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Nights With Uncle Remus/
LXX-—Brother Rabbit Rescuer Brothev Terrapin “
By JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.
¥ HE arrival of the negroes from 1
‘,,T the River place added greatly
3t to the enthusiasm with which
2 the Christmas holidays were :.mm.‘
pated on the Home place, and the :urli
S was filled with Jaughter day and
"'ML Uncle Remus appeared to lu-‘
“))’\'ery busy, though there was 1"-unyi
~ Dothing to be done except to \\':nlk‘
1 around and scold at everybody ;m'”
(everything, in a good-humored way,
8 and this the old man could do to per ‘
“fiMlon. ‘\
$ The night before Christmas FEve,
« ®however, the little boy saw a light in
. sUncle Remus cabin, and he inter
t‘;m it as in some sort a signal of
!’invltadon. He found the old man
s#itting by the fire and talking to him
self:
‘Bt Mars John and Miss Sally
¥ 'specks me fer ter keep all deze yer
3 miggers straight, deyer gwine ter be
3 diserp'inted —dat dey is. Es dey wuz
" ¥ 'lov'm Remuses 't would n't make no
. 4diffunce, let 'lone one po' ole cripple
creetur lak me. Dey aint done no
‘damage yit, but I boun’ you by ter
;mor right dey'll tu'n loose en tu'n
~ de whole place upside down, en t'ar
f bt up by de roots, en den atter hit's
. tall done gene en done, yer'll come
F .i'uill Sally a-layin’ it all at ole Remus
~§mdo’. Nigger aint got much chance
: g&n doze yer Jow-groun's, imo’ speshual
xngly w'en dey gits ole en cripple lak
g‘lj.'l is.”
2 f;» *What are they going to do tomor
fl' night, Uncle Rumus?” the little
boy inquired.
. “Now wat make you ax dat,
'\ honey?"’ exclaimed the old man, in a
L'.‘hved tone. “You knows mighty
Sowell how dey done las’ year en de
= year 'fo’ dat. Dey tuck’'n eut up
& ‘roun’ yer wuss'n es dey 'uz wil’ cree
! _turs, en termorrer night dey’ll be a
" hollin' en whoopin’ en singin’ en
fdancin’ 'fo’ it git dark good. 1 wish
‘W'en you go up ter de big house you ‘
.be 80 good ez (er tell Miss Sally dat
es she want sny peace er min' she
¥ iter git off'n de place en stay off
b m atter deze yer niggers git dey
; " er Chris'mus, Goodness Knows,
+ #he can’t 'speck a ole cripple nigger
i * lak me fer ter ketch holt en keep all
{ yer niggers straight.”
i Uncle Remus would have kept up
‘his vague complaints, but right in
?fio midst of them Daddy Jack stuck
* his head in at the door, and said:
B¢ *"Oona bin fix da' 'Tildy gal shoe.
"O come fer git dem shoe; me come
* pay you fer fix dem shoe.”
. .Uncle Remus looked at the grinning
b African in astonishment. Then
' suddenly the truth dawned upon him
H 'f,*_A d he broke into a loud laugh. Final
1y he said:
:,; “Come in, Brer Jack! Come right
:;_ in. I'm sorter po'ly myse'f, vit
i Il make out ter make you welcome.
%! Dey wuz a quarter dollar gwine inter
L my britches-pocket on de ’'count er
_dem shoes, but es youer gwine ter
S pay fer um 't won't be but a sev'm
}MOE.“
~ Somehow or other Daddy Jack
failed to relish Uncle Remus' tone
iand manner, and he replied, with
me display of irritation:
. “Shuh-shuh! Me no come in no'n
*t.all. Me no pay you se’'mpunce, Me
. ime fer pay yvou fer dem shoe: me
" come fer tek um 'way sum dey-dey.”
¥ “I dupno ‘'bout dat, Brer Jack, 1
,dunno ‘bout dat. De las’ time I year
' you en 'Tildy gwine on, she wuz 'pun
p'ints er knockin' yvo' brains out.
‘Now den, s'pozen I whirls in en gins
you de shoes, en den 'Tildy come ‘long
f®n ax me "bout um, wat 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
e 'Tildy gal bin stay. She tell me
| fer come git-a dem shoe.”
. “Well, den, yer dey is,” said Uncle
iemus, sighing deeply as he handed
Daddy Jack the shoes. “Yer dey is,
'» youer mo' dan welcome, dat you is.
,m‘- spite er dat, dis yer quarter you
flingin’ 'way on um would er done you
al‘ht mo’ good dan w'at dem shoes
philosophy was altogether lost
upon Daddy Jack, who took the shoes
ind shuffied out with a grunt of satis-
Aetion. He had scarcely got out of
hearing before 'Tildy pushed the door
fi',‘- and came in. She hesitated a
moment, and then, seeing that Uncle
Remus paid no attention to her, she
#at down and picked at her fingers
with an afr cuite in contrast to her
ususl “uppishness,” as Uncle Remus
called it,
i “Unk Remus” she said, after
‘awhile, in & 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
" yer en got um en gone, Yas, honey,
“he done got um en gone; done come
'oo.y fer 'm, en got um en gone.
T sez I, dat I wish you all mighty
kwell, en he tuck’'n tuck de shoes en
' 3 ‘-'!u, chile, he done got um en
“Something in Uncle Remus’ sympa
jhetic and soothing tone seemed to
Xasperate 'Tildy. She dropped her
an in her lap, straightened her
” and exclaimed:
@B, I'm is gwine to marry dat
i an’ I don't keer whe knows
| sSally say -lho»doi.z keer,
Watch for “The Hidden Hand’’ in Motion Pictures; Read the Thrilling Story Here Each Day
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I CRORCIANS 4 MAGAZINE PAGHE
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 firmnly pressed to
gether and her eyelids half-closed—
an attitude of defiance significant
enough when seen, but difficult to de
geribe. But the old man made no
response to the chellenge. He seemed
to be very busy. Presently 'Tiidy
went on;
“Somebody bleedz to take keer er
dat ole nigger, an’' | dunner who
gwine ter do it es | don’t. Somebody
bleedz ter look atter 'im. Good win'
come ‘long hit 'ud In about biow ‘mn
'way es dey wa'n't somebody close
'roun’ fer der take keer un ’'im, Let
'lone dat, 1 aint gwineter have dat
ole nigger man f'ever "n 'ternally trot
tin’ atter me. [ 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 'im.” L
“Well,” said Uncle Remus, “hit
don’t &'prize me. You marry en den
vouer 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 explanation, 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 eame to be there, and all about it,
“Now, den,” said Uncle Remus,
“hit's a tale, en a (nighty long tale
at dat, but I'll des hatter 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 hornded wid.
“One time Brer Fox wuz gwine on
down de big road, en he look ahead
‘en he see ole Brer Tarrypin makin’
he why on todes home. Brer Fox
low dis a mighty good time fer ter
nab ole Brer Terrypin, en no sooner
is he thuek it dan he put out back
home, w'ich 't wa'n't but a little
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 g 0
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 hl‘ 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 lin a waiting at
titude a moment, and then, finding
that no respons? came from anything
or anyboedy, his brow gradually clear
ed, and a smile of mingled pride and
satisfaction spread over his face, as
he continued in a more natural tone:
“Youk'n b'leeve me er not b'leeve
des ez youer min' ter, but dat ar
long-vear creetur—dat ar hoppity
skippity—dat ar up-en-down-en-sail
in'-roun’ Brer Rabbit, w'ich you bin
yvear 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
‘eross he back., Let ’lone dat, Brer
Rabbit 'uz settin' right dar In de
bushes 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, en he 'low dat dey won't be
no great harm done es he take atter
Brer Fox en fine out w'at he got in
dat ar bag.
“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
bit 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 ver 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 set down front er de h'ath
fer ter res’ hisse'f.”
Here Uncie Remus paused to laugh
in antieipation of what was to follow.
“Brer Fox aint mo'n lit he pipe,”
# the ¢ld man continued, after a tanta
- America’s Thanksgiving
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€¢ SPEAK to you over rolling plalns and steep mountains, over
l pine forests and hot sands, from one gray sea to the other blue
one—l, the Svirit of your Country. My rame 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. | 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. 1 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.
“T 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 i 8 yours and that within it that you have made yours. [ 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:
“Brer Fox! O Brer Fox! Yon
better take yo' walkin'-cane en run
down yan. Comin’ 'long des now I
year a mighty fuss, en I look 'roun’
en dar wuz a whole passel er folks
in yo' watermillion-patch des a
tromplin' 'roun’ en a-t'arin’ down. 1
holler’'d at um, but dey aint pay no
'tention ter lit'le 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
fl bleedz ter be makin’ my way todes
'home, You better make 'a’se, Brer
h‘ox 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-pateh, 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: Ite look ‘roun’ en dar W\ll{
de bag in de cernder. He kotch holt
er de bag en sorter feel un it, en time
he do dis, he year sump'n’ holler: |
“‘Ow! Go 'way! L.em me ’'lone!
Tu'n me loose! Ow!’
“Brer Rabbit jump back ’'stonish'd.
Den 'fo’ vou kin wink vo' eve-ball,
Brer Rabbit slap hisse't on de leg en
H‘x;eak out in a laugh. Den he up'n
low:
“‘BEf 1 aint make no mistakes, dat
ar kinder fuss kin come sum nobody
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 1 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—lots smarter.
Youer smarter en pearter. Peart ez I
come yer, you is ahead er me. 1 know
how you git in de bag, but I dunner
how de name er goodness you tle
yo'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 comi’ long—" (
“A hornet's nest, Uncle Remus?”.
‘exclaimed the little boy, in amaze
‘ment. |
“Tooby sho’, honey. 'T aint bin a
mont’' sence [ brung you a great big
hornet-nes’, en yer vou is axin' dat
Brer Rabbit tuck’'n slap he han’ 'cross
de little hole whar de hornets goes
in at. en dar he bad um. Dan he
THURSDAY, NOV, 29, 1917,
beauty! You can never see me, but you have made an image of me
for your delight. You 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 pocketbook. MOTHER—for your son! Ruddy farmer—for
vour 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
yvour hot little hand, for these and the letters you write—bright tears,
light hearts, and thanks! Gray man of plenty—for your time, 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! ‘Society pet,’ for the giving of all you have—
your money, your playtime! :
“I am in your hearts. I am®™sich 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 bag des lak he fine
it. Yit 'fo’ he put de bag back in de‘
cornder, w'at do dat creetur do? I
aint settin’ ver,” said the ole man,
seizing his chair with both hands, as
if Ly that means to emphasize the il
lustration, “I aint 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 ail stirred up, en den he
put de bag back in de g#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, ver come 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 gassol er cCows run
nin’ ‘roun’ in Brer Fox house. Dey
year da cheers a~fellinl, ag da tabla
BY NELL BRINKLEY (
Copyright, 1917, International News Service. 3
turnin’ over, en de crock'ry breakin’,
en de do' flew'd open, en out come
Brer Fox, a-squallin’ lak de Ole Boy
wug 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'mm dozen un,
um ‘'ud hit at one time, en look lak
dat ar creetur bieedz 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’ 'im. 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 veice. “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, 1883. 1909 and 1911,
Ihy The Century Comvpany; 1883, by
Joel Chandler Harris: 1911, by Esther
La Rose Harris. ALL RIGHTS RE
SERVED. Printed by permission of
and by special arrangement with
Houghton Miflin Company.) 1
Tomorrow—Why the Hawk
Catches 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 ?lehl‘p,s::;g'atg?
3zé'§‘mmr-ly. wg:ufi crime, Whit
ney dies, and the stranger, who
proves to be the Grand Duke Alexie
vitch, tells. Doris thut she is his
daughter, that she was condemned
to 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 iater found his baby had
been brought up by Judson Whitney
and was still alive. He had come
to claim her and was shot down with
Whitney. He carries an explosive
parcket 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 ar'»‘n:r ex
clusively in Cocmgpoluhn agazine,
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 cauld he have been in and got
out so soon, Bir? There raust ba
some mistake,”
~ “Arrest hjm,” snarled Abner, cut
;tinx the maid’s story short, too.
~ “Yes, he shall go to the chair forl
ithis," 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-}
tectives and pulling some papers
from his pocket, “I am John Ramsay,
of the Secret Service, When we
learned that the Grand Duke was
coming to America to see Judson
Whitney, T 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
vou 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
tion. 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
momeltt. 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 said 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
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few minutes had completely changed
her life. She did not even notice that
it was her own fiance, confident of
her father, whom Ramsay called next,
She hated Ramsay—she hated every«
one. Which of these two men really
was her father, anyway? it was a
fearful situation. Was she even an
American girl?
Ramsay was waiting as Secarley
passed through the portieres. With
his characteristic bluff, Scarley began
to bluster. Ramsay did not deign to
answer. With a quick Jerk_of his
thumb, he indicated the front door.
He did not even utter a word.” With
a backfire of hatred, Scarley left.
Then Ramsay turned toward the
portieres and entered. A motion of
the hand was enough to dismiss the
butler and the maid. To Flatt and the
police he whispered about the dispo
sition of the two bodies. Then he
turned to Doris, who was staring
straight ahead, tearless. As he gent
ly tried to lift her up, suggesting that
she leave the room of the tragedy, she
flung his hand away.
~ “May I—take charge of the locket?”
he suggested.
She looked at him angrily. Who
‘was this man? Was he really the
‘murderer? If not, he was an inter
loper in the house who had been play
| ing a game,
Ramsay Sets to Work.
“No,” she almost snapped, as sho
ran from the room, calling for the
maid ahead of her to go up to her own
room,
Ramsay stood aside patiently. She
was a wonderful girl. He felt sorry
for her. Also he felt patience. He
lwould solve this case for her. And
in pity for a beautiful woman there
is always the dawn of a deeper sen<
timent.
He turned to Flatt. *“After the
Coroner has been here,” he ordered,
“you may go. Only leave a man on
guard.”
Some time later, Flatt's work done
and the bodies having been removed,
Ramsay returned to the library. The
place had a fascination for him.
What evidence might he find here?
He set to work. One by one he
looked over the papers of Judson
Whitney as he found them. Was
there no will? If so, it might con«
tain the explanation of this mystery,
He began searching.
As he searched and read, Ramsay
began thinking of Abner and Dr.
Scarley. Why he suspected Scarley
he could not himself have told, Yet,
as he looked over the papers curi
ously, it began to dawn in him that
Dr. Scarley was more than fiance
and confidant. 'He has been en
trusted by Judson Whitney _with
large transactions. Had he abused
that trust? Might not discovery have
threatened him? 'How deep was the
love 6f Doris for him—deep enough to
save him, in that case? Might he
not have feared discovery? 'The lon
ger he thought of it, the more Jack
Ramsay came to, Suspéct that all was
not as smooth as it had appeared on
the surface. Scailey was worth sus=
pecting. R A
He checked himself in his fine~
spun theories. After all, if it were
motive he sought, who would profit
most if Doris were not Doris Whit
ney, but the Grand Duchess? There
was one answer—Abner Whitney.
Yes, Uncle Abner was decidedly
worth watching, too.
l (To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
.
A salt-producing lake near Salinas
Station, on the Tampico division of the
Mexican Central Railway, 72 miles west
of San Luis Potosi, is one of the won
ders of Mexico. It may be termed a
two-story lake, for at times there is a
lake of fresh water overlying the salt
lake. A watertight roof of green mud
separates the fresh .from the salt water,
* - 4
Chinese gardeners sometimes plant ‘
statuettes of tiny men firmly in pots,
just like real plants, and then train live
evergreens to grow up over these stat
uettes. The vines thus form a kind of
robe for the statuette men, their white
faces and hands protruding from the
green leaves, &