The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 10, 1902, Page 2

TKE following is an absolutely new and unique venture in jour- 4 nalism. In two consecutive edi- tions of The Sunday Call our readers will get the latest revised edition of the novel “None But the Brave,” the literary sensation of the year, for ten cents; five cents each Sunday. In book form it is & $1.50 novel. The first half is published herewith. The second half, completing ‘the booi, will be printed next Sunday. Nothing like this has ever been at- tempted in the West before, but this is only the beginning of The Sunday Call’s mew literary policy. Bigger surprises are to follow. The next novel to be published in this form : “Lazarre,” which has had a 1 success in the East and Europe. Following “La- will come “Alice of Old Vin- “When Knighthood Was in ,” ete., all $1 50 books, which you will get with The Sunday Call for less t one-tenth that price. The bowks and the price speak for them- selves. Not the least interesting feature of t new literary policy is the man- ner in which “None But the Brave” ustrated. Every character has been represented by a living, breath- ing pen being. This idea is also absolutely unique. In order to carry it out properly the full strength of the Frawley Com- pany, mow playing at the Grand ra-house, was utilized, because all the members have appeared in plays of that period and consequently ere thoroughly versed in the customs and manners of the times. Goldstein & Co. costumed the char- and gave their whole staff o insurs correctness in while Goldstein & Cohn the wi nd then tocarry ticn of detail still further udio, where the operator, Mr. b 1, gave particular attention to the setting. The outdoor pictures— t n horseback—were taken un- der the supervision of Professor Dil- lon, riding master of the Park Riding Echool. Never before has so much effort been given to {llustrating a book in any form. jce Johnson for the indoor pic- res Eva Dennison’for the out- r pictures alternated in the part Debby” Philipse. Miss Thais Lawton was Baroness Riedesel, while the le members of the company as- ed the parts as follows: Crone as Merton Balfort, Mr. Lieutenant Hazeltine, Mr. eutenant Curtis, Mr. Rob® Lieutenant Acton and also n, and Mr. Travis as Lieu nt Atherton. pictures are masterpieces in graphy. of STRUTA THE FOOL I7 HIS FACF WITH MY CLOSFD @ rrsy.” (s, (RO CHAPTER L IN WHICH, ]".EVEliEING THE ORDER OF THINGS, A COACH HOLDS UP A HORSEMAN. IS a simple tale, yet not an un- ] eventful one. And as I sit here % and bite the end of my quill, I can see again a dirty night in '80, thirty years ago, a warm, late September evening with the fine rain tum- bling down on the leaves of the trees that bordered the road. Yet back of it all was that constant watchfulness that. young as I was, T had learned always to have by me—a lesson common to ail who had served with Gen- eral Putnam for a year or two. The vig- orous old man had given me many a parting caution as he shook me heart- ily by the hand, telling me to have a cure of this Hudson River country and of the wild thieves that broke out with fine im- partiality upon colonial and King's sol- diers alike. And thus I had ridden out of Connecticyt and turned up the river in (hle midst of the silent, gloomy September rain. It must have becen 8 or 9 o’clock, for darkness comes early in such a country on such a night, and I had had many an anxious quarter of an hour since nightfall looking for the tavern that, ac- cording to my information, ould be about here anywhere. Suddenly 1 became aware of a light in the middle of the road, evidently not from any tavern window, but from an ordinary coach lafitern, moving here_and there so strangely that instinctively Rog- er slowed up, and allowed me to'guide him in under the trees to one side. A moment's observation showed me a huge, and so far as could be told in that ym; light, fine family coach tilted at such an unnatural angle that I perceived it to be in distress. 'I'wo men were at work upon the wheel, or rather standing around ex- amining it. As I approached the coach, a hooded head appeared at the window, and a high, girlish voice said in a strain just betwixt uncontrollable anger and tears: "You wretched men, cannot something be done? Am I to die here in this dread- ful night. Who are you, sir?” “A wanderer, madam, at your service,” I answered, “Thank God for human volce with some temper to it,”” she cried. ‘‘Can you not whip those churls into doing some- thing, sir?” | I could not fall to notice even then that, afrald though she might be, anger con- trolled her more than fear. “‘The case {s not so bad, mistress, as ‘you think. We cannot be more than a mile from Gowan's Tavern, which stands hereabouts.” “But how am I to get there?” “If you could mount my horse, we would make it in a short time, with only & little worse wetting.” Thereupon without reason the note I cannot!” changed. she sald with tears in her volce. “Icannot! UIf you will trust to me—"" ““And who are you?' she cried suddenly. “I do not know you.” Somewhat nettled at these abrupt changes of manner, I was gulity of plque. Wherefore, answering that I had but tried to offer her help, I made as if to move on. \ ““Wait! Wait! In God's name, sir, would you leave me here in such a wildernes; “Indeed, T would not, mistress, but it appears you do not wish my help.” ereupon the door opened, and a chit of a creature in a black hood and Ionx‘ A A A ASACAC A KA v (24 CAA WA &, cape stepped out and down 1alo nearly a foot of mud. I was off Roger In an instant, and by her side. . ‘‘Forgive me, young lady; I was as rude as your men. Come, the thing is not so bad"”; and without more ado, for, to tell the gospel truth, the thought of her little feet in that oozing mud gave me con- fidence, I picked her up as if she had been a baby and set her on old Roger's back. “And -do you two men unhitch the horses and lead them on after us to the tavern,” I aflded. Here was @ pretty mess. What would the general say to his emissary to the commander in chief, so carefully cau- tioned to avoid any embarrassment, to steer clear of aught that might embroil him in delays? What would he say ta me now, trudging along on this wretched night, the rain falling and the mud ris- ing, leading a_horse that bore a burden aropped from I knew not where and clog- 8ing my progressin this ridiculous _fashion; Here was I, Merton Balfort of Putnam'’s division walking up the Hudson River, leading a bedraggled woman in the worst of nights to a mythical inn, which might not exist at all for aught I knew, in a country overrun with Skinners—I, on a mission to General Washington, the im- portance of which I could only gather from Putnam'’s instructions when he gava me the letter and told me how much speed and sagacity meant. At a bend of the road w& came sudden- ly upon the tavern, as the creaking sign over the door designated—a small, com- mon-looking housé rambling off against the side of a hill in as forsaken and silent a spot as ever villain selected for foul deed. There was nothing for it, however, but to :mfht. and in a moment, with nei- ther word nor look, she had slipped off Ro%er's back and walked straight into the hn,n room of the hostelry, and I after er, CHAPTER IL IN WHICH THE WORLD ENDS FOR ONE MAN AND BEGINS FOR ANOTHER. The scene that met our gaze as we got through the door was anything but con- goling. In fact, my companion drew back against me as she entered and instinctive- 1y grasped my arm. For the room, which at %esl was ahout what might have been expected from the exterior of the house, was now filled with the fumes of foul to- bacco, and the long, low ceiling was black with the smoke of lamps that spluttered and smelt till the atmosphere turned ths Borge. At one end burned a fire.In a huge fire- lace. Two or three common tables were n the room, and around one of these a half dozen men stood holding their mugs high in the air as they reeled about and sang in drunken discord: For he's a cho-l-I-y good fel-lo-o-owl = F'r he's a cho-l-1-¥ good fel-lo-o-ow! F'r he's a cho-l-l-y good fel-elo-0-0-0-w, As no-body ca-an de-e-ny-y-y! It was clear enough that tha jolly good fellow on this occasion was a wretched lump of clay lying in a most inhuman pestore under the table. ‘At the farther end of the room stood a bench, which, from the bottles upon it, was evidently the bar, and behind this leaned the tav- ern-keeper, thumping out the time with a pewter mug. As the company appeared to take not the slightest notice of us, but continued to celebrate the virtues of their for the time departed friend, I led my companion over to the fireplace, drew up a stool for her, and bade. her sit quietly. for the double purpose of drying her clothing and avoid- 1 ing any unnecessary attention from the other occupants of the room. Then, still moving quietly, 1 approached the land- lord, and, with many a misgiving, asked him for some sort of food and drink. ‘“‘Aye, food there is none,” cried he, “but you can drink yourself to death, an you will, my friend.” ‘‘Listen to me, landlord,” I sald, sternly. “I have a lady here, and she must have food and lodging this night— I got no further, for he began thumping upcen his bar and shouted to the revel ‘“‘Hi, boys, look here! What in hell's name do ye now! Stop yer screaming and howling! " Do yer not see there's gemtry present?"” The noise ceased in a moment, and the company Stood looking at the tavern- keeper, and then, following the line of his firger, all turned like automatons to whers the girl sat bending over the fire. I had an instant to study them closer, and be- came aware, as one will in the twinkling of an eye, that one of the company ap- peared to be of a better sort. He wora top beots and riding breeks and a swal- low-tail coat, befouled with mud, and by his side hung a long sword. Another was a ‘somber,. long-faced couptryman, while the rest appeared to be clowns, that are alike whether in town or country the world over. The silence lasted but an instant, and then he of the riding boots straightened bimself and cried out: “Why, you whelps of Satan, do you not know a lady has graced our board?’ And as 1 sicled over to the fireplace he rolled this way and that, and finally came close to her as she.turned to look at him. ““Madam,” said he, as he started to make a profound bow with a sweep of his pewter mug, sending a thin line of ale in a circle over the floor, “mad'm, I s'lute But the bow was too much for him, and ke stumbled over his own feet and fell at hers. The quick turn of her head, as she stepped back from him, threw her hood beck on her hair, and then I saw her face for the first time. What a face it was! I shall never for- get it, never! I could not describe it, for it seemed then all eyes and wavy brown halr, and’'a small mouth that had more of scorn in it than I could have believed possible in any human feature. Beauti- ful? Aye,that it was, white now as snow, in its frame of dark hair and darker hood. But T know not what devilish influence the face had on me, for, as the man strug- icd to his feet, she gave him a slow 00k, and then, turning to me, sald quiet- ly, with contempt in her voice:. “Wili_you not protect me, sir?” And I, without hesitation, struck the fool on the face with my closed fist and senltX him rolling over himself against the wall. 'Twas a foolhardy th! to do, and I knew it before I had finished. Ior, 1o sconer was he down, than a howl set up from the others, as they mads for us. There was but time to push one of the lcng tables between us and to draw ‘my rupler, when the craw was at the other side of the low barrier. Yet then I felt mcre tranqul than I had since entering the tavern, for the aftair was taking on the look of a fight, and I had en in =0 many, large and small, of late that there was a certaln familiarity to it, and it put me more at my ease. I turned the pistol out of the nearest man's hand with my point and got the girl behind me, when the leader (for so he was) got l?on his feet, purple with rage, and roared: ““Stop_there! The man has insulted me! Stop! This is not for you, clowns! Clear away here!” And with a soberness I had little expected he scattered them to either side, and leaning his hands on the tadble epluttered in my teeth; You have struck me In the Are ye a coward, or will ye settle this here now?* “Nothirig could be better,” I ln.\r'fi Indeed, nothing at that moment coul have been better, for it q\fi:fi the othe ers, or else In a moment we been dead, or one of us worse ‘“Nothing could be better,” I repeated; *but I wi re, unless you make not stir from a falr fight and give me Gowan,” he added, t: to the tavern- keeper, who seemed to sober, of a sudden, too, “push a tables, and you, my friends, if one-of you does aught to interfere, Tll blow-out his brains!” And he tapped a brace of pistols in his belt. “Now, then, sir, are you ready?’ asked my man, and 1 answered by moving into the middle of the now c.eared room. [ liked it not in any way. The lights wers bad. At best "twas but a fog, and a man cannot be blamed for wishing a good light to watch his enemy's eye. To-one side of the room I could see five thievish-look- ing knaves standing together, and what [ might expect of them at any moment could not be guessed. Then, too, good. swordsman as I was— and 'tis no conceit that makes me say 80, for I had had three years of work by day and night, and half a dozen befors them of constant practice with my father, Captain Balfort, of the Indian wars—but, good swordsman as I might be, no fight is a surety, and I knew nothing of my an- tagonist, excepting that he was partly under the influence of liquor. If I fell, what might not become, of the girl? what might not the papers in my boot mean to him, and those to wham he belonged? And it soon appeared to whom he be- longed, for he crossed my sword at once, saying: “And now for myself and for the king! Watch out, you bastard, for [ am the best of men to play with this tool! And, indeed, he was a master hand. ’ could tell at the first thrust that he wa® better than I, and had he been empty o liquor this tale and my own-lifo had end ed there and then in that dirty room. He was inside my guard a dozen times in the first two minutes, as we ecircled round each other, playing constantly for t light of a single Jantern that hung over the outer door. . Still, I was growing calmer, and had be- gun to gauge him better when he slipped over my thrust and ripped the shoulder of my coat with a sudden and a true strcke. Then, on the instant, 1 heard a stifled cry; and, glancing by his’ head, I saw the girl s!anglm( by the fire/ leaning forward, her hands nervously clasped to- gether at her throat, her hood down on her shoulders and a look of terror in her eyes. ““Ah,” said the wretch, “my lady whim- pers, does she? Fear not, I'll give her ecmfort when thou hast gone to hell. 'Twas a spur that made me mad to think on, reaiizing as I did that he had ail but done for me that moment, and- I went at him with every thrust and stroke I knew, beating his rapier till the room sang with the blows. But I.could not touch him. _ He was a marvelous good hand, and no mistake; for he gaye ground till I had him with his foot at the other wall, but not once did I get Inside his guard. Ancther stifled cry came from the direc- tion of the fireplace, sounding clear in the silent room. and a smile played over the man’s mouth, as he muttered: “Now, one for the king!” And he drew { -