The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 14, Number 38, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 19 January 1922 — Page 2

The Girl, a Horse FRANCIS and a Dog

“THE GIRL!" Synopsis. — Under his grandfather’s vjill, Stanford Broughton, estate, valued at something lik-e 1440,000, lies in a “safe repository,” latitude and longitude described, and that is all. It may be identllled by the presence nearby of a brown-haired, blue-eyed girl, a piebald horse, and a dog with a split lace, half black and half white. Stanford at first regards the bequest as! a practical joke, but after consideration sets out to find his legacy, ! On his way to Denver Stanford hears from a fellow traveler, Charles Bullerton, a mining engineer, a story having to do with a flooded mine. He guesses at the possibility of a mine as a "safe repository." , Bullerton refuses him information. Broughton starts for Placerville, In the Red Desert. At Atropia, Just as the train pulls out, Stanford sees what appear to be the identical horse and dog described in his grandfather's will. Impressed, lie leaves the train at the next stop. Angels. Unable to secure a ’ conveyance, Broughton Seizes a track-inspection car and escapes,; leaving the impression on the town marshal, Beasley, that he is demented. Pursued, he abandons this car, which is wrecked.

CHAPTER V.—Continued. • —3— Gentle reader, I wonder if you’ve ever tried) to climb a telegraph pole without tjie contrivances that a linehan buckles upon his sees? If you laven’t. tne advice of this amateur is—fon’t. Half a dozen times I shinnied In to perhaps the height of a man’s lead, only to come sliding down again on a run. ! At last, by a series of inchings I contrived to get within arm'sreach of hie lowest crosspiece. Fliers in hand, I strained for the nearest wire, progged it, and began to twist it back and | forth to break it. Not to jet me miss any of the thrills, it was at the nrecise instant of the wire-breaking that my straining ears caught tljie sound they had been listening for; a far-away, drumming rumble that fjeemed to come from nowhere in particular. Then, out of the same Indefinite! circumambience came a warniiig that was still more unmistakable—the) long-drawn blast of a locomotive whistle. I didn't climb down that pole; I came down like the time-ball on the flagstaff in Washington at high noon. Moreover, I struck the ground running, as one might say. All thoughts of tinkering that confounded motor had vanished rijhd my one great object in life Was to get the car off the track before a worso thing should happen, 5 was doing fajrly well with the lifting |nd tugging when the enemy hove in light lefts than five hundred yards |way. And that wasn’t all, either. At precisely' the sgme instant, as if it had jeen timed by the same mechanism that had brought the freight train, here caine a wild engine around the curve in the opposite direction, with its whistle valve held open and making a racket to wake the dead. The bereft motor-car? riders had found a locomotive somewhere and were chasing me. One mad heave at the stranded gasoline car, a ifiighty boost that got all but one wheel of it in the clear, and I was gone—breaking it like a jackrabbit for tall timber—only there wasn’t a stick of timber nearer than the slopes of the backgrounding mountains. * J Ond glance! over my shoulder as I fled showed me what I was in for: that the story Was to be immediately continued in |ur next. Both engineers tried to stop; did stop in time to avert the greater catastrophe. Three or four men jumped from the freight and two srom the wild engine to come tearing fetter me. I fancied I could give them feieir money’s worth at that game—|eing in pretty fair training—so I pitched out to try to turn the hypo|ietical theory into a condition. a lt was a great race. Through one gap and into another we went, making figure eights around the hills and back again, dodging into new ravines and out of them into others, circling among great; sandstone boulders that took all sorts of weird shapes in the passing glimpse. I don’t knt|w just how long the chase lasted, but it was long enough to give me a very considerable degree of respect for the nerve and persistence of those highly indignant railroad men. We nlusf have been miles away from the scene of the .disaster when I finally left thehi behind- and lost them. When I looked back and’found myself alone with rhe solitudes I sat down upon .a flat rock to gasp and laugh. It had all been so supremely ridiculous, and so beautifully in keeping with the reputation; I had left behind me at Angels, that I felt sure that now nothing less tlujm a vtrdict of expert alienists would ever sdrve to convince these Red Desert folk that I was. anything but an escaped lunatic. After thft breathing spell I kept on ip the valley, heading away from the letting sun, and feeling certain that, looner or later, I must come out someWhere in the neighborhood of Atropia. Two houjrs later I came into a so r of an excuke for a road. Being pretty well winded by the stiff climb out of the canyon ravine, I sat down at the roadside to rest a bit and to decide which way I should go, to the right or to the left. Just as I was making up my mind I heard a patter of feet and a dog barked. A moment later I could see the beast, indistinctly. He had been coming up the road and had stopped at the sight—or scent —of me. Since a dog argued the proximity of a dogowning human being, I called coaxlngly: “Here, Towser —here —come on, old fellow—that’s a boy I” and the curious thing about it 18 that he did It, ■•nning up • Httlo way and stappigg.

and finally coming to squat before me and to lift a paw for me to shake. I Jollied Idm a bit and let Mm nose me to his heart's content. Then suddenly, as if he had discovered a longlost master, he broke away and began to leap and dance around me, barking a furious and hilarious welcome. In the midst of this hubbub I heard hoofbeats and the squeaking of saddle leather, and the dog’s owner rode up. At first I thought the dimly outlined Stetson-hatted figure in the saddle was that of a boy. But it was a woman’s voice, and a mighty pleasant one. that called to the dog: “Down, Barney, and behave yourself—what’s the matter with you, sir!” I stood up and pulled off my cap. “I’m chiefly the matter,” I said. “Your dog seems to think he knows me, and I’m awfully sorry that his memory is so much better than mine.’ You'd think —anybody would think —that a woman riding alone in the dark on a solitary mountain road would be handsomely startled, to say the least, at seeing a man rise up fairly under her horde's nose. But if my little lady were scared, she certainly didn’t parade her fright. “Barney is such a foolish dog, sometimes,” she said apologetically. “He has a double brain, you. know; half Os it is good-natured and silly and the other half is—well, it's—’’ The dog had come around again wagging his tail and at that magic word “half” I stooped to let him stick his cold nose into my palm. The act brought me near enough to enable me to see him better, and I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from shouting out and scaring the entire combination into a wild stampede. For, if you’ll believe me, the dog was my dog. One-half of his face was white and the other was so black that it merged and faded harmoniously into the night! “I know,” I said, straightening up again; “my brain acts that way, too, sometimes.” Then: “Pardon me, but would you mind telling me the color of the horse you are riding?” The young woman laughed and her laugh was just as jolly and pleasant as her speaking voice. “Winkle is what the cow-men call a ‘pinto’—a calico horse,” she answered promptly. “Sure!” I bellowed, “I knew it!” and the horse shied and the dog barked in sheer sympathy. Then I apologized. “Please forgive the explosion. As I said a minute ago, my brain sometimes acts like Barney’s: half of it being good-natured and silly and the other half —well, we'll omit the description of the other half for the present, if you’ll permit me. May ler—willI — er—will you have the goodness to tell me where I am?” “I —why—dear me! Don’t you know where you are?” “Not any more than a harmless, necessary goat, I assure you.” I couldn’t be certain, but I thought she took a little firmer hold upon her bridle rein. “Did you—did you come from Angels?" she asked in a sort of awed little voice. “How did you guess it? I was, indeed —for a very short space of time this very day—a membet of the Angelic band. And if you should ask me, I might say that I feel as though I had walked most of the way here from Angels. I —I — my car broke down, you know.” « “Yes,” she said: “I know”—just as if she did. Then: “I can at least tell you where you are. This is the southern slope of Cinnabar mountain. This road leads on down to Atropia, about three miles below.” “Y-es; Atropia was the place I was trying to come at.” She stopped and appeared to be thinking about something. Then she said: “Really, I think you would better not go to Atropia. It’s —well, it's quite a long walk.” “The walk doesn’t specially appal me. I’ve done so much walking this afternoon that a few hundred miles, more or less, in addition wouldn't be worth mentioning. But for some other reasons —” "Yes; for some other reasons,” she said, repeating it right after me. Then: “I—we —Daddy and I, might give you some supper and put you up for the night, if —if you wouldn’t mind sleeping in the —in the loft.” My Lord! I hadn’t so much as seen her face clearly yet, but I could have worshiped her! She had just come from Atropia, and she knew! Os course, she knew. That little dry-as-dust hamlet must have been sizzling for hours with the wire news of the escaped lunatic who had alighted in Angels onlv to light out again witli a stolen Inspection car. And in the face of all that she was willing to take a chance on me! If she had only known that I would cheerfully risk sleeping in the cel I or —to say nothing of a loft —rather than lose sight of her . . . but she was going on a bit breathlessly: “It is only a short mile to our cabin and —and if you are very tired, I might let you ride Winkie.” “I shall be most delighted—to walk,” I hastened to say. “Straight on up the road, then,” she We had traversed possibly half of the promised mile in plodding silence when we came to a place where the grade was so ftteep that it cut what was left of my sea-level wind to the small end of nothing. “Stop a minute and get your breath,” said the pony’s rider; and when I had halted: “Xpu are not used to these high are you?” “N-not so that any qne would remark it,” I gasped. “How high up are we?" “About five thousand feet. The mine is exactly five thousanad three hundred, I believe." —

There it was, you see: THE MINE! “Pardon me,” I blurted out; “but would you mind telling me if your eyes are blue?” Her laugh was like a drink of cool spring water In the middle of a hot summer day; refreshing, you know, like that. “I sup-pup-pcse my eyes are blue; people tell me they are.” “Thank you,” I returned. “There is only one other little matter and that can very well wait until weaaree —er —‘ a bit better acquainted, you know. Shall we go on, now?” She spoke to her pony and we went on. Ahead of us and diagonally up a steep slope I could see the dim shapes of a number of buildings, all dark. Then we came to a great dump, looking as if the mountain had at one time opened to pour out a cataract of broken stone. Beyond the dump there was another building with a light In it ; and as the dog ran ahead of us. barking, the figure of a man silhouetted itself in the open doorway. “Here we are and you are welcome to the Old Cinnabar," said my companion to me. Then she “hoo-hoo-ed” cheerily to the man in the doorway and slipped out of her saddle, letting her pony stand while she led me across to the lighted, log-built cabin. CHAPTER VI. The Old Cinnabar. “Daddy, here is a man I found down at the head of Antelope gulch; he had lost his way, so I brought him home with me,” was the simple manner in which she launched me; and I found myself shaking hands with an elderly man who looked as if he might be a farmer, or a miner, or something of that nature —you will know what I mean —flannel shirt, trousers tucked Into boots, iron-gray whiskers all over his face, an eye as mild as a collie dog’s. “You done plum’ right, Jeanie,” he remarked; and then to me : “Come right on in, stranger, and be at home. If you don’t see what you want, ask for it.” After which he went to take care of the piebald pony. The log cabin proved to be primitive only on the outside. The interior was a dream of cozy homeliness. A hanging lamp lighted it, and in its mild glow I had my first real look at the girl. She wasn’t beautiful in any showgirl meaning of the word; she was something far better —piquant, charming. A round little face, wind-tanned to a tint as delicious as the blush in the heart of an apple-blossom, a jolly bit of a nose, tip-tilted enough to bespeak a healthy sense of humor, a mouth neither too large nor too small upheld by a firm, round chin, and the chin upheld by an extra firm little jaw. As she had admitted, her eyes were blue —the blue that shades into violet —and they were well-set; wide apart and perfectly fearless; the kind of eyes fit to match the straight-lined brows that usually go with them. I sat before the cheerful blaze, chuckling quietly to myself over the mad adventures of the day and their highly romantic, not to say miraculous, outcome. Beyond all manner of doubt I had stumbled upon the three talismans of Cousin Percy’s cryptic letter. By the most marvelous of accidents I had discovered the girl, the horse and the dog; and, If the remainder of Percy’s letter were to be taken at its face value, I should now be in touch with my legacy. As to the character of that there could be no further question. Grandfather Jasper had left me a mine; and I was fully prepared to find it the drowned mine of Bullerton’s story. What I might be able to make of it was a matter which could well '£/ A Little Later the Girl Returned to Set the Table. be postponed to another day. Just as I reached this postponing conclusion, the girl’s father came in, drew up a chair on the opposite side of the hearth, and began to make me welcome in a mild-mannered way, saying that they didn’t have much company, and were always “master” glad to see a new face. He did not ask me any troublesome questions; and beyond telling me his name, which was Hiram Twombly, did not volunteer any information about himself or his daughter, nor did he explain how they came to be living In so much comparative comfdrt in such “an out-of-the-way place.

SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL

A little later the girl returned to set the table, and presently we had supper. It was an amazingly good meal; crisp bacon, fried potatoes, hot biscuits and honey, and" coffee that was most delicious in spite of the condensed milk which was made to serve as cream. After we left the table the blueeyed maiden got housewifely busy, and the old man and I sat before the fire and smoked. I don’t remember Just how it was that we finally drifted around to automobiles and motor boats and such things, but we did, and maybe I may have bragged a bit about having driven and tinkered pretty nearly ail the breeds of go-cart on land and water —as I really had. "Know about machinery, do you?” said my hearth-mate; and then, with a humorous glint in his mild eyes: “Shouldn’t wonder if you could be sort of a Godsend to me, if you wanted to. To-morruh, if you ain’t in too big a hurry to be leavin’ us, I’ll get you to show me a few things that I don’t know, 'long them lines, maybe.” Os course, I acquiesced, cheerfully. By and by the girl came in and sat down to knit, just as her grandmother might have done, and at that her father got up, and. lighting a lantern, went out. I was fairly perishing by this time to know a vast number of things, but hardly knew how to begin asking about them. So, as the old man clapped on his hat and left the cabin, I blew out the first foolish remark that came uppermost. “All dressed up, and nowhere to go; isn’t that about the way of it for you two up on this mountain?” “Meaning Daddy, and now, particularly?” she said, smiling across at me. “He has gone to make his regular round of the mine buildings and cabins. Not that there is the slightest use of it; only he likes to feel that he is at least pretending to earn his pay.” "The mine?” I queried. “Yes; this is the old Cinnabar, you know; and Daddy is the—well, I suppose you might call us the caretakers, though there isn’t much to take care of. The mine has been shut down for a year and more.” “Is it a gold mine?” “It was.” “Why the past tense?” “Water,” she said, briefly. “It’s a drowned mine. That is why it was shut down.” Os course, this was exactly what I was expecting to hear, and yet this plain unvarnished confirmation of things gave me a damp and soggy feeling of despondency. Percy had wired, you remember, thai fits letter was no joke; but it seemed that it really was one, and that the joke—which was a mighty grim one —was on me. “Can’t the water be pumped out?” I asked. “It seems not. I understand the company spent thousands of dollars trying to pump it out. It’s —it’s rather pitiful.” “You mean the company’s loss?” “No; the company didn’t lose anything. It was just one old man.” Now we were coming to the real meat of the thing and I looked my hand of cards over carefully to the end that 1 should not overplay it. “I’m fond of stories,” I ventured; “especially mining stories," and thereupon she told me the story of the Cinnabar. It was a fair repetition of Bullerton’s tale, with a few more ot' the particulars thrown in. As my blue-eyed little Scheherazade understood it, my grandfather had been a minority stockholder in the company during its prosperous period. When the water debacle came, the fact of it was carefully concealed from him and he was generously permitted to come to the rescue —which he did by paying a fabulous sum (Scheherazade did not know how much) for his fellow-stockholders’ holdings. In other words, they had sold him a gold brick; soaked him for a final clean-up on a doomed mine. That was about all there was to it. “Did my—did the old gentleman you speak of ever come out here himself?” She nodded. “Once jkrat we know off; that was after it was all over and the place was deserted. At that time Daddy had taken up a claim just west of here in the next gulch and we were living in this cabin; squatters, I guess you’d call us. So we camped down.” “That was quite right and proper. And this Mr. Jasper Dudley; he didn’t turn you out when he came, did he?” “Oh, no, indeed; he was very kind. When he found that Daddy’s gulch, claim wasn’t going to pan out anything, he said he needed a caretaker here, and since that time he has sent us money every month. But now I suppose it will all be different. Mr. Dudley is dead.” “But the heirs?” I suggested. “We don’t even know who they are. When Mr. Dudley went away he left a sealed envelope with Daddy. He said he might come back again, some thne, but if he didn’t, or couldn’t, Daddy was to keep the envelope and give it to his —Mr. Dudley’s—representative, whoever that might be.” Talk about plots thickening! This one was already as thick as molasses in the dead of winter! “How were you to know this representative if one should come?” I edged in cautiously. “I don’t know,” she replied simply, “I should suppose he would be able to Identify himself In. some way, though; shouldn’t you? That is, if he ever comes.” “Sure; nothing easier, of course,” I agreed; and then, since we seemed to have scraped the bottom of the Cinnabar dish clean I switched off to something else. “When we were coming up the road • while back, Miss Jeanie, you gath-

ered the impression that I was a craty man. didn’t you?” “Didn’t you try to give me that impression?” she countered. “I fancy I didn’t have to try very hard —inasmuch as you had been spending the afternoon in Ayopia.” She forced a queer little laugh and bent lower over her knitting. “When you were in Atropia, did you see or hear anything of the other crazy man?” “Is there another one?” She asked, a bit breathlessly. “I was told so in Angels this afternoon.” “Is this other man a friend of yours?” she wanted to know. “You could scarcely call him that; I’ve met him only once. He is a mining engineer and his name is Bullerton —Charles Bullerton.” If I had reached up and got her pistol out of its holster over the mantel to bang it off into the fireplace she could hardly have been more startled. “Ch-Charles Bullerton?” she stammered. “Is Mr. Bullerton here?” “Not here, exactly, but he was in Atropia two days ago. Do you, by any chance, happen to know him?” “Oh, yes; qui-quite well.” “Then, naturally, you know best whether or not he is in my class —the crazy class, I mean.” Once more she let the blue eyes drop to her knitting, and if I wasn’t mistaken the pretty lips were twisting themselves in a sort of wry smile. “The last time I saw him he told me he was crazy,” she admitted. “Isn’t this delightful!” I murmured. “Bullerton is crazy and I'm crazy; Ko I Stuck My Head Out of the Blankets and Listened Greedily. perhaps we are all a bit crazy. Do you know, Miss Jeanie, that I have come thousands of miles to find you?” “To find me?” —the blue eyes were as round as the full moon. “Even so; you, your horse and your dog. Would you—er —would you permit an exceedingly personal question? Remembering always that it is put by a man who has lost his wits? Have you a small brown mole on your left shoulder?” She blushed very fetcbingly; even the handsome mountain wind tan wasn’t brqwn enough to hide it. “I think you are crazy—completely crazy.” “Certainly I am; there hasn’t been the slightest doubt of It since—well, since about two weeks ago, when I started to hunt for you and a piefaced dog and piebald horse.” There was silence before the fire for a long minute and I began to be afraid Daddy Hiram would come back before anything else happened. Then she said, with more curiosity than resentment, I thought: “How did you know about the mole?” “Then there is one?” I questioned eagerly. “Y-yes.” “Glory be!” I chanted. “You don’* know’ what a load you have lifted fronu whatever poor fragment of a mind I have left!” Again she said: “I don’t know what you mean.” “Just you wait,” I begged. “I have lucid intervals’at times; all crazy folks do, you know. When my next one comes along I’ll explain as much as I can—which isn’t nearly as much as you might think, at that.” It was just at this moment that her father returned, so she went on with her sock-knitting while we two men talked a bit and had a bed-time smoke. Pretty soon I began to get sleepy—a natural consequence of the strenuous day—and at the third yawn, which I was trying vainly to hide, Daddy Twombly lighted a candle and offered to show me my bunk. This proved to be in the cabin loft, as the blue-eyed maiden had threatened, and the stair was just a common ladder. Father Hiram left me the candle, and I had blown the light out and rolled myself In the blankets before I realized that the loft must be directly over the room with the fireplace in it. I was so workmanly tired that I fell asleep almost at once, and why I should have awakened before morning, 1 c’on’t know. But I did awaken, and though I don’t know what time ft was, it seemed as if I hadn’t been asleep more than a few minutes. There were voices in the room beneath; Twombly and his daughter had not yet gone to bed. so it must have been reasonably early. I had no manner of right to listen in, but short of stuffing cotton in my ears there didn’t seem to be any easy way of staying out—and I didn’t have any cotton. “I heard something today—something that you won’t like to hear Charles Bullerton is somewhere in this neighborhood. He was in Angels yesterday or the day before.” “Huh!” grunted Twombly; “I wonder what sort of a crooked deal he’s trylp’ to pull off now? Did he stay In Angels?” “N-no. What I heard was that he ha<J left there to ’go to .Atropia.” “I don’t Want to see him come fool~f c

in* ’round you any more, whatsoever. Jeanie girl. I kep’ still the other time, but that was afore I’d found out how everlastin’ crooked lie is.” “You needn’t be afraid for me. Daddy.” said tne girl, and I could hear her low laugh. “You know you’ve always said I’d have to marry money, and Charles Bullerton hasn’t enough to tempt even me.” I heard something that sounded like a deep-throated “Gosh!—listen at that, will ye?” then: “If Charley Bullerton’s been in 'Tropia he’ll be bustin’ in here, next, tryln’ to get his claws Into this here Cinnabar carcass. And me. I hain’t got no boss to stand behind me. That’ll be a nice kettle o’ fish!" I stuck my head out of the blankets and listened greedily. It seemed to be very highly necessary tlwit I should be made acquainted with the precise ingredients of tliat kettle of fish. But my luck had exhausted itself. In a few minutes there was a stir in the living-room below, and I heard Daddy Twombly shoveling up ashes to cover the fire. That meant goodnight: and though I continued to listen, there were no more sounds, and I was finally obliged to go to sleep, leaving the fishkettle still unanalyzed. "Well, hello, Charley Bullerton! What in Sam Hill are you doin’ up in thi* neck o’ wood*?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) PIG IRON’S BASIC PRODUCTS Metal Sold in Three Forms—Cast Wrought and Steel—One of Most Valuable Minerals. Iron is the most valuable metal in the world to man, because it is of more use In more ways. It has been known to men from earll- j est times. Savages smelted it. It is ; generally found compounded with other substances such as carbon. These other substances have to be burned out in order to have pure iron. Iron is sold in three forms —cast iron, wrought iron, and steel. Cast 4 iron is bri.ttle and hard, like the lid on the kitchen range. Wrought iron can be hammered out flat or made into wire or welded. It is quite soft. Steel is also capable of being hammered out flat and welded. Its peculiar property is that when tempered it becomes very hard—so hard that a sharp edge can be put on it —so hard that it will, when edged, cut wrought iron. Iron which has been melted and poured into a mold in some form desired for use, such as part of a stove, is called cast iron. Iron which is cast roughly from the smelted ore in order to be used to make cast iron, wrought iron or steel is called pig iron. Puddling is the name of the process by which pig iron is made into wrought iron. It is done in a furnace in which the carbon is burned from tlie pig iron. Pig iron contains the most carbon, then comes steel and then wrought iron. Steel can be made directly from pig iron by what is known as tlie Bessemer and open-hearth processes. Formerly it was made from wrought iron. Find a Mummified Dinosaur. The vast ice fields of Siberia have I in many instances acted as a natural i cold-storage plant for the preservation | of the flesh of the mammoth, this | historic cousin of the elephant, having been dug out of his chilly grave intact on numerous occasions. It has always been supposed, however, that this was the only instance In which anything more than the bare bones of the fauna of past geological epochs had come down to ns. Doubtless this mammoth will continue to stand unique in tills respect; but he is no longer unapproached. There has recently been put on exhibition in the Senlkenberg museum, Frankfort-am-Main, a dinosaur skeleton which carries with it a considerable portion of the skin of the animal, in mummified form. In particular the epidermis over the animal’s back is present practically intact. The skeleton has been mounted in flying position, and makes altogether an impressive exhibit. —Scientific American,. The Healthy Eskimo. It is said that the Eskimos of the remotest north are tlie healthiest people you can find anywhere. Contact with white folks has, however, brought deterioration and demoralization. The influence of civilization has been bad, and may be worse; it may even result in the extinction of the hardy race. Only when they are left wholly to their own devices are the Eskimos healthy, and this is indeed remarkable, for their devices are few and the hardships of their lives ar« many. Origin of Wedding Cake. The wedding cake dates back to the laws of Romulus and the early days of Rome. Instead of elaborate marriage festivals Romulus instituted tlie confarreatio. The union of the man and woman was solemnized simply and quickly by the eating of a loaf ot barley bread together. This marriage ceremony was in force for some generations among the Romans. Then, as civilzation developed, the barley bread became a cake. Birds and Cyclones. One naturalist has expressed the opinion that birds habitually make use of storms in traveling from one part of their range to another. He points out that If a bird cannot find shelter, it must be more comfortable on the wing than on the ground during a storm, because in the fiercest gales the air, as a mass, is at rest; that is, the bird is in a moving, supporting medium, like a swimmer in a strongly* flowing river. Don't Neglect Eyes. The majority of people do not care for their eyes as they should. The eye is too delicate an organ to be subjected to haphazard treatment. A sudden change from a very bright light to darkness should be avoided I and, if the eyes are at all weak, the! prevailing color in the room in which I such a one spends much time, should! be in some tint that is soothing andl restful to the eyes.—Detroit News. I

LET’S STOP THE COLDS Use the Old-Fashioned Cure That Grandmother Used Re Tw ' 'Wk - MjjiM jr 'l* * row coughs colm f * * im, c». esoNCHiTis rrc. J*' ’’ U-lei, ’’ IT eCNCTRATES " -VOV« »»A»OWOTH«« u.t.rr T|, a LANGLIY CHEMICAL CO. M Also ?oo<l for Croup, Sore Throat, Hoarseness.. Tonallltls, Hay Fever, Catarrh. Asthma, Rheumatism, Sciatica. Sprain*. Strain*. Headache, etc. Any pain quickly relieved. Kwp a jar Ln/lty'i tn tht bom* ot *U timm. If your druggist doe* not carry Langley's, send SOo to LANGLEY CHEMICAL CO. Central DMslm NEWPORT, XV, INVEST *SO. Uet weekly cash returns. No stuck scheme. Manufacturing World wide market: we do the selling Manufacturer. Room 304. 1431 Broadway, New York Start In Business for Yourself; make candy ut home In spare hour.. Big profits. Particulars. Elmers-Confecfy. Watertown. N. Y. LOCAL SECRETARY STEADY INCOME. NO SOLICITING. Costs--you nothing. Span* time only. Write today SUITE 1. 5504 Kenwood Avenue, CHICAGO. Sublime and Beautiful. One of the professors says Zulu women are more beautiful than thewomen of this country; but the professor's announcement doesn’t settleit. Beauty is a mutter of personal opinion. Some people think Aire<lal< dogs are pretty. SHE IS “FULL OF PEP" THEY SAY She Is Good-Looking and Gay and Is Always Ready for a Good Time. Why is a girl popular? Look arputfd And see what a good time the goodlooking ones have all the time. \Men seek them out and ask them to parties, dances and entertainments. And notice that it, is not the doll-face type real men like most, but the redblooded girl with “pep” and happy good nature. Any girl who is tired and languid and has a poor complexI ion and dull eyes can improve her condition and be far happier if she will simply take Gude’s Pepto-Man-gan until she has put her blood into good condition. Red blood - means “full of life” and “full of life” usually means happiness. Try Gude’s Pepto-Mangan and see how much better you feel. Doctors have used it nearly thirty years for weak, run-down people. v It helpsthem get well. Sold in both liquid and tablet form. Advertisement. Tlying Automobile. ' A flying automobile is the latest development in the French aero world. A successful demonstration of an’ ordinary automobile with folding wings,, two engines, one of ten horsepower for land going and the other of 300 horsepower for air travel, was held recently at Buc, Selne-et-Oise. The' machine performed all the usual featr of an airplane and also of an automobile. MOTHER! MOVE CHILD’S BOWELS WITH CALIFORNIA FIG SYRUF < Hurry, mother! Even a sick child loves the ‘fruity” taste of “California Fig Syrup” and it never fails to open- „ the bowels. A teaspoonful today may" prevent a sick child tomorrow. If constipated, bilious, feverish, fretful, has - - cold, colic, or if stomach is sour,, tongue coated, breath bad, remember a good cleansing of the little bowels is often all that is necessary. Ask your druggist for genuine “California Fig Syrup” which ha,s directionsfor babies and children of all ages printed on bottle. Mother! You must say “California’ or you may get an imitation fig syrup.—Advertisement. Sure Enough! Why Didn't He? Ellsworth, age five, would use profanity in spite of his parents’ admonitions. While playing in tlie front yard and having a “good time of it” one day, the Baptist clergyman passed. He paused and said: “Ellsworth, I am afraid—er, I am afraid —” “Why in blazes don’t you run, then?”' —Exchange. The prices 01 cotton and linen havebeen doubled by the war. Lengthen their service by using Red Cross Ball Blue in the laundry. All g.ocers—Advertisement. Cotton Culture 300 Year* Old. The culture of cotton in the United States dates back just 300 years, the first cotton seed having been planted in Virginia as an experiment in 1621. r The man who attempts to flatter won is either a fool or lie thinks you 6 re. ; Reptiles are not found in the Arctic region. . i//v J/ Morning KeepVbur E/es w. N U . FORT WAYNE. NO. 3-TtEE.