Bemidji Daily Pioneer Newspaper, January 28, 1921, Page 2

- THE BEMIDJI DAILY PIONEER ) FRIDA‘Y EVENING, JANUARY 28, lqzl' BEMIDJI DAILY PIONEER PUBLISHED EVERY AFTERNOON EXCEPT SUNDAY | THE BEMIDJI PIONEER PUBLISHING CO. E. H. DENU, Sec. and Mgr. G. E. CARSON, President g J. D. WINTER, City Editor y G. W. HARNWELL, Editor Telephone 922 Bntered at the postoffice at Bemidji, Minnesota, as ‘second-class matter, | under Act of Congress of March 3, 1879. No attention paid to anonymous contributions. Writer's name must be known to the editor, but not necessarily for publication. Communica- tiohs for the Weekly Pioneer must reach this office not later than Tuesday of each week.to insure publication in the current issue. SUBSCRIPTION RATES By Carrier By Mail One Year Six Months Three Months h 8:: %‘l::l‘fi 15 Three Months THE WEEKLY PIONEER—Twelve pages, published every Thursday | and sent postage paid to any address fcr, in advance, $2.00. OFFICIAL COUNTY AND CITY PROCEEDINGS —_— THE KAISER STILL GETS HIS i It is said that the former German kaiser employes morei {than sixty servants and is regularly supph'ed‘with huge sums of money from the fatherland. Of course, it is commendable to endeavor to raise money in the United States to feed the desti- tute population of Europe, but zest would be added to the cam-, paign for funds if a little different treatment were accorded the man responsible for their deplorable condition. 0 NO ONE DISCIPLINED ‘ . - Dispatches tell us that the fire which destroyed census bu- reau records had its origin in the carpgnter shop in the base; ment, which shop was filled with shavings. No report yet of} the discharge of the custodian of the bu\ldu}g. for permlmrég; the accumulation of the shavings. ‘Pex_'haps it'is necessary toj appoint another committee of investigation. g THREE BETTER I:.EAS(:?S - . McAdoo says the Democratic party was efe: | throu]gl!; tl:eclack of organization of publicity service. W% can give him three better reasons for the defeat: one, Woodrow Wilson ; two, Newton D.. Baker; three, W. G. McAdoo. o $100,000,000 TO JAPAN e The United States sent nearly one hundred million dollars in gold to Japan last year to settle the adverse bal.:mceysy of! trade. Wouldn't it be better to buy it “Made in America? il A(ZHANGE.CO(I{AI!:}(I.'.t ot el One thing seems to be admitted—that most o our immi- gmtio;‘eevils goul(l be overcome by proper gnforcement of the| law. And the people voted for the installation of a new lot of enforcers. 3 0 \ BARLEYCORN'S BUDDY "There is & movement on foot to transfer enforcement of the Internal Revenue Bureau to Attorney General Palmer. ‘That should be good news for the wets. —0; You may have noticed that a second-hand automobile has; never been run more than enough to demonstrate its quali i O Some women are not going to be happy in Heaven if they! are not allowed to change the furniture around at least once a week. o Many a person who does not care especially for music be-| comes interested in the offertory when the collection is being! taken. 0 To have to pay an income tax is unpleasant, of course, but, not nearly so much so as not having enough income to warrant a tax. e g i An expert asserts that government economy is necessary to lower taxes. One not an expert could pretty nearly arrive at that conclusion. ' et g The man who {ries to create the impression that he is busy is generally the one who always has time to tell how the gov-, ernment should be run. B : The proposal' of Senator Kenyon to tag the lobbyists must| be for the protection of the new members of congress who will| soon be going to Washington in all their political verdancy. OVERHEARD BY EXCHANGE EDITOR If the whole world would go to work there would be a mighty lessening | of troubles, famine starvation—and the dogs of war would find very little| fat to chew on.—Mankato Daily Free Press. | — | Some folks hate to advertise in The News for fear they might have t hire another clerk.—Northern News. AL e An advertisement describes a new novel thus: man who went broke.” Herald. : ! “It tells of a young Let's all buy it and read our life story.—Little Falls| Why the Editor Beat It. \ (From the Marengo Republican-News) Baptist Church. 7:30 p. m.—Popular evening service. and Idiots.” A large number are expected. They might at least have a poverty ball for the inauguration.—Chicago Daily Tribune. Subject, “Fools' - TR e | Some persons seem to thinly that they cannot radiate sunshine unless they are reinforced with moonshine.—St. Cloud Times. _Il' congress will really and truly and thoroughly probe the coal robbery that is going on every day, it will prove a boon, a pleasure and a great savin;: to the entire population. There’s need of reformation among the wholesale dealers. They surely have us by the throat.—Stillwater Gazette. Our admiration grows for Federal Judge Landis. He is the enemy of evil-doers and law violators. He is a fearless administrator of justice. Other| federal judges would do well to pattern after him and throw terror into the hearts of those who are defying the Constitution of the United States.— Mankato Free Press. A Pennsylv;njq lgurglar found his trade so poor that he tried to commit suicide. If the politicians would make profiteering equally difficult, honest citizens could begin to feel comfortable.—Polk County Leader. Probably & man’s beard is more persistent in growing because his face | gets a lot more exercise than the top of his head.—St. Cloud Daily Times. | i tune in Death . 'Ell's bells! " sick Chinaman. WEBSTER -MANS MAN & o Peter B.Xyne Author of “Cappy of the Giants,” Etc. T/ ¢ SYNOPSIS. CITAPTER I.—John Stuart Webster, mining engineer, after cleaning up a for- Valley, Calif., boards & train for the East. lie befrlends a young lady annoved by a masher, thoroughly trouncing the “pest.” CHAPTER IL—At Denver Webster re- es a letter from Billy Geary, his clos- t friend. Geary urges him to come to obrante, Central America, to finance 1d develop a mining claim. le Gecides W go. CHAPTER IIT. — Dolores Tuey, the young woman Webster befriended, and who has made a deep impression on him, as he has on her, Is also on the way to Sobrante. CHAPT) tal of Sobran niless, is living Jenl keeper of a_dramsliop. ceives a cablegram from Dolores, telling of her coming. (Continued From Last Issue) “Gord’s truth!” the lady murmured. “An’ e about to turn him adrift for the lawst fortnight! Well for 'im ‘e allers hadmired the picture o' my sainted 'Enery, as was the spittin® im age of his own fawther. ‘Evings But that was a bit of tight squeak! Just as I'm fully con- winced ‘e’s beat it an’ I'm left ’oldin’ the sack, all along o’ my kindness of ‘eart, ’e gets the cablegram ’‘e’s been lookin® for this two months pas good fortune in interceptiug Don Juau stairs to her chamber, clothed her- sclf, and adjourned to the kitchen. After giving orders for an extra spe- cial breakfast for two, Mother Jenks returned to her cantina, and formally | opencd the same for the business of that day and night. To her came presently, via the- tiled | hallway, the object of her solicitude, a.young man on the sunny side of thirty. | He was thiny for one of his height and breadth of chest; in color his countenance resembled that of a His hair .was thick and but lusterless; his dark blue eyes carried a hint of jaundice; and a generous mouth, beneath an | equally generous upper lip, gave am- ple ground for the suspiclon that while Mr. Willlam Gea speech denoted him an American zen, at least one of his maternal ancestors had been wooed and won by an Irishman. An old I'anama hat, sad relic of a pros- perous past, a pair of soiled buck skin pumps, a suit of unbleached linen cqually befouled, and last but not t, the remuants of a smile that rd luck could never quite ob- literate, completed his attire—and to one a stranger in the tropics would appear to constitute a complete inven- tory of Mr. Geary's possessions, “Dulce cornzon min, I extend a greeting,” he callel at the entrance. “L trust you rested well t night, Mother Jenks, and that no evil drestns were horn of Your midnight repast of frijoles refritos, marmalade, and arf- an®arf!” y “Chop yer spoofin’, Willie, Jenks simpered. “My heyel Mother So I'm i I '/x “Chop Your Spoofin’, Willle. yer sweetceart, eh? Yer wheedlin' Dlighter, makin' love to a girl as is old enough to be yer mother!” “A woman” Mr. Geary retorted sagely and not a whit abashed, “Is at the apex of her feminine charms at thirty-seven.” e knew his landlady to be not a ' day under fifty, but such is the ease with which the Irish secatter their blarney (hat velther Billy Geary nor i ing the telltale tinge of pleasure un- i | | ! harkened to a proposition to emigrate n’ e allers claimed as 'ow any time 'e got l ! a cablegram it'd be an answer to 'is| Yetter, with money to foller! My word, | | but that was touch an’ go!” Still congratulating herself upon her| ‘' heen sainted via the customary ex | Cafetero, Mother Jeuks procceded up- | | ! to stake you to a nice little pub back ks,” “The Valley oA TR Kyee ‘Mother .Jenks regarded ThisS pretty speech in the light of an observation fmmaterial, inconsequential and not germane to the matter at issue. Nev- crtheless, there was a deeper reason for his blarney. This morning, watch- derlying the alcohol-begotten hue of the good creature’s face, he felt af- most ashamed of his own heartless- | ness—almost,. but not quite. For two months he had existed en- tirely because of the lenieney of Moth- er Jenks in the matter of credit. He could not pay her cash, devoutly as he hoped to do some day, and he consid- ered it of the most 1 importance that in the interim he should some- how survive. Therefore, In lieu of cash he paid her compliments, which she snapped up greedily. An inventive genlus was Billy. He | never employed the same du[enslve‘ tacties two days in succession, and when personal flattery threatened to | fail him, a large crayon reproduction ; of the 1ate Henry Jenks, which hung over the back bar, was a never-failing | source of inspiration. 4 This was the “sainted -xnery” pre- | viously referred to by Mother Jenks. e had been a sergeant in Her Brit- tanic Majesty’s Royal Forse artillery, and upon retiring to the reserye had to Sobrante and accept a commission as colonel of artillery with the gov- ernment forces then in the throes of a | revolutionary attack. The rebels had | friumphed, and as a result *Enery had | peditious route; whercupon hiz wife had had recourse to her early profes- | sion of barmaid, and El Buen Amigo | had resulted. H However, let us return to our sheeps, as Mr. Geary would have ex- pressed it. Seemingly the effect of Billy's compliment was instantly evi- dent, for Motler Jenks:set out two glasses and a bottle. “1 know yer a trifler, Willy Geary,” she simpered, “but™t T'do &y it as shouldn't, I was decounted ns ’and- | some 4 barmald as you'd find in Bris- | tol town. I've lost my good looks, what with grief an’ worritin® sicce | losin’ my sainted 'Enery, but I was *andsome oucet.” i | “I can well helieve it, )lother—;—i since you are handsome still! For my | part,” he continued confidentially, as witii snaking nand be titled his brandy- glass, “you’ll excuse this drunkard's drink, Mother, but I need it; I had the! shakes again last night—for my part, | I prefer the full-blown rose to the| bua.” Mother Jenks fluttered like a debu- tante as she pourcd her drink. They! touched glasses, call d worldlings that they were. , He tossed off his drink.. It warmed ‘and strengthened him, after his night‘ of chills and fever, and brazenly he re- | turned to the attack, i “Changing the subject from feminine grace and charm to manly strength and virtue, I've been m: ing lately the resolute poise of your martyred hushand’s head on his fine military | shoulders. There was a man, if I may | Judge from his photograph, that would ! fight a wildcat.” i “Oh, m'ybe ‘e wouldn’t!” Mother | Jenks hastened to declare. “You know, Willie, T was present w’en they shot ¢ ’im, waitin® to claim 'is body. 'E Kisses me good-bye, an’ says 'e: ‘Brace up, ol’ girl. Remember your 'usband’s Deen a sergeant in Er Majesty’s Royal | | | *Orse artillery, an’ dou't let the bloody | blighters see yer cl Then ‘e walks | out front, with 'is fine straight back | to the wall, draws a circle on 'is blue | tunic with white chalk an' says:| ‘Shoot at that, yer yeller-bellicd bounders, an’ be d—a to yer!'” 1 “T be the widow of such a gallant | son of Mars,” Billy declared, “Is a | greater honor than being the wife of a | duke. Ah, Mother,” he added with a ! note of genuine gratitude and si cerity, “you've heen awfully good to. me. T don't know what I'd have done | without you." Tfe laif his iand ‘on her | fat arm. other, one of these days | Tl get mine, and when T do I'm going in Bristol She smiled at him with motherly | tenderness and shook her head. In a | conerete niche in the mortuary of the Catedral de la Vera Cruz the bones | of her sainted ‘Enery reposed, and | when her hour came she would lie be- | side him. “Yer him, « ore, v. Willie,” she told yer for double the ‘Eving knows T s'help en't much. but wot I 'ave I shares freely with them T likes.” Mother Jenks preceded him Into the * shady side of the veranda, where or- me. dinarily she was wont to breakfast in solitary state. ITer table was set for two this morning, however. Billy flipped an adventurous cockroach off the table and fell to with fine appetite. He was dallying with a special brew | of coffee, with condensed milk in it, when the Jamaica negro entered from the cantina to announce Don Juan Cafetero with a ceblgzram, | may be is a mystery to me. | rief was at the bottom of’the good R “Jenks cried, “Gord's truth! I'll wager thie pub it's for you, Willie. Bob”—turning to the negro, and addressing him in her own private brand of Spanish—“give Don Juan a drink, if 'e 'asn’t helped 'imself while yer back is turned, an’ bring the cablegram ‘ere.” Within the minute Bob returned with a long yellow envelope, which he handed Mother Jenks. Without so much as a glance at the syperserip- tion, she handed it to Billy Geary, who tore it open and read: “Los_Angeles, Cal, U. S. A, August 16, 1013, “Henrietta Wilkins, Calle de Con- cable \ cordia, No. 19, Buenaventura, So- brante, C. A. “Leaving today to visit you. Will cable from New Orleans exact date ! arrival, DOLORES.” The shadow of deep disappointment settled over Billy's face as' he read. Mother Jenks noted it instantly. “Wot's ’e got to s'y, Willie?” she de- 1 manded. | “It isn’t a he. It's a she,” Billy re- plied. “Besides, the cablegram isn't | for me at all. TIt's for one Henrietta | Wilkins, Calle de Concordia, No. 19, | and who the devil Henrletta Wilkins | Ever have | any boarder by that name, Mother?” Mother Jenks’ red face had gone white. “’Enrietta Wilkins was my | maiden nyme, Willle,” she confessed | soberly, “an’ there's only one human as 'ud cable me or write me by that nyme. Gord, Willle, wot’s "appened?” “I'll read it to" you, Mother.” Billy read the message aloud, and when le had finished, to his amaze- ment, Mother Jenks laid her head on the table and beégan to weep. CHAPTER V. Without quite realizing why he did so, Billy decided that fear and not creature’s distress, and in his awk- ward, masculine way he placed his | arm around Mother Jenks’ shoulders, shook her gently; and bade her remem- ber that chaos might come and go again, but he, the said Willilam Geary, would remain her true and steadfas friend in any and all emergencies that | might oceur. “Gor’ bless yer heart, Willie,” Moth- er Jenks sniffled. “I dunno wot in ‘el yer ever goin’ to think o’ me wen I tell wot I've been up to this past fif- teen year.” “Whatever you've been up to, Moth- | er, it was a kind and charitable deed | —of that much I am certain,” Billy replied loftily and—to his own sur- prise—sincerely. “As Gord is my judge, Willle, it started out that w’y,” moaned Mother Jenks, and she squeezed Billy’s hand ! as if from that yellow, shaking mem- her she would draw aid and comfort. “'Er nyme is Dolores: Ruey. ’Er fa- ther was Don Ricardo Ruey, presi- dent av this blasted "ell on earth w'en | me an® my sainted "Enery first come to | Buenaventura. 'E was too good for the yeller-bellied beggars; ’e tried to do somethink for them an’ run the gevernment on the square, an’ they couldn’t hunderstand, all along o' ’avin’ been kicked an’ cuffed by a long | line of bloody rotters. It was Don Ricardo as gives my sainted 'Enery ’is commission as colonel in the hartil- lety. “You've ‘eard me tell,” \,\luth?r Jenks continued, “’ow the rebels got ‘arf a dozen Hamerican gunners—de- serters from the navy—an’ blew ‘Enery’s battery to bits; 'ow the gov- ernment forces fell back upon Buena- ventura, qu’ as 'ow w’en the dorgs be- gun to wonder if they mightn’t lose, they quit by the ’undreds an’ went over to ‘the rebel side, leavin' Don Ricardo an’ 'Enery an’ m'vbe fifty o the gentry in- the palace. In course they fought to a finish; 'ristocrats, all of them, they 'ad to die fightin’ or facin’ a firin® squad.” *Billy nodded. He had heard the tale before, including the recital of the sainted 'Enery’s gallant dash from the The Sainted ’Enery’s Gallant Dash. nz palace in an effort to save Don o's only child, a girl of seven, . and of his capture and_subsequent execution. 3 { “That ended the revolution,” Moth- er Jenks continuued. “But ‘ere’s some- | think I've never told a livin' soul. | Shortly before 'Enery was hexecuted, | *e told me where 'e'd "id the youngster | —in a culvert out on the Malecon; so | i no heducation or nothink. i me. Buen Amigo to see me, an’ I cawn't. I *ired WigeTer @ir went oiif an' rescued the pore lamb. I 'id ’er until the harrival o’ the next fruit steamer, w'en I shipped ‘er to New Orleans in care o' the stewardess. Hi v’ad ’‘er \put in the Catholic convent there, for as 'Enery said: ¢’Enrietta, keep an eve on the little nipper, an’ do ¥ damndest to see she's raised a Iydy. 'Er father was a gentleman, an’ you never want to forget ’e made you Mrs. Colonel Jenks. So Hi've made a lydy out o' her, Willie: education, pianner lessons, paintin’, singin’, an’ deport- mint. After she graduated from the copvent, I ’ad her take a course in the Uniwersity o' California—New Or- leans wasn't ’ealthy for ‘er, an’ she necded a chynge o' climate—an’ for the last two years she’s been teachin’ in the ’igh school in Los Angeles.” | “And you haven't scen her in all these years?” Geary demanded. . “Not a look, Willie. She’s been aft- er me ever since she graduated fr¢ | the convent to let her come ’ome ap’ wisit me, but Hi've told ‘er to wyte— that 1'd be comin® soon to wisit her. n’ now, s'help me, she won’t wait no louger; she’s comin’ to wisit me! Gor’, Willie, she’s on her wy!” “So this cablegram would indicate,” Geary observed. “Nevertheless, Moth- er, 'm at a loss to know why you should feel so cut up over the im- pending visit.” * There was rteal fear In Mother Jenks' tear-dimmed eyes. “I cawn't let 'er see me,” she wailed, “I wasn’t this W'y w'en my sainted 'Enery hen- trusted the lamb to me; it wasn't until i awfter they hexccuted 'Enery that- I commenced to slip—an’ now look at mwe, Look at me, Willle Geary; lcok at me, I s'y. Wot do yer see? Aw, don’t tell me I'm young an’ 'andsome, for T know wot I am. I'm a frowsy, drunken, . disreputable baggage, with All along, hever since she learned to write me a letter, I've been *Enrietta Wilkins to ‘er, an’ Mother Jenks to every beach- combin® beggar in the - Caribbean tropics. I've lied to ’er, Willie. I've | wrote 'er as 'ow ’er fawther, before ‘e died, give me enough money to heflu- cate ’er like a lydy—" Again Mother Jenks’ grief overcame! her. “Gor’, Willie, I ain’t respectable. She’s comin’ to see me—an’ T cawn’t Jlet ’er. She musto’t know ’ow I zot ‘the money for ‘er heducation—sellin’ ‘cllfire to a pack of rotten dorgs an’ consortin’ with the scum of this stink- in’ ole! Oh, Willie, you've got'to "elp I cawn't 'ave ’er comin’ to El ryjp er reputation by callin’ on ’er in public at the 'Otel Mateo. Oh, Gor’, Willle, Mother’s come a cropper. Willie agreed with her. He patted ! the sinfnl gray head of his landlady| and waited for her to regain her com- posure, the while he racked his agile brain for a feasible plan to fit the emergency. “She been plcturin’ me in 'er mind all these years, Willie—picturin® a fraud,” wailed Mother Jenks. “If she sees me now, wot a shock she'll get, pore swectheart—an’ ‘er the spittin’ himage of a hangel. And oh, Willie, while she don’t remember wot I looked like, think o' the shock if she | | meets me! In ’er lawst letter she sald as 'ow I was the only hanchor she had in life. Ho, yes. A sweet-lookin” hanchor I am—an® Hi was ’opin’ to die before she found hout. I've got a hanuerism in my ‘eart, Willie, so the surgeon on the mail boat tells me, an’ w'en I go, I'll go like—that!” Mother Jenks snapped her clgarette-stained fingers. I'm fifty-seven, Willie, av’ since my sainted ’Enery passed away, I ‘aven’t been no bloomin’ hangel.”, She wrung her hands. “Oh, W'y in "ell couldn’t them harteries "ave busted in time to save ‘my lamb the ’umiliatin® knowledge that she's be’oldin’ to the likes 0o’ me for wot she's got—an’ "ow I got it for "er.” Billy Geary had a bright Idea. “Well,” he sald, “why not die—tem- porarily—if you feel that way about it? You could come back: from the grave after she's gone.” But Mother Jenks shook her head. “No,” she declared. “While Dolores is | self-supportin® now, still, if anythink ‘appened ap’ she was to need 'elp, selp is somethin’ no ghost can give. Think again, Willle. Gor, lad, w'ere's | yer brains?” “Well,” Billy countered thought- fully, “apparently there’s no way of heading her off before she takes the steamer at New Orleans, so we'll take it for granted she'll arrive here in due course. About the time she’s due, suppose you run up to San Miguel de Padua for a couple’ of weeks and leave me to run El Buen Amigo in your absence. [I'll play fair with you, | Mother, so help me. I'll account for every centavo. T'll horrow some de-| cent clothes from Leber the day the steamer gets in; then I'll go aboard and look over the passenger list, and if she's aboard, T'll tell her you closed your house and started for California | to visit her on the last north-hound stenmer—that ber cablegram arrived just after you had started; that the| cable company. knowing I am a friend | | of yours, showed we the ressage and | that I took it npon myself to call and | explain that as a result of Your de-| | parture for the United States it will | be useless fer her to land—useless | and dangerous, because cholera fis/| raging in Buenaventura, although the port authorities deny it—" *“Willie,” ' Mother Jenks interrupted | impressively, a ghost of her old deb- onair spirit shining through her tears, “yer don’t owe me a bloomin’ sixpence! Yer've syved the day, syved my reputation, an’ syved a lydy's peace o’ mind. Kiss me, yer precious byby.” So Billy kissed her—gravely and| with fillal reverence, for he had long suspected Mother Jenks of being a pearl cast before swine, and now he! was certain of it. ' “pll send her back to the United States and promise to cable you to awalt her there,” Billy continued. “Of course, we can't help it if you and the cablegram miss connections, and once the young lady is back in the United States, I dare say she’ll have to stay there a couple of years before she can save the price of another sea voyage. And in the meantime she may marry—" “Or that haneurism may ‘ave turned , the trick before that” Mother Jenks suggested candidly but joyously. “In course she'll be disappointed, but then disappointment never lays ‘eavy on a young ‘eart, Willie; an’ bein’ disap- pointed at not seein’ a person you ain’t really acquainted with ain’t as bad as some disappointments.” “T guess 1 know,” Billy Geary re- plied bitterly, “If that cablezram had only been for me! Mother, if my old partner cotld, by some miracle, man-, age to marry this Dolores girl, your arterles and your aneurisms -might bust and be damned, but the girl would be safe.” “M'ybe,” Mother Jenks suggested hopefully, “yer might fix it up for her w'en I'm gone. From all haccounts ‘e's no-end a gentleman.” “He's a he-man,” Mr. Geary de- clared with conviction. He sighed. | are, please write or cable,” he mur- mured. CHAPTER VI. * ' = The anclent bromlide to the effect that man proposes but God disposes was never better exemplified than in the case of John Stuart Webster, who, having formulated certain daring plans for the morrow and surrendered himself to grateful slumber in his stateroom aboard the Gulf States Lim/ ited, awoke on that momentous morn 0 a distinct apprehension that all was not as it should be with him. His mouth reminded him vaguely of a | bird-and-animal store, and riot and In- | surrection had broken out in the geometric center of his internal economy. Webster was sufficient of a jack-leg doctor to suspect he was developing a splendid little case of ptomaine poisoning. He decided to go into ex- ecutive session’ with the sleeping-car conductor, who wired ahead for a doc- tor to meet the train at the next sta- tion, And when the sawbones came and pawed Jack Webster aver, he gravely annoynced that if the patient had the slightest ambition to vote at the next presidential election, he should leave the train at St. Louis and enter a hospital forthwith. To this heart-breaking program Webster en- tered not the slightest objection, for when a wan is seriously ill, he Is in much the same position as a politician —to-wit: He is in the hands of his friends. However, life had the habit of go- ing hard with Webster so frequently that forfunately he was trained to the minute, and after three days of heroic battliog the doctor ‘awarded Jack the decislon. Thereafter they kept him in the hospital ten days longer, “feeding him up” as the patient expressed it— at the end of thich period Webster, some fifteen pounds lighter and not quite so fast on his feet as formerly, | resumed his journey toward New Or- leans. In the meantime, however, several things had bappened. To begin, Do- lores Ruey spent two days wondering what had become of her quondam knight of the whiskers—at the end of which period she arrived in New Orleans with the conviction strong upon her that while her hero might be | as courageous as a wounded lion when | dealing with then, he was the pos- sessor, when dealing with women, of about two per cent less courage than a cottontail rabbit. Being a very hu- ‘man young lady, however, she could not help wondering what had become of the ubiquitous Mr. Webster, al- though the fact that he had’mysteri- ously disappeared from the train en route to New Orleans did not perturb her one-half so much as it had the dis- appearee. She had this advantage over that unfortunate man. Whereas | he did not know she was bound for Buenaventura, she knew he was; hence, upon arrival in New Orleans she dismissed him from her thoughts, serene in abiding faith that sooner or later her knight would appear, like little Bo-Peep's lost sheep, dragging his tail behind him, so to speak. Dolores spent a week in New Or- leans renewing schoolgirl friendships frcm her convent days in the quaint old town. This stop-over, together with the one in Denver, not having been taken into consideration by Mr. Willlam Geary when he and Mother Jenks commenced to speculate upon the approximate date of her arrival in Buenaventura, resulted in the prema- ture flight of Mother Jenks to San Miguel de Padua, a fruitless visit on the part of Billy aboard the Cacique, of the United Fruit company’s line, followed by a hurry call to Mother Jenks to return §o Buenaventura until the arrival of the next steamer. This time Billy’s calculations proved correct, for Dolores did arrive on that steamer. The port doctor came aboard, partook of his customdry drink with the captain, received a bundle of the latest American news- papers and magazines, nosed around, asked a few perfunctory questions, and gave the vessel pratique. Dolores observed a gasoline launch shoot up to the landing at the foot of the companion-ladder and discharge a well-dressed, youthful white man. As he came up the compaion, the purser recognized him. “Howdy, Bill,” he called. “Hello, yourself,” Mr. William Geary replied, and Dolores knew him for an American. “Do you happen_to (Continued on Page 7) “John Stuart Webster, wherever you _