The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 21, 1904, Page 14

14 " THE SAN FRANCISCO' SUNDAY CALL (Copyright, 1904, by Otho B. Senga.) HE privileges and possibilities of leap year were under discus- sion. “Jt is my opinion,” sald Paula, a judicial tone, “that woman ought be the proposer, and man the coining the word with posee.” ing assurance. d never dare,” sald one You wou ntingly prove it In fact, I'll propose, not but to seven.” her gave ut- men surrounding to despairing groans, and the g aughed e yably. she con- ctive tone, “that I become engaged this y mind,” In that case,” little Sawtelle began eagerly, “why not—" Consider you? That wouldn’t do at & I want the pleasure of making & that shall be original with my- ve some difficulty in choos- declared Hender- ‘proposee,” son gioom It gible men of my acquaintance have sed to me. I can think of several, one of whom I would be willing to 1 the circumstances were fa- hink r Oh not,” airi “not all the o Suppose the first one should accept,” suggested Dike Salter, dismally. ere will not be any ‘first.” There be seven simultaneous proposals, - by letter, and I shall be somewhere in hiding. The man who reaches my side first,” pausing as if to consider how to pile up the difficulties, “with a ring that ts my engagement finger, to him I'll art the man! leap year ball was in Tuileries, the Spinsters say, “Thou The Sp progress at being @ coterie of the richest soclety many of them buds In their first girls 1's anpouncement was 1 evenihg of gayety. ean it, Miss Pendle- Lom n earnest,” she re- my but I feel sa ce will not be discovered. ~Be careful lest you meet the fate of Genevra,” warned a grave voice some distance from th hing group. Did notice weth Carter?” whispered one of the girls. “He looked so scornful—and at you, Paula!” LRGSR LSS SIS 00GS 100 ONE MORN BIGSCLSTRRR y ‘Whitehead.) ,” said the girl n blue linen, as r K. M ncertainly 'd the A ( 1 do it just as said looking at her h frank boyish admiration t I 1y begi . hard not e little French cur- the open windows fairly shook. “I don’t believe you could hurt a flea, big, husky chap like me; er—I've got to get out of let Well, please sit down,” said the girl, motioning to a chair by the table, “and excuse me while I get ready.” In lements Her eyes were Gerard Wiison watched her every move with interest. had al- ready discovered that her dress and her eyes 7 the same color. “I thought I'd co he explained, “before crowded.” s dded her head. around early,” the place gets “I always do, too,” she said, then caught herseif suddenly. *I mean we like customers tu come ezrly beca it doesn’t pay to keep m down here, and yet when people do come in they all want to be.waited on 2 You must have t d,” said Wilson, rosy-tipped fin & “Yes,” said the girl, “although many girls envy me and do not believe that I work at all. My—my hours are long.” Wilson was dabbling his fingers in the scented water. 1 read something in the paper once about how you tly manicuring girls som; s marry into the rich fami- I expect you all want to come to these summer resorts.” “She bent lower over his hand and szid in a muflled voice: “Well, some of us don’t want to marry the sons of vich familiecs. We—er—know them too wek™ The man looked at her curiously. “I do not mind telling you,” he sald, “that I came here not so much t6 get my hands done as to find out some— cr—well, just how they'd do things @round here. You see, I am an Ili- work pretty looking at her e i “Did he?’ asked Paula, indifferently. “He always looks scornful—or bored; it seems to be his natural expression.” It was hardly a bored expression that rested on Kenneth Carter's dark face as he bent over Paula’'s white hand in courteous adieu. “You'd better take special notice of the size of my fingers,” sald the girl, mockingly. A dangerous light gleamed for an in- stant his dark eyes and the hot Southern blood flamed in his veins. “I prefer not to believe you in earn~ est,” he answered, guardedly. Paula’'s greatest charm for him wss an indescribable quality, a combination of purity and comradeship that robbed the most daring speech or act of all un- womanliness. “I hope she won't do that” he thought uneasily on his way home; “it's only a girlish prank, but—" The next evening as Cutter sat chat- ting with his invalid mother a note and a small package were brought to him. The note was but a line: “Now is the accepting time. Are you coming?” It was signed with Paula Pendleton's He read it hastily and sprang to his feet in angry dismay. Then he handed the note to his mother and ex- plained rapidly. “Are you going?” she asked hardly above her breath. “No,” he replied sternly. “I will not be a party to any such mockery of a thing that ought to be sacred. She is in name. doubtless amusing herself, as usual, and if there is a favored one among the seven he will know just where to look for her.” He turned sharply away, with chok- ing throat and hot, stinging eyeballs. You do care, Kenneth,” persi his mother, wistfully. “Yes,” he answered shortly, “I care. I care so much that I cannot tolerate the thought of her as a prize in a game of hide #ha seek.” “The package, Kenneth,” Mrs. Carter suggested inquiringly. He opened it quickly, gazing bewil- ered at its contents, a small, plain gold Fing. “What does it mean?”’ he asked con- fusedly. “I think it means that you are not A A TN G'S WOR the oaly one who cares. dc ring th “Ye She evidently 't intend you to fail for lack of a at fits. Now will you go?” he said quickly, “but I'll seek By Beatrice Finley born and bred in never eveh Chicago, but left college 1 struck fields in M ouri and ever since. You don’t when you are stuck there €p up with the styies eloping zinc mine: Have you struck it rich?” said the looking up at him with a laugh. ‘Well, we have a pretty good thing of it,” said Wilson. “But it don't mean so much to me as it does to Mr. Van Twiiler.” girl dropped her file, and it took both of them to find it in the folds of her pretty morning gown. Then she went to work again. . Van Twiller does not need any money—" iumph! A New York man never gets enough, and I understand he wants to buy a good old English title for & pretty daughter of his, and I suppose the biggest part of his money will go into the title.”. Her face was flushing now. not think Miss sale.” he man looked at her “Do you know her?” “Oh, ves, very well; she comes here very often.” Well, I haven't seen her yet. I came up on the late boat last night with Mr. Van Twiller, and between you and me, when we got up to that palace of his, and I saw people in the parlor and on the porch in evening party togs I got one of the best ready-to-wear head- aches you ever saw. I thought your summer boy wore white ducks or light flannels at these resorts, and that was 2ll I brought besides the business suit 1 wore, s0 I just wired back to town for & dress sult, and I bet it will be here by dinner time to-night or there will be something doing when I get back to that hotel in New York. I may have come out of the zinc mines, but 1 am not playing the ‘David Harum’ act before Van Twiller's crowd.” A shadow fell on the floor; a stout, smartly clad woman paused in the doorway. She almost gasped at sight of the couple at the table. “Oh, Miss—" The girl threw her a warning glance, but she could not stem the tide of apology. “I would not have this happen for the world!” The newcomer was visi- bly distressed. The girl looked up at h with calm, smiling eyes.. “I-do Van Twiller is for curiously. . “I do not believe you have done it better yourself.” He had swung around to face Mad- ame Laugeret, and, behind his back, the girl raised her finger to her .p in a, gesture of silence. “Very well,” sald madame in a voice which was not entirely steady, “as you please”; then she entered the curtained alcove, murmuring to herself: “B:t if any one should come in just now, la, la, what a scandal it would be!” could O S B G L I I S s i 555 SROSRLTLLSGS IO ROGRISSGS NGNS OSBRIt SERRORLG But no ene did come in, and the girl 1 on while the man told her of ggles to hold a property which sment, relie hip of boo ed only by the and of the modest hopes I do not care he said. like to travel a bit in Europe, to always have the books I wanted to read, the pictures I like best about me, gh money to keep the one in the world cumfy and happy.” ive you found the right woman vet?' “No.” Then he lcoked thoughtfully at her bowed head, crowned with soft brown hair. “I have never felt I had the right to look for her until now. 1 was never very strong on the love- in-the-cottage idea.” “Do you tl at Newport?” “Maybe. But—" Then he pulled himself up with a shake and hurled questions at her. Where would the Van Twillers prob- ably take him that day? What must he wear at the Casino? When did folks at Newport have time to sleep? And she told him everything, from the style of canvas shoes he had to buy at once to the number of courses and the wines he would have at the Lanson dinner, where he would prob- ably go with the Van Twillers that night, but at last his hands were fin- ished. Even the charmed Wilson could not claim that the girl was a rapld worker, The girl had handed his money to madame, and taking up her parasol, sald in a low voice: “I think my hands will bave to go this morning. We are having some people to breakfast.” She walked back to the little table, carrying her parasol behind her in one hand. ‘Wilson was looking curiously at his highly polished nails. He had never visited a manicuring shop be- fore. As she stopped beside him he plunged his hand in his pocket and drew out the emblem of Western pros- perity—a silver dollar. *“This is for yourself,” he said a$ he laid it on the table. “But I cannot repay you for all the good advice you gave me. I'd like to come back again If I get stuck,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I am afraid you would not find me, she said. “I don’t work here every day.” They were moving toward the door now. * “Are you going back to Mr. Twil- ler's now?"” He nodded his head. “Well, 0 am I, and If you like I'll you a lift.” . iive me a lift?” echoed Wilson. es, in my dog cart. I am Ida Van Twiller.” CGerald Wilson sat down very sud- denly and his hand struck the coin, He started back as if stung. nk you will find her here A il N S 3 E % g N N N N N A e ] Miss Van Twiller bent over and picked up the moncy. “1 want to keep th money 1 have r earned. You see madame ix the st in her line and whene' y maid becomes carel with my hands I come to her—early in the morning. Come, we wiil be late for breakfast.” PR She Keeps it on her dressing table now, a silver dollar, highly polished, with his initials on one side and hers on the other. And though she once declared that Ida Van Twiller was not for sale, her husband declares he won her with that dollar. vy R B B G S SO SO IS IO 000 006508 (Copyright, 1904, by K. M. Whitehead.) S AJOR DAVIS, paymaster, with headquarters at Fort Brady, was eating his supper at San Remo ranch, presided over by Apache Joe, one of the sleek- est, slickest Mexicans in all the West. The sergeant and the troopers of his escort were frying their bacon at a campfire outside, ‘While Jose, who waited on the officer, was away after the wine, the major received a sudden shock. The handsomest Mexican girl he had ever seen softly entered the room, a finger on her lips, and whis- pered: “Don’t drink the wine, senor—it will be poisoned! Don’t sleep in the house to-night. They come to rob and mur- der you.” She was gone before the son of Mars could reach out and grasp her sleeve or utter a word in reply. He had stopped at the ranch several times before and knew that the girl was a recent ar- rival. Jose was back with the wine a minute after the girl had disappeared, but the officer waved him away saylng: “It is kind of you, Jose, but not to- night. In the morning, perhaps, you may ask me to take a bottle along to Fort Reno and have the colonel sam- ple it with me.” 3 At 10 o'clock the major made excuse that he would rather sleep in his ambu- lance, which was provided with a cot, and at I1 all was quiet within and without the ranch. Within, however, the Mexican stood at onme of the rear windows peering out into the darkness waiting. Without, while all the escort except a single sentinel appeared to be sound asleep, every man's eyes were ooy N N A S S B A AN ARG B R R A RN N RSOGO SIS0 000G00500 5, vide open and.his carbine rested by his side, Al midnight to the minute Jose hted the candle and passed it back and forth across the window a dozen times, then, king his revolver from a shelf, he softly quit thé house, and after a walk of three hundred feet, he stood before six men crouched behind a glant cactu “They are asleep, the pigs!” he whis- pered. “and it wili need only one shot aplece to do for them. Come!" Five minutes later seven border out- laws crept down to within ten feet of the sleeping men. The sentinel stood as one in a daze. The outlaws crept another foot and the man on guard suddenly wheeled, firing his musket with deadly effect. His recumbent comrades sprang to their feet and poured in a volley which dropped three ruffians. The rest fled into the dark- ness with the fleetness of shadows, and it was hardly a minute later when the coatless, hatless and vestless Jose burst out of the fromt door of the ranch with the exclamation: “Who is it? What is {t? I am here to die with the,senor and his brave men!" “We won't ask you, Jose. to do any dying for us to-night,” grimly replied the major as he came forward. “In the morning, after we are gone, you may dig graves for those dead comrades of yours, if you want to oblige us.” “My comrades. senor? God forbid! T never saw one of them before, I permit ro bad men to hang about my place. The cursed dogs, to come eneaking ‘\imo'n you in the darkness to do mur- ers” The Mexican tried to throw the ring of truth into his words. but as he had a bullet hole in his ~hirt and could still feel the skin smart where the lead haa grazed it, he did not make much of a success. Even when he went over and kicked one of the dead men nobody asked to shake hands with him. The major ate his breakfast in the & it ¥ FOR LOVE OF THE MAJOR ¥ By Henry Colgate ranch house and sought to put Jose at his ease, his one objéct to get another sight of the girl whose warning had prevented a tragedy. For just five seconds she stood in the half-open door and smiled at him, but before he could thank her she was gone. This was the beginning of the major's “mash,” as his regiment choose to His wife had gone East, and he was wot the man to enter into a flirtation in her absence. Onee more he saw Pepita at the ranch as he rode on official business, and once she was found lingering around the fort as if to get speech with some one. Gossip filled in all the rest. It was a lonely, out-of-the-world post, and there had to be gossip about some one or some- thing. The major was guyed by his brother officers about the girl, and he knew that the rank and file were talk- ing, but he went his way ahd said nothing. They would not know that he had offered to send the girl East where his wife or his mother might provide for her. Then one autumn night, when the gossip was at its height, the sentinel at the gate suddenly called for the corporal of the guard. It was dark and gusty, with falls of rain at inter- vals, but he had caught sight of a figure skulking about. The corporal made a dash through the darkness and laid his hands on a human being—on a woman! It was Pepita! Near at hand was the pony on which she had covered a distance of twenty-eight miles in the last four heurs. “I want to see the Senor Davis,” she said as the corporal demanded her business. “Oh, that’'s the game, eh?” chuckled the man to himself and winked at the sentinel through the darkness. ““At once, if you piease.” “It's coming it pretty strong, little one, but it's not for me to interfere. Say, Pete, if we only had a paper to PAULA (THO B (ENGA Rer at her home as an honorable man should—not e!sewhere.” He returned in an hour, with disap- pointment unmis able In his face. His mother did not need to question him. “I saw three or four men who, I am r her,” he sald Van Horn with positive, were looking f in a slow, hard tone. his best pair, and little Sawtelle in his automobile 1 ner dance at Trumbu ght, and young Cocper and Dike me dashing out of there ju I passing.” “Are you sure s} n't at home?™ “It was her aid who came to 1 she would the docr. I not dececive she is little 1 and for ages?™ knew all The girl evi s of my search a very kind and “You'd better go home, Mr. Carter A faint flic fa . instantly repressed at the corners of Mrs. Car ‘But the s K she pere sisted. “Probably to raise my hopes and so make failure all the mere crushing,” he X “We w'll not speak of Httle mother, and T will say good-night now; I t to be alon “Before u go, ease bring me my embroidery he library table.” He pushed aside the portieres and entered the library. A slender, girl- ish figure stood before the grate and the dancing firelight fell in soft gleams upon her W e dress a a bright glow to a face pale with emo- tion. Kenneth gave a sharp cry and sprang f 1. “Is 1t you, Paula? 1Is ally you? Am I the e to find y “Did you f me, Ken- neth?” she ask It “Did I want to? Ol '- He held her to his breast in silence and then bent and kissed the sweet mouth upraised to his. It wi the an ement of the engagement that F laimed one d face, T, ful? Such an expre as that on the face of a newly 1 man is hardly fl ng to ee.” He T at night at the ball you re rea several whom you would be willing to marry.” “I did,” Paula returned promptly, “but you may recall that I sald also, ‘it all the ci stances were favor- able.” “I can’t see that that changes it any,” he argued ob ¥ deserve to be told, but because you are so stupid I'll have te explain absolutely essential circumstance was that I should love the And lest you continue making miserable nothing Iu confess right now that you were the only one to whom I sent a note. Even then I was so dreadfully afrald thas you wouldn’t come that I followed the note, and your mother ‘aided and abetted’ in a most shocking manner.” *“You do the man. yourself for % take this up, eh? Prominent officer mashed on a cussed good-looking Mt~ tle Greaser gal—rid~~ out to chin-chin with her—she rides back to return his call—love—romance—elc pement. Every thing here for a first-class novel.” “With death in it if you Insult me turther!” said Pepita, as she drew a dagger and menaced him. “A kitten with claws, eh? Put up that frog-sticker and come along with me.” The girl was conducted to Major Davis’ quarters and remained for hale an hour. Then e rode away. She was hardly outside the gate when a silent alarm breught the men out of barracks to fall in. A quarter of an hour later th had manned the de- fenses and were waiting for Red Cloud and his six hundred warriors to attack. When the rush was made the famous chief was beaten for the first time in his life, and there were only 435 warriors to escort him back to his vililage. Had ne come an hour earlfer not a man or woman In Fort Brady would have escaped the tomahawk. “It was the little Mexican gal that gave the reds away,” explained soldier to soldier. And the tongue of gossip was silent. In the morning, when the soldiers pushed out here and there to gather up the sulky wounded and the silent dead, two of them cs S a sight that was not pleasa a t to see. They coversd the figure, beautiful even in death, in tender but soldierly arried » Major Davis’ ithdrew and left those two alone, e ifor: an, with the peaceful sr ozen on her lips. The man bent over and kissed those lips—for the first time, “For me it was not worth this great sacrifice, dear child. But for my men, and their wives and their chfidren, it was well done!™ the tall, f: