Newspaper Page Text
tmm afoul
m^YILIAS
Fp^-MEN
George B.
*/bss> a - Kpdneu
CHAPTER X—Continued.
—l3
Dorothy’s father has been killed.
She is grief-stricken. The blind priest
wanders into the Americarf mine
house, learns of the murder, and of
fers himself for death at the revenge
ful Wilkes’ hands. Then he turns to
state the purpose of his mission.
“What mission is this, father?” It
was Marian who spoke.
“My search for my lost Emerald
Bell,” the padre replied. “It is writ
ten, ‘Many shall seek but it shall be
hidden from them.’ ”
He paused, a sudden flurry from Dor
othy meeting his ear. His hearing,
quickened as it is in the blind, was as
delicate as that of the prairie dog,
which the Apaches say can hear the
bursting of the seed-pods in the bunch
grass in the spring.
At his words the girl had released
herself from Mrs. Fane’s encircling
arm and was hurriedly loosening her
hair, which fell in sheeted flame over
her shoulders. Delving with trembling
hands in its golden masses, she took
from its resting place, secure alike
from sight and touch—the Emerald
Bell!
“Take it —take it!” she said sobbing
ly. “I wish we had never seen it! It
has brought nothing but evil fortune.”
She thrust It into the trembling
hands of the old man. Wilkes and
Kynaston saw the tears stream down
his cheeks. The blind do not weep
easily. They stood astonished.
“Out of the North it came, and out
of the North it has returned. Thanks
be to God for his mercies! His shrine
is no more empty. Evil fortune? Si,
aenorita! It has been so since Monte
zuma gave it to Cortes and was killed.
“Since the great conquistador took
it and died, a broken-hearted and dis
graced man; since Pedrarias took it
and was poisoned—so did it go until it
reached the resting place from which
the followers of Zapata stole it. Nor
shall the Teniente Kynaston suffer.
Full proofs of ownership shall be for
warded from the shrine, that his name
may be cleared of suspicion.”
He broke off, patting his recovered
treasure—even, they thought, talking
to it.
, “Now indeed shall I go south with a
light heart. My happiness would be
complete if I could but see it, but that
is not to be. What is that noise, se
mores?” he exclaimed. "It sounds like
firing.”
It was firing—a perfect feu de joie
in the besieger’s camp. They saw a
flurry. Men were running in and out
like ants in a hill.
“They’re either plannin’ some more
■devilment,” said Wilkes acidly, “or
else they’re goin’ to pull out. I hope
it's the last.”
Kynaston had not told Wilkes or
Dorothy of the startling news he had
heard while in Obispo’s camp. In fact,
the excitement of the morning had
almost driven it from his mind, and he
now hardly believed it could be pos
sible that Villa would attempt such a
wild plan. But the sudden commotion
in the camp might have some connec
tion with Villa’s attack. Columbus was
less than forty miles away, and a cou
rier could have traveled the distance
since early morning. If it was really
w r ar, he must rejoin his command at
once, and the women must be removed
from the clutches of these bandits at
■all hazards. Without stopping to ex
plain, he ran for the yard.
“Here, where you goin’, Kynaston?”
called Wilkes.
“I’m going to take a look at that
auto to see if it can run.”
“Weil, it can if a man can be found
to run it. What ’ve you got in your
head?”
“I can run it if the engine is in good
order,” said Mrs. Fane quickly. "Oh,
Mr. Kynaston, if you think we can
get away in it, let’s waste no time!
Let’s look at it; I can show you what
to do. Come!”
They went to the shed, where she
showed him how to fill tank and radia
tor. She stood over him explaining
the different stops while he tested the
engine. Grimy, dirty with oil and dust,
he worked like a Trojan.
Suddenly something prompted him
to turn. He found Mrs. Fane gazing
fixedly at him.
“It’s all right,” she said abruptly.
“I know It all. I heard Dorothy and—
I know —”
“What?”
He flushed uneasily under her eyes
“I know about the card game, and
I am woman enough, believe me, Mr.
Kynaston, to know what prompted you.
It was no mere quixotic impulse that
made you risk your life to save Mr.
Upton. I wish you all the luck in the
world. Now go in to Dorothy. She
needs you, not me, at present.”
Kynaston found the girl sitting by
the table, her head upon her arms, her
hands nervously tapping the rough sur
face. Very gently he took both her
hands in his and drew them to him,
holding them tightly, till in answer to
the pressure she raised her head and
looked at him.
Still he said no word; only his eyes
met hers. In their gaze there was a
wondrous dawning that brought the
vivid color to her cheeks. Slowly—
very slowly—in answer to his fixed
gaze, she rose to her full height, her
eyes luminous with unshed tears. Un
resisting, he drew her to him. It was
not till she felt the tender pressure of
his arm about her shoulders that she
gave way and burst into tears.
"It is more than I can stand!” she
cried. “I cannot —cannot!—stand it.
You do not know—and I can never tell
you—”
“And I shall never ask you, dear
heart. I do not want to know what
you do not wish to tell me. This is
no time for me to empty my heart to
you. Do you know, darling, those lines
that go:
Enough for me in dreams to see
And touch thy garment’s hem.
Thy feet have trod so near to God
I may not follow them.
"All that it is necessary for me to
know I know now. You do, don’t you?”
To his tightening arms she gave
mute answer, and so for a second or
two strode leaning against him, her soft
cheek pressing his.
Wilkes’ voice brought them back to
earth.
“If we’re goin’—if that machine ’ll
work—we've got to leave at dark, an’
that’s only two hours. Nolan, get your
things and make ’em few, ’cause we'll
travel light. The Mexicans can stay
here in quiet when those greasers
yonder leave, and a bunch of them has
already started east on a run. Some
thing out o’ the ordinary is a-happenin’
near here all right.”
It was not until then that Kynaston
explained to Wilkes the news he had
heard in the camp the night before.
“Well! I’m damned!” was the old
man’s comment. "But, Kynaston, it
means that we got to get these women
out of here and get them out quick.
Are you ready?”
Mrs. Fane answered for him from
her room, where she was packing a
bag for herself and Dorothy. The old
man wandered aimlessly about the
house till dusk should come.
It came in a purple setting, the raw,
red hills taking on unearthly colors in
the dying glow.
Range by range the hills stood up
against the sky, melting fast from
sapphire into gray. The great evening
star winked at them solemnly from the
Pass of the Virgins.
Under Mrs. Fane’s skillful superin
tendence Kynaston again tested every-
He Kissed Her Openly.
thing about the motor, stowed the
single valise, and lashed the water bag
fast to the back seat. Then he ran the
machine around the side of the house
away from the Mexican camp and
helped the two girls to their places.
“Not there, Kynaston!” prompted
Wilkes. “Not on the seats, but down
on the floor till we get past the camp.
The remainder of them are breakin.’
camp now.”
They were, and the noise of it
swung up to the wonderful Mexican
stars.
“We’ve got to keep to the straight
trail till we pass the house yonder.
After that you can drive anywhere.
There isn’t an arroyo for ten miles.
They’ll shoot when they see us, so
don’t light your lights— What is it,
Miss Dorothy?”
“The priest—the old priest!” she
cried. “We cannot leave him; he is
blind!”
“He’s come from Yucatan blind, I
reckin he can go back.”
But without arguing the matter fur
ther the girl silently turned back to
the house.
Half angrily, still protesting, Wilkes
and Kynaston followed.
The shed where the automobile had
been stored was at the rear.
As they approached the open door
of the shed they saw him, squatting
cross-legged on the floor.
His blind eyes were turned to the
open mesas and to the keen wind that
whipped in from the great expanse of
THE DOUGLAS ENTERPRISE, DOUGLAS, GEORGIA.
the free range. In his Lanas, toying
with it in his lap, he held the wonder-
Bell.
The green stone, with that curious
property that some jewels possess,
gave off the light absorbed during day
time. Now it was winking and twin
kling with an evil light as the padre
cupped it in his brown palms.
“I know it is here,” he said slowly,
"and yet I cannot see it. I shall never
see it, yet will the old shrine be the
richer for my wanderings. I know it
is green, and I can feel its long, pear
shaped tongue that the sea gave it.”
He shook it; the pearl tongue gave
out one clear note.
“Will you not come with us, padre?”
Dorothy spoke very gently, as one
speaks to a child.
“Whither, then?”
“To our own land, where there is
no war, no trouble, no murder, no op
pression.”
“Yes; it is to that land I travel when
the good God gives surcease from
labor. Till then—”
A whiplike crack from the darkness
jarred across the silences of the night
—a long, whiplike crack, followed by
a loud, clear note, accompanied by a
sharp explosion. The old man fell
.prone upon his back, amid a hundred
twinkling fragments of the Bell.
Wilkes dashed out of the shed.
“A Mauser!” he snapped. “Some
greaser trying for a last shot smashed
the Bell and killed the old man! Come
on! Let’s get out of here quick!”
“Start the motor!” called Kynaston.
“I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”
He stopped to gather up the frag
ments of the Bell —the precious frag
ments which would substantiate his
story at the coming investigation and
which would clear him of the charge
of having stolen the relic.
A moment later, as he ran around
to the front of the house again, the
machine was ready, purring, panting,
and jarring under its engine.
“Throw in your clutch!” cried
Wilkes. “We're all here and we’re all
ready.”
Kynaston leaped to his place, shoved
down the pedal, threw his clutch into
the low and pulled it back to second.
The machine took the curve below the
house, shooting forward like a projec
tile on the trail that showed steel
brown in the dusk.
“It’s touch and go,” muttered the old
man. "Nolan, keep the ladies down.”
His gray beard blew back over his
shoulder; in the wind his eyes nar
rowed to pin-points.
“Throw her wide open, son!” he
oommanded.
Kynaston’s foot pressed the gasoline
control and the car shot forward faster
and faster. Past the first line of scat
tered fires they went, greeted by yells
and an occasional shot. Past the lines
where the troops were forming, toward
the house whither Kynaston had been
taken, a prisoner; the house in which
Upton had been murdered.
“Keep her goin’ and throw her as
wide open as you can!” said Wilkes.
“I can hardly hold her as it is!”
panted Kynaston. “She’s pulling like
a runaway locomotive on a down
grade.”
It was true. They had left the trail,
and were heading northwest across
the unfenced mesa, certain of a five
mile flat with nothing worse than a
prairie-dog mound, a bunch of grease
wood, a sage-bush between them and
the much-desired line. Behind them
they heard the hammer of pursuing
hoofbeats; apparently every mounted
man left in camp was after them.
A storm of shots swept over and
about them, one impinging on the iron
that old Upton had so wisely placed
above the engine. Wilkes reached
back without looking and forced Doro
thy, who was about to rise, again to
her knees.
“Keep down!” he growled in a kindly
voice. “We can’t take a chance now;
we’re too near the line.”
Rock and bush and stunted tree
stood out in silhouette as if drawn iq
India ink against a silver background.
Behind them they heard yells
shouts and shots.
And then, coming toward them mn a
run, they saw a number of mounted
men. For a moment Kynaston believed
they were caught, but it was for a mo
ment only. A shout from a dozen
lusty troopers told him it was Ameri
can cavalrymen in Mexico—across the
line at last.
Tho pursuing Mexicans turned and
fled into the darkening night. But the
car continued on, though at a lessen
ing pace, and in a few minutes they
shot past a great stone monument,
whitewashed, four-square, that marked
the limits of anarchy and murder.
"It’s like American cavalry the
world over —oh hand in the nick o’
time!” said Kynaston.
They ran up the hill and over it and
halted on the farther slope below the
crest. It was then that Kynaston, get
ting down from the car, helped Doro
thy first of all from the tonneau, and.
catching her in his arms, kissed her
openly before them all.
“An’ that,” said Wilkes, to whose
arm Mrs. Fane was clinging, "is what
I call the proper endin’. Of course, it
ain’t really the endin’!”
“Take the ladies back to my camp,"
interjected Kynaston, “and then make
all the necessary arrangements for a
quick wedding.”
And Dorothy did not contradict him.
THE END.
German Newspaper in Belgrade.
The old Serbian capital now has a
German newspaper, for the first time
in its history. The paper is a daily
sheet of six pages, published under the
title “Belgrader Nachrichten.” In its
first issue the new daily announced
that Belgrade would remain under the
Austro-Hungarian flag forever, even if
Serbia should not disappear from the
map entirely.
Gambler’s
Luck
By GEORGE MUNSON
. j f
(Copyright. 1816. by W. G. Chapman.)
Jim Davis, in the train, cursed at
the delay in reaching his destination.
He was in a bad humor with the
world —not that this was unusual with
him. His gambling trip, which was to
have netted him enough for six
months of extravagance and luxury,
besides the modicum needed for Molly,
had produced only a few hundreds,
thanks to the new vigilance of the po
lice.
He watched the girl in the opposite
compartment. She was a pretty girl,
with a tear-stained face at which she
dabbed furtively with her pocket
handkerchief. She looked as Molly
had looked, ten years before, when
he had persuaded her to throw over
slow-going Jack Douglas and become
a gambler’s wife.
He knew that Molly had regretted
her choice every week of her life since
then, and he had taunted her with it
and taken pleasure in inviting Doug
las to the house. He could see their
love for each other, unexpressed.
What a fool Douglas was, not to take
advantage of his long absences! But
wliat a good thing that Molly was a
church member and so incapable of
deceiving him!
He cursed again as the train sped
on. lie had long since tired of Molly.
Still, it was convenient to have the
little household drudge at home, to
cook and slave for him in the rare in
tervals of his presence there.
Suddenly the train lurched, swayed,
swung giddily along the edge of the
-Mlf?
:s» '
“Help Me!” She Pleaded.
embankment and crashed into noth
ingness !
Jim Davis was on his feet, staring
at the ruin. The girl who had
awakened his interest lay pinned be
neath a beam. There were heartrend
ing groans and cries everywhere. By
a miracle he, Davis, had escaped un
scathed. Gambler’s luck!
He did not stop to think of the suf
ferings of his fellow travelers. The
wreck had taken place just at the out
skirts of his home town. Nearby a
trolley <*hr had stopped. A crowd was
gathering, running from every quarter
of; /the compass. Davis cursed as he
prushed his way through them aud
mounted the trolley. Soon he was
speeding far from the scene of the dis
aster.
Half an hour later lie was standing
in his apartment. It was queer that
Molly had left the door unlocked. He
would take it out of her for that. He
approached the little, barely furnished
living room quietly, intending to sur
prise her and see the happiness fade
out of her eyes. He flattered himself
that he could read his wife’s face like
u book.
To his surprise Jie saw Douglas
standing there, and Molly, with tear
stained face, leaning her elbow on the
mantel and looking at h ? m attentively.
“I am sorry,” he said convention
ally.
“It is terrible,” said Molly.
‘The newspaper gives his name
among those killed. I thought it my
duty to be the first to tell you.”
Molly put her hands in his. “Thank
you, Jack,” she answered. “I can’t
pretend to be sorry.”
“You ought to be glad,” said Jack
Douglas, flushing.
Jim Davis chuckled. The situation
was amusing—extremely so. The
poor fool could have divorced him
years before, and she had felt bound
by her stupid promise at the marriage
altar. And even now these two dared
not tell each other of their love.
Jim was mistaken there. Douglas
held her hands tight in his own.
“Molly, you know what this means to
me,” he said.
She leaned her face against his
cheek. “To me,” she murmured.
“He was a bad man, Molly.”
“Sometimes I think of the man I
used to love,” she answered. “He was
not wholly bad. Jack. But I shall try
to forget him.”
She raised her head and their lips
met. Incredulity and rage swept over
Davis’ face. He had not dreamed that
tills love-making would go on in the
fnce of his supposed death. He thrust
the door upen and stalked into the
room.
“A little premature, Douglas,” he
sneered. “I’m sorry to break up this
love-making scene, but I couldn’t die
when I knew how much it would mean
to you, Molly!”
To his amazement neither answered
him. Jack put his arm übout Molly
and drew her closer to him. Jim Davis
ran toward him, his fists clenched.
“Get out, you blackguard!” he
roared, making a vicious swing at the
other.
His fist seemed to pass right
through Douglas. And still there was
the loving smile on Molly’s face. And
while Jim Dflvis looked at them in
consternation everything faded, and
he became aware of an intense and un
endurable pain that gripped his body
and wrung it as if in a vise.
He opened his eyes and the light of
day almost blinded him. He was ly
ing under the wreckage. It had all
been a dream. Near him was the girl
whom he had seen, pinned under the
beam, but not severely hurt. She was
free above the knee, and it rested
lightly upon her leg, without pressing
there. Still, to escape was impossi
ble.
Jim Davis rolled toward her, and
every motion was like the plunging of
knives into his body.
He tried to lift the beam, but of
course, could not. And suddenly a
fresh outcry from near by, and a
sense of intolerable heat, startled him.
The wreckage was afire from the en
gine. The flames were creeping near
er. Men were working frantically to
remove the injured, but there was
hardly time.
A burning cinder lit on the girl’s
dress. Jim Davis picked it up with his
free hand and pushed it away. He
knew now that he was paralyzed from
the waist downward.
“Help me!” pleaded the girl again,
in terror.
The flames'were circling about them.
A trick of the wind had sent a shower
of sparks across the spot where they
lay, and the wrecked cars on the other
side of them were blazing. And then
—two men rushed through the smoke
and grasped him.
“Not me!” said Davis. “There’s a
girl there —under the smoke. Get the
beam off her leg.”
As the girl’s choking cry came to
their ears they released the gambler
and plunged into the smoke. Davis
watched them anxiously. Would they
succeed? They strained with all their
might at the fallen beam, while the red
sparks whirled about them, and the
smoke covered them. And Davis
watched more eagerly than he had
ever watched anything in his life.
Suddenly, with a mighty heave, the
men got the beam away. Davis saw
them grasp the girl and carry her to
safety. And then with a roar the
flames swept over him.
Perhaps with that act of abnegation
the gambler made atonement for his
misspent life. In that last moment he
understood that it had been granted
him to visit his wife in the spirit, to
learn and understand. But instead of
bitterness there was only Joy in his
heart that Molly was to be free.
So, smiling at the last throw of fate,
Jim Davis yielded up his body to the
flames.
MAKES STUDY OF WORKERS
This Employer, as the Story States,
Does Not Decide From a
Single Interview.
It is my observation that while an
applicant for a position is frequently
ill at ease, he is nevertheless usually
able, during his first interview, to cre
ate the best impression of which he is
at any time capable, provided you
make due allowance for the embar
rassment which a reasonably modest
man must necessarily feel in talking
about himself.
On the occasion of his first interview
the applicant is on mental dress pa
rade. He has rehearsed the scene, and,
while he may forget some of his lines,
nevertheless there is a unity of thought
in his remarks which is easily capable
of misleading you as to liis mental
caliber.
Thus it is that we like to meet a
man several times before we hire him.
We want to talk to him when he is
not on dress parade. If he has de
cided that he Is practically sure of a
position with us. so much the better.
In fact, that is the best test of all.
Thinking he has caught his car, will
he sink comfortably into his seat or
will he remain tense and alert?
A year or so ago I received from a
young man the most favorable Impres
sion that I had ever gained of any
prospective employee on first sight. I
saw in him visions of a man who might
some day sit at my own desk.
Yet a week later he proved at a
luncheon interview to be merely a
lump of human clay. He had the
brain, but he was mentally lazy. He
made his supreme effort at our first in
terview and, satisfied that he had at
tained his object, subsided into his
customary torpid mental state. He
had read and studied but with no defi
nite purpose nor with any adequate
comprehension.—William Maxwell, iD
Collier’s Weekly.
What’s the Use?
Daughter—Father, our domestic
science professor is teaching us how
to spend money.
Parent (Interrupting)—Why doesn’t
he teach fish how to swim? —Pitt
Panther.
Drawback to Fame.
It is quite natural to long for fame,
despite the fact that fame makes it
just that much harder to dodge our
creditors.
♦ 4444444444444
«■ ♦
► DICKERSON, KELLY 4
♦ & ROBERTS ♦
♦ Attorneys at Law 4
♦ Tanner-Dickerson Building, 4
♦ DOUGLAS, GA 4
♦ 4
♦ ♦ + + + + + + + + ♦♦♦♦
■.„—.„ , A , - .
♦ 4444444444444
f ♦
♦ W. C. Lankford. R. A. Moore. 4
♦ LANKFORD & MOORE ♦
♦ Lawyers 4
♦ DOUGLAS GEORGIA. 4
♦ ♦
44444444444444
♦ 44444444444444
♦ 4
♦ DR. WILL SIBBETT, ♦
♦ Treatment of Eye, Ear, Nose ♦
4 and Throat a Specialty. ♦
♦ DOUGLAS, GA 4
♦ ♦
444444444444444
44444444444444
♦ *
♦ W. C. BRYAN ♦
♦ ATTORNEY-AT-LAW ♦
♦ Lankford Building, ♦
4 DOUGLAS, GA ♦
♦ ♦
44444444444444
44444444444444
♦ ♦
♦ CHASTAIN A HENSON ♦
+ ATTORNEYS AT LAW 4
♦ Overstreet Building ♦
♦ DOUGLAS GEORGIA ♦
♦ ♦
44444444444444
44444444444444
♦ •
♦ NOW IS THE *
4 *
4 TIME TO SUBSCRIBE ♦
♦ ♦
♦ TO THIS PAPER. ♦
♦ ♦
44444444444444
*♦♦ + ♦ + ♦ + + + ♦♦4
4 4
4 DR. GORDON BURNS 4
♦ Physician and Surgeon 4
4 Office Union Bank Building 4
4 DOUGLAS, GA 4
4 ♦
4444444444444
4444444444444
4 ♦
4 F. WILLIS DART 4
4 ATTORNEY AT LAW 4
4 Union Bank Building 4
4 DOUGLAS, GA 4
4 4
4 4 4 4 444444 4 44
44444444444444
4 4
4 W. H. HUGHES, D. C. 4
4 4
4 CHIROPRACTOR 4
4 4
4 Union Bank Building, 4
4 DOUGLAS, GA. 4
4 4
44444444444444
44444444444444
4 4
4 DR. T. A. WEATHERS 4
4 4
4 DENTIST 4
4 4
4 AMBROSE, GA. 4
44444444444444
444444444444444
4 4
4 DR. E. B. MOUNT 4
4 VETERINARY SURGEON 4
4 Douglas, Georgia 4
4 Office; J. S. Lott’s Stable 4
444444444444444
44444444444444
4 4
4 TURRENTINE & ALDERMAN 4
4 DENTISTS 4
4 Union Bank Building 4
4 DOUGLAS, GA 4
4 4
44444444444444
44444444444444
4 4
4 J. W. QUINCEY 4
4 Attorney and Counselor at Law 4
4 Union Bank Building 4
4 DOUGLAS GEORGIA 4
4 4
4444444444444
4444444444444
4 4
4 McDonald & Willingham 4
4 Attorneys at Law 4
4 Third Floor Union Bank Bldg. 4
4 DOUGLAS, . . . GEORGIA 4
4 4
4444444444444
DR. JAMES DeLAMAR
Office in Langford Bldg.
Hours 11 a. m. to 1 p. m.
Sunday 9 to 11 i n
DOUGLAS. GA.
il QUR time,
p I ” knowledge
r Ol i and experience
£ | ■in the printing
Oale I bnsines*.
When yoa are in need of some
thing in this Ene
DON'T FORGET THI! !