The Syracuse and Lake Wawasee Journal, Volume 15, Number 18, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 31 August 1922 — Page 2

The Big-Town Round Up • v By William MacLeod Raine Copyright by William MacLeod Raine

, CLAY AND DURAND. 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 g'Trl leaves the car and is attacked by a wild steer. A masterpiece of riding on the part of one of the cowboys save.! her life. Then the story begins: Clay Lindsay, rangerider on an Arizona ranch, announces his intention to visit the “big town," New York. On the train Clay becomes interested in a young woman. Kitty Mason, on her way to New York to become a motion-picture actress. She ie marked as fair prey by a fellow traveler, Jerry Durand, gang politician ai«*l ex-prize fighter. Clay provokes a quarrel and throws Durand front the train. On his first day in New York Clay is splashed with water by a Janitor. That individual the raqge-rider punishes 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 Whitford. He meets Kitty Mason by J accident. She has been disappointed in her stage aspirations. Clay visits her. Kitty is insulted by a customer. Clay punishes the annoyer. Outside, he is attacked by Jerry Durand and a companion and beaten insensible. Clay’s acquaintance with Beatrice Whitford ripens. His "side partner” on the Arizona ranch. Johnnie , Oreen, comes to the “big town,” The two take an apartment together. Word comes that Kitty Mason is In trouble. Clay goes to the rescue and is helped by Annie Millikan. He comes on a parly of "gunmen,” obviously waiting for his appearance. Clay “gets'the drop” on the thugs, locks them hi a room and escapes. -With a theater party, which includes the Whitfords, Clay meets Kitty Mason, friendless and penniless. He leaves the party to take the girl to his apartment. Beatrice resents Lindsay's interest in Kitty. The two men part in anger. Hurt and indignant, Beatrice practically proposes marriage to an old admirer, Clare n,c e Bromtteld, 1 wealthy man-about-town. Their engagement is announced. Durand's gang Kidnaps Kitty. Clay appeals to Annie Millikan, who tells him where the girl is likely to be found. i —— — i| CHAPTER Xll—Continued. Johnnie's ease was not so hopeless is he Imagined it. * * * * * * • Over their good-night smoke Clay gave a warning. “Keep yore eyes »pen, Johnnie. I was trailed to tile house today by one of the fellows with Durand the night I called on him. It tpells trouble. I reckon the Taches lire going to leave the reservation again.” “Say, Clay, ain't you gottin’ homesick for the whinin' of tt rawhide? Wha’s the matter with us hittin’ the dust for good old Tucson? I’d sure Like to chase cowtails again.” “You can go, Johnnie. I’m not ready pet—quite. And when I go it won’t he because of any rattlesnake in the grass.” "Whadyou mean I can go? If this Jerry Durand’s trying to got you I’ll be there followin’ yore dust, old scout.” “There’s more than one way to skin « cat. Mebbe the fellow means to itrlke at me through you or Kitty. I’ve a mind to put you both on a train {or The B-in-a-Box ranch.” “You can put the liT girl on a train. You can’t put me on none less’n you go too,” answered his shadow, stoutly. “Then see you don’t get drawn into' ttny quarrels while you and Kitty are Rway from the house. Stick to. the lighted streets. I think I’ll speak to her about not lettin’ any strange man talk to her. I think she had better not go out unless one of us is with her." “Suits me. And don’t you take any vhances, old-timer. That goes double. I'm the cautious guy in this outfit, not jou." Within twenty-four hours Clay heard some one pounding wildly on the outer door of the apartment and the voice Df the cautious guy imploring haste. “Lemme in, Clay. Hurry! Hurry!” be shouted. Lindsay was at the door in four Rtrides, but he did not need to see the stricken woe of his friend's face to guess what had occurred. For Johnnie und Kitty had started together to see k picture play two hours earlier. “They done took Kitty—in an auto,” be gasped. “Right before my eyes. Claimed a lady had fainted.’’ “Who took her?” “I dunno. Some men. Turned the trick slick, me never liftin’ a hand. Ain’t I a heluva man?” “Hold yore hawsses, son. Don’t get excH*,d. Begin at the beginnin’ and tell me all about it,’’ Clay told him, juietly. “We was cornin’ home an’ I took Kitty into that Red Star drug" store tor to get her some ice cream. Well, right after that I been] a man say how the lady had fainted—” “What lady?” “The lady in the machine.” “Were you in the drug store?” “No. We’d jes’ come out when this Here automobile drew up an’ a man Jumped out holferin’ the lady had fainted and would I bring a glass o’ water from the drug store. ’Course I got a jump on me and Kitty she moved ip closeter to the car to he’p If she r»uld. When I got back to the walk with the water the man was hoppin’ back into the car. It was already movin’. He slammed the door shut and it went up the street like greased lightBin’.” “Get the number?” “No. I—l plumb forgot to look.” Clay slipped a revolver under his lelt. He slid into a street coat.' Then he got police headquarters on the wire snd notified the office of what had jnken place. It had come on to rain and bereath 3u> sfcreat lights the asulmlt shone like 4

a river. The storm had driven most people indoors, but as the westerner drew near the drug store Clay saw with relief a taxicab draw up outside. Its driver, crouched in his seat behind the waterproof apron as far hack as possible from the rain, promptly accepted Lindsay as a fare. “Back In a minute,” Clay told him, and passed Into the drug store. The abduction was still being discussed. lie pushed home questions as to identification. One of the men In the drug store had caught a flash of the car number, lie was sure the first four figures were 39G7. The fifth he did not remember. The car was durk blue and It looked like a taxi. This information Clay got the owner of the store to forward to the police. He did not wait to give it personally, but joined Johnnie in the cab. The address he gave to the driver with the waterproof hat pulled down over his head was that of a certain place of amusement known as Heath’s Palace of Wonders. A woman he wanted to consult was wont to sit behind a window there at ihe receipt of customs. Miss Annie Millikan’s pert smile beamed through the window at Clay when lie stepped ftp. “Hello, Mr. Flat-Worker,” she sang out. “How many?” Clay explained that his business was serious. “I’ve got to see you alone — now,” he added. “If you gotta you gotta.” The girl called an usher, who found a second usher to take her place. Annie walked down the street a few steps beside Clay. , “Wjhat’s the big idea in callin’ me from; live job in the rush hours?” she asked. Clay told his story. “Some of Jerry’s strong-arm work,” she commented. “Must be. Can you help me?” Annie looked straight at him, a humorous little quirk to her mouth. “Say, what’re you askin’ me to do — t’row down my steady?” Annie was pretty, and inevitably she had lovers. One of these was “Slim” Jim Collins, confidential follower of Jerry Durand. He \yas a crook, and she knew it. But some quality in him —his good looksr-perhnps, or ills gameness—fascinated her in spite of herself. She avoided him, even while she found herself pleased to go to Coney with an escort so well dressed and so glibly confident. Another of her admirers was a policeman, Tim Muldoon by name, the same one that had rescued Clay from the savagery of Durand outside the Sea Siren. Tim she liked. But for all his Irish ardor he was wary. He had never asked her to marry him. She thought she knew the reason. He did not want for a wife a woman who had been “Slim” Jim’s girl. Clay had come to Annie Millikan now because of what she had told him about “Slim” Jim. This man was one of Durand's stand-bys. If there was! any underground work to he done it was odds-on chance that he would be in charge of it. “I’m askin’ you to stnnd by a poor girl that’s in trouble,” lie said in answer to her question. “You wouldn’t let Durand spoil her life if you could stop it.” “Well, what’s my cue? Where do I come In on this rescue-tlie-beautiful heroine aet?” “When did you see ‘Slim’ Jim last?” “I might ’a’ seen him this afternoon an’ I might not,” she said cautiously, looking at him from under a broad hat-brim. “Say, what’s the lay-out? Are you framin’ Jim for up the river?” “I’m tryin’ to save Kitty.” “Because she’s your goil. Where do I come In’at? What’s there in it for sl\ (Hstgims s' “What's the tsig idea m Calling Me From Me Job in the Rush Hour*?* me to go rnppin’ me friend?” demanded Annie sharply. “She’s not my girl,” explained Clay. Then, with that sure instinct / that sometimes guided him, he added, “The young lady I —l’m in love with has just become engaged to another man." Miss Millikan looked at him, frankly incredulous. “For the love .o’ Mike, where’s her eyes? Don’t she know a real man when she sees one? I’ll say she don’t.” A flush beat Into Annie’s cheeks. She went off swiftly at a tangent, “Wouldn’t it give a fellow a jar? This guy Jim Collins slips it to me confidential that he’s off the crooked stuff. Nothin’ doin’ a-tall in gorilla work. He kids me that he’s quit goln’ out on the spml and porchcllmbin’ don’t look good to him no more. A four-room flat, a little wife, an’ the straight road for”'‘Slim’ * JiiV f'fairtdr If,; thoifgir

SYRACI SE AND LAKE WAWASEE JOURNAL

I’d orta be hep to men. An’ he dates me up tonight for the chauffeurs’ ball.” “But you didn’t go?” “No; lie sidesteps it this aft with a fairy tale about drivin’ a rich old dame out to Yonkers. All the time he was figurin’ on plnehin’ this goil for Jerry. He’s a rotten crook.” “What color is ‘Slim’ Jim’s car?” “A dirty blue. Why?" “That was the car.” Annie lifted her hands In a little gesture of despair. “I’m dead sick of this game. What’s there in it? 1 live straight and eat in a beanery. No lobster palaces in mine. Look at me cheap duds. And Tim gives me the over like I was a street cat. What sort of a chance did I ever have, with toughs and gunmen for me friends?" “You’ve got yore chance now. Annie. Tim will hop off that fence .he’s on and light a runnin’ straight for you if he thinks you’ve ditched ‘Slim’ Jim.. You don’t owe Jerry Durand anything, anyhow. Where would lie have Kitty taken? You can give a guess." She had made her decision before she spoke. “Gimme paper and a pencil." On Clay’s notebook she scrawled hurriedly an address. “Jim’d croak me if he knew I’d given this,” she said, looking straight at the cattleman. “He’ll never know —and I’ll never forget it, Annie.” Clay left her and turned to the driver. From the slip of paper lq his hand he read aloud an address.. As Clay slummed the door shut and the car moved forward he had an impression of something gone wrong, of a cog in his plans slipped somewhere. For Annie, standing in the rain under a sputtering misty street light, showed a face stricken with fear. Her dilated eyes were fixed on the driver of the taxicab. CHAPTER XII. Two Men in a Locked Room. Some sixth sense of safety—one that comes to many men who live in the outdoors on the untamed frontier — warned Clay that all was not well. The machine had swung to the right and was facing from the wind instead of into it. Clay was not very well acquainted with New York, but he did know this was not the direction in which lie wanted to go. Lindsay opened the door and swung out on the running board. “We’re goln’ wrong. Stop the car!” he ordered. The man at the wheel did not turn. He speeded up. His fare wasted no time in remonstrances. A moment, and the chauffeur threw on the brake sharply. His reason was a good one. The' blue nose of a revolver was jammed hard against his ribs. He had looked round once to find out what it was prodding him. That was enougli to convince him he had better stop. Under the brake the back wheels skidded and brought up against the curb. Clay, hanging on by one hand, was flung hard to the sidewalk. The cab teetered, regained its equilibrium, gathered impetus with a snort, and leaped forward again. As the cattleman clambered to his feet lie caught one full view of the chauffeur’s triumphant, vindictive face. He had seen it before, at a reception especially arranged for him by Jerry Durand one memorable night. It belonged to the more talkative of the two gunmen he had surprised at the pretended poker game. He knew, too, without being told that this man and “Slim” Jim Collins were one and the same. The memory of Annie’s stricken face carried this conviction home to him. The rain pelted down as he moved toward the brighter lighted street that intersected the one where lie had been dropped. The lights of a saloon caught his eye at the corner. He went in, got police headquarters on the wire, and learned that a car answering the description of the one used by his abductor had been headed into Central ,park by officers and that the downtown exits were being watched. Presently lie picked up another taxi. He hesitated whether to go to the address Annie had given him or to join the chase uptown. Reluctantly, he decided to visit the house. Clay paid His driver and looked at the house numbers as he moved up the street lie wanted. Many of the residences were keep lodgers in. Others were employed for less reputable purposes. His overcoat buttoned to his neck, Clay walked without hesitation up the steps of the one numbered 243. He rang the hell and waited, his right hand in the pocket of his overcoat. The door opened cautiously a few Inches and a pair of close-set eyes in a wrinkled face gimleted Clay. “Whadya want?” “The old man sent me with a message,” answered the Arizonan promptly. “Got everything ready for the girl ?” “Say, who the h—l are youse?” “One of Slim's friends. Listen, we got the kid—picked her. up at a drug store.” “I don’ know watcher fairy tale’s about.” Chiy put his foot against the door to prevent it from being closed and drew his hand from the overcoat pocket. In the hand nestled a blue-nosed persuader. Unless the eyes peering into the night were bad barometers of their owner’s inner state, he was in a panic of fear. “Love o’ Gawd, d-don’t shoot!” he chattered. “I ain’t uobody but the caretaker.” He hacked slowly away, followed by ' Lindsay. Tire barrel vt the thirtg-

eight held his eyes fascinated. By the light of his flash Clay discovered the man to be a chalk-faced little Inconsequent. “Say, don’t point that at me,” the old fellow implored. "Are you alone?" “You know it.” “Is Jerry coinin’ himself with the others?” “They don’t none of them tell me nothin’. I’m nobody. I'm only Joey.” “Unload what you know. Quick. I'm in a hurry.” The man began a rambling, winning tale. The Arizonan learned that a roo,m had been prepared on the second floor for a woman. Slim bird made the arrangements. Joe had heard Durand's j name mentioned, but knew nothing of the plans. “I’ll look the house over. Move, along in front of me and don’t make any mistakes. This six-gun is liable to permeate yore anatomy with lead.” Tile cattleman examined the first floor with an especial view Jo the exits. He might have to leave in a hurry. if so, lie wanted to know where lie was going. The plan of the second story was another point lie featured as he passed swiftly from room to room. From the laundry in the basement he had brought up a coil of clothes-line. With this he tied .Toe hand and foot. After gagging him, he left the man locked in a small rear room and took the key with him. Clay knew that lie was in a precarious situation. If Durand returned with Kitty and captured him here he was lost. The man would make no more mistakes. Certainly lie would leave no evidence against him except that of his own tools. The intruder would probably not be killed openly. He would either simply disappear or lie would he murdered with witnesses framed to show self-defense. The cattleman was as much outside the law as the criminals were. He had no legal business in this house. But one thing was fixed in his mind. He would be no inactive victim. If they got him at all it would be only after a fighting finish. To Clay, standing at the head of the stairs, came a sound that stiffened him to a tense wariness. A key was .being turned in the lock of the street door below. He moved back into the deeper shadows as the door swung open. Two men entered. One of them cursed softly as he stumbled against a chair in the dark hall. •Where’s that rat Joe?" he demanded in a subdued voice. Then cunie a click of the lock.. The sound of the street rain ceased. Clay knew that the door had been closed and that he was shut in with two desperate criminals. What have they done with Kitty? Why was she not with them? He asked himself that question even as he slipped back into a room that opened to the left. He groped his way through the darkness, for he dared not flash his light to guide him. His fingers found the edge of a desk. Round that he circled toward a closet he remembered having noted. His arm brushed the closet door. Next moment he was inside and hud closed it softly behind him. And none too soon. For into the room came the gunmen almost on his heels. “Jerry’ll raise h—l,” a heavy voice was saying as' they entered the room. “And that ain't all. We’ll land In stir if we don’t look out. We just ducked a bad fall. The hulls pretty near had us that time we poked our nose out from the” park at Seventy-second street.” Some one pressed a button and the room leaped to light. Through the open crack of the closed door Clay! recognized Gorilla Dave. The second' of tlie gunmen was out of range of his vision. From the sound of creaking furniture Clay judged that the unseen man had sat down heavily. “It was that blowout queered us. And say—how came the bulls -so hot on our trail? Who rapped to ’em?” “Must ’a’ been that boob wit’ the goil. He got busy quick. Well, Jerry, won’t have to salve the cops this time. We made our getaway all right,” said Dave. “Say, where's Joey?” “Bulled a sneak likely. Wha’s it matter? Listen! What’s that?” Some one was coming up the stairs. The men in the room moved cautiously to the door. The hall light was switched on. ' “Lo, Jerry,” Gorilla Dave called softly. He closed the room door and the sound of the voices was shut off instantly. The uninvited guest dared not step out of the closet, to listen, for at any instant the men might re-euter. He crouched in his hiding place, the thir-tv-eight in his hand. ‘ The minutes dragged interminably. More than once Clay almost made up his 'mind to steal out to learn what the men were doing. But ids judgment told him he must avoid a brush with so many if possible. The door opened again. “Now beat it and do as I say if you know what’s good for you,” a bullying voice was ordering. The owner of the voice came in and slammed the door behind him. He sat down at the desk, his back to the closet. Through the chink Clay saw that the man was Jerry Durand. From his vest pocket he took a fat black cigar, struck a match and lit it. He slumped down in the swivel chair. It took no seer to divine that his mind was busy working out a problem. Clay stepped softly from his Dlm»

•i leiuge. out not so noiselessly that the gangman did not detect his presence. Jerry swung round in the chair and leaped upi with catlike' activity. He stood Without moving, poised on the halls of his feet, ills deep-set eyes narrowed to shining slits. It was in his thought to hurl himself headlong on the man holding steadily the menacing revolver. “Don't you! I’ve got the dead wood on you.” said the Arizonan, a trenchant saltness in his speech. “I’ll shoot you down sure as h—l’s hot.” Durand’s face wore an ugly look of impotent malice. Hut His throat was dry as a lime kiln. He could not estimate the danger that confronted him nor what lay back of the man’s presence. “What you doin’ here?” he demanded. “Makin’ riiy party call,” retorted Clay easily. Jerry cursed him with a low, savage stream of profanity. The gangman enraged was not a sight pleasing to see. “I reckon heaven, h —l, and high water couldn’t keep you from eussin’ now. Relieve yore mind proper, Mr. Durand. Then we’ll talk business.” murmured Clay In the low, easy drawl that never suggested weakness. The ex-prize-fighter's flow of language dried up. He fell silent and j stoisl swallowing his furious rage. It j had come home to him that this nar- I “Love o’ Gawd, D-don’t Shoot!" He Chattered. “I Ain’t Nobody but the Caretaker.” C3C. row-flanked young fellow with the close-gripped jaw and the cool, steady eyes was entirely unmoved by his threats. “Quite through effervescing?" asked Clay contemptuously. The gang leader made no answer. He chose to nurse, his venom silently. “Where’s Kitty Mason?” Still no answer. “I asked you what you've done with Kitty Mason?” “That’s my business.” “By G —d, you’ll tell, or I’ll tear it out of you!” Clay backed to the door, found the key, transferred it to the inner side of the lock, turned it, and put it in his pocket. The cornered gangman took a chance. He ducked for the shelter of the desk, tore open a drawer and snatched out an automatic. Simultaneously the cowpuncher pressed the button beside the door and plunged the room in darkness. He side-stepped swiftly and without noise. A flash of lightning split the Slackness. Clay dropped to his knees and crawled away. Another bolt, with its accompanying roar, flamed out. Still the westerner did not fire in answer, though he knew just where the target for his bullet was. A plan had come to him. In the blackness of that room one might empty his revolver and not score a hit. To wait was to take a chalice of being potted, but he did not want the deutli of even such a ruffian as Durand on liis soul. The crash of the automatic and the rattle of glass filled the room. Jerry, blazing away at some fancied sound, , had shattered the window. Followed a long silence. Durand was resolved to wait until His enemy grew restless and betrayed himself. The delay became a test of moral stamina. The contest was not one of grit, but of that unflawed nerve which is so much the result of perfect physical fitness. Clay’s years of clean life on the desert counted heavily now. He was master of himself, though his mouth was dry as a whisper and there were goose quills on his flesh. But Durand, used to the fetid atHELD SECRET OF

i John Wesiey's Nearly Ninety Years Passed With Remarkably Few Periods of Depression. There was John Wesley. His “Journal,” with its record of Indefatigable labor, is one of the cheeriest books in the language. What a rare good time he had! When he was eighty-seven lie could say, “I do not remember to have felt lowness of spirits for a quarter of an hour since 1 was born.” I* or more than sixty years this Indefatigable pleasure-seeker had been doing as he pleased. Up fevery day in time to preach at five o’clock in the morning; then over tlie hills or through tlie pleasant lanes to preach again at the time lazy citizens were ready for breakfast; off again, on horseback, or by chaise or in a lumbering stage conch, for more preaching. . . • Now and then facing a mob. or being wet through in a thunder storm, or stopping to get information in regard to some old ruin. Between sermons he refreshed his mind with all sorts and conditions of books. On the pleasant road to Chatham he reads Tasso’s “Jerusalem Delivered." On the road to Aberdeen he loses himself delightedly in the misty sublimities of Osstan. “Orlando Furioso” is good Saturday reading.- The eager octogenarian

moeptiere ot barrooms anu to uie so. living of the great city, found his nerve beginning to crack under the strain. What kind of a man was his enemy to lie there in the black silence and not once give sign of where he was, in spite of crashing bullets? Was it possible that he could have killed the fellow at the first shot? The comfort of this thought whispered hope ia the ear of the ex-prize-fighter. A chair crashed wildly. Durand fired again and yet again, hlz nerves giving way to a panic that carried him to swift action. He could not have Stood another moment without screaming. There camp the faint sound of ft hand groping on the wall, and immediately after a flood* of light filled the room. Clay stood by the door. His revolver covered the crouching gang leade-*. His eyes were hard and pitiless. “Try another shot,” he advised ironically. Jerry did. A harmless click was all the result he got. He knew mow that the cowman had tempted him to waste his last shots at a bit of furniture flung across the room. “You’ll tell me what you Old with Kitty Mason.” said Clay in his low, persuasive voice, just as though there j had been no intermission of flying bul- | lets since he had mentioned the girl ; before. "You can’t kill me, when I haven’t a loaded gun,” Durand answered between dry lips. Tlie other man nodded an admission of that point. “That’s an advantage you’ve got of me. You could kill me if I didn’t have a gun, because you're «i yellow wolf. But I can't kill you. That's right. But I can heat h—ll out of you. and I’m sure goin’ to do it.” “Talk's cheap, when you’ve got a loaded six-gun in your fist,” jeered .1 erry. With a flirt of his hand Clay tossed the revolver to the top of a book-case, out of easy reach of a man standing on the floor. He ripped open the hutI tons of his overcoat and slipped out of it. then 'moved forward with elastic step.” “It’s you or me now, Jerry Durand.” The prize-fighter gave a snort of derisive triumph. “You d —n fool! I’ll eat you alive.” i “Mebbeso. I reckon my system can assimilate any whalin’ you’re liable to hand me. Go to it.” . Durand had the heavy shoulders and swelling muscles that come from years of training for the ring. Like most pugilists out of active service he had taken on flesh. But the extra weight i was not fat. for Jerry kept always in good condition. He held his leadership partly at least's because of his physical prowess. No tough in New York would willingly have met him in a rough-and-tumble fight. The younger man was more slightly built. He was a Hermes rather than a Hercules. His muscles flowed. They did not bulge. But when lie moved it was with the litheness of a panther. The long lines of shoulder and loin had the flow of tigerish grace. The clear eyes In the brown face told of a soul Indomitable in a perfectly synchronized body. Durand lashed out with a swinging left, all the weight of his body behind the blow. Clay stepped back, shot .a hard straight right to the cheek and ducked the counter. Jerry rushed him, flailing at his foe blow on blow, intending to wear him out by sheer hard hammering. He butted with his head and knee, used every foul trick he had learned in his rotten trade of _ prizefighting. Active as a wild cat, the Arizonan side-stepped, scored a left on the eye, ducked again and fought back the furious attack. The gangman came out of the rally winded, perplexed and disturbed. His cheek was bleeding, one eye was in distress, and he had hardly touched his agile opponent. “Had enough? I’ll ask you once more where Kitty Mason is.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) The Rattlesnake. One of Bossworth’s young sprouts was coming home about twelve o'clock the other night on the south road, and just as he got even with the graveyard the engine went dead. But he said, he got so scared when he saw where he was that he shook the car so badly’ the durned old tiling thought tlie motor was running, and came clear to town before it discovered its mistake—Science and Invention Magazine. Cheerful Thought. “The Yanks are coming,” hummed the dentist as he prepared for an extraction.—Octopus. TRUE HAPPINESS

* — — — confesses that “Astolpho’s shield and (torn and voyage to the moon, tlie lance that unhorses everyone, the allpenetrating sword, and I know not how many impenetrable helmets and shields” are rather too much for his sober English imagination. Still, they afford an agreeable interlude in bis missionary journeys. — Samuel MeChord Crothers, in “Among Friends.' Long Way to “Temporary.” The English to the Latin tongue had been the subject of discussion in class. Fluctuate, temporary, pedestrian, fortitude, and other common words were talked of, and their Latin origin and meaning traced. Then came practical application. “Use ‘fluctuate’ in a sentence, John,” said the teacher. “The pfiee of Liberty bonds fluctuates,” contributed John. “Good,” said teacher. “Use ‘temporary,’ Anne.” Anne, musically inclined, was equal to the occasion. “It’s a long, long way to temporary!” she volunteered. After an interval, recitation continued. Any candidate who is knifed at the polls is. apt to jeel soigewhat eat up.

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