Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, March 16, 1901, Page 3

ag Bz BR #R IN THE WEB OF *x.. LILLIAN GILLIN. CHAPTER I. It was evening. The moon had risen and was bathing in its silvery light the stone walNs of Grey Oaks, the courtry residence of Donald Markham, and the show place of the neighborhood. Within the elegantly-appointed dining room, areund a table artistically gar- nished with fruit and flowers, lingered three persons. One was Grey Oaks’ owner and mas- ter—a tail, superb-looking man of six- ty-five winters, whose frosts had whit- ened his hair and beard, but failed to bow his powerful frame. Twenty years before, world, adready looking Donald Markbam as a confirmed old bachelor, had been startled by being summoned to welcome, on his return from an ex- tended foreign tour, a young and beau- tiful woman of Italian birth, whom he presented to them as nis wite. Who she was, where he had met her, and how she had conquered this hither- to unconquerable, were matters for cu- rious speculation, of which there was no lack. Some said that she was the daughter of a Roman noble, and that she had brought her husband a dower of almost incredible magnitude; others declared that she was penniless, her only dower the upon society her exquisite beauty and winning grace. Whoever, whatever, Donald Mark- ham’s wife may have been before he thus had honored her, as Mrs. Donald Markham, she was too great a local power not to reign as social sovereign had she so ordained. Society’s pet grievance was that she did not so or- dain. She adored her husband, and he ap- peared to lavish all the pent-up flood of years upon her. For a year their happiness was un- marred, and then, one perfect May morning, the heaviest sorrow of Donald Markham’s life fell upon him. They put into his arms an infant daughter, and whispered to him that his wife was dead. His grief was something terrible in its silent, hopeless intensi ron bands seemed at that moment to lock them- selves about his heart—would have re- mained so locked forever but fdr the tiny fingers of his little girl, who, as the years went by, one by one loosed tham. On her he concentrated all a father’s tenderness. No other woman's smile ever allured him. Reticent and grave. his chitd alone reveled in the Inner warmth and sunshine of his nature, un- til, advancing from babyhood to child- hood—from childhood to girlhood—she, now standing on the threshold of wo- manhood, appeared to him the imper- sonation and idealization of the past. If her dead mother had left her no other inheritance than her exquisite loveliness, that, at least, was full, com- plete and perfect. The light, streaming full upon her face, revealed no flaw. The figure was rounded into’a beauty which defies all criticism. Hers was a face. no pen could describe. Her eyes were gray The straight regularity of the little nose, the rebellious, willful rings of ruddy goid upon her white brow—this until she smiled; and then you would have sworn it was the smile to which she owed her rarest charm. Yet now, sitting opposite to her father and toying with, rather than eating, the bunch of hot-house grapes upon her plate, the lashes were sweeping her cheeks, the drooping head half-shad- owed its bloom. The smile was absent, indeed, a tiny frown’ puckered her brow; but the beauty still was there, and on it gloated the eyes of the third member of the party. Randoiph Chester was the nearest relative Donald Markham could boast, but it was difficult to believe even a re- mote tie of blood connected two men whose expression rendered them so dis- similar. The face of the younger man was at once singularly handsome and singu- larly repeHant. One recognized in h the fascination possessed by the ser- pent. His eyes were dark and glittering; his hair and mustache black; his skin fair as @ woman's. There was subtle grace in every movement. His voice was low and musical. At the time of his cousin’s marriage, twenty years before, he had been a boy of fourteen, and already looked upon himself as Donald Markham's pre- sumptive heir. For years he had nourished a deadly hatred against this innocent destroyer of his fond vision; but, as the child de- veloped into the most perfect woman- hood, a new idea had burst upon him, by which his early disappointment might yet be wiped out, and his early ambition attained. Over Donald Markham he already ex- ercised a strong and peculiar influence that infiuence he fostered by every care, until he knew that to no man would his cousin more willingly intrust jis most precious treasure than him- self. But an wnexpected obstacle lay in his path. It was one thing to woo Beatrice Markham—another to win her; and the girl usually so sweet, so gracious to all, took no pains to disguise toward him her aversion and—she was in love with another. Bertram Talbot, holding a salaried position in his cousin's employ, aspired to the hand of his cousin’s heiress. It was he who had caused Donald Mark- ham to look at this thing in its proper light—to feel his old liking for the young man who had grown up from a boy in his service, slowly directed into the channels of suspicion and dislike, as he was led te regard him as a fortune- hunter, and, finally to forbid him the house, an@ in the first harsh words he had ever addressed his life’s one idol, demanded her compliance with his stern decision. ‘All this had happened two months be- fore this fair Juhe night, when the story opens. Randolph Chester was two months older, and no nearer his goal— but, in justice, it must be added, no whit more discouraged as to his ulti- mate success. “Grey never looked lovelier than this summer,” he said, after a short pause. “Do you purpose filling the old house with your gay friends, zeatrice?” he asked, turning to his fair young hostess and cousin thrice re- moved. “If T had my way, papa and I wouila reign here in unbroken solitude,” she replied. “That would searcely be allowed last season's acknowledged beiie,’”’ he retor' ed, courteously. “Besides, Grey Oaks’ own reputation for hospitality could not be so misnamed.” Without replying, the girl arose im- patiently from her seat. Stopping an instant beside her father’s chair, she bent and laid her lips caressingly on his white hair. “You will find me on the piazza, pa- pa,” she whispered, and passed out through one of the French windows, leaving the two men alone. “I took your advice to-day, dolph,” said the older man. missed Talbot from my service. It hurt me to do it, too, for he has served me faithfully, so far as my business inter- ests were concerned; but, after all, it was light punishment for his presump- tion. I offered him an amount over and above his due, which would have rep- resented his next year’s salary, but he refused it, and bore himself with a dig- nity which I could not but admire.” “He is a good actor, Cousin Donald; but I thought you had learned to see through his devices.” The old man sighed. He had been fond of the boy of whom he spoke, and that morning’s interview had touched a tender chord and wakened sleeping memories. Meanwhile, allured by the moonlight on the lawn, Beatrice was slowly saun- tering under the shadow of the oaks, when some one stepped from behind the sheltering trunk of one of them, and spoke her name. A slight scream rose to her lips, but quickly she repressed it, as she reeog- nized in the intruder the man who in that instant filled her thoughts. “Bertram!” she exclaimed;. what im- prudence! Why have you come here?” “Why, my darling? The question would sound less strangely uttered by any other than yourself. What could have brought me, save the hope of see- ing you?” As he spoke, he threw his arm about hap delicate waist, and drew her to his heart. One moment she leaned there, and then gently released herself. “This must not be, Bertram,” she said, firmly. ‘There is no wrong, no deception in our love for each other. We must not let it creep in. Remem- ber papa’s love and devotion to me. But tor Randolph Chester's influence he would long since have acceded to my prayer, for your happiness and mine. As it is, we must be patient. It will take a long time to convince him that ail my heart is yours; but, once convinced, our sky will be all blue again.” “Ah, Beatrice, you speak hopefully,” answered the young man, sadly, his voice trembling with feeling. “It is possible you do not know that I was to-day dismissed from your father’s service—dismissed, Beatrice, as though I had entered it but yesterday.” “Ah, this is shamefu cried the girl, passionate indignation ringing in her tone. “What can papa been dreaming of?" “But do not blame him, Beatriee. I noticed that he was strangely silent to- night. I am sure he already regrets an of such bitter injustice.” wet me go-to him! Come with me now. We will confront him, and I will ask him if thus he makes my happi- ness!” “No—no; it would only anger him. Besides, I cannot be a suppliant, even for your sake. No, Beatrice, I have determined on my course of action; it is is I sought you here to-night. , my pride, like yours, would have rebelled against a secret meeting. But I had to look once more into your eyes, my love. I came not to ask your welcome. Beatrice, but your farewell.” “Farewell!”” echoed the girl, in a low whisper. “You are going to leave me, Bertram?” “Not for long, I trust. But we are both young, Beatrice, and I must wipe from myself the stain of fortune-hunt- ing. Oh, how the name burnt as it fell from your father’s lips! A year ago, Beatrice, I fancied he smiled upon oui attachment. Why did he throw us to- gether if but to visit us with his after- wrath?” “Have you forgotten the serpent in our Eden? We had not then admitted him. Cousin Randolph was abroad. He it is, not papa, that has done all this.” “But his motive, can that be?” A hot flush kindled the beautiful cheek. “I hate to whisper it, Bertram. But he—he pretends to love me. Don’t, dear!”—for the young man had made an inyoluntary gesture of anger and de- fiance. ‘In his heart I believe he hates me. But do you not see. Bertram? It is he to whom the term fortune-hunter belongs. Wait, Bertram; give me time, and I will win papa yet.” She leaned her head upon her lover’s arm. He stooped and pressed his lips to her hair. ‘ Absorbed in each other, neither saw the dark shadow creeping stealthily nearer to them, until he had gained the tree beneath whose spreading branches they stood. Ran- Beatrice? What “I dis- | -murder. Sheltered by its branches, their un- suspected listener could hear every word falling from their lips. He took good care that not one should escape him. CHAPTER HI, For a little time ‘the silence was un- broken, Then Beatrice raised her head. “What do you mean to do, Bertram?” she asked, “and how can I help you?” “By bidding me Godspeed, my dar- ling, and by promising me to bravely wait my return. I am going out to the mines in Colorado. I am going to stake my little on the chances of striking for- tune at the turning tide. I may suc- ceed, I may fail, but I have faith to be- lieve that I will succeed. At any rate, I cannot stay here. It would be years before I could prove to your father that influence induced my I have already no mercenary hope of winning you. made my arrangements. If I had a larger amount of money, I could at once secure a valuable interest, but I must wait for that.” . “You need more money, Bertram? Oh, let me go to papa and ask him for it! He will not deny me.” “Impossible, my child! Besides, it would only bring the end a little nearer, and by my own exertions I shall attain the goal. Once I would have gone frankly to your father, as to the best friend any man might have. But that is past. But for leaving you, Beatrice, I should not regret the new life and the new hopes; but, oh, my darling, to leave you, knowing that another loves you!—one, too, who exerts so strange, so incomprehensible an influence over your father. I am tempted to throw all aside, and stay near you, to watch ana protect you.” Fy Behind the tree a dark face grew darker, and beneath a silken mustache met gieaming white teeth with grinding force. “I, too, feel, Bertram, that I cannot let you go,” whispered the girl. ‘“‘Why should so cruel a thing as this separa- tion be entailed upon us? Listen to me, Bertie! I will see papa to-night. I will tell him frankly that we have met, and then I will throw my arms about his neck, and tell him that he is break- ing my heart. Do you know what he will do, Bertie? He will end by giving me my way, and making us both hap- py. I will tell him that I hate this man, whose tie of relationship to me I fairly loath. I will unmask him—I will show papa how cruel and treacherous he is. Why, Bertram, to bend circum- stances to his will, I believe he would He would pause at no obsta- cle that lay in his path. Don’t be too proud, Bertie. You shall make this journey, if you still wish; but first papa shall give his consent to our mar- riage, on your return. I am willing to wait for that long years, if must be— until your fortune is made; but I must have the protection of our acknow- ledged love during your absence. I will meet you here to-morrow night, Bertie. You will not fail me?” “No, darling; my love is stronger than my pride. I will be here.” A few moments more she lingered in his embrace, while the figure near them stole from its lurking place, and glided back to the house. “Well, did you find her, Randolph?” called a voice as he came within view of the piazza. The man did not answer, as he slowly drew near the speaker, while in his brain quick thoughts revolved as to how his reply should be couched. When the distance between them haa been traversed his mind was made up. “Yes, Cousin Donald, I found her,” he said, slowly. “And you have quarreled again, Ran- dolph? Or why did she not return with you?” “I hastened back myself because I} did not wish to pry upon a lovers’ meet- ing” (speaking more firmly now, as if with sudden frankress.) “You think— I have sometimes suspected—that I have tempted you into injustice toward Bertram Talbot; yet, if you will stroll across your own lawn, you will find him tempting your daughter to another surreptitious meeting for another night, and pleading with her to use her in- fluence with you, meanwhile, to ac- knowledge him her accepted lover. He needs money, he says, for some mining scheme, dnd, as your acknowledged son-in-law, can obtain all he covets. To Beatrice’s generous heart this all seems natural. You and I can understand it. I hate to tell you this, but I should not be doing my duty did I leave it un- said.” White with fierce rage, Donald Mark- ham sprang from his seat. “You tell me this man steais into my grounds like a thief, and, in secrer meetings with my child endeavors thus to win her favor? Where are they?” “Be calm, Cousin Donald! Beatrice is high-spirited. She must not suspect mevof giving you this information, Ah! here she comes now! Let her believe you saw them yourself; only you will no longer thirk yourself unjust toward Bertram Talbot?” “Unjust? No!” he cried, with trem- bling voice. ‘But Beatrice—Beatrice, whom TI loved and trusted. She, too, has lent herself to this deceit—” “She is young, and her love blinds her,” an$wered the other, gently. In her white robes, with fragrant roses at her waist, Beatrice crossed the lawn in the full moonlight, adyancing toward them. For the first time her presence brought no softening lines in Donald Markham’s face. He stood awaiting her. Before she could speak he drew her hand within his arm and led her into the library. “What was Bertram Talbot doing in my grounds to-night?” he asked. “How dare you meet him secretly?” Frankly, fearlessly, the girl met the sternness of his gaze; but at the latter question, the spirit he had bequeathed to her flashed into her face. “Papa, you forget yourself!” she re- plied. “Whoever it was need not have troubled themselves. I intended to have told you that I had seen Ber- tram, and to ask you to give your con- sent to our engagement—” “Never!” he exclaimed, his passion blazing beyond bounds. “That man is a scoundrel and destitute of honor, or he would never have approached you thus, in the very teeth, too, of his dis- missal from my employ. Listen, Be- atrice. In all your life no wish has been denied you. You owe me the more obedience now. Neyer shall you see or speak to this man again, unless he gains your presence over my dead body. Nothing shall ever swerve me from’ this, my final decision; and it again Bertram Talbot forces his way into the grounds, I will shoot him down like the thief he is!” “Papa!” cried the unhappy girl. “Will you not listen to me? I will obey you, if you wish to break my hear. But Bertram is going away, and I must see him once more. I must tell him What you have said. He knows that all my heart is his, as I know that all his heart is mine. He is coming here to-morrow night, papa, because 1 asked him to come. He only came to- night to bid me good-bye, because he is going away to work and make a for- tune, to prove to you that he cares nothing for my money. Oh, papa, why are we rich, if it is to bring us only wretchedness?” “You say this man dares to again Propose a second meeting between you for to-morrow night? Beatrice, you have overstepped my patience beyond its limits. Go to your room. You will remain there until I and Bertram Tal- bot have met.” “Oh, papa!” I may not see him once —may not soften to him, ever so little, the bitterness of your most cruel de- cision? Papa, how can I obey you ip this?” “At least, Beatrice, I can force obedi- ence. See to it that you do not drive me to take so desperate a step. Now, go to your room, and when we meet again, understand that this man’s name is never to be mentioned between us!” “Papa, 1 will obey you. I am help- less. I cannot rebel. But one day you will regret that you have entailed upon me this bitter anguish. I do not owe it to you, papa. It is Randolph Chester's doing. Do you think I do not recognize his handiwork? Oh, papa, why do you let this wicked, designing man glide like a ‘snake between us? Would to God my eyes had never looked upon his face!” “Hush! Not another word!” ex- claimed Mr. Markham,’ more sternly than he had ever before spoken in the presence of his idolized child. Beatrice gave him one glance of mute reproach, and then sadly, but withour defiance, left the rocm. Searcely had the door closed behind her than her father was tempted to hasten after her and beg her forgive- ness, as though he had been the cul- prit; for, after all, what was there in the world compared to Beatrice’s hap- piness? She had judged him rightly, but Chester who had watched the ending of the interview, now entered the li- brary. “I almost regret telling you, Cousin Donald,” he said, reproachfully. “I did not wish Beatrice to be made wretched, but indignation at this fel- low’s presumption mastered me. The base advantage he took, too of a girl’s weakness and your hitherto generous kindness.” His words did not fail of their mark. They, for the moment; banished Be- atrice from her father’s thoughts and fanned the flame of his wrath against the youth who once had been dear tu him, and whom now he termed inter+ loper and fortune-hunter. “I will win you, yet, my lady,” so soliloquised Randolph, when at last he had bade his cousin good-night, and sought the retirement of his own apart- ments. “I will win and wear you, though whether I must love or hate you I cannot tell.” Slowly the long hours of the succeed- ing day wore away. Beatrice sat, si- lent and jimpassive, in the exquisite room which had been to her the scene of so many happy hours, within whose walls her heart had first whispered to her its awakening to the dawn of love. To-day all save faith in her lover has fled. The night fell and the moon rose. the little clock chimed the hour when she and Bertram were to have mew Was her father already at the rendez- vous. She rose and crossed to the win- dow facing the lawn. Two figures were at that instant crossing it, and approaching the house. She recognized them both. They were her father and her lover. Randolph Chester was nowhere to be seen, A half-hour followed. All was silent. What was going on in the library be- low her? Another half-hour had passed, but still Bertram Talbot had not left the house. A sudden impulse seized her to. go down stairs, to see Bertram once again, and in her father’s presence, promise to be true to him, though their separa- tion was eternal. She was no coward, and beside Bertram she might, indeed, be brave. Swiftly she threw open the door and hastened down the steps, but on the threshold of the room she paused. She could hear within angry and excited voices. “It's a lie, Mr. Markham!” she heard Bertram say. “I never made such a proposition to your daughter! Have I ever lied to you, that you should doubt me? Will you not rather doubt one who brings to you a tale so infamous? At least, you will let me see Beatrice again “Never! You skall never look upon her face! Whatever money you need I will give you. I offered you money once before, but only across my dead body shall you reach my child!” “Money and insult—you are generous with both, Mr. Markham. Perhaps one day you will regret that you were so. But as for Beatrice—" “Beatrice is here to speak for her- self,” answered a voice, as the door was flung open, and a vision, lovely to both men’s eyes, stood confronting them. White with anger, Donald Markham took one hasty step forward, but she checked him with an imperious gesture, to which, for a moment, surprise ren- dered him obedient. “Listen, papa, for I will speak, and you and Bertram both shall hear what I have to say! Bertram shall know and understand that while you live, I, your child, must render you obedience; but he shall also know that my heart, my faith, my loyalty, are his. To him I have pledged my vows. You may force me to break them, but never shall 1 pledge them to another. I will be his wife, or go unmarried to my grave! Papa, for the love you have always shown me, for the earlier, deeper love you gave mamma, will you not yield your consent to that on which my life's happiness depends?” (To Be Continued.) Christ was not a good man if he was not the God-man. NIPPED IN THE BUD STILLWATER PRISON GUARD LOCKED UP IN JAIL. is Alleged to Have Been Implicated in a Plot to Secure the Release of Edward Leland, a Notorious Rob. ber—Clever Scheme Was cocted, but Warden Wolfer Nipped It in the Bud—Name of the Culprit Is Not Divulged—Two Oth- ers Implicated in the Affair. Con- Stillwater, Minn., March 12.—A pris- on guard, whose name Warden Wolfer does not wish to divulge at present, is locked up in the county jail here on the charge of aiding Edward Leland, a notorious convict at the prison,serv- ing a ten-year term for robbery com- mitted in Minneapolis, in attempting to escape. There are two others im- plicated in the affair, one being a wo- man. A clever scheme was @oncocted which Warden Wolfer succeeded in nipping in the bud. According to re- ports, the guard, together with a former guard and Leland’s paramour, had been planning the escape of Le- land for some time. The guard ar- rested is said to have received nearly $500 to secure Leland’s freedom, and it was to.be done early in the morning. When Leland came from his cell to enter upon his duties in the dining room the guard was to give him a key which had been made in St. Paul to fit the cellroom door leading to the yard, and Leland was to escape over the wall by means of a rope ladder, where his paramour would be in wait- ing with a team to convey him safely away from the prison, and Aid Him in Getting Oat . of the country. Leland has been a clerk in the prison twine factory, and notes are said to have been passed by the guard both to and from him. War- den Wolfer says a search was made of his desk, but nothing was found ex- cepting bits of torn paper in the waste basket, which were pasted to- gether and are said to reveal all the Plans, Warden Wolfer first became suspicious one day last week when Leland’s paramour came here and was met after leaving the prison by the guard who, it is said, had spent much time in the woman’s company since early in December. Last Thursday the guard had a bogus telegram de- livered to him at the prison, stating that his sister was dying. He left for St. Paul, where he was kept under close surveillance by officers and was arrested yesterday on a St. Paul and Minneapolis interurban car by Cell- room Keeper Glennon, who had been sent after him by Warden Wolfer. The guard was brought to this city and placed in jail. Warden Wolfer says there are various reasons why names should not be divulged at pres- ent. Some -of the parties implicated are presumably not under arrest. New Order of Things. Miller, S. D., March 12. — At last the first families of this part of the state are beginning to look with sus- picion upon the strangers who are trying to neighbor with them—immi- gratior has started and the newcomers are buying the vacant land that the first settler has used for a small rental-these many years. Many an olé settler wakes up to the fact that the quarter he had leased, and which he had expected to buy some day, has been purchased of the Eastern owner by an FEasterner, and the stranger comes along unexpected. This is caus- ing the original settler to buy instead of renting the adjoining quarters. Drainage Cases Bunched. Fargo, N. D., March 12.—The triai of the drainage cases has been in progress for nearly two weeks, and for the purpose of facilitating mat- ters the attorneys have stipulated that the remaining cases be consoli- dated. The time heretofore has been devoted to one case, and it would take nearly all summer to complete the hearing of each one separately. The final arguments may not be made for some time. There are twenty-sever different plaintiffs and all have a protest to make on the method of as- sessment. Picea enats Uaeees Pe Church Sold at Sherifi’s Sale. Sioux City, Iowa, March 12.—The St Joseph’s’Catholic church property an@ parsonage, costing $30,000, which were built and dedicated last year, were sold at sheriff's sale under a mechan- ie’s lien. They brought the amount 07 the bills against them — $168.16. Berg & Weirich, of the Architectural Wood Works company, were the purchasers, they being plaintiffs in the action to foreclose. Rev. E. W. Fowler expects yto redeem the property within one years, . Registered Mail Pouch Stolen. Kalispell, Mont., March 12.—A pouck containing registered letters from the East was stolen at the depot. The pouch and part of the mail matter were later found. Two outside cov- erings of registered letters were found on the track near the station. Nc clue is obtainable; nor is it known the amount of registered matter stolen or the value of the same. ’ Threatened to Lynch Slayer. Keokuk, Iowa, March 12. — William Edwards was shot at Memphis, Mo., by E. R. Bartlett, an attorney and real estate agent. A mob congregated at the jail and threatened to lynch Bart- lett but were persuaded to desist. Reported Suicide. Winona, Minn., March 12.—Informa- tion has reached this city that O. E. Larson, for four years treasurer of Trempealeau county, committed sui- cide by drowning ‘himself in Pigeon | river. 1 weeks, BOARDER OR PARAMOUR? Commack’s Unexpected Return Home Leads to Su prising Results. Galena, S. D., March 13.—This little mining camp is stirred up over a fam- ily affair. Frank Commack, a re- spected citizen, left for the South sev- eral weeks ago, but changed his mind suddenly before going far and re- turned home. He arrived at his house about midnight and found the door barricaded. He proceeded to break open the door and discovered within a man named Roscoe Cunningham. Commack commenced shooting at Cunningham, but his wife stepped in and stopped matters. Commack then went outside of the house and guarded it until the sheriff arrtved from Dead- wood, when Cunningham was taken to the county jail. Commack then swore out a warrant for the arrest of his wife, who was also taken to jail, un- der $1,000 bond The husband will charge adultery, while the wife will contend that she had commenced tak- ing boarders. NEW TELEPHONE COMPANY. orthficld Parties Organize to Ope- rate an Exchange. Faribault, Minn., March 13.—Articles of incorporation have been filed by ‘Charles Church, H. L, Frye and Phoebe Church, who have formed themselves into a company to be known as the Northfield ‘elephone Exchange company. The articles state that it is the purpose of the com- pany to construct and operate tele- phone lines and exchanges, and that Northfield will be the principal place of business. The capital stock amounts to $15,000, divided into 150 shares of $100 each. The highest amount of in- debtedness or liability to which the company will be liable is limited to $10,000. The board of directors con- sists of the first-named persons, who hold office until the first annual meet- ing or until their successors are elected and qualified. 4 BLOODSHED ON THE RANGE. Frenk Hartzell, Ranchman, Is Muar- dered—Had Killed His Man. Helena, Mont., March 13. — Frank Hartzell, the cattleman living twenty- five miles north of Lewiston, was mur- dered Friday night by some unknown assassin who shot him as he was eat- ing supper. The murderer fired through a door from the outside. It is supposed that the murder is the re- sult of difficulties between Hartzell and sheep men who range in bands in that vicinity. The murdered man leaves a wife and family at Lewiston. That town is seventy-five miles from a railroad, and no further details of the shooting have been received here. Haartzell a few months ago himself killed a man named Drummond in that locality. PLOT TO FREE PRISONERS. Miss Ada Hubbel and Pat Cunning- ham Under Arrest. Stillwater, Minn., March 13.—It is al- leged that the woman’ who took a principal part in the conspiracy to ald Edward Leland in an attempt to es- cape from the prison, was Miss Ada Hubbel of St. Paul, who for some time has occupied rooms at the Arlington hotel. The guard who, it is charged, carried out the plans for Miss Hubbel, was Patrick F. Cunningham, who came here about a year ago from Cal- edonia, Minn., to act as guard at the prison. Both of them are locked up in the Washington county jail in this city and the papers are being prepared charging them with felony in attempt- ing to aid Leland in getting out of prison. FOR ALLEGED MALPRACTICE. La Crosse, Wis., March 13, — The verdict of $1,200 damages in the Hi- dershide malpractice case at White- hall, was not unexpected, it having been tried before, when the jury brought out a verdict of $2,000 for the plaintiff, Mrs. Lena Hichofer. The ease was taken to the supreme court and remanded back for trial. The plaintiff alleged that she broke her arm, and it was set by Dr. Hidershide, who is a leading physician of Ar- cadia, and mayor of the village, but the operation was not performed prop- erly. It grew worse and she had to come to this city and have the arm reset, She sued for $10,000. WALKED OUT OF JAIL. Denison, Iowa, March 13. — John Stoval, under indictment for the dar- ing express robbery committed at Manila last month,- made his escape from the Crawford county jail. He slipped from the inner cell into one of the outside cells which opens to the entrance of the jail. While Turnkey Smith was busy locking the inner cells Stoval walked out of the jail and no trace of him has been found. Speculated in Grain. Sioux Falls, S. D., March 13.—George Wells and Henry Gates have been bound over to the circuit court to an- swer to the charge of stealing a large quantity of wheat and flax from a neighbor and selling it at Dell Rapids. Gates, who i a brother-in-law of Wells, is a mere boy and has been an inmate of the Eldora, Iowa, reform school. Wells has always stood high in the community. He claims he had no knowledge of the stealing, and that Gates, who lived with him, was in the habit of taking one of his teams and driving around the country. Minnesota Has Best Exhibit. Winona, Minn., March 13.—Henry G. Smith, secretary of the state game and fish commission, has just returned from Chicago, where he attended the game and fish exhibition. He says this state was better represented than any other state there. Drainage Cases Drag On. Fargo, N. D., March 13.—Before the conclusion of the drainage cases which have been on trial for nearly three the court and the attorneys will visit the drains for which the as- sessments are said to be illegal. 30 | | | = |