The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 10, 1906, Page 5

FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALY re town who ced-handed with long n- today like sur- e eight two months 4 From Page speak grieved as if she we blame « disappointments? . be very sorry to lose she returned with equal formal- reconsider left w it habit She answered a cheerfu pile of petti- by o be seated the win sister-in among v, 1 am soothing wear be e 8 W ddeniy don’t think it is mettled riding crop up her her She was dres: rts about her & &o. re- eated. never ou long to e ask vou some- " sank languidly back agair he ir g recesses of i e w . she inquired A1k is o out of Mabel At inditer- don't arine know."” 1 Mabel mysteric d ly, her child’s, ““that it ith that item in as a awoke. ghe in- 50" pright just feel that it Arthur when he he won't tell me, rm laughied Kath pretty Mabel wa: 1 v x tangle of lace and ribbons she slied a negligee. was no wonder Ar adored her. And she was quite to remain with him, here in the How littie difference it n lived, if she had loved beside her the Reverend Gentleman’ was pursued Mabel, employing the had been lost in a military seated at breakfast, with- ey s, were suddenly attackec of brown men who fought bitter fight with naked t keen knives, with the ds again sul almost total annih is one of the most dramatic in his- tory We had just returned from China,” said Mr. Gibbs, “and had had a serious time of it there with the allied armies the ief of the missionaries. Our company was next to Balangiga, Samar 1. with orders to keep this small port closed and to allow no trad- our quarters In the of the town, as Is usual, and hough we had out pickets it was impossible to guard every avenue of approach on account of the rambling nature of the buildings. The Filipinos d friendly, but we knew that ry Filipino was a boloman, always 1y to join every band ef insurgents, 1 so took all precautions. Our company Kitchen as is usual, children's name for him, “because of something Arthur sald when he read the notice.” “What did he say?’ demanded Katha- rine. She had quite forfotten her own fatigue and Mabel's prettiness. ng about Methodists, I've v forgotten what. 8o when ‘C. V.' called this afternoon——"" Has Mr. Vaughan been here?” cried Katharine. sharply. hat did he say? Did he ask for me?’ “He Qldn't ask for any one, Katharine, He J ed for a nalf-hour or more. playing with the children, and then went away 1 didn't know., until Arthur shiould tel! me something about it. how 1 was t act. So I @idn't go down.” The little airs which Mabel assumed »f “the obedient wife” would have tonched Katharine’s sense of humor at another time and in relation to another subject. At present they irritated her. I do wish,” she said pettishly, “that ou could sometimes think for yourself and not walt'tiil Arthur tells you what ¢ sultable. Of course, Mr. ughn knew the house. “Reading in hef room. She has a novel <he is crazy to finish. Marguerite sa she reads it while she combs her I don't think he expected to see any of us. Kitty. 1 questioned Nora afterward, and she sald hie didn't ask for a soul. “If 1 find out anything I'll tell you," there must be some of us in she added, as Katharine arose to leave the room. *“T'll do what I can with Arthur, Of course, I don't know what sort of a mood he may be in.” She did her pretty, coaxing best when her husband came home, but for pnce ner dainty wills were ineffectual. “Child.” he said at length, “it is some- thing 1 dom't care to have you hear. Isn't that enough, little pne?” His volce had in it the note of re- proachful tenderness which invariably sent Mabel into fits of penitence for having called it forth. “Forgive me,"” she murmured, with her lips against his cheek. She avolded Katharine’'s inquiring glance at dinner, and when they met in | the hall on their way to bed she whis- pered in her sister-in-law's ear, “It's of no use, Kitty. Ie simply doesn't want to have me know. I'm afraid it's pretty bad.” What was pretty bad? The challenge or the manner in which it was accepted? {How was Eugene Winslow implicated? ;u Vaughan had said or done anything Where was Emmeéline?” | hair. | was some little distance from the quarters and it was customary for us to march down to grub in a body. In the peaceful towns such as this a guard is left at the quarters with the arms.” They had done this every day for a month without the suspicion of any lurking danger. They had worried less than usual about it for a few days because every man in the com- pany had become depressed with the terrible thought that in some military he was ashamed of. he surely would not | there, still eager, alert, determined. Once | York dally, But evidently | more he ran through the ciosely written ¢ have called that afternoon. shuffle had become lost. had heard For not a they eight weeks they word from elther superior officers or | {from home. They had come to this strange little port and civilization had |shut the door behind them as though }forever. land day from the world without. If this isl- and had sunk to the bottom of the sea they could not have been more utterly buried. There was something ominous about it. It preyed on their minds until every man became wor- ried ‘and fretful. At léngth, feeling the strain to be unbearable, a lieutenant was detailed to row up the strait to Tacloban and sée if either mail or orders were wait- ing there for the company: While he was away several unusual things | happened at Balangiga. An earthquake had destroyed several buildings in the town and injured many natives. These were tenderly cared for by Surgeon Griswold. town, bells were frequently rung and there seemed to be unusual ment. Women were seen to be leaving the place and many strange faces were about, A These conditions were noted by the officers, but when they questioned the chief of police and presidente they were told that it was only the dread of another earthquake or a tidal wave that caused the commotion. In a day or two their fears would be alloyed and all wotild return. This was a reasonable explapacon and the com- pany forgot the incident and turned their eyes out to sea again to watch for their emissary to civilization. In the meanwhile on the forenoon of Septem} r 28 the Lieutenant and his ‘above Balangiga, and had put in there for water. It had been a long, tedious pull agal Fol- | lowing this meetings were held in the | excite- | | four me .. had reached Basey, the post | nst wind and current and the | five looked so exhausted that Captain | Bookmiller, in charge of Company G, stationed there, pressed them to re- main until the following day. The Lieu- tenant pointed to his mail bags. “It has been eight weeks since the boys have heard,” he said. “I keep them waiting another They'll go crazy.” They reached the company in afternoon and fell exhausted on beds. The Lleutenant was discovered grasping the letters, some of them crushed into his pocket, his throat cut from ear to ear. guns were piled. 80 natives run over the hill toward the officers’ quarters, niuffled ery and then silence, The men were dazed, but springing the captain’'s house. sight that held them spellbound horror. Following glass they saw their captain standing | can't | hour. | | the | their | later lying face downward, his hands| Early the next morning the men | marched down to mess, somé thirty | feet from the barracks where their| They were drinking | their coffee when they saw a dozen or| They heard a | to their feet turned in the direction of | There they saw a | in | the breaking of | { made them he sprang from the window, twenty feet from the ground, and started down the hill shouting his orders: “To your guns! / He stumbled, fell, rose again and| was met with more knives. They hacked open his cheek, cut off an arm. but still he fought om, and the men, their heads whirling, could not grasp the meaning of it. They were hypno tized. But the next second, coming to them- selves, they seized shovels, clubs and | table knives and started in a bedy | back toward the barracks. Armed with | these weapons alone, they faced the | natives and killed man after man of | them. One soldier, with only an ordi nary spade, wielded it with such effect | th& he was soon surrounded by a pile of dead natives. He then seized one of | their knives and fought on until over- | come by sheer weight. The barracks were reached and four- teen men lost their lives trying to| mount the stairs. Five othe: tried | to climb a bamboo ladder leading to| the upper story, but when almost with- | in reach of tue sill the ladder broke and back they tumbled into a horde of men, who Soon had cut them into | little bits. The natives, crazed by their | sueccess and blood hunger, hacked away | at the bodies until they were unrecog- nizable. Gibbs vividly describes his own part in the bloody work. He says | “I was in barracks No. 3 and there I met the chief of police. I had found a bayonet, but had just killed one man and could not get the steel out of | the body quick enough to protect my- self. The chief was armed with a bayoneted rifle. I dodged behind a par- tition and waited for him. When he | came into the room I sprang upon his back and forced him into a corner. He was a much larger and more powerful man than I, and 1 soon felt that I was losing ground. It was a fierce wrestling match we had there and the stakes were life. I fought as a dog fights, biting, tugging, wrenching, feaming at the mouth. I was crazy and knew only that in some way I must, .1 must get this man to the ground. And when that happened 1 must be on top. That is all I thought of—I must be on top. “Finally 1 got my arms about him and with my last ounce of strength, lifted. He fell. I was on top. I jabbed | my knee again and again into his stomach. He weakened and was soon finished. “When I got to my feet I saw Cor- poral Burke with a man on the bed, | revolver at his head.” Covered with wounds, Gibbs seized the chief's rifle and rushed out into the open. There again it was the fight of one man against a dozen. But the few remaining were desperate. The sight of the wounded comrades, the realiza- tion of what surrender meant to them shoot and hack long after they ceased to know what they were about. There was only a scant dozen of them whe survived this first at- tack, but they fought like 1,200. When their ammunition gave out they used their bayonets or the weapons of the | aggressively, as though a whole reg | which blood, struggled on as though they had ceased to be men and had become avenging furies. A single man would rush headlong, blind with blood, into a group of ff- teen armed natives and scatter them in flight. Their number shrank from twelve to eleven, from eleven to ten So long as a man could stand on his feet he fought, not in defense but ment were at his heels. Omce a m lost his footing that was the end of him. The next second he was a muti= lated mass of flesh. Another man fell and them another. Finally there were only eight of Com= pany C left. All this had taken place in less than half an hour. But the natives had had enough of it. They were beginning to disappear into the jungle und behind the rice grass from they had sprung. Soon there was not a brown man who dared to approach this hardy, blood-besmeared group of eight men. Every man of them was wounded and faint with loss of blood. Gibbs himself was suffering from five cuts. When at last these men were left to swab the blood from out their eves they saw a sight that took still mere strength from them. About the mesa table, where a short while before a group of soldiers had sat waiting for the mafl which lay beneath the body of the dead Meuten~ ant, there sat now a row of corpses. Many of them were beheaded, others sat as though caught as they tried to rise from the table. There stood the food, the tin coffee cups, the forks and spoons, in front of as ghastly a body of diners as ever human eyes looked upon. The eight, all that was left of a company, ran for the boats. They took with them such of the wounded as were able to be dragged, and pulled away from the terrible shore. Ome man put out in a boat by himself and has never been heard of sinece. But even in the boats they were not safe. The wounded oarsmen pulled for their lives, exhausted, feeble as they were and the natives followed, shooting at them. Two of the wounded were shot in this way and two others died of their wounds. All that night the mén pulled those oars, and as the salt sea washed into the frail crafts it entered the wounds and set them to burning afresh. Yet they never dared stop. When one man fainted the others pulled the harder. When the fainting man revived he took his place again. There was al- ways a vacant seat at the oars. In strange sea, in the dark, with nerves tense because of ignorance of how closely they might be pursued, they stuck it out until daylight, and until the post of Company G, was when these And @grewsome boatload of what had once others saw this been men they rible than any knew a fear more ter- they had yvet known. Day after day they had scanned the | v hig window beating back a horde | natives themselves, and in a wild 'he fainting men did not need to ocean In the hope of seeing gome boat | of natives with his naked fists. A |freniy cut them down by the dozen. SPeak. ¥ | bearing letters and messages to them, | goszen daggens and sWwords were hack- The natives became awed. There was “Where are the others?” screamed z after day the sun had gone|ing away at him, but, covered witk sométhing uncanny in the way this company G man. down and darkness had come to shut | blood, he struck out at them, his back small group of men, hoarse-throated “There are no others,” answered {them off more effectually than ever |to thé wall. Then with a quick turn | but yelling like demons, govered with | Gibbs. e S L e il - € 5 = Ty | which the children which the children THE SAGEBRUSH ** he sald olemnly. “By jiminy , Winslow, how'd you ever do it?” | Haverford and even Arthur thought he | pages and smiled, He gathered the sheets e thought about these things for ought to be ashamed. Was the lack in |Jogether and caught his hat from the |some time,” said Winslow modestly. “I've | him or In them? Had they misinter- | table where he had flung it on his return read a good deal on the subject. That's preted. perhaps, an Innocent, even a |from the church. In a very different mood |why I can’'t stand hearing these half- praiseworthy. motive? These were some | Tom that which possesed him then, he | baked, uneducated fellows around here of the things which Katharine woula |20 lightly down the stairs and hurried |undertake to tell people what to believe.” very much like to know. along the styeet. “It'1l raise heli among the ministers, | CHAPTER XxXI. | i | "“All Fools." nsiow came home from what he considered the Methodist's un- | pardonable attack upon him greatl shaken and with a deep sense of humilia- tion and helplessness, It was the first time Eureka had ever seen him disturbed out of his customary dignity and calm, and he had been five years in the town, Stili under 30, he had a reputation over half the State for vlear-headed, | headed common %ense, the ability to grasp the situation and do tHe should be done, with enough learning to | proVe his right to do it. He expected, and | 0 Qid every one eise, that he would be the next District Attorney. Barker covet- | ed the distinction, deserved it, when he was sober, and was nearly twice Wins- low’s age. Probably he would get it now, thought the agitated lawyer, seating him- | self at his desk and burying his head in | his hands. | It was a bad move to antagonize Jack. Confound the Methodist, how did he know? It was like him to be “snooping {around!” What would they say on Rich- | mond Hiil! Over and over again he reviewed the | evening and its influence upon his future until his brain was sore. How could he | right himself? How could he belittle, de- grade, make ridiculous the one who had exposed him? The two desires were one. Schemes mad as the gallop of wild horses raced through his brain, followed by slower, more cunning plans. At last he detained one, scrutinized it, questioned it, and smiled approvingly. He drew pen and paper toward him and commenced to | write. | Gradually the tension relaxed. e | sighed, the long fluttering sigh of one | who sees the clouds lift, In expression, | whatever the result mikht be, he was finding relief. Only the rapid progress of the pen over the paper told him he was yet moved. He drove the words before | him like a flock of sheep. Now and then | he stopped and read what he had writ- |ten, laughing to himself. The color came back to his cheeks, the light to his eyes. He was himself again, . Night passed, day came and found him | cool- | thing which | The lights in the office of the Sentinel were being lowered out of deference (o { the sun, and because Penrosa was through nis work until after breakfast. He looked up ag Winslow entered, not wholly plensed at the Interruption. “1 have something for the paper: is it 100 late?" asked Winsiow abruptly. | “Yes, it 1s," sald Penrose with decision, “and, anyway. if it's about last night, I'll tell you to begin with that 1 mean te say very little about that affair.” “Who wants you to say anything about t?' returned Winslow loftily. “This article i8 conéerned with an en- tirely different matter. Of course, if vou don't care to look it over—'' he made a move toward the door. “Hold on. Don't go off like that!"” cried Penrose. He had too many times to send him away dlssatisfled or unsatis- fled. “Let's see what you've got.” He held out his hand for the manuscript. “I thought-——" “You thought I was as crazy as the rest of you,” finished Winslow. “I'm not, 1 was indignant at that actions, and how the rest of you could sit like a lot of ninnies—I don’t want to talk about it—" “Give us your stuff!” urged Penrose, again extending his hand. Winslow, with a laugh, relinquishing his papers. Penrose was tired, but he was also curlous. There was something in Wins- low's manner, at once complacent and eager, which stimulated inquiry. He had something there which was worth while or he would have walted to bring it later. Penrose hitched his chair along to the window, drew the shade higher and be- dozen lines a low chuckle broke from him. At the bottom of the page he’ laughed aloud, \ | Winslow grinned, in sympathy and self- | appreciation. Penrose hurried on. Again | he laughed and wagged his head from side to side. His face brightened. The. lince of / fatigue disappeared. It was not often in his dally moutine that he hap- pened upon anything so full of meat. He looked up at the lawyer, as he concluded, with an expression very liké awe on his thin, sallow face. “It's gond enough for any big New ‘n sought out the lawyer for advice and in- | formation and the phrasing of an editorial | fellow’s | gan to read. Before he had read half a said Penrose, “if I print it."" | “You're not obliged to print it;* said | Winslow. | “But itil go all over the United States | pursued Penrose, thinking aloud. It | dynamite, ninety-five per cent, sure’s you | live, but it's great!" ‘I over the sheets he held in his hand. He again glanced “Do vou want to sign your name to this?” he | 1l sign my Initials,” replled Winslow. | “All right, sir. In she goes!" sald Pen- | rose. 100 lata for today’s paper, but it'll be in tomorow's—Wednesday's.” “Thdt's all right,” said Winslow. “And there's another thing I want to speak about, Penrose. Some one ought to or- ganize a debating club to discuss these s; why don't you do it?" cried Penrese in dismay. I couldn’t run @ debating club to save my damned neck.” “You wouldn’t have to,” returned Wins- low easily. “‘Get It started and elect a president and you wouldn't' have any more trouble.”” “There wouldn't any one take the office,” declared Penrose, ‘‘and there I'd be with a club on my hands. You've always said you hadn’t time for such things. “Oh, well, in an affair of this kind—right in my line,” began Winglow. “Would you be president of such a club?’ inquired Penrose point-blank. “Why, ves; if they wanted me to." “All right, sir; we'll see what we can a “Penrose,” sald Winslow solemnly, “I am convinced that you and I between us can accomplish a great deal in the intel- lectual development of Eureka.” *1 don't know about my part of it,” said Penrose humbly; but he was evidently taken with the plan. Before the two men separated they had organized the Eureka Debating Club, on paper, selected its officers and written a notice, to appear in the same newspaper with Winslow's article, appointing Thurs- day night for the first meeting, to be held in the schoolhouse. It was not until Winslow had left the office that Penrose remembered that this wag the night of the Methodist midweek prayer meeting. It never occurred to him that Winslow had been aware of the fact and had arranged the hour, seven, to at- { | | | { | | | | PARSON = | uel Barker. | say, | Jerry looked troubled and left the rnomfsned Willoain: - ot oF Sen: |and Mat were both busy. |ed and paild but indifferent attemtion to tract such of the parson’s loyal adherents as would net remain away from church, | but might be induced to drop in on their| way to the haif-past-seven service. There was one person in Euréka who saw this plainly, discerned the motive in| Winslow's article—the real purpose of the | debating club—no less a person than Sam- His encounters with the wily young advocate, in court and out of it, had, as he expressed it “put him on to| Winslow's curves,” and he chuckled | mightily when he overheard Mumford | ““This is directed against the very foundations of belfef." | ““The very foundations. of Vaughan!" returned Barker. ‘‘Guess I'll go areund and see what he thinks of it.” ! He found the young preacher in his| study taiking earnestly to Jerry Flynn. | without so much as asying ‘“Good-day. Vaughan, himself, was evidently disturb- Barker's comments upon Winslow and his work “So you needn't be surprised or of- fended,” sald Barker, “If the attendance is slim at theé praver meeting tomorrow night. They'll all go to the club after reading that article.” “‘What article?” inquired Vaughan. Barker threw up his hands. “Yo haven't heard a word I've been sayim he cried. -“Hera.” he pulled Wednesday's Sentinel out of his pocket and threw it on the desk. *‘Read this and get It through your head what Winslow’s up to.” “Can’t you tell me what's in it?" in- quired Vaughan. Barker gave him a quizzical look. “A rehash of Voltaire and the encyclopaedists done into mining and cowboy vernacular; but it's cleverly dome. Read it, read it! ““Are you in a hurry for your paper? asekd Vaughan. 1 “No. But you must read it, right away. | You've got to preach to the D. P. I. next Sunday. You know it's ‘All Fools,’ and as chaplain of vz D. P, 1" 'Who eaid 1 was chaplain of the D. P. L?" interrupted Vaughan, smiling in spite | of himself. iy “T did,”” said Barker; “next Sunday be- | ing our day youil have to preach to us.| Eha Masons have a day, and so does the . A. R. Why not the D. P. L.” Let me | know definitely by Friday, so that I can advertise. I shall count on you, se don't fail me. 3 He left the church ana Vaughan re-| turned to his thoughts—anxious thoughts they were, of the danger that threatened the pretty sister of mary Flynn. His visit to Richmond Hill the previous day had not had for its object the romp u | the traces, planned, or the interview which Kathar- ine missed, but was planned solely to convey through Nora a message to Jerry asking him to come to the church. The two men had conferred long and earnest- Iy, but without arriving at any definite conclusion. She's that high strung, sor,” said Jer- ry, “if we say too much she'll kick over and there ye are! Il talk with Mary, but I'm doubtin® 't'll do anny good.” So they left it. The Wednesday Sentinel remained om the table where Barker had flung it, un~ opened till the following morning, after prayer meeting. There was by no means the usual af- tendance—young girls and the women who always came were present, but there was not a man in the church, save the parson himself. Yeét Dick had ridden in from the Wi man raneh “ on purpose to go.” He had himseif told Vaughan when they met on the cormer. And Jo and his crewd had not in weeks mised a single service. Jack But what had become of the others? Vaughan delayed the meeting, hoping they would appear. He sprang to his feet and gave out the opening hymn. As soon as the worshipers had de parted and the lights were out, he ré- turned teo his study and took up the Sentinel. Winslow's effort was not hard to fimd: it was on the front page be- tween “Job Jumper Can Return, Says Jury Sitting on The Mexican's Remains'* and “Under the Red Light: Eight Bi- chloride of Mercury Tablets Did The Business of Self-Destruction.” Between these two headings there was an at- tractive brevity about Winslow's “Is there a God?" o Vaughan read it eagerly from begine ning to end—not a word escaped him. As Barker had sald, it was cleverly done. The heaviness of argument was av vet argument was there, plausible,’ vineing, and through it all glittered and shone the laughter of the man whaoge method had been borrowed along with his plea. Rspeeially did it ‘play, like heat lightning, about Methodism and the Methodists. Stung wide awake by the hints, the al- lusions, Vaughan caught pen and and as Winslow had written he wrote, unconselous of his surroundings unti} dawn mocked his lamp. Then he pushed back what he had wgitten, his his D. P. 1. sermon, writtea on the “The fool hath said in his heart Is no God,” broke his rast. went Barker's office and . left word that would preach as requested. and gyt on a walk over the Geiger Grade. (Continued Kut. Suadav.y ' g