The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 7, 1902, Page 4

lost its forward curl toward the temples and hung thin and ragged around the ears. The hawk-lLke nose seemed hooked to meet the chin; the lips were slack, the mouth half opened. Where once the Governor had been a moéel of neatness in his dress, the frock cost buttoned, the lhnen clean, he now sat in his shirt sieeves, the Waistcoat open and showing the soiled shirt. His hands were stained with ins, and these, the only members of his body that yet appeared to retain their activity, were busy with a great pile of papers—oblong, legal documen tnat littered the tabie before him. Without a moment's cessa- tion these hands of the Governor's came &nd went among the papers, deft, nimble, Gextero Magnus wes sorting papers. From the heap upon his left hand he selected a document, opened it, glanced over it, then tied it carefully and laid it away upon & second pile on his right hand. When 2ll the papers were in one pile he re- versed the process, taking from his right hand to place upon his left, then back from left to right again, then once more from right to left. He spoke w0 word, he sat absolutely still, even his «es did not move, only his hands, swift, <X VO agitated, seemed alive. b how are you, governor?” sald Presley, coming forward. Magnus turned slowly about and looked at him and at the hand in which he shook his own. “Ah,” he said at length; “‘Presley, yes. Then his glance fell, and he looked aim- lessly about upon the floor. 3 “I've come to say good-by, governor, continued Presle: ; “I'm going away. why it's Presley. . 'm going away. T've come to say good-by.” £ “Good-by?” Magnus bent his “brows. “What are you saying good-by for?” “I'm going away, sir.” The governcr did not answer. Staring st the ledge of the desk, he seemed lost in thought. There wi a long silence. Then, at length, Pr y said: “How are you getting on, governor?” Magnus looked up slowly. “Why, it's Presley,” he said. “How do Yyou do, Presley. “Are you getting on all right, sir?” “Yes,” sald Magnus after a while; “yes, all right. 1 am going away. I've come to say good-by. No—" He interrupted himself with & deprecatory smile, “You s»aaid that, didn’t you?” “Well, you are going away, 'wife tells me.” “Yes, I'm going away. I can’t stay on - e hesitated a long time, groping for the right word. “I can’t stay on—on —what's the name of this place?” “Los Muertos,” put in Presley “No, it i Yes, it is, too; that's right, Los Muertos. I don’t know where my memory has gone to of late.” “Well, 1 hope you will be better soon, governor.” As Presley spoke the words 8. Behrman entered the room, and the governor sprang up with unexpected agility and stood ageinst the wall, drawing one long breath after another, watching the rail- road agent with intent eyes. S. Behrman saluted both men affably and sat down near the desk, drawing the links of his heavy watchchain through his fat fingers. “There wasn't anybody outside when I knocked, but I heard your voice in here governor, so 1 came right in. I want to ask you, governor, if my carpenters can begin work in here day after to-mor- Tow. want to take down that parti- tion there and throw this room and the next into one. I guess that will be O K, won't it? You'll be out of here by then, wpn't you?” There was no vagueness about Mag- nus’ speech or manner now. There was that seme alertness in his demeanor that one sees in & tamed lion in the presence of its trainer. “Yes, yes,” send your men here. to-morrow.” “] don't want to seem to hurry you, governor.” “No, you will not hurry me. ready to go now.” “Anything I can do for you, governor?” e is, governor,” insisted S. “I think now that all is over we ought to be good friends. I think I can do something for you. We still want &n assistant in the local freight manager’s office. Now, what do you say to%having & try at it? There's a salary of fifty a month goes with it. 1 guess you must be in need of money now, and there's al- ways the wife to supporf. What do you say? Will you try the place?” Presley could only_stare at the man in speechless wonder, What was he driving at? What reason was there back of this new move, and why should it be made thus openly and in his hearing? An ex- planation occurred to him. Was this merely & pleasantry on the part of S. Behrmen, a way of enjoying to the full his triumph? Was he testing the com- leteness of his victory, trying to see just ow far he could go, how far beneath his feet he could push his old-time en- emy?’ too, your he said quickly, “you can 1 will be gone by I am hat do you say?” he repeated. ““Will you try the place?” “You—you insist?” inquired the gover- nor. “Oh, 'm not insisting on anything,” cried 8. Behrman. “I'm offering you a place, that's all. 'Will you take it?” “Yes, yes; I'll take it 1l come over to our side?” es, I'll come over.” Il have to turn ‘raflroad,’ under- uess there may be times when you'll have to take orders from m “Tll take orders from you. “You'll have to be loyal to rallroad, you ow. No funny business.” “Tli be loyal to the railroad.” ou would like the place, then?” €. Behrman turned from Magnus, who &t once resumed his seat and began again to sort his papers. 'Well, Presley,” said the rallroad agent, guess 1 won't see you l%lln." “I hope not,” answered the other. “Tut, tut, Presiey; you know you can't make me &NgTY. He put on his hat of varnished straw and wiped his fat forehead with his hand- kerchief. Of late he had grown fatter than ever, and the linen vest, stamped with a muititude of interlocked horse- shoes, strained tight its imitation pearl buttons ecross the great protuberant stomach. Presley looked &t the man a moment fore replying. But a few weeks ago could not thus have faced the great enemy of the farmers without a gust of blind rage blowing tempestuous through all bis bones. Now, however, he found to his surprise that his fury had lapsed to & profound contempt, in which there Tas bitterness, but mo truculence. He wes tired, tired to death of the whole business. s ¢ “Yes,” he answered deubernelzi T am ing awey. You have ruined this place gr me. { couldn’t live here where should have to see you, or the results of what you have done, whenever I stirred out of doors.” “Nonsense, Pregley." answered xh”;_ho‘t.th- er, ref to become P 's toolilh::l‘:‘.'thu! kind of mlhou‘h. of course, 1 understand how you feel. 1 guess it was you, wasn't it, who threw that bomb into my house?” “It was.” “Well, that don’t show any common sense, Presley,” returned S. Behrman with perfect aplomb. ‘“What could you have gained by killing me?” “Not so much probably as you have ained by killing Harran and Annixter. ut tha all passed now. You're safe from m The strangeness of this talk, the o y of the situation burst upon him and he laughed aloud. “It don’t seem as though you could be brought to book, 8. Behrman, by anybody, or by any means, does it? They can’t get at you through the courts—the law can't get you, Dyke's pistol missed fire for just our benefit, and you even escaped Cara- zer's six inches of plugged gas pipe. Just what are we going to do with you “Best give it up, Pres, my boy,” re- turned the other. “'| guess there ain't any- can touch me. Well, Magnus,” he said, turning once more to the Governor. “Well, I'll think over what you say, and let you know if 1 can get the flace for you in a day or two. You see.” he added, c‘l’:‘x'"re getting prefty old, Magnus Der- Presley flung himself from the room, unable to witness the depths into which nus had fallen. What other scenes of degradation were enacted in that room, how much further S. Behrman carried the humiliation, he did not know. He sud- denly feit that the air of the office was choking him. He hurried up to what once had been his own room. On his way he could not but note that much of the house was in disarray. & gréat packing-up was 1 prog- pess; trunks, half-full, stood in the hall- ways, crates and cases in a litter of straw encumbered the rooms. The servants came and went with armfuls of books, orpaments, articles of cl 3 Presley took from his room only a few manuscripts and note-books, and a small wvalise full of his personal effects; at the doorway he paused and, holding the knob ©f the door in his hand, looked back into room a very long time. He descended to the lower floor and en- B tered the -room. disay ed. Presley moment in front of 1l Derrick had stood for a long king ence_when Osterman the fight for Railroad Commissioner and then later the attack on Lyman Derrick and the sudden revelation of that incon- ceivable treachery. But as he s con- sidering these things a door to his rignt cpened and Hilma entered the room. Presley came forward, holding out his hand, all unable to believe his eyes. It Wwas a woman, grave, diflz‘l:‘ed. composed, who advanced to meet . Hilma was dressed in black, the cut and fashion of the gown severe, almost monastic. i the little feminine #nd gontradictory dain- tinesses were nowhere to be seen. Her statuesque calm evenness of contour yet remained, but it was the calmness of t sorrow, of infinite resignation. eautiful she still remained, but she was older. The seriousness of one who has ained the knowledge of the world— nowledge of its evil—seemed to her. The cal ty of a great suffer- ing past, but not forgotten, sat upon her. Not yet twenty-one, she exhibited the de- meanor of a woman of forty. The one-time amplitude of her figure, the fuliness of hip and shoulder, the great deep swell from waist to throat were gone. She had grown thinner and, in consequence, seemed unusually, almost unnaturally tall. Her neck was slender. the outline of her full lips and round chin was a little sharp; her arms, those wonderful, beautiful arms of hers, were a little shrunken. But her eyes were as wide open as always, rimmed as ever by the thin, intensely black line of the lashes, and her brown, f: nt hair was still thick, still, at times, glittered and corruscated in the sun. When she spoke, it was with the old-time velvety huskiness of voice that Annixter had learned to love s0 well. ““Oh, it is you,” she said, giving him her hand. “You were good to want to see me before you left. I hear that you are go- ing away.” . She sat down upon the sofa. ““Yes,” Presley answered, drawl a chair near to her, “yes, I felf I could not stay—down here any longer. I am going to take a long ocean voyage. My ship sails in a few days. But you, Mrs. Annixter, what are you going to do? 1s there any way I can serve you?” “No,” she answered, “nothing. Papa is doing well. We are living here now.” “You are well?” She made a little helpless gesture with both her hands, smiling very sadly. “As you see,” she’answered. As he talked, Presley was looking at her intently. Her dignity was a new ele- ment in her character and the certain slender effect of her figure, emphasized now by the long folds of the black gown she wore, carried it almost superbly. She conveyed something of the impression of a queen in exile. But she had lost none of her womanliness; rather, the contrary. Adversity had softened her, as well as deepened her. Presley saw that very clearly. Hilma had arrived now at her perfect maturity. She had known great love and she had known great grief, and the woman that had awakened in her with her affection for Annixter had been strengthened and infinitely ennobled by his death. What if things had been different? Thus, as he conversed with her, Presley found himself wondering. Her sweetness, her beautiful gentleness and tenderness were almost like palpable presences. It was almost as if a caress had been laid soft- ly upon his cheek, as if a gentle hand closed upon him. Here, he knew, was sympathy; here, he knew, was an infinite capacity for love. Theng suddenly all the tired heart of him nt out toward her. A longing to give the best that was in him to the mem- ory of her, to be strong and noble be- cause of her, to reshape his purposeless, half wasted life with her nobility and pur- ity and gentleness for his inspiration leaped all at once within him, leaped and stood firm, hardening to a resolve strong- er than any he had ever known. For an Instant he told himself that the suddenness of this new emotion must be evidence of its insincerity. He was per- fectly well aware that his impulses were abrupt and of short duration. But he knew that this was not sudden. With- out realizing he had been from l*’ne first drawn to Hilma, and all ‘throlgh these last terrible days. since the ‘time he had seen her at Los Muertos, just aft- er the battle at the ditch,. she had ab- truded conxlnual’lly upon his thoughts. T?he sight cf her to-day, more beautiful than ever, quiet, strong, reserved, had @ only brought matters to a culmination. “Are you,” he asked her, “are you so unhappy, Hilma, that you can look for- ward to no more brightness in your life?"’ “Unless I.could forget—forgét my hus- band,” she answered, “how ¢an I be hap- py? 1 would rather be unhappy in re- membering himg than happy in forgetting him. He was my whole world, literally and truly. Nothing seemed to count be- fore I knew him, and nothing can count for me now, after I have lost him.” “You think uow,” he answered, “that in being happy_ again you would be dis- loyal to him. But you will find after a while—years from now—that it ‘need not be so. The part of you that belonged to your husband can always keep him sa- cred, that part of you that belongs to him and he to it. But you are:young; you have all your life to live yet. Your sorrow need not be a burden to you. If you consider it as you should—as you will some day, believe me—it will only be a great help to you. It will make you more noble, a truer woman, more generous.” “I think I see'” she answered, “and I xtlever thought about it in that light be- ore."” “I want to hely you,” he answered, *as you have helped me. I want to be your friend, and above all things I do not want to see your life wasted. am going away, and it is quite possible I shall never see you again, but you will always be a help to me.” “I do not understand,” she answered, “but I know you mean to be very kind to me. Yes, I hope when ou come back—if you ever do—you will still be that. I do not know why you should want to be so kind, unless—yes, of gourse—you were my husband’s ~ dearest riend. They talked a little longer, d at length Presiey rose. ' ";’n “I cannot bring m; Der- rick again,” he‘lfli‘e "It.?vul;‘ onl; serve to make her very unhappy. Wiil you explain that to her? I think she will understand.” ‘Yes,” answered Hilma. “Yes, I willL" There was a pause. There seemed to be nothing more for either of them to say. Presley held out his hand. "Go.:d-by," she said, as she gave him He carried if to his 7 “Good-by,” he answered, ‘good-by, and may God bless you,” He turned away abruptly and left the room. But as he was quietly making his way out of the house, hoping to gct to s horse unobserved, he came suddenly upon Mrs. Dyke and Sidney on the porch of the house. He had torgotten tnat since the affair at the ditch Los Muertos had been a home to the engineer’s mother and daughter. “and you, Mrs. Dyke,” he asked as he e I!k‘mher h;nd, “;ln this br;”lx—up of ev- e ng where do you go o tne city,” she answered, “to San Francigco. 1 have a sister there who will look after“the little tad.” yourself, Mrs. “But you—how about Dyke?” . Bhe answered him in a quiet voice, mo- notonous, expressionless: “1am going to die very soon, Mr:. Pres- ley. There is no reason why I should &l‘ any longer, My son is in prison for everything is over for me, I am tired, worn out.” e _ “You mustn’t talk like that, Mrs. Dyke, ‘rotert.ed Presle; ;t“nonun'ge. ln.Ytfll will ve long eno o see the marricd. He ‘iried to be. cheerful; but he knew his words lacked the ring of conviction. Death already overshadowed the face of the engineer's mother. He 8h ke the truth, and as he g to her for the last out little Sidney’s shoul- der, he knew that he was u.ln'! the be- nnings of the wreck of another fam- ily, and that, like Hilda Hooven, another baby girl was to be started in life, through no fault of hers, fearfully handi- capped, weighed down at the threshold of gustence with a load of disgrace. Hilda Hooven and Sidney Dyke, what was to be their histories? the one sister of an out- cast, the other, daughter of a convict And he thought of that other young girl, the little Honora Gerard, the 'heiress of millions, petted, loved, receiving adula- tions from all who came near her, whose only care was to chogse from among the multitude of pleasures that the world hastened to present to her consideration. “Good-by,” he sald, holding out his and. “Good by, sta “Good-by, Sidney.” He Kissed the 1lctie. girl, clasped Mrs. Dyke's hand a moment with ; then, slinging his satchel about his shoulders by the long strap with which it was pro- vided, left ‘the house, and mounting his horse rode’away from Los Muertos never to_return. Presley came out upon the county road. At a little distance to his left he could See the group of buildings where once Broderson lived. These were being re- modeled at length to suit the larger de- mands of the new agriculture. A strange man came out by the road gate; no doubt the new proprietor. Presley turned away, hurrying northward along the county road by the mammoth watering tank and the long wind-break of poplars. He came to Caraher's place. There was no change here. The saloon had ‘weath- ered the storm, indispensable to the new as well as to the old regime. The same dusty buggies and buckboards were tied under the shed, and as Presley hurried by he could distinguish Caraher’'s voice, ioud as ever, proclaiming his creed o annihilation. Bonneville Presley avoided. He had no assoclations with the town. He turned aside from the road, and crossing the northwest corner of Los Muertos and the railroad turned back along the upper road till he came to the long trestle and An- nlxtgr's—!flence, desolation, abandon- ment. A vast stiliness, Profound, unbroken, brooded low over all the place. No liv- ing !hln{ stirred. The rusted windmill on the skeletonlike tower of the artesian well was motionless; the great barn emp- ty; the windows of the ranch-house, cook- house and dairy bqarded up. Nailed upon a tree near .the broken gateway was a board, white painted, with stenciled letters, bearing the inscription: * “Warning. ALL PERSONS: FOUND TRESPASSING ON THESE PREMISES WILL BE PROSECUTED :TO_THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW. By order P. and 8. W. R. R.” As he had planned, Presi bills' by the headwaters of: Creek, late in the afternoon. ) climbed them, reached the highest.. and, turning about, looked long the last time at all ‘the Te: 1 unrolled beneath him, The d ‘of ranches opened out forevs under the stimul range of _visio pig: 8 sweep ‘of the, Sed patided 1 c before the € nind, Aagel- ln?zd with heat, q -and shimmer- ing under the sun’s redieve. ‘was the . season after the harvest, md“t‘u great earth, 'the mother, - after its R0 reproduction, {ts pains of labor, 45 ed of the fruit of its loins, slept the siee of exhaustion in the infinite Kopos OF Tib colossus, benignant, eternal, strong, the nourisher of mnations, the feeder of an satire forid, B nd as Presley looked thers 'came * tb him strong and true the sense and the significance of all the enigma of growth. He seemed for one moment to touch the explanation of existence. Men were noth- ings, mere animalculae, m..fimm ides that fluttered and fell and were for- gotien between‘dawn and dusk. Vanames ad said there. was no death.” But for one second Presley could g0 one step farther. Men were naught, death was naught, life was naught; force only exs isted—force .that brought men into the world, force that crowded them out of it to make way for the succeeding gener- ation, force that made the wheat grow, force that garnered. it from'th- to give place to the succeeding crop. - It was the mystery of creation, the stupendous miracle of re-creation; the vast rl;{thm of the seasons, measured, -alternative, the sun.and the stars keep- ing time as the eternal symphony of re- production swung in its tremendous ca- dences like the colossal pendulum of an almighty ~ machine—prim energy flung out from the hand of the Lord G!od himself, immortal, calm, infinitely strong. But as he stood #hus looking down upon the great valley he was aware .of the figure of a man far in the distance, mov- Ing steadily toward the mission of San uan. The man was hardly more dot, but there 'afi someth‘; um;!ll:t:kt ably familiar in his gait. nd besides this, Presley. could fancy that he wi hatless. He touched: his pony with h.l': spur. The man was Vanamee beyond all reached the ” THE SUNDAY CAL doubt. "And a little later Pmlm de- scending the mase of cow pa and cattle trails that led down toward the Broderson Creek, overtook his friend. ‘Instantly Presley was aware of an Iazfi mense change. Vanamee's face wWas s that of an ascetjc, still glowed e paiznes gl ot £ onee o - ins; . brale 1'3'5: s bat the shadow of that ded over him was gone: the 8tk that once he had fancied deathless was indeed, dead, or rather swallowed up in a victorlous ‘joy that radiated like sun- light at fll"ny from the d set by b and ey the hollow, thy cheel Together ‘till nearly sundown, but for Vahenae BT o e Sotid lor '8 ines3 l‘ly not] . Only once he allowed him- self to to upon the subject. “Death and grief mfl_ ol things,” he sald. “They Life must be before death, mnfl grief.” Else there are e Tifs ositi: Dea 3 8 DO lve. the absence of life, just as night is only the absence of day, and if there is no such thing as death. is only life, and the suppression of‘h ‘e that we, foolishly, say is death. pression,’ I say, not extinction. I do not say that iife returns. Life n-&ljr de; Life simply is. For cer !fl seasons it is hidden in the dark, but ; that death, extinction, annihbilation? take it, thank God, that it is not. D« the grain of wheat, hidden for certain seasons in the dark, die? The grain we think {s dead resumes sgain; but hows Not as one grain, but as twenty. So all life. Death Is only real for ail the de- tritus of the world, for ail the sorrow, for all the Injustice, for all the grief. Presley, the good never dies; cruelty, Opgreunon, selfishness, greed— ihese "dfe; but nobility, but love, but sacrifice, but generosity, but truth, t 5 God for it, small as they are, difficult as it is to ‘discover them—these live for- ever, these are eternal. You are all broken, all cast down by what you have seen in this valley, this hopeless strug- le, this a r:.renuy hopless desp: ell, the en not yet. What 18 remains after all is over, after th are burled and the hearts are broken? Look at it from the vast height of hu- manity—‘the greatest good to the great- est numbers.’. What remains? Men per- ish, men are corrupted, hearts are rent asunder, but what remains untouched, unassailable, undefiled. Try to find that, not only in this, but in every crisis of the world's life, and you will find, if your view is large enough, that it is not evil, but good, that in the end remains. There was a long pause. Presley, his mind full of new thoughts,-held his peace, and Vanamee added at length: “I belleved Angele dead. I wept over her grave; mourned her as dead in cor- ruption. She has come back to me, more beautiful than ever. Do not ask me .ny further. To put this story, this ldyl, into words, would, for me, be profana- tion. This must suffice you—Angele has returned to me and I am happy. Adlos. He rose suddenly, The friends clasped each other's hand. b bt “We shall probably never meet again, sald Vanamee, “‘but if these are the last words I ever speak to you, listen to them and remember them, because I know I speak the truth. Evil is short lived. Never judge of. the whole round of life by the mere segment you can see. The whole is, in the end, perfect.” Abruptly he_took himselt away. He was gone. Presley, alone, thoughtful, his hands clasped behind him, passed on through the ranches—here teeming with ripened wheat—his face set from them forever. Not so Vanamee. the countryside, now through the de- serted cluster of buildings that had once been Annixter's home; now through the rustling and as yet uncut wheat of Quien Babe; now treading the slopes of the hills tar to the north, and again following the wlndln&fou'rae: of the strcams. Thus he ! For hours he roamed -spent. ‘At length the day broke, resplendent, cloudless. .The night was passed. There Wwas all the sparkle and «ffervescence of joy in_the crystal suniight as the dawn expanded roseate, and at length flamed dazzling to- the zenith when the fi amee stood moved over the edge of the world looked down upon all the earth llke e of God the F‘\l ‘the wheat in a solitary eorn::_fit ‘was” now odorless. - Under the ht of the day it stretched to sides, , brown, unlovely. mance of the place had vanish with-it had vanished %he vision. was no longer a figment of his fmagination, a creature of his dreams, that.advanced to meet Vanamee, It was reality—it was Angele in the flesh, vital, sane, ma- terial, who at last issued forth from ‘the entrance of the little valley. Romance had vanished, but better than romance was ‘here. Not a manifestation, not a dream, but her veri self, ) n(;ht was one, but the sun had r‘lan; the flowers gld disappeared, but . strong, "vigerous, Boblo. the wheat had Rome o1 sorw In the wheat he waited for her. saw her coming. She was simply “No tunqnlul wreath of tube roses was about her head now, no strange garment of red and gold enveloped her now. It was no evbecent: mystio: DUt & Smble SouSEry y c, ut a si le coun girl coming to meet her lover. The vitf:ivl 9f,the night had been Jseutial. ta was compares 0 was better than romance. T%a slmpley hon- esty of a loving, trusting heart was bet- ter than a legend of flowers, an hal- lucination of the moonlight. She c: rearer, Bathed in su t, he law'l:: face to face, saw her Ir ging in two straight plaits on either side of -her face, (gaw the enchanting fullness of her Jips, the strange, balanciug movement of her head upon her slender neck. But E:r';unlhee;n no‘ l?"(“{] ule;p. 'l‘l'uil won- es, Viol ue, heavy lldded, with thelr Derp?axlng oriental slant % . HE bringing in of a long suit de- pends most generally upon two fac- tors at least other than strength in the suit itself; these are trumps and cards of re-entry. The duties of the former have been lately treated in this connection, so we will now con- sider the functions and effect of the lat- ter. A re-entry card is one which enables & player to take a trick and so secure,a lead after the opening of a deal, Certain- ly & trump may ‘afford re-entry and a hand containing five or six trumps may be considered sufficlently strongly equip- ped for the establishment of the suit without the presence of any cards of re- entry in plain suits. But with such a hand it is usually safest to develop the suit before leading the trumps. The amount of re-entry strength necessary to a hand will depend upon the high card strength of the long sult. One headed by the jack may require three rounds:to es- tablish it, and should be supported by at least two re-entries (allowing for the ori- ginal lead), that is, either five trumps and a winning card in a plain suit or four trumps and two plain suit winners. With @ suit which can probably be established in two rounds one re-entry may bring in the long cards. Re-entries which are lacking in the original leader's hand may be found in his partner’s, and should be carefully looked for, and a player hald- ing such card should try to ascertain if his partner needs it, and if so, t6 guard it and play it for the best advantage of the long suit on the other side of the ta- ble. s For example, Soutd holds the following cards: Spades, ace, J., 10, 7, 6, 4; hearts (trumps), J., 8, 6, §; clubs, 4, 8; dlamonds, He leads the ace of clubs and continues with the 7. All the players follow suit. The fall marks North with a small one remaining and West takes the second LESSON IN THE FASCINATING GAME round. = West then leads a low club,” on ‘which North plays queen and East takes it with the ace and opens a diamond suit, thereby drawing South’s re-entry. Not- withstanding the loss South should lead trumps :for his established spadés without hesftation, for his partner is practically marked with the king of clubs, which will enable him to re-enter SBouth at a later stage. Second hand should always be on the lookout to save re-entries to his part- ner's hand by putting ‘up eards which may hold the trick, When the only one is endeavoring to bring in, it may be necessary to finesse very deeply and sometimes to refuse to take a certain trick. The hand ‘which s deficlent in re- entries must be very careful not to impair any possible chance of regaining the lead. Suppose trumps be out'and South to Hold an established suit and jack and three small of another which has not been open- ed. A third suit being led, South would better discard from his leng cards rather than remove one of the guards from the Jack, which may be the means of putting him in again, * A o Since the possession and retention of re- . - entries fs of such importarice it follows ; endeavor to force them prematurély from' the hand - of an adversary who is playing for a long - that the caleulating player suit. ‘We will ;suppose that South has established clubs 'and Jeads hearts (trumps) for their protection. West 'gets in on the first round, and having ace; king, queen of spades, surmises that South is depending upon a dlamond re- entry. He should.Jead a diamond with a view to drawing South's winner on the suit before dealis further dev Shen 1t 1 ovident that mm the long suit is relying upon re-en in his partner's hand every effort be made to render them inoperative. u:l hand illustrating the re-entry prin- le: By Mrs. E. P. Schell. e ntce g ) North, 89,176 2 Hod, SKiara West. s e 5K, 3,8 4 S.—A, 6. H—AQ‘, :. 10, 8, 5. H-9 638 - DK, & St LA R T R 5 This Sunday’s Call completes Frank Norris’ great American novel, “The Octopus.” . Get The Sunday Calls of November 9, 16, 23, 30 and December 7 (five cents each) and you have the complete novel—the nearést approach to the “Great American Novel” ever written. { For full announcement of cur:innovation in shortstories -ccmplete in each issue of The The magnificent Christmas Edition of The Sunday Call Don’t miss ft!+ 4 _GREATEST FEATURE EDI- TION EVER PUBLISHED. The “Gospel of Judas Is- sensation of the year. S — , this meet_her and she held out her arms to him. He caught her to him, and she, t her face to his, kissed him on the mout “I love you, I love you, o ° WL e T AL . . Upon descending from his train at Port Costa, 8. Behnn{u asked to be directed at once to where the bark Swanhilda was taking on grain. Though he had bought and greatly his new elevator at seen it. The work lons to démand his pres- th however, he Was to see the corcrete evidence of bis success for the first time. He picked his way across the railroad tracks to the line of warehouses that bor- dered the docks, numbered with enormous Roman numerals and full of grain In bags. The sight of these b of grain put him in l‘mlnd of the fl.c:‘:hlt among all the other shippers he was ractically alone in his way of handling his wheat. They handled the grain in bags; he, how- ever, trurtex-ud it in the bulk. Bags were sometimes four cents apiece, and he had decided to build his elevator and bulk his grain therein, rather than to incur this expemse. Only o wmall part of his wheat —that on Number Thres division—had been sacked. All the rest, practically two-thirds of the entire harvest of Los Muertos, now found itself warehoused in his enormous elevator at Port Costa. To a certain degree it had been the de- sire of observing the workings of his sys- tem of handling the wheat in bulk that had drawn S. Behrman to Port Costa. But the more powerful motive had been curlosity, not to say downright sentiment, 8o lon d he pll.nr;‘e.d for this day of triumph, so eagerly d he looked for- ward to it, that now, when it had come, he wished to énjoy it to its fullest ex- tent, wished to miss no feature of the disposal of the crop. He had watched it harvested, he had watched it hauled to the rallway, and now would watch it as it poured fnto the hold of the ship, would even watch the ship as she cleared and got under way. He passed through the warehouses and came out upon the dock that ran parallel with the shore of the bay. A great quan- tity of shipping was in view, barks for the most part, Cape Horners, great deep sea tramps, whose iron-shod forefeet had %arxed every ocean the world round from angoon to fihh.nflro. and from Mel- bourne to Christianla. Some were still in the stream, loaded with wheat to the Plimsoll mark, ready to depart with the next tide. But many others laid their great flanks alongside the docks and at that moment were being filled by derrick and crane with thousands upon thousands of bags of wheat. The scene was brisk; the cranes creaked and swung incessant- 1y with a rattle of chains; stevedores and wharfingers tofled and perspired; boat- swains and dockmasters shouted orders, drays rumbled, the water lapped at the plles: a group of sallors, palnting the a: of one of the great ships, ralsed an occasfonal shanty; the trade wind sang aeollan in the cordage, filling the alr with the nimble taint of salt. All around were the noises of ships and the feel and flavor of the sea. S. Behrman soon discovered his eleva- tor. It was the largest ture dis- cernible, and upon its red roof, in enor- mous white letters, was his own name. Thither, between piles of grain bags, hait- ed drays, crates and boxes of merchan- dise, with an occasional pyramid of sal- mon cases, 8. Behrman took his way. Cabled to the dock, close under his ele- vator, lay a great ship with lofty masts and great spars. Her stern was toward him as he ap hed, and upon it, in raised golden letters, he could read 'the ‘words, “Swanhilda—Liverpool.” He went aboard by a very steep gang- way and found the mate on the quarter- deck, 8. Behrman introduced himself. “Well,” he added, “how are you get- ting on 5 ""ery fairly, sir,”” returned, the mate, who was an lishman. “We'll have her all snugged down tight by this time day after to-morrow. It's a rrut sav- n her like ing of time shunting the stuff ; that, and three mten can do the work of seven.” % % m‘,‘l“ll ‘havs & look around, I believe,” re- ;’;fig’m—'«;w m:‘orcd'm II.&?. with & S. Be went forward to hatch g:s oD down into yu?l Totd of at iron .chute connected . with the ; and th it was rushing a veritable of e e sigantic bl came from some c bin within the elevator itselt, mufinf down the con- nes of the chute to plunge into the roomy, gloomy interior of the hold with an incessant, metallic roar, persistent, steady, inevitable. No men were in sight. The _place was deserted. No human agency seemed to be .back of the move- ment of the whedat. Rather, the grain seemed impelled with a force of its own, a resistless, huge force, eager, vivid, im- patient for the sea. = . Behrman stood watching, his ears deafened with the roar of the hard grains ;Plnn the metallic liningof the chute. e ‘put his hand once into the rushing tide, and the contact the flesh of his fingers and like undertow drew his hand after it in its impetuous dash. Curiously he peered down into the hold. A musty odor rose to his nestrils, the vigorous, pungent aroma.of the raw ce- real. It was dafk. He could see noth- ing; but al about and over the opening e ot et L, 2 mpalpal st e eyes an choked the throat and nostrils. ‘o As his eyes became used to of the cavern below hi; he began to distinguish the m of the wheat, a great expanse, almost liquid in its tex- t‘iu‘e. wm‘n e -’l"tha cat R :lbovo unged into’ moved v S in ong, slow eddies. h-\ttnood there this en“"cl-:t{oqtnur:ed"“tdbo.:l— casting h’ln . e s eyes Gipward toward the eleyator to discoyer the cause. His foot caught in a coil of ;oY; and’ he fell headforemost into the old. The fall was a long one and h the surface of the‘:hu! with th:trl%cdk- South. 5.—Q. 10, 3. H—A K, 17,8 C.—10. ¥ DA, 7,754 ‘Trumps, spades; South to lead. Tk. N. B.. | Sar W. 1. %4 3d - *Ad 8d 2. 104 6d &d *Kd 8. 4n 2h *Kh 10h 4 28 bs Qs *Ks 5. Qd 6h *Ah Jh 6. 6s *As 10s 4s 7. 2¢ *Sh Th bh 8. *Ke Qe 100 3 9. 9c Je *3s Ac 10. ¥s 30 3h &h 1. 7e 8c 4d *8s 12. 9s 4e a *Js 1. 2d be Ja *Qh East and West, 7; North and South, 6. South very properly opens the diamond suit, using the hearts for re-entry. With the original lead, three trumps and a dou- ble re-entry, there are fair chances of bringing in the diamonds. - Trick 2—North is evidently unblocking and South can place the rest of the suit with him. - J West’'s hand is not so strong as it 1doked at first sight. One of his re-entries ‘was mnecessary to get In and another— either the club ace or a tr be drawn before his suit is established, un- East holds the ace and king. 3—West’s lead in this hand is now ‘more generally used than the queen lead n-omm gtxh' combination in question. . ‘South’s best tion at this point is his King falls to the ace, West is left with ‘whereas in the same situation * middle. ) -gocd whist den impact of a bundle of damp clothes. For_the moment he was stunned. All the breath was driven from his body. He could neither move nor cry out. But, by degrees, his wits steadied themselves and his breath returned to him. He looked about and above him. The daylight in the hold was dimmed and clouded by the thick, chaff-dust thrown off by the pour of grain, and even this dimness dwindled to twilight at a short distance from the opening of .the hatch, while the remotest Qquarters were lost in impenetrable biack- ness. He got upon his feet only to flk— that he ankle deep in the loose paci ed mass underfoot. > s «Hell,” he muttered, “here’s & flx™ = Directly underneath the chute, e wheat, as it poured in, raised itself in a conical mound, but from the sides of this mound it shunted away incessantly in thick layers, flowing in all directions with the nimbleness of water. Even as 8. Behrman spol a wave of grain poured around his legs and rose rapidly to the level of his knees. He stepped quickly back. To stay near the chute would soon bury him to the waist. No doubt there was some other exit from the hold, some companton ladder that led up to the deck. He scuffled and- waded across the wheat, rrumn"v in the dark with outstretched hands. With ev- ery inhalation he choked, filling his mouth and nostrils more with dust than with air. At times he could not breathe at all, but ged and gasped, his Ii distended. But search as he would, he could find not outlet to the hold, no stair. way, no companion ladder. Again and again, staggering along in the black dark- ness, he bruised his knuckles and fore- head against the iron sides of the ship. He gave up the attempt to find any in- terior means of escape, and returned la- boriously to the space under the open hatchway. Already he could see t the level of the wheat was raised. ““God,” he said, “this isn't going to do_at all.” He uttered a great shout. on deck there, somebody. For God's sake!” The steady, metallic Toar of the pour- ing wheat drowned out his voice. He could scarcely hear it himself above the rush ‘of the cataract. Besidées this, he found it impossible to stay under the hatch. The yln‘g fra.lnl of wheat, spat- tering_ as they fell, stung his face like wind-driven particles of ice. It was a veritable torture. His hands smarted with it. Once he was all but blinded, Furthermore, the succeeding waves of wheat, rolling from the mound wunder the chute, beat him back, swirling and dashing against his legs, mounting swift- 1y_higher, carrying him off his feet. Once more he retreated, drawing back from.beneath the hatch. He stood still for and shouted again. It 'His velce returned upon Eim, unable to penetrate the thunder of the chute, and, horrified, he discovered that so soon as he stood motionless upon the wheat he sank into it. Before he knew it he was knee-deep again, and a long swirl of graln sweeping _out- ward from the ever-breaking, ever-form- ing pyramid below the chute, =poured around his thighs, immobolizing him. A frenzy of terror suddenly leaped to life within him. The horror of death, the fear of the trap, shcok him like a dry reed. Shouting, he tore himself free of the wheat and once more scrambled and struggled toward the hatchway. He stumbled as he reached it and feil di- rectly beneath the pour. Like a storm of small shot, mercilessly, pitilessly, the unnumbered multitude of hurtling grains flagellated and beat and tore his flesii. Blood streamed from his forehead, and, thickening with the powderlike chaff dust, blinded his eyes. He struggled to his feet once miore. An avalanche from the cone of wheat buried him to his thl‘fhl. He was forced back and back and back, beating_the air, falling, howling for aid. no longer his eyes, cramme: s if transfixed with needles whenever he opened them. His mouth was full of dust, his lips were dry with it; thirst tortured himi while his outcries choked and f“f’d in his rasped throat. And all the while, without stop, inces- santly, inexorably, the wheat, as if mov- ing dw{;.h & force all its own.’shot down- n a prolonges roar, T en! steady, inevitable. o 5 He retreated to a far corner of the hold and sat down with his back Inst the fron hull of the ship and led to collect his thoughts, to calm himself. Surely there must be some way of es- cape; surely he was not to dle like this, die in this dreadful substance that was neither solid nor fluld. What was he to do? How make himself heard? But even as he thought about this the con: \mdex-t tlha nhu'u broke again and sent a great layer of grain and tumbling toward him. It flrtplpchlfi him ::er;ool:e sat, and buried his hand and e < He sprang up trembling and made for “By God,” he cried. “By God. think of something pretty quick!" Once more the level of the wheat rose and the grains began piling deeper about him. Once more he retreated. Once more he crawled Staggering to the foot of the cataract, scream 1 his ears sang and his eyeballs strained in their sockets, and gci more ‘he relentless tide drove him .C] Then began that terrible dance of He could d with dust, -another corner. I must death; the man dodging, doubling, =quirming, hunted from one corner to another, the wheat slowly, inexorably flowing, rising. spreading to every angle, 10 every nook and cranny. It reached his Furious and with bleeding hands and broken nails, he dug his way out to fall backward, all but exhausted, g: ing for breath in the dust-thickened alr. Roused again by the slov advance of the tide, he leaped up and stumbled away, blinded with the agony in his eyes, only to crash against the metal hull of the vessel. He turned about, the blood streaming from his face, and paused to collect his senses, and with a rush, an- other wave swirled about his ankles and knees. Exhaustion grew upon him. To stand still meant to sink; to lle of sit meant to be buried the quicker; and all this In the dark, all this in an air that could scarcely be breathed, toiling in a sea that could not be stayed. Guided by the sound of falling wheat, 8. Behrman crawled on hands and knees toward the hatchway. Once more _he raised his voice in a shout for help. His bleeding throat and raw, parched P re- fused to utter but a wheezing moan. Once more he trled to look toward the cne patch of faint light above him. His eyelids, clogged with chaff, could no longer open. The wheat poured about his waist as he raised himself upon his knees, Reason fled. Deafened with the roar of F WHIST. if he falls to cover the leader’s partner, of course, allows the queen to go through, and West’s lower card only is promoted, while the leader secures a second round &t once. There is hardly a possible ex- ception to:the rule of covering second hand when holding fourchette over an honor led. Trick 5—West continues with jack to show five in suit. North might go in with a trump to save his partner’s re-entry, but as South’s lead of queen must have been from a short suit, North is loth to break his four trumps. Moreover, he ex- pects that if he allows South’s heart ace to be drawn, the latter will infer that he has strength in trumps and re-entry. Trick 6—Since his partner is marked with the ace of trumps, ‘West lets the trick go up to him. Trick 7—North can read the heart nine as East’s last card of the suit-and refuses to take the trick, knowing that the latter can have nothing but clubs Jeft. Trick $—East knows that both West and North are depending upon clubs for a re- entry, the ace and king almiost certainly divided between them. He desires to save his partner’s re-entry and draw that of North, and so leads from the top of his long suit. y Trick —While North might force W. here by leading the diamond, '-baht:: ‘would unddubtedly draw two irum. and s0 destroy South’s last chance of re-entry. South is marked with three diamonds, one heart and one trump, and so can have no clubs. By forcing his partmer Noxth sure of two or three _whether South comes back with a heart ora Tricks 10 and 11—The position of all tie remaining cards is quite clear to North, 1f he can keep the lead with East he must make his_trump. It is one of those chances which often occur and which a stra will ‘;‘: uwm try for, hoping e the blinded lum! Ith ns em?’ha threw himself forward with clutching fingers, rolling upon his back, moving feebly, the head olling from side to side The wheat I continuously _from the chute, pou: around him. It filled the pockets of the coat, it crept up the sleeves and trousers legs, it covered the great, fro— tuberant stomach, it ran at last in rive- sets into the distended, gaping mouth. It covered the face. Upon the surface of the wheat, under the chute, nothing moved but the wheat itself. There was no sign of life. Then, for an instant, the suriace stirred. hand, with short fingers and veins, reached up, clutching. limp and prome. In another instant it was covered. In the hold of the Swan- hilda there was no movement but th. widening ripples that spread flowing from the ever-breaking, ever-reforming cone; no sound but the rushing of (h- wheat that continued to plunge incds- and lay there, santly from the iron chute in_a pro- longed roar, persistent, steady, mev- itable. CONCLUSION. The Swanhilda. cast off from the docks at Port Costa two days after Presley had left Bonneville and the ranches and made her way up to San Francisco, anchoring in the stream off the ci(grtron!. A few hours after her arrival, Presley, walting at his club, received a dispatch from Ce- darquist to the effect that she would clear early the next morning and that he must be aboard of her before midnight. He sent his trunks aboard and at once hurried to Cedarquist's office to say good- by. He found the manufacturer In ex- cellent spirits. “What do you think of Lyman Derrick now, Presley”” he sald, when Presley had sat down. ‘“He’s In the new politics with a vengeance, isn’'t he? And our own dear railroad openly acknowledges him as their candidate. You've heard of his canvass.” ““Yes, yes,” answered Presley. “Well, he knows his business best.” But Cedarquist was full of another idea; his new venture—the organizing of a line of clipper wheat ships for Pacific and Oriental trade—was prospering. “The Swanhilda is the mother of the fleet, Pres. I had to buy her, but the keel of her sister ship will be laid by the time she discharges at Calcutta. We'll carry our wheat into Asia yet. The Ang! on started from there at the beginning of everything and it's manifest destiny that he must circle the globe and wetch up where he began his march. You are up with the procession, Pres, going to India this way in a wheat ship that flles Ameri- can colors. By the way, do you know where the money is to come from to build the sister ship of the Swanhilda? From the sale of the plant and serap trou of the Atlas Works. Yes, I've given it up definitely, that business. The ple herg would not back me up. Good-by to you. “Good-by, sir.” “Get fat yourself while you're about it Presley,” he observed, as the two stood up_and’shook hands. “There shouldn’t be any lack of food on a wheat ship. Bread emough, surely.” “Little monotonous, though. ‘Man can- not live by bread alome.' Well, you're really off. Good-by.” “Good-by, sk And as Presley issued from the bufld- ing and steppe gut into the strest he abruptly aware of a gr n N uded. n white cloth, Inside. of wiich a bass drum was being furiously beaten. On the cloth, in great letters, were the words: “Vote for Lyman Derrick, regular Re- ublican nominee for Governor of Cali- ¢ &igiTe Y e The Swanhilda lifted and rolled slowly, majestically on the ground sweil of the Pacific, the water hissing and bolling un- der her forefoot, her cordage vibrating and droning in the steady rush of the trade winds. It was drawing toward evening- and her lights had just been set. The master passed Presley, who was lean- ing over the rail smoking a cigarette, and paused ll::x enough to remark: “The yonder, if you can make it out, is Point Gordo, and if you wers o draw a line from our position now through that point and carry it on about s hundred miles farther it would just about cross Tulare County not very far from where you used to live.” “I see,” answered Presley, “I see. Thanks. I am glad to know that.” ‘The master passed on, and Presley, go- Ing up to the guarterdeck, looked long and earnestly at the faint line of moun- tains that showed vague and bluish above the waste of tumbling water. Those were the mountains of the Coast Raj and beyond them was what once had his home. Bonneville was there, and Guadalajara and Los Muertos and Quien Sabe, the mission of San Juan, the Seed ranch, Annixter's desolated home and Dyke's ruined hop flelds. ‘Well, it was all over now, that terrible drama through which he had lived. Al- ready it was far distant from him; but once again it rose in his memory, por- tentous, somber, ineffaceable. He it all in review from the day of meeting with Vanamee to the day of his parting with Hilma. He saw it all—the reat sweep of country ofcnln‘ to_view from the summit of the hills at the head waters of Brods ' ight upon the engine, his in the chaj ; Lyman Derri bay in 'h:b?tmdn g ofi thhz. at th u—nnnu ral ve; the fig] 3 ditch, the shouting mob in the Bonneville opera-house. The drama was over. The fight of ranch and railroad had been wrought out to its dreadful true, - grim had sald, that forces rather than men had horns that but for all that the men of the ranch and not the men of the fered. Into the loping monster, that terror steam burst, shooting ath: horizons, fiinging the echo of th ranches of the of the octopus; the iniquitous burden of extortionate freight rates had fm- Rolfi like a yoke of iroj monster ad killed Harran, had killed Broderson, had kill ooven. It had beggared Magnus and driven him to a state of semi-! after he {::d mc?d w the vain at- mp! o evil might come. It had entl Lyman into its to pluck from his 204 his hon- esty, corrupting him and yond redemption; it had Dm from his legitimate employment and made of him a highwayman and criminal. It had cast forth Mrs. Hooven to to death upon the city streets. It driven Minna to prostitution. It had siain Annzxu;‘nm very mg‘m'n.t‘a when pain- a; at acl ed his own salvation forth resolved to do right, to act 1ishly and to live for It had owed Hilma in the very dawn of her iness. It had killed th babe - e mother’s womb, life ere yet it had been born out the k ordained by God to burn through view, what contributed the to the greatest numbers? was the full round of the circle whose t only he beheld? In the end, the ul te, final end of all, what was left? Yes, good issued from this crisis, untouched, unas- sailable, undefiled. A foen STl ‘were shot down e hearts were broken, litle children started in life MM\‘ han ? ; young girls were Drought to & WEs of shame: old women in the heart of life for lack of food. In that little, i-olated up insect and an- eatest good ‘unassailable, ed, thmfl:nl l:gv A world-force, that nourisher o utfonl. in Nirvanic calm, indifferent to Muertos like a Tas to the Himalayas of lurvh}‘ scarecrows om plains of India. !Em dies; injustice and ap!n-hm of cvflzthh fade and vanish suffers,