The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 15, Number 16, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 17 August 1922 — Page 2

ANNIE MILLIKAN SYNOPSIS.—A foreword tells this: Motoring through Arizona, a party ■ of easterners, father and daughter and a male companion, stop to witness a cattle round up. The girl leaves the car and is attacked by a wild steer. A masterpiece of riding on the part of one of the cowboys saves her life. Then the story begins: Clay Lindsay, range- , rider on an Arizona ranch, announces "his intention to visit the “big town,’* New York. On the train Lindsay becomes Interested in a young woman, Kitty Mason, on her way to New York to become a motion-picture actress. She is marked as fair prey by a fellow traveler, Jerry Durand, gang politician and ex-prize fighter. Perceiving his intentions, Lindsay provokes a quarrel and throws Durand from the train. On his first day in New York Lindsay is splashed with water by a janitor. That Individual the range-rider punishes summarily and leaves tied to a tire hydrant. A young woman who sees the occurrence invites Clay into her house and hides him from the police. Clay’s "rescuer” introduces herself as Beatrice Whitford. Lindsay meets her father, Colin Whit- ■ ford, and is invited to visit them again. He meets Kitty Mason by accident. She has been disappointed in her stage aspirations, and to support herself is selling cigarettes in a cabaret. Clay visits her there. Kitty is insulted by a customer. Clay punishes the annoyer. After a lively mixup Lindsay escapes. Outside, he is attacked by Jerry Durand and a companion and beaten insensible. Lindsay’s acquaintance with Beatrice Whitford ripens. Through her he is introduced into “society.” His “side partner” on the Arizona ranch. Jbhnnie Green, comes to the “big town.” The two. take an apartment together. Kitty Mason gets word to Clay that she is in Trouble. He goes to a house where she is supposed to be shut up. lie goes to the rescue. — CHAPTER Vll—Continued. “Nothin’, doin’, old-timer. Tills is fny job, and I don't reckon I’ll let anybody else tackle it. Much obliged, just the same. You're one sureenough white man, Johnnie.” The little fellow knew that the matter was settled. Clay had decided and what he said was final. But Johnnie worried about it all the way. At ttie last moment, when they separated at the street corner, he added one last word. “Don’t you be too venturesome, son. If them guys got you it sure would break me all up.” Clay smiled cheerfully. “They’re not goin’ to get me, Johnnie. Don’t forget to remember not to forget yore part. Keep under cover for thirty militates ; then if I haven’t shown up, holler yore head off for the cops.” They were passing an alley as Clay finished speaking. He slipped into its friendly darkness ajid was presently lost to sight. It ran into an inner Court which was the center of tortuous passages. The cattleman stopped to get his bearings, selected the likeliest exit, and brought up in the shelter of a small porch. This, he felt sure, must be the rear of the house lie wanted. A strip of lattice work ran up the side of the entrance. Very carefully, testing every slat with his weight before trusting himself to it, he climbed up and edged forward noiselessly upon the roof. On hands and knees he crawled to the window and tried to peer in. The blind was down, but lie could see that the room was dark. What danger lurked behind the drawn blind he could not guess, but after a moment, to make sure that the revolver beneath his belt was ready—for instant use, he put his hand gently on the sash. His motions were soundless as the fall of snowflakes. The window moved slowly, almost imperceptibly, under the pressure of his hands. Warily lie lifted one leg into the room. His head followed, then the rest of his body. He waited, every nerve tensed. There came to him a sound that sent cold finger-tips playing a tattoo up and down his spine. It was the intake of some one’s cautious breathing. His hand crept to the butt of the revolver. He crouched, poised for either attack or retreat. A bath of light flooded the room and «wall owed the darkness. Instantly day’s revolver leaped to the air. CHAPTER VIII A Late Evening Call. A young woman in an open-neck nightgown sat up in bed, a cascade of Jilack hair fallen over her white shoulders. Eyes like jet beads were fastened on him. In them he read indignation struggling with fear. “Say, what are you anyhow—a moll buzzer? If you’re a porch-climber out for the props you’ve' sure come to the -wrong dump. 1 got nothin’ but bum 'rocks.” This was Greek to Clay. He did mot know that she had asked him if he •were a man who robs women, and that ehe had told him he could get no diamonds there since hers were false. The Arizonan guessed at once that Jie was not in the room mentioned in jthe letter. He slipped his revolver back into its place between shirt and trousers. “Is this house number 121?” he fisked. “No, it’s 123. What of it?” “It’s the wrong house. I’m ce'talnly one diump.” The black eyes lit with sardonic mockery. “Say, do I look like one of them born-every-minute kind?” she asked easily. “Go ahead and spring £hat ohl one on me about how you got Tanked at the club and come In at the window on account o’ your wife havin’ a temper somethin’ fierce.” t “Jio. I—l lookiq’ fur souxs one

The Big-Town Round Up

else. I’m awful sorry I scared you. I'd eat dirt if it would do any good, but it won’t. I’m just a plumb idiot. I reckon I’ll be pushin’ on my reins.” He turned toward the window. “Stop right there where you’re at.” she ordered sharply. “Take a step to that wffidow and I’ll holler for a harness bull like a Bowery bride gettin’ a wallopin’ from friend husband. I gotta have an explanation. And who told y<*u I was scared? Forget that stuff. Take it from Annie that she ain’t the kind that scares.” “1 came to see some one else, but I got in the wrong house,” he -explained again lamely. “That’s twice I heard both them interestin’ facts. Who is this goil you was coinin’ through a window to see in the middle o’ the night. And what’s that gat for if it ain’t to croak some other guy? You oughtta be ashamed of yourself for not pullin’ a better wheeze than that on me.” Clay blushed. In spite of the slangy impudence that dropped from the pretty red lips the girl was slim and looked virginal. “You’re 'way off. I wasn’t callin’ on her to —” He stuck hopelessly. “Whadya know about that?” she came back with obvious sarcasm. “You soitainly give me a pain. I’ll say you weren’t callin' to arrange no Sunday school picnic. Listen. K>ok tit that wall a minute, will you?” When he turned again at her order she was sitting on the side of the bed wrapped' in a kimono, her feet in bedroom slippers. He saw now that she was a slender-limbed slip of a girl. The lean forearm, which showed baije to the elbow when she raised it to i draw the kimono closer round her, told Clay that she was none too well nourished. It occurred to him that she might give him information of value. He told her the story of Kitty Mason. He could see by the girl's eyes that she had jumped to the conclusion that be i was in love with Kitty. He did not i attempt to disturb that conviction. It might enlist her sympathy. Annie Millikan had never seen a man like this before, so clean and straight and good to look at. From childhood she had been brought up on the fringe of that underworld the atmosphere of which is miasmic. She was impressed in spite of herself. “Say, why don’t you go into the movies and be one of these here screen ideals? You’d knock ’em dead,” she advised flippantly, crossing her bare ankles. Clay laughed. He liked the. insolent little twist to her mouth. She made one strong appeal to him. This bit of a girl, so slim that he could break her in his hands, was game to the core. He recognized it as a quality of kinship. “How do you know the girl ain’t a badger-worker? You wantta go slow when you tackle Jerry Durand. I can tell you one thing. He’s in this business up to the neck. I seen his shadow, Gorilla Dave, coinin’ outa the house next door twice today.” “Seen anything of the girl?” “Nope. But she may be there. Honest, you’re up against a tough game. Why don’t you lay down on it?” she asked, her frank eyes searching his. “You soitainly will if you've got good sense.” “Im goin’ through.” Her black eyes warmed. “Say, I’ll bet you're some guy when you get started. Hop to it and I hope you get Jerry good. Say, listen! I got a hunch mebbe it’s a bum steer, but you can’t be sure till you try it. Why don’t you get in through the instead o’ the window?” “Can I get in that way?” “Surest think you know —if the trapdoor ain’t latched. Say, stick around outside my room half a sec, will yoiii?” The cattleman waited in the darkness of the passage. If his enemies “Say, Why Don't You Go Into the Movies and Be One of These Here Screen Ideals?” were trying to ambush him in the house next door the girl’s plan might save him. He would have a chance at least to get them unexpectedly in the rear. It could have been scarcely more than two minutes later that the young . woman joined him. They padded soft- , ly along the corridor till they came to . a flight of stairs running up. The ■ girl led the way, taking the treads i without noise in her stockinged feet, i Clay followed with the utmost caution, i She/took him toward the rear to a ladder which ended at a dormer half- > dopr leading to the roof. Clay fumbled

By WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE

with his fingers, found a hook, unfastened it,"and pushed open the trap. He looked up into a starlit night and a moment later stepped out upon the roof. Presently the slim figure of the girl stood beside him. They moved across to a low wall, climbed it and came to the dormer door of the next house. Clay knelt and lifted it an inch or two very slowly. He lowered it again and rose. “I’m a heap obliged to you. Miss.” he said in a low voice. “You’re a game little gentleman.” She nodded. “My name is Annie Millikan.” “Mine is Clay Lindsay. I want to come and thank you proper some day.” “I take tickets at Heath’s Palace of Wonders two blocks down,” she whispered. “Look out for yourself. Don’t let ’em get you. Give ’em a chance, ami that gang would croak you sure. Yoq will be careful, won’t you?” “I neverTthrew down on myself yet.” The girlfc flippancy broke out again. “Say, lemjue know when the weddin’ is and I’ll send you a salad bowl,” she flashed at him saucily, as lie turned to go. Clay was already busy with the door. Darkness engulfed him as he closed the trapdoor overhead. His exploring feet found each tread of the ladder with the utmost caution. Near the foot of it he stopped to listen for any sound that might serve to guide him. None came. The passage was as noiseless as it was dark. Again he had that sense of cold finger-tips making a keyboard of, his spine. But lie trod down the panic and set his will to carry on. lie crept forward along the passage. Every step or two he stopped to listen, nerves keyed to an acute tension. A flight of stairs brought him to what he knew must be the second floor. To him there floated a murmur of sounds. He soft-footed it closer, reached the door, and-dropped noiselessly to a knee. A key was in the lock on the outside. With infinite precaution against rattling lie turned it, slid it out, and dropped it in ills coat pocket. His eye fastened to the opening. Three men were sitting round a table. They were making a bluff at playing cards, but their attention was focused on a door that evidently led Into another room. Two automatic revolvers were on the table close to the hands of .their owners. A blackjack lay in front of the third man. Clay recognized him as Gorilla Dave. The other two were strangers to him. Something evil in the watchfulness of the three chilled momentarily his veins. These fellows were the gunmen of New York he had read about —paid assassins whose business it was to frame innocent men for the penitentiary or kill tlmm in cold blood. They were of the Underworld, without conscience tiiut without honor. A soft step sounded in the corridor behind the man at the keyhole. He had not time to crawl away nor even to rise before a man stumbled against him. Clay had one big advantage over his opponent. He had been given an instant of warning. His right arm went up around the neck of his foe and tightened there. His left hand turned the doorknob. Next moment the two men crashed into the room together, the Westerner rising to his feet as they came, witli the body of the other lying across his back from hip to shoulder. Gorilla Dave leaped to ins feet. The other two gunmen, caught at disadvantage a few feet from the table, dived for their automatics. They were too late. Clay swung his body., downward from the waist with a quick, strong jerk. The man on his back shot heels over head as though lie had been hurled from a catapult, crashed face up on the table, and dragged it over with him in his forward plunge to the wall. Before any one else could move or speak, Lindsay’s gun was out. “Easy now.” His voice was a gentle drawl that carried a menace. “Leinme be boss of the rodeo a while. No, Gorilla, I wouldn’t play with that club if I was you. I’m sure h —l-a-mile on tliis gunstuff. Drop it I” The last two words came sharp and crisp, for the big thug had telegraphed an unintentional warning of his purpose to dive at the man behind the thirtyeight. Gorilla Dave’s fingers opened and the blackjack dropped from Ills hand to the floor. “For the love o’ Mike, x\ho is this guy?” demanded one of the other men. “I’m the fifth member of our little I party,” explained Clay. “Wot fell do youse mean? And j what’s the big idea in most killin’ the I chief?” The man who had been flung across the table turned over and groaned. Clay would have known that face among a thousand. It belonged to Jer-, ry Durand. “I came in at the wrong door and without announcin' myself,” said the cattleman, almost lazily, the unhurried Indolence of his manner not shaken. “You see I wanted to be on time so as not to keep you waitin’. I’m Clay Lindsay.” The more talkative of the gunmen from the East side flashed one look at the two automatics lying on the floor beside the overturned table. They might as well have been In Brazil for all the good they were to him. “Move over to the other side of the room, Gorilla, and join yore two friends,” suggested the master of ceremonies. “And don’t make any mistake. If you do you won’t have time to be sorry for It. I’ll ce’talnly shoot to kill.” The big-shouldered thug shuffled oyer. Clay stepped sideways, watchrfg the three gunmen every foot of the

SYRACUSE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL

■ i way, kicked the automatics into the | open, and took possession of them. | I He felt safer with the revolvers in his ■ ■ coat pocket, for they had been within ; reach of Durand, and tliat member ’ ; of the party was showing signs of a re- | I turn to active interest in the proceed- | ings. “When I get you right I’ll croak you. I By G —d, I will,” swore the gang lead- ! er savagely, nursing his battered head “No big stiff from file bushes can run anything over on me.” “I believe you.” retorted Clay easily. “That is. I believe you’re fellin’ me yore intentions straight. There’s no news in that to write home about. But you’d better make that if instead jof when. This is three cracks you've had at me and l‘m still a right healthy rube.” “Don’t bank on fool luck any more. I’ll get you sure.” cried Durand sourly. The gorge of the Arizonan rose. ’’Mebbeso. You’re a dirty dog. Jerry Durand. From the beginning you were a rotten fighter—in the ring and out of it. You and yore strong-arm men! Do you think I’m afraid of you because you surround yoreself with dips ami yeggmen and hopnuts, all scum I KM— g Cut Off From the Street, Clay Took to the Roof Again, of the gutter and filth of the earth? Where I come from men fight clean and out in the open. They’d stomp you out like a rattlesnake.’’ He whipped open the door, stepped out, closed it, and took the key from ids pocket, A moment, and he had turned the lock. From within there came a rush that shook the panels. Clay was already busy searching for Kitty. He tore open door after door, calling her loudly by name. Even in the darkness lie could see that the rooms were empty of furniture. There was a crash of splintering panels, the sound of a bursting lock. Almost as though it were an echo of it came a heavy pounding upon the street door. Clay guessed that the thirty minutes were up and that the Runt was bringing the police. He dived back into one of the empty rooms just in time to miss a rush of men pouring along the passage to the stairs. Cut off from the street, Clay took to the roof again. It would not do for him to be caught in the bouse by the police. He climbed the ladder, pushed liis way through the trapdoor opening, and breathed deeply of the night air. But he had no time to lose. Already he could hear the trampling of feet up the stairs to the second story. Lightly he vaulted the wall and, came to the roof door leading down to number 123. He found it latched. The eaves of the roof projected so far that he could not from there get a hold on the window casings below. He made a vain circuit of the roof, then passed to the next house. Again he was out of luck. The tenants had made safe the entrance against prowlers of the night. He knew that at any moment now the police might appear in pursuit of him. Theie was no time to lose. He crossed to the last house in the block —and found himself barred out. As he rose from his knees he heard the voices of men clambering through the scuttle to the roof. At the same rime he saw that which brought hlin to instant action. It was a rope clothesline which ran from post to post, dangling from one corner of the building to another and back to the opposite > one. No man in Manhattan’s millions I knew the value of a rope or could handle one more expertly than this cattleman. His knife was open before he had reached the nearest post. Jjwr'strong slash of the blade severed It. In six long strides he was at the second post unwinding the line. He used his knife a second time at the third post. With deft motions Clay worked swiftly. He was fastening the rope to the chimney of the house. Every Instant he expected to hear a voice raised In excited discovery of him crouched in the shadows. But his fingers were as sure and as steady as though he had minutes before him instead of seconds. “TheriVs the guy—over by the ehimney.” Clay threw the slack of the line from theVoof. He had no time to test the strength of the rope nor its length. As the pollee rushed him he slid over the edge and began to lower himself hand under hand. The wide eaves protected him. A man would have to hang out from the wail above the ledge to see him.

[ Clay’s eyes were on the gutter above | I while lie jerked his way down a foot i lat a time. A face and part of a body swung out into sight. I “We’ve got yuh. Come back, or I'll | i shoot,” a voice called down. A revolver showed against the black . [ sky. The man from Arizona did not answer and did not stop. He knew tiiat shooting from above is an art that few men have acquired. A bullet sang past his ear just as lie swung in and crouched on the window- i sill. Another one hit the bricks close ! to his bead. The firing stopped. A pair of uni- , formed legs appeared dangling from the eaves. A body and a head fol- ; lowed these. They began to descend < jerkily. Clay took a turn at the gun-play. He fired his revolver into the air. The spasmodic jerking =of the blue legs : abruptly ceased. “Yuh’d better give up quietly. We’re bound to get yuh.” an officer shouted from the roof byway of parley. The cattieman did not answer except by the smashing of glass. He had forced his way into two houses within ' tlie past hour. He was now busy j breaking into a third. The window had < not yielded to pressure. Therefore he was knocking out the glass witli the , butt of his revolver. He crawled through tlie opening just as some one sat up in bed witli \ a frightened exclamation. “Who —is —s—s —s it?” a masculine voice asked, teetli chattering. Clay had no time to gratify idle : I curiosity. He ran through tlie room. I reached tlie head of tlie stairs and went down on the banister to tire first | floor. He fled back to tlie rear of tlie house and stole out by the kitchen door. Tlie darkness of the alley swallowed : him, but he could still hear the shouts ■ of tlie men on tlie roof and answering ones from new arrivals below. Five minutes later he was on board a street car. He was not at all particular as to its destination. He wanted to be anywhere but here. This neighborhood was getting entirely too active for him. CHAPTER IX — I The Gangman Sees Red. Exactly thirty minutes after Clay had left him to break into tlie house. Johnnie lifted his voice in a lotld wail for tlie police. He hall read somewhere that one can never find an officer when he is wanted, but the Bull-of-Bashan roar of tlie cowpuncher brought them running from all directions. Out of the confused explanations of tlie range-rider tlie first policeman to reach him got two lucid statements. “They’re white-slavin’ a straight girl. This buslrer says his pal went in to rescue her half an hour ago and hasn’t showed up since,” lie told his mates. With Johnnie bringing up the rear they made a noisy attack on tlie front door of Number 121. Almost immediately it was opened from the inside. Four men had come down tlie stairs in a headlong rush to cut off the escape of one who had outwitted and taunted them. Those who wanted to get in and those who wanted to get out all tried to talk nt once, but as soon as the police recognized Jerry Durand they gave him tlie floor. “We're after a flat-worker,” explained tlie ex-pugilist. “He must lie try in’ for a roof getaway.” lie turned and led tlie joint forces back< up tlie stairs. Thugs and officers surged up after him, carrying with them in their rush the Runt. He presently found himself on the roof witli those engaged in a man-hunt for his friend. When Clay shattered tlie window and disappeared inside after his escape from tlie roof, Johnnie gave a deep sigh of relief. Tliis gun-play got on ills nerves, since ! Lindsay was tlie target of it. The bandy-legged rafige-rider was

FAMOUS AS WRITERS OF HUMOR ■■ - —

Americans Who Made Their Names Celebrated Were Essentially Men of Highest Character. “Bill Nye,” our own Edgar Wilson Nye, leaped into fame while writing humorous sketches for the Laramie 1 Boomerang, of which lie was> editor. | The name of “Bill Nye” was bestowed ; on him by his office associates, ills ; book, “Baled Hay,” was very popula. I for a time, but, like much humorous writing, its popularity was ephemeral. “Bill Nye” was much loved by all who knew him. He was considered “the greatest American liar.” William T. Adams was the noted “Oliver Optic,” who wrote more than a thousand stories. He died much mourned by young readers, for whotfi most of his books were written. Under the name of Artemus Ward, Charles F. Browne made a worldwide reputation as a lecturer and humorist. He was an Inimitable wag; his humor was irrespressible and kept all about him In a constant state of merriment. He was the first writer to adopt phonetic spelling. He died in 1809. “Ell Perkins” was contemporary with “Artemus Ward,” and It was Ward who bestowed the nom de plume upon him. Melville D. Landon was essentially a “funny man.” but not truly a humorist. He was a gentle, kindly man and one who loved his fellows. Henry W. Shaw was the “Josh Billings” of humor and homely philosophy. He was kicked Into fame by his “Essa on the Muel,” which netted him SLSO. his first money earned In,

I still trailing along with the party ten i minutes later when its scattered inem- ! bers drew together in tacit admission j that the hunted man had escaped. The gang leader was in a vile temper. If this story reached the newkI papers all New York would be laugh- | itig at him. He could appeal to the police, have Clay Lindsay arrested, and get him sent up for a term on the charge of burglary. But lie could not do it without the whole tale coming ' out. One thing Jerry Durand could not stand was ridicule. His vanity j was one of his outstanding qualities, and he did not want it widely known ! that the boob he had intended to trap { had turned tlie tables on him, man- ; handled him, jeered at him and locked I him in a room witli his three lienchI men. Johnnie Green chose this malapropos < moment for reminding the-officers of ■ rite reason for tlie coming to the I house. “What about the young lady?” he asked solicitously. Durand wheeled on him, looked him over with an insolent, malevolent eye, and jerked a thumb in his direction. I r | “Who is tliis guy ? “He’s the fellow tipped us off his pal I was inside,” answered one of the patrolmen. He spoke in a whisper close jto the ear of “Jerry. “Likely he knows 1 more than he lets on. Shall I make a pinch?” « The eyes of the gang leader nari rowed. “So lie’s a friend.of this sec- < olid-story bird, is lie?” ! “Y’betclia I” chirped up Johnnie. : “and I'm plumb tickled to take his ' dust. t<x». Now, about tliis yere young lady—” Jerry caught him hard on the side of the jaw with a short-arm jolt. The range-rider hit tlie pavement hard. Slowly lie got to his feet nursing Ms |cheek. , “What yuh do that for. doggone it?” he. demanded resentfully. “Me, I j wasn't lookin’ for no trouble. Me, I—” Durand leaped at him across the sidewalk. His strong fingers closed on the throat of the bow-legged puncher. The officers pried Jerry loose from his victim with the greatest difficulty. He tried furiously to get at him, i lunging from the meh who were holding his arms. The puncher sank helplessly against tlie wall. “He’s got all he can carry, Mr. Durand,” one of the bluecoats said, soothingly. “You don’t wantta croak the little guy. Gimme the word, an’ I’ll run him in for a drunk.” Jerry shook his head. “Nope. Let him go, I’ete.” The policeman walked up to the Runt and caught him roughly by the arm. “Move along outa here. I’d ought to pinch you, but I’m not gonna do it this time, see? You beat it!” Durand turned to one of his followers. “Tail that fellow. Find oat where lie's stayin’ and report.” Helplessly Johnnie went staggering down the street. He did not understand wily lie had been treated so, but the instinct of self-preservation carried him out of the danger zone without argument about it. Even as he wobbled away he wa& looking with unwavering faith to his friend to right his wrongs. Clay would fix this fellow Durand for what he had done to him. 'Clay did his best under the handicap of a lack of entente between him and tlie authorities to search New Yoflc for Kitty. He used the personal columns of the newspapers. He got in touch with taxicab drivers, ticket-sel-lers. postmen, and station guards. All the time he knew that in such a maze as Manhattan it would be a miracle if he found her. “I’ll be sayin’ good-by, Miss Beatrice, until you send for me.” 1 (TO BE CONTINUED.)

# literature, lie traveled and lectured extensively on “The Probabilities of Life; Perhaps Rain, Perhaps Not.” He said: “There’s cheats in all things; even pizen is adulterated.”. He was a delightful man and never did a mean j thing in his life, and never had an i enemy among good men. “Josh Billj ings” died of apoplexy in Monterey, Cal. The Middle Ages. The Middle ages was a period of about a thousand years in the history of Europe, beginning with the fall of the Roman empire in 476 A. D., and ending with the fall of the eastern Roman empire in 1543 A. D. The Middle ages include the years between the close of the classic times and the dawn of the modern era, and constituted the epoch of feudalism, chivalry and the Crusades. According to Hallam. the Middle ages comprise about LOOO years, from the Invasion of France by Clovis in 476 to that of Naples by Charles VIII In 1494. From the close of the Middle ages came the Invention of printing, the discovery of America and the revival of learning In the Fifteenth century. Laqd Rich In Bird*. More than 650 species of land birds have been found in that little Central American republic Costa Rica, whereas, in all America north of Mexico only 500 species are known. The figures ■gh e some conception of Centra) American Wri) UfA

MRS. ABBEY PROUD OF HER BIG GAIN Weight Increased 39 Pounds and Nine Years' Trouble Ended. “I hardly see how I endured such awful suffering, and if It hadn’t been for Tanlac I don’t believe I would be here today,” said Mrs. Mollie Abbey, of Jennings Lodge, Ore. “For nine years everything I ate caused gas to form so that it almost drove me distracted. I didn't dare eat any fruit and for four years if I even drank a glass of cold water I would suffer dreadfully. No one who didn’t sed me can imagine the awful condition 1 was in. “But Tanlac changed all this and now I’m simply feeling fine. My appetite is splendid. I eat anything I want, have actually gained thirty-nine pounds and have so much strength and energy I easily do all my housework. Tanlac is a wonderful medicine.’’ Tanlac is sold by all good druggists. —Advertisement. Evidently a Good Riddance. “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Jibway. “Mrs. Clipping next door has lost her little poodle.” “Are you sure it’s lost?” asked Mr. Jibway. “Oh, yes.. She’s looked everywhere. And when you go out you might speak a word of condolence to her.” “I can’t do that,” said Mr. Jibway, “but I’ll try to keep my face straight, and I promise not to jump in the air and crack my heels together until I get around the corner.” —Birmingham Age» Herald. Befogging the Jury. “Smart lawyer you have.” “He seems to said Mr. Cobbles, “but 1 don’t know whether , he’s the man to help me witli my lawsuit or not.” “AVhat’s the matter with him?” “Oil, he’s powerfully sharp, but I don't see any use of quoting famous Greeks and Romans and a lot of other people 1 never heard of before simply because a train ran over my Jersey cow.” —Exchange. Health is not just the absence of disease. It is tlie ability to resist disease. Not all men who yearn to get something for nothing go to jail Some of them go to the poorhouse. Sure Relief FOR INDIGESTION I water Sure Relief Bell-ans 254 and 754 Packages. Everywhere A TRUE RAT STORY Auburntown, Tenn.. June 22, 1923. Stearns Electric Paste Co., Chicago, ni. Mr. Robert T. Donnell of Auburntown, Tenn., came in our store the other day and wanted something to kill rats, so I sold him a box Stearns Rat Paste. And he put some paste on six biscuits that night and the next morning he found fifty-four big rats. And the second night he put out four more biscuits with paste on them, and the second morning he found seventeen more rats, making a total of seventy-one rats in two nights, and there were lots more that he did not find. This is some big rat tale. but. nevertheless. it is so. Just thought would write to let you know that your rat paste is good. Respectfully yours, KENNEDY BROTHERS. Buy a 35c Box of Stearns* Electric Paste Today Enough to Kill 50 to 100 Rats or Mice. Don’t waste time trying to kill these peste ■with powders, liquids and other experimental preparations. Retuiy for Use—Better Than Traps, Drug and General Stores sell STEARNS’ ELECTRIC PASTE B are usually due to straining ■ when constipated. | Nujol being a lubricant ■ keeps the food waste soft ■ and therefore prevents I straining. Doctors prescribe I Nujol because it not only I soothes the suffering of I piles but relieves the irritaI tion, brings comfort and ■ helps to remove them. Nujol is a ■ I ) lubricant—not H —jg l a medicine or Lj£xi}ql» laxative —so H cannot gripe. W | 11 a> . A LAXATIVE Tomorrow Alright NR Tablets stop sick headaches, relieve bilious attacks, tone and regulate the eliminative organs, make you feel fine. “Better Than Pilis For Liver Ills” ■ i 26c. Box. - wTnTuTfORT WAYNE, NO. 32-1922.