Newspaper Page Text
TUESDAY. FEBRUARY 24.
THE ABYSMALBRUTE
PROLOGUE.
Few author* living today have
the and directness, the
rugged strength and vitality of
style of Jack London. This new
novel is one of his best. It is a
story of the prise ring, a real
man's story, big and vigorous
end thrilling. Behind the tense
fife, the excitement of the fight
itself, one can si e in reading
it the crookedness, the devious
ways of the keen witted men who
stage the big fight and reap the
profits. More than this, one can
see into the soul of the Abys
mal Brute himself, one of the
strangest, most human and fas
cinating characters London has
ever drawn, a bruiser who is a
scholar as well, who is honest
and clean and innocent up to
the moment of his disillusion
ment —a veritable cross section
of a strange phase of American
life.
(Continued from Yesterday.)
“It dH." tie agreed. “But you didn't
know it would. In all the world you
and I were at least two that knew
Powers wouldn't be knocked out in the
sixteenth."
She remained silent
“I say you knew he wouldn’t.”
He spoke peremptorily and. when
she still declined to speak, stepped
nearer to her.
“Answer me,” he commanded.
She nodded her head.
“But he was.” she insis: ed.
“He wasn't. lie wasn't knocked out
at all. Do you •„>, hat? lam going
to tell you about it and you are going
to listen. I didn’t lie to you. Do you
get that? I didn't lie to you. I was
a fool and they fooled me and you
along with me.
“You thought you saw him knocked
out. Yet the blow I struck rrtis not
heavy enough. It didn’t hit him in
the right place either. He made be
lieve it did. lie faked that knockout.”
He paused and looked at her expect
antly, and somehow, with a leap and
thrill, she knew that she believed him.
and 5.3 felt pervaded by a warm hap
plneas rat the reinstatement of this
man who meant nothing to her and
whom she had seen but twice in her
life.
“Well?” he demanded, and she thrill
ed anew at the compellingness of him.
She stood up, and her hand went out
to his.
“I believe you,” she said. “And I
am glad, most glad.”
It was a longer grip than she hnd
anticipated. He looked at her with
eyes that burned and to which her
own unconsciously answered back.
Never was there such a man, was
her thought. Her eyes dropped first,
and his followed, so that, as before,
both gazed at the clasped hands.
He made a movement of his whole
body toward her. impulsive and invol
untary, as if to gather her to him.
then checked himself abruptly with
an unmistakable effort. She saw it
and felt the pull of his hand as it
started to draw her to him.
And to her amazement she felt the
desire to yield, the desire almost over
whelmingly to be drawn into the
strong circle of those arms. And had
he compelled she knew that she would
not have refrained.
She was almost dizzy when he
checked himself and. with a closing of
his fingers that half crushed hers,
dropped her hand, almost flung it from
him.
“God.” he breathed; “you were made
for me!"
He turned partly away from her.
sweeping his hand to his foreheud.
She knew she would hate him forever
if he dared one stammered word of
apology or explanation.
But he seemed to have the way al
ways of doing the right thing where
she was concerned. She sank into het
chair, and he Into another, first draw
ing it around so as to face her across
the corner of the desk.
•‘1 spent last night in a Turkish
bath.” he said. “I sent for an old bro
ken down bruiser He was a friend
of my father in the old day*. I knew
there couldn’t be a thing about the
ring he didn't know, and I made him
talk.
•'The funny thing was that it was nil
1 could do to convince him that I
didn't know the things I asked him
about. He called me the babe in the
woods. 1 guess he was right I was
raised In the woods, and woods is
about all 1 know.
■‘Well I received an education from
tbnt old man last night. The ring Is
rottencr than you told me. It seems
everybody connected with it is crook
ed The very supervisors that grant
the fight permits graft off of the pro
moteto. and the promoters, managers
and fighters graft ofiT of each other and
off the public.
••it's down to a system in one way,
and on the other hand, they’re always
_d„ know what the double cross
l„v she nodded. “Well, they don't
seem to miss a chance to give each
other the double cross.
"The stuff that old man told me took
mv breath away. And here I've been
in the thick of it for several years and
nothing "Lit. 1 EA3 a
By JACK LONDON
In the woods' And yet 1 can see how
I've been fooled. I was *o made that
nobody could stop ro*. I was bound
to win, and, thanks to Btubener, every
thing crooked was kept away from
me.
"This morning I cornered Bptder
Walsh and made him talk. He was
my first trainer, you know, and he
followed Stubener's Instructions. They
kept me in ignore new Beside*, I didn't
herd with the sporting crowd 1 spent
my time bunting and fishing and mon
keying with cameras and such things.
“Do you know what Walsh and
Btubener called me between them
selves? The virgin. I only learned it
this morning from Walsh, and it was
like pulling teeth. And they were
right. I was a little innocent lamb.
“And Stubener was using me for
crookedness, too, only I didn't know
It I can look back now and see how
it was worked. But you see. I wasn't
Interested enough in the game to be
suspicious.
“I was born with a good body and a
cool head. 1 was raised In the open,
and 1 was taught by my father, who
knew more about fighting than any
man, living or dead. It was too easy.
The ring didn't absorb me. There wns
never any doubt of the outcome. But
I’m done with it now.”
She pointed to the headline announc
ing his match with Tom Cannam.
“That’s Stubener’s work,” he ex
plained. “It was programmed months
ago. But I don’t care. I'm heading
for the mountains. I’ve quit”
She glanced at the unfinished inter
view on the desk and sighed.
“How lordly men are,” she said.
“Masters of destiny. They do as they
please”—
“From what I’ve heard,” he inter
rupted, “you've done pretty much aa
you please. It’s one of the things l
like about you. And what haR struck
me hard from the first was the way
you and 1 understand each other.”
He broke off and looked at her with
burning eyes.
“Well, the ring did one tiling for
me,” he went on. “It made me ac
quainted with you. And when yon
find the one woman there’s Just one
thing to do—take her in your two
hands and don’t let go. Come on, let
us start for the mountains.”
It had come with the suddenness of
a thunderclap, and yet she felt that
f _
“I don’t dare,” she said in a whisper.
she bad been expecting It. Her heart
was beating up and almost choking
her in a strangely delicious way. Here
at least was tbe primitive and the
simple with a vengeance. Then. too.
it seemed a dream. Such things did
not take place In modern newspaper
offices. Love could not be made in
such fashion; It only so occurred on
the stage and In novels.
He had arisen and was bolding out
bojh hands to her.
'FI don't dare,” she snld in a whis
per, half to berself. “I don't dare."
And thereat she was stung by the
quick contempt that Unshed In his eyes
but that swiftly changed to open in
credulity.
“You’d dare anything you wanted."
he was saying. ”1 know that. It’s not
a case of dare, but of want. Do you
want?"
She bad arisen and was now sway
ing as If in a dream. It flashed Into
her mind to wonder If It were hypno
tism.
She wanted to glance about her lit
the familiar objects of the room In
order to Identify berself with reality,
but she could not take her eyes from
bis. Nor did she speak.
He hnd stepped beside her. His
hand was on her arm. and she leaned
toward him Involuntarily.
It was all part of tbe dream, and It
wns no longer hers to question any
thing. It was the great dare.
He was right She could dare what
she wanted, and she did want. He
was helping her Into her jacket. She
was thrusting the bat pins through
her hair.
And even as she realized It, she
found berself walking beside him
through the opened door.
The “Flight of the Duchess” and
“Tbe Statue and the Bust” darted
through her mind. Then she remem
b»-r<"i "WarjngJi
"•What's becoms of Waring?'" she
murmured.
“‘Land travel or se* faring?”* he
murmured back.
And to her this kindred sufficient
note was n vindication of her mad
ness.
At the entrance of the building he
raised his hand to call a taxi, but was
stopped by her touch on his arm.
“Where are we going?” she breathed.
“To the ferry, We’v* Just time to
catch that Sucfftmetito train.”
“But I can't go this way,” she pro
tested. “I—l haven’t even a change
of handkerchiefs."
He held up his hand again before
replying.
“You can shop in Sacramento. We’ll
get married there and catch the night
overland north. I’ll arrange every
thing by telegraph from the train.”
Aa the cab drew to the curb she
looked quickly about her at the famil
iar street and the familinr throng,
then, with almost n flurry of alarm,
into Oletidon's face.
“I don’t know a thing about you,”
she said.
“We know everything about each
other,” was his answer.
She felt the support and urge of his
arms and lifted her foot to the step.
The next moment the door had
closed, he wns beside her and the cab
was heading down Market street.
He passed his arm around her, drew
her close and kissed her. When next
she glimpsed his face she was cer
tain that it was dyed with a faint
blush.
“I—l’ve heard there was an art In
kissing,” he stammered. “I don’t
know anything about It myself, but
I’ll learn. You see, you're the first wo
man I ever kissed.”
CHAPTER X.
WHERE a jagged peak of rock
thrust above the vast vir
gin forest reclined a man
and a woman. Beneath
them, on the edge of the trees, were
tethered two horses. Behind each
saddle were a pair of small saddle
bags. •
The trees were monotonously huge.
Towering hundreds of feet into the
air, they ran from eight to ten and
twelve feet in diameter. Many were
much larger.
All morning they had toiled up the
divide through this unbroken forest,
and this peak of rock hnd been the
first spot where they could get out of
the forest in order to see the forest.
Beneath them and away, fur as
they could see, lay range upon range
of haze empurpled mountains. There
was no end to these ranges. They
rose one behind another to the dim.
distant skyline, where they faded
away with a vague promise of unend
ing extension beyond.
There were no clearings In the for
est North, south, east and west, un
touched, unbroken. It covered the land
with Its mighty growth.
They lay, feasting their eyes on the
sight, her hand clasped In one of his,
for this was their honeymoon, and
these were the redwoods of Mendo
cino.
Across from Shasta they had come,
with horses and saddlebags, and
down through the wilds of the coast
counties, and they had no plan ex
cept to continue until some other
plan entered their beads.
They were roughly dressed—she In
travel stained khaki, he In overalls
and woollen shirt. The latter was
open at the sunburned neck, and in
his hugeness he seemed a lit dweller
among the forest giants, while for
her, as a dweller with him. there
were no signs of aught else but hap
piness. t
“Well. Big Man,” she said, propping
herself up on an elbow to gaze . ? him,
"It is more wonderful than you prom
ised. And we are going through It
together."
“And there’s a lot of the rest of (ho
world we'll go through together.” he
answered, shifting his position so as
to get her baud in both of Ills.
“But not till we’ve finished with
this," she urged "I seem never to
grow tired of the big woods—and of
you.”
He slid effortlessly Into a silting
posture and gathered her Into his urnis.
“Oh, you lover!" she whispered.
“And I had given up hope of finding
such a one.”
“And 1 never hoped at all I must
Just have known all the time that I
wus going to find you. Glad?"
Her answer was a soft pressure
where her hand rested on his neck,
and for long minutes they looked out
over the great woods and dreamed.
"You remember I told you how 1
ran away from the red haired school
teacher? That wns the first time I
saw this country I was on foot, hut
forty or fifty miles a day wus pluy for
me. I was a regular Indian.
“1 wasn't thinking about you then.
Gnine was pretty scarce In the red
woods, hut there was plenty of fine
trout. That wns when I camped on
these rocks. I didn't dreutn that some
day I'd he hack with you —YOU!"
"And he a champion of the ring,
too.” she suggested.
“No; 1 didn't think about that at
all. Dad had always told me 1 was go
ing to he. and I took It for granted.
You see, he was very wise. He wus a
great man.”
"But he didn't see you leaving the
ring.”
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA, GA.
HER DAY OUT
Charlie and I wore friends—only
friends Wo wore man and woman
of Dm rid and worldly at that.
Also w.• v. ore poor A young strug
gling civil engineer and a girl in so
ciety and without proa pacts, must be
classed, for matrimonul purposes, at
paupers.
I lived with an aunt of mine—a
serious aunt with one fixed purpoe*.
that of marrying mo off sucoesslully.
Shu had made all the necessary ar
rangements, as far as possible. I
know my fate. He was SO years of
age, stout and bearded, and possess
ed of a second rate title and a first
rate income. Charlie knew his fate.
He had had to see to It himself. Bhe
was a lady who had outlived tempta
tlon, a little difficult as to her tem
per, but possessed of a couple so thno.
Band a yenr. Neither of us was defi
nitely engaged as yea, but both fully
realized the situation. It was all the
better for us, for we felt so safe.
My feeling of security was so ab
solute that I only affected to be .prop
erly shocked when I’harlle suggested
that we should tnke advantage of one
of the last days of our freedom, and
should go for one long day's motoring
In the country.
The poor boy, had of course, no
car of his own. but ho had a very
handsome collection of friends, and
amongst them a man who would lend
him a beauty.
Wo were still In mid-May. He snld
we ought to run down to Surrey, see
some of the surrounding country,
start quite early, and come back fairly
late, since the evenings were so long.
I cannot say. with truth, that I con
sulted my aunt about this arrange
ment. I was 21 years of age, and
had so far, consulted someone or
other about every step in my life. If
Aunt Harriet were to have her way,
I should have, to consult Sir William
about every step in all my future
years. Just for once I consulted my
self, and I accepted with pleasure.
The day was perfect and our fun
a record of unalloyed success.
At Ford we had lunch, and our mo
tor required some trifling attention
from Charlie. Also we found time to
wander round the village, even to see
the old church.
I liked the old-world Inn better, a
charming place with a thatched root
and swinging sign. The village is
rather off the usual route, so we at
tributed quite a considerable amount
of attention. 1 began to have a hor
rible suspicion that we were being
mistaken for a honeymoon couple, for
the staff at the inn took us under al
most parental care. It was so ab
surd, when we were merely friends,
spending one fine day In a pretty part
of the country. It annoyed me exces
sively; and no doubt Charlie fully
shared my feelings.
I felt quite relieved when we start
ed for home. Most of the inhabitants
of the ,i lace gathered to see us off.
Then came the really embarrassing
moment. I was already in the cart
ringe. Charlie, after taking a general
look round at bearings and screws,
came round to my side to see that my
light dust rug was properly adjusted,
out us the way of tho wheel. Of
course I stepped over to see that no i
dangling fringe or ill-arranged cor
ner required tucking away. Just then
to our Intense disgust, we heard the
unmistakable elick of a camera, ati(l
became aware that some fiend in hu
man guise had made an excellent
picture of the group from the other
side of the street. I gazed almost
reproachfully at the demon photo
grapher—who looked quite a serious
person, one who should have been
above such childish Jokes—and we
sped away.
J suppose the gorse was yelloM
enough, and that the blue-bells had
not changed their color, as we went
homewards. But, as we drew near
London, the glamour faded, Chlrlle
became preoccupied with the pass
Ing traffic, and I began to wonder It
I had not done a rather foolish thing
1 had a nasty headache that evening,
and was glad not to have to go out
with Aunt Harriet.
And the weeks .passed on, and l
scarcely saw Charlie, and never saw
him alone. The only crumb of com
fort which fell to my share was that
Sir William whs in Germany. It
seemed such a nice, suitable place to
keep him in
Nothing whatever warned me that
I stood anywhere near the edge of a
precipice, until I found myself on the
brink.
One day I found Aunt Harriet In a
state of great excitement, because
she had received several packets of
picture-cards of picturesque villages
In Surrey.
I looked, Idly enough, at the packets
until my eyes fell on one with the
word Ford on the envelope, and my
apathy changed Into annoyance.
When you are trying to he sensible
and matter of act, It Is not. fair of
memory to bring back the sight and
thu scent of hedges of may blossom
especially when you are rnld-way
through July, and In London.
I opened the packet and looked at
the cards. They were the work of a
local photographer, a tilt of an artist,
capable of a predating the beauties
of his home. Here was the bridge
over the river, the bridge on which
we had leaned and watched the wily
brown trout In the clear water. Here
was the winding Irregular street
here the thatched hams, almost black,
in the depth of their shadows. One
card showed the exterior of the old
church.
And last how shall I attempt to
describe my feelings?—came the
courtyard of the Bugle Inn. Evident
ly the artist had considered that
nothing would so emphasize the anti
quity of the seventeenth century
building as to contrast It with one
of the most modern of all phenome
na; so he had chosen to photograph
the picturesque hoateriy at the very
moment in which the newest of mo
tor cars stood by Its rose-covered
porch.
The result was an excellent photo,
too good by half. Everything stood
out most clearly; mine host In sport
lug tweed* and gaiters, the buxont
maid of the Inn, a copule of hayrnnk
era, and a group of village urcnlus
ull were very good portraits. And
the motor? It came out best of all,
ala*. I knew no one could mistake
tlie identity of the girl on tho front
seat, bending over opparently to
speak to the man standing by her
side. Undoubtedly it was as good a
.photgraph of myself as I have ever
had, and almost satisfactorily of
Charlls.
I stood petrified, with the highly
Incriminating document in my band
What could I do? If Aunt Harriet
saw it—and sho was working her
way through her packet at a sinful
rate—shs was hound to recognize ms.
She must not «ea It. I hid It In a
hook, handed her the rest of tho
curds and found myself obliged to
go out on a most tmportont errand
at that very Instant.
I uhi not sure whether It was quits
the proper thing for me to call at the
offices, In Victoria Street, of a young
engineer. I only know that I did It.
Charlie wns there, vastly surprised at
my visit. He looked pale and over
worked; 1 felt sure that the person
with the couple of thousands a year
had been worrying him. 1 wns so In
dlgnnnt with her that 1 almost forgot,
for one moment, the tragic Import
ance of my errand. But at last I
showed him the card.
"Charlie, what can 1 do? She Is
bound to see It? Even If I burn
this one. Fate Is so malicious that at
least a dozen kind friends will send
It to her for her collection.”
He looked very grave. “There are
Just two things to do, Nellie.”
He had never called me Nellie be
fore. Aunt Harriet dleapproved of
shortened names.
"One Is the right thing and one la
the wrong.”
“You had better tell me the wrong
first,” I said. "I am almost sure to
choose that.”
“Well the wrong thing Is for me to
go down to Ford and try to buy all
the stock, and have a shot at getting
the photographer to destroy the
plate.”
“And what Is the right thing?" I
asked.
Do yon not know yet? I learnt It
on the day we drove down under tho
shadow of the pine trees, through tho
broom and the gorse. The right thing
is to go to your aunt and to tell her
that we love each other and that we
do not mean to throw our happiness
away for the sake of money."
“Charlie you are forgetting that we
have been firmly deciding to be sen
sible.”
"I know wo have. We have mads
up our minds to put cottonwood into
our oars, not to hear the call of the
Spring, and to close our eyes lest we
should read Nature's message to us.
But —we couldn’t do It .Darling, I
want to have you by my side. If we
can't afford a motor, we can walk It,
and amell the gorse, and see tho ferns
uncrumple ”
"And be generally foolish," I added,
GOOD ADVERTISING
Means More Business-More Dollars
Mr. Merchantman, have you ever felt the wonder
ful power of good advertising? Many is the man who
who has been searching in the dark for this wonder
ful magnet which pulls new business to one’s store
and office.
Many is the man who has fooled himself with
an argument something in this fashion —“I’m only
a small merchant— I can’t afford good advertising be
cause good things cost money, but then I must keep
my name before the people somehow.” And with
no more definite idea than this he begins to buy va
rious kinds of “jimcracks” with his name printed on
them. He receives every solicitor who happens along
soliciting “ads” for this or that “special” occasion.
Without any system or plan he spends (or should we
say donates) $5 here and $lO there and $25 another
place, until in the entire year he lias expended a
right tidy sum.
And has he kept his name before “the people?”
A few—very few- at least the ones to whom he paid
his money.
Mr. Merchantman, why not apply the force of
godd advertising this spring season? Have a system.
Have a plan. Use good advertising- Herald adver
tising. The kind of advertising which reaches every
man’s home and every man’s office in this city.
It is continuous advertising in The Herald that
brings the largest returns.
Even if it’s only a small Herald want ad, you
can employ its wonderful selling force for this is
good advertising because The Herald carries your
message into many homes.
Henry Ward Beecher’s Farm Creed
We believe that soil likes to eat as
well as its owner, and ought, there
fore, to he liberally fed.
We believe In large cn>ps which
leave tho land better than they found
It—making the farmer and tho farm
both glad at once.
Wo hellovo in going to the bottom
of things, and, therefore, in deep
plowing and enough of It. All the
hotter with a subsoil plow.
Wo believe that every farm should
own a good farmer.
We believe that the best fertilizer
for any soil Is a spirit of industry,
enterprise aud Intelligence. Without
this, lime and gypsum, bones and
green manure, marl and guano will
be of little use.
half laughing, half crying.
It waa all very well in Charlie's of
fice; but we had to back and face
my aunt.
We went and stood before her like
a pair of guilty children and told hes
the tnith.
“A pair of fools.” said Annt Han
rlet, trying to make herself appear
more angry than she waa. “Aunt
Harriet, it 1a a shame to waste Sir
William. I believe he only thought
of me heraußc I was your niece. Now
why not keep him for yourself, and
lei nie put up with Charlie. "I believe
that la how it will end Aunt Har
riet haa some very fine Germany post
cards and Charlie and I are savink to
wards a motor.
PLAY AS A DETERRENT OF
CRIME
(Columbia S>ate.)
John Brinkley, a Wisconsin county
Judfe, merely gave testimony corrob
orative of reason and genera! obser
vation when he testified to a state
vice commission that the establish
ment. of playgrounds had reduced Ju
venile crime by 30 per cent.
The fnnt Is that there Is no such
thing as Juvenile crime. The young
break laws, but law* wore never mado
for the young, or should not have
been made for them. The young
nnimalH needs activity. It demands
It as It grows with the same passion
of hunger that It craves sustenance,
of which tho chief Item la aomething
that is sweet. Activity lm| lies nov
elty, and new experience, and new
thought, It is a discovered. The dif
ference between the child who hRH
things to discover In the way ot
action provided for it and the one
who must make his own discoveries
unaided la simply the difference in
tho things discovered.
After a while the country is going
to wake up to the fact that ehe slums
exist simply because there is for
yoipiK slum dwellers no hunting
ground for sensation outside of the
slums. A young fox stays within tho
radius of his legs in the community
In which he was born; the young hu
man, no more than the fox, gets away
from his environment, unless his In
telligence Is Invited and his desires
cajoled to do so.
We believe In good fences, good
barns, good farmhouses, good stock,
good orchards, and children enough
to gather the fruit.
We believe in a clean kitchen, a
neat wife In it, a spinning wheel, A
clean cupboard, a clean dairy and a
clean conscience.
We Wrraly disbelieve in farmers
that will not Improve; In farms that
grow poorer every year; in starving
cattle; In farmers' boys turning Into
clerks amt merchants; In farmers
daughters unwilling to work, and la
all furmers ashamed of their vocation
or who drink whiskey until honest
people are ashamed of them
NEW MAIL CATCHER
(Ln« Angels* Express.)
Farmers soon may be able to *•*
their niwket-bound cartons of eggs
picked up in front of their farm* by
n mall train traveling at «0 miles »n
hour without the least couoevn re
garding possible breakage of a Single
In th« conMicnment.
Tests that have been made with the
Jones automatic mall -retching deielce.
which whs given » final try-out yes
terday by the railway mall serrloa
commission, have proved that oarton*
of eggs can be picked up or deliv
ered by a train moving at the rate or
SO miles an hour. _
At present tho only tiling to Aim
In the way of realisation of this
scheme Is the rule whtoh provides that
parcel post ivtokagea mu*t be mailed
at a regular station- This, however,
may be obviated, for the government
already has Installed the (1 O. D. feat
ure «n<l bj arrangement wtth regular
customers the collection of the cost of
mailing could be left to tho govern
ment.
By this means the producer might
ship bis produce dally direct from his
farm to the city without going to
town to mall the package through a
postoffloe.
Thd device may be adopted through
out the United States.
EVERY LITTLE HELPS IN A LEAN
YEAR.
Tho leader of Tammany knows ac
curately Juat how many votes t-hero
are In his organization, and Just
where the owners of those votes re
side. ..
There are not. as many of those
votes as there used to be.
Further depletion might return a
crtsla In the affairs of Tammany
Hall.
The district In which the Inmates
of an apartment house were lfftely
salvaged was a strong Tammany dis
trict.
Mr. Charles Francis Murphy did the
salvaging.
If this be logic, make the most
of it.
Pearl The tall young man with the
serious face says he has a train of
thought. I wonder what kind of cars
are on the train?
Albert—All sleepers, I gusss. H® Is
front Philadelphia.
FIVE