no one knew anything and for whom nobody cared?

CHAPTER IX. Sullivan's public-house, the thorn in every squatter's side for thirty miles around, was a small wooden shanty consisting of four or five rooms. At the back was a building containing ten or twelve sleeping bunks. This was called the dead-house, as it was used chiefly for putting customers into when they were dead drunk. Outside the house, facing the mail-track, was a verandah, if a continuation of tha shingled roof supported by rough posts stuck into the bare earth could be dignified by the name. Beneath the shade of this rough verandah, one hot afternoon, lay two or three drunken wretches overcome by the fumes of the lightning rum. Inside the bar were five or six bushmcn busily engaged in throwing dice for drinks. "Odd man out" was the game, and at tho rate of one shilling per nobbier the amusemert could hardly be considered a cheap one. especially when the after-effects of the "lightning" upon the consumer were taken into consideration. Very few station hands on their way dorn to town ever succeeded in getting past Sullivan's: some had attempted it a score of times and failed. Even before the unhappy pigeon had arrived 1 !i r news was brought that "Long .lim" wa.s "going down to Sydney with a big cheque." "Let me see .Tim must have been over two years now on the station sim-e he had his last burst." the bloated-looking ruffian of a landlord would remark. "I dare say he's got over a hundred pounds!" And when Long .Tim hove in sight he was sure to bo hailed by half a score of loafers and pressed to stop the night. Xo he had determined to push on to the next stage. His horse was fresh, und he was anxious to get on. Well, he would stop and have a plate of soup and a b'le? Xo he had got soma "lucker" with him. "At any rate you'll have a drink?" some one would cry. Xo, he was "on the teetotal tack." "Well, you ain't a-goin' off like that without shoutin', .Tim!" one of the loafers would suggest. "Shout?" the pigeon would cry, thus proled in his weakest part. "Of con r 50 I'll shout! There's nothing mean about me, anyhow. What are you all going to have? Drinks all round, and one for yourself, Sullivan." "You must have a small drain, too. Jim, just to show that there's no ill will, you know," the landlord would suggest. "Oh, not for me, Sullivan! I know your game of old. Well, just to show there ain't no animosity, give me a small drop of what you've got. Here's better luck!" (To be Continued.) RUSSIA AND PAX VOBISCUM. In Its Policy of Spoliation There lias Keen No Sign of l'fuce. The bishops and the Salvationists and all the sentimentalists are still busy with their hosannas, of course, but there is not a man in England who has to deal practically with affairs who believes that the scheme is honest. Why, he asks, was the moment chosen by Russia to declare in favor of peace? Has not her policy for years past, in the far east especially, made directly for war? She has been aggressive, unscrupulous, untruthful in her dealings wüh China, with Japan and with England; she scared Japan out of the Liaotung peninsula, and claimed it for herself; she bluffed England out of Manchuria, and she now claims it for her sphere of influence. in all this policy of spoliation thera was no sign of peace, nothing that suggested the temper of conciliation. If we had had a statesman with grit at our foreign office the czar's government would have received an ultimatum months ago, and even Lord Salisbury could not have withstood the indignation of the country many weeks longer. At an early date there must have been war between this country and Russia, with the alternative that Russia should give up her pretensions in northern China and her sinister policy at Pekin. The issue was clear, but Count Mouravieff evades it by coming forward smilingly with this evangel from his august master. "Let us forget all the past," he seems to say, "all the lies I have told you, all the tricks I have played upon you. Think no more of the fortifications at Batoum or Port Arthur, trouble no more about the huge navy Russia is building. "We have worried each other a great deal lately. Let us have peace now that I have got the spoil." It is all very pretty and very pleasing, but this form of repentance at the eleventh hour is not likely to deceive any man of sense in England. From the patriotic English point of view this rescript is a fraud. Saturday Review. A bee's wings are said to beat the air at the rate of l'JO strokes per second, and to propel the bee at the rate of CO miles an hour.

iA SUPiE CELTIC KING.

THE BIG IRISH BOSS OF THE TRANSVAAL. t;ilün)i:tm 1 His Name and He Is ttie Introlucer ;f Foreigners." Knows When to Keej Still A Democratic aboli. (Special Letter. Two Americans, one representing a Dayton, O., carriage factory, and tu5 ether a marLle quarry, have recently been in the Transvaal. The former while there attempted to sell Ooni Paul a phaeton and the other desired to build a mausoleum for the president and his family. Their efforts to reach the presence of the celebrated Dutchman revealed the existence of a very important and interesting personage in Pretoria. This wis no other than an Irishman, named P. Gillingham, who. besides being a baker and justice of the peace, also enjoys relations with the president, which may best be defined, perhaps, as "introducer of foreigners." Mr. Gillingham gained a great prestige with Kruegcr by opposing the Jameson raid, and since that time it has been necessary for anyone desiring to carry a point with the president to approach first his most intimate friend, P. Gillingham, Irishman, baker and justice of the peace. After much diiliculty the two Americans succeeded in obtaining an audience with this potentate and found that he had already posted himself as to their mission. Kvantually they were ushered through the bakery into a small sitting-room, where the president's right bower icceives all his callers, and met a man with keen blue eyes, light hair, mustache and chin beard, of well-set figure, square shoulders and speaking good, pure English. He greeted them warmly and get right down to business. "I've told his honor about you." he said, "and he is anxious to meet you. If you will come to my house at 0 o'clock tomorrow morning I will Lake you down and you can talk to him as long as he desires. He is in good humor now, and will talk if you know your business. Gillingham was not disposed to speak of himself and evaded all questions bearing on politics, but told his callers with no little pride that he was but 39 years old. He was born at the cape, of Irish parents, and there absorbed the customs of the Dutch so thoroughly that he is regarded in Pretoria as a stanch burgher and a good Dutchma n. Though born under the English flag he has no love for it. and that is the secret of his popularity with President Krueger, who, though a mighty shrewd old hunter and politician, has points of weakness bordering on fatuity. Gillingham made his first coup with PETER GILLINGHAM. Crueger at the time of the Jameson raid, when England threatened to wipe out the little republic. With the hosts of England arrayed against the Transvaal, and no friends, this plucky Irishman got together some of his countrymen and offered to raise a regiment to fight for it against the British. Furthermore, he communicated with Irishmen in America and proposed that they equip forces to send down to aid the Boers. Ooni Paul, who is just as generous as he is vindictive, was quite overcome by this offer, and he has ever since kept a warm spot In his heart for the Irish. More than this, however, Gillingham has a long head, knows when to advise, when to keep quiet, and is so genial and adaptable that he is always "in the know." This is appreciated by Oom Paul, to whom the Irishman is loyal, for such, is the political strife In the Transvaal that Krueger is often at a loss to know whom to trust. Gillingham has no other position than justice of the peace, seeks for no public honors, Is never written about and poses as a strictly neutral person. In this capacity Krueger accepts his advice on the most important national and international questions, and the only way he profits is by concessions. Concessions are granted for the most absurd purposes. One man ha3 the exclusive right to make jam in the Transvaal. The dynamite concessionaires give the government five shillings on each case and clear about 50 shillings. Such a high duty is put upon the American article, which is vastly superior in quality, as to practically exclude it. The unsubsidized press is very bitter against Mr. Krueger on account of this concession business, and goes so far a3 to ask how the president could amas3 a fortune of more than $1,009,000 on a salary of 7,000, and how his son-in-law, Eloff, could build a $250,000 palace on no salary. Gillingham is in the front rank of concessionaires. Ho lives In more simplicity even than Mr. Krueger, who dines with his coachman. His two sons, Joseph and

Parnell, attend the town school (though ?.Ir. Gillingham intends giving them a college education,), and they may be seen at times behind the counter. Gillingham lives plainly and dines plainly, his only indulgence being good cigars and a fine pair of horses. His team is usually on the go all day, for he is in no one place for many minutes. He is closeted with Mr. Krueger more frequently than any one else, and the president often calls at the bakeshop and chats in the rear room with the proprietor about doings in the rand. Though seldom seen actively engag' ed in his place of business nowadays, no false pride absents Gillingham, and when the Americans called in the evening to bid him farewell he was engaged in wrapping up some hot buns for a comely Boer maiden.

HOOS1ER BOY RIVALS SANDOW Richmond (Ind.) Letter. This city Is the home of a young man who in time promises to be the rival of Sandow, and who now is capable of many feats of strength much out of the ordinary. He is Harry L. Williams. Williams does not bear the appearance of being stronger than the ordinary man, as he weighs but 1 IS pounds and i.3 only five feet seven inches tall, but the strengta, of his chest, neck and rrms Is marHARRY L. WILLIAMS. vclous. He is twenty-six years old and is the son of rr.ther small patents of Scotch-Irish descent, neither of them possessed of more strengJh than their appcaranc would indicate. Neither are the other sons of the family possessed of strength sufficient to distinguish them from other young men. Williams has always been strong, but it is only within the lr.st five years, since reaching his majority, that be has come to be known as a young Hercules. He Is growing stronger all the tim. The following is a partial list of the feats performed by Williams, none of them giving him any particular trouble: Holding a 175-pound dumbbell above the head at arm's length; lifting 1,400 pounds with harness; twisting two packs of playing cards in two with the greatest case; raising a ISO-pound man above the head; lying down to let two ordinary men, or one weighing 200 pounds, stand on his neck; driving a sixty-penny cut spike into a two-Inch plank with th hand, afterward pulling it out with the teeth; bursting a bowlder with the fist; breaking by expansion of the chest a chain that will stand a pressure of between 300 and 400 pounds; lifiing 1,000 pounds, hand hold; breaking a clothesline tied around the bare breast by lung expansion; allowing two men. while he walk3 around, to swing on a 17J-pound dumbbell held across the back, making a total weight of abort 500 pounds; balancing a 173-pound dumbbell on the head; lifting a barrel of flour with ore finger; lifting a barrel of salt from the ground into a wagon. Williams has never taken any special training, but has a system of exercise of his own. He neither uses dumbbells no Indian clubs in his exercise, but has a system of twenty-two gyrations that servo to develop the muscles. He has never been sick, is temperate and possessed great endurance. His lung capacity is 410 cubic inches, the extent of expansion and contraction being seven inches. The neck is so well developed that'a seventeen and a half inch collar is just a comfortable fit which is fully two sizes larger than that worn by men of William's stature. IT IS NOT A CHURCH. At first sight there is nothing extraordinary about this illustration. It TIIS COTTAGE. Is apparently a little village church, the counterpart of which can be found in hundreds of hamlets. But the curious part of the business Is that this is not a church, but a cottage. Visitors to the neighborhood of Woodbridge, Suffolk, invariably .take tke building which is known as the Tattlngstonc Wonder for a church. It is a make-believe affair altogether, in fact, for the solid-looking tower has only three sides. In Hungary there are thousands of villages and hundreds of small towns without n, doctor within ten miles.

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11111 iu im i. MASONIC. PLYMOUTH KILVv INING LODGE, No. 149, F. and A.M.; meets first and third Friday evenings of each month. Daniel McDonald,V.M. Tohn Curbciiy, Sec. PLYMOUTH CHAPTER, No qo,, R. A. M.; meets second Friday evening1 of each month. L. Sotithworth II. P. J. C.Jilson, Sec. PLYMOUTH COMMAND'RY, No 26 K. T.; meets second 2nd ' arth Thursday of each month D McDonald E. C.; L.TanncrRec PLYMOUTH CHAPTER, No 26, O. E. S.; meets first and third Tuesdays of each month. MrsMary L. Thayer W. M.Mrs. G. Aspinall. Sec ODD FELLOWS. AMER1CUS LODGE, No. 91 meet every Thursday evening at their lode rooms on Michigan st. Ed Campbell X. G. Chas. Shearer Sec KNIGHTS OP PYTHIAS. HYPEJUOX LODGE, No. 117 meets every Monday night in Castle Hall. Lou Allman C. C. Chas, S, Price I. of R. and S. I'OKESTERS. PLYMOUTH COURT, No. 499; meets the second a::d fourth Fii-tl-iy evenings f each month, in K. of 1. hall. Elmer Wcrnti C. R. Daniel Cramer Sec. HYPERION TEMPLE RATIII50XE SISTERS, meets first and third Friday of each, month Mrs J. G. Davis, Mrs. Rem Armstiong K. O. T. M. PLYMOUTH TEXT, No. 27; meets every Tuesday evening at K. O. T. M. hall. Dan. Jacohy, Com. James Hoffman, Record Keeper. L. O. T. M. WIDE AWAKE HIVE, No. 67; meets every Monday night at K. (). T. M. hall on Michigan street. Mrs. Flora T. Ellis, Commander, llessie Wilkinson, Record Keeper. HIVE NO. 2S; meets every Wedncsday evening in K. O. T. M. hall. Mrs. Maggie Eogle, Com., Alma E. Lawrence, Record Keeper. ROYAL ARCANUM. Meets first and third ' Wednesday evenings of each month in Simon's hall. Moses M. Lauer, Regent. Francis McCrory, Sec. WOODMEN OF THE WORLD Meets first and third Wednesday evenings of each month in K. of P. hall. C. M. Kasper, C. C. Joe Eich, Clerk 0. A. k. MILES II. TIH BETS POST, G. A. R; meets every first and third Monday evenings in Simons hall D wight L, Dickerson Com,. Charlie Wilcox, Adjt. SONS OF VETERANS. Meets ever' second and fourth Fri day evenings in G. A. R. hall J. A. Shunk,' Captain. Cora B. North, ist Lieut. CHURCHES. P HE SB Y T K ft I A X CII URCHTreachiDg at 10:30 a. ra. and 7 p. m. Sabbath school at noon. Junior Endeavor at 4 p. m. Senior Endeavor at 6 p. m. Frayer meeting every Thursday evening. Teacher's meeting im mediately following. Rev. Thornberry, Pastor. METHODIST Class meeting every Sunday raorniDg at t:30 o'clock. Preaching at 10:30 a. m., and 7:30 p. m. Sunday school at 12 m. Epworth league ai 0:30 p. m. Frayer meeting every Thureday evening at 7:00 p, ra. L. 8. Smith, pastor. .1. W. Wiltfonj?, claea leader. I). Frank Redd, Sabbath school superintendent. FUGTEST AN T E I'lSCO PA L. St Thomas' church. Re?. Win. Wirt Raymond, rector. Sunday services, 10:30 a. m., 7:30 p. in. Sunday service, at noon . Services Wednesday evenings at 7:30. Communion on holy days at 10 a. m. CI1UHCII OF (lOD-Ciarro and Water ste. Regular services 10:30 a. m., each Sunday. Third Sunday in each month preaching ty .1. L. Wince; fourth Sunday by II. V. Keed. 10:30 Sunday morning and 7:30 Sunday evening. Sunday school at 12 o'clock; Eva Hsilsback Snpt. Prayer meeting at 7:30 each Thursday exening. U N I TED BKßTIIEUN. Sunday 9:30 a. m., class meeting. 10:30 a. mn and 7:30 p, m., preaching by the pastor. 11:30 a. m., Sunday School. 5:00 p. m. Junior Y. l C. IT. meeting. 0:00 p. m., Senior Y. P. C. U. meeting. A cordia! invitation is extended to tho public. CATHOLIC CUUHCII-Church i? held on Sundays as follows: First mass at 7:30 a. m , second mass at 10 a. m. Veppera at 3 p. m. Week day mas9 at 7:45. Father Moench pastor. ARE YOU ALIVE To the fact that a '.I successful business men crciVt thelr success to the lit eral isj of printiV ink? Vv'um uot yrctlt bj th?ir exyeneaef

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