Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, June 22, 1917, Page 3

Page views left: 0

You have reached the hourly page view limit. Unlock higher limit to our entire archive!

Subscribers enjoy higher page view limit, downloads, and exclusive features.

Text content (automatically generated)

ri NAEART A the SUNSET @ REX BEACH Author of “The Spoilers,” “The Iron T; rail,” “The Silver Horde,” Etc. Care © here © trate SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I—Set afoot and alone by an accident in the desert near the Rio Grande Mrs. Alaire Austin, mistress of Las Pal- mas and La Feria ranches, meets Dave Law, Texas Ranger, at a water hole and is compelled to spend the night there with bim, as he is in ambush for a murderer aod cannot leave his post. CHAPTER Il—Next day at evening the murderer appears with a companion. CHAPTER III—Law captures the mur- derer but is compelied to kill his compan- fon, Panfilo Sanchez, who happens to be e cousin of Mrs. Austin’s horsebreaker, Jose Sanchez. CHAPTER IV—At Las Palmas Alaire tells her husband, Ed, that his carousals and inebriety must stop. Her cattle et-La Feria, the Mexican ranch, are con- fiseated by Longorio, Mexican federal general, and she finds that it is because EX has been helping the rebel junta. CHAPTER V—On her way to La Feria In Mexico Alaire meets Longorio, who falls in love with her and agrees to settle for the confiscated stock. CHAPTER VI—Entertained at their home by Blaze Jones and his daughter Paloma, Dave hears something about the Tad Lewis outfit, which is suspected of catue stealing. With Ricardo Guzman and his boys Dave and Blaze go on a scout after cattle thieves, CHAPTER VII—Law catches two of the Lewis outfit branding a stolen calf and in a fight kills one and has his horse shot under him. He trails the other thief to Palmas, where he is insulted by Ed Austin, whom he knows to be very friend- ly with the Lewis outfit. CHAPTER XI—Dave and Alaire attend the Las Palmas rodeo. She presents Dave with a horse to replace the one killed by the cattle thieves. They discuss the kill- ing of Panfilo, CHAPTER XII—Guzman does not re- turn from Mexico and his reported killing arouses Americans. Dave and Blaze ar- range to go to Romero across the river and recover the body. Jose hears that Dave killed Panfilo and goes to join Lon- gorio. Paloma and Alaire arrange to go to the river to await the return of Blaze and Dave. Longorio appears at Las Pal- mas with an escort and overhears Ed telephoning news of the trip after Guz- man to Tad Lewis. CHAPTER XIII—Longorio compels Ed to go to the river with him. The girls follow and hide in the pomphouse; The Lewis outfit appears. When Blaze and Dave cross the river a general mix-up is prevented by Captain Evans and his rang- ers who appear on the scene and support Dave. Dave arrests Urbina. CHAPTER XIV—Blaze dodges dress- makers and fortune tellers. CHAPTER XV~Strange, a fortune tell- er, warns Dave that Jose is cooking up trouble for him and Alaire. Dave goes to see her and in a moment of emotionai Stress they confess their love. CHAPTER XVI—Ed, who had disap- peared after the Guzman incident, comes yack and Alaire decides to divorce him. She writes to_her lawyer and to Dave. Jose carries Dave's letter to Longorio, who orders him to kill Ed. the customary after-effects of a visit to the city or else that he lacked the 1 courage to undertake an expla- nation of his hurried flight from the ranch. In either event she was glad he kept to his room. When Austin made his appesrance, the day following his retur his bleared eyes, his puffy, pa cheeks, his shattered nerves, showed plainly enough how he had spent his time, Al- though he was jumpy and irritable, he seemed determined by an assumption of high spirits and exaggerated friend- liness to avert criticism. Since Alaire spared him a reproaches, his efforts seemed to meet with admirable Now Ed's opinion of women was not high, for those with whom he ha- bitually associated were of small in- telligence; and, seeing that his wife continued to manifest a complete in- difference to his past actions, he de- efded that his apprehensions had been groundless. If Alaire remembered the Guzman affair at all, or if she had sus- pected him of complicity in it, time had evidently dulled her suspicions, and he was a little sorry he had taken pains to stay away so long. Before many days, however, he dis- covered that this indifference of hers Was not assumed, and that in some way or other she had changed. Ed was accustomed, when he returned eX- hausted from a debauch, to seeing in his wife’s eyes a strained misery = he had learned to expect in her bearing A sort of pitying, hopeless resignaxion. But this time she was not in the ieast depressed. -On the contrary, she a> on suc- cess. peared happier, fresher, and—younger | than he had seen her for a long ume. It was mystifying. When, one morn- ing, he overheard her singing io her room, he was shocked. Over this phe- nomenon he meditated with growing amazement and a faint stir of resent- ment in his breast, for he lived a¢self- centered life, considering himself the Pivot upon which revolved all the af- fairs of his little world. To feel that he had lost even the power to make his wife unhappy argued that he had overestimated his importance. At length, having sufficiently recov- ered his health to begin drinking again, he yielded one evening to an alcoholic Impulse, and, just as Alaire bade him g00d night, clumsily sought to force 20 explanation. Eitan “See here!” he shot at her. “What's the matter with you lately?” He saw ‘that he had startled her, and that she made an effort to collect her wander ing thoughts. “You're about as warm and wifely as a stone idol.” , “Am I any different to what I have slways been?” “Humph!~ You haven't been exactly Sympathetic of late. Here I com home sic} help. Don't you think I have feelings Jove! I'm lonesome.” Alaire regarded him then shook her head as if in answer te some thought. In an obvior and somewhat too mel low effort to be friendly, Ed continued : | “Don't let's go on like this, Alaire. You Dinme me for going away so much, but when I'm home I feel like an inter. You trent me lke a cow-thief,’ “I'm sorry. I’ve tried to be | thing I should, I'm the interloper. | If only got along xether as well us we seem to from the outside, it wouldn't be bad at all. But you're too severe, ml seem to think # man should be perfect. Well, none of us ure, und I'm no worse than the majority. Why, I know lots of fellows who forget themselves and do things they shouldn't, but they don’t mean anything by it. They have wives and homes to go to when it’s all over. But have 1? You're as glad to see me as if I had smallpox, Maybe we've made 4 mess of things, but married life isn't what young girls think it is. A wife must learn to give and take, “T've given. What have I taken?” she asked him in a voice that quivered. Ed made an impatient gesture. “Oh, don't be so literal! I mean that, since we're man and wife, it’s up to you to be a little more—broad-gauge in your views.” “In other words, you want me to ig- nore your conduct. Is that it? I'm afrald we can’t argue that, Ed.” “All right; don't let’s try to argue loper, vonsense ! we it,” he laughed, with what he consid-| ered an admirable show of magnanim- ity. “I hate arguments, anyhow; I'd much rather have a good-night kiss.” But when he stooped over her Alaire held him off and turned “Ni she said. “You haven't kissed me for—” “IT don’t wish to kiss you.” “Don't be silly,” he insisted. “Come, now, I want a kiss.” Alaire thrust him back strongly, and he saw that her face had whitened. Oddly enough, her stubbornness un- gered him out of all reason, »ad he began a harsh remonstranee. Mut he halted when she cried: “Wait! and has been for a going to end it.” Ed. It’s all over, long time. We're Qnd it?” “We can't go on should we?” “Si Divorce? Alnire nodded, “Well, Dl be d——d!” Ed was dum- founded, “Isn't this rather sudden?” he managed to inquire. “Oh, You've suggested it more than once “I thought you didn't believe in di- vorces—couldn’t siomach 'em? What's happened?” “T have changed my mind.” “Humph! People don’t change their minds in a minute,” he cried angrily. “Is there some other man?” Now Ed Austin had no faintest idea that his wife would answer in the affir- mative, for he had long ago learned to put implicit confidence in her, and her life had been so open that he could not imagine that it held a double in- Therefore her reply struck him living together. Why Is that it?” no. she said quietly. “There is another man. It was like her not to evade. had never lied to him. Ed's mouth opened; his reddened eyes protruded. “Well—" he stam- mered. “Well!” Then after a moment: “Who Is it, the greaser or the cow- boy?” He taughed loudly, disagree- | ably. “It must be one or the other, for | you haven't seen any men except them. ‘Another mé Well, you're cool about She | it “T am gind you know the truth.” Muttering to himself, Ed made a short excursion around the room, then paused before his wife with a sneer on his lips. “Did It ever occur to you that I might ob, ” he demanded. Alaire d him scornfully, “What richt have you to object?” Ed could not restrain a malevolent gleam of curiosity. Ain't I entitled to know that much?” ‘As Alaire remained silent, he let his eyes rove over her with a kind of angry appreciation. “You're pretty enough to lgtampede any wan,” he admitted “Yes, and you've got money, too. “ i u bet it’s the Ranger. Huh! We're tarred with the same stick.” : “You don’t really believe that,” she told him, sharply. “Why not? You've had enough op- portunity. I don't see anything of you. Well, I was a fool to trust you.’ Alatre’s eyes were very dark and very bright as she said: “I wonder how I have managed to live with you as long as Ihave. I knew you were weak, nasty—so I was prepared for aoe thing like this. But I never thoug! t you werea downright criminal until— “Criminal? Rot!" nd you treat me lke one of the! speculatively. | her head. | \ I must tell you something, | “Say, who is it? | “How about that Guzman affair? You can’t go much lower, Ed, and you can't keep me here with you.” “IT can’t keep you, eh?” he growled. “Well, perhaps not. I suppose you've got enough on me to secure a divorce but I can air some of your dirty linen. Oh, don't look like that! I mean it! Didn't you spend a night with David Law?" He leered at her unpleasantly, then followed a step as she drew back. “Don't you touch me!” she cried. A flush was deepening [a's purple cheeks; his volce was peculiarly bru- | tal and throaty as he said: “The de cree isn't entered yet, and so long as you are Mrs, Austin I have rights. Yes, and I intend to exercise them. You've made me jealous, and—” He made te encircle her with his arms, and was half successful, but when Alaire felt the heat of his breath in her face, 2 sick loathing sprang up within her, and, setting her back against the wall she sent him reeling. Whether she struck him or merely pushed him away, she never knew, for during the Instant of their struggle she was blind with in- dignation and fury. Profiting by her advantage, she dodged past him, fled to her room, and locked herself in, She heard him muttering profanely; heard him approach her chamber more than once, then retire uncertainly, but she knew him too well to be afraid. Later that night she wrote two let- ters—one to Judge Ellsworth, the other to Dave Law, . ° . * * . . Sanchez rode to the Morales house feeling Some concern over the | Summons that took him thither. He wondered what could have induced General Longorio to forsake his many important duties in order to make the long trip from Nuevo Pueblo; surely j it could be due to no lack of zeal ov ; his (Jose's) part. No! The horse- | breaker flattered himself that he had mude a very good spy indeed; that he had been Longorio’s eyes and ears so | far as circumstances permitted. Nor | did he feel that he had been lax in making his reports, for through Rosa | he had written the general several | lengthy letters, and just for good meas- | ure these two had conjured up sundry imaginary happenings to prove beyond | doubt that Senora Austin was miser- ‘ably unhappy with her husband, and + ready to welcome such a dashing lover as Longorio, Therefore Jose could not for the life of him imagine wherein he had been remiss, Nevertheless, he was uneasy, and he hoped that nothing had occurred to anger his general. But Longorio, when he arrived at the meeting-place, was not In a bad humor. Having sent Rosa away on some er- | rand, he turned to Jose with a flashing smile, and said: | “Well, my good friend, the time has ; come.” Now Jose had no faintest idea what the general was talking about, but to | be called the good friend of so illustri- ous a person was flattering. He nod- | ded decisively. “Yes, beyond doubt,” he agreed. | The general Inid an affectionate hand upon Jose's shoulder. “The first time I saw you I said: “There's a boy after my own heart, I shall learn to love that Jose, and IT shall put him in the way of his fortune.’ Well, I have not | changed my mind, and the time is come. You are going to help me and I | am going to help you.” Jose Sanchez thrilled with elation from head to foot. This promised to be the greatest day of his life, and he felt that he must be dreaming. “You haven't tired of Rosa, eh? You still wish to marry her?” Longorio was inquiring. “Yes. man.” | “Just so. I shall attend to that. Now we come to the object of my visit. Jose, I proposed to make you rich enough in one day so that you can marry.” | “But first, Jose | | But of course I am a poor wait!” exclaimed the | horse-breaker. “I bring you something | of value, too.” Desiring to render fa- vor for favor, and to show that he was fully deserving of the general’s gene- rosity, Jose removed from inside the sweatband of his hat a sealed, stamped letter, which he handed to his em- ployer. “Yesterday I carried the mail to town, but as I rede away from Las Palmas the senora handed me this, with a silver dollar for myself. Look! It is written to the man we both hate.” Longorio took the letter, read the in- scription, and then opened the enye- | lope. Jose looked on with pleasure | while he spelled out the contents, When the general had finished read- \ing, he exclaimed: “Ho! A miracle! | Now I know all that I wish to know.” | “Then I did well to steal the letter, eh?” “Diablo! Yes! That brute of a hus- band makes my angel's life unbearable, and she flees to La Feria to be rid of him. Good! It fits in with my plans, She will be surprised to see me there. Then, when the war comes, and all fs chaos—then what? I'll warrant I can make her forget certain things and cer- | tain people.” Longorio nodded with satisfaction. “Yon did very well, Jose.” The latter leaned forward, his eyes | |bright. “That lady is rich. A fine prize, truly. She would bring a huge ransom.” This remark brought a smile to Lon- gorio’s face. “My dear friend, you do not in the least understand,” he said. “Ransom! What an idea!” He lost himself in meditation, then, rousing, spoke briskly: “Listen! In two, three days your senora will leave Las Pal- mas. When she is gone you will per- form your work, like the brave man I know you to be. You will relieve her of her husband.” Jose hesitated, and the smile van- ished from his face. “Senor Ed is not a bad man. He likes me; he—” Lon- gorio's gaze altered and Jose fell silent. “Come! You are not losing heart, eh? Have I not promised to make you a rich man? Well, the time has ar rived.” Seeing that Jose still mani- fested no eagerness, the general went ALTON vanes “Then | Did Well to Steal That Lets ter, Eh?” on in a different tone: “Do not think that you can withdraw from cur little arrangement. Oh, no! Do you remem- ber a promise I made to you when you came to me in Romero? I sald that if you played me false I would bury you to the neck In an ant-hill and fill your mouth with honey, I keep my prom- Ises.” Je s struggle was brief; he prompt- ly resigned himself to the inevitable. With every evidence of sincerity he as- sured Longorio of his loyalty, and de- nied the least intention of betraying his general's confidence. After all, the gringos were enemle id there was/ no one of them who did not merit de struction. Pleased with these sentiments, and feeling sufliciently assured that Jose was now really in the proper frame of mind to suit his purpose, Longorio took the winding trail back toward Sangre de Cristo. GHAPTER XVII. A Warning. A few days after she had written to Judge Elisworth Alaire followed her letter in person, for, having at last de- cided to divorce Ed, she acted with charatteristic decision. Since Ells- worth had more than once advised this very course, she went to Brownsville, enlisting his willing support. She had written Dave Law, telling him that she Intended to go to La Feria, there to remain pending the hearing of her sult. ‘lo be sure, she would have pre- ferred some place of refuge other than La Feria, but she reasoned that there she would at least be undisturbed, and that Ed, even if he wished to effect a) reconciliation, would not dare to follow | her, since he was persona non grata} in federal Mexico. She had counted upon seeing Dave during her stay in Brownsville, and her failure to do so was a grave _disap- pointment as she knew that he Was in town attending court. Yet she told! herself that it was brave of him to obey her injunctions so literally and to; lenve her unembarrassed by his pres- ence at this particular time. It in- spired her to be equally brave and to! wait patiently for the day when she! could welcome him with clean hands and a soul unashamed. In the midst of Alaire’s uncertainty | of mind it gratified her to realize that | Dave alone would know of her where- abouts. She wondered if he would} come to see her. He was a reckless, | heudstrong lover, and his desires were all too likely to overcome his delib- erate resolves, She rather hoped that in spite of his promise he would ven- ture to cross the border so that she could see and be near him, if only for a day or for an hour. The possibility frightened and yet pleased her. The conventional womun within her frowned, but her outlaw heart beat fast at the thought. Alaire did not explain her plans even to Dolores, but when her preparations were complete she took the Mexican | woman with her, and during Ed’s ab- seuce slipped away from the rancht Boarding the train at Jonesville, she was In Pueblo that night. Tt seemed at last that war with Mexico was imminent. After months of*uncertainty the question had come to issue, and that lowering cloud which had hung above the Horizon took omi- nous shape and size. Elisworth awoke gne morning to learn that an ultima- tum had gone forth to President Po+ tosig that the Atlantic fleet had been ordered south; and that marines were veiling ruShed aboard transports pend- ng a general army mobilization. It ooked as if the United States had inally risen In wrath, and as if noth- ng less than a miracle could now avert he long-expected conflict. | Blaze Jones took the San Antonio yaper out upon the porch and com- posed himself in the hammock to read the latest war news, Invasion! Troops! The Stars and Stripes! Those were words that stirred Jones deeply and caused him to neglect his work. Now that his country had fully awakened to the necessity of a war with Mexico —a necessity he had long felt—he was fired with the loftiest patriotism and a youthful eagerness to enlist. Blaze realized that he was old and fat and near-sighted; but what of that? He could fight. Fighting, in fact, had been one of his earliest accomplish- ments, and he prided himself upon knowing as much about it as any man could learn. He believed in fight- ing both i a principle and as an ex- }of Galveston ercise; In Tact, he attribited his good health to his various neighborly “un- pleasantnesses,” and he had more than once argued that no great fighter ever died of a sluggish liver or of any one of the other ills that beset sedentary, peace-loving people. Nations were like men—too much ease made them flabby. And Blaze had his own ideas of strategy, too. So during the perusal of his paper he bemoaned the mis- takes his government was making. Why waste time with ultimatums? he argued to himself. He had never done so. Experience had taught him that the way to win a battle was to beat the other fellow to the draw; hence this diplomatic procrastination filled him with impatience. It seemed al- most treasonable to one of Blaze’s in- tense patriotism, He was engaged in laying out a plan of campaign for the United States when he became conscious of voices behind him, and realized that for some time Paloma had been entertaining a caller in the front room, Their con- versation had not disturbed him at first, but now an occasional word or sentence forced its meaning through his preoccupation, and he found him- self listening. Paloma’s visitor was a woman, and as Blaze harkened to her voice, he felt his heart sink. It was Mrs. Strange. She was here again. With difficulty Blaze conquered an impulse to flee, for she was recounting a story all too familiar to him. “Why, It seemed as if the whole city was there, and yet no- body offered to help us,” the dress- maker was saying. “Phil was a per- fect hero, for the ruftian was twice his size. Oh, it was an awful fight! U hate to think of it.” “What made him Paloma inquired. “Heaven only knows. Some men are dreadful that way. Why, he left a black-and-blue mark !" Blaze broke Into a cold sweat and cursed feebly under his breath. “He wasn't drunk, either. He was Just naturally depraved. You could see It in his face.” “How did you escape?” “Well, I'll tell you. We chased him ap across the boulevard and in among the tents, and then—" Mrs. Strange lowered her voice until only a mur- mur reached the listening man. A mo- ment, then both women burst inte shrill, excited laughter, and Blaze him- self blushed furiously. This was unbearable! It was bad enough to have that woman in Jones- ville, a constant menace to his good hame, but to allow her access to his own home was unthinkable. Sooner or later they were bound to meet, and then Paloma would learn the disgrace- ful truth—yes, and the whole neigh- borhood wold likewise know his shame. In fancy, Blaze saw his rep- utation torn to shreds and himself ex- posed to the gibes of the people who venerated him. He would become a scandal among men, an offense to re- spectable women; children would shun him. Blaze could not bear to think of the consequences, for he was very fond of the women and children of Jonesville. He rose from his ham- mock and tiptoed down the porch into the kitchen, from which point of se- | curity he called loudly for his daugh- ter. Alarmed at his tone, Paloma came | running. “What Is the matter?” she asked, quickly. “Get her out!” Blaze cricl, savagely. “Get shed of her.” | “Her? Who?" “That varmint.” “Father, what ails you?” “Nothin’ ails me, but I don’t want | pinch you?" that caterpillar crawlin’ around my | premises. I don’t like her.” | Paloma regarded her parent curi- ously. “How do you know you don’t like her when you've never seen her?” | “Oh, I've seen her, all I want to; and I heard her talkin’ to you just now. I won't stand for nobody tellin’ you— bad stories.” Paloma snickered. doesn't—” “Get her out, “The idea! She and keep her out,” Blaze rumbled. “She ain't right; she ain’t—human. Why, what d’you reck- on I saw her do, the other day? Makes me shiver now. You remember that big bull-snake that lives under the barn, the one I've been layin’ for? Well, you won't kelieve me, but him and her are friends. Fact! I saw her pick him up and play with him. Who—ee! The goose-flesh popped out on me till it busted the buttons of my vest. She ain't my kind of people, | Paloma. ‘Strange’ ain't no name for her; no, sir! That woman's dam’ near peculiar.” Paloma remained thought you knew. snake-charnier.” “Aa—what?” There was no doubt about it. Blaze’s hair lifted. He blinked through his big spectacles;- he} pawed the alr freely with his hands. | “How can you let her touch you? I couldn't. I'll bet she carries a pocket- ful of dried toads and—and keeps live lizards in her hair. I knew an old voo- doo woman that ate cockroaches. Get shed of her, Paloma, and we'll fumi- unmoved. “TI She used to be a gate the house.” At that moment Mrs. Strange herself opened the kitchen door to inquire, “Is anything wrong?” Misreading Blaze’ expression for one of pain, she ex- claimed: “Mercy! Now, what have you done to yourself?” But the object of her solicitude backed away, making peculiar clucking sounds deep in his throat, Paloma was saying: “This is my father, Mrs. Strange. You and he have never happened to meet before.” “Why, yes we have! I know you,” the seamstress exclaimed. Then a puz- vied light flickered in her black yen. “Seems to me weve met somewntre, but—I've met so many people.” She extended her hand, and Blaze took it as if expecting to find it eold and scaly. He muttered something unin- telligible. “I've been dying to see you," she told him, “and thank you for giv- ing me Paloma’s work. I love you both for it.” Blaze was immensely relieved that this dreaded crisis had come and gone; but wishing to make assurance doubly sure, he contorted his features into a smile the like of which his daughter had never seen, and in a disguised voice inquired, “Now where do you reckon you ever saw me?” The seamstress shook her head. “E don’t know, but I'll place you before long. Anyhow, I'm glad you aren't hurt. From the way you called Paloma I thought you were. I'm handy around sick people, so I—" “Listen !" Paloma interrupted. “There's someone at the front door," She left the room; Blaze was edging after her when he heard her utter a stifled scream and call his name, Now Paloma was not the kind of girl to scream without cause, and her ery brought Blaze to the front of the house at a run. But what he saw there reassured him momentarily; nothing was in sight more alarming than one of the depot hacks, in the rear seat of which was huddled the figure of a man, Paloma was flying down the walk toward the gate, and Phil Strange was awaiting on the porch, As Blaze flung himself into view the latter exclaimed 2 “I brought him straight bere, Mr, Jones, ‘cause I knew you was his best friend.” “Who? Who is it?” “Dave Law. He must have come in on the noon train. Anyhow, I found him—like that." The two men hurried toward the road, side by side. “What's wrong with him?” Blaze de- manded, “I don't know. He's queer—he'’s off his bean. I’ve had a hard time with him.” Paloma was in the carriage at Dave's side now, and calling his name; but Law, it seemed, was scarcely con- scious. He had slumped together; hie face was vacant, his eyes dull. He was muttering to himself a queer, delirious jumble of words, “Oh, dad! He's sick—sick,” Paloma sobbed, “Dave, don't you know us? You're home, Dave. Everything ix— all right now.” “Why, you'd hardly recognize the boy!" Blaze exclaimed; then he adde@ his appeal to his daughter's. But they could not arouse the sick man from his coma. “He asked me to take him to Lam Palmas,” Strange explained. “Looks to me like a sunstroke.” Paloma turned an agonized face ta her father. “Get a doctor, quick,” she implored; “he frightens me.” But Mrs. Strange had followed, an@® now she spoke up in a matter-of-fact tone: “Doctor nothing,” she said. “E know more than all the doctors. Pas loma, you go into the house and get a bed ready for him, and you men lug him in. Come, now, on the run, all of you! I'll show you what to do.” She took instant charge of the situation, and when Dave refused to leave the carriage and began to fight off hig friends, gabbling wildly, it was she who quieted him. Elbowing Blaze al her husband out of the way, she 1 Def Le VALCNTING “I'm Going to Pack His Head in it - the young man’s frenzied clutch from the carriage and, holding his hands in hers, talked to him in such a way that he gradually relaxed. It was she who helped him out and then supported him into the house. It was she who got him upstairs and into bed, and it was she who finally stilled his babble. “The poor man is burning up with «we fever,” she told the others, “and fevers are my long sult. Get me some towels and a lot ef ice.” Blaze, who had watched the snake charmer’s deft ministrations with mingled amazenient and suspicion, in quired: “What are you going to de with {ce?." Ice ain't medicine.” “I'm going to pack his head in it.” Blaze was horrified. “Do you want to freeze his brain?” Mrs. Strange turned on him angrily. “You get out of my way and mind your own business. ‘Freeze his brain!” With a sniff of indignation she pushed past the interloper. But Blaze wos waiting for her when she returned a few moments later with dowls and bottles and various reme- dies which she had commandeered. He summoned sufficient courage to block her way and inquire: “What you got there, now, ma’am?” Mrs. Strange glared at him balefully. With un effort at patience she im quired; “Suy! What ails you, any-. (Continued on Page 7) sce

Other pages from this issue: