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'Nights With Uncle Remus
\ LXX—Brother Rabbit Rescuer Brothev Terrapin ‘
By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.
HE arrival of the negroes from
T the River place added greatlyl
to the enthuslasm with which
the Christmas holidays were antici
pated on th:: Home place, and the air
was filled with laughter day and
night. Uncle Remus appeared to be
very busy, though there was really
nothing to be done except to walk
around and scold at everybody and
everything, in a good-humored way,
and this the old man could do to per
fection.
The night before Christmas Eve,
however, the little boy saw a light in
Uncle Remus’ cabin, and he inter
preted it as in some sort a signal of
invitation. He found the old man
sitting by the fire and talking to him
self: :
‘Ef Mars John and Miss Sally
‘specks me fer ter keep all deze yer
niggers straight, deyer gwine ter be
diserp’inted—dat dey is. Es dey wuz
'lev’'m Remuses 't would n't make no
diffunce, let ’lone one po’ ole cripple
creetur lak me. Dey aint done no
damage yit, but I boun’ you by ter
morror night dey’ll tu'n loose en tu'n
de whole place upside down, en t'ar
it up by de roots, en den atter hit's
all done gone en done, yer'll come
Miss Sally a-layin’ it all at ole Remus
do’. Nigger aint got much chance
in deze yer low-groun’s, mo’ speshual
ly w'en dey gits ole en cripple lak
I a 2
“What are they going to do tomor
row night, Uncle Rumus?” the little
boy inquired.
“Now wat make you ax dat,
honey?” exclaimed the old man, in a
grieved tone. “You knows mighty
well how dey done las’ year en de
vear 'fo’ dat. Dey tuck’'n cut up
‘roun’ yer wuss'n es dey 'uz wil’ cree
turs, en termorrer night dey’ll be a- }
hollin® en whoopin’ en singin’ en
dancin’ 'fo’ it git dark good. I wish
w’'en yoy go up ter de big house you
be 80 good ez ter tell Miss Sally dat
es she want any peace er mipn’ she
better git off'n de place en stay off
twel atter deze .yer niggers git dey‘
fill er Chris’'mus. Goodness knows,
she can’t ’speck a ole cripple nigger}
lak me fer ter ketch holt en keep all |
deze yer niggers straight.” |
Uncle Remus would have kept upi
his vague complaints, but right in
the midst of them Daddy Jack stucu}
his head in at the door, and said: |
“Oona bin fix da’ 'Tildy gal shoe.
Me come fer git dem shoe; me come
fer pay you fer fix dem shoe.” |
Uncle Remus looked at the grinning
old African in astonishment. Then
suddenly the truth dawned upon him
and he broke into a loud laugh. Final
1y he said:
“Come in, Brer Jack! Come right
‘long in. ¥m sorter po'ly myse'f, yit
I'll make out ter make you welcome.
Dey wuz a quarter dollar gwine inter
my britches-pocket on de ’'count er
dem shoes, but es youer gwine ter
pay fer um 't won't be but a sev'm
punce.”
Somehow or other Daddy Jack
failed to relish Uncle Remus’ tone
and manner, and he replied, with
some display of irritation:
“Shuh-shuh! Me no come in no'n
't all. Me no pay you se'mpunce. Me
come fer pay you fer dem shoe; me‘
come fer tek um 'way sum dey-dey.”
“I dunno 'bout dat, Brer Jack, I}
dunno 'bout dat. De las’ time I year
yvou en 'Tildy gwine on, she wuz 'pun
de p'ints er knockin’ yo’' brains out.‘
Now den, s’pozen I whirls in en gins
you de shoes, en den 'Tildy come 'long ;
en ax me ’bout um, w'at I gwine say
ter 'Tildy?"”
“Me pay you fer dem shoe,” said”
Daddy Jack, seeing the necessity of
argument, “un me tek um wey da
il 'Tildy gal bin stay. She tell me“
fer come git-a dem shoe.”
“Well, den, yer dey is,” said Uncle
Remus, sighing deeply as he handed
Daddy Jack the shoes. “Yer dey is,
en youer mo' dan welcome, dat you is. ‘
But spite er dat, dis yer quarter you ‘
flingin’ 'way on um would er done you ;
a sight mo’ good dan w'at dem shoes
’S-" ¥ ‘
This philosophy was altogether lost
upon Daddy Jack, who took the shoes
and shuffled out with a grunt of satis
faction. He had scarcely got out of
hearing before 'Tildy pushed the door
open and came in. She hesitated a
moment, and then, seeing that Uncle
Remus paid no attention to her, she
sat down and picked at her fingers
with an air quite in contrast to her
usual “uppishness,” as Uncle Remus
azlled it.
“t’nk Remus,” she said, after
awhile, in a subdued tone, “is dat
old Affikin nigger bin yer atter dem
ar shoes?”
“yas, chile,” replied Uncle Remus,
with a long-drawn sigh, “he done bin
zer en got um en gone. Yas, honey,
ae done got um en gone; done come
en pay. fer 'm, en got um en gone.
I sez, sez I, dat I wish you all mightv
well, en he tuck'n tuck de shoes en
put. Yas, chile, he done got um en
gone.”
Something in Uncle Remus’ sympa
thetic and soothing tone seemed to
exasperate 'Tildy. She dropped her
hands in her lap, straightened her
self up and exclaimed:
“yas, I'm is gwine to marry dat
ole nigger an’ I don’t keer who knows
it. Miss Sally say she don’t keer,
Watch for “The Hidden Hand’’ in Motion Pictures; Read the Thrilling Story Here Each Day
T GRORGIIANS @ MAGCGAZINEPAGE
an’ t'er folks may keer es dey wanter, |
an’ much good der keerin’ 'll do um.”
'Tildy evidently expected Uncle
Remus to make some characteristic
comment, for she sat and watched
him with her lips firmly pressed to
gether and her eyelids half-closed—
an attitude of defiance significant
enough when seen, but difficult to de
scribe. But the old man made no
response to the challenge. He seemed
to be very busy. Presently 'Tiidy
went on: S
“Somebody bleedz to take keer er]
dat ole nigger, ah’ I dunner who
gwine ter do it es I don’t. Somebody‘
bleedz ter look atter ’'im. Good win’
come ’long hit 'ud in about blow 'xmi
'way es dey wa'n’t somebody closei
‘roun’ fer der take keer un 'im. Let
'lone dat, I aint gwineter have dat}
ole nigger man f'ever ’n ’ternaliy trot- |
tin’ atter me. I tell you de Lord's
trufe, Uncle Remus,” continued 'Tildy,
growing confidential, “I aint had no
peace er min’ sence dat ole nigger
man come on dis place. He des bin
a-pacin at my heels de whole blesed
time, an’ I bleedz ter marry 'im fer
git rid un ’‘lm.” NG
“Well,” said Uncle Remus, “hit
don’t s'prize me. You marry en den
youer des lak Brer Fox wid he bag.
You know w’at you put in it, but
you dunner w'at you got in it.”
'Tildy flounced out without waiting
for an exvlanation, but the mention
of Brother Fox attracted the atten
tion of the little boy, and he wantea
to know what was in the bag, how
it came tb be there, and all about it.
+ “Now, den,” said Uncle Remus,
“hit’s a tale, en a mighty long tale
at dat, but I'll des natter cut it
short, 'kaze termorrer night you’ll
wanter be a-settin’ up lis'nen at de
kyar'n’s on er dem ar niggers, w'ich
I b'lieve in my soul dey done los’ all
de sense-dey ever bin bormded wid.
“One time Brer Fox wuz gwine on
down de big road, en he look ahead
en he see ole Brer Tarrypin makin’
he way on todes home. Brer Fox
’lowl dis a mighty good time fer ter
‘nab ole Brer Terrypin, en no sooner
is he thunk it dan he put out back
home, w'ich 't wa'n’t but a Jittle
ways, en he git 'im a bag. He come
back, he did, en he run up behine ole
Brer Tarrypin en flip 'im in de bag
en sling de bag 'cross he back en go
gallin-up back home.
“Brer Tarrypin, he holler, but 't
aint do no good, he rip en he r'ar, but
't alnt do no good. Brer Fox des
keep on a-gwine, en 't wa'n't long
'fo’ he had ole Brer Tarrypin slung
up in de cornder in de bag, en de
bag tied un hard en fas.’
“But wiles all dis gwine on,” ex
claimed Uncle Remus, employing the
tone and manner of some country
preacher he had heard, “whar uz ole
‘Brer Rabbit? Yasser—dats it, whar
‘wuz he? En mo'n dat, w'at you 'speck
‘he ’uz doin’ en whar you reckon he
‘wer' gwine? Dat's de way ter talk
it; whar'bouts wuz he?”
~ The old man brought his right hand
down upon his knee with a thump
that jarred the.tin plate and cups on
the mantel-shelf, and then looked
around with a severe frown to see
what the chairs and the work bench,
‘and the walls and the rafters, had to
say in response to his remarkable ar
gument. He sat thus in a waiting at
titude a moment, and then, finding
that no respons2 came from anything
or anybody, his brow.gradually clear
ed, and a smile of mingled pride and
satisfaction spread over his face, as
he continued in a 2 more natural tone:
“Youk'n b’leeve me er not b’leeve
des ez youer min’ ter, but dat ar
long-year creetur—dat ar hoppity
skippity—dat ar up-en-down-en-sail
in’-roun’ Brer Rabbit, w'ich you hin
year me call he name ’'fo’ dis, he
wa'n't so mighty fur off w’iles Brer
Fox gwine ’'long wid dat ar bag slung
‘ecross ‘he back. Let ’lone dat, Brer
Rabbit 'uz settin’ right dar In de
busties by de side er de road, en
w'ence he see Brer Fox go trottin’
by, he ax hisse'f w'at is it dat cree
tur got in dat ar bag.
“He ax hisse'r, he did, but he dunno.
He wunder en he wunder, yit de mo’
he wunder de mo’ he dunno. Brer
Fox, he go trottin’ by, en Brer Rab
bit, he sot in de bushes en wunder.
‘Bimeby he 'low ter hisse'f, he did, dat
Brer Fox aint got no business fer ter
‘be trottin’ 'long down de road, totin’
‘doin’s w'ich yuther folks dunner w'at
‘dey is,nen he ’'low dat dey won't be
no great harm done et he take atter
'Brer Fox en fine out w'at he got in
i dat ar bag. J
. “Wid dat, Brer Rabbit, he put out.
'He aint got no bag fer ter tote, en he
}pick up he foots mighty peart. Mo'n
'dat, he tuck’'n tuck a nigh-cut, en by
‘de time Brer Fox git home, Brer Rab
‘blt done had time fer ter go 'roun’ by
\de watermillion-patch en do some er
‘he devilment, en den atter dat he
‘tuck‘n sot down in de bushes whar he
kin see Brer Fox w’en he come home.
‘ “Bimeby yer come Brer Fox wid de
bag slung 'cross he back. He on
latch de do’, he did, en he go in en
sling Brer Tarrypin down in de corn
der, en get down front er de h'ath
fer ter res’ hisse'f.”
Here Uncle Remus paused to laugh
in anticipation of what was to follow.
“Brer Fox aint mo’'n lit he pipe.”
the old man continued, after a tanta-
~ America’s Thanksgiving
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¢ SPEAK to you over rolling plains and steep mountains, over
pine forests and hot sands, from one gray sea to the other blue
one—l, the Spirit of your Country. My name is Columbia. The
stars are in my hair and crimson bars clothe my body—and I am so
bright that you may shade your eyes with your two curved hands and,
looking on me, never see me, ;
“My home is in old Washington of memories. But not there. I am
in your house—in your heart. In the house and heart of your neigh
bor—in the little narrow breast of your child in school. I am the thing
in that secret pool of thought within you, where emotions rise and toss
their dancing arms—the pulse that drums and quickens when your feet
touch the earth of your “native land.” I am the heart in your body
that can labor gallantly for an ideal—a star—and die for it in a strange
land.
“l am the conjured vision of that sweet, brave thing in your head
and heart that defends your hearth, your child, your honor, the house
that is yours and that within it that you have made yours. I am a
small voice in your heart—yet, lo!—I am a mighty creature of blinding
lizing pause, “’'fo’ Brer Rabbit stick
he head in de do’ en holler:
“‘Besr Fox! O Brer PFox: You
better take yo' walkin’-cane en run
down yan. Comin’ ’'long des now I
vear a mighty fuss, en I look 'roun’
en dar wuz a whole passel en folks
in yo’ watermillion-patch - des a
tromplin’ 'roun’ en a-t'arin’ down. I
holler’'d at um, but dey aint pay no
‘tention ter lit'’e man lak I is. Make
'a’se, Brer Fox! make ’'a’'se! Git yo’
cane en run down dar. I'd go wid
you myse'f, but my ole 'oman ailin’ en
I bleedz ter be makin’ my way todes
home. You better make 'a'se, Brer
Fox. es you wanter git de good er yo’
watermillions. Run, Brer Fox! run!’
“Wid dat Brer Rabbit dart back in
de bushes, en Brer Fox drap he pipe
en grab he walkin'-cane en put out
fer he watermillion-patch, w’ich 't
wer’ down on de branch; en no sooner
is he gone da nole Brer Rabbit come
out de bushes en make he way in de
house.
“He go so easy dat he aint make
no fuss; he look ‘roun’ en dar wuz
de bag in de cornder. He kotch holt
er de bag en sorter feel un it, en time
he do dis, he year sump'n’ holler:
“‘Ow! Go ’'way! Lem me 'lone!
Tu'n me loose! Ow!’
“Brer Rabbit jump back 'stonish’d.
Den ’fo' you kin wink yo’' eye-ball,
Brer Rabbit slap hisse’f on de leg en
t{reak out in a laugh. Den he up'n
'low:
“‘gf 1 aint make no mistakes, dat
ar kinder fuss kin come sum nobo@y
in de roun’ worl’ but ole Brer Tarry
pin.’
“Brer Tarrypin, he holler, sezee:
‘Aint dat Brer Rabbit?
“‘De same,’ sezee.
“‘Den whirl in en tu'n me out.
Meal dus’ in my th'oat, grit in my
eye, en I aint kin git my breff,
skacely. Tu'n me out, Brer Rabbit.’
“Brer Tarrypin talk lak somebody
down in a well. * Brer Rabbit, he hol
ler back:
*“‘Youer. lots smarter dan w'at 1
is, Brer Tarrypin—llots smarter.
Youer smarter en pearter. Peart ez I
come yer, you is ahead es me. I know
how you git in de bag, but I dunner
how “de name er goodness you tie
yvo'sef up in dar, dat I don't’
“Brer Tarrypin try ter splain, but
Brer Rabbit keep on laughin’, en he
laugh twel he git he fill er laughin’;
en den he tuck'n ontie de bag en take
Brer Tarrypin out en tote ’'im 'way
off In de woods. Den, w'en he done
dis, Brer Rabbit tuck'n run off en git
a great big hornet-nes’ w'at he see
w’en he comin’ long—"
“A hornet's nest, Uncle Remus?”
exclaimed the little boy. in amaze
ment.
“Tooby sho’, honey. ’'T aint bin a
mont’ sence I brung you a great Big
hornet-nes’, en yer you is axin’ dat.
Brer Rabbit tuck'n slap he han’ 'cross
de little hole whar de hornets goes
in at, en dar he had um. Den he
beauty! You can never see me, but you have made an fmage of me
for your delight. Ypu have given me a voice—and so I speak to you.
“Sailor-boy and Soldier-boy In my service—for your service I thank
you! You, little debutante—for your busy fingers and the things they
knit. Little shop-girl, for your mite that bought a Liberty Bond—l
know your pockethook. MOTHER-—for your son! Ruddy farmer—for
your labor, your brown earth, your food.
“Girl under the Red Cross—your tireless hands. your patience, your
knowledge, your sacrifice. Little thing in pinafore-—the pennies from
your hot little hand, for these and the letters you write—bright tears,
light hearts, and thanks! Gray man of plenty—for your ¢ime, your gold,
your brain, given lavishly!
“You—butterfly—painted lovely thing of grace and genius, actor-folk,
for your big heart, your open hand, for the treasure you have earned
and poured out for me! ‘Soclety pet’ for the giving of all you have—
your money, your playtime!
“T am in your hearts. I am rich this day for that. The stars in
my hair grow blinding bright—exultantly—for I walk my land today—
alive!”"-—-NELL BRINKLEY.
tuck’'n tuck it ter Brer Fox house, en
put it in de bag whar Brer Tarrypin
bin. ! ‘
‘““He . put- de . hornet-nes’ in dar,”
continued Uncle Remus, lowering his
voice, and'becoming very grave, "en‘
den he tie up de baé des lak he fine
it. Yit 'fo’ he put de bag back in de}
cornder, wat do dat creetur do? T
aint settin’ yer,” said the ole man,
seizing his chair with both hands, as
if Ly that means to emphasize the il
lustration, “I aimt settin’ yer es dat
ar creetur aint grab dat bag en slam
it down 'g'in de flo’, en hit it “g'in
de side er de house twel he git dem
ar hornets all stirred up, en den he
put de bag back in de #ornder, en go
out in de bushes ter whar Brer Tarry
pin waitin’, en den bofe un um sot
out dar en wait fer ter see w'at de
upshot gwine ter be.
“Bimeby, yer zome Brer Fox back
sum he watermillion-patch en he look
lak he mighty mad. He strak he cane
down 'pun de groun,’” en do lak he
gwine take he revengeance out'n po’
ole Brer Tarrypin. He went in de
do’, Brer Fox did, en shot it atter
’im. Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin
lissen’, but dey aint year nothin’.
“But bimeby, fus’ news you know,
dey year de mos’' owdashus racket,
tooby sho’. Seem lak, sum whar Brer
Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin settin’ dat
dey 'uz a whole passel er cows run
nin’ 'roun’ in Brer Fox house. Dey
‘year de cheers a-fallin’, enlde table
BY NELL BRINKLEY
Copyright, 1917, International News Service.
turnin’ over, en de crock'ry hreakin',}
en de do’ flew'd open, en out come |
Brer Fox, a-squallin’ lak de Ole Boy
wuz atter 'im. En sech a sight ez
dem t'er creeturs seed den en dar
aint never bin seed befo’ ner sence.
“Dem ar hornets des swarmed on
top er Brer Fox. 'Lev'm dozen un
um ‘ud. hit at one time, en look lak
dat ar creetur bleedz ter fine out fer
hisse’f w'at pain en suffin’ is. Dey
bit ’'im en dey stung ’'im, en fur ez
Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin kin
year 'im, dem hornets 'uz des a-nail
in’ 'lm. Gentermens! dey gun 'im
binjer!
“Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin, dey
sot dar, dey did, en dey laugh en
laugh, twel bimeby, Brer Rabbit roil
over en grab he stomach, en holler:
“‘Don’t, Brer Tarrypin! don't! One
giggle mo’ en you'll hatter tote me,’
“En dat aint all,” said Uncle Re
mus, raising his voice. “I know a
little chap w'ich es he set up yer
'sputin’ ’'longer me en de t'er cree
turs, he won't have much fun ter
morrer night.”
The hint was sufficient, and the lit
tle boy ran out laughing.
(Copyright, 1881, 1882, 1909 and 1911,
by The Century Company; 1883, by
Joel Chandler Harris: 1911, by Esther
L.a Rose Harris. AULL RIGHTS RE
SERVED. Printed by permission of
and by special arrangement with
Houghton Mifflin Campany.)
Tomorrow—Why the Hawk
Catchesn Chickens.
The Hidden Hand
A SERIAL OF ENGROSSING MYSTERY
SYNOPSIS.
Doris Whitney, heiress of Judson
Whitney, coming to the library to
meet her father, finds him shot and
a stranger who was calling on him
also shot. She calls help, and the
dying man accuggs his secretary,
Jack Ramsay, of the crime. Whit
ney dies, and the stranger, who
proves to be the Grand Duke Alexie
vitch, tells Doris that she is his
daughter, that she was condemned
te death when a baby by the Czar
on the representations of a mad
monk, Rascon, that she would ex
ercvise a malignant influence over
the ruler’s life. The Duke was ex
iled, but later found his baby had
been brought up by Judson Whitney
and was still allve. He had come
to claim her and was shot down with
Whitney. He carries an explosive
packet cantaining Doris’ fingerprints.
It can be opened by fitting into it the
locket Doris wears. The Duke drops
dead.
ARTHUR B. REEVE,
Creator of the “Craig Kennedy”
mystery stories, which appear ex
clusively in Cosmopolitan Magazine,
EPISODE 1.
“The Gauntlet of Death.”’
(Copyright, 1917, Star Company.)
LATT seized Ramsay roughly,
F Come, now-—you may as well
tell——"
“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” inter
rupted James, the butler, “it was met
and Jane here as followed Mr, Ram
say himself into the library, sir, di
rectly after Miss Doris screamed.
How could he have been in and got
out =soo soon, sir? There must ba
some mistake.”
“Arrest him,” snarled Abner, cut
ting the maid’s story short, too.
“Yes, he shall go to the chair for
this,” added Scarley.
Scarley caught Ramsay’'s eyes fixed
on him. They glared at each other
a moment, then Scarley lowered his
gaze. “Arrest him, I say. Take him
to jail.” |
“Enough of this farce,” cried Ram
say, suddenly throwing off the de
teclives and pulling some papers
from his pocket, “T am John Ramsay,
of the Seccret Service. When we
learned that the Grand Duke was
coming to America to see Judson
Whitney, I was assigned to find out,
the nature of his commission. That
is why I obtained work here as a sec
retary.”
Amazement was written on the
faces of all. Scarley gave back, and
Abner forgot to bluster. Detective
Flatt also retired a pace. In Ram
say at once he recognized a master
hand at his own art, .
“Get over by the fireplace whera
you have been standing for the last
ten minutes and stay there,” barked
| Ramsay at Scarley.
A moment's hesitation, and Scarley
walked over,
[ “Now, Flatt,” continued Ramsay in
‘a decisive tone, “I'm going to tell you
‘something. The murderer is a mon
| ster of the art of scientific impersona
tlon. T am going into the hall. Send
these people out to me, one at a time,
‘Abner Whitney first!”
Flatt nodded obedience, and walked
‘over to Abner.
“You,” shot out Famsay as he
faced Abner a moment later in the
hallway, “you may forget your pre
tended sorrow. You hope to get your
brother's money. Now-—go.”
Abner Disappears.
Abner disappeared, furious, down
the hall. Verda was the next sum
moned. Almost before Ramsay could
question her she began sobbing on his
shoulder. He looked down at her a
moment. There was no doubt that
Verda was flinging herself at him.
Now, would many men have objected?
“In a moment you will be a foolish
girl,” he sald impersonally, disengag
ing her arms. “Now, go to your
room.”
Verda turned from him, but as she
went down the hall she could not re
sist looking back at him archly, even
at this tragic moment.
In the library, Doris had sunk down
in a chair by the table, her head in
a whirl at the events which in only a
At B
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of The Daily Georgian and Sunday American. 3
Chances are you will find precisely what you’
looking for—whether an automobile or an invest
ment opportunity, a new three-room dpartment or
a ‘‘mansion on the hill.”’ %
i
Or, if this wide range should fail you, turn around
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of The Georgian-American. il
Put your want on paper in a few, well-chosen words,
and leave it with or *‘
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B R o ety s
few minutes had completely chs
her life. She did not even notie
it was her own fiance, confider
her father, whom Ramsay called
She hated Ramsay—she hated es
one. Which of these two ;3
was her father, anyway? It W
fearful situation. Was she eve
American girl? :?;
Ramsay was waiting as
passed through the portieres, 1}
his characteristic bluff, Scarley &
to bluster. Ramsay did not def
answer. With a quick jerk o
thumb, he indicated the fronm v
He did not even utter a word.
a backfire of hatred, Scarley Jeft*
Then Ramsay turned toward .M
portieres and entered. A motionle
the hand was enough to dismiss e
butler and the maid. To Flatt and
police he whispered about the digy
sition of the two bodies. Thi éfi
turned to Doris, who was .star
straight ahead, tearless. As He B
ly tried to lift her up, suggesting g
she leave the room of the traged¥ ‘i
flung his hand away. K
“May I—take charge of the lockey
he suggested. n
She looked at him angrily. %%
was this man? Was he really
murderer? If not, he was an inf,
loper in the house who had been ' ;
ing a game, .
Ramsay Sets to Work. = °
“No,” she almost snapped, as
ran from the room, calling for,
maid ahead of her to go up to heres
room. I
Ramsay stood aside patientlys &=
was a wonderful girl. He felt 8¢
for her. Also he felt patience. &
‘would solve this case for her.. 4.
‘in pity for a beautiful woman ffi
is always the dawn of a deeper &
timent, o
He turned to Flatt. “After |
Coroner has been here,” he ordel
“you may go. Only leave a mani
guard.” e
'Some time later, Flatt's work di
and the bodies having been remeo¥
Ramsay returned to the libraryws &
place had a fascination for K&
What évidence might he find he
He sget to work. One by Af_"'zf;
looked over the papers of Jud.
Whitney as he found them. %§
there no will? If so, it might § -"
tain the explanation of this myst:
He began searching. sl
As he searched and rea.d,‘:;”. ;-
began thinking of Abner "’l i
Scarley. Why he suspected Seai
he could not himself have told. ¥
as he looked over the papers et
ously, it began to dawn in h 4.
Dr. Scarley was more than fié 'p
and confldant. He has been |
trusted by Judson Whitney &
large transactions. Had he abu
that trust? Might not discovery bt
threatened him? How deep W r
love of Doris for him—deep er_i' by
save him, in that case? Might!
not have feared discovery? Thed
ger he thought of it, the niore«
Ramsay came to suspect that all ¥
not as smooth as it had appearss %
the surface. Scarley was wol - ’%
pecting. 20
He checked himself in his fi
spun theories. After all, if it Wlfi
motive he sought, who would pr
most if Doris were not Doris WE
ney, but the Grand Duchess? TH
was one answer—Abner Whithh
Yes, Uncle Abner was = decid&
'wurth watching, too. T g
l (To Be Continued Tomorrog‘};;‘
.
' ;
Do You Know--
oy
e s &
A salt-producing lake near Salf
Statlon, on the Tampico division ‘of%
Mexican Central Railway, 72 miles &
of San Luis Potosi, is one of the s
ders of Mexico. It may be termses
two-story lake, for at times t ;‘_’j‘;\"v
lake of fresh water overlying the &
lake. A watertight roof of green &
separates the fresh from the salt wa
* - » )RR
Chinese gardeners sometimes p§
statuettes of tiny men firmly incg
just like real plants, and then traim
evergreens to grow up over these st
uettes. The vines thus form a king:
robe for the statuette men, f‘;
faces and hands protruding e
green leaves. v
—
TN “