Evening Star Newspaper, May 8, 1897, Page 21

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1897-24 PAGES. 21 THE THREE The Big Strike on a Written for The fey BY BRET 1897, (Copstight, DS ENO OOM WOON See) =) 5 Ase. Se) Chapter Hi—Continued From Last) Saturday. He was obliged to look up at her as he rose. Mrs. Horncastle was sitting ere beautiful and dazzling as even he had nev- er seen her before. For his resolution had suddenly lifted a great weight from her shoulders—the dangerous meeting of hus- band and wife the next morning, and its results, whatever they might be, had been quietly averted. She felt, too, a half- frightened joy even in the constrained manner in which he had imparted his de- termination. That frankness which even she had sometimes found so crushing, was gone. “I really think you are quite right,” she sail, rising also, “and, besides, you see, it wiil give me a chance to talk to her as you wished.” “To talk to her as I wished,” echoed Bar- ker, abstractedly t “Yes, about Van Loo, you know,” said | Mrs. Horncastle, smiling. inlyabout Van Loo, of course,” 4, hurriedly. ."" said Mrs. Horncastle, bright- TH tell her. Stay,” she interrupted herself bherriediy Why need I say any- thing about your having been here at all? It might only annoy her, as you yourself ; And the suggest.” She stopped breathlessly, with parted if vaguely. a like ual truth- ightly hesitat tinued Mrs. Horncastle, no- ou krow you can always tell ry. And.” she added, hievousness, “as she was coming, I really ne sophis pleased Barker, even though it put him into a certain retaliating attitude toward his wife which he was not aware of feeling. Bu Mrs. Horncast yful attitude. “Don't say anything He moved to the door, with his soft, broad-brimmed hat swinging between his fingers. She oticed for the first time that he r in his long black serape s. and. eddly enough, mach the hero of an amorous tr Loo. “I know.” she said bright- eager to get back to your old it would be selfish for me to longer. You have had a but you have made it pieas- telling me what you thought ou go I want you to to keep that good frankly in contra: traint of Bar! if they had and w the 0: ithoyt looking up, r pulses seemed to ‘cord and the He could rstandi & by the open door 1 down the nly closed and 1 ct that Mr now that 1 She Presentiy | in the courtyard, but | e the rattle of wheels more | clatter of a horseman. Tren } sudden sense of } woman still hiding band. and felt a momer ation of spirit. ¢ | ary | ainly | haps ti piness only the rew sult was to oneiliation to be her | « F sil, as if the door of Mr m jar to a passage, calling 1 even penetrated the * parlor, expecting to hing there Then dden possession of her; the mis- Demorest and the Blacksmith. @table wife had repent her conceaim 4 crept downstairs | to await her in the office. She | had told him new He, had begged | him to take her with him, and Barker, of | had ass Yet, she now knew he had he: the rattling wheels 1 of the clattering hoofs she had ed for. They had gone together, as he buggy. y_down the stairs and en- The overworked clerk was busy and querulously curt. These women were always asking such idiotic questions. Yes, Mr. Barker had just gone. “With Mrs. Barker in the buggy?" asked Horncastle. i of her act and of “No, as he came—on horseback. Mrs. Barker left half an hour ago.” “Alone?” This was apparently too much for the long-suffering clerk. “He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, and ther, with painful precision TS ON OWO NONE VON Or, VENOM OOD Gehsekse) seis) Se Sp of | ¢ @nd accenting every word with his pencil on the de ‘ore him, said deliberately: “Mrs. ¢ Barker—left—here—with her— man—she—was—always—asking exactly — 9:35." work again. 1, ran up the stair- sitting room slamming the door behind her, halted the center of the room, paniing. evect, Dbesutiful and menacing. And she was elcne in this empty room, this dezertad hotel. From this very room her own hus- band had left her with a brutality on his lips. From this room the fool and Mar @he had tried to warn had gone to her ruin As PARTNERS; Heavy Tree Hill, Evening Star, HARTE. by Bret Harte.) Ne PINUS: We Ase} seh: with a swindling hypocrite. And from this rocm the only man in the world she ever cared for had gone forth bewildered, wronged and abused, and she knew now she could nave kept and comforted him. Chapter Iv. When Philip Demorest left the stage coach at the Cross Roads he turned into the only wayside house, the blacksmith’s shop, and declaring his intention of walk- ing over to Hymettus, asked permission to leave his handbag and wraps until they could be sent after him. The blacksmith was surprised that this “likely mannered,” aistinguished-looking “city man” should walk eight miles when he could ride, and tried to dissuade him, offerirg his own buggy. But he was still more surprised when Demorest, laying aside his duster, took off his coat and, slinging it on his arm, prepared to set forth with the good- hbumered assurance that he would do the dista: in a couple of hours and get in in time for supper. “I wouldn't be too sure of that,” said the blacksmith grimly, “or even of getting a room. They're a stuck- up lot over there, and they ain't goin’ to hump themselves over a chap who comes trapesin’ along the road like any tramp, with nary bageag: But Demore aughingly accepted the j tisk, and, taking his stout stick in one hand. pressed a gold coin into the black- nith's palm, which was, however, declined ith such reddening promptness that Dem- thought of it with a gravity he had not felt before. He wondered who had named it. There was no suggestion of the soft, sensuous elegance of the land he had left in those great heroics of nature before him. Those encrmous trees were no woods for fauns or dryads; they had their own god-like majesty of bulk and height, and as he at last climbed the summit and saw the dark-helmeted head of Black Spur be- fore him, and beyond it the pallid, spirit- ual cloud of the Bierras, he did not think of Olympus. Yet for a moment he was startled as he turned to the right by the Doric-columned facade of a temple painted by the mocnbeams and framed in an open- ing of the dark woods before him. It was not until he had reached it that he saw that it was the new post office of Heavy Tree Hill. And now the buildings of the new settle- ment began to faintly appear. But the obscurity of the shadow and the equally disturbing unreality of the moonlight con- fused him in his attempts to recognize the ola landmarks. -A broad and well-kept winding road had taken the place of the old, steep, but direct, trail to his cabins He had walked for some moments in un- certainty, when a sudden sweep of the road brought the full crest of the hill above and before him, crowned with a ttara of lights, overtopping a long base of flashing windows. That was all that was left of Heavy Tree Hill. The old foreground of “buckeye” and odorous ceanothus was gene. Even the great grove of pines be- hind it had vanished. There was already a stir of life in the road, and he could see figures movin? slowly along a kind of sterile, formal ter- race spread with a few dreary marble vases and plaster statues which had re- placed the natural slope and the great quartz buttresses of outcrop that support- ed it. Presently he entered a gate and soon found himself in the carriage drive leading to the hotel veranda. A number of fair promenaders were facing the keen mountain night wind in wraps and furs. Demorest had replaced his coat, but his beots were red with dust, and as he as- cended the steps he could see that he was eyed with some superciliousness by the guests and considerable suspicion by the servants. One of the latter was approach- ing him with an insolent smile when a figure darted from the vestibulé, and, brushing the waiter aside, seized Dem- orest’s two hands in his and held him at arm's length. “Demorest, old man!” “Stacy, old cha: “But where's your team? I’ve had all the spare ‘ostlers and hall boys listening for you at the gate. And where's Barker? When he found you'd given the dead cut to the raiiroad—his railroad, you know—hé loped over to Roomville after you.” Demorest briefly explained that he had HE GLANCED AT IT, AND IN A GRAVE VOICE SAID: “THERE IS SOME- THING orest as promp The habiis of ed and apologized. travel had been N strong on him, and he felt a slight } patriotle thrill as he said, with a grave smile, “Thank you, then; and thank you ll more for re me that I am among my ‘own people,’ and stepped y | lightly out into the road. The air was still deliciously cool. but warmer currents from the heated pines be- gan to alternate with the wind fror He found himseif some through a stratum of hot air, ich seemed to exhale from the wood » While his head and breast were by ihe mountain bree He felt the ication of the baimy scented air and the five years of care and n ress laid upon his shoulders | had last breathed its fragra: from them like a burden. > had been but li here road was w er, but the gr edu 1 mount- before Herz he stage coach had tful morning when they re coming out of tHeir camp life into the wor! civilization; a little fur- | ther back the spot where Jack Hamlin had at grim memento of the of their cabin, which he nee. He half smiled again ‘ous interest that had made with the intention of some day returning to bury it, with all recol- lections of the deed, under the site of the old cabin. As he went on in the vi med to grow as elastic as in the old of their bitter but hopeful struggle for fortune, when he had gayly returned from his weekly tramp to Boomville laden with the on procured by their cant earni % credit. Thos ere the days y er living image s 1 pired his heart with faith and hope; When everything was yet possible to youth and iove, and before the ir ny of fate had given him fortune with one hand only to ithdr: her with the other. It was strange and cruel that coming back from his quest of rest and forgetfulness ne should find only these youthful and san- suine dreams revive with his reviving vigor. He walked on more hurriedly as if to escape them, and was glad to be di- y one or two passing carryalls and nes filed with gayly dressed pleas- jes—evidently visitors to Hymettus d him on the road. Here were verted re. He led the train i mules of the old days, the file of pole-and-basket-carrying Chinese, ¢ squaw with the pappoose strapped to her shoulders, or the wandering and foot- ctor, who were the only way- farers used to meet. He contrasted their halts and friendly greetings with the insolent curiosity or undisguised contempt of the carriage folk, and smiled as he thought of the warning of the blacksmith. But this did not iong divert him; he found himself again returning to his previous thought. Indeed, the face of the young girl in one of the carriages had auite startled him with its resemblance to an old memory of his lost love, as he saw her—her frail, pale elegance encompassed in laces as she lean- ed back in her drive through 5th avenue, with eyes that lit up and became trans- figured only as he passed. He tried to think of his useless quest in search of her last resting place abroad; how he had been baffled by the opposition of her surviving relations, already incensed by the thought that her decline had been the effect of her hepeless passion. He tried to recall the few frigid lines that reconveyed to him the last letter he had sent her, with the announcement of her death and the hope that “his persecutions” would now cease. A wild idea had sometimes come to him out of the very insufficiency of his knowl- edge of this climax, but he had always but it aside as a precursor of that madness which might end his ceaseless thought. And row it was returning to him here, thousands of miles away from where she was peacefully sleeping, and even filling him with the vigor of youthful hope. - ‘The brief mountain twilight was giving way now to the radiance of the rising moon. He endeavored to fix his thoughts upon his partners, who were to meet him at Hymettus after these long years of separation. Hymettus! He recalled now the odd co- incidence that he had mischlevously used as a@ gag to his questioning fellow traveler, but now he had really come from a villa near Athens to find his old house thus classically rechristened after it, and WRONG HERE.” walked by the old road and probably missed him. But by this time the waiters, crushed by the spectacle of this travel- worn stranger's affectionate reception by the great financial magaate, were wildiy applying their brushes and handkerchiets to his trousers and boots until Stacy again swept them away. “Get off, all of you! Now, Phil, you come i The house is full, but T've made ager give you a lady's drawing room suite. When you telegraphed you'd meet us here there was no chance to get anything else. it’s really Mrs. Van Loo’s family Suite, but they were sent for to go to Marysville yesterday, and so we'll run you in for the night.” sted Demorest. ‘aid Stacy, dragging him 1 pay for it, and I reckon the n't cbject to taking her share either, or she isn’t Van lome.”” away old lady w of the da Loo’s mot! Demorest himself by the energ Stacy, obsequious manager, to a handsomely whose bath thrust him. felt hurried forward preceded by the through a corridor, furnished suite, into room Stacy incontinently ‘ash up, and, by the time you're ought to be back, and we'll It's waiting for us in the supp other room. “But how about Barker, the dear boy persistel Demorest, holding open the door. “Tell me, is he well and happy?” “About as well as we all are,” said Sta- ey quickly, yet with a certain dry signifi- cance. “Never mind now; wait until you see him.” ‘The door closed. When Demorest had finished washing and wiped away the last red stain of the mountain road, he found Stacy seated by the window of the larger sitting room. In the center a table was spread fer supper. A bright fire of hickory logs burned in a marble hearth between two large windows that gave upon the d tant outline of Black Spur. As Stacy turn- ed toward him, by the light of the shaded lamp and flickering fire, Demorest had a good look at the face of his old friend and partner. It was as keen and energetic as eve! with perhaps an even more hawk-like ac: tivity visible in the eye and nostril, but it was more thoughtful and reticent’ in the lines of the mouth under the closely clipped beard and mustache, and when he looked up at first there were two deep ilnes or furrows across his low, broad forehead. He fancied, too, that there was a little of the old fighting look in his eye, but it soft- ened quickly as Demorest approached, and he burst out with his curt but honest single syllable laugh. “Ha! You look a little less ilke a roving Apache than you did when you came. I really thought the waiters were going to chuck you. And you are tanned! Darned if you don’t look like the profile stamped on a continental penny! But here’s luck and a welcome back, old man! Demorest passed his arm arcund the neck of his seated partner, and, grasping his up- raised hand, said, looking down with a smile, ‘And now, about Barker.” “Oh, Barker—d-n him! He's the same un- shakable, unchangeable, ungrow-up-abl3 Barker! With the devil’s own luck, too! Waltzi into risks and waltzing out of "em. With fads enough to put him in tae insane asylum if people did rot prefer to keep him out of it to help ’em. Always believing in everybody, until they actually believe In themselves and—shake him! And he’s got a wife that ‘’s making a fool of eenele and I shouldn’t wonder, in time, of Demorest pressed his hand over his part- ner’s — rete eee You know you never really that marriage, simply because you thought that old man Carter made a good thing of it. And you never seem to have taken into consideration the happiness Barker got out of it. For he did love the girl. And he still is happy, is he sacl ag added, quickly, as Stacy uttered a grun' “As happy as a man can be who has his child here with a nurse while his wife is gallivanting in San Francisco, and throw- ing her money—and Lerd knows what else —away at the bidding of a smooth-tongued, shady operator.” “Does he complain of it?” asked Demor- est. “Not he; the fool trusts her!” said Stacy “That is happiness! curtly. Demorest laughed. Sree — bie us him that. ut I've her that his affairs h: again Pre built RE “He built this railroad and this hote’ The bank owns both now. He didn’t ee keeping money in them after they were a success; said"he wasn’t an engineer nor hotel keeper, and drew it out to find some- thing new. But here! he cames.” he added, their old attitudes, looking from the fire- as a horseman dashed into the drive be- | light to the distant bulk of Black Spur fore the hotel. “Quéstim him yourself. You know you and-he: sways get along best without me.” mt In another mometitt Barker had buret into the room, and irhis Mirst tempestuous greeting of Demores#®the ‘fatter saw little change in his youngér paftner, as he held him at arms’ length t look at him. “Why, Barker, old boy, you taverrt got a bit older since the day when—you! remember—you went over to Boomvilley to cash your bonds, and then came back and burst upon us like this to tell us-you were a beggar.” “Yes,” laughed Barker, “and all the while you fellows were helding four aces sha of the big up your sleeve in t strike = ae “And you, Georgy. old boy,” returned Demorest, swinging -Barker’s two hands backward and forward, “‘were holding a royal flush up yours;fn the shape of your engagement to Kitty.” The fresh color died out of Barker's cheek, even while the frank laugh was still on his mouth. He turned his face for a moment toward the window, and a swift and almost involuntary glance passed be- tween the others. But he almost as quickly turned his glistening eyes back to Demor- est again, and said eagerly: “Yes, dear Kitty! You shall see her and the baby to- morrow.”” Then they fell upon the supper with the appetites of the past, and for some mo- ments they all talked eagerly and even noisily together, all at the same time, with the even spirit of the past. They recalled every detail of their old life; eagerly and impetuously recounted the old struggles, hopes and disappointments, gave the strange importance of schoolboys to un- important events, and a mystic meaning to a shibboleth of their own; roared over old jokes with a delight they had never since given to new; reawakened idiotic nick- names and by-words with intense enjoy- ment; grew grave, anxious and agonized over forgotten names, trifling dates, use- less distances, ineffective records’ and feeble chronicles of their domestic econ- omy. It was the thoughtful and melan- choly Demorest who remembered tie exact color and price paid for a certain shirt bought from a greaser peddler amidst the envy of his companions; it was the finan- cial magnate, Stacy, who couid inform them what were the exact days they nad salaratus bread and when flapjacks: it was the thoughtless and mercurial Barker who called with unheard-of accuracy, amid the applause of the others, the full name of the Indian squaw who assisted at their washing. Even then they were almost feverishly loth to leave the subject, as if the past, at least, was secure to them still, and they were even doubtful of their own free and full accord in the present. Then they slipped rather reluctantly into their later experiences, but with scarcely the same freedom or spontaneity; and it was ncticeable that these records were elicited from Barker by Siacy or from Stacy by Barker for the information of Derorest, often with chaffing and only under good- humored protest. ‘Tell Demorest how you broke the ‘Copper Ring,’ from the ‘ad- miring Barker, or “Tell Demorest how your d—d foolishness in buying up the light and plant of the Ditch Company gat you control of the ranread,” from the mis- chievous Stacy, were challenges in point. Presently they left the table, and, to the astonishment of the waiters who’ re- meved the cloth, common briarwood pipes, thoughtfully provided by Barker in com- memoration of the past, were lit, and they ranged themselves in armchairs before the fire quite unconsciously in their old atti- tudes. The two windows on either side of the hearth gave them the same view that the open door of the old cabin had made familiar to them—the league-long valley below, the shadowy buik of;the Black Spur rising in the distance, andy still more re- mote, the pallid snoweline that soared even beyond its crest. 2 i As in the old time they “were for many moments silent; and then; as in the old time, t was the irrepressitile Barker who broke the silence. “But Stacy does not tell you anything about his friend, the beauti- ful Mrs. Horncastle. ’ You ‘know, he’s the guardian of one of the’ fiiest women in California—a woman as noble and gener- ous as she is handsome. Amd think of it! He's protecting her {rom her brute of a husband, and looking after her property. Isn't it good and chitalroug of him?” The irrepressible laughter of the two men brought only wonder ‘and “reproachful in- dignation into the widely pened eyes of Barker. He was perfectly sincere. He had been thinking of Stacy's admiration for Mrs. Horncastle in his ride from Boomville, and, strange to say, ‘yet characteristic of. his nature, it was the equally natural out- come of his interview with her and the sin- gular effect that she had upon him. That he (Barker) thoroughly sympathized with her only convinced him that Stacy must feel the same for her, and that, no doubt, she must respond to him equally. And how noble it was in his old partner, with his advantages of position in the world and his protecting relations to her, not to avail himself of this influence upon her generous nature. If he himself—a mar- ried man and the husband of Kitty—was so conscious of her charms, how much greater it must be to the free and inex- perienced Stacy. The italics were in Barker's thought, for in those matters he felt that Stacy and even Demorest, occupied in other things, had not his knowledge. ‘There was no idea cr consciousness of heroically sacrificing himself or Mrs. Horncastle in this; I am afraid there was not even an idea of a superior morality in himself in giving up the ibility of loving her. Ever since d first seen her he had fancied i y liked her—indeed, Kitty fancied it, too—and it seemed almost providential now that he should know how to assist his old partner to happiness. For it was in- conceivable that Stacy should not be able to rescue this woman from her shameful bonds, or that she should not consent to it through his (Barker's) arguments and entreaties. To a “champion of dames” this seemed only right and proper. In his un- failing optimism he translated Stacy's laugh as embarrassment and Demorest’s as only ignorance of the real question. But Demorest had noticed, if he had not, that Stacy's laugh was a little nervously pro- longed for a man of his temperament, and that he had cast a very keen glance at Barker. A messenger arriving with a tele- gram brought from Boomville called Stacy momentarily away, and Barker was not slow to take advantage of his absence. “I wish, Phil,” he said, hitching his chair cleser to Demorest, “that you would think seriously of this matter, and try to per- stade Stacy—who, I believe, is more inter- ested in Mrs. Horncastle than he cares to show—to put a little of that determination in love that he has shown in business. She's an awfully fine woman, and in every way suited to him, and he is letting an ab- surd sense of pride and honor keep him from influeucing her to get rid of her im- possible husbard. There’s no reason,” con- tinued Barker in a burst of enthusiastic simplicity, “that because she has found some one she likes better, and who would treat her better, that she should continue to stick to that beast whom all California would gladly see her divorced from. I nev- er could understand that kind of argument, could you?” Demorest looked at his com- panion’s glowing cheek and kindling eye with a smile. “A good deal depends upon the side from which you argue. But, frankly, Barker boy, though I think I Jsnow,you in all your phases, I am not prepayed ygt to accept you as a matchmaker. However, I'll think it over and find cut somethipg more of this from your goddess, whe seems to have be- witched you both. Bui,.what does Mistress Kitty say to your admigatiqn?” Barker's face cloyded,; but instantly brightened. “Oh, they’re the best of friends; they're quite like us, :youoknow, even to larks they have together.” He stopped and colored at his slip. Byt-Demorest, who had noticed his change of expression, was more concerned at the look of -palf incredulity and half suspicion which #tacy, who had re-entered the room in, time to hear Bark- er’s speech, was regarding his unconscious younger partner. “I didn’t know that |Mrs.,Horncastle and Mrs. Barker were such friends,” he said dryly ac he sit do But his face Presently beccme so abstragted that Dem- orest said gayly: “Well, Jim, I'm glad, I’m not a Napoleon of finance! I couldn't, stand, it to have my privacy or my relaxation broken in upon at any moment as yours was just now. What confounded somersaults in stocks has put that face on you?” Stacy looked up quickly, with his brief laugh. “I’m afraid you'll be none the wiser it I told you. That was a pony express messenger from New York. You remember how Barker, that night of the strike, when we were sitting here, or very near here, to- gether, proposed that we ought to have a pessword or a symbol to call us together in case of emergency for each other's help. Well, let us say I have two partners, one in Europe and one in New York. That was tay Dasayrord ae “And, I hope, ro more gerious ours,” added Demorest. Stacy laughed his short laugh. Neverthe- less the conversation di again. The Reseriah Bayety of ae early part of ine ning was gone, and they seemed to sufiering from the reaction. They fell into without a word. The occasional sound of the voices of promenaders on the veranda at last ceased; there was the noise of the shutting of heavy doors below, and Barker rose. “You'll excuse me, boys, but I must go and say ‘Good night’ to little ‘Sta,’ and see he’s all right. I haven't seen him since 1 got back. But’—to Demorest—‘you'll see him tomorrow, when Kitty comes. It is as much as my life is worth to show him before she certifies him as being present- able.” He paused, and then added: “Don't wait up, you fellows, for me; sometimes the little chap won't let me go. It’s as if he thought, now Kitty's away, I was all he had. But I'll be up early in the morn- ing and see you. I dare say you and Stacy have a heap to say to each other on busi- ness, and you won't miss me. So I'll say ‘good night.’”” He laughed lightly, pressed the hands of his partners in his usual hearty fashion, and went out of the room, leaving the gloom a little deeper than be- fore. It was so unusual for Barker to be the first to leave anybody or anything in trouble that they both noticed it. “But for that,” said Demorest, turning to Stacy as the door closed, “I should say the dear fellow was absolutely unchanged. But he seemed a little anxious tonight.” “I shouldn’t wonder. He's got two wo- men on his mind, as if one was not enough.’ “I don’t understand. You say his wife is foolish, and this other—” “Never mind that now,” interrupted Stacy, getting up and putting down his Pipe. “‘Let’s talk a little business. That other stuff will keép.”” “By all means,” said Demorest, with a smile, settling down into his chair, a litle wearily, however. “I forgot busine: And I forgot, my dear Jim, to congratulate you. I've heard all about you even in New York. You're the man, who, according to every- body, now holds the finances of the P; cific slope in his hands. And,” he added, leaning affectionately toward his old part- ner, “I don’t know any one better equipped in honesty, straightforwardness and cour- age for such a responsibility than you.” “I only wish,” said Stacy, looking thoughtfully at Demorest, “that I didn't hold nearly a million of your money in- cluded in the finances of the Pacific slope. “Why,” said the smiling Demorest, ‘as long as I am satisfied?” “Because I am not. If you are satisfied, I'm a wretched idict and not fit for my Position. Now, look here, Phil. When you wrote me to sell out your shares in the Wheat Trust I was a little staggered. I knew your gait, my boy, and I knew, too, that while you didn’t know enough to trust your own opinions of feeling, you knew too much to trust any one’s opinion that was not first class. So I reckoned you had the straight tip, but I didn't see it. Now, I ought not to have been staggered if I was fit for your confidence, or, if I was stag- gered, I ought to have had enough con- fidence in myself not to mind.you. See?” “I admit your logic, old mai said Dem- orest, with an amused face, ‘but I don’t see your premises. When did I tell you to sell out’ “Two days ago. You wrote just after you arrived.” “I have never written to you since I ar- rived. I only telegraphed to you to know where we should meet, and received your message to come here.” “You never wrote me from San Francis- co?” “Never.” Stacy looked concernedly at his friend. Was he in his right mind? He had heard of cases where melancholy brooding on a fixed idea had affected the memory. He took from his pocket a letter case, and, se- lecting a letter, handed it to Demorest without speaking. He glanced at it, turned it over, read its ccntents, and in a grave voice said: “There is something wrong here. It is like my handwriting, but I never wrote the letter, nor has it been in my hand before.” Stacy sprang to his side. “Then it's a forgery.” “Wait a moment.” Demorest, who, al- though very grave, was the most collected of the two, went to the writing desk, seleci- "a sheet of paper and took up a pen. ow,” he said, “dictate that letter to me.” Stacy began, Demorest’s pen rapidly fol- lowing him: “ “Dear Jim: “On receipt of this get rid of my Wheat Trust shares at whatever figure you can. From the way things pointed in New interrupted Demorest. said Stacy impatiently. sakl Demorest plain- did you ever know me to write such a sentence as the ‘way things pointed? * “Let me finish reading,” said Stacy. This literary sensitiveness at such a moment seemed little short of puerility to the man of business. “From the way things pointed in New York,’ continued Stacy, ‘and from private advices received, this seems to be the only prudent course before the feathers begin to fly. Longing to see you again and the dear old stamping ground at Heavy Tree. Love Barker. Has the dear old boy been at any fresh crank lately? Yours, ‘PHIL DEMOREST.’” (To be continued.) —— ae She Raised the Boys. From the Chicago Record. Nine men sat in an unbroken row on one side of an Alley “L” car the other morn- ing. Near the door sat one lone woman. Five women were standing, swinging on to straps, as the train pulled out of Con- gress street terminus. At 12th street two more women came in, standing before a row of men who couldn’t see over their newspapers. There was a mischievous twinkle in the eyes of the solitary young woman sitting near the door. At 18th street the train slowed up with a Squeaking and grinding of wheels. The gates rattled, and with a swing a young man in @ fawn-colored coat, with a bunch of carnations in his buttonhole, stepped in- to the car. He was just reaching for a strap, when the young woman at the door touched him on the arm. He looked around inquiringly. The young woman was standing, with a perfectly serious look in her face. “Won't you have this seat?” she asked in a beautifully modulated voice. With his mouth open, the young man in his astonishment sat down. But it was only for a moment. In the roar of laughter which followed every wo- man in the group found a seat. +e + —______ Chile’s Powerful Fleet. From the London Standard. From Plymouth there has just set sail the most powerfyl naval squadron that has ever crossed the Atlantic under any South American flag. Its destination is Val- paraiso, and it constitutes the recent ad- dition to the fleet of the Chilean republic. The squadron is composed of ten vessels, namely, the armed cruiser Esmeralda of 7,000 tons, the Ministro Zentono of 4,000 tons and tke Almirante Simpson of 1,000 tons; the transport Andamos of 5,000 tons, four torpedo destroyers, capable of making thirty knots an hour, and a couple of large torpedo boats for ocean use, with a speed of twenty-seven knots. The Esmeralda is declared by naval experts In England to be one of the most powerful ironclads afloat. Besides these ships, Chile has still build- ing in England an ironclad of nearly 10,- 000 tons, which is to bear the name of O'Higgins, a schoolship, and six torpedo boats. With the fleet that Chile has afloat and the vessels now in course of construc- tion Chile bids fair to become in time a powerful rival of the United States for the raval supremacy of the western hemi- sphere. + A May Queen. From the Wave. A gallant captain was called up by his colonel to explain his assaulting the sen- try on his return to barracks after dinner on the previous night. The captain had forgotten the incident entirely. The sen- try declared that the officer was evidently drunk. The captain's Irish soldier servant, however, emphatically protested that his Master was sober. “How is it that you are so sure that he was sober?” asked the colonel. “Did he speak to you?” “He did, sorr.” “What did he say?” “He tould me to be sure and call him early in the morn- ing, sorr.” “That seems all right,” said the colonel; “and did—ah—did the captain say why he wished to be called early?” “He did, sorr. He said that he was going to be Queen of May. One Hindrance. From the Somerville Journal. Ned—“T’d marry that girl if it weren't for one thing.” ‘Tom—“What's that?” Ned—“She refused me last night.” ——+e+—____ “Want” ads. in The Star ‘because ANHEUSER-BUSCH BREWING ASS'N, THE LEADING BREWERY IN THE WORLD. Brewers of the Most Wholesome and Popular Beers. The Original Budweiser The Michelob The Muenchener Served on all Pullman The Faust The Anheuser The Pale Lager Dining and Buffet Cars. Served on all Wagner Dining and Buffet Cars. Served on all Ocean and Lake Steamers. Served in all First Class Hotels. Served in the Best Families. Served in all Fine Clubs. Carried on nearly every Man-ol-War and Cruiser. Served at most of the United States Army Posts and Soldiers’ Homes. The Greatest Tonic, ‘‘Malt-Nutrine” the Food-drink, is prepared b this Association, Had Never Seen a T: A correspondent of the Philadelphia Times writes from Colorado Springs as fol- lows: “I'm from Missouri, and they'll have to show me!” That is what John Duffer of Pike county, Missouri, remarked this morning as he was being patched up in the office of Dr. Creighton at Manitou. His face and hands were badly scratched where they had come in contact with the sharp gravel, there Wes a bruise over one eye where his head had struck against a fragment of Pike's Peak, one elbow felt “like a tarnation wild- cat had clawed it,” and there was a gen- eral feeling of ‘soreness “preity much everywhere,” 2s he explained it to the doc- tor, but he was alive and thankful. John had jumped from the platform of a Colorado Midland passenger train, at the entrance to the first tunnel above Manitou, while laboring under a mistake as to ihe destination of the train, which appeared to be plunging into the mountain side. You don't catch me lettin’ ‘em run me into the ground with any of their gol daru- ed trains, when I've got a through ticket to Cripple Creek in my pocket,” he re- marked, as the doctor took another stitch in his scalp and adjusted an artistic court plaster shingie on the swelling dome cver his right eye. “I'm pretty badly peeled up, but you bet I'm still on top, and that's where I’m going to stay.” And John Dutfer took a good-sized bite out of a mammoth piece of navy plug which he dug out of his pocket, and relapsed into “You see, doc,” said the Missourian, deluged the gas log in the doctor's firepla: with the overflow from his lips, “I was agoing ever to Cripple Creek to see what those gold mines look like, where they shovel up the stuff into a wagon and let her go at that, and find chunks of gold in the rocks. I had my grip and a bucket of grub in the car, ard just after the train left the depot J went out on the platform to lock at the mountains. Down on one side Was a holler, and up on tother side was a hill that I couldn't see to the top of, and cn all sides was mountains, and I couldn't see how the train was ever going to dodze them all. The little shelf the train wa running on kept wiggling through them hills lixe a snake in a plow field, and then I looked ahead and saw where a hill had been split plumb down to the ground to let the railroad through, and that was ail right, because I could see daylight on the other side. And then when the train went trough that split in the hill it switched around kinder to one side, and I could see the track ahead of the engine, and then I saw a big white mountain all covered with snow sticking clear up into the clouds, and nobody knows how much farther, and the next thing I knowed the cngine give a Screech like she was most scared to death, and I looked quick and the whole busine: was going plunk into a hole in the ground. And then I jumped.Came near getting killed but I fooied them that trip. You don’t catch me running up against any game that I don’t know nothing about, and I ain't going into anything that I don’t know the way out of. ‘Then I came down town to get patched up, Cripple Creek some other way, even if I have to walk.” “And what became of the train?” asked the doctor, who had been feeling of Dutier’s ribs to sce if they were all in place, “didn’t they stop for you top uothing. The last I saw of the darned thing it was still going into the hele, and I didn’t care whether it ever stopped or not. I wasn’t on it. Say, do you reckon I could get my bucket back if they get them out?” It took considerable time and the testi- mony of several witnesses to convince Mr. Duffer that the en train and its con- tents were not hopelessly buried in the in- terior of Pike's Peak, and quite a litt crowd acccmpanied him to the station, where Agent Dunaway telegraphed to Cas- cade to return one lunch pail and grip la- beled John Duffer, Pike county, Missouri. And as he left the station to fill up on “free soda biling right out of the ground,” Mr. Duffer explained, once ‘more: “When the train went into ‘that hole I thought we'd never see daylight again, and my only chance was to jump, and so I jumped. I'm from Missouri, and you'll have to show me!” see A Telling Summary. During the late exciting efforts to so far modify the prohibition laws in Towa as to allow the manufacture of liquor from the products of the state, a card bearing the following legend was largely circulated: PLEASE READ. From a bushel of corn the distiller gets four gallons of whisky. Whiloh ‘retatige!c.2.0.8052 0255.0 ss. The United States government gets. The farmer gets. The railroad company gets. The manufacturer gets. The retailer gets The consumer gets. The wife gets.. The children get. ‘The man that votes license or mulct saloon of manufacturers’ bill gets. Perdition and I'm going to | on a sweltering hot is highly essen- jal to comfort and health. It cools the blood, reduces your temperature, tones A the stomach. HIRES Rootbeer should be in every home, in every office, in every work- shop. A temperance drink, more health- ful than ice water, more delightful and satisfying than any other beverage pro- duced. x il oul hy the Charles Mir Philadeiphia. A pack: age makes 5 gallous, Sold ev. cryehers. cleaned by usat the end of a sea- can be sold as new. The, dges are straight. $1.50 per Blankets Goods called for and delivered. and lace curtains stored free, FRENCH SCOURER A, F, BORNOT, 9 AND DYER, 1103 G Street, N. W. DR.CHASES Blood-Nerve Food Ee Berne raKin > For Weak and Run Down People. The rict cetera org gg iigh ‘Living. overwork, nD ay ot eee A making the What it Does! "makin digestion perfect—it plid flesh, 1 unde "4 nin becomes. nc lity, stops all or vex, und as R , or five boxes $2. We can help you. | Write Us About Your Case. _ The Dr. Chase Company, 1512 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, mhi8-t ature Study Encouraged. From the Philadelphia Ledger. Teachers have a valuable ally in the Col- lege of Agriculture of the Corne!l Univer- sity, which undertakes to assist, free of charge, all teachers who want to introduce or extend nature study in their schools. The director, Mr. Roberts, says: “Nature study, or secing familiar things in a new light, is a valuable factor in education. How many people can explain, so that a child can understand, why water puts out fire; why some young squash plants bring their shells out of the ground on their backs and others do not; or show the dif- ference between a leaf-bud and a fruit-bud of the apple; or tell whence all the house flies come? The world is full of such com- mon things, about which people do not in- quire.” ————__+e- If you want anything, try an ad. in The Star. If anybody has what you wish, you will get an arswer. STUDIO OF A MODERN From Fil-gende Blatter, STILL LIFE ARTIST.