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PICKENS. SOUTH CAROGINA.
Life Is getting to be just one hot
spell after another.
One way to endure the heat is to
think of pleasanter things.
A good rule to apply is, the hotter A
the weather the simpler the life. U
That day on which a new aviation
hero does not materialize need not be
Until we have an official national d
flower perhaps the Mayflower will en
have to do.
With a microbe in every kiss how 1
many narrow escapies do you suppose ke
you have had?
Was it not lucky that the dear wom- !
en got rid of their rats before the hot th
wave camte along? br
Softne people (1o not believe in vaca
tions. They needn't go to the school.
boy for sympathy.
With the wider use of bubbly foun- In
tains nearly everybody will learn to ti
drink like a horse. b1
A boy does not regard it as a hard
ship to have to take swimming lessons
during his vacation.
No objection can be raised to the at
coatless man unless he sheds his good i
manners with his coat. pl
They are breaking the bathing ree
ords in Boston. Ilot weather will dc
drive people to anything. hi
The fool that rocks the boat is with
,us in suimmertim. but the fool that h
speeds his auto is with us always. BE
All society is now divided into two
parts-those who have and those who
have not been up in an aeroplane. g
One of the troubles about fly swat- p
ting is that where one fly is swatted 1
two more appear to plague the swat- i
A newspaper devotes a page of type d
and pictures to showing how to man- a
age a canoe. There is only one way. tc
A Philadelphia man has just sold
his autollobile to get money to buy a
homo. Just to be different, we pro
What has become of all our Amer
can aviators? The foreign airmen aire ti
winning all the prtzeH and breaking
,all the necks.
One 'eather expert says the world
is growing" ,vr.riier. but he listens In
vain for a plause. liing on the
pirop~het whlo says the world Is grew-u
ing coldler. c
Aman in California, saved from
drowning, gave a clime to is rescuer.
J-Ience, it is fair to conclude that no
life of value to the world was saved
A good nmany of our citizens are
anxious to know whiethier the corn
plexion of tihe Panama canal wvill hlave hi
any effect upon01 the pr1ice of Panama
Surgery has restored his reason to
aSn insane mian. Sur-gery does manyl lv
wonderful thinlgs, but it has nlet roach- a
ed the point whence It can r-estore his15
mnoney to a b~ankrdupta
One of the pirofessor-s hlas been de-b
veloping new kinds of potato bugs ini
order to prove the theory of evolution.
Wily not provo tihe theory withl some
thing that might became useful? di
A Boston woman started out to do
a mian's work-but it r-ainedl and her s
back h1ar camne down-.t
Catching a big fish caused one man
to die of excitement. Perhlaps you o
are lucky in that tihe big fish you h
hook alwvays get away.
Manager Chance has been lIlt on l g
the head with pitched balls thirty- ti
eight times, but that is not whatc
makes him so great a inanlager.
Some authorities hold that aviators
are trespassers except over navigable
waters. But no one can catchl them al
In the act.
A street car motorman has been ar- . i
rested in New York for exceeding the Si8
speed limit. Of course, there did !V
not happen to be a coai wagon in tile W
A new operatic importation can vM
sing in various languages, but speaks e
only Japanese. The accomplishment Si
is of doubtful value, for it is at all S(
times dliflcult to tell whait tongue the v
grand opera star war-bles with.
One of the aviators has succeeded in r
sailing under the uipper bridge at Ni- tc
tugara; but tils is not likely to help hi
any more than Blondiin (lid wvhen lie
walked on a rope across the gorge.
A Boston teacher, who Is retiring gi
after a service of 40 years, advises n(
Young teachers to be "a live wire,-' and il
and to rest their mindsl by flirting a w
lite. Thlere is nothing aged or de. It
crepit in this gingery advice, and it 't
ought .to remove the reproaeh of
Drunes and prisms from the B~oston
teacher's reputation forever.
kUTliOR OP "THU BRAS4
1lJ9UMAU@D? bY [DR
)PYRINT BY L.04//3 F/k.tW VAuygt
)avid Amber, starting for a duck-sloot
r visit with his friend, Quain, comes up
a young lady equestrian who has been
mounted by her horse becoming fright
,d at the sudden appearance in the road
a burly Hindu. He declares he is
hmar Lal Chatterit "the appointed
uthipieco of The Bell.' addresses Amber
a man of high rank and pressing a
'sterious little bronze box. "The To
n," into his hand, disappears in the
od. The girl calls Amber by name.
In turn addresses her as Miss Sophie
.rrel, daughter of Col. Farrell of the
itish diplomatic service in India and
liting the Quains. Several nights later
t Quain home Is burglarized and the
anze box stolen. Amber and Qualn go
nting on an island and become lost and
nber is left marooned.
CHAPTER Ilil. (Continued).
He had, then, these alternatives: he
ight either compose himself to hug
e leeward side of a dune till day
oak (or till relief should come) or
so undortake a five-mile tramp on
e desperate hope of finding at the
id of it the tide out and the sandbar
safe footway from shore to shore.
Atween the two he vacillated] not at
1; anything were preferable to a
ght in the dunes, beaten by the im
acable storm, haunted by the
ought of Qualin; and even though he
aro to find the eastern causeway un
!r water, at least the exercise would
tve served to keep him from freez
Ten minutes after his last cartridge
%d been fruitlessly discharged,' he
it out for the ocean beach, pausing
, the first dune he came upon to
rapo a shallow trench in the svrid
id cache therein both guns e~ad his
tine-bag. Marking the soot with a
it of driftwood stuck, upright, ne
essed on, eventually pausing on the
rerhanging lip of t 20-foot bluff. To
a foot the beata below was aswIrl
nce-deep with wash of breakers.
Awed and disappointed, Amber
rew back. Tie beach was impass
)le; hete was no wide and easy road
the cast, such as ho had thought to
tid, to gain tle sandbar he had now
> thread a tortuous and uncertain
ay through the bewildering dunes.
A demon of anxiety prodded him
t: he must learn Quain's fate, or go
ad. Once on the mainland it were
matter of facility to find his way to
ke village of Shampton, telophone
anglewood and charter a "team" to
nvey him thither. Ile shut his teeth
a his determination and set his face
Beset and roughly buffeted by the
tie; the snow settling in rippling
'ifts in the folds of his clothing and
)Ont his shoulders clinging like a
oth; his face cut by clouds of sand
mug horizontally with well-nigh the
rce of birdshot from a gun: ho
wed to the blast and plodded stead
Imperceptibly fatigue benumbed his
nses, blunted the keen edge of his
notions: oven thte care for Quain be
me a mere dull acho in the back of
s petrceptions; of physical suffering
vatws unconscious, lie fell a prey
freakish fancies. For a long time he
oved on in stupid, wondering con
mplation of a shining cr-escent of
nd backed by a gr-eon, steaming
all of juntgle. Many visions formed
id dissolved in dream-like phantas
agorila; but of them all the strongest
1(1 most recurrent wans thtat of the
r'l in the black r'iding-habit, walking
his sido0 dowvn the aisle of trees.
> tha~t ptresenitly the tired and ove
r-ought man believed himself talking
ith hot, r-easoning, ar'guing, pleadling
sperately for his heart's desir-e; .
. and wakened with a start, to
~ar tlte echo of her voice as though
0 had spoken butt the instant gone,
find his own lips fr'aming the syl
bles or hter namo-"Sophia!"
Abruptly he regained conisciousness
his plight, and with an effort shook
s senses back into his head. It
as not precisely a time when he
mId afford to let his wits go wool
ithering. Inflexible of pur'pose in
to face of all his weariness and dis
utragemeont, he was on the point of
isuming his march when Ito was
ruck by the circumnstanco that thte
hitened shoulder of a dune, quite
eanr at hand, should seem as if
osted with lightt-coldly luminous.
Staring, speeculative, ho hung int the
ind-inquisitive as a cat but loath to
aste time in footless inquiry. The
tow-fall, setting in with augmented
olence, decided htim. Where light
as, there should be man, and where
His third eager stride opened up a
ide basin in the duntes, filled with
idying veils of snow, and set, at
hme dlistance, with two brilliant
iuatres or light-windows in an in
sible (dwelling. In thte space be
teen thtem, doubtless, there woutld be
door. But a second time he paused,
miembetring that the Island was said
be uninhabited. Only yesterday he
id asked and been so informed...
So passing strange ho held it, in
med, that Ito was conscious of a sin
ilar relutctance to question the pho
mtenont. ie had positively to force
mself on to seek the door, antd even
hten ho had stumbled against its
ap he twice lifted his hand ana set
fall without ktocking.
Thereo was not a sound within that
cou:!d htear above the clamour of
.3 ionhn nig-ht
1 DOWb'.! LTC.
In the end, however, he knocked
The Man Perdu.
A shadow swept swiftly across one
of the windows, and the stranger a
the door was aware of a slight jar
ring, as though some more than ordin
arily brutal gust of wind had shakem
the house upon Its f6undation, or au
inner door had been slammed vio
lently. But otherwise he had Bo littl4
evidence that his summons had fallei
on aught but empty walls or deaf earE
that he had begun to debate his righ
to enter without permission, when v
chain rattled, a bolt grated, and thi
door swung wide. A flood of radiance
together with a gust of heated ai
struck him in the face. Dazzled, he
reeled across the threshold.
Three paces within the room; Ambe
paused, waiting for his eyes to adjus
themselves to the light. Vaguely con
scious of a presence behind him, hi
faced another-the slight, spare sil
houette of a man's figure between hin
and the lamp; and at the same timi
felt that he was being subjected ti
a close scrutiny- Loth searching and
at its outset, the reverse of hospitable
3ut he had no niore than become sen
sitivo to this than the man before
stepped quier'ky forward and with twC
strong ,ands clasped his shoulders.
"3avid Amber!" he heard his nami
rvonounced in a voice singularly
resonant and pleasant. "So you've
run me to earth at last!"
Amber's face was blank with in
credulity as he recognized the speak
er. "Rutton!" he stammered. "Rut
ton-why-by all that's strange!"
"Guilty," said the other with a quie
laugh. "But sit down." Ile swung
Amber about, gently guiding him to a
chair. "You look pretty well done up
How long have you been out in this
infernal night? But never mind an
swering; I can wait. Doggott!"
"Take Mr. Amber's coat and boots
and bring him my dressing-gown anc
"And a hot toddy and something tc
eat-and be quick about it."
"Very good, sir."
Rutton's body-servant moved noise
lessly to Amber's side, deftly helpinE
him remove his shooting jacket
whereon snow had caked in thin an<
brittle sheets. Ills eyes, grey an
shallow, flickered recognition an<
softened, but he did not speak in an
ticlpation of Amber's kindly "Goo<
evening, Doggott." To which ho re
sponlded quietly: "Good evening, Mr
Amber. It's a pleasure to see yot
again. I trust you are well."
"QuIte, thank you. And you?"
"I'm very fit, thank you, sir."
"And"-Amber sat down again, Dog
gott kneeling at his feet to unlace an<
remove his heavy pigskin huntinj
boots-"and your brother?"
For a moment the man did not an
swer. His head wvas lowered so tha
his features wvere invisible, but
dull, warm flush overspread hl:
"And your brother, Doggott?"
"I'm sorry, sir, about that; but I
was Mr. Rut ton's orders," mutterc<
"You're talking of the day you mae
Doggott at Nokomis station?'' inter
posed his employer from the stand hi
had taken at one side of the fireplacc
his back to tho broad hearth where
on blazed a grateful driftwood fire.
Amber looked up inquiringly, nod
ding an unspoken afmrmative.
"It was my fault that he-er-pre
varicated, I'm afraid; as ho says, I
was by my order."
Rutton's expression was masked b;
the shadows; Amber could make notll
ing of his curious reticence, and rc
mnained silent, waiting a further em
planation. It came, presently, with al
effect of embarrassment.
"I had-have peculiar reasons to
not wishing my refuge here to bo dim
covered. I told Doggott to be cart
ful, should ho meet atny one we knen~
Although, of course, neither of us at
ticipated . . .
"I don't think Doggott was an:
mere dlumbfounded than I," said Anr
her. "I couldn't believe he'd left yet
yet it seemed impossible that ye
should be here-of all place--In th
neighborhood of Nokomis, I mean. A
for that-" Amber shook his head om
pressively, glancing round the men:
room in which he had found this mai
of such extraordinary qualities. "it'
altogether inconceivable," he summe<
up his bewilderment.
"It does seem so-*even to me, a
"Then why-in heaven's name
"I see I must tell you somethin:
-a little; as little as I can help-c
"I'm afraid you must; though I'r
damned if I can detect a glimmer c
either rhyme or reason in this pre
"In th4~ words," Rutton said delil
eratoly: "I am hiding."
Amber bent forward, studying th
elder man's face intently. Thin an
dark-not tanned like Amber's, bu
with a native arnsa of akin 11k
th-at of the Spanish-it was strongly
marked, its featAires at once promi
nent and finely modeled. The hair
intensely black, the eyes as dark and
of peculiar fire, the lips broad, full,
and sympathetic, the cheekbones high,
the forehead high and somewhat nar
row. these combined to form a
strangely striking ensemble, and
none the less striking for its weird
resewblanco to Amber's own cast of
Indeed, their likeness one to the
other was nothing less than weird in
that it could be so superficially
strong, yet elusive. No two men were
over more unaliko than these save
in this superficial accident of facial
contours and complexion. No one
knowing Amber (let us say) could
ever have mistaken him for Rutton;
and yet any one, strange to both,
armed with a description of Rutton,
might pardonably have believed Am
ber to be his man. Yet manifestly they
were products of alien races, even of
I different climes-their individualities
as dissimilar as the poles.
"Hiding!" Amber reiterated in a
tone scarcely louder than a whisper.
"And you have found me out, my
"But-but I don't-"
Rutton lifted a hand in deprecation;
and as he did so the door in the rear
of the room opened and Doggott en
tered. Cat-like, passing behind Am.
ber, he placed upon the table a small
tray, and from a steaming pitcher
poured him a glass of hot spiced
wine. At a look from his employer hi
filled a second.
Amber lifted his fragrant glass.
"You're joining me, Rutton?"
"With all my heart!" The mar
came forward to his glass. "For old
sake's sake, David. Shall we drinlk
a toast?" Ho hesitated, with a marked
air of embarrassment, then impul
sively swung his glass aloft. "Drinli
standing!" he cried, his voice oddly
vibrant. And Amber rose. "To the
king-the king, God bless him!"
"To the king!" It was more an ex.
clamation of surprise than an echc
to the toast: nevertheless Amber
drained his drink to the final drop. As
he resumed his seat, the room rang
with the crash of splintering glass;
. in the End, However, H
Rutton had dashed his tumbler t(
atoms on the hearthstone.
-"WVell!" commented Amber, lifting
-his brows questioningly. "You arn
-sincere, Rutton. lBut who in blazes
1 would ever have suspected you of be
ing a British subject?"
-"But it seems to me I should have
-"What have you ever really knowr
-about me, David, save that I am my
"Well-when you put it that way
-little enough - nothing." Ambl
laughed nervously, disconcerted. "But
Sseriously now, this foolish talk aboui
hiding is all a joke, isn't it?"
"No," said Rlutton soberly; "no, it's
no joke." Ho sighed profoundly. "As
for my recent whereabouts, I have beer
1-ah-traveling considerably; moving
about from pillar to pest." To thix
the man added a single word, the
more significant in that it embodiet
t the nearest approach to a confldencc
that Amber had over known him t<
"Hunted by whom?"
"I beg your pardon." Rutton beni
forward and pushed the cigarettes tc
Amber's elbow. "I am-ah--so pro
foccupied with my own moan troubles
David, that I had forgotten that yet
had nothing to smoke. Forgive me.'
"That's a matter, I-"
Amber cut short his imnpatient
catechism in deference to the other's
mute plea. And Rutton thanked hinr
Swifh a glance-one of those looks
I which, between friends, are more elo
t quent than words. Sighing, ho shool
the flames. And silently studying hIs
face-the play of light from lamp and
hearth throwing its features iP' sa
lient relief-for the first time A , r,
his wits warmed back to activity from
the stupor the bitter cold had put upon
them, noticed how time and care had
worn upon the man since they had
last parted. He had never suspected
Rutton to be.his senior by more years
than ten, at the most; tonight, how
ever, he might well be taken for fifty.
Impulsively the younger man sat up
and put a hand upon the arm of Rut
ton's chair. "What can I do?" he
Rutton roused, returning his regard
with a smile slow, charming, infinitely
sad. "Nothing," he replied; "abso
"No man can do for me what I
cannot do for myself. When the time
comnes"-he lifted his shoulders light
ly-"I will do what I can. Till then
. . ." Ho diverged at a tangent.
"After all, the world is quite as tiny
as the worn-out aphorism has it. To
think that you should find me here!
It's less than a week since Doggott
and I hit upon this place and settled
down, quite convinced we had, at last,
lost ourselves . . . and might hav(
peace, for a little space at least! And
now," concluded Rutton, "we have tC
"Because I've found you here?"
'*'ecause you have found me."
"I don't understand."
"My dear boy, I never meant yot
"But if you're in any danger-"
"I am not."
"You're not! But you just said
"I'm in no danger whatever; hu
ianity is, if I'm found."
"I don't follow you at all."
Again Rutton smiled wearily.
didn't expect you to, David. But thi
misadventure makes it necessary tha
I should tell yon something; you mus
be made to believe in me. I beg yox
to; I'm neither mad nor making gaim
of you." There was no questioninj
the sane sincerity of the man. H1
continued slowly. "It's a simple fact
incredible but absolute, that, were m,
whereabouts to be made public,
great, a staggering blow would b
Knoke SoulyEnug .
mustcknow Stoaty aEugh. eo
struc Moast he peoul ndd-"i
o te i worl.. .Don' augh Dmb
"I'med notnfughing "ucan expet yo
to understand me: you couldln't unl-es
I were to tell you what I may noi
But you know me-better, perhapi
than any living man save Doggott
..and one other. You kno'
whether or not I would seek to delud
you, David. And knowing that
could not, you know why it seems ti
me Imperative that, this hole bein
discovered, Doggott and I must be
take ourselves elsewhere. Sure1
there must be solitudes-!" IHI ros
with a gesture of impatience and b4
gan restlessly to move to and fro.
Amber started suddenly, flushini
"If you mean--"
Rutton's kindly hand forced hir
back into his chair. "Sit down, David
I never meant that-never foi an ii
stant dreamed you'd intentionatiy be
tray my secret. It's enough that yel
should know it, should occasionall'
think of me as being hero, to brini
misfortune down upon me, to work al
incalculable disaster to tho progres
of this civilization of ours."
"You mean," Amber asked uncer
tainly, "thought transference?"
"Something of the sort-yes." Thb
man cameo to a pause besidlo Amber
looking down almost pitifully Into hi;
face. "I daresay all this sounds hope
lossly melodramatic and neurotic and
tommyronic naid t . . IC
tell you nothing more. I'm sorry."
"But only let me help you-any way
in my power, Rutton. There's notb
ing I'd not do. . . ." I
"I know, David, I know it. But my
case is beyond human aid, since X ank
powerless to apply a remedy myself."
"And you are powerless?"
Rutton was silent a long moment.
Then, "Time will tell," he said quietly.
"There is one way . . ." He re.
sumed his monotonous round of the
Mechanically Amber began to
smoke, trying hard to think, to peno.
trate by reasoning or intuition the
wall of mystery which, it seemed, Rut,
Rutton Turned to the Fire, His Head
ton chose to set between himself and
Pre ;ently he grew conscious that
Rutton was standing as if listening,
his eyes averted to the windows.
"What Is it?" he inquired at length,
t unable longer to endure the tensity
t of the pause.
"Nothing. I beg your pardon, D
vid." Rutton returned to his chair,
I making a visible effort to shake off
a his preoccupation.. "It's an ugly night,
out there. Lucky you blundered on
this place. Tell me how it happened.
What became of the other man--youP
The thought of Quain stabbed Am
ber's consciousness with a mental
pang as keen as acute physical an
guish. He jumped up in torment.
"God!" he cried chokingly. "I'd for
gotten! He's out there on the bay,
poor devil!-freezing to death if not
drowned. Our boat went adrift some
how; Quain would insist on going aft
er her in a leaky old skiff we found on
the shore . . . and didn't come
back. I waited till it was hopeless,
then concluded I'd make a try to cross
to Shampton by way of the tidal bar.
And I must!"
"It's impossible," Rutton told him
with grave sympathy.
"But I must; think of his wif
ch!) d rer~ Rutton-! NT49r48
yet-a baro chance; he may have
reached the boat. If he did, every
minute I waste here is killing him by
inches; he'll die of exposure! Dut
from Shampton we could send a
"The tide fulls about midnight to
night," interrupted Rutton, consulting
his watch. "It's after nine-and
there's a heavy surf breaking over the
bar now. By ten it'll be impassable,
and you couldn't reach it before 11. Be
content, David; you're powerless."
"You're right-I know that," groan.
ed Amber, his head in his hands. "I
was afraid it was hopeless, but
"I know, dear boy, I know!"
With a gesture of despair Amnbei
resumed his seat. l'or some time he
remained deep sunk in dejectioh. At
length, mastering his emotion, he
looked up. "How did you know about
Quain-that we were together?'' he
"Doggott saw yctt land this morn
ing, and I've been watching you all
clay with my field-glasses, prepared
to take cover tho minute you turned
my way. Don't be angry with me,
David; it wasn't that I didn't yearn to
see you face to face again, but that.
..I didn't dare."
"Oh, that!" exclaimed Amber with
an exasper-ated fling of his hand. "Be
y tween the two of you--you and Qualn
Lyou'll drive me mad with worry."
"I'm sorry, David. I only wvishi V
LImight say more, It hurts a bit to have
you doubt me."
"I don't doubt," Amber declared in
desperation; "at least, I mean I won't
r if you'll be sensible and let me stand
by and see you .through this trouble
whatever it is."
Rutton turned to the fire, his head
drooping despondently. "Trhat may
not be," he said heavily. "The great
est service you can (10 me is to for
got my existence, now and henceforth,
erase our friendship from the tablets
or your memory, Pass me as a stran
ger should ouri ways ever cross
again," . lie flicked the stub of a cig
arette into the flames. "Kismet!..
.I mean that, D~avid, from miy bheart.
Won't you do this for mne-one last
favor, old friend ?"
"Then . . ." Rlutto attempted to
divert the subject. "I think yovu niid
1Quain? Any relation to Quain's
-. 'Aryan Invasion of India?' "
(TO l10 C'ONTrINU1ED.)
S Ideals Always important,
Vit is by beClieving in, loving and fot
lowing illimitable ideals that a mane
' grows great. Their very impossibility
a is their highest virtue. They live be
fore us as the image of that whic1t
we are to grow for ever.-Stopford
Height of Meanness.
5 "Our ne0w neighbor must be a very
stuspiclous character." "Why sof"
I "She emplloys a manid whio is deaf ad