Evening Star Newspaper, April 17, 1921, Page 67

i | t ~ IME: High noon, with a.glorious te September sun. H Place: The grounds of the Milo County Falr and Gents' the end of the halter. To;rlz. 23 gouge rrows in the soll Mr. Sturnell, who had come quistly up to the group with his bear. ob. ;’Mn‘ iation. n:vad the “r,etr?tz .Y“gh grim tnz; Assoc es! . n't ‘wWon People and properties: Arriving amed to stay here and face throngs; the blank spaces of the grandstand darkening gradually; the inner oval gulping automobiles and horse-drawn buggies; the fabric of a balloon slowly bulking with the thrust of hot air, as if a gigantic musnroom were growing in the grassed Inclosure; horses of the aftarnoon™® card. ooded and blanket- ed, led in Slow promenate by swipes. Music: The excellent staccato of the Jaza stuff in the tents of the dancing girls, the whine of bladder whistles and the monotonous obligato of the merry-go-round panmelodians. All set! Such was the state of the Milo fair. A new management was endeavoring 1o make things hum. The old-timers. who placed horse-trotting above other attractions, were both resentful and skeptical. ~The old-timers grouped themselves at the horse end of the! in the quieter purlieus of the | ere they could hear them- | selves: talk. At the other end were| the thoughtless modern merrymakers, who enjoyed fakes and foolish shows ! and believed in the trend of the times | in amusements, and were densely ignorant of the importance of equine | pedigree and past performances. Therefore, o to speak, the two ideas were at w ith each other that day on the fair grounds; there were hints that there might be a clinch between conservatism and free rein. At any rate, old Horace P. Towle, down at the horse end, averred with disgust that he did not realize, till he arrived on the grounds, that the world had be- come so silly during the ten years of his retirement from the track. He was back this day, like a ghost from the past. Most horsemen in the state thought that old Horace P. Towle had been dead long before. “But let these newfanglers rave and hoot and howl,” said he. “They never can change my idea that a plain, straight hoss-trot is what folks really hanker for and is what they're willing to pay for. And I'd never be down to brass tacks like this, if I hadn’t been | cheated by a jodlggered renegade of i vle had only one horse in his “string.” | In the old days, when he and Llewel- | 1yn Sturnell were in partnership, they + followed the state circuit with eight or _ten trotters. In contrast to Mr. Towle, Mr. Stur- nell, in a dingy little tent at the upper and foolish end of the grounds, pro- fessed to see the signs of the times in the way of entertainment. He had given up horses. He had a small and * surly black bear that sometimes could , be induced to sit upright or stand on , his head occasionally, if sufficiently ! encouraged by a horsewhip and pro- fanity. Mr. Sturnell's son-in-law, as- ; sociated with him in the ownership of ! the little tent, had a tame moose. It was exhibited in the tent at 10 cents a look; for a modest sum Mr. Sturnell had been driving the animal on fair tracks, an exhibition half-mile. “The ely trotting bull moose in the world,” was the way the announcer's mega- phone put it. “1 stuck to hosses, and what hap- ens?” was Mr. Sturnell's lament. “What the gang didn’t get away from me on the track was gaffled Jodiggered renegade of a partner. * % x % VVWAY down at the end of the stalls a man was dragging a balky black bear; the man was Lell Sturnel And very near a gossiping group. Horace P. Towle was serving as as escort for a horse. Mr. Towle had thin legs that were curved i of ‘wishbone atyle, and he walked | almost on the sides of his feet. He | was humped over with the “sulky slouch,” and his driver’s cap was pro- vided with such a sugar-scoop of a iser that n:'t much of his face was ce om thé nose downward. iendjotidle “I can remember when them two were in partnership, stated a man. Who was paring an apple which he had sneaked from the exhibition building fruit display, “and they were doing the state fair cireuit with six £00d ones, every season.” He junked :: a cn::e otuanm; and at the morse: m the tip of his. knife-blade. “Making a clean-up!" e they had I remember the Cooper John and Bell§ Ellen,” said another informant. “Lell would al- ‘ways drive John to first money, seeing that John had a mark and a spavin 1and couldn’t be kept in the game I much longer. Hod would pull Belle till her lower jaw hung down like the tailboard of a cart, keeping her from a mark, and making sure of second money. The old cuss would look so innocent when the judges called him into the stand that they never had the heart to take him off and put an- other driver up. Buf there wasn't a Jockey on the circuit who didn't call’ ‘em ‘Push Lell' and ‘Hold-back Hod." 1 tell you, dishonesty may act like & ‘winner as far as the three-quarters pole but she quits like blazes on the homestretch!™ “Looks like it,” averred another. , “Here's Lell down here with that tame bear, making the bear stand on its head and then passing the hat; here’s Hod with only that twelve hun- dred pounds of cat-meat hitched onto & bone-spavin. For goodness sake— has he entered it? What class?”’ “Two-nineteen.” “The two of "em did well in partner. ship. What split "em?”" “Probably they got so used to cheat- in' outsiders in the trotting season that they turned around in the win- ter. in the slack time, and went to cheating each other to pass away time,” suggested the apple man. "At any rate, they wound up busted.” The next time Mr. Towle sauntered that way. mooking himself along on his thin legs, one of the group Sug- gested amiably that it was good to see an old-timer back in the game. again. “What are you going to give us in the two-nineteen today?” inquired one of them. “You have spoke to me kindly and asked a fair quistion: here's what I've got.” He stripped off hood and blank- et. “She’s Mustache Maud.” There was no comment for some mo- ments. The horsemen seemed to find some difficulty in getting any words out. Maud was of the ancient Gothic type of horse architecture, and her slatted sides suggested that ghe need- ed to be shingled. She had plenty of mane on her thin' neck, and on her 1ip a pair of luxuriant and cocked-up mustaches afforded plenty of reason for sobriquet. But her tail was as bare of hair as a batstick, and her four knees were hairless and were colored a sort of horizon blue. Mr. Towle explained promptly in regard to the kuees. “It's croton oil. It limbers ‘em, but it takes off the hair. However, when you depend on looks instead 'of limberness, you're apt to get the flag.” One of thne group kicked another on the shin slyly and the two strolled off together. “That's old Second- money Sal. 1 have driven her. She'll fool and standful of judges in the world. She'll round up her back un- der the whip for the whole mile, Jf they've got to be convinced that hard But on the homestretch a chain whip and a mouthful of cuss words can’t change her opinion that her wire position is second place. She ought to have a mark of two-ten. but she never led her fleld under the wire yet. I don't know how Hod ever found out where she was buried— but she must have been dead all of ten years!™ Meanwhile Mr. Towle was fondling the biue knees and explaining that she was a green horse. “When she gets a little age and s steadied down and loses the flighty notions that young critters have—-" Right then Maud seemed willing to back him in his claim of youthful- Dess She reared and snorted, kicked out all four feet at once. whirled and romped off, dragging her owner at | 1" He had a high-pitched voice which carried far. Helped by two other men. Mr. ‘Towle managed to anchor his animal far down the line of s “You're at the top of his voice. “You're a lia Mr. Towle inserted into his reply in kind a few words to flavor the speech. An elderly man on a fat horse came tittuping along the row of stalls. He wore a sash, and a shield on his cap announced him “Marshal.” “First call for the two-nineteen—first cal he shouted. “And here I be” lamented Mr. Towle, “with Maud all whewed up in G. worse'n a dancing kodobus, her mind all excited to a high pitch and took oft'n her business! That's whaa a bear can do to a high-spirited hoss!" Among the auditors at Towle's end of the line was a solemn individual with black whiskers and a black satchel; the latter inscribed: “Dr. Pullyard, V. §.” He went to Maud's owner and whispered in his ear. know, Doc, I know!" acknowl- edged Mr. Towle gratefully but hope- i ‘I have always, for years, trusted to you in all regular gladly MEANTIME. MR. TOWLE WAS EXPLAINING THAT SHE WAS A GREEN HORSE. ailments, but this is mental with her, Doc, this is mental!” Dr. Pullyard whispered some more, and was urgent and convincing. * ¥ ¥ ¥ AT last Mr. Towle, wagging his head doubtfully but submitting to ar- gument, led his horse around behind a feed-barn. “I'm still insisting that it's all nerves, Doc. “And all females have 'em,” agreed the veterinary, kneeling beside his open satchel. “The idea in treating nerves in a female is to get said female's mind off unto other subjects as soon as possible,” “What other subject in this case?’ inquired Maud's guardian, showing apprehensiveness. “Anything but a bear. It is told us by natural history that a horse is more afraid of a bear than of any- thing else. Now get a firm grip on; her halter, Hod.” plain that Dr. Pullyard, V. S., It w: knew hi: getting _a dose of medicine jorse. He palmed a bolus as big as a walnut. With the flat of the other hand he smacked & most ungentle- manly slap on the side of Maud's head. She opened her mouth in prompt anger, and he tossed in grabbed her by nose and under jaw, clamped the two together, kicked her in the side—and she swallowed. With several snaps of her eyelids, she blinked her astonishment, and then stared into the heavens with the man- ner of one who had begun to ask wild questions of the universe. “You see, Hod,” said the doctor, pat- ronizingly, “in a case like this, when the mind is taken off the systericus bearonical, as we physicians would put it, then the mind swings back all normal to what it was before. There is first a short period—" Mr. Towle was unable to wait to find out what that period was, in medical nomenclature. He went away from there with merely a layman's imper- fect knowledge that it was a kind of period that in no manner had any re- semblance to e full stop. Whether or not, in the general upheaval of her emotions, Maud no idea just where she was going, and was simply eager to be on her way, or felt some- thing terrible impending or progres: ing, and had a natural feminine han- kering to seek her own boudoir up the rows of stalls, is not of special mornent; the remains that she went back the way she had come, and Mr. Towle's dragging feet furrowed the soil more deeply. She came out of her absorption when she saw the bear ten feet ahead of her. With a sort of back hand- spring she showed her determination to have no association whatever with that odious animal. Mr. Towle was slatted around at the end of the halter in an excellent imitation of a wet dish- rae in_the hand of an angry scullion. Dr. Pullyard. displaying the alacrity of one who had been called in on the case, joined with others in anchoring the fugitive. “Hod. you shouldn’t have let her go back there where she could see that ‘bear,” said the doctor. have put her mind just where %t was before I treated her.” “Yes, and she realizes it. you pill- heaving son of old Medicabobulus, you!" yawled Mr. Towle. “She has hurried back for another dose!” he added, sa-castically. The voice of the marshal In the dis- tance: “All ready for the two-nine- teen cl “Look at her!” wailed Mr. Towle. She stood snorting, with her blue- zoned legs propped out like supports of a sawbuck. “Yes, between you and that damnation bear, look at her! What'n'ell her mind is on now I don’t know, but it aint on that two-nige- teen trot that they're calling up the fleld for! A high-bred. vallyble hoss completely pioogled! I'm going to sue this fair-management for letting bears and vet'inaries operate on these ground “Boys, there's a plot to keep me out of this two-nineteen class.” declared Mr. Towle, with passion. “They've al- ways been afraid of me on this circuit ever since 1 razooed them with old Danl K. They've been enickering with glee because they haven't scen for ten years whilst I've been arming. retired! But look at her!” . ‘She rs to be all right now, Un- cle Hod,” stated one qf the group. “I'm holding up this blanket so she can't see_that bear. “Tell you what, Hod,” volunteered a swipe, a veteran, “we’ll bring the sulky and the rest o' the rig down here and help you harness behind the feed barn.” “I'll be much obleeged.” returned the 0ld man gratefully. “We've got to show ‘em all that they can't keep a 800d hoss down!" The men who assisted Towle made themselves real adherents when Mr. Sturnell ventured that way with his bear; they drove the disturbers away with’ pitchforks. Mr. Towle was there with the fleld in scason fo weigh in and receive his number. There were eleven starte but Maud attracted the most atte tion. She was rigged out with about all the old gear that the veteran had been able to dig up from his relics of past plenty. Tbere were hopples and ’ | the fleld back to the start, business when it came 16| into a| H the pill, } “It seems to ! "TWIXT PUSH AND HOLDBACK quarter-boots and a “fish-pole™ that stuck out over her head. As for Mr. Towle, he was fully as much of & cu- riosity for & Dewer grandstand gen~ eration. His head was hunched down between his shoulders, and ‘was doubled so far forward that the peak of the huge visor nearly touched Maud's rump. His arms were stretch- ed almost to the saddle. ‘The Mllo Gents' Driving Assoclation had imported a professional starter from the city, a gentleman who be- lieved that he knew al] the tricks. Four times did the fleld score down. Four times, on account of the pecu- liar gymnastics of Maud, was there no word “Go!" The fourth time the starter yanked the bell cord so furi- ously that it broke. Mr. Towle and his outfit when skyrocketing ‘way round the turn, though the other horses stopped and whirled just be- yond the wire and jogged back. “Look here, Mustache Maud.” bawl- ed the starter, leaning far oter the rail when the offender came trailing 0 more of that! Stay in your position, and | keep that horse leveled!” 3 * % % * 3 { | \ R. Towle twisted his neck anhd | -1 turned up the gnarled, puckefy | face hidden under the visor. e I'm doing the best I can. But she's 811 | fussed up.” “Go down and turn at the distange post. Keep your place and I won't 16} | ‘em off ahead of you. Ten dollars fitte if you nose out that pole horse againf” The impatient grandstand crowd clapped their hands. = Maud seemed to have more equa: nimity when the field came down—#0 much so that the starter, his eyeb shifting, to the pole horse at the cruv cial moment, shouted “Go!" But right then Maud began to run. The crowd groaned and hooted: the pride of the professional driver was touched, and { he swore. Mr. Towle's charger did not run ail ¢he way for the mile, but the rest of her gyrations were fully as far from level trotting as a gallop would have been. Her gait took her over the ground at an amazing rate of speed. and she finished first with the crowd hooting disapproval. There was only one thing for the judges to do, and they did it; when the starter megaphoned the result, he wound up with: “Mustache Maud, distanced.” There was general plause. That settled the old man’s convictions. “I don't know how many tho dollars this plot has cost ‘em.’ fided Mr. Towle bitterly to the rail- bird crowd which surrounded him in {the stretch in front of the judges’ ! stand, “but you can see what | been = don I'm single-handed jag'inst ‘em He raised imploring face. i1l you let me come up there | Curt permission was given. | He went up the stairs only far | enough to project his head above the | edge of the opening. He exhibited ) wistful querying grief, rather than anger. “WIili you listen to a word?” “I don’t see as there’s much to be sall replied the starter. “You were the cause of my giving a rotten send- off. If there's any kick, it's coming from the others. “I done the best I could, jedges, considering the way a high-spirited hoss has been fussed up.” The eyes turned up to them from under the scoop visor pleaded. “There’s a plot on. It's because they're afraid of edges, [ i w You said a mouthful there,” stated one of the judges. “It's a | wonder they didn't’ go and climb ents, T admit that she tried every, j mait that's laid down in the back of the Old Farmer's Almanick. She also throwed in the Highiand fling and & !sand-jig for good measure, and tried i{to get up onto the sulky seat and ride with me. But you take a bear and a dose of pill-peppersass, both, and what do you expect a high-grade hoss to do?" The starter had repaired his bell- cord and was clanging summons for the next class. The judges were showing no interest in Mr. Towle's troubles. He came up two more steps on the stairs. He pounded the butt of his whip on the floor, trying to get attention. “And you have let in wild animiles! What's the next a hoss has got to get used to on these grounds? What in the blue streak o'—" “That's about enough of that bag- pipe stu the exasperated starter. with your horse to the stable.” “Ain’'t you going to let me start again?’ “Of course you can’t start. You were declared distanced.” Over the stairway was a drop door, secured by a hasp. The starter put his hand on the hasp. “Get out from under!" Mr. Towle ducked just in time: the heavy door banged down over his head. It was rather more than a gentle hint that Mr. Towle was definitely cxcluded from the further activities of the Milo Gents’ Driving Association. Back to the stable! But Mr. Towle's promptly when he | irit perked up w Mr. Sturnell | +the stall. Sitting on the upturned pai! the was writing on a sheet of brown 'paper when Towle came in sight. i He beckoned invitingly when Maud's owner stopped to pull the blanket over her eyes. “Oh, well, if you don't care to come any nigher to a man you have cheated jand robbed of all” called Mr. Sturnell, “stand where you are and enjoy your- self. It goes to the tune of ‘Come, listen, ye gay young bots’" Then he went on to squawk a “song,” his eyes on his screed. Bing song of Cephas—Cephas was & bear, Sing a song of Maudie—Maudie was a mare. T B i« anit the paFsnipe” ul uldn’ n| e par'snip, wl {rled 10 Rold Muud.'c PoT SnIP: when be That first verse was recejved by the gathering crowd with flattering ap- plause. “horus!” announced the songster. Born to be a_murderer, but to Could enly “steal ~borses, cous” Hormes ¥ “Second verse!™-Mr. Sturnell, having was ready to start in on something |etse. “JedgER. moyle. lous obstacles, such as wagons and | ten-thousand-dollar & Jarger andiencs, sang' more 1 m':":l“h’ and the whishing ASk the doo wihat-other-things o & bess ean mr'xf’i-tnm-—un—mnmh sot ‘em all. th “Chorus!™ Didn't have the courage to stesl & hos whole, BStole parts 1o swapping, did Horace P. Towle. “That's as far as I've got up to date,” stated Mr. Sturneil. ‘“Now Tl ask for pecace and quiet whilst T go on and compose! More: Verses and more singing later!” 1 * x % % MIT'S wrenching her feelings; know that”™ declared Mr. Towle when he and his assistants began to propel Maud in the direction of her stall, “but she's got to be put in where she can ca'm herself. And further- more I've got to have both hands free. That third verse ain't ever going to come out of that rinky-dinked son of a chickadee, not if I have to ram it back with the butt of a hosswhip.” The old man found plenty of willing helpers after he made that announoe- ment. her stall and tied her up. They fairly lugged Maud into Mr. Towle strode in front of the ab- bod poet, dusting palms with smart claps, having the air of one who had successfully accomplished a task and A circle of railbirds formed ith great promptitude. “Dare to slur and hout me, do you, you kittle-bellied hyumpus”’ Tho bard kept his seat and licked his pencil and rolled up his eyes in the abstraction of his epic nyod. “Say. I'm talking -to you!" shrieked 1nat contemptuous _indifference wrought Towle to to a fairly ecstatic pitch of anger. It was the childish rage of an old man. He wanted to kick and cuff this exasperating foe. But he could not lay hand on, or put foot to, & man who was sitting and paying no attention to him. Mr. Towle was not thinking clearly then, He merely felt that he wanted Mr. Sturnell to stand up and put up his dsts so that the accumulated grudge of the years might be attended to man-fashion. He invited Mr. Sturnall 0 stand up! That gentleman merel licked the point of his pencil an mused above the sheet of paper. In Mr. Towle's whirling thoughts was that instinctive knowledge that a man who can control himself under all other circimstances will never endure to have his dog kicked. If a dog will thus spring the trigger of endurance. why not a bear? This was_not reasoning sn the part of Mr. Towle—it was furious hope when he looked at the bear and saw that the bear was chained. And the bear was sleeping! Therefore, with a great deal of con- fidence in his own munity and in order to convert Mr. Sturnell into a :Ql“!’flrtfll. Mr. Towle kicked the e w ! 1 P Do that again and I'll massacree ye!" raged the poet, coming out of his meditation. That was encouraging. and with more vigor Mr. Towle immediately kicked the truggling bear once more. Yak! The fi time the bear leaped at the assailant, the chain held, and the captive fell in a heap. But the apprehensive bystanders scattered. having no faith in that chain. The snarling animal rose and leaped again with more fury—and the chain parted. Mustache Maud, having a neck that she could fold back easily, perceived her owner diving toward the door of the stall. The bear was bouncing at his heels. The snort which she emitted was ear-splitting. She leaped, broke her haiter and bowled over Mr. Towle in the doorway. When she was out- slde. moved by the spirit of self- protection, she whirled, gave the bear botk her heels and sent him rolling over and over. This fresh and more violent assault shifted the bear's at- tention from the prostrate Towle. In two seconds an enraged bear was doing his best to catoh up with a fu- gitive horse, and it was in no degree 2 hopeless chase, because Maud kept tripping over what was left of the halter rope. And there were numer- the scattering populace, and sheds and tents and more wagons, and the horses that were gcoring on the homestretch—for in her zigzag course, by trotting-horse instinct, Maud did reach the homestretch—where, 80 experience had taught ker, there was room for speed. So she clattered down past the grandstand. under the wire, and then through a gate and out of the falr grounds, followed by a stubborn bear. ‘The proprietors of Cephas and Maud stood like men petrified till their wroperties had vanished in the dust of the highway. Then Mr. Towle limped over to Mr. Sturnell and hit his ex-partner in the eye. Mr. Stur- nell returned the compliment. The intervening neutrals stopped hostil- ities. “So that's the kind of dirty work you've trained her to, I3 it?* demand- od Sturnell. “Between the two of you you've rigged a derrick to steal my bear, and I've got plenty of witnesses, and T'll sue you for the last dollar you own.” But Towle had already found retort ureless and invective vain. Tossing his arms and wagging his head he rushed in the direction of the judges’ stand. Mr. Sturnell followed, but hav- ing shorter legs, he could not run as fast. * k¥ % HE first arrival yammered and leaped and cracked his fists when he reached the home stretch. The I'll show 'em I haven't;and the bear still on sentry duty near!orowd. pricked by desire for informa- tion on certain points, grew very quiet, and in the silence his shrill tones reached all ears. “I ask you what this is, jedges, a hoss-trot or a wild west show?" He received no official information. Mr. Towle turned his back on the judges and faced the grandstand “Let it all come out, then! It's time for the publio to know! I'm going to show up this fair management. It's a plot to kill straight hoss-trotting in this state. I've been picked out for the victim.” The starter began to clang his bell. “And there goes some more of the plot! They're afraid of free speec! But you ail saw what has been d ‘They sicked a bear onto my hoss!" Sturnell had arrived. His countenance indicated that he had a great deal to say, but he had no bresth left with which to say it peered through the bars of his ancient foe. “I want to you, Horace P. Towle, that of all th investments I ever made In my lifs that bear is turning in to me the best dividends. I'm out one bear, but it's worth it! You're welcome to that bear when you find him setting 'side of what's left of that mare and pick- ing his teeth. Use that bear well. Feed him healthy bear that has been having vi'lent exercise.” Towle turned away without a word; his vocal ammunition weas gone. He trudged over the field, crossed the back-stretch and went to h tall. The two-twelve trot was d nobody seemed to have eyes ything except that. His brief hour as center of interest in "“horse square” was ended. He gathered his belongings and lashed harness, hopples, blanket and other gear on the sulky-seat. Water- pail, feed-bucket and bandage-trough he swung from the sulky frame. A few quarts of oats bulged in a corner of a sack. He picked up the sack. Then he set it down. But he picked it up again and stuffed it into one of the pails. “You can’'t tell—I may find her* he muttered. “If 8o, she’ll be hungry. If I don't find her, I may need oats for my own supper.” He stepped between the sulky shafts and peered about to make sure that he had not left anything. Then he picked up the shafts and started away. The last of tige old-timers was manently retiring from the track! Again_ the megaphone! From where he was he heard the announcement only indistinctly. It was something about a trotting bull moose. A railbird hailed him. “Say, Uncle Hod, you'd better wait over a few min- utes and see that moose.” “I'm going off to somewhere so deep in the woods that a moose won't be anything worth looking twice at, £ trotting bull moose in the world. But it was plain that the moose was not interested in trotting just then. Shn b -h-] n It was the moose call’™ Back were laid the antlers! Up in ose—a. nose that bore a close resemblance to ' the air weat the bulbous n a well-developed Hubbard squash. to| And then the persons there assembled 3 unds was degradation; but to drive a bull moose on a track that should be sacred to horses was such rank apostasy as to bring growls and groans from the regulars who lined the fences. And the worst of it was Mr. Sturnell was plainly having a good time! The band was playing, and he paid no attention to the growls, dut grinned at the applauding grandstand crowd and ducked his head appreciatively. ‘The ungainly moo shuffied and skated along. To call that gait a trot was to call a toadstool a lily of the valley. It was grotesque insult to the sport of kings. And when the crowds applauded the burlesque the old-timers growled more deeply. * X ¥ X ALL at once, from somewhere, a strange sound came wavering on the air. No sound like that had ever before been heard on the grounds of the Milo County F. & G. D. A. That_sound effected what the de- spairing conservative had viewed as an impossibility; the moose stopped! He braced his stiltlike legs. He stuck up his ears. There was an elusive quality about that long, drawn-out sound. It seem- ed to come from nowhere in particu- lar. There was a nasal, vibrant, ap- pealing tone in it! It can be sug- gested only feebly by phonetics. “Unck! Unck! Unck! M-m-m—ah! Rah-h-h!" Mr. Sturnell Jaid the whip viciously aggy flank of the only DOOM RED RIVER vou gentlemen wishes to help he's ome. hat about the storehouse at the of leaving camp and the time they embarked in the canoe?” “We never was in no canoe.” assert- W end of the pier.” suggested Gardner.|ed Carshaw. “Them’s dipping blisters “I've got a rifle and a shotgun. A few of us ought to be able to hold that for quite a while.” L “That's the notion, Mr. Gardner, approved the deputy. “Mr. (;harllo suh, we'll be movin' on. Who goe: along for company?’ do.” said Sylvia Glenn. " controverted the officer, re- “I can’t let you—not but d like to. You're a brave lady, ma’am. = “Where he goes. I go,” returned the girl, steadily, “unless you restrain me do that, re- s to ed but exultant negro boy. “They's comin'! ~ They's comin'! They's a_hund’ed of ‘em trampin’ up the road.” * % x % LEBS than a dozen men appeared, to bear out this estimate. Among them were Tapley and Carshaw, and a baldish, intelligent looking fellow whom I took to be the foreman. Ac- cess to the pler was now cut off. The sheriff's deputy made his disposition W quick. soft orders, and had stepped gorward to close and bar the door when Prof. Rainey addressed him. “I should like to meet and talk with on my han's.’ “We ain’t diped since a week ago retorted the oreman. “Speak on, Mis- ter. Did you see em take the canoe?” “No living eye saw them, in all prob- ability, from the time they left Hang- ging Bridge to their arrival in the i " hen what are you projeckin’ at with your talk against honest folk?’ challenged Carshaw. z “But I can tell you—I think I can tell you something of what they did and said about 2 o'clock.” “Three minutes,” croaked Tapley. “Three minutes {s up an’ more'n.” The_foreman pushed him back. and he huddled close to Carshaw, whis- pering hurriedly. “The two men came down the road until they reached the canoe, as the downbound steamer turned at the buoy,” pursued the narrator. “The electric searchlight at her prow flooded the roadway. The wayfarers could not endure the light; they had that on their souls which made them feel that the light-ray was a great finger pointing: them out. They shrank back into the shadow of the es fringing the sulphur A lie! A lie!” wheezed the huge old man lamentably. “The prints are in the soft mud. too plain to be mistaken. There is the these men on the porch outside. The deputy stared. “They’ll kill you, hor “T don't think so. You see, 1 know some of them. The foreman seems a very decent fellow." 5 “What's your notion, Just aimin’ to delay 'em?”" . 1 venture to think I may per- e them that they are following a trail.” he officer shrugged his shoulders. “It can't do no harm." he admitted. “Try it—if you ain't afraid. “To say that I am not afraid would be hardly accurate,” replied the psy- chologis He turned to look at Sylvia Glenn. a long., quiet. hungry look, without hope and without appeal. And sud- denly. with a shock, I understood. The tragedy of it was that even in that great moment of his courage she had Ro cyes for him, nor for any one or anything in the perilous world but Sherwood Charlton, with whom she stood hand-clasped on the stairway. The little professor opened the door. A hand fell on his arm. “Take this” said Hecker, pressing his revolver into the other’s hand. “It would be useless,” answered the professor. “Nevertheless I thank you. He stepped out into the dusk and closed the door quite carefully after him, The deputy sheriff took up a covered position in a corner window commanding the space before the steps. The little mob advanced silent- ly, a bad sign. ; “Good evening, _gentlemen" we heard the professor say in his mild scholar’s voice. “I should like to have a few words with you.” “Stand out o' the way,” barked a voice. “We want a man named Charl- !"HQ is inside, and will be produced on demand. But first give me three minutes.” “No—no talk!” was the uncom- promising answer. “Mr, Foreman, I appeal to you. You're a good American. You fought in the war, as I did. You believe in fair play. All that I ask {s three min- utes. 1s that much?’ The foreman turned to his followers. “We've got the place surrounded.” he said. “Give this man his chance.” “I thank you. Shake hands on the bargain.” He shook the foreman's hand with solemnity, then stretched his own out to the gross and unwieldy. Tapley. For a second that ancient hesitated, then thrust forth his hand. Apparently the professor must have gripped it violently, for I heard a grunt of in- voluntary protest. Prof. Rainey step- ped briskly to the porch again. “Mr. Foreman, when did Carshaw and Tapely return from Jasonville?" “By the even' train,” said the fore- man. “How did you know they was to the city?” “What's this to do with the man we come to git?’ growled Carshaw. “I'm goin—" “I claim my three minutes,” said the professor. “Go ahead”” said the foreman, hln' interest already enlisted. “That was affer the news had been phoned to the city that Delano’s body was found and that a fellow guest at Gardner's was to be arrested, was It not?” “Yes suh, that was in the early evenin' Jasonviille papeh.” “Mr. Tapely, how did you go to Ja- sonville?” “Walked to the end of the trolley- line,” said the old man sulkily. “You didn't go in Mr. Chariton's canoe?” “No,” snarled Carshaw, stepping for- ward. “Men, 1 say we throw this— chatterin’ fool—" “Then why have you paddle-blisters on your hands, both of you? queried the professor mildly. Involuntarily Tapley hands behind him. thrust his deep mark of a very heavy mi and the impress of a twisted foot. “Tweakin’ me on my haltness!" said the cripple ip a venomous voice. “T'll settle that later.. Well. allowin' we was there, anybody’s got a right to take a drink from the spring, I reckon.” “Certainly. Small wonder that you drank. Your throats were perkaps parched. particularly Mr. Tapley. You talked in whispers about what happened at Hanging bridge. One of you, perhaps, spoke of the difficulty of finding any- thing in the hyacinth, and the other. 1 think, urged the large sum of money on the “You think?" interrupted the fore- man. “If you heard all this talk. n't you know?" es,” murmured a voice from the group, “what's about all this chat and prate? We want the murdere: “So do I, gentlemen. Nobody able to report the conversation accurately heard it. But one point which 1 am coming to presently will be definite enough. Mr. Carshaw. perhaps, ar- gued that it was foolish to have left the place empty-handed, and that if he had not surrendered to Mr. Tap- ley's fears they could have had the y—' and and Mr. think did say that the river showed red in the pistol flash (here the old man seemed to be ctoking) and that nothing would induce him to venture into such troubled waters. All this is Tapley may have, more or less hypothetical. Now we come to fact. Mr. Tapley is old and full of memories. An ancient super- stition was harrying him internally. He gave expression to it." Stretching out his arms until point- ed at the shaking and preposterous girth of Tapley, the professor recited: Doom river clear, Naught to fear. Doom river red Spews “Oh, my Gawd!" shrieked the old man, wrapping his arms over his eyes. “Oh, my Gaw: He done it Saul done it. He shot him, on Hang brid, From behin’ he shot him ‘whil The oily old voice failed away into mutterings and stranglings. “Saul Carshaw,” said the little pro- a dim gleam in his hand. Then he turned his head over his shoulder and downward as if selecting a suitable spot, slowly folded his legs under him, sat down and rolled on his face. Not until then, as it seemed to me, did 1 identify the sound and source of the shot which the deputy sheriff had fired from his window. He walk- ed into the stricken group. “This is my man,” said he. settling his grasp on the quivering mountain of flesh. “You-all boys might's well go_home now, I reckon. “I reckon you're right,” answered the foreman, and led his followers away. ~THE little professor walked into the main room and sat down, staring into the fire. All of us followed and clustered about except the lovers, Wk sat close and still on the dim stair- way. “It was wonderful, Prof. Rainey,” said Hecker, quite meekly for so cock - sure a person. “How did you get your first clue? “From certain elemental factore of psychology.” returned the other wearily. “Such a condition of semi- trance as Mr. Charlton was in. when it finds vocal expression, usuaily up- sets subconscious memory. Given the * k& X “Paddle to Jasonville?” put in_the foreman, puszled and frowning. “Why would they do that?’ “To avold meeting any chance wan- derer who might be on the road from 2 o'clock in the morning on. “There you all are wrong,” declared the foremap. “They lett camp shortly after suppet. “So much 1 assumed. Mr. Delano was killed at one-fifteen. Shortly after two of these men took Mr. Charlton's canoe from the pier. “It's a lie,”” snarled Carshaw. “Where were they between the time ey You were nerve-wrecked—: | i jen that was unequaled in any other | ith delight fact of the murder and his recital, inand in a short connection with it, of a question’ so|POrting in a $15000 concrete tank, realised that the -mnmn:u ing shingles oft &.t “n:.:l a roof home, anyway,” £oing to be much left on the grounds for excitement after the moose race is all over.” ‘When he was on the highway, he con- tinued to stop and call. It was ther case of the cajolery of the Pied Piper— ‘with a bull moose for the subject. After a time he saw the moose coming. He threw away his cardboard and plodded on, taking care to give the a mal plenty of room. With antlers laid back, nose in the air, splay hoofs kick- ing up dust, the moose went past at railroad speed. “Too to see all that power going hed Mr. Towle, tugging at ( Continued. ) sary as corroboration. Fearing to g0 into the strange-hued river—a per- fectly natural phenomenon had they but understood local aquatic vegeta tion—and succumbing to a supersti tious panic. the murderers empty-handed to Jasonville; but on learning from the newspaper that suspicion directed elsewhere they came back and organized the lynch- ing-party, assuming, probably with good judgment, that if a victim paid the Denalty no _further inquiries would be made. It was for them an unfortunate coincidence that light of the steamer, driving them to cover, should have disturbed the drugged man ju ufficiently to in- duce a state of clair-audient som- nambulism. For that matter, he might himself have committed quite innocently a murder while in that condition—just as he unwittingly found refuge in Miss Glenn's tage. s French glanced toward the Iway where the lovers sat and cot- h with spinsterish archness said: *“Mr. Chariton has not only his life to thank you for, professor, but some- 'w that gleam of pain on Advoéates On 5| T fled . the | the ‘while he climbed a hill. “Buft T'll be cussed if I'd get down low enough to ride behind a bull moose, even iIf I could catch hi I'd be putting myself on Lell Sturnell's plane.” Some miles farther on he saw a man nailing a fresh hide onto the side :lu a mliy mk.dmh of a mane swn sulky evoked prompt query from !h,.'hu.'r hl&ert. “Lost a hoss”™ es! ief markings a mustache and——= “Nough said, Mister. There can't ba two like that critter in the whole world. t|She raced into the yard with a bear behind her. I put her in the barn and ahot the bear. Bear yours, too?" “It was given to me, but you'rs wele come to it, seeing that you have taken care of the hoss.” *x x % 'HE man gazed calculatingly from to skin to Mr. Towle. Just them there was something rather pathetic about the old chap who had come plodding in the dust, pulling his sulky. *1 like to be square in all matters, mister,” stated the man. “Take pelt, grease and meat, and I shall make a food thing out of the bear. Suppose hand you here and now the ten dol- lars that I'll get for bounty money!” “T'll take it and be much obleeged,” confessed Mr. Towle. “Owing to a plot that has been put up on me and my string by high interests, 1 find myself a leetle speck short just now. “And T'll throw in a few pounds of the steak. Do you like bear meat *T'll relish a hunk of that one™ stated Mr. Towle, ferociously. “And you may as well stay per and spend the night” p this new friend. “Your hoss seems to be kind of *=uTxered. An hour later Mr. Sturnell trudged ing & halter and sure. Mr. Towls dooryard of his was sitting in the host, and was comfortably smoking a cigar. Mr. Sturnell glanced sidewise :gd!u: foe and at the tell-tale bear ide. as you're heading . *“You ecan’t mi Seeing that you've go into the wiid animile line so stron; you may be interested in the nat'ra Tl-tory définition of what bull moo: Mr. Sturnell kept right on. “A bull moose Is a critter with & swelled nose and is driven by another critter with a swelled head. Drives better when deef and dumb. I bid you a_genteel good-day. and hope you'll find the walking good and that your corns ain’t hurting you.™ (Oopyright, 1921. | the psvehologist's mild face. “I a re that he is Worthy of her” id quietly. +And I think that his malady will now pass. What he has passed through, with courage, to=- night is the kind of test that will | serve to rehabilitate his nerves and his confidence.” Mr. Betterfield came fussily for- “It is all quite extraordinary.™ he cackled, “and you are to _be con- gratulated, Prof. Rainey. But you will not. I am sure, fall to acknowl- edge the great assistance given b{ the unseen forces of the spirit world.’ “Yes, indeed!" cackled his wife. 'he most wonderful feature is the disclosure of ouija.” “I confess,” began the professo courteously, “that I am rather st & | loss—" | " “Ouija knew from the first inter- {rupted” Mr. = Betterfield = Jealously. “First, ‘Trouble’ was its warning. Then = ‘Murder, repeatedly. And finally—" “Finally™ exulted Mrs. Betterfleld |in triumph, “'S. C.! §. C.! Saul Car- |shaw, the murderer’ Can any one remain a skeptic after such evi- dence?” “This time they've forgotten the middle initial,” the professor whisper- ed to me. (Copyright, 1921. Printed by arrangement with Metropolitan Service and The Washington Star.) e Department To Care for War Veterans HEN President Harding se- lected Mrs. Edith Oliver Rea of Sewickly. Pa., to serve as a member of the com- mission of eleven to investigate the entire veteran relief situation he again demonstrated his ability to choose the right person for the right | place. Probably no woman in the United States has been more of a friend to the wounded American soldler in the late war than the heiress to the Oliver and Rea millions, who for the past four years has devoted herself un- selfishly and untiringly to his wel- fare. Scattered throughout the country are thousands of overseas men who give eloquent testimony to the com- fort and help that she gave them when they were most i need of as- sistance. No soldier, sailor or marine, who served his country during the great conflict, and who came under ner observation as a mulitary hospital patient ever left her jurisdiction without feeling her motherly interest in his well being. At Walter® Reed Hospital, Wi ington, D. C., where Mrs. Rea served as the only woman field director in the United States in the department of military relief, American Red Cross, she was idolized by the sick and maimed victims. Her deeds of mercy were countless. One of her first acts was to superintend the erection of the Red Cross conva- lescent house at the great govern- ment institution. She enlisted the aid of her wealthy triends in fur- nishing the interior, and when it/ was openea, Muy i1, Idto. 00 ubed ) building of its kind existed. ) * X ok % Her regime thereafter was marked | with constant success. Gathering together the leading members of so- ciety and welfare work in Washing- ton, she, established u corps of wom- | military hospital in America. She guve lttle, if any, time to her social obligations, spending day and night al lue wip reservation looking atter cav s us LEC CDATES. in time she came lo be known among the Puiltuis 43 wie "blg BUss,” Ior they suen svdnu tudl tuey could accom- i u.uie lur Lheir personal wants Cupit @ Girect appeai Lo Der lasd Ulugst Wlulary cnannels. everal incigents proved this to be true. when a large detachment of wounded wen arrived at the hospital 1row Sewport News and she learned tnat ihey had not been paid in months, she at once advanced a loan to every member of the detachment o Uue uim over unul pay gay. When Christmas came and many of the men weie WiwoUt funas to return home she again came to their rescue and lounea them money. 1t can be said, Lo the credit of the men, that in most every caSe She was repaid, death or 1lness alone preventing restitu- ton. Uverhearing some disabled Yanks discussing the lack of a “swiunmin’ bole,” in the summer of 1¥1y, Mrs. Kea at once took up .the matter of a swimming pool with Surgeon General Merritte W. Ireland of the Army, and Col. James D. Glen- nan, commanding officer at the hos- pital. Upon learning that there were no funds available for the purpose, Mrs. Rea announced that if the War Department would permit she would build the boys & “swimmin’ hole.” The permission was readily granted time the boys were dis- old as to have almost passed from |Which stands today a monument to the memory of the locality, and the|her memory. He must have hal|the war Mrs. Rea found the task so rest was simple. At the conclusion of that from some local inhabitant old|great that she decided to remain on erough to have known the slave- hunts. There are few left. those few is a man who knew be- forehand of poor D-lano’s wild- turkey plans, and also knew that he was carrying a temptingly large sum “The finding of the footprints of Tapley and his junior, but superior, partner Carshaw was hardly neces- duty, and it was not until September One_of {18, 1919, that she resigned. The boys took up a subscription of dimes and presented her with.a handsome silver and gold cup, which stands today in the front hall of her palatial home at Sewickly. since that time that Mrz. Rea “There has never been a week pass not been in communication with the hospital through her faithful assist- ant and confidant, Miss Marjorie Lower of Corning, N. Y., whd is now | assistant to the Red Cross fleld direc~ tor there. Whenever she came to | Washington her first act was to call on “her boys,” and it was she who was instrumental in having President and Mrs. Harding visit them recently. Arriving in her private car from Pittsburgh, she called up Senator Knox and through him obtained an inter- view with the President. The result was one of the most gala days in the history of Walter Reed. * * ¥ ¥ Mrs. Rea is the daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. Henry W. Oliver of Pittsburgh. Her mother died in Au- gust. 1919, and four months later her husband, Henry R. Rea, a member of the War Industries Board, passed away. Thus she came into two for- tunes. It is authentically reported that Charles M. Schwab paid her father $26.000,000 for the Mesaba range of mines. She has a daughter, Anne, who served also as a full-tim volunteer with the Red Cross at Wal- ter Reed, and a son, Henry Oliver Rea, who was a junior licutgnant in the Navy during the war, serving four- teen months overseas on the Wyoming. There is no doubt that she will bring a wealth of experience gained by ac~ tual personal contact with the dis- abled-soldier problem to the commit- tee of eleven. “Personally I am in favor of one department instead of the three that are now operating in behalf of the veteran. Until I hear all the testi- mony that is beink given by the va- rious government agencies before the committee I do not care to express my final opinion, but it seems to me tkLat there should be one place for our wounded or sick men of the war to go instead of them being put to the trouble and inconvenience that now exists,” said Mrs. Rea in an inter- view. Mrs. Rea's appointment was hailed by the wounded veterans at Walter Reed Hospital, and they praciically spoke for their “buddies in other parts of the country, for she has lived among the wounded boys so long there is probably no better au- thority ccncerning their ‘wants and welfare. In the last issue of the Come Back. the weekly newspaper published by the patients at the hos- pital, she was called “one of the groatest benefactors humanity in gen- eral, and the wounded veterans in particular, have ever known.” The Successful Man. CHARLEE M. SCHWAB said at banquet in Loretto: “The fallures do all the talking nowadays. Listen to £hem, and you'll come to the conclusion that success is 2 crime—that every millionaire is a liar and a thief. “As & matter of fact 99 out of 100 successes are due to hard work and hard work alone. The successful man works while the failure talks bolshe- vism. Mr. Schwab chuckled. “To put it in another way.” he said, “the successful man makes hay while the sun shines—makes it out of the grass that grows under the bolshe= vik’s feet” Questions. A DIPLOMAT at a qiues™ in Wash @ ington was talking about Ger- many and war reparations. : “Germany tells the world very frankly that she is ruined, bankrupt, threatened with bolshevism and all that sort of thing” he said. “We might believe her if—if—" The ambassador smiled. “When we try to ascertain Ger- many*s finandial condition,” he added, our questions very s M