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The Mistakes of Jennie By HAL CQF ™A_
Reing a Senes of Chapters in the Life of a Southern Girl tn the Big City
The widow of Cesare hurled a jagged, heavy stone full in the
woman’s face.
Mi.
i,.
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE
The story opens with Rives, who Is In charge of the technical work
ings of the gheat tunnel from America to Ger'i.nny, on on.; of the tunnel
trains, wkh Baermann, an engineer. in charge <*f Main Station No 4. They
art- traveling at the rate of li# miles an hour. Hives is in love with
Maude Allan, wife of Mackendriok Allan, whofe* rnirnl first conceived the
g.cat tunnel scheme After going about 2f>0 iniu s under the Atlantic ocean
Rives q. ts out of the train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to hurst. There
is u frightful explosion. Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded
He stagger** through the h.aiding smoke, ((-aliasing that about .'1,000 men
have probably perished He and other survivors get to Station No. 4
Rives finds Haermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want
to climb on a work train, somebody shoots Haermann, and the train slides out.
The scene is then changed to the roof of tin; Hotel Atlantic. The greatest
financiers of the country are gathered there at a summons from C. II.
l.loyd. “The Money King'' John Rives addresses them, and Introduces Al
lan. Mrs Allan and -Maude Lloyd, (laughter of the financier, are also pres
ent. Allan tells the company of his project for a tunnel .'1 100 miles long.
The financiers agree to back him. Alim and Rives \s. m t him to take charge
of the actual work. Hives accepts. Rives K oes to the Rank Club to meet Wlt-
tersteiner. a financier At Columbus Cl cle news of Uu- greet project Is being
Hashed on a screen. Thousands are watching it. Mrs Allan incomes a lonely
and neglected woman and is much thrown In the company of Rives. Sydney
Wolf. the money power of two contin* ts. plots again.-1 Allan and Rives. Mrs.
Allan has her suspicions aroused as to the, fru rdssMv between her husband
and Ethel l.loyd Rives and Mrs. Allan let the wine of love get to their
heads and. before they know it. they confess their love for each other. 'I’un-
nel City’s Inhabitants learn something tms gone wrong in the lower workings
4 f the great bore. An explosion and fire have occurred In the tunnel, and
when the workers hear of it definitely they become a raging mob. surging
about the entrance the bore. Mrs Allan Is warned not t leave her home
while the excitement Is at its height. Biu she and her child go forth.
Now Go On With the Story.
(Fr<"n th* Oerm»B ri Ilernhiod KHlennann—
ISfT’run t r‘f inn Copyrighted. tyiR. by *•
Fis’rtif. Veil ft t. Berhn. English translation and
(coming toward them was a swirl
ing wave of men and women that I
filled the stieet from house to house.
It rolled toward them with frightful
rapidity, and the din of it was terri
fying. Maud drew Edith to her and
hx*ked for a doorway in which she
might stand until the horde had swept
by. She was frightened, for she un
derstood that the rage which a short
time before had filled her boftnm had
taken this form with these dull and
br it*eh people. She felt no fear for
herself. They knew her as a bene*
1 . tress ar.d a friend of unwearying
I itr.triess; biR she feared that they
Height terrify Edith, and knew th y
would be sorry the next day for any
damage they did.
iJut there was no friendly doorvva.
at hand. She. was at that moment
parsing along a long, high wall that
c ut off the wagon yard of a great de-
p-irfmem store. She drew back
against it and held Edith close, think
ing she would try to stop ootne of the
women and reason with them when
they t ame past.
Suddenly the roar rose into a shriek
fury, and the rush swept on with
new speed. Maud thought she could
hear the name “Allan** as the key
note. and a cold dread gripped her
heart. Was it possible that they
would try to hurt her?
The next instant they were upon
her She crouched against the wall,
but faced them. The din almost made
her blind and dizzy, and ohe was
ringed a? with a kaleidoscopic film of
horrible, distorted faces that grim
aced and glowered and slavered and
twisted with horrible laughter. She
opened her lips and tried to speak
Edith was half-hidden in the folds of
her skirt.
; Friends! Friends!” she cried, but
the words were pushed back into her
mouth by the terrific uproar. The
neyi instant the widow of Sesare, her
h»ir hanging in limp strings, her eyes
^rr.ing with the light of insane rage,
flothes half torn 'rom her body,
ig out in frc&nt of her and huricd
ged heavy stone full irVthe worn-
"face.
i
Maud staggered back and would
have fallen, but the wall held her up,
at the same instant another stone,
meant for her, struck the child in the
chest and knocked her down.
Then came another and another and
another.
• * • •
The Rescue.
I -M-HKI, I.LOYD nut Allan In tin
pntvh of his home that nlfchl
He had been prepared b> tele
phone when he reached New York
Without u word she •'hook his hand
and pressed it. He questioned her
without words, and in the same way
she answered; then she led him
through the silent house to the room
where his wife and child lay. Sin
stood with him for a moment, look-
ink down upon them, and then as si
lently withdrew.
For a long time there was no
sound save the steady beat of slow
footsteps, as a sentry paced the walk
outside; for Tunnel Oit.v was under
martial law. The horse was gone
and the stable was locked. ^
The girl sat in the shaded veranda
and looked out across the ocean,
when* Maud and Hives had sat but
twenty-four hours before. She \\.*s
not of the weeping type of woman,
l»ut her Ups were sealed and in r
heart weighed with the dead load of
th< grief ib< at h.-r Lov.. as Maud
knew it —had known In the last few
hours of her life was- unknown to
her. If she loved Allan in that way
she was not conscious of it. Slit
was only conscious of a profound ad
miration for him and a strong at
traction for his energy, his strength.
hK genius. She knew that his v\ ife
and chiid were dear to him, and she
sulTeted with him—and, like him, in
silence.
Presently she heard his stopTn the
hall. She rose, but did not go to meet
him. He came out. without a glance
to the right or left, crossed the
veranda, down the steps and strode
off toward the beach. He had not
set n her nor looked for her.
About a mile up the beach tie
stopped and sat down in the sand,
staring out to sea. For nearly i.n
hour he sat there. Occasionally in-
turned his head and looked hat k in
the way he had come, as if the pic
ture of the darkened room and the two
pale faces was before ills eyes. Then
h* stared out to sea again. Some
where out there far beneath ih ■ Wa
ters. was his one friend-, Ki\*e«. I)<-
eould ste him. too—his knees drawn
up. his mouth open and twisted and
his fate blackened. What was left
him?
From afar catene the 'answer—the
subdued murnuiV of Tunnel Cdy. He
gilt ted his teeth and groan'd and
'round his heels in the sand. As
Maud had done before, he now cursed
it and all \\ho wrought In Its name
It was a rage of despair, but it was
meceedt'd by another—a rage « f pur
pose The tunnel had taken from him
everything dear in life.
His wife and child were destroyed.
His one friend was gone. The best
part of his life had been given to it.
More than f),000 other lives had been
.‘•wallowed up in its hungry mouth—
and still it was unconquered, less
than half completed. It vvas still his
master and not his servant.
Nothing to Lose.
Now he had nothing to lose. The
gray hairs at his temples were almost
white, but he would live long enough
to conquer. He would live for that
only. He would put grief and re
morse to one side. He would guard
his life for that one purpose—that
those who had died might not have
died in vain. The tunnel should live
as a monument to till of them.
He rose and stretched his cramped
legs with a shiver. The thought came
to him with a suddenness that almost
made him cry out that he might
atone, somewhat, that very night.
There might he still some men alive
in that hell. He might find a balm
for his own grief In healing the griefs
of others.
He w alked swiftly back to the house.
Ethel Lloyd was still waiting on the
veranda. In a few low words he told
what he intended doing, and she soft
ly applauded. She would look out for
everything at the house and do all
that she could. He sprang into his
'car and told the chauffeur to drive
to the administration building.
Ceremony had never been the habit
of the administration building, but
when Allan entered the consultation
room, w here t lie general conferences
of the engineer? were held, every man
in the room rose. Allan believed that
he was calm, for he was in the numb
ed condition that follows a sudden
blow. He was certain that he looked
Calm, and for a moment he was sur
prised when Harriman half-walked,
half-reeled a stej5 or two toward him,
and exclaimed, in choked voice;
“Allan!”
Allan silenced him with a gesture.
“Now, now, Harriman.” he said,
quietly. “Take your seats, gentle
men.**
Mechanically they obeyed and sat
stating at him. His face was rigid,
as if frozen, his lips blue and white
at the edges. A young man who sat
next him noticed that the skin be
neath the eyes was twitching nervous
ly. A two days’ growth of beard ac
centuated his livid pallor. The eyes
shone, but it was with the cold glit
ter of glass.
Tlie Story.
They rested on Harriman. who con
trolled himself with a visible effort
and began giving the details of the
disaster in short, broken phrases. Al-
I lan listened without comment and
without expression.
“There is no doubt that Haermann
was shot?” he asked when Harriman
paused.
“Yes.”
“And Rives has not been heard
from ?”
“No. The last that we have been
able to learn is that he was seen
leaving Main Station on a construc
tion train, going to the head of the
boring.” i
Allan nodded. “Go 'on,” he said,
grimly.
“So far as actual damage goes we
know the tunnel is till right almost
up to Station 4, but we can’t be sure
beyond the 220-mile mark because
there was a lot of temporary timber
still stuck around there in places.,
Robinson has reported ihat he got as
far as the 230th mile, but the smoke
was awful and ho couldn’t tell about
the fire. He has picked up 150 men
that were m yood as gone.”
"That ,f8 />s how many dead?”
Harr.mLfl moistened his white lips
and t-assed the bar* of his hand
across his forehead. ♦
“According to the control checks,”
he answered, in a husky, halting voice,
“there must be about twenty-nine
hundred.”
There was a dead silence. Every
man in the room had known for hours
that the official figures must inevita
bly reach that number, but it was a
terrible thing to hear them spoken.
Allan reached a hand that trembled
slightly for a cup of coffee that had
been placed on a table at his elbow,
and took a sip. Every man in the
room avoided his neighbor’s eyes.
"Allan ” Harriman’s voice broke
again. His chief stored at him un
moved.
“(ro on,” he said, coldly.
The older man shuddered and pull
ed himself together.
“(/’Malley is at Substation D2—220
miles he went on. . "According
to Robinson, O’M&lloy is certain that
;«n air pump Is working farther down,
although tho telephone connection is
broken."
For the first time a gleam of inter
est came into Allan's eyes and a faint
touch of color to his cheeks. “Rives!”
he thought, with a sudden wild hope.
If there was one man in that hell who
had the nerve and resourcefulness to
keep an air pump working it would
be Rives
Harriman went on with his report.
He was no longer, apparently, over
come with horror, but there was a
new' uneasiness in his manner which
Allan noted and was quick to under
stand. Whatever might be said in ex
tenuation, Harriman knew, and knew
that his chief would know, that he
had not distinguished himself as a
commander above ground in the ter
rible crisis. When he came to the
riot. Allan’s voice cut in coldly and
sharply.
The Coward.
“Where were you, Harriman?:*
The other man threw out an un
steady hand in a gesture of protest,
lips quivered.
His
“1 tan only ask you to. believe- that
1 did everything that was humanly
possible.”
Allan leaned forward in his chair
and made no effort to conceal his con
tempt.
"Anybody can do what’s ‘humanly
possible.’ but this tunnel is not be>ng
built on excuses, Harriman. This was
a situation that demanded someth ng
more than the ‘humanly possible.’”
The older man went very white.
The others looked gravely at the
floor.
"What could I do that I didn't do?”
he demanded between his set teeth.
"I don’t know—I wasn’t there” ~e-
*urned his .-chief, coldly, “it’s beer.use
I thought you would know that I left
you in charge.”
Harriman twice opened his lips and
closed them dumbly.
“It Seems to me that you’ve fallen
down mainly in what you did." went
on Allan, mercilessly. “For one thing,
vou ran away from the mob. It would
have been jjSd d sight better if
you’d stayed away. You stood for
authority here, and you ought to have
been killed rather than turn this place
over to a mob.”
Again Harriman opened his lips,
but he did not speak. Ho knew that
he had not run because he was afraid,
but what was the* use? Excuses
couldn’t help.
“On the whole.” Allan was saying.
1n the same brutally calm tone
“Baermann. so far as I can see. is
more useful Head than you are aliv
Your authority here Is done. You
can never command the respect of
these people again.”
The older man rose unsteadily to
his feet and his muscles suddenly set.
He took a half step forward and one
of the younger men rose and laid his
hand on hi? arm. The others still
kept their eyes on the floor. Allan
never took his gaze off his lieutenant’s
face, and the cOld, contemptuous ex
pression never eh jpged. Harriman’s
figure suddenly relaxed and he swayed
slightly.
"You mean ” he began in a
voice that was barely audible, though
the stillness of the tomb was on the
room
“I mean.” said Allan, “that you are
excused from duty I’ll see you again
in a day or two. Good-night. Harri-
ma n.”
Without a word. Harriman turned
and reeled out of the door. He was
barely gone before Allan turned to
two of the young engineers who had
left their posts and come in with the
men when the panic spread through
the workings.
"You can go—you two,” he said.
“Any college can give 500 engineers In
a year, but It takes men to drive a
tunnel under the ocean. You two had
better stick to plain engineering here
after.”
Kis Speech.
There was a littV, silence after that.
Allan sat staring at the floor. Final
ly he threw’ back his head. The dead,
lifeless look was gone from his eyes
and the bitterness from his voice. In
a low voice he talked for ten minutes
to these men who had done their best,
and when he had finished any one of
them w'ould have died for him. ,
“It’s the first nasty smash we’ve .
had.” he said in conclusion, “but It
won't be the last. I thought I had i
picked my men well, and making only j
three mistakes in a body this size ;
isn’t so bad. I know you men are the
best In the world, and it’* only the
best that can handle this work. Now,
if any of you have any complaint
against the general management, if
you think you’re not treated right,
financially or otherwise, let me hear i
it now f and I will guarantee that no
man leaves this room dissatisfied, j
EVery man who works for this tun- !
nel has got to face death or anything
else that comes along. I can’t helo
that—It’s In the nature of the work.
Rut there ought to be honor enough
to go around, and I know there’.-
money enough. Nobody anything to
say? Then, as an evidence of good j
faith. I’ll order 10 per cent increase |
on the executive payroll and—I’ll ask i
you to shake hands and we’ll start in j
again. Saunders, you will take Har
riman s desk. Lefevre, you move up
to Saunders’ place—and it’ll keep vou
moving to make us forget that Saun
ders isn’t there. Now, I'm off.”
‘Shall I go with you, Macs as the
new chief of staff?”
“No, you stay here and take com
mand. Lefevre, you come along.’’
••Where ” began Saunders and
stopped.
Mac looked at him a moment.
“Into the tunnel. Come along Le
fevre.”
Twenty minutes later a train that
Allan had ordered assembled before
he.went into the conference was flv-
ing flown the grade to the entrance
of the tubes. It was made of only
two coaches ;tnd a locomotive. In the
coaches wore a few picked engineers
and nil the doctors that had beet,
gathered that day that could he
spared from the hospital, with nu
merous.) bags an( ) b 0XPS of "first aid”
S'.ipplios. Allan stood at the control
ler. driving the engine, and Lefevre
stood beside him. The dispatchers
assured him that track No. 2 was
clear for 150 miles, and would hold
Robinson’s train at that point for
him, as they could guarantee on the
one track—No. 3—from that point on
To make double sure he had talked
to Robinson on the telephone before
mounting the cab, and had also asked
for word of Rives. There was none;
but he Clung to that one slender hope
—an air pump was working farther
down. He threw on the full current,
and the great engine leaped ahead
almost into the glare of its own
searchlight, quivering and swayin':
v. bile a heavy monorail beneath
boomed and purred under the heavy
•vii’rr'ng wheels'. Minute after min-
ute they hurtled through the inter
minable tube, broken onlv bv a flash
ing glimpse of station, a higher key
in the roaring song, and then the
long shining perspective and deep
steady hum once more. Allan never
spoke or turned his head. He stood
like a statue with onc^and on the
air lever and the other on the con
troller but neither hand moved.
The Ride Over.
At last the brake signal for the
150th mile station flashed out ahead
of them. Lefevre glanced inquiringly
at him and then the right band moved
slightly. The power was reduced.
The brakes began to squeak at inter
val?. The mad ride was over.
Lefevre glanced at his watch. An
exclamation broke from his lips and
he looked quickly at the little clock-
above the air gauge. Then without a
word he held up his watch before Al
lan’s £.ves. Allan nodded grimlv and
brought the train ahrieklng In the
grip of the brake in the station.
Thev had covered the 150 miles in
61 minutes!
For the past .30 miles the smoke
had been perceptible, as It was grow
ing thicker the farther they went
Robinson’s train had not yet arrived,
but thev had onlv a few minutest to
wait. The coaches of the train were
crowded and there were curses and
ominous mutterings when the men
sajv Allan’si face in the murky light
as he briefly questioned the Indomit
able Robinson. Rut there was not
time tor any outbreak. Allan switched
his train over onto the track th"
outgoing one / bad left clear and drove
on Into the gatherirg smoke. *
Rut now their progress was slow
er. In another twenty miles their
headlight was practically useless, for i
it only ’evealed billows and eddying!
clouds of smoke that rolled and turn- ;
bled in their path. They stopped at |
every sub-station, and in every one j
they found the engineer in charge!
still on his job. with as many men as |
he had been able to save. They had j
can iked up all the cracks, and had '
their oxygen machines working. At j
each one a doctor or two dropped off
with plenty of supplies and set to
work on those that needed help.
Finally the engine groped its way
into the sub-station at the 220th mile,
where the faithful O’Malley was still
making good air out of bad as calmly
as if he had not known that unless
the outside ventilating plant began
shouldering more of the work there
was only death ahead for him and
his men in a few hours.
He was only a boy of 27, but he
shook hands calmly with his chief and
wiped the sweat out of his eyes with
his free hand.
&
)\
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I: ! '..‘.lit HU " I
H«iiiiiun
■in i'
CHAPTER XXVII.
A FTER Jennie met the polite young man.in the
yachting suit, as she was coming from the
grocery store with her bundles, he walked
home with her to the little cottage Tom had hired
for her and her mother.
They stopped on the front porch talking awhile
and the young man insisting that lie really MUST
see her again, and "couldn’t he call to-morrow7”
Jennie told him no, hut that she would meet him
at a certain place the next day.
When Jennie came in the hou*e her mother ask
ed her who she was talking to on the front porch.
Jennie tried at first to evade her mother’s ques
tions, but finally admitted it was a young man she
met down near tlie store.
This her mother said was very wrong, after Tom
V
hart been so good to them and then have Jennie
flirt with other fellows.
Jennie said she wasn’t flirting, and probably
would never see him again, but under her breath
she muttered that she WOULD—and besides,
wasn’t he just as handsome as could be. and not
only that, but he owned a yacht and wanted Jen
nie to go out sailing with him.
The next day, after making an excuse to her
mother that she was going somewhere else, she
went to meet the young man.
The first thing lie’ suggested was that they go to
the restaurant for a bite to eat and then go out
aboard his yacht.
Jennie was not hungry, so the young man said,
“Ail right, let’s get a drink, anyway, for I need one
badiy this morning.”
—UAL COFF3IAN.
(To Be Continued.)
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
WHAT IS THEIR REASON?
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I am twenty-one and engaged
to a young man the same age. At
first my folks consented to him,
now they object. He offered to
break the engagement, although
he loves me dearly. I am so dis-t
couraged and don’t know what to
do. If we parted, it would break
my heart, as 1 have known him
four years. HEARTBROKEN.
Your parents, after sanctioning
your friendship for four years, and
approved of your engagement, owe you
some reason for this sudden change
of heart.
Insist on having it, and treat their
objection with respect. Don’t lose
your temper, and don’t harbor the
notion that they don’t love you. I
am sure if you get together in a sane,
sensible fashion, their objections may
be overcome.
RESPECT MOTHER’S WISHES.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am eighteen years old. and
recently I met a man at a dance
who I think cares for me very
much. My mother objected to my
going with him without giving
me her reason.
Kindly advise me what to do,
as I do love him very much.
B. L. K.
I believe your mother makes a
mistake in not telling you her ob
jections, but thisi will not excuse you
for not heeding them, nor make them
less reasonable.
Do just as she says. Trust her. No
girl ever made a mistake by trusting
her mother.
LET IT BE “NO.”
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a young lady of sixteen
and keeping company with a
young man of eighteen for one
year. This young man has asked
me to marry him, but I would like
for him to change his position.
He promised me he would in the
spring. Kindly let me know if I
shall give any decided answer.
ANXIOUS.
You are sixteen and can well afford
to wait. You do not state what the
man’s position is, so my advice is
based solely on your years. I want
love to come to you, but, believe me,
my dear, it will be all th e sweeter
if your judgment is more mature.
CERTAINLY NOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a young man nineteen
years of age, and in love with a
girl three years my junior. She
wants me to elope with her, and
as I am earning eleven dollars a
week, do you think I can support
a wife? R. S. Jr.
You are only a boy, too young to
marry if you had the financial
means, and marriage on eleven dollars
a week is suicidal.
I am sure the girl is impulsive and
thoughtless, and if you refuse to
elope with her she will some day be
grateful to you for it. You must
protect her from her own impulsive
ness.
Good News.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m certain that an !
air pump is working farther down. ■
Mr. Allan.’’ as coolly as If he were
discussing the character of the stone |
at the end of the boring.
Allan wanted to hear no reasons.
O’Malley was the kind of young man
from whom reasons are unnecessary.
He pushed on Into the smoke. Half
an hour later they were beyond Rob
inson’s farthest mark, and occasion
ally they had to take a sortie into
the choking vapor and push debris off
the rail. Presently the train came to
a full stop. Before it was a pile oi
bodies.
Leaving the others in the protected
coaches. Allan and Lefevre, guarded
by smoke helmets and armed with
smoke lights, pushed out ahead. Le
fevre had respectfully refused to let
him go alone.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
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A London Baby.
Visitor—What have you there, El
sie?
Elsie (proudly)—That’s a bomb we
made and we’re going to blow up the
nursery.
“Oh! oh! What for?”
“Perhaps you don’t know that the
new baby is a boy.”
A lady who had some friends (all un
expectedly) at lunch time was rather
afraid she would not have sufficient
food, and told Bridget to bring in aU
she had and she would make an apology
at the table.
Upon taking the cover from one dish
the lady found it empty, and afterward
asked Bridget why she took in an empty
dish.
“Shure. ma’am,” exclaimed Bridget,
“an’ wasn’t it yourself as said ye’d make
an apology at the table, an’ shouldn’t
you want a dish to put it on?”
Little Arthur—I have noticed that
whenever it rains the statue in the mar
ket-place gets smaller, mother. It is a
strange thing.
His Mother—Really, Arthur. I am
afraid you are becoming untruthful.
What you say is impossible.
Little Arthur (much hurt)—I beg your
pardon, mother! When It rains the stat
ue merely becomes a mere statuette
(statue wet.)
"Dearest,” ecstatically murmured the
enamored poet, "don’t you think we
would make a good cduplet?”
"Ah!” sighed the dear girl, nestling
still closer, "I am not averse.”
CASTOR IA
For Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have Always Bough!
Via New Orleans
I THE SAFEST AND BES1
ROUTE TO CALIFGRNI/
LOW
One Way COLONIST Rates from Atlanta, in Ef
fect September 25 to October 10
$42.20 TO CALIFORNIA
Through Standard and Tourist Sleeping Cars. Ask for
information and literature.
0. P. BARTLETT, G. A. R. 0. BEAN, T. P. A.
D. L. GRIFFIN, C. P. A.
121 Peachtree Street, Atlanta, Ga.