The Syracuse Journal, Volume 3, Number 50, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 13 April 1911 — Page 7

1/3 STORY The Courage of Captain Plum By ' JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD (Copyright 1908 by Bobba-Morrlll (to.) 24 * SYNOPSIS. Capt. Nathaniel Plum of the sloop Typhoon, lands secretly on Beaver island, stronghold of the Mormons. Obadiah Price, Mormon councilor, confronts him, tells him he is expected, and bargains for the ammunition aboard the sloop. He binds Nat by a solemn oath to deliver a package to Franklin Pierce, president of the United States. Near Price’s cabin Nat sees the frightened face of a young woman who disappears in the darkness, leaving an odor of lilacs. It develops that Nat’s visit to the island is to demand settlement of the king. Strang, for the looting of ids sloop by Mormons. Price shows Nat the king’s palace, and through a window he sees the lady of the lilacs, who Price says is the king’s seventh wife. Calling at the king’s office Nat is warned by a young woman that hfs life is, in danger. Strang professes Indignation when he hears Nat’s grievance and promises to punish the guilty. Nat rescues Neil, who is being publicly whipped, and the king orders the sheriff, Arbor Croche, to pursue and kill the two men. Plum learns that Marion, the girl of the lilacs, is Neil’s sister. The two men plan to escape on Nat’s sloop and take Marlon and Winnsome, daughter of Arbor Croche, and sweetheart of Neil. Nat discovers that the sloop is gone. Marion tells him that his ship has been seized by the Mormons. She begs him to leave the island, telling him that nothing can save her from Strang, whom she is doomed to marry. Plum finds Price raving mad. Recovering, he tells Nat that Strang is doomed, that armed men are descending on the Island. Nat learns that Marion has been summoned to the castle by Strang. Nat kills Arbor Croche, and after a desperate fight with the king, leaves him for dead. The avenging host from the mainland descends oft, St. James. Neil and .Nat take a part In the battle and the latter is wounded. Strang, whom Nat thought he had killed, orders him thrown into a dungeon. He finds Neil a fellow prisoner. They overhear the Mormon jury deciding their fate. A bribed jailer brings the prisoners word of Winnsome and Marion. Bound and gagged the two men are taken out to sea in a boat. They are left to suffer the “straight death” on a wild section of the coast. Just as they had given up hope the men are. rescued by Marion and Winnsome. Nat faints, and • when he recovers Marion is gone. He return to Beaver, island to find Marion. (CHAPTER Xll.—Continued.) “I have come back for you!” he breathed. She shuddered against his breast, and he raised her face between his two hands and kissed her until she drew away from him, crying softly. “You must wait —you must wait!” He saw now in her face an agony that appalled him. He would have gone to her again, but there came loud voices from the forest, and recovering his pistol he sprang to the door. Half a hundred paces away were Obadiah and the king’s sheriffs. They had stopped and the councilor was expostulating excitedly with the men, evidently trying to keep them from the cabin. Suddenly one of the three broke past him and ran swiftly toward the open door, and with a shriek of warning to Nathaniel the old councilor drew a pistol and fired point blank in the sheriff’s back. In” another instant the two men behind had fired and Obadiah fell forward upon his face. With a yell of rage Nathaniel leaped from the door. He heard Marion cry out his name, but his fighting blood was stirred and he did not stop. Obadiah had given up his life for him, for Marion, and he was mad with a desire to wreak vengeance upon the murderers. The first man lay where he had fallen, with Obadiah’s bullet through his back. The other two fired again as Nathaniel rushed down upon them. He heard the zip of one of the balls, which came so close that it stung his cheek. “Take that!” he cried. He fired, still running—once, twice three times and one of the two men crumpled down as though a powerful blow had broken his legs under him. The other two turned into the path and ran. Nathaniel caught a glimpse of a frightened, boyish face, and something of mercy prompted him to hold the shot he was about to send through his lungs. “Stop!" he shouted. “Stop!” He aimed at the fugitive’s legs and fired. “Stop!” The boyish sheriff was lengthening the distance between them and Nathaniel halted to make sure 3f his last ball. He was about to shoot Then there came a sharp command from down the path and a file of men burst into view, running at doublequick. He saw the flash of a asoar, the gleam of brass buttons, the blue glare of the setting sun on leveled carbines, and he stopped, shouldei to shoulder with the man ne had been pursuing. Tor a moment he stared as the man with the naked saber approached. Then he sprang toward him with a joyful cry of recogA’tlcn. “Sherly—Lieutenant Sharlv--don’t Xvu Fvw me?” Tne i>wutenant had dropped the ot bls saber. He advance 4 step, his face filled wltt aatonrshuent. -Plum!” he orted incredulously, -la x you 7”

For the moment Nathaniel could only wring the other’s hand. He tried to speak but his breath choked him. “I told you in Chicago that 1 was going to blow up this damned island —if you wouldn’t do it for me— ’’ he gasped at last “I’ve had—a hell of a time—" “You look it!" laughed the lieutenant. “We got our orders the second day after you left to ‘Arrest Strang, and break up the Mormon kingdom!* We’ve got Strang aboard the Michigan. But he’s dead.” "Dead!” “He was shot in the back by one of his own men as we were bringing him up the gang-way. The fellow who killed him has given himself up, and says that he did it because Strang had him publicly whipped day before yesterday. I’m up here hunting for a man named Obadiah Price. Do you know —*’ “What db you want with Obadiah Price?” “The president of the United States wants him. That’s all I know. Where is he?” “Back there —dead or very badly wounded! We’ve just had a fight with the king’s men —” The lieutenant broke in with a sharp command to his men. “Quick, lead us to him, Captain Plum! If he’s not dead—” He started off at a half run beside Nathaniel. “£ord, it’s a pretty mess if he is!” he added breathlessly. Without pausing he called back over his shoulder: “Regan, fall out and return to the ship. Tell the captain that Obadiah Price is badly wounded and that we want the surgeon on the run." A turn in the path brought them to the opening where the fight had occurred. Marion was on her knees beside the old councilor. Nathaniel hurried ahead of the lieutenant and his men. The girl glanced up at him and his heart filled with dread at the terror in her eyes. “Is he dead?” “No —but —” Her voice trembled with tears. Nathaniel did not let her finish. Gently he raised her to her feet as the lieutenant came up. “You must go to the cabin, sweetheart,” he whispered. Even in this moment of excitement and death his great love drove all else from his eyes, and the blood surged wtt “I back for you!” into Marion’s pale cheeks as she tremblingly gave her hand. He led her to the door and held her for a moment in his arms. “Strang is dead,” he said softly. In a few words he told her what had happened and turned back to the door, leaving her speechless. “If he is dying—you will tell me—” she called after him. “Yes, yes, I will tell you.” He ran back into the opening. The lieutenant had doubled his coat under Obadiah’s head and his face was pale as he looked up at Nathaniel. The latter saw in his eyes what his lips kept silent. The officer held something in his hand. It was the mysterious package which Captain Plum had taken his oath to deliver to the president of the United States. “T don’t dare move until the surgeon comes,” said the lieutenant “He wants to speak to you. I believe, if he has anything to say you had. better hear it now.” Obadiah’s eyes opened as Nathaniel knelt beside him and from between his thin lips there came faintly the old, gurgling chuckle. “Nat!” he breathed. His thin hand sought his companion’s and clung to it tightly. “We have won. The vengeance of God —has come!” In these last moments all madness had left the eyes of Obadiah Price. “I want to tell you—” he whispered, and Nathaniel bent low. “I have given him the package. It is evidence I have gathered—all these years—to destroy the Mormon kingdom.” For a few moments he seemeu struggling to command all his strength. “A good many years ago,” he said, as if speaking to himself, “I loved a girl—like Marion, and she loved me—as Marion loves you. Her people were Mormons, and they went to Kirtland—and I them. We planned to escape and go east, for my Jean was good and beautiful, and hated the Mormons as I hated them. But they caught us and — thought. — they — killed—" T.he old man’s lips twitched and a convulsive shudder shook his body. “When everything came back to me I was older—much older,” he went on. “My hair was white. I was like an old man. My people had found me and they ..old me that I had been mad for thret years, Nat—mad—mad—mad! aod hat t great surgeon had operated oci my head, where they struck me—and wrought me back to reason. Nat —Nat—He strained to raise himself, gasping excitedly! “Cod.

I I was like you then, a went 1 back to fight for my Jean. She wag gone. Nobody knew me, for I was ss i old man. I hunted from settlement M I settlement In my madness I became i a Mormon, for vengeance—in hop* ol finding her. I was rich, and I became powerful. I was made an elder be- • cause of my gold. Then I found—” I A moan trembled on the old man's , lips. ’ “ —they had forced her to marry—- ■ the son of a Mormon---” He stopped, and for a moment his eyes seemed filling with the glazed i shadows of death. He roused himself : almost fiercely. i “But he loved my Jean, Nat—he loved her as I loved her —and he was ; r good man!” he whispered shrilly. > “Quick —quick—I must tell you—they had tried to escape from Missouri and the Danites killed him —and Joseph Smith wanted Jean and at the last moment she killed herself to save her honor —as —Marion —was going—todo, and she left two children —” He coughed and blood flecked his lips. “She left—Marion and Nell!” He sank back, ashen white and still, and with a cry Nathaniel turned to the lieutenant. The officer ran forward with a flask in his hand. “Give him this!” The touch of liquor to Obadiah’s lips revived him. He whispered weakly: “The children, Nat—l tried to find them —and years after—l did —in Nauvoo. The man and woman who had killed the father in their own house had taken them and were raising them as their own. I went mad! , Vengeance—vengeance—l lived for it, year after year. I wanted the children—but if I took them all vrould be lost. I followed them, watched them, loved them—and they loved me. 1 would wait—wait—until my vengeance would fall like the hand of God, and then I would free them, and tell them how beautiful their mother was. When Joseph Smith was killed and the split came the old folks followed Strang—and I—l, too —” He rested a moment, breathing heavily. “I brought my Jean with me and buried her up there on the hill —the middle grave, Nat, the middle grave— Marion’s mother.” Nathaniel pressed the liquor to the old man’s lips again. “My vengeance was at hand —I was almost ready—when Strang learned a part of the secret,” he continued with an effort. “He found the old people were murderers. When Marion would not become his wife he told her what they had done. He showed her the evidence! He threatened them with death unless Marion became his wife. His sheriffs watched them night and day. He named the hour of theii doom —unless Marion yielded to him. And to save them, her supposed parents —to keep the terrible kndwledgq of their crime from Neil—Marion — was —going—to— sacrifice —herself—when—” Again he stopped. His breath was coming more faintly. “I understand,” > whispered Nathaniel. “I understand —’’ Obadiah’s dimming eyes gazed at him steadily. “I thought my vengeance would come —in time—to save her, Nat. But it failed. I knew of one other way and when all seemed lost—l took it. I killed the .old people—the murderers of her father —of my Jean! I knew that would destroy Strang’s power—” In a sudden spasm of strength he lifted his head. His voice came in a hoarse, excited whisper. “You won’t tell Marion—you won’t tell Marion that I killed them—” “No—never.” Obadia/i fell back with a relieved | sigh. After a moment he added. “In a chest in the cabin there is a letter for Marion. It tells her about her mother—and the gold there—is for her—and Neil—” His eyes closed. A shudder passed through his form. 1 “Marion—” he breathed. “Marion!” Nathaniel rose to his feet and ran to the cabin door. ’ “Marion!” he called. Blinding tears shut out the vision of the girl from his eyes. He pointed, looking from her, and she, knowing what he meant, sped past him to the old councilor. In the great low room in which Obadiah Ptice had spent so many years planning his vengeance Captain Plum waited. After a time, the girl came back. There was great pain in her voice as she stretched out her arms to him blindly, sobbing his name. “Gone —gone —they’re all gone now —but Nell!” Nathaniel held out his arms. 4 “Only Neil,” —he cried, “only Neil— Marion—?” , “And you—you—you—” Her arms were around bis neck, he held her throbbing against his breast “And you—” She raised her face, glorious in Its , love. “If you want me—still.” , And he whispered: , “For ever and for ever!" THE END. As to the Frank. In a discussion of the franking prlvi liege Senator Money, the leader of the minority, remarked: “The frank is a i great privilege.” He went on to expatiate, but what be said, was lost In i the remark of a gallery occupant, i who got In with the statement that . “the frank Is to help to get men back ■ to congress." When one observes the quantities of documents being sent out under frank frcm the national > capital he Is inclined ’ o agree with i the man who made that statement.— , SL Louis Star.

CAP x and BELLS WIFE’S WAY OF ECONOMIZING J Generously Offers to Cut Her Husband's Hair When He Suggests Cutting Expenses. “Bills, bills, bills!” cried the distracted man. “They come morning, afternoon and night. But what doesn’t come is the money to pay them with." “Never mind, dear,” said his wife, iweetly, as she pirouetted before the mirror in a new hat. “I expect it’ll turn up.” “You women seem to think money turns up as easily as a handle turns round!" growled the harassed hubby. “But it doesn’t. Look here, Julia,” i he added, firmly, “you and I will have i to economize.” Julia stopped pirouetting and looked serious. “How, dear?” she asked. “We need everything we have.” “Nonsense! We can surely, each of us, make one small sacrifice. For instance, in future I shall shave myself. Now, what will you do?” She considered for a moment. Then she exclaimed: “I know, dear! I’ll cut your hair!” Evidence of It. Two young women of Wayne were talking about men and things—principally men—the other day, when one of them remarked with strange shyness: “You ought to have heard Mr. Elliott’s ringing speech to me last night.” Her friend looked more than a little astonished. “Speech,” she repeated, “I didn’t know he ever made a speech in his life.” “O, but he did,” the first maiden insisted; “I—l can’t repeat the speech, but I can show you the ring.” Odious Comparison. A Boston woman, who atttained much prominence in the campaign for woman’s suffrage, once said at a public meeting that she thought T. B. Aidrich was effeminate. The remark was repeated to Aldrich as a joke, whereupon he very dryly remarked: “Yes, so I am—compared to.her.” — Success. With Poor Success. “Talk about man!” exclaimed the suffragist “What has man ever done for woman?” “He’s furnished her with a model she’s trying durned hard to imitate,” came a voice from the rear of the hall. Between Friends. Alice —I thought Mr. Smart had good literary taste until he sent me that silly novel. Kate—Oh, that doesn’t necessarily indicate his taste, dear; it merely represents his opinion of yours. A SAD LOSS, f If t fcr / “I’m mighty sorry that pretty little brown-eyed nurse has got married,” said the visiting surgeon. “You didn’t happen to be in love with her yourself, did you, doctor?” asked the chief interne. “No, but she had away of prolong- i Inga case, without endangering the life of the patient, that was very gratifying and helpful.” Consistency of Criticism. “There’s one thing I don’t like about 1 Brown.” “What is that?” “Why, the confounded, low-browed, half-baked idiot is always calling < somebody names.” 1 Trials of Modern Art. Artist —There! My latest masterpiece! Patron —Splendid! For the humor- 1 lets’ exhibition, I suppose? i Very Likely. Patience —Peggy says she likes the way Will holds her during a dance.” Patrice—That’s the reason they sit i out so many in the conservatory, I suppose.— Yonkers Statesman.

REMINDED HER OF GRANDPA | Man Returning to Native Town, Saying Everybody Looked Older, Is Given Hard Jolt. “I’m mighty glad to meet you again,” he said. “Do you realize that | it is nearly eight years since I left this town?” “Oh,” she replied, “is it as long as that? I suppose you wouldn’t care to return here to live, would you?” “No. I’m afraid it would seem pretty dull, after living in a big city. There hasn’t been much change here. Everybody that I used to know is older looking—that’s about all.” “Yes, I have no doubt that yO’u notice it much more than we do.” “Very likely. As for myself, I don’t feel an hour older than I did on the I day I left.” “Really? That reminds me of my ! grandfather. You remember him, I don’t you? Up to the very day of his | death, when he was nearly 90, and looked it, he kept saying he felt like a colt” What She Was. Mrs. Ellenbert —Is Mrs. Smith her i husband’s second wife?' Ellenbert—No; why did you think she was? Mrs. Ellenbert —Why, I have heard several people say he had been married before. Ellenbert—He has been married before, but that doesn’t make the present Mrs. Smith his second wife; he has been married twice before. Explained. Teacher (to new scholar) —How does it happen that your name is Allen and your mother’s name is Brown? Little Lsfd (after a moment’s thought)—Well, you see, it’s this way. She married again and I didn’t. —WOman’s Home Companion. Had His Approval. ‘Tve a good mind to shoot myself." “That’s the stuff! Got a gun?" “Then you think I would be better off?” “I was thinking of the world.” AFTER THE PROPOSAL. It' Miss Pickles—Your assurance is beyond description. I simply can’t express my feelings. Mr. Dill—Er—ln that case couldn’t you mail them? Miss Pickles — it’s against the postal laws to mail what I think of you. Too Easy. . “A tradition,” explained the teacher, “is something that has been handed down from father to son. Can you mention some familiar tradition?” “Yes’m,” promptly answered little Tommy Goodman; “my clothes are traditions.” “That’s too threadbare, Tommy; you will remain half an hour after school is dismissed.” Times Have Changed. Sister Blenkiron —Yes, I know the Throgsons. They’re as poor as church mice. Sister Widgeon—Oh, but church mice aren’t poor any more. Think of the basement kitchens we have in our churches nowadays, and the elegant suppers we sometimes have in the lecture rooms! — Fashion's Rule. “I do so admire that polonaise by Chopin,” said the artistic young worn- ; an. -“lndeed!” replied Mrs. Cumrox. “Os course, those French dressmakers | what they are about But I | thought polonaises were out of style.” I How Rumors Start. “What’s this about sewing your unfortunate wives in sacks?” "Nothing to it," replied the sultan, , emphatically. “I did get ’em some hobble skirts.” Not Unusual. “He has more money than he can spend." “That is unusual.” “Not so very. His wife insists on spending it for him.” Naming No Names. She —I have an instinctive feeling that I can trust you. He (earnestly)—Ah, my darling, would that some others felt that way! Weather Happenings. “I notice Mrs. Jollaby has a fine new diamond sunburst.” “Humph! Her husband must have had a windfall." Her Style. “My cook is very economical in little things. For example, she never uses nutmeg for flavoring." “I should call that a grate saving." Feminine Mathematics. “That girl’s counting for a husband went all wrong.” "But consider: it was merely a misscalculation.”

, - DAD AND fl BETTY Lewis Dad and Betty were making a tour of Europe, and had reached Mentone when things happened. Dad was a widower of 50—a hard-headed Hoosier, and Betty was his daughter. Dad had been in the sawmill business for 20 years, and Betty, a girl of 23, had been teaching school for the last four i years. Upon accepting a good offer . to sell out his business Dad had said | to his daughter: “I’ll let the whole thing slide and ■ start anew on the Sycamore river. I j know of a fine site near Kokoma, and If the Legislature will give me a charter for a mill dam I’ll make a mint of money. Menwhlle, we’ll go to Eui rope.« It won’t do us any hurt to get J polished up a bit.” They had traveled as two humble American citizens, and been taken at their worth. They did not pretend to be anybody, but John M. White and daughter, of Indiana, U. S. A., and if their crudities amused people they brought no ridicule.. If they argued a bit about tips and' bills, they paid their way in cash and managed to slip along. They had about completed their round when they arrived at Mentone, and the father entered the presence of the daughter one day to observe: “Well, Bet, the Legislature has acted .on my petition for a charter for a mill dam on the Sycamore, and I’m knocked out. They refuse to grant it. “But why don’t you try to make some money over here?” asked the daughter. “Um. Never thought of it. I’m used to Indiana mill dams and sawmills, and so haven’t looked around J over here. Don’t seem much of a I show for them things, but mebbe I j can hit something else.” He went down into the hotel office Ito smoke a cigar and think things {over, and he had scarcely begun to j wonder whether a snow shovel factory or a chewing gum foundry would pay the best, when a commotion arose around him, and the landlord began tearing his hair and wailing that he j was a ruined man. Mr. White was interested. His experience in the mill dam business had taught him that what was one man's ruin was another man’s upbuilding. He asked for an Interview with his host, and, when he bad stroked and patted and quieted him down, he ascertained what the row was about. A German baron had just commited suidlde in the hotel. rn fcw JwlHtll * s “The Landlord Began Tearing His Hair." It was the beginning of the season, and the affair the business ;of the hostelry. A suicide hotel would be a hoodoo. I "Now, then,” answered the man i from Indiana, “you quit pulling your j hair out and failing like a stray calf, ; and give me half an hour to think ' this thing over. It may be a good or a bad thing for you. That’s for us to figure out. Just keep cool and give me a show. /This isn’t a case of damming the Sycamore, but I think I see daylight.” The landlord fell upon the ftoosler’s neck and offered him both gratitude and cash to save the situation, i and within the half hour Mr. White | was closeted with him again and saying: “I’m happy to tell you that you needn't pull out any more hair over this matter. I didn’t come over here to put on any style, but I’m going to tell you who I am. I’m John M. White, of the Sycamore River and Power company. Sawmills built to order. Mill dams furnished with promptness and despatch. Motive power distributed all over the State of Indiana. Saw logs bought, sold and exchanged. Have you got that through your head?” “Oui, Oui, monsieur. In your country you are what they call a—a trust —a —magnate—a syndicate.” “Exactly, but I have kept quiet about ,it over here on my daughter’s account. Bet don’t want all the lords and counts and dukes in Europe runnlng after her. That’s the reason we slipped In here without any fuss and took cheap rooms. See?" ‘Then you are incog?” "We have been strictly so, but the time has’come to throw off the mask and save you. The baron who turned,

on the gas upstairs was a single man and had got down to his last dollar. I believe?" . “It ees so, but the plot, monsieur—the plot?” “Why, you’ve got it right before you on the blackboard. There isn’t a boy 10 years old in Indiana who couldn’t see it. The baron fell in love with my daughter in Berlin, and followed us here. He discovered my wealth. He would have become my son-in-law for cash. Betty will never marry unless her heart goes with her hand. She turns the baron down, and, having reached the end of the rope, he suicides. Do you catclr on?" “But he suicides in my hotel," protested the landlord. “For sure, but that’s the key-note. He does it for love. That’s where the romance comes in. He does it for the love of my Betty, and we are going to stay right here through the season. It will go out that we are a trust — magnates—syndicates— multi-million-aires. Our incog is lifted.” “And the titled will flock here for the love, the romance, your daughter and your cash?” “Right you are. You are improving on it. They’ll come from every township in Europe like a drove of steers. You can put up your prices 30 per cent., and then have to turn them away.. We will now settle on what whack oP't%e profits I am to have, and then I’ll see that the telegraphic accounts of the baron’s suicide are doctored to suit the case. From this time on cringe to me whenever I pass through the office. Tell your porters to get down on their knees. Let the waiters stand in awe of me. I have got no royal title, but I’ve got Bettx and the cash. I’m the It. I can shelr out the plunks to pay the debts of three or four dukes, and I can dope out the sugar to restore the castles of half a dozen counts. The barons are small game, but let ’em come along and pay board and room rent. Everything counts. There will probably be some sirs and honorables among the gang. Put ’em on the top floor at parlor prices. Do you savey?” r “What a man—what a man!" answered the landlord as he threw up his arms and laughed in glee. When the plot had been submitted to Betty she protested: “Why, daddy, I haven’t got the wardrobe for a rich young lady.” “You don’t want it. I am rich but eccentric. - It’s one of my idioms that you should dress “And I’ll be made love to?” “Unless all our plans fail, yes! Don’t get rattled. Just Imagine you’re back home in Indiana, and Bill Jones or Abe Smith is snooking around. Let ’em pour their tales of Ibve and devotion into your ears, but keep ’em on the hooks, the we do a calf when we. start in to wean him. If they get too fervid send ’em to me and I’ll talk mill dam to ’em. I’ve owned six of ’em in my time, and I can tell what a mill dam will do under any and all circumstances.” The baron’s suicide, as a plain, straight case of shuffling off, would doubtless have hurt the hotel, but when it was known that he had died for unrequitted love of a multi-mil-lionaire’s only daughter, the case exuded romance and interest. That the young lady and her father had traveled over Europe incog to keep clear of wife-hunters added Interest. That the father owned the Sycamore river, the state of Indiana and ever so many mill dams, as the papers had it, excited the avarice of Impecunious 5,0blemen, and day by day the landlord of the hotel patted the Hoosier on the back and whispered: “More great people coming! More rooms reserved! Mon Dleu, but what a man —what a head on a man! A baron ruins jny hotel and a mill dam saves her!” Miss Betty continued to be plain Miss Betty. A few of-the aristocratic, but untitled guests sneered at the personal looks and her wardrobe and speech, but she made no change. The great majority whispered: “American eccentricity," and that/covered everyt’.ing. She numbered' her victims by sixes and sevens. They came to admire and to love, and to tell their love. They loved her for herself alone, and then went down to the office to hear from the father’s own lips just how many mill dams and saw mills he owned, and how he proposed to divide with his son-in-law. There were counts with castles, dukes with medals and barons with palpitating hearts. Outside of these were stray honorables, sirs and only sons, and none of them came for three or four days a week. They just' sat right down to see the case through, and those that couldn’t be accommodated got into the nearest caravansaries and were, more or less on the spot. Miss Betty didn’t play any game. She was just Indiana all the tijne. She had smiles for all. Once in a while she did say that she could never love a man who was after her money, but she of course added that present company was excepted. A week before the season was to close the father said: “Well, Betty, the play is played. We are going to head for home, and I’ll either build a dam across the Sycamore or tear the Legislature out by the roots. You can pack up.” And a few days later, when almost a dozen cards were being sent stairs for Miss White within the hour, the smiling landlord gathered -the senders in a parlor in a sort of ward caucus and explained: "Messieurs, I have the pleasure to Inform you that Monsieur White, of the Sycamore-Indlana and many trillions of dollars, has been called homA to see about his dam site, and that his beauteous daughter has accompanied him.”