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FAYETTEVILLE NEWS, FAYETTEVILLE, GEORGIA.
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The Qirl, a
Bij
Horse
FRATICIS LQTIDE
Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons
CHAPTER XVI.—Continued
—10—
Now the presence of a wagon on our
-bench at this early hour in the morn
ing might mean either one of two
diametrically opposite things: Our
deliverance; or the upcoming of re
inforcements for the raiders. We were
not left long in doubt. Shortly after
the rack-rack of the wagon wheels
stopped we heard footsteps, and the
hair stiffened on Barney’s back. Next
we heard Bullerton’s voice, just out
side nnd apparently under our window
openings.
“Broughton!" the voice called; “can
you hear me?"
“So well that you’d better keep out
•of range!” I snapped back.
"All right—listen. .You’ve got to get
out, Broughton—that's flat. I haven’t
wanted to go to extremes. For per
fectly obvious and commonplace rea
sons I don’t want to have to kill you
to get rid of you. But we are not go
ing to gentle you any more. You’ve
already hurt four of my men. and two
of the four are crippled. The next
time we hit you, it’ll be for a finish.”
“Yes,” said I. “You brought the
new club up in a wagon, didn’t you?”
He ignored this.
“We could starve you out if we
chose to take the time. I know pretty
well what you’ve got to eat—or rather
what you haven’t got. It’s your privi
lege to take your life in your own
hands, Broughton; that’s up to you.
But how about the old man?”
“The old man’s a-plenty good and
able to speak for hisself!" yapped
baddy. “You do your durndost,
Charley Bullerton!”
"All right, once more. You’ll hefjr
from us directly, now; and as I said
before, we’ve quit gentling you. That’s
my last word."
For a time after this the silence,
and the darkness, since it was the hour
before dawn, were thick enough to he
cut with an ax. But the dog was
more restless than ever, and we knew
' that something we could neither see
nor hear must be going on. After a
while I asked the question that had
been worrying me ever since I had
heard the wagon wheels.
“Wliat did they bring up in that
wagon, Daddy—a Gatling?”
“The Lord only knows, Stalinle—nnd
he won’t tell,” was the old prospector’s
reply, made with no touch of irrever
ence; and the words were scarcely out
of his mouth before a thunderbolt
struck the sliafthouse.
CHAPTER XVII.
Tit for Tat.
That word “thunderbolt” is hardly
a figure of speech. The thing that hit
us couldn’t be compared to anything
milder than thunder and lightning.
There was a Hash, a rending, ripping
ronr as if the solid earth were split
ting in two, and the air was filled with
flying fragments and splinters. Air, I
say, but the acrid, choking gas which
filled the shufthouse could scarcely be
called air.
'Dynamite^—that’s what they fetched
in that wagon!” gurgled the old man
at my side, and I could have shouted
for joy at the mere sound of his voice,
since It was an assurance that he
hadn’t been killed outright.
“It’s only a question of a little time,
now, Daddy,” I prophesied. “What
you said yesterday—that Bullerton
would try to get possession without
destroying the property—no longer
holds good. He has evidently decided
that we’ve got to be ousted, even at
the expense, of building a new shaft
house and installing new machinery
Why has he changed bis mind, when
he knows that he could starve us out
in a few days?”
"I been thinkln’ about that, right,
p’intedly, Stannie. Shouldn’t wonder
if somethin’s in the wind—somethin’
we don’t know about."
"Then there's another thing,” T put
in. “Supposing, just for the sake of
argument, that our first guess was
right: that he did take Jennie to
Angels three days ago and that they
were 4 married there. YoU know your
daughter. Daddy, and I know her, a
little. Nobody but an idiot would sup
pose that she’d live with Bullerton ns
his wife for a single minute if he
makes himself your murderer."
“It sure does look tlmt-away to a
man up a tree," admitted the stout
old fighter.
"I’m hanging on to the little hope
like a dog to a root, Daddy,” I con
fessed. “If I can only keep on Reliev
ing that they’re not married, 1 can put
up a better fight, or be snuffed out—if
I have to be—with a good few less
heart-burnings."
But at this the old man, who, no
longer ago 'than the yesterday, had
seemed to lean definitely toward the
no-marringe hypothesis, suddenly
changed front.
“Don’t you go to bankin’ on any
thing like that, Stannie,. son,” he said
ir. a tone of deep discouragement.
“Charley Bullerton’s a liar, from the
place where they make liars for a
livin’, and 'tain’t goin’ to be no trick
a-tall for him to make Jennie, and a
lot o’ other folks, b’Jleve that we
blowed ourselves up with our own
dynamite. No, sir; don’t you go to
bankin’ on that."
“Then you do believe that Jeanie
went with Bullertou?"
“Looks like there ain’t nothing else
left to believe,” he asserted dolefully.
“Look at it for yourself, son: she’s
been gone three whole days. If she
hadn’t gone with him—and the good
Lord only, knows where else she could
have gone—don’t you reckon she’d 've
been back here long afore this? No,
Stannie; we been lettin’ the ‘wish It
was’ run away with the ‘had to be.’ I
reckon we just got to grit our teeth,
son, and tough it out the best we can."
During this waiting interval, which
seemed like hours and was probably,
only a few minutes, we were momen
tarily expecting another crash. It did
not come; but in due course of time
we heaftl a stir outside and then
voices, and one of the voices, which
was not Bullerton’s said: ( “I’ll bet
that ca'tridge smoked ’em out good an’
plenty, cap’ll. Gimme th’ ax, Tom, till
we bu’st open the door an’ have a
squint at ’em.”
Just at that moment a submerging
wave of depression surged over me
ind shoved me down so deep that I
think possibly if Bullerton had culled
out and demanded our surrender I
should have been tempted to tell him
that I was not so much of a hog as
not to know when I had enough. But
the old man squeezed In beside me un
der the arched boiler plate was made
of better fiber; he was game to the
last hair in his beard* With a wlld-
Iudian yell, he hunched his Winchester
into position and fired once, twice,
thrice, at the door, as rapidly as he
could pump the reloading lever.
A spattering fusillade was the reply
to this, but the aim was bad and the
only result was to set the air of our
prison fortress to buzzing as if a
swarm of angry bees had been turned
loose on us. After this, (lie raiders
withdrew, so we judged; at all events,
the silence of the dark hour before
daybreak shut down upon us again,
and once moi’f we had space in which
to “gather our minds,” as Daddy put
it.
It may lie a dastardly confession of
weakness to admit it, blit 1 am free to
say that the prolonged struggle was
gradually undermining my nerve. If
Bullerton had made up his mind to
write off the.loss of,the .mine buildings
and machinery, it was a battle lost for
us. It could be only a question of a
little time, and enough daylight to en
able the bombers to throw straight,
until we should be buried in the wreck
of the sliafthouse and hoist—and with
out the privilege of dying in a good,
old-fashioned, stand-up fight.
•All of this 1 hastily pointed out to
Daddy Hiram, adding that, for Jennie’s
sake, if for no better reason, he ought
to take his chance of staying upon
earth. As long as I live I shall
always have a high respect for the
wrath of a mild-mannered man. The
old prospector was fairly Berserk,
mad. foaming at the mouth, and short
of dragging him out by nn'iin strength
there was no way of making him let
go.
“No, sir; I done promised your
gran’paw 'at I’d stand by for him, and
he paid me money for doin’ it. When
them hellions get this here mine,
they’jre goin’ to dig a hole somewheres
and bury me afterward,” was all 1
could get out of him.
We were not. given very much more
time for discussion, or for anything
else. The first faint graying dawn was
coming, and with the partial lighten
ing of the inner gloom, we craned our
necks—like a double-headed turtle
peering out of its shell—and got a
glimpse of the damage done by the in
itial thunderbolt. We saw it without
any trouble: a great hole torn in the
sheet!ron roof directly over the hoist
and shaft mouth. Knowing the use
and effect of explosives pretty well.
Daddy said that the bomb bad gone olT
prematurely; had exploded before it
had fairly lighted upon the roof.
“If it hadn’t—if it had been lnyin'
on the roof when it went off—we
wouldn’t be lookin’ up at that hole
right now, Stannie. my son. We’d lie
moggin' up the golden stair and a-won-
derin’ how much farther it was to the
New Jerusalem, and what kind o'
harps they was goin’ to give us when
we got there. We sure would.”
We didn’t keep our heads out very
long. While we wefe staring up at
the hole and at the patch of sky be
yond it. a small dark object with a
smoke-blue comet’s tail trailing be
hind it crossed our line of sight, and
we ducked and held our breath—or at
least, I held mine. The crash came
almost immediately, and It was fol
lowed in swift succession by a second
nnd a third. Luckily, none of the
three hit the shaft-house, nor. Indeed,
fell very near to it; and this uncer
tainty of aim told us where the attack
was coming from. The bomb throw
ers were posted somewhere on the
steep slope of the mountain above us;
the slope which I have described as
running up from the brink of the
abrupt cliff overlooking the mine
plant.
“They’ll get the range, after a
while.” Daddy grunted. “And when
i hey do, I reckon it’ll be good-by, fair
world, for a couple of us and one
mighty good dog. I’m a-tellln’ you.
Stannie, son. the shot that comes
down through that lade fixes us u-
plenty. Sufferin’ Methusuleh! what-
all is the folks down yonder at 'Tro-
pia a-dreamln’ about, to let all this
bangin’ and yvhangln’ go on up here
without .coinin' up to find out. what’s
makin’ it?"
The Atropia that I remembered was
so neurly moribund that I didn’t won
der it wasn’t making any stir in our
behalf; so, when a few pattering rifle
shots which seemed to originate on
the great bench below began to sift
in among the bomb echoes, I took If
that Bfdlerton had divided his force
and was trying to rattle us two ways
at once. As for that, however, the
bigger bombardment kept us from
speculating very curiously upon any
thing else. Two more of the giant
crackers had fallen to the right of us,
one of them into the wreck of the
blacksmith shop, to send up a spout
ing‘volcano of scrap which fell a sec
ond or so later in a thunderous rain;
and then. . . .
For a Hitting instant it seemed as if
it must drop squarely in front of the
iron shield under which we were
jammed—in which case even the un
dertaker wouldn’t have been needed—
not any whatsover, as Daddy Hiram
would have said. But at the critical
point in its flight the hurtling thing
“ticked” the top of the hoist frame
and its downward course was deflect
ed the, needed halr’s-breadth, causing
it to come down beyond the machin
ery, and not on our side of things.
Nevertheless, we were cowering in an
ticipation of a blast which would most
likely heave the entire machinery ag
gregation over bodily upon us when
the explosion came.
We saw the belching column of
flame and gas going skyward beyond
the machinery barrier, taking a full
half of the roof with it, as if the blast
had come from the mouth of a gigan
tic cannon. We were dazed .,nd deaf
ened by the shock, and half choked
by the fumes, but neither of us was
so far gone as not to hear distinctly a
prolonged and rumbling crash like the
thunder of a small Niagara, coming
after the smash! |
“Thtj shaft!” shrilled Daddy Illram,
in a thin, choked voice; “it went off
down in the shaft! And, say!—
wlmt-all’s that we’re a-listenin’ to
now!’’
If there had been a dozen of the
bombs raining down I don’t believe
the threat of them would have kept
us from bursting out of our dodge-hole
to go and see what had happened in
the mln£ shaft. But before we could
determine anything more than that
the mouth of the shaft was complete
ly hidden under a mass of wreckage,
and that the mysterious Niagara roar,
dwindled somewhat, but yet hollowly
audible, was still going on under the
concealing mass of broken timbers
and sheet-iron, there was a masterful
interruption. Shots, yells, shoutings
and hot curses told us that a tiered
battle of some kind was staging itself
just outside of our wrecked fortress;
whereupon Daddy Hiram began paw
ing his way to the door, yelling like a
man suddenly gone dotty.
“That there’s old Ike Beasley—
dad-blihne his old hide!" he chittered.
"There ain’t nary ’not.her man iii the
Timanyonis ’at can cuss like that.
.He’s come with a posse, and they’re
lnyin’ out Charley Bullerton’s crowd 1"
' There was a fine little tableau
spreading itself out for us when we
had clambered over the wreckage and
boiled to a man, they looked to be—
!iud surrounded a fair half of the
would-be "jumpers” and were hand
cuffing them with a celerity that was
truly admirable. And Beasley, him
self, square-jawed and peremptory,
was shoving Bullerton up against the
side of the shaft-house, snapping the
irons upon his wrists and counseling
him, with cjioice epithets intermin
gled, to save up his troubles and tell
them to the judge.
As we emerged from our wrecked
fortress, other members of the posse
were scattering to round up the out
lying bomb-throwers, who had appar
ently taken to the tall timber in a
panic-stricken effort to escape. Down
on the bench below there were horses
and horse-holders; and among the
horses one whose boyish-looking rider
was just slipping from the saddle.
While I was wondering vaguely why
the Angels town marshal had let a
mere boy come along on such a battle
errand, the boyish figure ran up the
road and darted in among us to fling
itself into Daddy Hiram’s arms, gur
gling and half crying and begging to
be told if he was hurt. 1
I didn’t know at the time how much
or how little the big marshal knew of
the various and muddled involvements,
which were climaxing right there in
the early morning sunshine on the old
Cinnabar dump head; but I do know
that he quickly turned his captures
over to some of his deputies nnd had
them promptly hustled down stage
and off scene.. While this was going
on I was merely waiting for my cue,
and I got it, or thought I got it when
the boy who wasn’t a boy slipped
from Duddy’s arms and faced me.
“I’m not hurt, either,” I ventured
to say, hoping that the brain storm
had subsided sufficiently to make me
visible. “Welcome home, Miss Twom-
bly—or should I say Mrs. Bullerton?"
The look she gave me was just plain
deadly; you wouldn’t think that vio
let-blue eyes could do it, but they can.
Then she drew a folded paper from
somewhere inside of her clothes and
held it out to me.
“There i§. the deed to your mine,
Mr. Broughton,” she said nippingly,
and with a fairly tragical emphasis on
the courtesy title. “You wouldn’t
take the trouble to go to. Copali and
get it recorded, so I thought I’d better
do it. I hope you’ll pardon me for be
ing so forward and meddlesome.”
It was the super-climax of the en
tire Arabian-Nights business, and be
cause my feelings would no longer be
denied their rightful fling, I sat down
on the shaft-house doorstep and
shouted and laughed like a fool. Butt
after all, it was Mr. Isaac Beasley,
deputy sheriff and marshal of Angels,
who put the weather-vane, so to
speak, upon the fantastic structure.
“I been lookin’ ’round for you a
right smart while,” he told me gruffly.
“When you get plum' over your laugh
and feel that you’re needin’ a little
sashay over the hills f’r exercise, you
can come along with me and go to jail
f’r stealin’ that railroad car."
there was a good and sufficient reason
plainly visible from the pit's mouth.
Some twenty feet down, and on the
eastern side of the shaft, a stream of
water big enough to run a good-sized
hydro-electric plant was pouring into
the perpendicular cavern, and it was
its plunging descent into the bowels
of the earth which was making the
mimic thunder.
Beasley was the first t» find speech.
“Where the blazes is all that water
cornin’ from?" he exploded.
“That’s just what we’re going to
find out!" I barked. “Can you and
Daddy handle my weight in a rope
sling?”
They both protested that they could
handle two of me if necessary, and a
sling was quickly rigged and I was
lowered into the pit. At the nearer
view thus obtained, some of the mys
teries were instantly made clear. The
reason why the wooden boxing disap
peared below a certain point in the
shaft was that it had never extended
any farther down. It had been mere
ly a box with a bottom!—and all those
pipe-dream impressions which had
tried to register themselves on the
day when I had my struggle with the
The Crash Came Almost Immediately.
had withdrawn the wooden bar and
flung the door wide. Daddy Hiram
had called the turn and named the
trump. The large, desperadoish-look-
lng man who hnd once interviewed me
at Angels, and a little later hnd
paused m ms combing of the moun
tains In search of me to usurp my
place at the Twomhlys’ breakfast ta
ble, this bewhiskered giant, with a
goodish bunch of followers- -ha
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Hold-Up.
Beasley left me sitting on the door
step—I’ve a notion he had run out of
handcuffs, else he might have clapped
a pair of them on me-Mvhile he start
ed his posse down to Atropia with the
captured raiders and their leader.
When he ennu? back we took time,
Daddy and I and the big marshal, to
size up the damage that had been
wrought, and beyond that, to dig into
the mystery of the continuous grum
bling roar which was still ascending
out of the wreck-covered mine shaft.
Beasley stayed with us, waiting, as
I took It, to get his breakfast before
he ran me off to jail, and the three of
us fell to work clearing away the
fallen timbers and roofing iron, Dad
dy Hiram leading the attack and be
ing the first to stick his head through
what remained of the tangle and hang
it over the edge of the shaft’s mouth.
“Hooray!” he yelled, his voice
sounding as if it came from the inside
of a barrel: nnd then again. “Hooray.
Stannie. son!—by the ghosts of old
Shndraoh. Meshach and Abednego.
Charley Bullerton’s done gone and
done eggs-zac’ly what he said lie could
do—dreened your mine for ye! Climb
in here and take a look at her. She’s
empty—empty as a gourd—but. at
that, she ajn’t goin’ to be, very long!"
A few more minutes of the strenu
ous toil cleared the pit mouth so that
we could all see. The bomb which had
exploded in the shaft lmd wrought a
complete transformation. The stand
ing flood, which all of our pumping
attacks had failed to lower 7 by so
much as a fraction of an Inch, was
gone, and with it hnd vanished the
two big centrifugals, the platform
upon which they had stood, and their
pipe connections. Gone, likewise, was
the greater part of the heavy wooden
shaft-lining. A little of this remained
in the upper part of the shaft, but
from a point possibly twenty-five feet
down, there was nothing but the hare
rock sides of the square pit swept by
the receding flood.
As for the hollow roaring nois>*
which had followed the crash of the
explosion, and which still continued
‘Hooray!" He Yelled. “Charley Bull-
erton’s Dreened Your Mine for Ye!"
suction-pipe octopus were instantly
translated into facts. I could have
sworn, then, that there was a bottom
in the box, and there was a bottom.
And that other impression—that 1 had
encountered an Inrushing stream of
ice-cold water in the chilling depths;
here was the stream; a foot-thick,
never-failing cataract, pouring in
through a perfectly good and substan
tial conduit of twelve-inch iron pipej
In a flash the whole criminal mys
tery involving the ostensibly flooded
mine was illuminated for me. “Haul
away!” I called to the two above:
and when they had drawn me up to
the pit’s mouth and I could get upon
my feet, I yipped. at Daddy and the
marshal to come on, and led'them in
an out-door race along the mine ledge
to the eastward; a hundred-yards
dash which brought us to the banks
of the swift little mountain torrent in
the right-hand gulch.
A brief search revealed precisely
what 1 was expecting to find; what
anyone in possession of the facts pre
cedent would have expected to find.
In the middle of a small pool slightly
upstream from the path level—a pock
eted lilt of water neatly screened and
half hidden by a growth of low-
branching spruces—we saw a cone-
shaped whirlpool swirl into which a
good third of the stream flow was
vanishing. Below this pool an appar
ently accidental heaping of rocks
formed a small dam which kept the
little reservoir full.
Without a word, Daddy Hiram and
the Angelic marshal plunged reckless
ly into the stream and with their bare
hands tore away the loose-rock dam.
With the removal of the slight barrier
and the consequent clearing of the
course of the stream, the pocket reser
voir immediately sucked dry. the inlet
of the cataracting pipe wqs exposed,
and the secret of the flooded Cinnabar
was a secret no longer.
The scheme which had been elab
orated and set in motion to “soak”
Grandfather Jasper was a premedi
tated “holdup." The Cinnabar, in op
eration and producing to Its capacity,
was worth, so Beasley asserted, all
that my grandfather had paid for It
and more. But with the branch rail
road built to its very door, its value
would be doubled. Two alternatives
had thus presented themselves to the
owners, who were Cripple Creek
mining speculators who had bought in
the stock at a low figure while the
main vein was as yet unexploited: they
could go on mining the ore and star
ing it against the time when the rail
mad, with its cost-reducing advan
ages should come along; or the;
could suspend operations for the saint
length of time, setting the losses of a
shut-down over against the increased
profits when they should start up
again.
With our discoveries of the morning
the plan of .the robbery became per
fect 1 y plain. Some giant of finance
among the speculators had evolved a
scheme by which the mine not only
might be shut down during the inter
val of waiting for the railroad to build
over the bpnch. but at the same time
bp made to yield a bumper crop of
profits.
Taking its various steps in their or
der, the first move in the game was to
sell the mine to Grandfather Jasper
while it was still a going proposition;
and this was done. But one of the
conditions of the sale (Beasley told us
this) was that the selling corporation
should continue to operate the mine,
not as a lessee, but under a contract
by which the operating company
should receive a certain percentage of
the output; an arrangement which
gave the holdup artists ample oppor
tunity to prepare for the coup de main.
How these preparations were made,
and the secret of them kept from leak
ing out. still remained one of the un
solved mysteries, though Beasley sug
gested that probably imported work
men were employed, and that the work
had been done under jealous super
vision with ail the needful precautions
taken against publicity. The tight
wooden box—which would figure as a
part of the shaft lining—bad been
built, and into the box the creek had
been diverted by means of the small
dam and the underground conduit.
With the water admitted, to rise in
the box to the level of its intake in
the creek reservoir, the trap was set
and was ready to be sprung.
Beyond tlds point there was a gap
we were obliged to bridge by conjec
ture, but the inferences were all plausi
ble enough. Doubtless the plotters
had notified my grandfather that his
mine was flooded and was no longer
workable. Doubtless, again, he had
authorized them to buy the needful
pumping machinery and to install it—
which they did.
In this barefaced ‘inposture the plot
ters had conceivatily builded some
thing upon Grandfather Jasper’^ ad
vanced age as an insurance against
any too-searching investigation; but
beyond this they had carefully dis
armed any suspicion that lie might
otherwise have harbored by encourag
ing him—in the actual purchase of the
property—to take expert advice, ard
by craftily priming him, by under
statements of the facts, to trust tlieili.
Only rumors of what had occurred
at this visit readied Angels; hut Beas
ley could testify that my grandfather
had come and returned alone, ami that
after the pumping demonstration had
been made he had seemed disposed to
pocket his huge loss and to call it ti
had day’s work.
The later developments were net
hard to figure out. Beasley was able
to tell us that the proposed railroad
branch to run to the new copper prop
erties in Little Cinnabar gulch was
now a certainty for the very near fu
ture. Hence the time was fully ripe
for the recovery of the Cinnabar by
the plotters. No doubt they had con
fidently assumed that a repurchase of
the property—not directly by them
selves. of course, but by an agent who
would figure as a disinterested third
party—would he easy. Beasley said
that there had been some talk of an
underrunning drainage tunnel, such as
Daddy and I had figured upon—this at
the time of the springing of the flood
trap—and that the cost had been esti
mated at half a million. Unquestion
ably the robbers had assumed that an
old man who had already charged his
venture up to profit and loss would
sell for a song rather than to venture
again; and in this they were probably
well within the truth.
But at the moment when they were
ready to complete the circle of im
posture, death—the death of Grand
father Jasper—had stepped in to com
plicate matters. Somebody—possibly
Cousin Percy—had corresponded with
whoever was representing the robber
syndicate, and by this means the plot
ters had learned that they would now
hitve to reckon with an heir. How
Bullerton came to be employed by
them almost at the Instant of his re
turn from Soutli America we did not
kpow; hut we cojjhl easily understand
that with the new complication wiich
had risen by reason of Grandfa her
Jasper’s death, it was highly acces
sary for some emissary of the syndi
cate to get on the ground quickly, pre
pared to forestall by purchase, gu.’le,
or. in the last resort by force, any at
tempt of the Dudley heirs to pry into
tilings they were not to he permitted
to know.
The pushing of the fight for posses
sion to the finnl and property-destroy
ing extremity was another matter that
Beasley was aide to explain.
“Ye see, it was a case o’ fish ’r cut-
hait, and do it quick." the marshal ex
plained. "If lie could run you folks
out, pronto, and get possession afore
anybody come along to ask a lot o’
p’lnted questions, he stood about one
chance in a dozen to lie out of it
some way. If you-all got killed in the
scrimmage, he’d scatter his men in the
woods anil try to make me b’lieve that
you’d got done up trying to run him
off."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
CALOMEL GOOD
BUT NEXT DOSE
I HAY SALIVATE
It Is Mercury, Quicksilver, Shocks
Liver and Attacks Your
Bones.
Calomel salivation Is horrible. It
swells the tongue, loosens the teeth
and starts rheumatism. There’s no rea
son why a person should take sicken
ing, salivating calomel when a few
cents buys a large bottle of Dodson’s
Liver Tone—a perfect substitute for
calomel. It is a pleasant vegetable
liquid which will start your liver just
as surely as calomel, but it doesn’t
make you sick and can not salivate.
Calomel is a dangerous drug; be
sides, it may make you feel weak, sick
and nauseated tomorrow. Don’t lose a
day’s work. Take a spoonful of Dod
son’s Liver Tone Instead and you will
wake up feeling great. No salts neces
sary. Y’our druggist says if you don’t
find Dodson’s Liver Tone acts better
than treacherous calomel your money
is waiting for you.—Advertisement.
This is a, country in which one man
:s as good as another, and sometimes
good as two others.
WORKS FOR CHILD
HOST KEEP WELL
Mothers in a Like Situation
Should Read This Letter
from Mrs. Enrico
Chicago, Dlinoifl.—“I took Lydia EL
Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound for a
serious trouble. I
had tried doctors and
all said the same—an
operation. At first I
only felt the pain on
my left side,butlater
I seemed to feel it on
both sides. I am a
power sewing-ma
chine operator and
have a little girl to
support. I work in a
tailor shop and that
line of work has been
very slack this year and I am home part
of the time. I do not like to take any
chances, so I consulted my friends, and
one lady said, ‘Take Lydia Pinkham’s
medicine, ’ so I did. I have felt better
rightalong and am in goodenoughhealth
to go to work. I recommend your Veg
etable Compound and Sanativ? Wash to
all.”—Mrs. Mary Enrico, 459 N. Car
penter St., Chicago, Illinois.
Often the mother is obliged to support
her children and good health is neces
sary. Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable
Compound is just the medicine you can
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men’s ailments and the relief it brought
Mrs. Enrico it may bring to you. Keep
well by taking Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veg
etable Compound.
Gains 21
Pounds
IN SHORT TIME
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Only by making the test yourself
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■^SJMASTINS^r
VITAMON
A Freak Dinner.
Freak dinners, says London Sketch,
are no new Invention; they are as
old as the flrsi rich and greedy men
One that took place some generations
ago was held at Carlton house. Ball
Mall. There were over 2,000 guests,
nnd the two chief features of the oc
casion were Big Sam, a porter eight
feet high, and a marble canal down
the center of the high table filled with
living gold and silver fish.