The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 3, 1906, Page 4

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL WATCHING BIG MEN PLAY T Have you won the rubber in the same of life as you are playing it? { if you have you may remember what it the badly few, if you haven't ve run been u e know how greeable it is to feel e in whether victory or failure last T ds. much of its amuse- men play the rub- a ts to little else ceounts of lost, the rs, like ance, taking more ing than the storiés Much of the news n is current history— test playvs made by meén the rubber to win f it that way? Look this morning's 't so. Roosévelt biggest games s news value things he or an 1 does. Roos. slaying his rubber as s stiil young enough ontest and yet win game. Grover Cleve- the presidency not ex- hat since won respact m more people than have most any man after leaping jency recent nutional his- ewey won hig rubber when he Manila bay te ave of the w preeent nit er of finance and deciding games fill a book. The 4. who com- cific. whose real yed after middle nce so badly de-| fe e he was Afty that he - £ wn and out permanent- | nake thrilling chapter game between James J. Hill | | marck that the State should own all| telegraphs, etc., and it was Witte who created the Russian Government mon- opelies of the tmdf ih alc!m-i{:: g:‘{,:kl 8 't . vet | and tebacco. Should he win er Lawson hasn't won his ru?bel yet this time he muy rénew the proposi- apparently, though F. Augustus Heinze, ) . s e hi for seemed recently | tion he put forward some years ago to B O e L e 3 V| establish the price of wheat by inter- to have done so by making peace with national treaty. A e T . SDIOV‘M’- Robert E. !;ear)' now in the far whelmingly, 3 ago, by plaving . . e partners with John D. Rockefeller, that | portlh '(i)n h;‘s‘quv;:;l: ?::l.;fl:;::fl;?:l; to-day it ism't thought he could pos-|is playing his ru 5 sibly lose the advantage he Has gained.|entirely different nature. The struggle of Stuyvesant Fish with| No one has so persistently sought the insurance problem is practically in | the secrots of the north us P;:ry,mqtln_t the nature of a game for the rubber |the list of n;evrl\i‘lm ha;/els_(a, dnd ol The struggle of no othér man in thé |all on the ;A ‘“clgxm;eu?_ on!{':“s ® world to win the rubber in the game o!,hi“_lfi;lsl o helr futile life is attracting =0 much attention to- | Pat c. day as that which ic beltk cafried on i i:"rl?::‘!lefnllmz‘l;g:s“:k’l":r: )t::: by Sergius Witte, the Dutch-Russian 4 W45 e rallroad man, Government officiai ana |taken meén of some expérience of the peace commissioner. whom lh«. Czar | Aretie fce, theé An:m_» water anc‘s lht imade aCountas well as Premier to|Arctic. weatheér With them, almos rard him for concluding the Ports- t)evsryb one of the esg;;lorekra thnmnfi:‘v;; outh treaty with Japan, yet whose |has been a man who knew no game is opposed at every point by some |t all about the nortr prior to his of the ablest and most of the high- |first “dash for the pole. born people in all Ruseta. No mah in| peary, though positively sgreen in the world is plaving for higher stakes | Arctic' mattérs when he begen to tackle than Witte. | the morth's icy fastnbsses; is nOW a It is the belief of a gobd part of the [man of greater Arctic experience than world that in wininng the rubber |any other Arctic explorer who ever Count Witte would also Win new privi- | lived. H,ls first téconnoisgance of leges and noteworthy advahcement for | Greemlang's fcy cap was undertaken the whole of Russia; it niay or may nonlWen;(y {e;\n‘r: tu|go. u.‘r::! h:tah:t?cdle‘\y'o:c_g turn out that way. Undoubtedly the | much o s time 1 ally Count would like to =es all his tellow- | OF his initiative 1o the north ever. since. l’,u!u’a‘ns :n cnm(orla'bl(;‘ and h;pm" as |1n o‘ne umnse. ;;;u.h:\; h;i;:“:l‘:n:e;‘t”nn' posgible, but some of those who have ning game, hav d J studied his course carsfully de not |figure of world interest. Which he could think it harsh to say that he cares|mnot have done as a civil engineer in more for final personal success and the | the United States navy. preservation of the autocracy than for| In 1902, when he returned from his anything else, nor doh n:'ey forgét that :‘bur ye"u-a' \':rn‘[a;thel::nm:;\red ‘th:t before the war with Japan he was he would make no further attempts to often ranged upen the side of retro- |conguer the pole, but the fascination gression. of the game has proved too strong for It Witte does win the rubber it will | Bim. l’ol'ihlfl)' he lls now fated mhl::e & 'k 3 aving i, s s0 many 3 o e “:"1“"":( “"‘{:Solr]:'hl:)m'.’ mlousgh his friends belleve other things, Witte agrees with Ble: |he Will win. Peary rounded the Grecn- |1and archipslago, proving Greenlind to and E. H. Harriman, not vet finally played out perhaps, would make an- other. rs Cape Morrfs K. Jesup to the most northerly known bit -of land in. the world, en his last voyagé, but he will have to do better than that towin the prize he has been striving for/so long. Tne only great game of exploration left in all the world is to be found in the two polar zones, but in the-years it was being plaved Henry M. Stanley’s bulked largér in the eyd of the world thati the game of any ohe playing fof lessdr stakes thah~ aominion section of the A :y%a millione of hum: - Bt game '‘finally approached . .these tf it he began to play it, 48 ordered, as a nswspdper réporter in 1869. Stanley’s life was one of the most romantic ever lived by mortal man. His ofigin was obscure. When fifteen he shipped 45 a cabin boy on a Schooher bound for New Orleans. When the elvil war broke ant this plece of human Rotsam was Just about twenty-pne. He enfisted pri y, 6n the Confed- erate side; of ge, served till eap- tured by the edérals, and thenm, not belng very particular whose game it was, $0 long as he wak playing, en- listed In thé Unlon navy, in which he rose to be acting ensign on the iron- clad Ticopderogs. Aftér the war's close he became a newspaper correspondent and went to Asip Minor. Bennett liked his work in Asis Minor, and sent him to Africa to report the expedition led by Lord Napier against Theodore, King of Abys- ginia. Stanley did $o well at this job that Bennett decided he was the man to be intrusted with the difficult mis- sion he hed in mind of fAnding the missionary Dr. David Livingstone, who nad then been “lost” for years in mid- Africa. That was in 1871, and though the elder Bénnett did not die till the fol- lowing year, it was the younger who commissioned Stanley from Paris. Livingstosé died in- Aftica without | discovering the souyrce of the White Nile; Stanley finished that part of Live the public utllities, like = railroads, |be an lIsland, and give the mame of ingetone’s work. He was the roughest From - Page Three, office and had a %. He sent some | 4 them without 2 ympanied by & - . led himself, e aloons, or hand- | : intances. The 2 i to be full of thel ; aughan R H. 8.| ¥ = M. & F. G 8, 3 x £ 4 not ih ‘the nature of things & rewsrded. “Within a short T fFuit In and unex- e ays CHAPTER XVI bbit Hit.” The §. ¥ » say. the Sazéras Lying Chib, Tk D L. held a spe- e g ‘1o vonsider:the - Reverend C Vaug As Barker had fore- - sure to.happen, sooner or 3 of the objects atigable secre- e Cham- 3 t to be ad been a young ving Vaughan doubt.” But m. “He ought he goes any far- erdict. * the ng safl! Lectured at Pal tonight he's going to b Bob Royal 1 te Shed had bee in y on the strengin of his Poole was whet was knowr Barker was the best In - the cluk ho merited dist eir prominence va - « Only the best sh £ ®o, on to catch a continued Shed, who| quotin, this authority, "t w..-:w such a public “Well, after he got through niarryin®}would have struck him as much more di thege parts since &he can re. (and unmarryvin’, he got religion.” |strable than the equipment of the ranch- member, and she don’t know ag ever.” | “D! Religion?" shouted = half- a|man's gaudy home on Richmond Hill. 1t | She's been waught by his titles,” re- | dosen. |was with no discrimination against his | Plied Pooke “I'm givin' it to you straight” Shed |OWn poverty in compdrison with the oth-| Borker was for writing 1o the various | deciared. ~You &o over to the Methodist | °F'S Wealth,' but quite the reverse that he R Socl questing information | chur Sundays, you'll see him regular | Welcomed the . cattle 'mnsm)_te. e in- vegarding “the said Clement Vaughan' as the day comes 'round. Well, lnt\“t“““.‘.1 lnrMMry. “elln‘l’a.x and. for. Tom and Barker's ventures in forelgn correspond- | week 1 was ridin’ sloug, and off in me‘.' e lmlc’x :\nd.ftnli)l(e of church matters, ence had always brought him large re-[injddle of a pasture. I see Dick sittin’ ‘°," ““,' afairs of the town and looked at e . Would to confront|pis- bronc, sayin' nothin'. - Once 1 2 | Mhgoors of the boys 6t the 8. L. C.* Shed e e \;:m‘ g .;)b-l-amk." while lie'd give tie critter & olip OF & |pogan ner\':msl:,') :myl:" his ”bu;xdlleq | 3 D aoe Wil 0, sald | g vith a spur, and up would go the -‘(hought ‘twould be a good joke:to pai § N Wilkins, arriviig opportunely, DrONC'S heels. That's as far as they'd | you this—on—on account of your titles, amoved that Baiker be - empowered 16|01, : 5 ) | you Xnow. They thouzht you were tryin' Srilie buch Aidhers The Diblion whe Oarr] Hullo, Dick’ says I, “What's thé to fool 'em. They took it-as'a kind of a | ried, But Poole was for immediate action, | (rouble? He kirder laughed “the way \stump” ° - ¢ “ “He's played us for a ot of suckers,” re- | 2¢ 0es, a-liumpin’ his shoulders. ‘Par- #hed perspired fredly dnd grew very peated Pox ‘o be plaved for 4 suck. | 50m's cut off my swear? savs he, ‘an’ 1 red. With the most ncongfuous solemni- ot ¢ what no man In Bureks would An't worth a—h—m-—to maké this h—m |ty hé handed over the medal. With cor+ end jeast of all Poole. He was ex-{h—m 80'! says he ' * ve got to get responding gravity Vaughan received it. tremely sensitive when hie inteiligence @cquaintéd all over,’ says he. “Phe { There was an ominpus pause, X was impugned pronc thinks 1 don't mean a h—m word | Fin&lly Vaughan laid the thing on his/ “jt don't stand to reason that & féller|1 say. Well, sir, that afternoon he |93k 3 B R twenty-t o cars ofd van he a|went in to see the parson and back he | -¥OU Know it's considereq a great com- member big societies,” =mid | s lied big; the big- | If we don't do.as ht as welldisband.” | ing continued irresolute. | the medal would doubt- 1 on the table had not rént, happened in. | iree, rd of the lecturer’s i of Mrs. Chishobn’s share in | smiléd when he heard of the| sdid Poole, “these feliers ¢ thing lie over ull Barke ngland and got .an answer rned Winslow. isturd th agel ¢ man now. B » time Barker hos received an @n- swer to his letters (he lecture season ‘wilt be over.’ Peole fittered an impatient sjaculation. Jat’s just the way this -club always | acts,” he said d'scontentedly. “Wait "tili » & thing is cold, 2nd ten what good is 1t7" He gave Pileher a kick under the tabl 3 meant ¥ something, won't you an v e me do ali the talking" thing lke this wants to bé done| said Pifcher taniely. | ‘ouni men came noisily in, | het was up?’' To ‘these| ect appedled with peeuliar force. | flied to Poole’s support and voted, | amd zeal, to “put 1t throvgh™ medal of significant izn snd properly nscribed shouid be | nted to the Rev. Clement Vaughai e argument ensucd as o what ant design and how tie in- | seciption should read, but these matters| 9 # commitice coneisting | le 3nd a2 man named Joros. tlarker, anyway? Gone to write his lctters, some one an-j Why e votpd |tet the Purton down easy.” | swearing was commendable, when super,. = THE SAGEBRUSH PARSON = dered the box and started for the par- son's study. ' There wds no oné there. -The door stood ajar, .as_if to lét-in- some of the faint’ autumnal sunshine, in lleu of other hieat. Vaughan was saving his fuel lfor the extreme weather promised’ fater. For the . Sunday services and the mid-week meetinig he kindled a fire in.one of the big black stoves near the doar. the corner where it stood was discour- agingly remote. The study partook but little of its bene! the bedroom, “I move that “Leét him go,” said Poole. Shed pre “Sav, Bhed esents the meédel.” look-a-herve, 1 kick!" exclaimed “The Parson's a friend of miine. | ily go to his church. I won't mix.| such business!” proposed as a substitute. it in,” mused. Bhed. *I'd Aloud he added, “Well, I'll do it pro- vided that you put me on the other com- mittee. 1 want to see your blamed old medal before 1 deliver 1t.” The proposition was accepted. Bvery X one was tired of the discussion and im- still farther awa was " beyond hope. pationt for the informal hour which fol- | From the Patutis who had. encamped jowed tie routine business, the hour when i on -the “hifll ‘behind the church he ob- ‘tained a pair of heavy blankets for his bed and did not suffer at night. During the day, when he studied and-wrote, he broke.-away from his desk every !and then, to walk up and - down and swing his arms. Shed slowly whirled himself around in | the office chair and made inward comn- | ments: “Colder'n charity!” “‘Darkér'n the grave! *“Not a damn dvicture in"the place! | Shed’s big, liandsome house was full {of pictures, warm as summer, and there were plants in the windows and a canary. “It beats Hanah.Cook! all the members smoked while one told a story. He it was who ‘‘set up the drinks,” thereby insuring the appreciative | atmosphere 8o necessaty to the:racornteur. 1t was Shed Wellman's turn that night. When the rest of the conipany were es- | tablished, with their glasses. and ' thair] pipes, he began, a little hurriedly -for a man at ease with himeelf and them. I'm gaoin' to - tell you a true and T'll bet you'll sav when I get, through it's as good as:a He: i “Don’t you fool yoursei Not by a damn sight!” till 1. get through before \'Ou; Shed went on. “You'll think it's! This was the final word with Shed. anyway.” When a thing beat’ Hannah Cook there This sounded more promising. & Purt!gas no more to be said. of approbation ran through the rom-| «py gum, il take the darnéd thing pany. “Git at 1t™ they ridd, back,” he said to hinisélf, “and tell the You know Dick,” pursued the story- poys I won't de it. But Poole would jump teiter. at the chance, and 1 beliéve Winslow C queried. would, Hulls, there he comes)” “Yes, about him.” Vaughan - entered eagerly. He was full “He's the feler that got doped,” sald of confidence, these ddys. Wherever he| one | had lectured people had beén kind to him. | *No, married,” sald another. The attendance had been good at the| said | ohurch servites and there hdd beem so- | hey're both the same thing, third ‘Go- o, Shed,” called the rest “He's been actin’ as foreman on iny ranch, as some. of you know.—You keep still ¢l I get through®—And ever since | he come there my Wwife wouldn't go near{ the fanch for fear she'd overhear some . miery day the young preacher felt thet of his remarks. Best man I ever see 10 ;g grew nearer to his folowers and that ap or throw a yope! Did itithey drew nearer to him. He did not knpw words. If any of you ever !{t was cold and dark in the study. Nor Shed paused. {did he ‘hold the absence of ornament a e seen him,” sald ofie. |lack, as did his visitor. The austerity of ‘Heard him,” corrected another. { his surroundings, if he had considered it, 1who a#sired to drink and dance, hut offer- fng attractions of their own. Jack had made lemonade, Without a “stick,” a bar- 8 | { denationj and thers had been songs and games. G ohml pliment 'round here to be called 4 good e S vy |llar.” Shed tried to speak lightly. You parailelipipedon’ he vells. “You |''®! ik isosceles triangle? -and thit bronc it out | yec oo iy esmerasned, die parson with @ 1t of the eyebrow: like the devil was after Him! ‘What's|gure fiest. that I'd lied. -Why didn’t they" that wmean, Dick? says I ‘Db _you|yrite to England-ind aséértain whether I ° know? ‘Keep.still’ sayi We, ‘I don't|had a right to taese—titles - " “They have, At least Barker ‘Wwas. going {to,” Shed made haste to rejoin. ‘‘But they | eouldn't- wait.” . A < ¥ “I see,” sald Vaughan, again taking up “'the medal dnd pitting it back into the | box. “T'll defer my acknowledgments until, they've heard." 2 b “And so I come away feel blam-jam idiot!”" Shed declared to Pllcher, who mhe found alone in the store & few. minutes later. ‘“‘Where's Poole?" “Gone .ou - 5 ““Well,. you -tell him- when he contes in, with my complimente, that he's made an ass of himself,” u message promptly de- livered by Piicher. . 'Oh, ke did say I was an ass, did he!” rejolned Poole. TR “Now, don't get mad,’* sald Pilcher, “1 am mad,” said Poole, and fe grew madder, sot with Shed, singularly enough, but with the parson, 4 < fluous. what it implied on the part of the| “I've wanted to Smash his fice éver swearer, wherein amd how far it shoufd | since he come 1o Eurekd,” he confessed to be resented hy the one sworp at. After- | Plicher; and Piicher looked, as he feit, | wards théy disbanded, promising to | Sympathetic. * He, too, was unprepared, by mest 2t Poole and Pileher's the next |temperament and education, to resist an aay; end seisct o design for the medal. | Impulse-of this kind. 5 It was grotesque enough to satity the | N “;;' l;"“"“::mm e "::" on his most exacting, big as | way e pos! ve, as was <custom, ey N | that afternoon, Pllcher: was o the “To the Rev. Ciemant V: . steps and accosted him. “Why don’t you BA T TAS PR ;"‘f‘g_f“,'.' g. 2| call in, some time when you're goln’ by?" M. V. L, champion liar. he"xm:wlrgd r::,‘;:;y'v'.“.hm who _always P{v’):)ema:::; f;,z: m}“fiflm’; C:::;Melv“ mst friendly advances at least halfway. sick over it Shed looked glum. 108 | supees e oy WP XvY ok, E . Jcher. the sort «f thisg- that's dreadful funny sulyein T 2 “1f i's not too late 1 will," pr ml-ad. on the other feller,” Jie suid, as e shoul- | Vaughan. When ke returned l?eu!oun‘n know, but neithér do#s the bronc. thiriks I'm ‘cussih’. . -Parsan got the words out-of the dictionary.’ There was a lot more, but I van’t remember 'em all. Hy-potty-noose was ome of ‘em!"” ¢ The story-teller paused for recognition. Ned Wilkins {aughed _ appreciatively. Those who had.confidence In Ned's abi ily to see the point laughed with him. Winslow. sariled indulgently. Those to whom he was an oracle meagured their response by Jiis. : 1 do@’t suppose it makes gny difference what words You use if your Intentions are good,' said Barker, who had posted his Jetters and returaed. This.léd to a diseussion as to what éx- pletives were inevitably - “cuss words,” what weré the. several ‘grades and de- grees of. blasphemous expression, when He But | now | clabjes,. not yielding concessions te those | ,, relful each time, ad had offered it as his: | Poule under the chin. ing like e | ‘| Poole faintly. | Pilcher ‘&till on thie steps, and together | | they eéntered the store. 3 Poole was leaning over the counter, “Been takin’ a little exercise, Pilcher and | me,” he vouchsafed. ““This sort o' weather | | you wanter keep your blood circulatin’,” *‘Very true,’”’ agreed the visitor: “What |were you doing? I'd like some exercise | myself.’” | parring,” replied Poole nonchalantly. | “Ever had on the gloves He led the way |to the inner- room. It was larggr than the store and empty, save for some rough | settees pushed back against the board | walls. - There were two windows in the {rear, but they gave very little light. An- rother building, a storehouse, had been |erected within three feet of Poole and | Pilcher's since their occupancy of the | place. Already, in the early October dusk, the room required the light of two great wk.nlmune lamps set into brackets on the |- wall. 2 He closed the glass door and the tran- som-window heside it. Two pairs of box- ing gloves.lay on one of the settees. Poole | picked - thém up and handed one pair to | Vaughan, who fingered them irresolutely. | *I suppose my people would object,” he said, hesitating; but he slipped on first one glove, and then other. ~Poole was already equipped. He tapped the parson: on the chest. Involuntarily Vaughan responded. | Pilcher drew aside. Outside, in the store, {a boy, who had come on an errand, caught | sight of the two shadows bobbing up and {down. on the transom and cautlously re- opened- It. Another boy joined him, then |a mah. Although facing them, Vaughan did not see them; he saw-only his antag- | onist. More and more active grew Poole, more - and more severe his blows, following one another n rapid succession. They de- scended with malicious force: on the head and shoulders of the young Methodist. He was driven into oné corner and then he other, poundeéd to and fro. He leaped wildly about, consclous, now, of the look- ers-on and of the ludicrous spectacle he | afforded them. The boys hanging over the transom howled with delight, The man who had joined them guffawed.| | Other meén ruslied in. They climbed.on chairs, elbowing one another. -The: tran- | som was filled with their gaping, grinning | faces. They shouted approval, encourage- ment, derision. Vaughan's heart sweiled. | Anget rose like stéam in_him. With it| returned the memory of Frank Henley's | instructions. Up went his gloved hands, | pawing tii¢ air. Poole backed and parried and backed agdin, until he reachéd the | glass door. On came the Methodist, like a whirlwind, his eyes bluzing, his lips tense, All ‘at once his fist shot out, catching Heels over head ‘went the storékeaper, crashing through | the window in the door. Shouts of appréciation issued from the group of men and boys in the store. They jumped down fram the transoni and sur- rounded the prostrate Poole. *‘Good one!" they cried. “Hi, vi, yi!" Vaughan pulled off his gloves and as- sisted - his. adversary to his. feet: Theé blood was streaming down Poole’s face where he had been cut by the broken gluss. “Bring a basin of watér and a clean cloth,” Vaughan dirécted. *‘There's one cvut which will need a few stitches,” he sald to Poole; “I'll sew it up, unless you'd rather send for Addison.” “‘Addison’s full,”" reported one of the bystandars. Ppole winked away the blood which trickled inte his eye. Pllcher by this timé "had brought the water. Vaughan -gently ‘sponged the hurt. ‘“Yes, it will take three or four stitches,” he said after examining the wound. : “Go ahead,” said Poole, grimly. Vaughan toak from his pocket a small surgeon's- case and immediately went to work. The crowvd looked on, well pleased. *‘He's sure markin' ye, Poale,’” 8aid one. “The Reverend Clement Vaughan,” said another. | F. R. A. §." supplement- ed a third. e “F. 8. P.—Fellér what Smashed Poole.” Poole did not flingh under the needle or the wit. The surgeon continued, sew up. the cut, applied strips of plaster a stood back to admire his work. z ‘I don’t belleve Addison himself could have done any better than that!" he said complacently. i show's over,” conchidéd the by- inquired standers and moved away: parson?"” “What's the tax, g!" exclaimed’ See here, parson,” he swallowed ha may as well tell you. That was a job. I meant to smash you.” ““Then we're quits,”, coloring, “‘for—I meant to smash Poole thrust out his hand. Tne parson grasped it, Y Pilcher stared. But even when he was. dlone with his partmer -he made 1o allu- | sion to the occurrences of that afternoon. | e CHAPTER XVII. a3 s The Hum?“nj of Martin Young.. Martin Young was out of gorts. The |- but” Martin. glanced neither to the right wp{ “I sill,” sald Pere Hyacinthe. He was p | B! PUUP | fhe the parson, | _ Not long of rough dlamonds. when he started a.ter Livingstone, but picked up won- | derfully in the matter of polish after Livingstone huz%nn “found, and a dozen years befors his death, two years ago, married Dorothy. ' Tennant, then the most popular and one of the most b '\mt_ul’yeun‘ women in London so- e was also elected to, the House of Cohimohs atter lively contest, but ;!’\_d "\fa&gld&q&u!%q. of his life was R G ca. w ides nley ai Livifigstone have p )"tdn the most l;- porti parts of their life games. Chi- nese Gordon played there and lost; so did Bmin Pasha, both being killéed by natives who gbjected to being civilized. It wis in Africa that Cecil Rhodes, whose patronymic has Bésn perpetu- ated by the application of the name Rhodesla to g Breat section df the Brit- ish South African possessions, played his great game, Winhing for the most part, though net unqualifiedly." It whs in Africa, and largely through Rhodes that the Boers lost the rubber in their game for g national lifé of their own, as Kitchener won his in de- feating them after others -had failed. Whatever defeats Kitchenér might suffer now, lilg victorigs in South Africa madé his placé in the gnnals of his country sécure; had he falled, the fame his earller achlevements gave him wauld have been siidly dimmed. Many of the world's most famous poéts, novelists, sculptors and painters Have had to strugglé despérately in the game of 1ife before winning as- sufed position, and in some cases their struggles have been so long and so desperate as to niake théem lose well- nigh all hope before the fipal winning. To nét a few this did not come till after death. The story of Jean Francois Millet, the Frenth peasant, who struggled with poverty all his life,. but whose little canvas “The Angelus" sold for Inore money a few years alter his . time” for the rest of His life. I Ho had supposed himself s sound e : the years the publis! I‘“‘V'i’l:i ous ma.!'ubee: gu:‘:m;; and it | stitL pelieved. that ha@ ‘hfs directions b foltlowed “strictly. 1n-its conduct déath than he had been able to earn in all his years of life, is an extreme example of deferred recognition, the like of which coulda hardly vome true in tife case of uny one save a painter % U Seulotor, : Teriare eould never have come to it. “Jane Eyre” was the card which en- o "o, 45 it may. he found one day abléd Charlotte Bronte fo win her i o/ "o "on1y “chance ta rehabilitate RIS oA wiltonvane T e s | hin fortulies | wis.-{a write saough 3:::1 S Sisners, to Wil 1t Wes af-|TeaDie Mt RS Sooy hriongl 2 gas fared. | Canan, Diayle, whoge Hheriock | cnoush Nark Fesie bttt oag Holmes stories alone have made him "0, 00 4 gyef a ccmfortable fortune, had a hard time . .. azine con- e - 3 * W48 way; so many of théms in s would 1 v clally that he told a friend he had :;r:“n:ieot::: matter. 11 health came ¢ither to win or starve, l',‘dm"‘vlm”f soon, however, and made the years im- just them he was “mostly Starving' |mediately following yeirs of genuing f’g:\:’&dflft"“:;"‘”,{:fi:"& the #uthot of |ordeal. years for which. thie w;arl:(o: AP v RE¥ o ly be thankful ta huy. the manusevipt for & long time: (FWders - Bay proPer N buddahesd finally sit was published with over- ol "l il Voo vor Abroad,” “Joam whelfing success, but not till after| oy p.h yng several other pleces of the author's death from consumption. pe it past work to the world: Samuel M. Clemens had a fright’y |* s way the task Has been accom- time getting any one to publish N8| igpeq; it is years néw since Mark “Innocents Abroad.” vainly offering the mo " oe known s, Woeld to manuscript to practically afl the repu- | "ETL NG Tl e by paying every- table New York pubfishers in turn and | i 10 0 wed and the fact that he at last accepting the offer of a sub- yaq j, H. Rogers for a heipful frisnd seription book company, made by the|,.o naver been laid wp aZainst Him 3'}'12‘-,’.5.1"0':" [flie face of thd adverst|eves by the rabidest. hatets of Uhe 3 rd OiL roctors. This book pald- him - $100.000 3':‘\"“,‘:‘:,“; (i ar Cleidns seve- net; at thirty-six he:thought he had|g,yg 48 the mah who. more than any Jon, L TRDEAR. Jo_IRER WAN. (he) 00 SR AL Gelbtal. SRGAL: ta. SN T Sl Sk R (hea ana. T | U S R ok ke oy 5 | after the disasters which followed the years dfterward, but hg hadn't. | rise of the Appomatox hero's name in “Mark Twain” had to begin to play | furthering the get-rich-quick schemes his real rubber at abeut fifty, in the | deviséd by Ferdinand Ward. Yet It early nineties, -when his publishing was the firm of Charles L. Weabster & house. of Charles L. Webster &: Co. Ce. that Lp_,ummmi Grant's book :ml went down. Till then he had experi- paid to Grant's widow more than énced all sorts of luck exrept bad fuck §400,000 in royaltiss. for many -years; though net a mil- It may . be worth noting that no llohaire he was -surely good for half famous writer in the game of life has a million, and was preparing to settle ever been dismayed by 4 run of hard down in London and “have a gobd luck 18l troudle ‘in gettting a e Hernleys saw- that plainfy when he passed the house; with a drove of cattle, on his way to Eureka.. He was-on hordeback | ‘and so were the twomen with him. They | lifted - their sombreros as. they passed. hand for the left. | “He's been like a bear with a sore head | ever since matters were settled between | Minsle and WIIL” said Frank. | “I should have liked to send some mes- | sagé to Clemont,” ‘sighed Mary. | . _“You'd betfer fot .mestion Clement's name to Iim,” said Frank. “‘He thinks Clement was at tiie bottom of his trouoie with Minnie.” “How could he be?”® crisd Mary indig- nantly. | “Oh, She asked his advice or something of the sort. Minnie's a nice girl, but she's 2 fopl,” said Frank, The cattie. ran lowing. down the hills. The splendid October air was in their| nostrils. ‘A thin crisp of snow was under their feet. Martin, being in haste to get | them down to BEureka before more snow should come ‘to block the way, took ad-| vantage of théir -high spirits and fine phy- sical’ condition, and by noon had reached | the field outside: the town where Shed Wellman was to meet him. “I suppose yowll stay over Sunday?"| said ‘Shed, when their business had been concluded. 3 °T'd cale’lated to,” returned Young. “Better drop in and hedr our new min- ister,” suggested Sned. ““By the way, he's a friend of yours, ain’t he? - He told me| he knew you—got a horse frem you up at| Galena.™ Martin grunted. *Mighty ‘smart young feller!’” comment- | ed Shed. “Awfully popular around here. | Goes In for everything, has fine sociables —~Jack makes the lemonade for ‘em-—a barrelful every time.” *There'd have to bs a barrelful if Jack made it.”” Martin grinned. for the first time. S | *He don’t put anything in" Shed made | haste to add. < “Don’t he?° -cried Martin, *‘Wanter | bet?' 3 : 5 | *J know he don t” insisted 8hed. guess I've drilnk enough of it. See here."? he turned before mounting his horse. | *You don't wanter circulate any gossip of that sort 'round here. It might make trouble.” 'He swung himself into the sad- dle and rode away. There was an evil look in" Martin's small, reddish-brown eyes as he, too, mounted and rode after Shed. 3 . He went straight to the Widolr McClin- tock’s boarding-house and the very first thing he said to.the tablefut of boarders was, “I hear Jack Perry’s makin’ the lem- onade for the Methodist. sociables and that's why,” with a grimace, “they draw such a crowd.” : “Hé don't put in any ‘budge,’ said an honest-faced young minér. - “Parson wouldn't allow it. “Don’t ‘ha too sure o' that!" eried the | widow, with a toss of her head. “The paréon ain't so all-fired different | from other folki she declared, \ with acidity, She ha ot forgivén Vaughan for his sympathy with the attempt to pull Diek out of the' McClintock trap. ““That's just as sure's you live,” déclared Martin Young. “‘You wanter look out for théde fellers that don't smoke, nor chew, nor drink, nor swear, nor shave—"" ° “Hé¢ can fight,” broke In the hénest-| faced miner. “He give Poole tie kock- | out t'othér day. Didn't he, Jim?" He np-l pealed to a comrade who sat near him. “That's what he did, Joe,” " sald Jim. “We s him.” = Then Martin had to hear the: whole story... Everywhere he went he héard it. Bverywhere he went they spoke of the parson approvingly, admiringly, even. Martin sic..ehed. “If you knew him as well's T d0," he exclaimed. “What do you know?" they asked him. He could only bluster in generalitiés. If he told them about Black Birdie they ,would say the Parson was smarter than he was. If he told them about Minnie Hollaway tehy would say a fellow de- served to ‘lose his -girl if he couldn't hold her. “You wai days,” he v you'll see, ed si one of these repeated, “T hedr Jack's n' lemonade for the Parson’s sgciables, and that's why drifted around to Jack. “If Mart Youhg comes in while I'm gone, you hang onto him," he said to Pergs Hyacinthé, “I've ot somethin’ to say to him. I'm goin’ meetin’ now.” Jack rarvely missed a Sunday night seryice. rranging -the tumblers in pyra -flr Bahtia fhie ber. . oy after Jack went out Martin : ed. He had found thrée miners who expressed their willingness to “'set The four clumped noialy in and entered ne of* the tooms, throwing their B:t( on t) 8 A'&? k of cards lay gm table. Martin ein up dnd shuffled them, ng lot for Pere Hyac )tl'!ht to “b_'fl. .miuu mi:lhmre."ml in 4l X, enough, mn«rfimdvm flm«t ping | Martin would forget his order. One of | “what in hell's that card to do with our | High Tippy Bob Royal! | Jack slowly. - ificantly, and again |. to stare and guestlon. What was it? A . What was he deing? Why did be do 1t? They saw the revolver. and Jack, and drew back. On and on Martin erawled, up the hill, painfully, his hands eut by the frozen ground, his head heavy, his heart faint; and behind Aim, with the revelvér—Jack. So they cameé to the church, to the door of the study. Martin man? paused. “Go on,” called Jack’s voice. He went good-looking fellow, very. trim. in his Sunday togs, arese sud- [ denly and -flung down his_cards. “It's on me again,” he -said, with a _consclous laugh. “I didn’t think I'd get stuck again 80 soon." “What's the row?" démanded Martin, | pleking np- the hand and running it over. “Oh—that?” Ineffable contempt was ex- pressed in his: volee” and n his manner as he threw -across the room. the card which had Interrupted the game. It was| baicked like the others, but on its face it Dore an invitation to attend the services at the Methodist church that evening. “Come, set down,” he said to the miner; | i on. che, mingrs, & falk Vaughan was reading by his desk, un- der the lamp, Absorbed in his beok, he heard nothing. Slowly the deor was pushed open. A rough, red-brown head appeared and approached him, hanging down. Two hands, crimsoned and bleed- ing, struck out over the floor. The creat- ure crawled to him, put out a big swellen tongue, licked his hoot, mumbled. “I'm a damn liar,” then sprang up and fled. A long, sinewy arm reached out, on the threshold, caught him, shook him, and hurled him into the night. Vaughan saw for an instant Jack's face, then it, too, disappeared. He had seen the other, in that brief, dreadful moment, the small, | blood-shot eyes, the thick. matted beard; |and had known it for Martin Young's. | And never, in all his life, though he live to be an old, old man, would he see on a | human face such a look of unutierable hatred as he saw on that face then. game “Why, It's this way, pard,” said one of thé others mildly, an old. man; “it's kind of an understood thing amongst some of us if the Parson can put one o' them cards o' hisn intér the pack an’ we not notice, that féllow’s got to go to CHAPTER XVIIL meetin’. See? I guess's long’s the party’s — broke up I'll g0 along with you.” He, | A Crusade for Temperance. too, arose. It became known, throughout Eureks Martin swore furiously. Of all the and the ranches around, at Galena and Lewis and Ruby Hill, that any ené wha meddled with the parson would sooner” or later have to settle with Jacks Martin Young’s experience had told to what lengths Jack would go in. adminsitering what he called justice. The aftair of Tim Noonan showed that he also meant to Kkeep order. Tim came into one of the Wednesday night prayer meetings the worse for liquor and flung himself down im the cornér by the stove. The heat and the singing of the hymns sent him off to sieap @t first, but he awoke, confused and quarreisompe, when the parson Dbe- blasphemed places that he ever got into, this was- the most wickedly and shock- ingly vituperated. He walked angrily out | to the bar, demanding his drink. When he returned the room was empty. The third miner had erept out and followed the othér two. He was- not left Jong alone. A company of cowboys entered, ribtously, and filled the salooh.. To them Martin, now béyond reserve -or caution, reheérsed his woes, beginning with the loss of his girl and ending with the loss of his game, blaming the Parson for all. The cowboys drew him on;, asked questions, offered sym- pathy, suggested means of redress, shout- ing to- Pere Hyacinthe every now and then. that™ "Twas time to f'll-up.” - Bev- eral of them flourished the flasks they | §8n his ”addnll. 3 ¢ E - already ad In their pocksts: The bar-| I sam” he shouted, “tha’ aln’t so. Ne- buddy b'leves tha' now." Vaughan had encouraged interruption, when it betokened a desire to get at the truth, or a difference of opinion. But in- terruption of this sort was not to be tolarated. He stopped preaching and looked at Tim. “Be silent,” he Said sternly, “‘or out you got” “Ain’t goin' to be silent,” “Preachin’ lies. ‘Tain't so. Down from the platform stépped the preacher and took Tim by the collar. “You must go out,”” he said firmniy. “fWant any help, Parson? inquired half a dozen. “I think not,”” was the reply. Tim de- mitrred, tried to argue. pulled this way and that, but wént, and wne services con- tinued. A few evenings afterward a sober, pani- terit Tim entered the parson’s study and laid on the desk one of the .ong leather ‘whips used by the mule drivers, kmown ds a “black snake.” Without a word he began to pull off his coat. “What are you doing?”’ asked Vaughan in surprise. : “Jaeck Perry told me to come down hers and ‘peel to the buff,” " said Tim; “and let you lay on tu: the bleod comes, 'cause I done what I dig t'other night.” “You didn't know what you were do- répiled the parson, touched by Jack's loyalty and by Tim's submission. “Tell Jack youw've apologized and it's all right.” s Main’t, though,” sald Tiov. “Yes, you have, when you lald that whip on my desk. I'd like to keép the whip.” Vaughan had not outsrown a boyish fondness for souvenirs. - They shook hands and parted. This story, too; went abroad aAnd trav- eled as far as Winnemucea. Not pres cisely the divinity ..at hédyes a king, bt the. atmoaphére which may surreund an obscure Methodist parson when he is squired by such an one as Jaek, sur- réunded by Vaughan. Penrose gave him half a colwhn in the Bureka Sentinel every Monday. His lectures were reported dn full. All his mdvements were ciiron- feled. Katharine clipped évery motice and ‘burned the papers. _"But I do wish .¢é ‘was a churchman," she sighed. and laid traps for him with little books entitled “Why I am an Epis- copalian™ and ‘“The Apestolic Succes- sion," -books which Clement- meant to read. byt somehow never found the time. né was very. busy -erganising guilds among the ‘young people—a.man's club, a woman's sewing societv—and. flying off ‘to lectire whenever anybody would have tender kept out of their way and watched for Jack: It was long past the usual time for ‘him to return. There had been & special meeting of the’ ways and means :committée, which consisted 8t the Peison and Jack and whoever- else Jack eclld, as he terméd it, “haul_in.” Tonight it happened to Be Shed Wellnian upen whom he fastened. After couferring with the Pareon for a while, the other two men walked away together and renewed, with more free< dom, their discussion. “What I like about him,” sald Jack. in his customary drawl, “is that he don't ‘make a poor mouth,' ™ ™ ““That's what!" ecried Shed, his short, snappy. manner offering an amusing con- trast to- Jack's deliberation. “I've aiwa, said theré was threé kinds of poor, the ' Lord's poor, the devil's péor and poer | devils, and most generally parsons come | under the last head; but he don't." | “Not much!" said Jack, with & chuckle. | “When heé ‘goes broke,’ he acéts as if | there was nothin’ too good for ‘him." “Sure!” declared Shed. “‘He's a regular That's what I told Mart Young yesterday, But Mart can't see any gdod in him, for some rea- son_or other.” “I may hdve to deal with Mart,” said returned Tim. They had neared the saloon. Sounds of the horseplay within floated out fo them. Jack quickéned his pace. As they mounted the steps they heard Martin Young, quité bevond restraint now, coin- plaining bitterly, while his noisy com- panions applauded every word. With one stride Jack was in their midst. It .was good to see ‘his great shoulders heave and to catch the gleam in his steel-gray eyes. The talk and laughter ceased. Even Martin was silent for a moment, then he began again, “Nothin' but prayer-meetin's. Jack ain' the same since he made lemonade—." He stopped, his jaw fell, beforé the look in the saloon-keeper’'s eyes. “Go on!” said Jack. “W-w-w-with g—a stick in It,” sta: mered Martin. y “Go on.’' said Jack. “F-for the—the Parson’s--Sociables! I-— I—was only foolin', Jack. Honest, I was only foolin’'! Don't shoot, for God's sake, don’t shoot!” 2 . : “Get down on your knees,” thundered Jack, with his revolver at Martin's’ head, “and say, ‘I'm a damn lar''" Martin stumbled to his knees. a damn liar!” he mumbled. - “Stay where you. are!” commanded Jack. “And—crawl to the Parson's study | “I'm and whe:n yo'\.x get Ih;n lh:k“ his boot and ll:. . £ say again, ‘I'm a damn Mar' Go on,|. the midst of it all b new! Crawl? K from Ricker, the Cnnbi.-:.:‘h:re‘: There was deathly silence in the room. | Ruby Hill.. Martin looked up, saw death in the shin-| *Brother Vaugha 14 Ricker. “1 ing barrel before him, death in the. pit- iless gray .eyes that met hi& own, and he crawled, across the floor, down the steps, into the street. & His late comrades pressed to the door have had it borne fn upon me that ye' have to preach tempeérance for x n’fi.’.’ unt.. ‘this besottied land awakes to the [ . I've been preachi perance and stood staring after him. Over ever wince- » turned S S W o Tt Te g 1 was this ° “Aw_ know, ied “Buy 3 that s .nllnm(.ly, came out and down { have b_tn'mum -n:::':::‘mfl z: and up the Strdet? A misshapen quad-['em fear. ‘Taln't . ths 'preachin’ from ruped? A monstrous worm?—It could | voiur own doorstep, . where they order not be a man! what they please and take They crossed the street. Others came, | lil o e Whet Bex fromi saldon and dance-house and alley, h‘ “‘“-‘m S el _Continued Next Sundag.