About The Grady County progress. (Cairo, Grady County, Ga.) 1910-19?? | View Entire Issue (March 19, 1915)
GRADY COUNTY PROGRESS, CAIRO, GEORGIA. The Gall of the Cumberlands By-Charles Neville Buck With Illustrations from Photographs of Scenes ; in the Play (Copyright, igij, by W. J. Watt He Co.) SYNOPSIS. ,.On Mlsory crook Salty Miller icott, a landscape Josao Purvy of finds oonaulbuB. „ „ clan ltua been allot anil Snmson la aim neoted of tho crime. Snmaon dunloa it. Tito shooting breaks tho truco In the Hollnmn-South foud. Lescutt discovers nrtlBtlc ability in 8amson. Samson thrashes Tamarack Spicer and denounces him ns tho "truce-buster" who shot Purvy. Snmson tells the South clnn that ho is going to leave tho mountains. Leseott goes homo to Now York. Snmson bids Spicer and Sally farewell and followa. In Now York Samson studies art and learns much of city ways. Drennle Leseott per suades Wilfred Horton, her dilettante ' lover, to do u man's work In tho world. Prompted by her love, Sally tenches her self to write. Horton throws himself Into the business world and becomes well- hated by predatory financiers -and politi cians. At a Bohemian resort Sumson meets William Fnrblsl), sporty aoclnl par asite, nnd Horton's enemy. Farblsh con spires with others to make Horton Jeal ous. nnd succeeds. FnrblBh brings Horton and Samson together at tho Konmore club's shooting lodge, nnd forces an open rupture, expecting Samson to kill Horton nnd so rid the political and financial thugs of tho crusader. Samson exposes the plot nnd thrashes the conspirators. Samson Is advised by his tenchcrs to turn to po~ trait painting. Drennle commissions nil to paint her portrait. Sally goes to school. Sumson goes to Paris to study. CHAPTER XII—Continued. “No," site said, "we haven’t done that, yet. I guess we won’t. . . - I think he’d rather stay outside, Wil fred. ir I was sure I loved him, and that ho loved me, I'd feel like a cheat —there la the other girl to thinkj’of. . . . And, besides, I'm not sure wi I want myself. . . . But I’m horrlbl afraid I’m going to end by losing you both." Horton stood silent. It was tea time, and from below came the strains of tho ship’s orchestra. A few ulster- mufllod passengers gloomily paced the dock. .“You won’t lose us both, Drennie,” he Bald, steadily. “You may lose your choice—but, If you find yourself able * to fall back on substitutes, I'll be there, waiting.” , For once he did not meet her scru tiny, Or know of it. His own eyes were fixed on the slow swing of heavy, gray-green waters. He was smiling, but it is ns a man smiles whon ho con. fronts despair and pretends that every' thing is quite all right. The girl, looked at him with a choko in her throat. ;■ "Wilfred,” she said, laying her hand op his arm, “I’m not worth worrying over. Really, I’m not. If Samson ''South proposed to me today, I know that i I should refuse him. I am not at all sure that I am the least little bit in love with him. Only, don’t you Bee 'I can’t be quite sure I’m not? It would be horrible if we all made a mistake. May I have till Christmas jto make up my mind for all time? I’ll tell you then, dear, if you • care to ...wait.” CHAPTER XIII. Tamarack Spicer sat on the top of a box car, swinging his legs over the side. He .was clad In overalls, and in the poclcetp of his breeches reposed a bulging flask of red liquor, and an unbulging pay envelope. Tamarack had been "railroading” for several months this time. He had made new record for sustained effort and Industry, but now Juno was beckon ing him to the mountains with vaga bond yearnings for freedom and lei sure. Many things had invited his soul. Almost four years had passed since 'Samson had left the mountains, and In four years a woman Can change her mind. Sally might, when they met on the road, greet him once more as kins man and agree to forget his faulty method of courtship. This time ho would be more diplomatic. Yesterday he had gone to the" boss and “called for hiB time." Today he was paid off, and a free lance. as he reflected On thesq matters a fellow-trainman came along tho top of the car and sat down at Tamarack’s side. This brakemnn had also been recruited from the mountains, though from another seatlon—over toward the Virginia line. “So yer qulttln’?” observed the new comer. Spicer nodded. “Goln’ back thar on Misery?" Again Tamarack answered with a jerk of his head; . “I’ve been layln’ off ter tell ye some thin', Tam’rack.” “Cut her loose.” “I laid over in Hixon last week, an’ some fellerB that used ter know my mother’s folks took me down in the cellar of .Hollman's store, an’ give mo some licker.” "What of hit?” “They was talkin’ 'bout you.’.’ “What did they say?” “I seen that they was enemies of yours, an’ they wasn’t in no good hu mor, so, when they axed me ef 1 knowed ye, I ’lowed I didn’t know nothin’- good about ye. I had ter cuss ye out, or git in trouble mysolf.” Tamarack cursed the whole Hollman tribe, and his companion wont on; "Jim Asberry was. thar. He ’lowed, they'd found out thet you’d done shot Purvy thet time, an’ he said”—the brnkenmn paused to add emphasis to his conclusion—"thet tho next time ye come home, he 'lowed ter git ye plumb short." Tamarack scowled. ’ “Much obleeged,” ho replied. At Hixon Tamarack Spicer strolled along the street toward the court house. He wished to be seen. So long as it was broad daylight and ho dis played,' no hostility, ho knew he was safe—and he had plans. Standing beforo the Hollman store were Jim ■ Asborry nnd several com panions. They greeted Tamarack af fably and he paused to talk. "Rl'dln* over ter Misery?" inquired Asborry. “ 'Lowed I mout ns well." "Mind et 1 rides with ye es fur cs Jesse's place?" “Plumb glad ter have company," drawled Tamarack. They chatted of many things, and traveled slowly, but, when tlioy came to those narrows where they could not ride stirrup to stirrup each jockeyed for the rear position, nnd tho man who found himself forced into the lead turned in his saddle nnd talked back over bis shoulder, with wary, though seemingly careless, eyes. Each knew tho other was bent on his murder. At Purvy’s gate Asberry waved fare- woll and turned in. Tamarack rode on, but shortly he hitched his .horse In the concealment of a hollow, walled with huge.qocks, and disappeared into the laurel. He began climbing, in a crouched position, bringing each foot down noiselessly and.pausing often to listen. Jim Asberry had not been outwardly armed when ho left Spicer. But, soon, tho brakemnn's delicately attuned ears caught a sound that made him He flat in the lee of a great log, where he was masked in clumps of flowering rho' dodendron. Presently Asborry passed him, also walking cautiously, but hur riedly, and cradling a Winchester rifle in the hollow of his arm. Then Tama rack knew that Asberry was taking this cut to head him off and waylay him in the gorge a mile away by road butm short distance only over the hill Spicer held his heavy revolver cocked in hiB hand, but It was too near tho Pur.vy house to risk a shot. Ho waited a moment, and then, rising, went on noiselessly with n snarling grin, stalk ing the man who was stalking him. Asberry found a place at the foot of a huge pine where the undergrowth would cloak him. Twenty yordB below ran the creek-bed road, returning from its long horseshoe deviation. When he had taken his. position his faded butternut clothing matched the earth as Inconspicuously as a quail matches dead leaves, and-he settled himself to wait. Slowly and with inflnlto cau tion his intended victim stole down, guarding each step, until he was in short and certain range, but, instead of being at the front, he came from the back. He, also, lay flat on his stomach and raised the already cocked pistol. He steadied it in a two-banded grip against a tree trunk and trained It with deliberate care on a point to tho left of the other mnn’s spine just below the shoulder blades. Then he pulled the trigger! He did not go down to inspect his work. It was not necessary. The Instantaneous fashion with which the head of tho ambuscader settled forward on Its face told him all he wanted to know. He slipped back to his horse, mounted and rode fast to the house of Spicer South, demanding asylum. The next day came word that-if Tamarack Spicer would surrender and stand trial in a court dominated by the Hollmans the truce would con tinue. Otherwise the “war was on.” Tho Souths flung back this message; “Come and git him." But Hollman and Purvy, hypocriti cally clamoring for the sanctity of the law, made' no effort to come and “git him.” They knew that Spicer South's house wub now a fortress, prepared for siege. They knew that every trail thither was picketed. Also, they knew a better way. This time they had the color of the law on their side. The circuit judge, through the sheriff, asked for troops and troops came. Their tents dotted the river bank be low the Hixon bridge. A detail un der a white flag went out after Tama rack Spicer. The militia captain In command, who feared neither feudist nor death, was courteously received. He had brains, and he assured them that he acted under orders which could not bo disobeyed. Unless they surrendered tho prisoner, gatllng guns would follow. If necessary they would bo dragged behind ox teams. Many militiamen might be killed, but for each of them the state had another. If Spicer would surrender, the officer would guarantee him personal protec tion, and, if it. seemed necessary, a change of venue would secure him trial in another circuit For hours tho clan deliberated. For the soldiers they felt no enmity. For the young cap tain they felt an instinctive liking. He was a man. Old Spicer South, restored to an echo of hiB former robustnosB by tho call of action, gave the clan’s verdict. I’Hlt haln’t the co’te we're skeered of. Ef this boy goes ter town he won’t never git into no co'te. He’ll be murdered.” The officer held out hie hand. “As man to man," he said, “I pledge you my word that no one shall take him except by process of law. I’m not working for tho Hollmans or the Pur- vys. I know their breed." For a space old South looked into the soldier’s eyes and the soldier looked back. “I’ll take yore handshake on thet bargain,” said the mountaineer, grave ly. "Tam’rack," he added, in a voice of finality, "ye’ve got ter go.” Tho officer lmd infant what no said. He marchod his prisoner into Hixon at the center of a hollow square, with muskets at the ready. And yet, as tho boy paRsed into the courthouse yard, with a soldier rubbing elbows on each side, a cleanly aimed shot soundod from somewhere. The smokeless pow der told no tale, and with l)luo shirts and army hats circling him. Tamarack full and died. That afternoon one of Hollman's henchmen \Vas found lying In the road with his lifeless face In the water of the creek.. Tho next day, as old Spicer South stood at the door of his cabin, a rifle barked from the hillside, and ho fell, shot through the left shoulder by a bullet intended 'for his heart. All this while the troops were helplessly camped at Hixon. They had power and inclination to go out nnd get men, but there was no man to get. The Hollmans had used the soldiers as far as they wUhed; they had mado thorn pull the chestnuts out of tho Are and Tamarack Spicer out of hiB stronghold. They now refused to swear out additional warrants. A detail hnd rushed Into Hollman’s store an instant after the shot which killed Tamarack was fired. Except for “Tam’rack, Ye’ve Got to Go." a woman buying a card of buttons and a fair-haired clerk waiting on her, they found the building empty. Back beyond, the hills were impene trable, and answered no questions. Old Spicer South would ten years ago have put a bandage on his wound and gone about his business, but now he tossed under his patchwork quilt, and Brother Spencer expressed grave doubts for Ills ' recovery. With hiB counsel unavailable Wile McCager, by common consent, assumed something like the powers of a regent and took upon himself the duties to which Sam son should have succeeded. That a .Hollman should have beon able to elude the pickets and penetrate the heart of South territory to Spicer South’s cabin was both astounding and alarming. The war was on without question now, and there must be coun cil. Wile McCager had sent out a sum mons for the family heads to meet that afternoon at his mill. It was Sat urday—“mill day”—and in accordance with ancient custom the lanes would bo more traveled than usual. Those men who came by .the wagon road afforded no unusual spectacle, for behind each saddle sagged a sack of grain. Tholr faces bore no stamp of unwonted excitement, but every man balanced a rifle across his pom mel. None the loss, their purposo was grim, and their talk when they had gathered was to the point. Old McCager, himself sorely, per plexed, voiced the sentiment that the others had been too courteous to ex press. With Spicer South bed-rlddon and Samson a renegade,. they had no adequate leader. McCager was a solid man of intrepid epurage and honesty, but grinding grist was his vocation, not strategy and tactics. The enemy- had such masters of intrigue as Purvy and Judge Hollman. Then a lean sorrel mare came jog ging into view, switching her fly-bitten tall, and on tho mare's back, urging him with a long, leafy BWitch, sat a woman. Behind her sagged tho two loaded ends of a corn sack. She was lithe and slim, and her violet oyes were profoundly serious, and her lips were as resolutely set as Joan of Arc’B might have been, for Sally Miller had come only ostensibly to havo her corn ground to meal. She had really come to speak for the absent chief, and sho knew that she would bo met with deri sion. The years had sobered the girl, but her beauty had increased, though it was now a chastened type, which gave her a strange and rather exalted refinement of expression. Wile McCager came to the mill door as she rodo up and lifted the sack from her horse. “Howdy, Sally?" ho greeted. "Tol’ablo, thank ye," said Sally. “I'm goln’ tor got oft.” As sho entered the great half-lighted room, where the mill stones croaked on their cumbersome shafts, the hum of discussion sank to silence. Tho girl nodded to the mountaineers gath ered in conclave, thon, turning to the miller, sho announced: "I'm going to send for Samson." The statement was at first met with dead sllenco, then came a rumblo of Indignant dissent, but for that the girl was prepared, as sho was prepared for the contemptuous laughter which followed. "I reckon if Samson wub here," sho said, dryly, “you all wouldn't think It was quite so tunny.” Old Caleb Wiley spat through his bristling beard, and hiB voice was a quavering rumble. “What wo wants is a man. We hain’t got no use fer no traitors thet’s too al mighty damn busy doin’ fancy work ter stand by their kith an’ kin." "That's a lie!” said the girl, »corn- fully, "There’s just ono man living that'B smart enough to match Josso Purvy—an’ that ono man is Sam son. Samson's got tho right to lbnd tho Souths, nnd he's going to do it—of ho wants to." . "Sally," Wile McCager Bpokc, sooth ingly, "don’t go feltttn’ nmd. Caleb talks hasty. Wo knows yo used tor bo Samson's gal, an' wo haln’t aimin' ter hurt yoro feelln's. But Samson’s done loft tho mountings. I reckon of ho wanted ter come back, ho’d a-come afore now. Lot him 'Stay wluir he’s nt." "Whnr is ho at?" demanded old Ca- lob Wiley, in a truculent voice. "That's his business,” Sally Unshed hack, "but I know. AH I want to toll you Is this. Don’t you mnko a move till I havo time to get word to him. I toll you, he's got to havo Ills say." I reckon wo hntn’t a-goln’ ter wait," sneorod Caleb, "for a follor thot won’t lot hit bo known whnr lie’s n-sojournln’ at. Ef ye air so shoro of him, why won’t yet toll ub wlmr ho Is now?" "That’s my business, too.” Sally’s voice was resolute. “I’vo got a lettor here—It'll take two days to got to Samson. It’ll take him two or throo days moro to get here. You’ve got to wait a week." “Sally,” the temporary chieftain spoke still in a patient, humoring sort of voice, as to a tempestuous child, "thar haln’t no place tor mall a letter nigber thon Hixon. No South can’t ride Inter Hixon, an’ rido out again. Tho mail carrier won’t bo down this way for two days yit." "I’m not askin’ any South to ride into Hixon. I recollect another tlmo whon Samson was tho only ono that would do that,”, sho answered, still scornfully. "I didn’t como here to ask favors, l como to glvo orders—for him. A train loaves soon in tho morn ing. My letter’s goln’ on that train.” “Who’s goln’ ter take hit ter town fer ye?" “I’m goln’ to take it for myself." Her reply was, given, ns a matter of course. “That wouldn’t hardly. bo safe, Sal ly,” tho miller demurred; "this haln’t no timo fer a gal tor bo gnlavantin’ around by horself in the night timo. Hit’s n-comln' up ter. storm, an’ yo’vo got thirty milos ter rido, an’ thirty-livo back tor yoro house." “I’m not scared,” sho replied. "I’m goln’ an 1 ' I’m warnin’ you now, If you do anything that Samson don’t llko, you’ll have to answer to him, when ho comes." She turned, walking very erect nnd dauntless to her sorrel mare, and disappeared at a gallop. I reckon," said Wile McCager, breaking silence at last, "lilt don’t make no great dlf’renco. He won’t hardly come, nohow.” Then, he added: But thet boy is smart." could touch tho others? Don’t you boo? I’ve only aeon It mysolf for a little while." * i , “What Is it that—that you soe now?" "I must go back, not to rolapBe, but to come to bo u constructive force. 1 must carry some of the outside world to Misery. I must take to them, be cause I am ono of thorn, gifts that they would reject from othor hands." Front tho house canto tho strains of an alluring waltz. For n ltttlo time tlioy listened without speech, thon the girl Bald vory gravely: "You won’t—you won’t, atilt feel bound; to .kill your enemies, will you, Samson?” Tho inan's faco hardened. "I believe I'd rather not talk about that. 1 shall havo to win book, tho confidence I lmvo lost. ,1 shall havo to take a place at tho head of m'y 'clan by proving mysolf a man—and a man by their own standards. It is only at thoir head that I can load thorn. It tho ltvos of a few assassins have to bo forfeited I shan't hosltato at that. I shall stake my own against thorn fairly. Tho end Is worth it.” The girl broathed deeply, then sho heard Samson's volco again: "Drennio, I want you to understand that if 1 succeed it Is your buccobs. You took mo raw and unfashlonod, and you have made me. There Is no way of thanking you." "There is n wny," sho contradicted. "You can tlmnk mo by feeling Just that way about it." "Then 1 do thank you." The next afternoon Adrlenno and SamBOii wore sitting with a gayly chat tering group at tho side linos of tho tennis courts. When you go back to tho mourn tains, SainsOn,” Wilfred was suggest ing, "wo might form a partnership, South, Horton & Co., Development of Coal and Timber.’ There are millions in it." Five years ago I should have mol you with a Winchester rifle." laughed the Kcntucklnn. "Now I shall not.” 'I’ll go with you, Horton, and mnko a sketch or two,” volunteered George Leseott, who had Just then arrived from tdwn. "And, by tho way, Sam son, hcro’B a lettor that came for you just as I loft tho studio." Tho mountaineer took tho envelope with a Hixon postmark, and for an instant gnzed at it with a puzzled ex pression. It was addressed in a foml nine hand, which ho did not recognize It was careful, but perfect, writing, such as one sees in n school copybook. With an apology ho tore tho covorlng and read tho letter. Adrlenno, glanc ing at his face, saw It suddenly palo and grow ns sot nnd hard aa marblo, Samson’s eyes wero dwelling with only partial comprehension on tho script. This is what ho rend: (TO BE CONTINUED.) Samson’s return from Europe, aftor n year'B study, was in tho nature of a modernte triumph. With tho art sponsorship of Georgo Leseott and tho social sponsorship of Adrienne, ho found that orders for portraits, from those who could pay munificently, seemed to seek him. He 'was tasting the novelty of being lionized. That summer Mrs. Leseott opened her houso on Long Island early, and tho life there was full of the sort of gayety that comes to pleasant places when young men in flannels and girls in soft summery gowns and tanned cheeks are playing wholesomely and singing tunefully and making love— not too seriously. Samson, tremendously busy theso days in a new studio of his own, had run over for a week. Horton was, of course, of the party, and George Les- cott was doing the honors as host. One evening Adrlenno left tho danc ers for'the pergola, whore she took refuge under a mass of honeysuckle Samson South followed her. She saw him coming, and smiled. She was contrasting this Snmson, loosely clad In flannels, with the Snmson sho. had first soon rising awkwardly to greet her in the studio. “You should have stayed Inside and made yourseir agreeable to tho girls," Adrienne reproved him, as ho came up. “What’s the use of making a Hon of you, if you won’t roar, for the vis itors?” “I’ve been roaring," laughed tho man. "I’ve just been explaining to Miss Willoughby that we only eat the people we kill in Kentucky on certain days of solemn observance and sacri fice. I wanted to bo agreeable to you Drennie, for a while. “Do you ever And yourself homesick, Samson, theso days?" The man answered with a short laugh. Thon his words came softly, and not his own words, but those of one more eloquent: " ’Who hath desired the sea? Her ex cellent Ionollncss rather Than the forecourts of kings, and her uttermost pits than the streets where men gathor. , . . His sea that his being fulfills? So and no otherwise—so and ho other wise hlllmen desire their bills.’,” "And yet,” she said, nnd a trace of the argumentative stolo into her voice, “you haven’t gone back.” "No.” There waa a note of self- reproach in his voice. “But soon I shall go. At least, for a timo. I’ve been thinking a great deal lately about ■my fluttered folk and wild.’ I’m Just beginning to understand my relation to them, nnd my duty." "Your duty is no moro "to go back- there and throw away your life,", she found horself instantly contending, "than it is tho duty of tho young eagle, who liaB learned to fly, to go back to the nest where ho was hatched." “But, Drennle," ho said, gently, "sup pose tho young eaglo is the only one that knows how to fly—and suppose he; TAKE DISEASE FROM WHITES Tuberculosis Among Alaskan. In dians Has Been Laid at the Door of the “Paleface.” Tho great prevalence Of all forms of tuberculosis among tho AlaBkan In dians, as proved by a report by Dr. Emil Kriillsh, is explained by the Journal of-tho American Medical Asso ciation ns follows: “Tuberculosis 1 is a comparatively new Infection among Indians, be stowed upon them by tho benevolent palcfaco along with drownter and cer tain othor blessings . of civilization. Among theso .'blessing!) must probably be counted scarlet fevor, measles, In fluenza, whooping cough and diphthe ria. Not -yot possessing tho racial im munity which it takes many genera tions to acquire, the poor Indian suf fers from them in greater degree than does tho white, and more frequently dies of them. Then there are the overcrowding and the unsanitary com ditfons prevailing in most of tho homes of tuberculosis sufferers; while at least tills much good arlBos from their misfortuno that after the disease Is well developed in them its progress (unless -they nro well , cared for) is rapid, and death removos what would otherwise remain a menacing focus of infection.” Tuberculosis was one of the chlei causes of the dying out of the In dians all over. North America. Two Famous Names. “Thomas Atkins” is a newcomer compared with “Jack Tar" of the senior service. “Jack Tar" as a nickname for a sailor Is first recorded in 1786, but BallorB wero known as "tars" for more than a hundred years before that. Tho name already appenrs In litoraturo in tho latter half of tho seventeenth cen tury. "Tar" may bo short for “tar- ■paulin." Sailors wore called “tarpau 11ns” early in tho seventeenth' century. Tarpaulin, of courso. Is canvas tarred to malto It waterproof, and the sailors' hat made of that material, something like a sou’-wester, was called n tar paulin. However that may bo, British sallorB have beon “honest tars," “Jollj tars” and “gallant tars" for 200 years. There Is moro Btcol and oil about a modern battleship than tarry rope, perhaps, but probably Juck will remain Jack Tar for another hundred year* yet.':—Manchester Guardian. Th® P<fJon QUffjd —solved once for all by Calumet. For dally uso in millions of kitchens. lias proved tlint Calumet is highest not only in quality but In leavening power as well—un failing in results—puro to tho extreme—nnd wonderfully cconomioal in uso. Ask your' grocer. And try Calumet next boko day. Received Highest Awards World’i Par. Food Eipoiltiol, Cblcuo, 111. Pori, Eipoii- , _ tloo, Frooco, /. Morel, IS 12. //fi Where..the. Life Is. ..Bacon—which Is the liveliest pro vince in Canada?” Egbort—Why, Ontario. "Why so?” "Because I read in the paper that there are 1,002 chcosc factories there." Undismayed. "I understand that bread Is going to cost six cents a loaf.” "Well,” said tho man who refuses to bo alarmed, "that's something to be thankful for. They qould just as easily havo mado It seven." . .. Really Reliable. r”: ' “Is your maid trustworthy?" . “Trustworthy? Why, L .even give har tho koy to tho braid box!" Cruel, Too. “I’m saddest whon I sing," "You're a durn fool to sing, then.”— Boston Evening Transcript. r<r A man's Inclination to give advice Is strong In inverse ratio to hlsf fit ness to give it.—Albany Journal. It Isn't always tho promising young man that fulfills tho pronilsc.—Dese ret News. First English Newspaper. Tho first newspapor printed in the English language, with Its old English typo and Its quaint account of event* In foreign countries, was a pamphlet Issued In 1621. Its title, “Corrnnt or Nevvcs from Italic, Germanic. France, and other places," Is as curious ns Its contents. For many years it lmd been supposed that no copy of the' Corrani was in existence, but recently a copj of this Interesting document was di* covered. ’ - A pessimist is a person who is dis appointed if the worst doesn’t hap pen,—Albany Journal. , - . i j A good listener is one who can pre tend to bo deoply Interested wheh he isn’t. llom-st, now, clkl you ever see any body take tho advice you offqrdd?— Memphis. Commercial Appeal. , ■ Tho small hours are responsible for many a large head.—Columbia State. A model wifo is one who isn't pat terned after a model. ; ■ Why don’t you take a' day bjf^ and got acquainted with yoursolf?^ ! j Tho pawnbroker acts ub timekeeper for men who fight hard luck. Your Undo Samuel spent ?s6ft,000.- 000 for jewelry last year. -. Evo-lnventcd temptation, but'.forgot to patent it.. . \
