Newspaper Page Text
FOURTH PAGE
THE SUNNY SOUTH
^ Childerbrid&'e Mystery ^
BY GUY BOOTH BY, author of 44 Dr. Nikola," “The Beautiful White Devil," Etc.
(Copyright 1902.)
SYNOPSIS OF INSTALLMENTS I TO
VI.—William Standerton, a successful
colonist, and his two grown up children,
(have decided to leave Australia and set
tle down in the Old Country. Just be
fore their start the son. Jim, is accosted
by a "swagman,” who tells him to inform
«his father that Richard Murbridge will
meet him in the morning. When Jim de
livers the message, his father seems
greatly agitated, a .id although no harm
ct mes of the meeting with Murbridge
whom Standi/ton acknowledges having
known In previous years, both Jim and his
s’ster are rendered very uneasy. Childer-
bridge Manor becomes the English home
of the Standertons—an historic mansion
with an army of ghosts. Jim, out driving,
ri ng over a dog and becomes acquainted
with its mistress. Miss Decie, and her
• guardian, Abrahar.i Bursfleid The two
young people in time fall in love with
one another, but Mr Burslleld refuses his
c<*nsent. Jim encounters Richard Mur
bridge in the park. Ho forbids him tc
sec his father, but the latter, on hearing
of it, sends for the man and they have
a stoimy interview*. That evening a
fainting servant declares she has seen a
f host and the next morning William
tanderton is found dead in bed. stran
gled. Suspicion fastens . at once upon
Murbridge, who, it is found, has left for
London. “The- Black Dwarf’ again ap
pears, frightening the inmates of the hall.
At the inquest a verdict of “murder” is
returned against a person or persons un
known. Jim takes Helen Decic back to
the Dower House, and is met by Mr.
Bursfield, who angTily forbids any more
communication between the two and re
fuses to state his reasons. Helen writes
Jim that whilst she sorrowfully acqui
esces. she will be true to him to the end.
As Scotland Yard fails to unearth Wil
liam Standerton’s murder, his son essay3
the task, aided by Terence O’Riley, a for
mer servant, who opportunely turnd up
from* Australia.
*
CHAPTER SEVEN
' was considerably past
midday by the time Jim
and I .is sister, accompanied
by Terence." reached Lon
don. On arriving at Pad
dington, they engaged a
cab. and drove to the hotel
Jatres had selected, a pri
vate establishment leading
out of Piccadilly. Terence's
amazement at the size of
Lonaon was curious to wit
ness. Hitherto be had re
garded Melbourne as stu
pendous. now It struck him as a mere vil
lage compared with this giant metropo
lis. When he noted the constant stream
of traffic, the crowds that thronged the
pavejrcnts, and tile interminable streets,
his heart misgave him concerning the
enterprise upon which he had so confi
dently embarked.
"Bless my soul, how many people can
there be ir, London?" he asked; as they
drove up to the hctel.
"Something j>ver five million." Jim re
plied "It's a fair-sized township.”
"And we are going to look for ofie
man?" continued the other. "I guess it.
would i>? easier to find a scrubber in the
mallee than to get on the track of a man
who is hiding himself here.”
"Nevertheless, we’ve got to find him
eomehew," Jim replied. ‘That's the end
of the matter.” ,
After lunch lie sent word to Terence
that he wished him. to accompany.him on.
his first exeursicn. Up to' that time he
had foriiied no definite plan of action,
but it- was borne, in upon him that he
could do nothing, at all until he had visit
ed the eating house to Vhich Murbridge
had Ccen traced after his arrival.at Pad-
.dlngton station. They, accordingly made
their way to the house in-.question. It-
.proved to be an uninviting place, with a
sawdust covered floor, and half a dozen
small t^bld arranged, along one side. On
the other-was a counter upoii which were
'redvidislies.-
nd slipping on k greasy coat, he led the
way from the shop to a tiny apartment
leading opt of it. It was very dirty and
redolent of onions and had tobacco. Its
furniture was scanty and comprised a ta
ble. covered with American cloth, a cup
board .end -wo wooden chairs, upon one
of which James was invited to seat him
self. Terence, who hack* followed them,
took the other, while he surveyed its own
er with evident disfavor.
"And now, sir." said that individual, “I
shall be glad if you can tell me what I
can do for you. If it’s about the Board
School election, well. I’ll tell you at once,
straight out, as man to man, that I ain't
arcin' to vote for either party. There was
a young vagabond that I engaged the
until that moment had been rolled up, the other replied. “Go along this street,
then take the third turning to your left
and the first on the right. You can’t
make no mistake about it.”
“And what kind of a street is it?” Jim
inquired. "I mean, what sort of char
acter dees it bear?"
"Well, sir, that's more than I can
tell you,” said the other. "For all T know
to the contrary it’s a farish sort of street,
not so fust class as some others I could
name, but there's a few decent people liv
ing in it.”
“And do you happen to have anything
else to tell me about him.”
‘That's all I know, sir,” said the other.
“I haven't set eyes on him from that
blessed moment until this, and I don’t
know as I want to.”
'There/' he said ’ ts a sovereign. I can see that you are keeping something back
from me. No% the money is yours, whether you tell me or not"
displayed )a variety of cov%'re>
Whop. James, wntertd the pvopet^^e WM
giving- his attention to a steamrng pan
'of frying omens.
“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked'
aa he removed the frying pah from the
gas and came forward.
"I want five minutes’ conversation with
you in private, if you can spare the time,”
Jim replied, find then in a lower voice he
added: "I stand in need of some informa
tion which I have been told you are in
a position to supply. I need not say that
I . hall be quite willing to recompense you
for any loss of time or trouble you may
he put to.”
“In 'hat case I shai! be very happy
to oblige you, sir,” the man replied civil
ly enough. "That is to say, if it is in my
power to do so. Will you be good enough
to step this way? ’
■ Pulling down his shirt sleeves, which
ether day. He had had a Board school
education, and it had taught him enough
to be able to humbug me with his tak
ings. Thirteen and eleven-pence ’alf-
penny Was 'what he stole from me. And
as I said to the missus only last night,
‘no more Board school lads for me!’ But
•there, -sir, p'raps you ain't got nothing to
do with them?” . -
"I certainly have not.’* Jamefi replied.
"I am here on quite -a different matter.
Of oot-rse, you remember the police visit-
ing-you.a short time since, with regard to
a man who was suspected of being the
murderer of Afr.-Standerton, at Chjlder-
bridge in Midlandshire ”
“.Remember ..it?” the man replied. “I
should just think. I do., And^ haven’t I
got . good, cause, to remember'it? I was
n opt worrited to death by ’em , . First it
■, hang-
vya8 oflfi. aiid then |»*vsas,
ing abbut here and asking^
ir seeh?*he'*Bao ?
asking truer
FRIED 0RI0IS
Indirectly Caused the Death of the
World’s Greatest General.
. It is a matter of history that Napoleon
was a gormand, an inordinate' lover of
the good things of the table, and history
further records that his favorite dish was
fried onions; his death from cancer of
stomach it Is claimed also, was probably
catised from his excessive Indulgence of
this fondness for the odorous vegetable.
The onion is undoubtedly a wholesome
article rfT food;in fact, has many medicinal
qualities of value, but it would be diffi
cult to find a more indigestible article than
fried onions, and to many people they
are simply poison, but the onion does not
stand alone in this respect. Any article
ol food that is not thoroughly digested
becomes a source of disease and discom
fort whether it be fried onions or beef
steak.
The reason why any wholesome food is
rot • promptly digested is because the
stomach lacks some important 'element of
digestion, some stomachs lack peptone
others are deficient in gastric juice stili
others lack hydrochloric acid.
The one thing necessary to do in anv
case of poor digestion is to supply those
elements of digestion which the stomach
lacks, and nothing does this so thoroughly
and safely as Stuart's Dyspepsia Tablets
Dr. Richardson ir. writing a thesis on
trehtment of dyspepsia and indigestion
closes his remarks by saying, “for those
suffering from acid dyspepsia, shown by
sour, watery risings, or for flatulent dys
pepsia shown by gas on stomach, caus
ing heart trouble and difficult breathing,
as well as for all other forms of stomach
trouble, the safest treatment is to take
one or two of Stuart's Dyspepsia Tablets
after each meal. I advise them because
they contain no harmful drugs, but are
cemposed of valuable digestives, which
act promptly upon the food eaten. T never
knew a case of indigtstion or even chronic
fyspepsia which Stuart's Tablets would
hot reach.”
Cheap cathartic medicines • laimlng to
cure dyspepsia and indigestion can have
no effect whatever in actively digesting
the food, and to call any cathartic medi
cine a cure for indigestion is a misnomer.
Every druggist in the United States and
Canada sells Stuart's Dyspepsia Tablets,
and they apq not only the safest and most
successful, but the most scientific of any
treatment for' indigestion and stomach
troubles.
Had
jJAdre- he
had gore? What was h»?Mk*^: i Irwon’t
say as iiow a detc-ctlve mightn’t to ask
questioi s', because we all know. it's his
.duty/ tut when ■ it comes to interferin’
iw 1th a man's private business and drivtn’
Us customers away from the shop—for
I won’t make no secrets with you that
there is folks as eats at ihy table as is
not in love with ’tecs—well, then I say,
if it comes to that, it's about time a nian
put his foot down.”
"My case is somewhat different,” said
James. "In the first place I am not a de
tective, but the son of. the gentleman
who was murdered.”
"God bless me, sir, you don't say so,”
said the man, regarding him with aston
ishment and also with evident apprecia
tion. “Now that makes all the differ
ence. It's .nly fit and proper that a
young gentleman should want to find out
the man who, so to speak, has givgn him
such. a. knock down blow. Ask me what
questions you like, sir, and I’ll do my best
to answer ’em.”
"Well, first and foremost.” said Jim, “I
want to know how you became aware
that the man in question hailed from
Childerbridge? He wouldn't have been
likely to say so.”
“No, you’re right -there,” the man re
plied. "He didn’t say so. but I knew it,
because after he had had his meal, my
girl was giving him 'is change, and I saw
that there was a Childerbridge label on
the small bag he carried in his hand. I
put it to you, sir, if he hadn’t been there,
would that label have been on the hag?”
"Of course it would not. And he an
swered to. the description given you?”
"To a T, sir. Same srrt of face, same
sort of dress, snarly manner of speaking,
: potted bird’s eye necktie and all.”
"It must have been the man. And now
pnother question. You informed .the po
lice, did you not, that you had no knowl
edge as to where he went after he left
yotr shop?”
The man figitted uneasily in his chair
for a moment, and drummed with his
fingers upon the cover of the table. It
was evident that he was keeping some
thing back, and was trying to make up
his mind as to whether he should divulge
his information or not.
Here James played a good game, and
with a knowledge of human character few
people would suppose him to possess, took
from his pocket a sovereign which he laid
on the table before the other.
"There." he said, “ts a sovereign. I can
see that you are keeping something back
from me. Now that money Ik yours
whether you tell me or not. If it is likely
to affect your hanpincss don’t let me
know, but ifiyou can I shall be glad if you
will do so.”
"Spoken hke a gentleman, sir,” the
other replied, "and I don't mind if I do.
tell you, though it may get me into trou-'
hie with some -of my customers if you
give me away. You see, sir, round about
here in this neighborhood a man has to
be a bit careful as to what he says and
does. Suppose ’ it wp.s to come to the
ears of some people that it wa3 me as
gave the information that got the hloko
arrested, well then, they’d he sure to say
to ’emselves: ‘He's standin’ in with the
perlice, and we don't go near his shop
again.’ Do you take my meaning, sir?”
"I quite understand.” James replied. “I
see your difficulty, but you may be quite
sure that I will not mention your name
in connection with an information you
may give me.”
"Spoken and acted like a gentleman,”
said the shopman “Now I’ll tell you
what I know. I didn't tell the 't,cs.' be-
cos they didn't treat. me any too wen.
But this is what I do know. sir. As ho
went out of the door, he asked my little
toy. Tommy, wot was playing on the
pavement, how far it was to Great Med
ium street? The boy gave him the di
rection and he went off.”
“Great Medium street?” said James, and
made a note of the name in his pocket
book. ''Arid how far away may that lie
frqm here?” < _
"Not more than ten minutes' walk,”
“I am *very much obliged to you,” said
Jim rising and putting his pocket book
away. “You have given me great assist
ance.”
“I'm sure you’re very welcome, sir.”
replied the man. “1 am always ready to
do anything I can for a gentleman. It’s
the Board School folk that—”
Before the man could finish his sen
tence, Jim was in the shop once more,
and was making his way toward the
door, closely followed by Terence.
“Now the first question to be decided,”
he said, when they were in the street, “is
what is best for us to do? If I go to
Great Medium street it is more than
l kely that Murbridge will see me and
make off again. While, if I wait to com
municate with Robins I may lose him al
together.” ,
Eventually it was \ decided that hp
Should‘Hot' &jt on hjs ofciy Hilda'
! >houli *rite to Detect!** Robins,'
Mm mane Inquiries in 'the neighborhood in'
question. A note was accordingly dis
patched to the tuthorlties at Scotland
Yard. In it James informed them that
it had come to bis knowledge that the
man Murbridge was supposed to be re
siding In Great Medium street, though in
what house could not be stated. Later in
Ike lay Robins himself put in an appear
ance at the hotel.
"You received my letter?” James asked
when they were alone together.
“I did, sir,’ the man answered. "And
acted upon it at (nee."
“And with what result?”
“Only to discover that, our man has
slipped through our fingers once more,”
said the detective. “He left Great Med
ium street two days ago. Up to that time
he hacl lodged at No. 18. The landlady in
forms me that she knows nothing as to
bis present whereabouts. He passed un
der the name of Melbrook and was sup
posed by the other lodgers to be an Amer
ican.”
“You are quite certain that it is our
man ?”
“There can be no doubt about it. He
went to No. IS about breakfast time on
the morning that the murder was discov
ered. Now the next thing to find out is
where he now is. From what the land
lady told me I should not think he was
in the possession of much money. As a
matter of fact, she suspected that he had
been pawning his clothes, for the "reason
that his bag. which was comparatively
heavy when he arrived, seemed to be al
most empty when he left. Tomorrow
morning I shall make inquiries at the
various pawnbrokers in the neighborhood,
and It is just possible we may get some
further information from them."
Then Robins took his departure, and
Jim went in search of .Alice to tell her
the news. Next day word was brought
to him to the effect that Murbridge had
pawned several articles, but In no case
were the proprietors able to furnish any
information concerning his present
whereabouts. Feeling that it was Just
possible, as in the case of the eating
house keeper, near Paddington Station,
that the detectives had not been able to
acquire all the knowledge that was going,
Jim, accompanied by the faithful Terence,
set off in the afternoon for No. 18 Great
Medium street. It proved to be a lodging
house of the common type. In response
to their ring the door was opened by the
landlady, a voluble person of Irish de
scent. She Iookld Her', visitors up and
down before admitting them, and having
done so inquired if thiy stood in need of
apartments; ! •
"I regret to say thalt we do not,’ said
Jim. blandly. “My friend and I have
come to put a few questions to you con
cerning—”
“Not poor Mr. Melbrook, I do hope, ’
she answered. “Is all London gone tnad?
'Twas but yesterday aft-moor., just when
I was setten down to my bit o' tea, that
a gentleman. comes to moke inquiries
about Mr. Melbrook. I told 'im he’d left
the house, but that would not do. He
fcept me outside here askin' questions—
an* my tea got cold, an’ I had to make
some more. He wanted to know where he
had gone, and when and why he left, just
for all the world as if be was his long
lost brother. Tbeu this .norning another
cones. Wanted to know if I knew where
Mr. Melbrook pawned his clothes. Did he
appear to be in any trouble? Now here
ycu ate with your questiens. D'ye think
I’ve got nothing better to do than to be
trapesing around talkin’ about what don't
concern me? \Vhufg the world coming to,
I should'like to know?”
“But, my good woman, I am most anx
ious to find Mr. Melbrook,”. said Jim, "and
if you c.an. jmt me into the possession of
any information that will help me to do
so, I shall be very pleased to reward you
for your trouble.” .
“But I've got nothing to tell you,” she
replied. "Mere’s the pity of it, since you
speak so fair. From the time that Mr.
Melbrook left my houSe until this very
moment, I*ve : heard nothing of ’im. He
may have gone back to America—if he
was an American as they say—but there,
he may be anywhere. He was one of
them sertof men that says nothing about
his business; he just kept himself to
himself with his paper, and took his drop
of gin and water at night the same as
you and me might do. If I was to die
next minute, that's all I can tell you
about him.” ■
Seeing that it was useless to question
her further, Jim pressed some coins into
the woman’s willing hand, and bade her
good-day. Then, more dispirited by his
failure than he would admit, he drove
back to his hotel. Alice met him in the
hail with a telegram.
“This has just come for you,” she
said. "I was about to open it.”
Taking it from her, he tore open the
envelope, and withdrew the message. It
vas from Robins, and ran as follows;
"Think am on right track—will report
as soon as return.”
It had been dispatched from Waterloo
Station.
“Why did he not say where he was go
ing?” said Jim testily, “instead of keep
ing me in susper.st?”
“Because he does not like to commit
himself befoi e ho ■ has more to report, I
suppose,” said Alice. "Do not worry
yourself about It. dear. You will hear
everything tin good time.”
A long letter from Helen arrived that
evening and helped to console him, and
the writing ct an answer • to her enabled
him to 'while away another half hour.
But it must be Confessed that that even
ing Jim was far from. being himself. He
felt that he would have given anything
to have accompanied' the detective in his
search. He went to bed at an early hour
to dream tbat.he was chasing Murbridge
round ihe werid. and do what he would
he could not corah up with him. Next day
there was no news, and it was not until
the middle of the afternoon following
that he heard anything. Then another
telegram aJUved stating that the detec
tive would jrj at "the hotel between 4 and
5 o'clock that afternoon. He did so, and
the first glimpse of bis face told Jim that
his errand had as uhual been fruitless.
“I can see,’” he Said, “that you have not
met with any success. It that not so?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the' nian answered. “In
formation Was brought to Ihe the day
before yesteWdy th&t a man answering in
every wjj^ the description of the person
we Han** ,* bttvrtiejl a - small portman-
J*$g tq a rea, n x^ e - “
Death Valley and Its Death Chain* Haunted
By Hideous ^Shapes
Buying; Trouble.
The property owner who buys paint
without a full comprehension of his needs
and requirements buys trouble. Of old
it was said, “As a nail sticketh close be
tween the joinings of the stones, so doth
sin stick between buying and selling."
This is preeminently true of the paint
trfi.de—there is far more bad paint than
good to be had—for a consideration, and
the most costly paint is by no means the
beet.
Notwithstanding all arguments as to
purity and the like, what the buyer of
paint wants is protection and beauty for
his proDerty. and the better and the
longer a paint will give him these for
a given outlay the better it is for the
buyer.
To beauty, durability and economy it
is now generally acknowledged by all dis
interested authorities, zinc white is es
sential in paint. Good paint—good, as
above defined—cannot be made without it;
but. on the other hand, it must be ad
mitted. plenty of bad paint is made with
it. The whole question then resolves it
self into a matter of honor among paint
manufacturers. People do not acquire a
reputation for honesty, nor do goods ac
quire a reputation for quality without
substantial reason. Reputation is noth
ing but accumulated evidence become cur
rent.
It follows that the paint buyer can
safely bank on the paint makers’ reputa
tion. If a house have the reputation for
making superior paints it Is safe to ac
cent that renutation as evidence of a
fact. With such paint usually goes a
guarantee of quality and service such as
cannot be had with any other paint ma
terials. It is thus possible to buy paint
without “buying .trouble.”
STANTON DUDLEY.
f rea inAtfi©; Mile End road,
auadijB there I heard
mat he- hA come i« lodge at a house ili
cne of the streets. in the Vioinity. Ac
companied -by one of, my mates, I went to
the house in question, only- to discover
that we were too late again, and that the
n an had left for Southampton that morn
ing-intending to catch th4 outgoing boat
for South Africa Procuring a cab I set
off for Waterloo, and on my arrival there
sent that telegram to you, sir, and then
went down to Southampton by the next
train. Unfortunately the two hours’ delay
had given him his chanee, for when I
reached Southampton it was cniy to find
that the vessel had sailed half and hour
before. I went at once to the agent's
office, where I discovered that a man
whose appearance tallied exactly with the
description given, had booked a steerage
passage at the last moment, and had
sailed aboard her.But if he's got out
of England safely, we’ll catch him at
Madeira. The police there will arrest
him, and hold him for us until we can
get him handed over. He does not know
that I am upon his track, and for that
reason he’ll be sure to think he’s got
safely away.”
“We must hope to catch him at Ma
deira then. The vessel doe's not touch at
any port between, I suppose?”
Robins shook his head.
“No. Madeira is the first port of call
And now. sir, I’ll bid you good night, if
you don't mind. I've 'had a long day of it,
and I'm tired. Tomorrow morning I’ve
got to get abroad early on another little
case which Is causing me a considerable
amount of anxiety.”
Jim bade bim good night and then went
in search of his sister, only to find that
she had a bad headache, and had gone to
bed. After the excitement of the day it
was impossible for him to remain idle at
home, so donning his hat and coat he left
the hotel for a stroll. He walked quietly
along Piccadilly, smoking his cigar and
thinking of the girl who liad promised to
be his wife and who, at that moment,
was probably thinking of him in the quiet
little Midlandshire village. How delight
ful life would be when she should become
his. He tried to picture himself in the
capacity of Helen's husband. From Helen
his thoughts turned to Murbridge and he
fell to imagining the guilty wretch, flying
acros the seas, flattering himself contin
ually that he had escaped the punishment
he so richly deserved, finding security in
every mile of water the vessel left be
hind her. little dreaming that justice was
aware of his flight, and that Nemesis was
waiting for him so short a distance ahead.
Reaching Piccadilly Circus he walked on
until he arrived at Leicester square. As
the sky had become overcast, and a thin
drizzle was beginning to fall, he called
a hansom and bade the cabman drive
him back bis hotel. The horse
started off, and they were very soon pro
ceeding at a fast pace in the direction of
Piccadilly. Just as they reached the Cri
terion theater, a man stepped from the
pavement, and began to cross the road.
Had not the cabman sharply pulled his
horse to one side, nothing could lave
saved him from being knocked down.
So rear a thing was it that Jim sprang
to his feet, and threw open the apron,
feeling sure that the man was down. But
ciose shave though it had been the pedes
trian had escaped : nd, turning round, was
shaking his fist in a "paroxysm of rage at
the cabman. At that moment he saw Jim
and stood for a second or two as if turned
to stone; then, gathering his faculties to
gether, he dived beneath two caljs and
disappeared. ■
That man was Richard Murbridge!
(To Be Continued )
Mgr. Paul Guerin, editor of the Dic-
tionnaire des Dictionnaires and author of
many esteemed Catholic books, Is being
tried at Chateauroux for obtaining 0.000,-
000 on false pretenses/ from Aany per
sons. -The Dictionnajde is the cause of
his troubles. jr
f
By James A Hall
(Written for The Sunny South.)
ACK in the Paleozoic age,
say the geologists, the
gulf of California rolled
its salt' waves qs far in
ward as the Great Salt
Jake, and throughout the
sterile basin which lies
partly in Nevada and Cal
ifornia, and partly in Utah
and Arizona, the traces of
the ancient sea are visible
today. This former sea bod
is cut into numerous val-
. leys by rugged and barren
u ° "I i? anscs aad Presents in many of
ts sections conditions found nowhere
else on the earth’s crust Here nature
seems not to have finished its task, and
one is forcibly reminded of that remote
time before the earth was made a fit
Place for life to exist upon.
The convulsions of nature which built
up the western portion of the continent
cut in twain the gulf of California near
the present frontier of Mexico and formed
a number o'f deep inland seas. This
group of salt lakes lay in one of the
hottest and dryest regions in the world.
No streams of any magnitude flowed into
these lakes, and the great evaporation
gradually pumped out the water and left
them dry. The beds of these inland seas
now form the Colorado afid Mojave des4
srts and Death valley, and the succession
of desert valleys extending on to northern
Utah.
The Colorado and Death deserts lie
from 250 to 300 feet below sea level and
present many strange conditions of cli
mate and animal and vegetable lifr The
Mojave, pronounced Mo-har-ve, is a bil
lowy plain punctured here and there by
barren mountains and extends from the
California sierras eastward. The Mojave
river rises in the San Bernardino moun
tains and flows eastward out on the des
ert. The sands are so all-absorbing that
they do not permit a tree to grow along
the river's course. There are only a
few scattering mesquite bushes, and even
the river itself is unequal to the thirst
of the sands and the air, and is swallowed
up in the waste. The water sinks and
reappears and sinks again and vanishes
entirely before it reaches the confines of
Death valley, toward which it flows.
Near the bottom of that large blank
spot on the map called the state of Ne
vada may bp seen a tiny black mark
which winds its way across the boundary
line into California. It is called the Amar-
gosa river, and appears to flow into a
lake on the California side.
The depression through which the
Amargosa's brackish waters find their
way is that desolate and forbidding sink
In the earth’s surface
which has gained for it
self the name of Death
valley. This grim region
lies about 200 miles north
of The Needles, where the
Santa Fe railroad crosses
the Colorado river, and is only accessible
by winding trails through a wilderness
of mountains, barren, sun-scorched and
waterless.
_ Death valley is about t>) miles long by
50 wide, and at its lowest point is 260
feet below sea level. Oder the greatest
portion of its length extends a deposit of
soda, salt, borax and alkali. There is a
wide expanse of stalagmites of crystal
lized soda and borax, and the bottom of
the valley looks like a frozen lake pow
dered over with snow. The Panamnit
mountains, which form the western
boundary of Death valley, rise bold and
rugged from the plain. These mountains
are as barren and uninviting as when
they came from the volcanic forge.
They are gray and brown with streaks
and patches of yellow and crimson.
Sometimes through the heated air they
appear bright and fiery red, changing to
purple, and again they gleam in the sun
light with the metallic luster of copper.
Some of these mountains rise abruptly
from the floor of the valley to a height
of 5,000 feet, and their tomblike desola
tion is depressing beyond words.
A fine alkali dust fills the hot winds
that sweep through the valley, which pro-
Daath
Valley
In all
Its
Solitude
the three others who were unaffected
hastily constructed such shelter as they
could with their blankets over the fallen
men. It was then discovered that near
ly all the water had evaporated, and
Hannon and the three men- who could
travel took a few of the donkeys and
went back to the mountains for more
water. When they returned they found
their companions all dead and the don
keys lay near with their throats cut.
The fainting men, in their delirium of
thirst, had sought to prolong life by
drinking the blood of the pack animals,
but in vain. It is said
Eearful that birds, attempting to
Delirium fly across the stifling
For Men alkali desert of Death
Dost in valley, become exhausted
Dossrt and drop dead before they
reach the cool air of the
mountains on the other side.
Owing to its great depression below
sea level the heat, which is bottled up,
so to speak, and the powerful reflection
and refraction, carry the summer tem
perature up to 140 for weeks at a time,
and it is said that 120 degrees is common
at midnight during the months of July
and August.
The heat waves and the peculiar quality
of the atmosphere are often more than
the human mind can stand. The danc
ing mirages drive men, . who are inured
to the life of the desert and its hard
ships, insane. Stories are told of miners
and other desert riien who became so af
fected by the atmospheric illusions that
they would take o'ff their clothes and,
holding them above their heads, would
cry. out to be saved from drowning.
Then, overcome with thirst, they would
dig their finger nails Into their flesh and
suck their own blood until death ended
their miseries.
The" plant and the animal, or rather
reptile, life of Death valley is in keep
ing with its surroundings. A few stunted
cacti peep up here and there and a sepul
chral weed with black leaves may be
seen at wide intervals clinging to the
rocky sides of the mountains.
Scorpions, lizards, centipedes and taran
tulas swarm among the rocks on the
hillsides and where projecting ledges fur
nish shade the Gila monster makes his
home. This most repulsive of the Ameri
can reptiles is not the deadly thing he is
supposed to be. He is only a great, fat
and clumsy lizard covered with snakelike
spots. But he is believed by the Indians
and miners to be more poisonous than
any rattlesnake, and such a relentless
war has been waged on him that the
species outside of Death valley is now
almost extinct, but in the burning soli
tudes of that forbidding region he may
flourish for years to come. There is no
bird life in Death valley, but there are
great horned toads which, it is said, can
spit blood from their eyes, and monster
kangaroo rats which hop about on their
hind legs and are reported to eat scor
pions and tarantulas. The grasshopper
mouse is a tiny member of this hopping
rat family and he is credited with mak
ing his meals of wriggling centipedes.
The Colorado desert, which lies near
est the gulf of California and occupies
the southeastern corner of the state of
that name, is more hospitable than either
Mojave or Death valley. This desert ex
tends from the Colorado river westward
to the San Jacinto mountains. It is a
dead sea floor of drifting sand dunes and
patches of mesquite and agave plants.
Its sand drifts glisten like snow under
the burning sun and its mirages float
and mingle in many weird and fantastic
forms.
But the Colorado offers a home to hu
man kind. Several tribes of Indians, and
some white men, live on this desert.
There are a number of hamlets along
the line of the Southern Pacific railway
between Yuma and Banning, irrigation is
receiving considerable attention and the-
whlte desert sands are being made to yield
the finest and earliest of vegetables.
Water for irrigation is obtained from
artesian wells around Indio and at Im
perial a big canal taps the waters of
the Colorado river. It is said land about
Imperial is being taken up very rapidly
and the town is making considerable
“boom noise.”
Along the mountain sides can be plainly
seen the gray shore lines when the
duces a scorching sensation and a terrible breakers of the ancient sea spent their
thirst. The skin peels off the hands and
face, the nose burns as when inhaling
ammonia, and the lips parch, crack and
bleed. The intense heat produces many-
weird mirages which float and waver
before the bewildered gaze and there is a
sense of impending doom in the infernal
atmosphere.
Death valley is so difficult of access
and is so repellent that it is but little
known, and because of this fact many
wild and fantastic stories have gained cir
culation regarding it. But its conditions
are such as to cause the Pinte Indians,
who dwell on its border, and the mine
prospectors and other desert men who
have come to know Death valley in all
its moods to regard it as a place accursed
and Co be avoided as one would avoid the
open door of Sheol.
Back in the forties a band of adven
turous Mormons attempted to pass
through the valley from the north, but
perished among what have since been
called the Funeral mountains.
Forty years ago a miner named Harri
son and a party attempted to cross the
valley from the mountains on the west
ern side. They were well provided with
provisions, more than half of their pack
donkeys being loaded with water. The
second day put them well out on the
desert. Their course lay through en
crusted soda end borax, and huge and
jagged stalagmites made progress slow
and difficult. It was during the month
of August and the heat was overpower
ing. The party had not got half across
the blinding salt waste when four of the
men fell down exhausted. Hannon and
fury against the rocks, and at Salton
sink the last stand of the disappearing
sea is found.
The Salton lake lies a few miles south
of the Southern Pacific railroad and la
265 feet above the level of the California
gulf. The disappearing
Salt sea left here a sort of
Fialda marsh which became coat-
oflncsl- ed over with pure white
culsbl* salt. This salt field, said-
Vain. to be the richest in the
world, covers, about a
thousand acres and looks at a distancs
like a field of tha whitest snow. The
blazing light of the sun upon this field
of white produces a brilliancy unbearable,
while the heat, enormously increased by
reflection and refraction, is such that no
white man can exist there for any con
siderable time.
Salt was taken from this field in Small
quantities for many ye8rs,*but it was
not until after the Colorado broke over
its banks and formed a great lake here
in 1892 that anything on a commercial
scale was attempted. This new lake
was evaporated very rapidly and men who
ventured into its bed after the water had
disappeared discovered a sheet of white
whose dazzling brilliancy blinded and
drove them away. They returned with
colored glasses and found a sheet of salt
from 6 to 18' inches thick.
The Liverpool Salt Company erected a
plant there and began operations. A
great steam plow was devised to cut the
salt field into blocks 6 feet square. The
plow is supported by four wheels and
has a powerful steel point which cuts a
shallow furrow in the crystallized sur
face. As the steam engine draws it
through the snow-white substance the
plow pulls up big clods and pushes them
out on each side of the furrows. Indian
boys follow with hoes, knocking and
scraping these clods out of the furrows,
and allowing the black, dirty water
which oozes up from the springs below
to flow through the furrows and moisten
the earth underneath the big square
blocks. These are then taken up and con
veyed to a house where the salt is washed
and dried and made ready for use. It
is put through a dryer and grinder and
comes out fine and free from other sub
stances.
It is said that the company has taken
out 2,000 tons of salt a year for many
years worth from $6 to J36 a ton. As
fast as the salt crust is removed the wa
ter, whoh comes up from the numerous
little springs below, crystallizes and a
new crust is formed.
The labor problem was the greatest
difficulty to be overcome at Salton. The
heat which often reaches 140 during the
summer, the terrible glare and the con
stant thirst produced by the flying parti
cles of salt, made it impossible for any
white man to labor there. Japanese and
Indians of the desert were employed. It
was found that the Indian could labor
all day under these terrible conditions
and Indian labor proved the salvation
of the Salton enterprise. The laborers
drink great quantities of water and per
spire freely, but, they keep stoically at
their work all day long. The few white
men who are compelled to stay at Salton
to attend to the business get away as
often as possible and go to Los Angeles
and the coast.
A peculiar feature cf the Colorado des
ert is the sand blast of the San Gorgonio
pass, and said to be the most powerful
sand blast in the world. This pass forms
a deep notch in the mountain chain. The
atmosphere on the west side of this moun
tain chain next to the Pacific is always
more or less damp and cool. The air
of the desert on the east side Qf the
mountains becomes extremely hot in the
summer and the inrush of air through
the San Gorgonio pass as the hot air of
the desert rises causes a rushing wind,
which drives before it a constant sweep
of the sharp, cutting sea sand. This sand
is so sharp and is driven with such force
that it erodes anything in its way. Bot
tles thrown from the passing trains have
the rough edges of their fragments
ground smooth, and the telegraph poles
are sawed and furrowed by this sand
until rendered unfit for use.
Heptune and the Mermaids
■“Now, girls,”' said Neptune, and his
voice trembled with deep-sea emotion, r
“we are up against it for fair.”
With one voice the fair nymphs inquired
what the matter was.
“That submarine scheme of the Penn
sylvania system. It’s a dreadful thing If
railroads are to invade our watery do
main.”
“Oh, I don't know,’' retorted a pert
young mermaid, “all we’ve got to do is
to look out for the locomotive.”
"That shows how little you know about
the railroad business.” replied Neptune,
with a sigh. “The most important thing
is to look out for the conductors and en
gineers.”
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