Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, April 30, 1915, Page 6

(Copyright, 1812, by Associated Literary “I'm the man to look into that ore robbery and find the trouble,” an- nounced the little man, supplementing the announcement that his name was Henry Dunseith. “Detective?” asked Robert Ogden, with a grin. From the superiority of As own six-foot-two, he looked down with velled contempt on the other man’s five-feet-six, Dunseith looked anything but a de- tective. He was slightly built, and, instead of the hawk-like glance of the sleuth, dreamy eyes of blue-gray .looked out from under almost color- less laghes. His hair was thin and but slightly tinged with yellow, while the slender, nervous hands suggested the poet rather than the detector of crime. He looked at Ogden, superintendent of the Nardath mines, with shocked surprise. “I'm not a regular detective,” he ex- plained. I go in for this sort of thing for the fun of it, you know. Colonel Northcote told me that you were hav- ing trouble out here, and as | had nothing to do for a couple of weeks I thought 1'd run out and }uvo atry at " “A oouple of weeks!” exclaimed Og- den. “Why, we've been looking for the last two years to find the leak- “That’s all right,” sald Dunseith with his gentle smile. “It's a long road, you know, that doesn’t turn some time. I've come to curve the road be- tween here and the smelter. You'll just explain that I'm a friend of the colonel's. I daresay you've had plenty of his tenderfoot friends out here be- fore. One more will not attract atten- tion.” “It's a cinch they won't take you for a detective at any rate,” assured Ogden, with unflattering emphasis. Dunseith only smiled “That’'s one good thing,” he sald briskly. “Did you arrange about my bunking in somewhere?” “At my place,” explained Ogden ris- ing. “I thought that you might want He Liked to Watch the Games. to communicate with me at times, and if you are right in the house there 1s less danger that we will be overheard.” Dunseith was familiar with the sit- uation at the mines. A )arge quan- tity of high grade ore was found in pockets, and this was too valuable to be handled on the ore cars. It was packed in boxes, and when a suffi- clent quantity was accumulated, these were packed in wooden chests and sent down in a special shipment. The chests were locked and the key holes sealed, but for all of that the end of the run found most of the chests deficient In good ore. The ore was weighed as carefully as gold, and somewhere between the mine and the smelter several hundred dollars’ worth of ore would disappear to be replaced by rock. The other detectives had obtained employment along the line in the hope of discovering the trick, and Og- den wondered what disguise Dun- seith would adopt. To his surprise Dunseith suggested no disguise. When the shipment of ore was made he showed an eastern- er's curiosity in the proceeding, then he strolled off to the saloon just on the limits of the camp where the men gathered when off duty and found re- laxation in cards and drink. Dunseith did not drink and r the first visit no one thought of him to play eards, fer he was a clever parior ma- giclan and his card tricks were really good, But i he neither drank nor played, Dunseith was willing to buy drinks for the others and he liked to watch the games or listen to the stories the men swapped. The men gathered that Be was an author and took a delight in spinning weird yaras for his bene- fit. Dunseith was sitting there as the traln with the express car attached rolled past the bullding on its way to Nardath, the private station of the mines on the main line. “More good ore going into bad bands,” he sald with a laugh as he indicated the yellow car. “North- Valuable Alaskan Dogs. Alaska where horseflesh is scarce) are used in farming operations. A pair of dogs hitched to a small wheel plow will do excellent service potato patch and a team of six will draw 1,000 pounds of pro- to market. Fragrances Diminished by Sunlight. Flowers are more fragrant when the with a laugh. “There’s a standing re- | ward of $5,000 for the discovery of the way it goes.” “l should think some of you fel- 1 lows would have pulled that money | down long agd,” suggested Dunseith. “There must be some one who knows.” “The ones who are in the know are get.ing more than the $5,000,” remind- ed the other man with a laugh. Some talk of the conversation { re-ched the assistant superintendent, Blasser, and he promptly reported it to Ogden and his daughter. He was slad of an opportunity to turn Ruth against the stra: for until Duam- seith bad come Blasser had paid Ruth assiduous court. Now she seemed to ! prefer the man from the east and | Blasser was quick to press his ad-| vantage. | “I'm going down the road this, morning,” he said lightly. “I wish you'd fix it so that I could ride in the engine,” sald Dunseith one morning. Ogden nodded his assent without speaking, and after the meal the two men went across the groufds to the storehouse. Already the engine was attached to the express car, and the messenger was on hand to check up the invoice. Dunseith watched as the boxes were checked off and stowed in the car. Then the seals were put on, and Ogden impressed on the soft | wax the impression from one of the se At the end of the run these seals were removed entire and re- turned to Ogden, who checked them up. Dunseith clambered aboard the engine after borrowing a suit of over- alls, and the engine pulled out to hook on to the train of ore cars that completed the load. ‘The express messenger took his seat on the ore | car nearest the express car, and the train pulled out. It was a twelve-hour run to the smelters and it was late in the eve ning when the camp was thrown into an uproar by the announcement that the leakage had been discovered, but beyond the bare facts mothing was known until the following day when Dunseith turned up on the train and hurried across to the oftice. “Did you get Murphy as I wired?* he asked as he entered the room. Ogden nodded. “I don't think that he did it,” he declared. “Not at all,” assented Dunseith, “but he made it possible for the man who did to get along a bit easter. Did it ever occur to you that you had a | 60-foot car that measured a little short of 66 inside?” “What's that got to do with 1t | grunted Ogden. “The ends were false,” explained Dunseith. “They contained some plain ore, a pair of steelyards and—a man.” “I don't see what good that was Wwhen the boxes were sealed,” was the reply. “Send for one of the boxes,” sug- gested Dunseith, and when it came he knelt on the floor beside it. The shipping boxes were of wood, bound with metal. The metal rims were bolted to the sides and ends and one of these bolts Dunseith rapidly unscrewed with an odd shaped tool that grasped the irregular head like & wrench, “I am something of ai giclan,” he explained. *“ tion of the boxes seemed to me pecu- lar and this was the first clue. I sat over here smoking with Murphy and when he went on his rounds to touch the clocks I had a chance to investi- i As he spoke Dunseith drew away the loosened bolt and showed that it ran through the side of the box to the opposite metal band. Once the rod was removed the bottom could be lifted up without disturbing the seals | In the least. Ogden uttered a cry of astonishment. “Under cover of the noise made by the train,” explained Dunseith, “the man in the car slipped out of his compartment in the end. He weighed out the ore and replaced it with exact- ly the same weight of valueless rock. At the end of the run the boxes were undisturbed and of the same welght as before, but there was an exchange of from two to three hundred pounds of ore that ran almost pure gold. “There were three men in the game at the other end. One ster, the second the and the third the express messenger on another run. After the doctored ore was delivered at the smelter the | car was run up to the yards and emptied of the stoleg ore. This was taken into the freight house by the agent and the express messenger took it up the road and then shipped it to another smelter as ore from a little mine which the freight agent owned. Murphy was taken Into the game to make things easy for man in the car in case there was a delay here.” “And you knew this all the time?” demanded Ogden. “I thought that you had your suspicions of me.” Dunseith smiled. “It was talk,” he explained, “amd talk that made people look the other way was good to throw suspicion. If I really had suspected you I should have made an excuse for moving over to the Palace and living there.” There was an exclamation from the balf-opened door and Dunsieth turned quickly. “A8 it {8, he went on easily, "I am golng to ask your permission to go on living here until After the wed- ding.” He held out his hands and Ruth came slowly forward to be drawn in- to his eager clasp. “I hated you this morning.” she confessed sbyly, “but even when I hated you I loved you, too.” Warmth From the Heart. Hearth warmth is generated by the triendly touch of another’s hand. “Landlady.” The distinction which the posses slon of land used to give is still exem- plified In the titles of “landlord” and “laadiady.” Persons are amused at the colored washwoman, for Instance, who insists on the term “lady.” But let the same woman run a rooming bouse, of whatever description, and :o.'l:mn'h-‘-m'm-'lnl- A WALKING N By LUCILE WARRINGTON. (Copyright, 1914, by W. G. Chapmsan.) . “Hello!” ejaculated Vance suddenly, and with some satisfaction, scanning the “Help Wanted” column of the newspaper he had bought. “What now?” queried Mark. “Listen,” and Vance proceeded to read: “Wanted—A presentable, active young man of some imagination and good facial expression. Liberal com- pensation. Mrs. A, 537 Hawthorn terrace.” “Well, I vum!™ exclaimed Mark “Now what in the world does that mean? What has presentableness, imagination and facial expression to do with 1t?” / “Well, I shall try for the position,” announced Vance. The Hawthorn terrace address proved to be a fine mansion set in a | charming nest of greenery and flow- ers. Vance adopted his best bearing and had handsome features and a well- modeled form to recommend him to the housemaid, who showed him into « little gem of a reception room, say- ing she would take word to “Mrs. Ar~ lington” at once. Vance appropriated an easy chair and took in the warmth and comfort of the room luxuriously. It reminded him of home. He arose to inspect a little bijou of a water color on the wall. He strolled about the apartment, taking in the richness and taste of the hangings. He ran a covetous eye over a well-selected shelf of books. Then a drapery parted and an active, nervous lady of perhaps fifty faced him with keen eyes and a quizzical smile. “You came about the ment,” she spoke rapidly. think you will do.” “Why, madam—" began Vaiice, as- tonished at this speedy decision. “Oh, I have been watching you, and I am sure you will suit. You know how to walk and gesture, and 1 can: .,piritely. - see possibilities of expression in your| ypout it, Mr. Peter by I shall need your services from The co eyes. nine to twelve each day. | pensation will be fifty dollars a week. Vance gave a gasp. “First, I will in. troduce you to my other aid, m.v!h; : adopted daughter. called loudly. Vance felt as though he had stum- bled across some scene of enchant-!jp voch ment. Fifty dollars a week! Three hours’ wori a day! A fellow-worker, one “Rilla!” And then “Rilla” came into the room. She seemed to bring with her the radiance of a rare beaut;, an atmosphere of roses, smiles and i kisses commingled. His senses dizzied as he looked upon this vision off love- liness, “You two are to be my special com+ panions,” explained Mrs. Arlington, while Vance grew awkward and ¢he young lady blushed, as they were in- troduced after Vance had murmured his name. “You see, Mr. Byford, I am an authoress. They call me of the impressionist type. I am well ground- ed as to theories and the plot quan- tity, but deficient as to detalls. I firet thought of employing an actor and an actress, but they would be ranters. Naturalness {s what I want. For in- stance: 1 am now at the fourth chap- ter of a novel where the young broker finds himself ruined, comes to his room to be alone, and epends an un- happy hour deciding what he should ‘do. You need not speak. Just move about and act out what you would do under those circumstances. You can be seated, Rilla. You are to appear later as his sister endeavoring to drive away the desperate thoughts that come into his mind.” “Oh, excellent! excellent!” went on the speaker a few moments later, as Vance began his unique role. *‘He snatched close the draperies like a be ing at last at bay.’ A fine line! ‘He sat pondering deeply at his desk, anon casting a desolate glance at its rich surroundings, his no more’ 1 knew you would do. I am truly fortunate!"” Within a few days Vance was ef rapport with his peculiar position. Then the experience grew more inten esting. Rilla had her part in the®pan- tomime of suggestion, alone and in conjunction with Vance. There were some vivid love ecenes to depiot. They became all too real to Vance Byford. One evening he met his friend Mark, with whom he roomed, just outside the Arlington grounds. They halted near the vinecovered wall, little dreaming that Rilla on the other side was an auditor. Then Vance told his troubles. He was going to give up his position. And wherefore? Rilla. Every time in their play acting when their hands met, Vance confessed to a fervent un- restrained impulse to clasp her in his arms and confess his undying love. It was the next morning when Vance and Rilla sat awaiting promptings as to some scene from Mrs. Arlington. Scmething new in the eyes of Rilla attracted Vance. ' His hand stole towards her own, her eyes met his, “Excellent! Maintain that, please* spoke the authoress, her pen traveling rapidly. “Ob, indeed!" She sat up rigid, staring with cen- soring eyes at the twain. Their atti- tude showed not acting, but real love. “I think that we will end your eerv- ices, Mr. Byford,” she said, lcily, but after he had gone gloomily from the house Rilla sobbed, brokenly: “It was not play acting, mamma—t{ love him and I shall dle it he goes away!” 80, to “save the life” of her cher- fshed darling, Mrs. Arlington relented. Good Word for the Mule. “Some men,” sald Uncle Eben, “put n deir Ifves kickin' at nothin’. dis much to be said foh de mule. If he's interested enough to kick, he's :'flnlfa‘wnwdotmbl.olhkh‘ " Prophet's Liking for Narcissus. Mohammed loved the large-flowered | | Dar's NOT WITHOUT EXGUSE By GRACE KERRIGAN. (Copyright, 1915. by the McClure Newspa- per Syndicate.) “Buster said he had two sisters and baby brother,” mused Helen Smith, as she turned into the little white- painted gate of the Peterby home. ‘There was a garden crowded with flow- ers growing rankly, and the draperies at the windows hung awry as if pulled by childish hands. “Careless!” - commented Smith, spinsterwise. Her knock at the door brought Bus- ter Peterby, who turned first pale and then red at sight of her. “Good morning, Buster,” said Helen pleasantly. “Is your mother in?” “Come in, please,” quavered Buster. opening the door into a disordered kitchen. Helen stepped inside and paused. In the middle of the room was a washtub. Over the tub, scrubbing valiantly at bits of children's gar- ments, was a big, blonde man, whose blue eyes met hers without embarrass- ment at being found in this feminine employment. A baby ehuckled on a rug; two little girls were eating at the table and Buster had been labori: ously washing dishes. It was a busy scene. “Place a chair for the lady, Buster,” sald Mr. Peterby, as he deftly wrung out a pink frock. “It's my teacher,” whispered Buster in an agony of embarrassment. “I been late every morning and she wants to see—mother!"” “Buster’s mother went away when the baby came,” said Mr. Peterby gravely, as he resumed his duties without apology. “Il am afraid I am a poor substitute, hut we manage to 3¢t along somehow. Dish washing and bed making come wwvkward to a little boy of cight.” “lI should think so!”™ “You sne Helen cried Helen He nodded. “Thut's the trouble in this world—folks don't take the trou- ble to understand each other.”. “I know it; this has taught me a sson. Oh, Mr. Peterhy, I don't think Rilla!” and ehe ! you should pour boiling watcr on those flannels! ™ protested Helen. Then Horace Poterby took a lesson clothes that he never for- got. admiration before this litule lady who did not hesitatc to risk the daintiness of her attirc in his wifeless kitchen. When she had fini-hed the lesson Helen Smith and Horace Peterby were fairly well acquainted. She could not help but like the big, blond, blunder- ing young man who was trying to be both mother and father to his chil- dren. While Buster was in school it his cus to trundle the baby and the twin girls down to the little shop, where they remained until Bus- ter came from school. “Qf course the business suffers,” sighed Mr. Peterby, as he shook hands with Miss Smith. Helen Smith hurried into the schoolroom, quite forgetting that Bus- ter had gone ahead long ago. It was half past hine and she found a room .full of whispering, ‘idle pupils. She, the dictator, was late herselt— and without excuse. Before the round- eyed wonderment of her scholars Miss Smith called the room to order and be- gan the day'’s lessons. After that Helen often stopped in the little shop to inquire for the baby or the twins. On her advice and with her help, Horace Peterby restocked his little store, and even placed a mod- est advertisement in the village paper. Then school closed and Helen pre- pared to return to her home in a dis- tant town. 5 She bade farewell to her new-found friends with some regret, but there was sorrow in her heart when. she kissed the Peterby babies good-by and strained Buster's chubby form to her breast. “You will not return in the fall?” asked Mr. Peterby, regarding her ‘with grave, inscrutable eyes. “We shall miss you, Miss Smith.” “I shall miss all of you, Mr. Peter- by.” Her homeward way led along a pleasant river path; it was the same river that flowed through Greenville, and Helen leaned over the railing of the bridge and watched its liquid flow with dramy eyes. She did not see the dimpling river. Strange to say, she saw a big young man caring for four little children with all the tenderness of a woman— of the woman who had been compelled to leave him alone. Helen's heart beat faster for the recollection. A step sounded on the bridge and she looked up to see the young man of her dreams, or—could this young man, well dressed in blue serge, with irreproachable linen and blue tie, be the disheveled youth who had washed baby garments in the Peterby kitchen? It was, beyond all doubt. He swung off his hat and held out his big, capable hands to engulf her own trembling fingers. “Girl—I need you,” he said choking- ly. “I've thought of you every day for months—ah, Helen, we all need your love!” And Helen, needing his, went straight to his arms. Facts and Figures. Little Lemuel—Say, paw, what is simple addition? Paw—The simplest kind of simple addition is when the parson adds one and one to make one. MV. “ . of th¢ most expensive woods used regularly in an established in- dustry in the United States is box- wood, the favorite. material for wood carving. It hes becn quoted at four cents a cubie inch, and about $1.300 by the thousand board feet. One 1 didn’t knowf | of her engagement. stepped Lack in respectful | l | i l i { him. NOT: VERY WHITE LIES' By GEORGE MUNSON. (Copfright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) | May Halliwell sat staring into the fire while the winter gloom came down and filled the living room with shadows. Jack Strange was to return that night from his trip West; she had not seen him since he had slipped the romantic love, and the matter-of-fact w Jack was as true as business After Jack’s departure she had brok- en down and gone with a girl friend, Louise Martin, to a small summer ho-. tel in the Catskills. A week was all she could afford; besides, there was no one to look after her aunt and the old woman was largely dependent on the kindly neighbors. So she had hastened back, leaving Louise to spend the second week of the vaca- tion alone. But by then the mischief had been done. The man’s name was Frank War- ner, and he had made love to her from the beginning. At first amused, later the girl had been thrilled by the impassioned nature of his love-mak- ing. He had been everywhere and done everything; His stories read like romances, and the thought that she was the only girl who had ever en- raptured him gratified her pride. He touched her heart too. How different from prosaic Jack Strange! She remembered, with a mixture of penitence and delight, that last eve- ning he had taken her into his arms. “I love you, May,” he had said, “and 1 shall always love you.” Then she had blurted out the story She had told him that her flance was away, that she could not in justice release herself until he returned. “After he comes back I shall know my heart, and write to you; again,” she had said, and fled from She had the address he had given her in New York. It was a fashiona- ble hotel. where Frank Warner lived most of the year. And now, with the lapse of two months, she was still uncertain. She was waiting for Jack. She ex- pected him that evening, and she started up as a ring came at the door, her heart beating wildly. But it was only Louise, who often came in to see her at that hour, on her way back from the office, where she was de- tained an hour later than May. “He hasn’t come get?” she asked. “No,” answered May. 2 “You must be anxious to see him, May. If my flance had been away for two months, you bet I'd have worn out my shoes running to the door to peek up the street and see whether he was coming.” “I hope you will have one soon, Loulse,” said May. Louise Martin giggled. “I came near having one this summer,” she said. “Listen, May. Can you keep a se- cret? You won't tell a soul, because —well, there's somebody I shouldn’t like to know about it.” May promised. “Do you remember that awfully good-looking fellow at the hotel, who seemed interested in you—what was his name? Frank Warner, to be sure, Well, after you'd gone he just fol- lowed ma round same way he followed you. My! first, but he had a sort of irresistible way about him, and—and I let him kiss me once. That was the night be- fore I went away.” May felt her heart grow colder than fce. “Well, what do you think? I found out after, through the Hoffmans—you remember those nice girls from Sara- toga, who were staying there?—that he'd tried the same game with half a dozen of the young women at the ho- tel, and some of them had fallen for ft. And what do you think he is? A professional lady-killer. I mean, he does it for a living.” “Louise!” “I shall never go there again, will you, May?” “Indeed, no,” answered May Halli- well. “Well, that's all, dearie, and now I guess I'll be going, because I don't ‘want to spoil your pleasure when Jack arrives.” And she made her way out of the house. May looked into the fire, and the re- membrance of Jack came home to her with a flood tide of bitterness. She thought of his goodnese, his unfailing kindness, his tender consideration tor her, his eternal faith. “I've been a little fool” she sald, “and I've been justly punished. And now—I must make it my task always to love Jack, and never let him sus- pect I—1—" The door bell pealed. She opened it, and the figure upon the threshold caught her in its arms. “May!" “Jack, dearest!™ And she knew the episode of the till then I cannot see you < T used to laugh at him at | . WHO GETS THE MONEY YOU EARN? DO YOU GET IT, OR DOESISOMEBODY ELSE WHO DOES NOT EARN IT? YOUR “EARNING POWER” CANNOT LASTIALWAYS. WHILE YOUARE MAKING MONEY BANK IT ANDIBE FIXED FOR OLD AGE. J0ST DO A LITTLE THINKING. RANK _WITH US. WE PAYIS PERICENT INTEREST ON TIME DEPOSITS. _American State Bank “BE AN AMERICAN"ONEI OF US.” — frevssasesiescresasrisiiss “'Flour! CHEAP P Now is the Time to Lay In a Supply F 98 Ib. Sacks Best Plain Flour - $3.85 24 Ib. Sacks Bcst Plain Flour - 1.00 12 1b. Sacks Best Plain Flour - §0c 98 Ib. Srlf-Rising Flour 400 E. 6. 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