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The Marked Man A ROMANCE OF THE GREAT LAKES s by Karl W. Detzer e THE STORY From his French-Canadian mother, Norman Erickson in herits a distaste for life on the water, which is beyond the un derstanding of his father, Gustat, veteran deep-water sailor, At Mrs. Erickson’s death Gustaf de termines to make Norman, who has been working for a grocer, his partner in his fishing boat, at once. In rebellious mood, Nor man seeks comfort from Julie Richaud, French-Canadian play mate of his school days. Gustaf, goimg to the aid of a drowning friend is crippled. After months, Gustaf is in a measure able to re sume his occupation. Ed. Baker, young fisherman, Norman’'s life long enemy, fans ill feeling be tween father and son, and Nor man determines to seek employ ment in the lighthouse service. Norman goes to Blind Man's Eye, Captain Stocking is in command, living with his daughter, Susan. While filling a lamp with kero sene Susan sets fire to her skirte, She is saved from serious injury by Norman, who is painfully in jured. On his day oftf duty Nor man visits Julie Richaud. From the lighthouse Norman sees a boat on the reefs, Making his way through the surf to the wreck, he is struck by the body of a dead dog. Gustaf Erickson had been fond of telling a ghast ly story of a sea disaster in which a dead dog figured, ani Norman, as a child, had listened to it in terror. The dog recalls the story and unnerves him, He abandons his idea of rescue, CHAPTER Vl—Continued ol YOOMO o v DIPTSR with you!” Parish cried. A wave pushed the surf-boat back toward the sand, the undertow dragged it lake ward. Every man was aboard except Norman and the captain. Parish leaned close and bellowed. “Your turn last . . . jump!” Norman bit his teeth together and made ready to obey. With wet smart ing eyes he saw the lean big-boned officer swing aboard. He reached for the gunwale. A torrential wave slapped against his face. He saw the black shadow of the lifeboat jerk away. : “Come!” the captain’s voice snapped back to him on the wind. Norman leaped forward with all the strength that was left in his legs. He heard Ed Baker cry: “Yaller-bellied pick’rel!” The assistant keeper waded out sav agely, while a cold roller spattered him with a power that chilled his gpine. Afraid? He afraid? He'd show them! Show Baker! Show old Gus taf! Baker was wrong this time! “they were all wrong, always had been wrong. He was going! His breath strangled in his throat. “Come!” the men were shouting. “Come!” He ducked his head and scrambled forward. The stern of the boat fioat ed three arm-lengths off. Norman sprawled after it Destiny iutervened. A roller, great er than all the others, heavier, angrier, ‘leaped out of the darkness. It fell savagely on the inan who was left, flung him backward far up the beach, trampled him into the gravel, and re treated satisfied. The cries of the laboring crew echoed hoarsely from the distraught lake. The lifeboat was making bhard progress against unwilling water, Nor man clawed upward to a shelf of sand. Winded, beaten, wet, impotent, he glared at the howling lake, Standing numb but secure on the gusty beach, the son ot Gustat Erickson watched the coast guard crew go out to its dangerous duty. Back in the hot, steamy signal bouse, Sue Stocking clanged the coal scoop against the boiler door, stuffed the firebos with fuel, and slapped the door shut vigorously. Squinting like ber father, she read the steam gauge. “rhat'll do,” she commented aloud, “] ean leave it ten minutes . . . | can go look!” Anxlously she splashed through the wash toward Steve Sutton’s fish dock. Bhe could see her father's lantern pow on the sand two bundred yards ahead; Q(uren. bending and struggling, passed Burriedly between her and its light. She realized that they were launching Steve's boat. She ran faster . . . she might get there In time to help push them oft. She was very angry, so angry that the blowing spray did not cool her face, She felt sure of Norman Erickson now. He had come in terri fled, sobbing of a dog. Her memory worked savagely. His own father, Ed Baker, Sutton, Parlsh, every man she knew except the keeper, had termed nim a coward. She herself had called him one the first night. Only once since then had he shown himself at all brave, two weeks ago that was, when she upset the kerosene. But It had been site then, not storm. Where was he now? Out with the coast guard? Going with Parish would redeem tim a little, but not entirely. He bad bawled at a dog. She saw the skiff put off. She was too late. Turning, she hurrled back toward the bollers. There lay the dog in the sand. Yes, a dead dog. Al ready half buried. | She panted on quickly., Where was that Norman? Her father yanked an oar out there in the blackness, in a skiff full of water. Well, if it did up set, it would float, and they could hang to the sides. Captain Samuel Stock ing could still swim very well, in spite of his rheumatics. Meanwhile Stocking and Steve Sut ton rowed doggedly., The wreck was rolling very little and lying on her port side. A small vessel. A yacht, a power yacht. The keeper bobbed forward and gripped her rail. He bellowed abruptly, a sailor's command in his voice. Aboard the other boat a man cried back. “Quick!” Stocking roared. “Get a move, quick!” A head poked over the side. Steve Sutton gripped the man’s shoulders, pulled and slid down suddenly with a big body sprawled across him. The skiff pitched. “Where's the rest?” Stocking cried. “I'm alone,” the man answered. “No crew?” the keeper shouted in his ear. “Just my dop. .. > “He’'s drownded!” Stocking yelled. “Lay still.” He released the rail of the capsized yacht. Sutton’s skiff wrenched loggily with its load of water and three men aboard. Twenty yards offshore a frothy wave fted the flat stern of the boat high in the air, throwing its bow under. The dory braced itselt for a mo ment, then drove its nose skittishly against bottom. It turned over with a graceless handspring antic. Captain Stockin~ threw up his arms and hit the water flat. Coolly, unexcitedly, he struck out, felt solid bottom under foot, and leaping again with the rol ers, he snatched the stranger’s collar and dragged Lim ashore. Steve Sutton ‘erawled up on his hands and knees, water running out of his mouth. Together they lifted the man, He was heavy. Between them they carried him to the lighthouse. Sue was waiting. Captain Stocking straightened the survivor out upon the parlor couch and poured water from his own boots. “Well, well,” he said, “we made it. Norman Erickson opened the outside door and stepped into the room. His clothes dripped with water, his nar row face was an ashy color. He looked ten years older. “Where've you been?” demanded Sue Stocking. “I got the coast guard.” “Why didn’t you go out with them?” Norman looked at her silently. Her coal-smudged face blazed with fury. He did not attempt to explain. Old Samuel Stocking turned to the sur vivor, ignoring Norman. “Well, how do yoa feel, shipmate? Pretty much squashed? Never mind the pillow. Leave me capsize you on your stomick. That's better.” The man spoke weak'z. “You saw my dog?” “Drownded, I tell ye. Erickson, go fetch some clothes, yours ought to ':“"'//'llt : dll i"“f g Ml st !(/::\ I'H\'lM"'.’.' ,14“';,0*)’ WG %h I“l WM i "‘”’M\ g (ol 20 s A "\\ eAN t'/’ > AW 2 A __.’ ~r2 - = e, \; ~g:__f; . | Ay 4)// ~=3 AR The Son of Gustaf Erickson Watched the Coast Guard Crew ‘Go Out to Its Dangerous Duty. fit. Sue, get some hot water, This man's teeth Is chattering. And fix up an extra cot on the assistant’s side o' the house. You mindin' the steam, Erickson? And, Sue, get me some dry socks.” Norman turned, just as the door wrenched open, Captain Parish strode in, his face hard and sharp as a plow share, “Got ‘em nshore, SBam’l? he asked “One? Nobody else?” “Nohody else,” Captain Stocking re plied. He added: “Sorry you was late, Joslah,” “Late? And why? ‘'Count of this skulkin', scart porcupine o' yours! A fine seaman! Livin' here at a self respectful lighthouse! | asks him to go witu me, told him A wos short handed. [ asks him, waits the boat for him, and he quit, didn’t get in!" “Quit?” repeated Captain Stocking. He put up his hand to his head be wilderingly. “Go stoke that fire, Erick son. Oh, come, Josiah, 1 guess he an'vauit v ‘ “He didn’t go!” cried Sue. Norman rushed from the room, his face smarting. Sue was partly right this time . . . partly right, He hadn’t gone with the boat. He had tried to go. He had fought the lake, and pitted himself against it and had lost. He had done all he could. It was the lake that balked him. It despised him as old Gustaf despised him, He plunged toward the beach. He had failed, falled before Sue, before Parish, failed before the crew. He had tried. But not hard enough. He had oot been quick enough. He had been clumsy. He was not used to life-hoats! They knew it! And he had sniveled again over that d—d captain’s dog! His oilskin caught in a rock and he fell, swearing,. He pulled off the slick er, his hands trembling with emotion, and flung it recklessly against the wind. He had finished' with this busi ness! He'd go inland tonight . . . he would live on a farm as Julie Richaud wanted. Chill wet wind cooled his bare head. The fog signal hooted weakly . . . two short, one long . . . it died out, needing steam. Norman rushed into the signal house and pommeled the firebox with coal. Here was a Job about his size, firing boilers! The door popped open and Captain Stocking groped into the room. His face flamed red under his thin wet hair, his eyes were blazing. “Erickson,” he challenged, “why didn't you go with Parish?” Norman clattered the scoop to the floor. “I tried!” “Tried? Why didn't you go, then? Was you scart?” Stocking spoke the word furiously, “Scart? And a drownin’ man needin’ help five hundred yards offshore!” He pointed a shaking finger. “I believe they was right about you, Erickson! Here 1 been holdin’ up your part all along. 1 sald you wasn’t scart, said you'd learn, be a good sea man and a credit to the light. I've told 'em all that! Teld Sue, told Bak er, told Parish! And now youplay an ape! Shame to ye!l” He finished in a long bellow, fists punching the air., Norman backed against the wall, An avalanche of thoughts swept through his head. He remembered his father. That briny, howling old sallor would never let another man talk to his face like this . « . he'd be as hard as ice, would Gustaf, colder than the very lake! He doubled his fists. Sure, held been slow, been clumsy, a shame to all the Er icksons! But nobody should tell him 80! “Don’t go hollering at me !" he yelled. “I'm npot in the coast guard! Nothing in regulations about knowin’ how to jump in a boat!” Captain Stocking spat. “Nothing in regulations to keep you from knowin’ how. Not a word! Par ish told you to hurry. Want to see men drown? What you know about regulations? What's regulations got to do with being a yaller, no-count scart coward? You best get out of this service, boy! You ain’t fit! Think it's a gal’s job, bein, keeper? Think you pnever need step in a boat? They's good men in this service. Erickuon, none other. You best get out!” “I'll get out when I'm put out.” Norman pounded the shovel on the floor. - “And while yau're at it, I'll do some talking, too,” he screamed. *“You weren't sure yourself Steve Sutton hadn’t seen a ghost! That'll look fine on puaper, won't it, a lot of talk about the Kitty K? Who was it first sight ed that gas boat? Sue, and then me! And you and Steve Sutton were here inside, sticking your heads under the coal pile!” He banged the shovel into the cor ner picked it up and flung it down agnin, “Comes to resigning from thls serv fce, comes to putting me out, I'll huve some talking to do,” he shouted. “You'll have a fine time getting rid of me, old man! I'll do sowme talking if there's talk to be done, and d—d to you!” Captaln Stocking llstened speech lessly. He scratched bis head. His assistant’'s rage had cooled his own. “No such disgraceful, brawly lan gunge In my signal house, Erickson. I'll stand for none ot It. What you're in need of, 1 mind, Is redemption. Re demption and a clout on the ear to learn ye respect. Get away from me. I need some decent atmosphere to think in. Get away! Go to the house!” Norman slammed the front door to the keeper's quarters and stamped down the corridor to his own room. He beard n man talking In the parlor and Sue Stocking's laugh. Norman recognized Baker's volce, Its bluster stiffened him, “His old man's daft,” the new mem. ber of Parlsh’s crew was saying, “but he's a right brave seaman !” Norman trod nolslly down the hall, He knew of whom Baker gabbled with such a superior alr. Of couree, old CHARLTON COUNTY HERALD Gustat was a right brave seaman!l Without lighting his lamp, he slid | out of his wet clothes and hunted ; dry ones. He rubbed himself down‘ with a towel. He had said plenty to old Samuel Stocking out there in the 1 signal house! But not too much. Drive him out of the service, eh? He heard Suve Stocking call him: “Erickson !” “Yes !” “Will you come out here a minute?” “What do you want of me?” “I? 1 don’t want you! Goodness knows 1 never want to look at yon again. It's the man Delong.” : Norman stumbled Into his shoes in the dark of his room. Of course, she didn't want him. Lord knew she'd shown more spunk tonight than he had. “I'll be out,” he answered, He dressed slowly. Delong. He knew the name, It was a city fellow called Delong who bought the old Swallow place up Tamarack river way a few years ago, after the Swallows, father, son, aye, even grandfather, had spent half their lives draining the swamp. This Delong . . . not this Delong prooably, but some one by that name . . . came in with a sack of money and bought it. Paid cash, built a dam atross the river, and backed up the water to form a lake. A gentleman farmer, He strode into the Stocking parlor. The man. lay on the couch. Norman recognized his own brown sweater around his shoulders, his own blue flannel shirt showing underneath it. “What you want of me?” he asked the stranger abruptly. The man looked up with a grave face. He was a tail heavy individual with red hair, The brown work trou sers that he wore were Norman’s too; he had rolled them part way up from ~one long leg and was steaming his ankle in hot water, Sue stood near by with an empty pitcher and an armful ~of white cloth, - “This is Mr. Erickson, the assist ant keeper,” Sue Stocking explained indifferently. “Him as wouldn’t go,” added Ed ward Baker. | The stranger coughed. There was a certain warm friendliness in his eyes. He put out his right hand and Nor man took it. The act reassured him a little, The stranger’s hands were large, but soft, as if he never had worked out-of-doors with them. He was not old; under forty. “Did you happen to find anything on the beach tonight?” he asked. Norman hesitated. The man’s voice was aggressive. But it also was friend ly. Norman liked it at once. “Yes, sir, 1 did find something.” “What?" Delong braced himself up on one elbow, “What did you find?” “A dead dog,” Norman said. I found a dead dog, Mr. Delong. Drowned.” The stranger nodded. “He was a good dog,” he answered ~mildly. ! ¢ Norman started. He felt blood rush to his cheeks. Those were his father’s words! “A good dog!” He stood up straight, aware that Sutton and Baker were grinning at him, 2 g “He looked it, sir. It upset me, see ing him, If it hadn’t been for that dog I'd bave been all right.” “You dldn’t find a pack, an oll skin pack?” Delong inquired. “] didn’t,” Norman replied stiffly, “all 1 found was the dog.” Baker laughed. “I best get out on the job again,” he said easily. “Capt’n put me on watch down there by the wreck. I'll let you know, mister, if anything comes ashore.” “You will keep your eye open?” the stranger asked. WEare. . . Norman strode through the door and across the sand to the signal house. Captain Stocking stood bare headed on the path. peering north at the weather, “Clearing up?” Norman shouted. “Yes, Let the steam go down, Turn off the automatic.” The keeper had softened his anger, but his tone still was chilly. He left Norman on the wr'™ and trucged heavily into the house, It was two by the clock in the signal ghanty, Norman turned off the mech anism that controlled the steam whistle and stepped back out-of doors. It was lonely on the beach, but just now he craved loneliness. He needed to think over this whole catastrophe. But what was there to think over? He could expect nothing here on the point except scorn. He had proved himself a coward In the eyes of keeper and coast guard crew, Belng a coward was unforgivable, He could never make Sue Stocking un derstand about the schooner Gottland and the captain’s dog. Royal Splendor That Once Dazzled Europe Burope was dazzled by a display ot royal pomp unequaled in the history of pageantry, when Henry VIII met Francls 1 of France on the: Field of the Cloth of Gold, For his entertalnment a temporary palace was bullt at Guines, near Onl als, covering three acres, No fewer than 2,800 tents stood around It to house the knights and ladies of his re splendent train, Their chapel had 85 priests to gerve it and for the 20-odd days they were In France 2,200 sheep went to form one item of their menu. There is o plcture in Hampton court which will give you some ldea of the splendor of the day. It shows the Great Harry, that glant ship, with her salls of damasked cloth of gold and four royol standards flying from her fo'c'sle, railing out of Dover harbor, Other ships, bearing Yeomen of the Guard, drummers, fifers and banmer begrers, are making ready to follow, aud the water Is thronged with swall Julie? Lord, had It been only that afternoon he smelled the soil of the Richaud farm back in the hills? He believed Julie would comprehend what had happened to him ~ . . but he couldn't agree to farm, He couldn’t leave the light, After what old Samuel Stocking had threatened? Well, what could he do? Neither land nor lake wanted him, A wave of nostalgia overwhelmed him, a passion likee homesickness for a place he never had seen, He arose with stiff legs after an hour, and facing into the wind, climbed over the sand hummock to the beach. There was a hint of day. Out upon Blind Man's Teeth the cap sized yacht made a gray and black patch, with white breakers stretching vy ,//// ,/"//}é/t‘fli /’ (/‘ | // 1’ i e Allom LR SO A LR BN A T ‘l."‘,‘j;' A “”‘\““/‘ () b Ll i . \\l‘w ‘:fi’:; 1 - llf \ ’ ‘ %\a‘; AN R 1R < AH ¢ v \ 6,\,‘ '/,' ,ql”"l"‘,‘ ; \ 3 et W \- SRS S N\ A WA v AN B WEYe N X v-\fwM' N\ | ',j/,'f {»,.. Why Was Baker Digging in the Sand With His Hands? ~ high arms above it. On the shore, not a hundred paces off, an electric flashlight shone for a gusty second. It was Ed Baker, no doubt, on watch by the wreck, Norman stood motion less. The surfman approached. It was Baker all right; light from the tower gleamed in streaks on his wet sag ging oilskins. Ten feet off he halted and knelt down oveside a drift log. Norman held his breath. Why was Baker digging in the sand with his hands? The surfman stood up and walked swiftly back to his post. Norman shook his cold legs. ‘And what was this new business? Something gqueer. Another light, a lantern this time, moved along the wash beyond Keeper Stocking's qu2iters. Baker waved bis own flash toward it. “Oh, Shay!” he hallooed. “Three-thirty,” the relief man called. The two guards talked quletly for a moment. Then Ed Baker started back toward the coast guard station, Norman waited five minutes before he stepped out of the brush, He crossed swiftl? to the log where Baker had knelt, and searched with his fingers in the sand. In half u minute he touched a wet object, too soft for wood. He clea.ed away the sand and with drew an oblong packet., It measured a fair ten in nes in length, half that in width, and bulged thick, It was bound with soggy cord. Norman thrust it into a )jocket of his coat. For a second time In his life he had discovered Baker In an act of thievery., And both times he bad stood by silent.;, As a boy Le had taken his beating and said nothing, It had been pride kept him from telling that other time, pride und a rldiculous juvenile fear of what Baker might say. He need have no fear of Baker aow. Only a loathing for him. Baker who played the hero and who was only a common thief! What would Sue Stocking say? And Captain Samuel? And Parish? It came to him swiftly that it did not matter what they might say. For he could not tell them, He had no witnesses, Baker would claim that he lled, and he believed undoubtedly, But the stranger must have his package. Should he glve it to him and let Baker know thereby that he had seen him bury it In the sand? Baker would smart under that treat ment; it would be torture to him to know that Norman knew, He kicked the sand out of his boots and tramped back to the house, (TO BE CONTINUED.) boats full of spectators, rne of whom is graphically represented In the act of being seasick, The diplomatic vesults of this mag: nificent display of wealth and power, it 1» sad to rend, were as near nothing ny doesn't matter, Foot Index of Character It Is astonlshing how much may be Interpreted of human character from the foot, says Nathan Hack of Hack's boot shop. Modern detectives, Hack clulms, relying on this hypothesis, can guess from the footprint the size and welght of the man to whom it belongs. They can go further and speculate a 8 to the strength of the man, and as to lttle pecullarities regarding his physieal makeup, The Indians knew this, as did the most anclent of peo ples, Hack sald.—Boston Herald, Susplclon Is exeellent; but it oughi to seek verification, o ! l ( s \ S ¥ SRR AR S | di R R e v N ol N AT ¢ R R R e R Da iy et i R R SRR o SR b 0 G R G AN g R R R .8 #@&\\W‘\o B R B ,x' 3 -‘f. T S G N s R SN T B e - When zo Children Cry There is hardly a household that hasn't heard of Castoria! At least five million homes are never without it. If there are children in your family, there's almost dally need of its com fort. And any night may find you very thankful there’s a bottle in the house. Just a few drops, and that colic or constipation 1 relieved; or diarrhea checked, A vegetable product; a baby remedy meant for young folks, Castorla is about the only thing you have ever heard doctors advise giving to infants, Stronger medicines are dangerous to a tiny baby, however harmless they may be to grown-ups. Good old Castorial Remember the name, and remember to buy it. It may spare you a sleep less, anxious night, It is always ready, always safe to use; in emergencies, or for everyday ailments, Any hour of they day or night that Baby becomes fret ful, or restless. Castoria was never more popular with mothers than it is today. Every drugglst has it, CASTORIA Senators, Attention! First Suburbanite—We are getting up a league of nations in our suburb. Have you heard about it? Second Suburbanite—No; what is it, a straw vote? First Suburbanite—No, it's an agree ment between those who are planning a garden this year and those who are planning to keep chickens, Have Kidnea»s ‘ Examined By Your Doctor Teke Salts to Wash Kidneys lif Back Pains You or Bladder Bothers Flush your kidneys by drinking a quart of water each day, also take salts occasionally, says a noted au thority, who tells us that too much rich food forms acids which almost paralyze the kidneys in their efforts to expel 1t from the blood. They be come sluggish and weaken; then you may suffer with a dull misery in the kidney region, sharp pains in the back or sick headache, dizziness, your stomach sours, tongue is coated, and when the weather is bad you have rheumatic twinges. The urine gets cloudy, full of sediment, the channels often get sore and irritated, obliging you to seek rellef two or three times during the night, To help neutralize these irritating aclds, to help cleanse the kidneys and flush off the body’s urinous waste, get four ounces of Jad Salts from any pharmacy here; take a tablespoonful in a glass of water before breakfast for a few days, and your kidneys may then act fine. This famous .salts is made from the acld of grapes and lemon julce, combined with lithia, and has been used for years to help flush and stimulate sluggish kidneys; also to neutralize the aclds in the system #0 they no longer irritate, thus often relieving bladder weakness, » Jad Salts is inexpensive, cannot in- Jure and makes a delightful efferves cent lithia-water drink, Iceland to Have Railroad There are no railroads in Iceland, Recently, however, a Norweglan com pany contracted to bulld a rallroad from Reyk)avik, the eapital, to Tho- Jorsan, a distance of 50 miles. Con struction 1s to begin May 1, 1020, “Getting even” 18 too much lke stumbling Into your own steel trap. Help is Offered and is freely given to every mrvulu)l. d;;iatc woman, r. Pierce. Writ cb{)r. Pierce's Clinie in Buffalo,N.Y., for confidential medi cal advice. No charge for this service, Ob t':i:: Dr, Picrcg'nui'rg& ption now, in liqui or tablets, from your druggist or send 10c to Dr, Pierce at above address, for trial package of tablets, One woman writes : “1 was all but down and out with feminine trouble, which caused me to sulfer with a vere palms ln my side. [ was pervous, weak, suffered frem backaches and was 80 com pletely rundown in health that I was hardly able to de anything, and thiee bottles of D Pleree's Pavorite Prescription made me so well and strong that I have never suffered fron: this canse since."~Mm, Bells Allen, 903 W Pleasant st, Guinesville, Fla, Have you ever tried Dr, Pierce’s Pellets for the stomach and bowels?