Bemidji Daily Pioneer Newspaper, July 17, 1922, Page 2

- . TTTT 7 8YNOPSIS CHAPTER 1.—At Thornton Fairchild's th his son Robert learns' thero has & dark period in his father's life which for almost thirty years has caused him suffering. The secret is hinted at in a document left by the elder Fair- child, which also informs Robert helll now ‘owner of & mining claim in_Colo- rado, and advising alm to see Henry Beamish, a lawyer. CHAPTER I1.—Beamish tells Robert his claim, a siiver mine, is at Ohadi, thirty- ight miles from Denver. He also warns him against a certain man, “Squint” Ro- daine, his father’s enemy. Robert decides 10 g0 to Ohadl. CHAPTER II1.—On the road to Ohadi from. Denver Fairchild assists a girl, ap- parently-in a frenzy of haste, to change s tire on lier auto. When siie has left [t iff and a BSe appear, - :;t o anate. “Fairchiia bewlldered, | misleads them as to the direction the | ir) had taken. PTER IV.—At Ohad! Falrchild is warm] eted by ‘Mother” Howas :c:rdz:-g:uu’ keeper, for his fathe! o, CHAPTER V.—From Mother Howard, Fairchild learns something of the mystery sonnected -with the disappearance of - sle” his fathers co-worker the mine; He moets the girl he had ted, but_she denies her identity. She Anita Richmond, Judge Richmond's CHAPTER V1.—Visiting his claim, Fair- child’ is shadowed by a man he recog- nizés from descriptions as “Squint” Ro- daine. Back in Ohadi, his father's old triend, Harry Harkins, a Cornishman, summoned from England by Beamish to help Fairchild, halls him with joy. * _GHAPTER VIL—The pair find the mine flgodéd. and have not suficlent funds to have it pumped dry. Later in the day “Bquint’ " Rodaine announces that ho practically saw Harkins fall into the | tlooded mine, and evidently {8 drowned. CHAPTER VIIL—Harkins being a gen- | eralfavorite, the ontire population turns | out to clear the flooded mine. When | the work s practically done, Harry ap- | pears, apparently surprised at the' tur- moll.” It had been a shrewd trick on his | part to get the mine pumped out without | coat to himaelf or Fairchild, and the men | take it as'a good joke. | A A "(Continued from last issue). ~ FufTehlT gasped as he noticed the | figuyre plodding down the mountain 5 side. He put out a hand, then, selzing | the nervous Herbenfelder by ; the shoulder, whirled him arofind. “Look!” he éxclalmed. “Look therel| Didn't I tell you! Didn't I have a; huneh?” For, coming toward them jauntily, slowly, was a figure in beaming blne, a-Fedora on his head now, but with the rest of his wardrobe intact, yellow, bump-toed shoes and all. Someone! shouted. Bverybody turned. And as they did so, the figure hastened its | piace. A moment later, a booming voice sounded, the unmistakable volce of Harry Harkins: . “I- sye! . What's the matter over there? Did somebody fall in?” The puffing of gasoline engines | ceased. A moment more and the gur- gling cough of the pumps was stilled, while the shouting and laughter of a | great crowd sounded through the hills. A leaping form went forward, Sam | Herbenfelder, to seize Harry, to pat! him and paw him, as though in assur- ance that he really was alive, then to grasp wildly at the ring on his finger. | But Harry waved him aside. “Ain’t I paid the Installment on 1t?" “What's the Rumpus?™ he remonstrated. “What's the rum- pus?”’ Fairchild, with Mother Howard, both laughing happily, was just behind Her- benfelder. And behind them was thronging half of Ohadl. ' “We thought you were drowned!” “Me?” Harry's laughter boomed again, In a way that was infectious. “Me drowned, just because I let a! *oller and dropped my ’at?” .“You did it on purpose?’ Sam Her- benfelder shook a scrawny fist under Harry’s nose. The big_Cornishman | gly limbs which still slung to it. | visaged young man at her side. In- S-CUT waved it asfde a8 one would brush away an obnoxious fly. Then he ed at the townpeople about him, “well,” he confessed, “there was an un'oly lot of water in there, and I didn’t 'ave any money. What else was 1 to do?” “You—!" A pumpman had picked up a plece of heavy timbering and thrown it at him in mock ferocity. “Work us to death and then come back and give us the laugh! Where you been at?” “Center City,"” cheerily. “And you knew all the time?” Mother Howard wagged a finger under his nose, “Well.” and the Cornishman chuck- led, “I didn’t ’ave any money. I ’ad to get that shaft unwatered, didn’t 17" “Get a rall!” An irate—but laugh- ing—pumpman had come forward. “Think you can pull that on us? Get arail!” Someone seized a small, dead pine which lay on the ground near by. Others helped to strip it of the scrag- confessed Harry Harry watched them and chuckled— tor he knew that in none was there malice. He had played his joke and won. It was their turn now. Shout- Ing In mock anger, calling for all dire things, from lynchings on down to burnings at the stake, they dragged | Harry to the pine tree, threw him | astraddle of it, then, with willing hands volunteering on every side, hoisted the tree high above them and started down the mountain side, Sam Herbenfelder trotting in the rear and forgetting his anger in the joyful | knowledge that his ring at last was safe, ' BRehind the throng of men with their mock threats trailed the women and children, some throwing pine cones | at the booming Harry, juggling him- | self on the narrow pole; and in the erowd, Fairchild found someone he could wateh with more than ordinary interest—Anita Richmond, trudging along with the rest, apparently re- monstrating with the sullen, mean- stinctively Fairchild knew that' young Rodaine was not pleased with the re- turn of Harkins. As for the father— Fairchild whirled at a voice by his side and looked straight into the crooked eyes of Thornton Falrchild's cnemy. The blue-white scar had turned almost black now, the eyes were red from swollen, blood-stained velns, the evil, thin, crooked lips were working in sullen fury. They were practically alone at the mouth of the mine, Fair- child with a laugh dying on his lips, Rodaine with all the hate and anger and futile malice that a human being can know typified in his scarred, hawk- like features. A thin, taloned hand came upward, to double,’ leaving one bony, curved-finger extending in em- phasis of the words which streamed from the slit of a mouth: “Iunny, weren't you? Played your cheap jokes and got away with 'em. But everybody ain’t like them fools!” he pointed to the crowd just rounding the rocks, Harry bobbing in the fore- ground. “There's some, that remem-| ber—and I'm one of 'em. You've put| over your fake; you've had your laugh; you've framed it so I'll be the butt of every numbskull in Ohadi. But | Just listen to this—just listen to this!" he repeated, the harsh’ voice' taking on a tone that was almost a screech. “There's another time " coming—and that time's going to be mine!” And before Falrchild could retort,| he had turned and was scrambling|| down the mountain side. CHAPTER IX Fairchild went back Into the tunnel, spun the flywheels of the gasoline en- gines and started them revolving again, that the last of the water might be drained from the shaft before the pumps must be returned to their own- ers, Several hours passed, then Harry returned, minus his gorgeous clothing and his diamond ring, dressed in min- Ing costume now, with high leather boots into which his trousers were tucked, and carrying a carbine lantern, Dolefully he looked at the vacant fin- ger where once a diamond had spar- kled. Then he chuckled. “Sam took it back,” he announced. “And I took part of the mon¢y and pald it out for rent on.these pumps. We can keep 'em as long as we want ‘em, It's only costing about a fourth of what it might of. Drowning's worth something,” he laughed again. Fairchild jolned him, then sobered. “It brought Rodaine out of the bushes,” he said. *“Squint threatened us after they'd hauled you down town on the rail.” Harry winked jovially.’ “Ain’t it just what I expected? It's! better that wye than to ’ave 'im snoop- in' around.” They chuckled together then; it was | Rodalne says.” only forced Squirit’ Rodafne to show his enmity openly, but it was some- thing more to make him the instru- ment of helping them with their work. Harry looked down the hole, stared intently at nothing, then turned to the rusty hoist. “’Fre's the thing we've got to fix up now. This 'ere chiv wheel's all out of gear.” “What makes your face So red?” Fairchild asked the question as the] be-mustached visage of Harry. canie nearer to the carbide, Harry looked up. “Mother 'Oward almost slapped it oft!” came his rueful answer. *“For not telling 'er what I was going to do, and lett{rg ‘er think I got drownded. But 'ow was I to know?” % Fairchild absently examined the'en-| gines and pumps, supplying water; to the radlators and filling an'oil cup or two. Then he turnied swiftly, volc- Ing that which was uppermost in his mind. il “When you were here before, Harry, did yvou know a Judge Richmond?”’ “Yeh.” Harry pawed his mustache and made a greasy, black mark on his face. “But I don't think I want to know 'im now.” “Why not?” “'E's mixed up with the Rodaines.” “How much?” “They own 'im—that’s all.” There was silence for a moment, It had been something' which Fairchild | had not expected. If the Rodaines owned Judge Richmond, how far did that ownership extend? After a long time, he forced himself to a statement. “I know his daughter. She sold me a ticket to a dance,” Fairchild care- fully forgot the earHer meeting. “Then we've happened to meet several times after that. She said that her father had told her about me—it seems he used to be a friend of my own father.” Harry nodded. “So 'e was. And a good friend. But that was before things ’appened—like | they've 'appened in he last ten years. Not that I know about it' of my own knowledge. But Mother. ‘'Oward—she knows a lot.” “But what's caused ‘the change? What—?" Harry’s intent gaze stopped him. “'0Ow many times ’'ave you seen Judge Richmond?’ “1 haven’t ever seen him.” “You won't—if Mother 'Oward knows anything. 'E ain't able to get out. 'E's sick—apoplexy—a stroke. Rodaine'’s taken advantage of it.” “How?" 7 “'Ow does anybody take advantage of somebody that's sick? 'Ow does anybody get a ’'old on a person? Through money! Judge Richmond 'ad a lot of it. Then ’e got sick. Ro- daine, 'e got 'old of that money. Now Judge Richmond ’'as to ask ’'lm for!| every penny he gets—and ’e does what “But a judge—" “Judges is like anybody else when | they're bedridden and only ’arf their faculties working. The girl, so Mother 'Oward tells me, is about twenty now. That made ’er just a little kid, and motherless, when Rodaine got ‘in ’is work. She ain’t got a thing to sye. And she loves ’er father. If ’e don't dle pretty soon, you'll see a wedding!” “You mean—?" “She’'ll be Mrs, Maurice Rodaine, She loves 'er father enough to do it— after 'er will's broken.” Again Robert Falrchild filled an ofl cup, again he tinkered about the pumps. Then he straightened. “How are we going to work this mine?” he asked shortly. Harry stared at him. “'Ow should I know? You own it!~ “I' don't mean that way. We were fitty-fifty from the minute you showed up. There never has been any other thought in my mind—" “Fifty-fifty? You're making me a bloated capitalist!” “I hope I wlill. Or rather, I hope that you'll make such a thing possible for both of us. But I was talking |about something else; are we going to work hard and fight it out day and night for awhile until we can get things clear, or are we just going at it by easy stages?” “Suppose,” apswered Harry after a communication with his magic mus- itache, “that we go dye and night 'til we get the water out? It won't be long. Then we'll 'ave to work to- gether. You'll need my vast store of learning and enlightenment!” he grinned. “Good. But the pumping will last ithrough tomorrow night. Can you !take ‘the night trick?™ ; “Sure. But why?" “I want to go to that dance!” Harry whistlel. Harry's big lips spread into a grin, “And she's got brown eyes!” he Ichortled to himself. *“And she's got "brown ‘alr, and she's a wye about ‘er. Oh! She's got a wye about ’er! And| T'll bet she's going with Maurice Ro-| dainel Oh! She's got & wye about| ‘er!” “Oh, shut up!” growled Fairchild, but he grinned in schoolboy fashion ! as he said it. Harry poured half a can | of oil ‘upon ¢hé'bearings of the chiv| wheel with’ almost loving tenderness. “She's got a wye about ’'er!” he; echoed. Fairchild suddenly frowned. t “Just what do you mean? That she's 1n love with Rodaine and just—" “'Ow should I kmow? But she's got ‘& wye about ‘er!” “Well,” the firm chin of the other man grew firmer, “it won't be hard to find out!” And the next night he started upon his investigations. Nor did he stop to consider that social events had been few and far between for him, that his dancing had progressed little farther than the simple ability to move his feet in unison to.music. Years of of- fice and home, home and office, had not allowed Robert Fairchild the natural “] Want to Go to That Dance!” But he put that aside now; he was going to that dance, and he was going to stay there as long as the music sounded, or rather as long as the brown eyes, brown hair and laughing 1lips of Anita Richmond were apparent to him.' What's more, he carried out his resolution. Again and again Fairchild’s eyes 'searched the crowds, the multicolored, ‘overdressed costumes of the women, the old-fashioned affairs with which many of the men had arrayed them- selves, ranging all the way from high leather boots to frock suits and stove- pipe beaver hats. From one face to another his gaze went on; then he turned abstractedly to the long line of tables, with their devotees of keno, and bought a paddle. From far away the drone of. the call- er sounded in a voice familiar, and Fairchild looked up to see the narrow- eyed, scarred facé of Squint Rodaine, who was- officiating at the wheel. He lost interest in the game; lackadals- fcally he placed the buttons on their squares as the numbers were shouted, finally to brush them all aside and de- sert the game. His hatred of the Ro- daines had grown to a point where he could enjoy nothing with which they were connected, where he de- spised everything with which they had the remotest affliation—excepting, of course, one person. And as he rose, TFairchild saw that she was just enter- ing the dance hall. Only a moment he hesitated. Mau- ! rice Rodaine, attired in a mauve frock suit and the inevitable accompanying beaver, had stopped to talk- to some one &t the door.”’ She stood alone, look- ing about the h#ll, laughing and nod- ding—and then she looked at him! Fairchild did not wait. From the platform at the end of the big room the fiddles had begun to squeak, and the caller was shouting his announcements, . Couples began to line up‘on the flofr:’ The caller's voice grew louder: § “One’ more couple—then the dance starts, One more couple, lady an’ a gent! One more—" “Please!” Robert Fairchild had reached her and ‘Was holding forth his hand. She lookéd up in half surprise, then. demurred. “But I don't know these old dances.” “Nelther do I—or any other, for that matter,” he confessed with sudden boldness. “But does that make any difference? Please!” She glanced quickly toward the door. Maurice Rodaine was still talk- ing. and Fairchild saw a little gleam come into her eyes—the gleam that shows when a woman decides to make some one pay for rudeness. Fairchild’s hand was still extended. Again Anita Richmond glanced toward the door, chuckled to herself while Fairchild watched the dimples that the merriment caused, and then—Fairchild forgot the fact that he was wearing hobnailed shoes and that his clothes were worn and old. He was going forward to take his place on the dance floor, ‘and she was beside him! Some way, as through a haze, he saw her. Some way he realized that now and then his hand touched hers, and that once, as they whirled about the room, in obedience to the monarch on- the fiddler's rostrum, his arm was about her waist, and her head touching | his shoulder. It made little difference whether the dance calls were obeyed after that. Fairchild was making up for all the years he had plodded, all the years in which he had known noth- ; ing but a slow, grubbing life, living them all again and rightly, in the few swift moments of a dance. The music ended, and laughing they returned to the side of the hall.. Out of the haze he heard words, and knew indistinctly that they were his own: “Will—will you dance with me again tonight?” “Selfish 1" she chided. “But will you?" For just a moment her eyes grew serious, “Did you ever realize that we've never been introduced?" Fairchild was finding more conversa- tlon than he ever had belleved pos- sible. “No—but I realize that I don’t care— it you'll forgive it. I—belleve that I'm a gentleman.” 3¢ “So do I—or I, wouldn’t have danc: with you.” “Then please—" “Pardon me.” She had lald a hand on his arm for just a moment, then hurried away. Fairchild saw that she was approaching . young Rodaine, scowling In the background. That per- son shot an angry remark at her as she approached and followed it with something to_know that they had not | advantages of the usual young man. | streaming sentences, . Falrchild knew the reason. Jealousyi Coupies, re- turning from the dance floor; jostled ageainst him, but he did not move. He was walting—walting for the outcome of the quarrel—and in a moment it came. Anita Richmond turned swittly, her dark eyes ablaze, her pretty lips set and firm. - She looked anxiously about her, sighted Fairchild, and then started toward him, while he advanced to meet her. “Yes,” was her brief announcement. “I'll dance the next one with you.” “And the next ofter that?” Again: “Selfish!” But Fairchild did mot appear to hear. : A third dance and a fourth, while in the intervals Fairchlld’s eyes sought out the sulky, sullen form of Maurice Rodaine, flattened against ‘the wall, eyes. evil, mouth a stralght line, and the blackness of hate discoloring his face. It was as 50 much wine to Fair- child; he felt himself really young for the first time in his life.. And as the music started again, ‘he once more turned to his companion. Only, however, to halt and whirl and stare in surprise. There had come a shout from the doorway, booming, commanding: “’Ands up, everybody! about 1t1” Some one laughed and jabbed his hands into the air. Another, quickly sensing a staged surprise, followed the example. It was just the finishing touch necessary—the old-time hold-up of the old-time dance. The “bandit” strode forward. 2 “Out from be'Ind that bar! Drop that gun!” he commanded of the white- aproned attendant. “Out from that roulette wheel. Everybody line up! Quick—and there aln't no time for foolin’.” Chattering and laughing, ‘they obeyed, the sheriff, his star gleaming, And quick standing out in front of them all, shiv- | ering in mock fright, bis hands higher than any one's. The bandit, both re- volvers leveled, stepped forward a foot or so, and again ordered speed. A bandanna handkerchief was wrapped about his head, concealing his hair and ears. A mask was over his eyes, sup- plemented by other ‘bandanna, which, beginning at the bridge of his nose, flowed over his chin, cutting off all possible chance of recognition, Only a second more he waited, then, with a wave of the guns, shouted his command : “All right, everybody! I'm a decent fellow. Don't want much, but I want it quick! This ’ere’s for the relief of widders and orphans. ' Make it sudden. Each one of you gents step out to the center of the room and leave five dol- lars. And step back when you've put it there. Ladles stay where you're at!” Again a laugh. Fairchild turned to his companion, as she nudged him. “There, it's your turn.” % Out to the center of the floor went Fairchild, the rest of the victims laughing and chiding him. Back he came in mock fear, his hands in the alr. On down the line went the con- tributing men. Then the bandit rushed forward, gathered up the bills and gold pleces, shoved them in his pockets, and whirled toward the door. “The purpose of this 'ere will be In the paper tomorrow,” he announced. “And don’t you follow me to find out! Back, there!” Two or three laughing men . had started forward, among them a fiddler, who had joined the line, and who now rushed out in flaunting bravery, brand- 1shing his violin as though to brain the intruder. Again the command: “Back, there—get back!” Then the crowd recoiled. Flashes had come from the masked man’s guns, the popping of electric light globes PETUNIAS BLOOM TILL FROST Blossom One of Swestest and Plant Is Mot Prolific—Fine for Beds and Boxes. For porch and. window boxes and for gay. beds which will hold their display until frost kills them, there 1s no annual to compete with the pe- tunia, particularly the small-flowered bedding varieties with their myriad bloom. There are wonderful plants with their frilled and ruffled flowers, which are more showy individually, but they 4CCOTUINE T, Mr. Glbson, "John Green is ‘a mobhby old burglar, prowling around 'in-a naked state."—Boston Transcript. i THE PIONEER WANT ADY BRING RESULTS “CANTON and TIRES Guaranteed to be first cla: FABRIC 8.50. Next Door to City Hall and in workmanship and materials— ‘SATISFACTION. Matland’s Vulcanizing Shop Mail Orders filled same day as received—or drive up to our door—no extra charge for putting new tires on. If your tires go bad on the road, phone 17-J and we will bring new tires and put them on at prices quoted above. “BLACKSTONE” TUBES A Phone 17-J above and the showering of glass tes- | [ tifying to the fact that they had con- tained something more than mere wad- ding. Somewhat dazed, the fiddler con- tinued his rush, suddenly to crumple and fall, while men milled and women screamed. A door slammed, the lock clicked, and the crowd rushed for the windows. The holdup had been real after all—instead of a planned, joking affair. On the floor the fiddier lay gasping—and bleeding. And the ban- dit was gone. All in a moment the dance hall seemed to have gone mad. Men were rushing about and shouting; panic- stricken women clawed at one another and fought their way toward a free- dom they could not gain. Windows crashed as forms hurtled against them; screams sounded. Hurriedly, as the crowd massed thicker, Fairchild raised the small form of Anita in his arms and carried her to.a chalr, far at one side, “It's all right now,” he said, calming her. “Everything's over—look, they're helping the fiddler to his feet. Maybe he's not badly hurt. Everything's all right—" And then he straightened. A man had unlocked the door from the out- side and had rushed into the dance hall, excited, shoyting. It was Maurice Rodaine, iy — Continued in next issue ‘A Kind Wish. When Jean wentyto her little neigh- bor’s to visit she jefien talked to the grandmother of th& house. “I have a grandmother, too,” she would say, “but she's:in heaven.” And she and the grandmother of the house were good friends until one day the grandmother was cross. She scolded the two little girls for leaying the screen door open, for walking in a flower bed and dropping crumbs on the floor. The two youngsters sought refuge on the porch. Grandmother started to follow them there a little later, to try to make up. She realized the necessity of doing -so, for when she reached the door she heard Jean say, “Ruth, I wish your grandmother was visitin’ my grandmother today."—In- ‘diannnaiie News, By Phone Overland is one of the” most popular cars in America today and stands more firmly intrenched than ever in popular favor. At $550, the Overland offers greater automobile value for the money than any other car. 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