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EIGHT Wjfgtifc' > -yr "»* (*i Continued from Yesterday. "Something like hardtack. Well, he can't give you that without ceremonial. When I arrived at the lodge with Ah med the old boy—he had the complex ion of a prtma donna-—the old boy eat on hi* portable throne, glittering with order* Standing beside him wa* a chap we called Umballa. He had been a atreet rat. A bit of Impudence had caught the king* fancy, and he brought up tbo boy, clothed, fed him, •P<* sent him away down to Umbulla to school When the boy returned he talked Umballa morning, uoon, and night, til! the *oldiers began to call him that, and from them It passed on to tbe native*, all of whom disliked the upstart. Hanged If 1 can recall his real name He was ugly and hand some at the same time; suave, pa tient, courteou*; yet somehow or other 1 sensed the real man below—the Tar tar blood I took a dislike to him, first off It's the animal sense. You’ve got It, Kit. Behind the king sat the Council of Three—three wise old ducks I wouldn't trust with an old um brella ” Winnie laughed. "While we were salaaming and genuflecting and using grandiloquent phrases the bally leopard got loose, somehow. Maybe some one let him loose; 1 don't know. Anyhow, he mad* for the king, who was too thun derstruck to dodge. The rest of ’em *ook to their heels, you may lay odds on that Now, 1 had an honest liking for the king Heetng tbe brute make for him. I dashed forward. You see, St ceremonials you're not permitted to carry arms It had to be with my bands Tbe leopard knocked the old boy flat and began to maul him. I kicked the brute In tbe face, swept tbe king's turban off his head and flung it about tbe head of the leopard. Somehow or other I got him down. Some of the frightened natives came up. and with the help of Ahmod we got tbe brute tied up securely. When tbe king came around he silently shook hands with me and smiled peculiarly at Umballa, who now came running up.' "And that’s how you got those poor hands!" exclaimed Kuthlyn, kissing the scars which stood out white against the tan. "That's howg" raising the hands and putting them on Kathlyu'a head In a kind of benediction. "Ia that aUr* asked ‘Winnie, breath lessly. "Isn’t that etirnigllT" be retorted. "Wall, what la It. Martha? Dinner? Well, If I haven’t cheated you girls out of your tea.” "Tea!" sniffed Winnie disdainfully. "Do you know, dad, you're awfully mean to Kit and me. If you'd take the trouble you could be more Interesting than any book I ever read.' "He doesn't believe hla stories would Interest vain young ladioa,” said Kuth lyn, gravely. Her father eyed her aharply. Of what was she thinking? In those calm unwavering eyes of hers he saw a question, and he feared in hla aoul •be might voice It. He could evade questions of the volatile Winnie, but there was no getting by Kathlyn with evasions. Frowning, he replaced the order In the box, which he put away In a drawer. It waa all arrant nonsense, anyhow; nothing could poe slbly happen; If there did, he would feel certain that he no longer dwelt In a real workaday world. The Idle whim of a sardonic old man; nothing more than that. 'Father. Is the king dead?" “Dead! What makes you ask that. Kit?" “The past tense; you said he waa, net la." "Yea, he's dead, and the news cam* this morning Hence, the yarn." "Will there be any danger In re turning*" I "My girl, whenever I pack my lug tMe there It danger. A cartridge may •tick; a man may stumble; a man you rely on may fall you. As for that. I there a always danger. It's tbe penally of balng alive “ On the way to the dining r<om Kath lyn thought deeply. Why had her fa. tber asked them If they loved him? Why did he speak of the Big Trek? I There waa something more than this glittering medal, something more than this simple tale of bravury. What? Wall, If ha declined to take her Into hla eonfldanca ho must have good rueeon. After dinner that night the colonel ftrant the rounds, as waa hts habit nightly. By and by be returned to the bungalow, but did not-enter. 11« Ailed hla cutty and walked to and fro In the moonlight, with bla head bent and his hands clasped behind his back. There was a restlessness In hi* stride not unlike that of the captive beasts In Kwgea nearby. Oceaaionally he d at tbe clink clink of tbe ele lrona or at the "wuss" as the un pachyderm poured duet on hla il It was madness A parchment idustunl, given jestingly or Ironic «UX by g humorous old chap In order* Tbe Adventures of Kathlyn By HAROLD MAC GRATH Illustrated by Pictures from the Moving Picture Production of the Sellg Polyscope Co. and white linen and rhinoceros san dals. ... A throne! Pshaw! It was bally nonsense. As if a white man could rule over a brown one by the choice of the latter! And yet, that man Umballa’* face, when he bad shown the, king the portraits of his two lovely daughters! He would send Ahmed. Ahmed knew the business as well as he did. He would send his abdication to the council, giving them the right to choose his successor. He himself would remain home with the girls. Then he gazed up at the moon and smiled grimly. "Hukum hal!” he murmured in Hin dustani. “It Is the orders. I've simply got to go. When I recall those rubles and emeralds and pearls. . . . Well, It's not cupidity for myself. It's for the girls. Besides, there's the call, the adventure. I've simply go to go. I can’t, escape It. 1 must be always on the go . . . since she died." A few days later he stood again before the desk In the living room. He was -dressed for travel. He sat down and penned a note. From the box which contained the order ho ex tracted a large envelope, heavily sAaled. This he balanced in his hand for a moment, frowned, laughed, and swore softly. He would abdicate, but at a snug profit. Why not? . . . He was an old fool. Into a still larger envelope he put the sealed envelope and hie own note, then wrote upon It. He was blotting It as his daughters en tered. "Come here, my pretty cubs.” He held out the envelope. "I want you. Kit, to open this on December SI, at midnight. Girls like mysteries, and If you opened It any time but midnight It wouldn’t he mysterious. Indeed, I eMU probably have you both on the arena of my chair when you open It” "Is It about the medal?” demanded Winnie "By George, Kit, the child is begin ning to reason out things,” he jested Winnie laughed, and so did Kath lyn. but she did so because occultly she felt that her father expected her to laugh. She was positively uncanny sometimes In her perspicacity. “On December 81, at midnight," she repeated. "All right, father. You must write to us at leaHt once every fort night.” “I'll cable from Singapore, from Cey lon, and write a long letter from Al laha, Como on. We must be off. Ah med is wafting." Horae hours later the two girls saw the Pacific Mall steamer move with cold and Insolent majesty out toward tbo Golden Gate. Kathlyn proved rather uncommunicative on the way home. December 31 kept running through her mind. It held a portent of evil. Hhe knew something of the Orient, though she had never visited India. Had her father made an Im placable enemy? Was he going Into some unknown, unseen danger? l>e oember 81, at midnight. Could she hold her curiosity In check that long? RmL* - jHh ft nTi -w v c nHL * > Umballa Leaving California. Many of the days that followed dragged, many flew -the first for Kathlyn, the last for Winnie, who now had a beau, a young newspaper man from Han Francisco. He came out regularly every Saturday and returned at night. Winnie became, If anvthtu& more flighty than ever. Her father never had young mnu abouL The men he generally gathered round his board were old hunters or sailors Kathlyn watched this budding romance amused ly. The young man waa very nice. Hut her thoughts were always and eternally with her father. During the last week In December there arrived at the Palace hotel lu San Francisco an East Indian, tall, well formed, rather handsome Ex cept for his brown turban he would have passed unnotloed For Hindus and Japanese and Chinamen and what not* from the southern seas were •very day affairs The brown turban, however, and an enormous emerald on one of hts fingers, produced an effect quite gratifying to him in the oriental Is never conspicuous for Its absence. The reporters gave him scant (Copyright by Harold MecCirelii) attention, though, for this was at a time when the Gaekwar of Baroda was unknown. The stranger, after two or three daya of idling, casually asked the way to the wild animal farm of his old friend, Colonel Hare. It was easy enough lo find. At the village Inn he was treated with tolerant contempt. These brown fellows were forever coming and going, to and fro, from tha colonel’s celebrated farm. At five o'clock In the afternoon of the 31st day of December, this East Indian peered cautiously Into tha French window of the Hare bungalow. The picture he saw thgre sent a thrill Into his heart. She was as fair and beautiful as an hourl of Sa’adi. She sat at a desk, holding a long, white envelope In her hand. By and by she put It. away, and he was particular to note the drawer In which she placed it. That the dark-haired girl at the tea tabaret was equally charming did not stir the watcher. Dark haired women were plentiful In his native land. Yon der was the girl of the photograph, the likeness of which had fired hla heart for many a day. With the pa tience of the oriental he stood In the shadow and waited. Sooner or later they would leave the room, and sooner or later, with the deftness of his breed, he would enter. The leopard he had heard about was nowhere to be seen. "Winnie," said Kathlyn, “I dread It.” Winnie set down the teacup, her eyes brimming. “What can It all mean? Not a line from father since Colombo, five months gone." "Do you think —” "No, no!” replied Kathlyn, hastily. “Father sometimes forgets. He may be hunting miles from telegraph wires and railroads; It Is only that he should forget us so long. Who knows? He may have dropped down Into Borneo. He wanted some pythons, so I heard him say.” The elder sister did not care to In still Into the heart of her charge the fear which was In her own. "Who knows but there may be good news In the envelope? Dad's always doing something like that. New Year’s!” The collie, released from the kitchen, came bounding in. In his exuberance he knocked over a cloisonne vase. Both girls were glad to welcome this di version. They rose simultaneously end gave chase. The dog headed tor the outdoor studio, where they caught Mm and made believe they were pun* lulling; hint. Quietly the watcher entered through Uie window-, alert and tenae. He flew to the desk, found the envelope, (teamed It open at the kettle, extract ed the sealed envelope and Colonel Hare's note. He smiled as he read the latter and changed his plans com pletely. He would not play messen ger; he would use a lure instead. With his ear strained for sounds, he wrote and substituted a note. This hourl of Sa'adi would not pause to note the difference In writing: the vltalnees of the subject would euchaln her thoughts. It was all accomplished In the space of a few minutes. Smiling, he passed out Into the fast settling twilight They were shipping a lioa to San Francisco, and the roaring and con fusion were all very satisfactory to the trespasser. Midnight. From afar came the mel low notes of the bells in the aucleut Spanish mission. The old year was dead, the new year was born, carrying with It the unchanging sound of hap piness and misery, or promises made and promises broken, of good and evil. "The packet!” cried Winnie. Kathlyn recognized In that call that Winnie was only a child. All the re sponsibility lay upon her sbouldeis. She ripped the cover from the packet and read the note. "Kathlyn: If not heard from I'm held captive In Allaha. Sealed document can save me. Bring It yourself to Al laha by first steamer. FATHER." “I knew It," said Kathlyn, calmly. The fear In her heart had, as the brown man had anticipated, blinded her to the fact that this was not her father's characteristic blunt scrawl. "Oh. Kit, Kit!" "Hush, Winnie! I must go, and go alone. Where's the evening paper? Ah. here It Is. I<et me see what boat leaves San Francisco tomorrow. The Empress of India. 6 a. m.' I roust make that. Now. you're your father's daugh ter. too. Winnie. You must stay be hind and be brave and wait. 1 shall come back. I shall find father. If I have to rouse all India. Now, to pack." When thay arrived at the station the passenger train had just drawn out For a while Kathlyn felt beaten. She would be compelled to wait another week. It was disheartening. "Why not try the freight, then?" cried Winnie. "You little angel! I never thought of that!" But the crew would not hear of It. It was absolutely against the com pany's rul4t. Kathlyn could have cried (To Be Continued Tomorrow) THE AUGUSTA HERALD. AUGUSTA, GA. | loHH DEAK . 2 HALL WE Pur) CNAVt! ID9/ITLIKE ) EAST AV, NORWALK --• Y? vj ' COAW Mr. Bungalow has just been given a vacation, and the whole Bungalow family arc off for a rest cure in the coun try. Pure air and good food, with scenery thrown in almost free—that's the stuff. Tomorrow—but look at Powers’s picture and see for yourself. « THE TORTURES OF JEALOUSY Lewaschow wan writing a jjreat drama in five acts entitled “The Tortures of J Jealousy,” but be got stuck towards the end of the second act, in which the hero : Karbasnikow suspects his wife of faith- . Icssncss and overwhelms her with re- J proaches. . The leproaches had flown very readily from Lewasohow s pen, hut when it was the turn of the wife to say something to justify herself his genius •failed him. “The devil only knows what a wife; will say in a situation like that.” he thought, chewing his penholder furious- Iv. "I am thirty-six now and have not the slightest idea of what a wife who (returns from a clandestine meeting with her lover will answer to a husband ; who has found her out. And how should 1 know?” As a matter of fact Isewaschow had never the slightest reason to suspect nia Wyerotchka. •What a pity that she has gone out! for ft walk.” he thought, “otherwise \ might have asked her. Of course, she has no reason to try to Justify herself and assure me of her loyalty, but she is a woman and knows the ways of woman j better than l do. He threw down his pen and began . to read from his play: Kurbasnlkow (threatening): “I know everything. Do not try to lie to me. i i know every jingle detail and the small- j est lie will only add to your guilt. Tell j me the truth. Do you come from the arms of your lover now?” Mary—(Remains stubbornly silent and states at her shows without once rais ing her eyes.) Karbasnlkow —"Why don't you speak?! You do not imagine that your silence will ' convince me of your Innocence when 1 • have a right to demand an answer to my question. Speak.” He takes hold of her arm violently.) “What is his name? 1 want to know the name of the man who has dared soil my honor.” Mary (speaks in a voice broken by sobs.) Hut Lewaschow did not know what to make Mary say between her sobs. He imagined that a woman under similar circumstances would swear that she was Innocent and that she is a victim of some slandering friend who is jealous of her. There is always a friend to blame, lie now thought of making a scene wiih his jerotchka. Of course she would be Indignant and say just the words he needed for Mary who is really as In nocent and pure as an age! and only the Victim of a shameless intrigue. The thought of experimenting with Wyerotchka refused to leave his hrnln and he resolved to carry it mit when she returned from the walk she was sure i to give him words for the great * Umax of I the second act. In the meantime he j went to work on tlie third act. An hour or passed and he had j already flniaheii several scenes of the . third act. In which the hero meets the slanderer of his wife’s honor, when the doorbell rings Lewaschow hurriedly puis aside his manuscript and begins pacing up and down the floor of his • study, Hi*. wife enters quite flushed with the exHtement of her brisk walk and he makes a rush for her. “1 know everything.” he roars. “Do - not try to lie to me I know every sin gle detail and tHe smallest lie will only add to >our guilt Tell tne the truth Do you come straight from the arms of your lover now?” Kverythlit* went swimmingly WJqfot* j chka was scared out of her wits and quite pale began to retreat towards the door, not daring to look at her hue!mml had undoubtedly been told every* j thing. “It Is that false serpent of Tshltsch- | klne who has betrayed me ” she thought. “She is jealous because she is in love' with Kolguschkin herself. “Tell me the truth. Do >©u corns from your lovtf?’ WJerctchka still remained silent She could not get any further away because she had closed the door and like Mary ' In the play she dared not raise her eyes from the floor. t.ewafohow went on quoting his pay Which he knew quite b\ heart “Why don't you speak? You don’t imagine that your silence will convince me of your innocence when 1 have a Tight to demand an answer to my ques tions. Speak.” THE BUNGALOW’S RESCUE He caught hold of her arm so v iolently that she winced with pain. ‘‘What is his name. i want to know tiie name of the man who has dared soil my honor.” v ' “He will kill me—l had better an swer,” Wjerotchka thought and even before her ht&shand had finished his pas sionate outburst sell sobbed: "His name is Kolguschkin.” “So his name is Kolguschkin,” roared Lewaschow, who quite forgot himself in the part of the hero of his drama and did not even remmemner that there was no such name in it, while there was a certain young Kolguschkin among their acquaintances. . "Then you were with him?” “Yes,” whispered Wjerotchka and be gan to tremble all over, expecting her husband to strike her down with his fists. “You confess.” roared Lew’aschow. “What did you do? Did he kiss you?” “Yes. he has kissed me. 1 am not made of ice. I couid not resist him. “Wolodja,” she cried and threw herself down on iier knees, “forgive me. do not kill me.” First 1 want to hear you tell the whole truth.” cried Lewaschow and flung her aside. Swear that your unfaithfulness was an accident and that you have visit ed him for the first and last time.” “Yes, it will be the last time. I swear thru Wolodja. This Kolguschkin must njt destroy our happiness.” "What Kilguschkin.” burst out Lew ah hew suddenly interrupting her con fession. Now that he saw a way to get a climax for his second act he suddenly discovered the name. “His name is not Ko’guschkln at all. but Dschaparidse and lie is a Caucasian.” “Wolodja. that is not true. Iknow no Dschaparidse. If my friend aas to. J you a wrong name ” “1 don’t understand you at all now,” exclaimed Lewaschow. “There is no friend in my play. The husband suspects his wife of deceiving him with Dschapa ridse- but Kolguschkin.” he exclaimed in a changed voce, “so you have a love affair with that fool Kolguschkin. whom 1 never could bear. My, God, what must I hear?” Now it was Wjertchka’s turn to under stand nothing “Didn’t Tschltchkina write an annoy moua letter to you then?” she exclaim ed and crept up to the chair into which Lcwaschew had thrown himselm. She was still on her knees. "I do not know of any letter. 1 only wanted to play a scene from my drama with you and you confess tiiat you haye been deceiving me with Kolguschkin." “Wo’doja,” sobbed Wjerotchka, con vinced that nothing but a fainting spell could save her now. While recovering consciousness she would think of some scheme, but just then the doorbell rang and prevented her from carrying out her plan. “It Is Kolguschkin,” she thought for •be had just arranged that he should call. “Get up,” said Lekas how icily. “Somehod\ is coming and I want no scandal. You may explain later.” Kolguschkin entered, suspecting noth ing He was stylishly dressed and cams fresh from his hairdresser's. •'The foppish monkey.” thought Lew is* how and went for him. “Listen In my new drama the hus band without any reason suspects his wife of being unfaithful to him with a scoundrel of a Caucasian. To get best the effect of this scheme I overwhelmed my wife with reproaches and in her sur prise she confessed that she has Just come from you. What have you to say to this, sir?” “I can only say that she told >ou the truth.” said the Inwardly greatly per turbed Kolguschkin very calmly and stated shamelessK Into Lewaschow’* face Wjerotchka came very near faint ing in real earnest. “I deserve your contem;t.‘ went on Kolguschkin. “and place myself entirely at your disposal. ’ “A duel,” thought Wjerotchka and In her mind she saw herself standing at the window looking at ner husband re turning Into the house while Koigwchf kin’s dead body was carried away on n streacher. “I shall fight no duels with you.” roar ed Lewaschow. “You are a scourdrel who ha s robbed me of my wife and abused my confidence to seduce her. You like a dog.” “That is all I need.” said Kolgusch kin with a magnfieent gesture. “What do you mean, sir?” “Please calm yourself, sir, and I will explain. You are writing a drama I am writing a novel. You needed a scene of jealousy' “ “And you needed my wife's love ” “No. sir. I only needed a model of a cowardly and brutal husband. I have been used always to associate with gen tlemen and men of honor and was try ing to find out how common people who are too cowardly to fight a duel would behave. After I have played this scene with you I feel certain that this inci dent will make a hit in my book. I thank you very much, sir.” “How.” stammered Lewaschow'. “then your confession was only acting?” And Wjerotchka’s confession?” “Acting too. I had the pleasure of meeting your wife in the street and ask ed her to help me with an incident in my novel. If you would have given her a "chance to explain she would have told you so herself” ’ “And her visit to your room?” “Fiction. Do I look like a man, a woman like your wife would fall in love with?” “I must say he Is clever,” thought Wjerotcnaka. “I fee! like kissing him right here,” and she drew a breath oi relief. “A very' *ympathetic young man after all.” thought Lewaschow an hour later he read the two first acts aloud to his wife and Kolguschkin. BIG YEAR IN CHURCH BUILDING (New York Sun.) Reports received here front various I arts of the country indicate that this will be a busier season in church building than for 10 years past, de spite the talk of financial and indus trial depression. Contracts thus far let call for structures that will cost between $"5.- 000,000 and $40,000,000. While all of this money may not be spent upon tho buildings before the end of the year, contract* uncompleted at the begin ning of the season will make the total expenditure this year approximately $40,000,000. The Roman Catholics are among the most active this season. They are following the pattern of Vienna, Paris and Rome, in multiplying the number of parishes in large cities, feeling that their parishes in many cases are too large. In the Southern states much building of Catholic churches is going on. The Episcoi aliens are also active. They are building cathedrals in sev eral important cities. TheC'hristian Scientists report fewer building pro jects this year than formerly. New York will spend from $5,000,- 000 to $8,000,000 this summer, chiefly on Manhattan Island. Chicago has on hand some $",000,000 in church projects. The South and Southeast, New England and Rock Mountain re gions report the largest number of projects, although In many cases the amounts involved are small. THE HARDNESS OF WATER (From the American Magazine.) Here Is a fan which is probably novel th the average man who has not spent much of his life thinking about motor speed boats. This is what we may call the hardness of the water when a boat Is running at speed Water at 50 miles an hour is not the limpid liquid we are accus tomed to bathe in. If you put your arm overboard from a hydroplane run ning at 50 miles an hour and strike a wake crest the probability Is that you will break your arm or wrist, be cause at that speel the water has not time to give, not time even to change shape, and striking it is like striking so much metal. In the great hydraulic mining uni ties. where a stream of water under WEDNESDAY. JULY 10. enormous head is used to wash down hillsides, a swordsman, in attempting to cut into one of these streams, will shatter the sword without being able to penetrate the water. The stream is like a bar of iron. that water at relative speed is so hard — or that its inertia is so great, to be a little more accurate—is the reason why a skipping stone travels over the surface, and is the reason why a hydroplane Blides over the surface Instead of plowing its way through. The picture w r e must have in our minds, then, of a speed boat is that it is traveling not in water, as we ordinarily understand it. but over the surface of a semi solid, very much as a sled travels over snow. The hardness of water at 50 miles an hour we might compare with the hardness of cheese—at rest. THE MANLY ART (From the Troy Standard Press.) Recent and current outpourings hum smug suuis condemning popular interest in a certain Parisian event cave once more demonstrated how many there are unauie ir unwilling to ditterentiate between boxing and prize-fighting. The arguments in favor of boxing as an exercise for creating and main taining maniy vigor and good iieau.i woulu fill a boon. Tne giove game comes as near as any sport to devel oping evenly all the muscles oi me body. Another virtue oi boxing is in developing the capacity ior quick thinking. The boxer who permits ms wits to go wool-garnering is nkeiy u be awakened by a stiff punch. The co-operation between mind and body which Is one of the marks of toe suc cessful man is encouraged by boxing as by few other sports. Even base ball is inferior in this respect, tor few plays in the national pastime are pull ed off with such startlug suddenness as marks the actions of a clever boxer. Quickness in thought, swiftness in putting the thought into action —what would not any ambitious man give to attain these qualities? Yet both may be accomplished by persistent prac tice with the gloves. Development of self-control is an other pronounced virtue of tile manly art. The man who flies in a rage at the slightest provocation, who finds It impossible to control his temper, and who realizes that these faults are calcuated to ruin and embitter his whole life and keep him constant ly In hot water, could not do better than to place himself in the hands of a good teacher of boxing. VICARIOUS SACRIFICES TO DRESS We seem to be burning up our little girls for the sake of style in clothes. While babies there are about the same number of losses of life from burning among girls as boys, but as soon as they are dressed differently the per centage of girls rises. Statistics kept in England for five years show that of the deaths of children from burns up to the age of 1 year there were 2i4 boys and 234 girls; from 1 to 4 1,663 boys and 1.818 girls; from 4 to 5, 368 boys and 775 girls; from 5 to 10, 389 boys and 1.427 girls, and from 10 to 20. 80 boys and 636 girls. The girls burned to death in England in that period of five years, in excess of the boys, numbered 1.620. If the sam ratlo holds true in the I'nited State, we are losing nearly a thousand youn; girls by horrible deaths every year by. reason of their style of clothing.—Da; laa News.