PUBLISHED WE EKLY.
PICKENS, SOUTH CAROT,\AA
The outing bad its inning.
The empty purse needs no vacation.
Vacations are now the regular order
Unhappy the man who has no rear
porch to sleep on.
One way to keep time from flying is
to watch the clock.
Aviators are not considered good in
It a girl has pretty teeth she can
appreciate a good joke.
One way to tell a woman's age is
to read it on her tombstone.
Don't be stingy. Set a basin of wa
ter out in the yard for (he birds.
The man who left $3,000 to a parrot
didn't -lesorvo to have so much
According to milliners, hats will be
lower uoxt season, but not cheapor
we are sure.
Think of the sutffering that would
ensue It the electric fan crop should
be a failure.
[lot weather advice-Do not slap
your neighbor on the back. lto may
A comfortable bank account is a
mighty handy thing to havo when
Frogs will never become household
pets even If they do consume great
quantities of house flies.
It is a cold day when a new aer
plane record is not set, and this is an
unusually warm summer.
A California man, saved from
drowning, gave a dime to his rescuer.
It was a good dime, however.
The tale that $150,000 worth of am
bergris was found in a whale the
other day is quite a fish story.
Unfortunately there are men who
continue to insist on running motor
boats without first learning how.
A whale killed recently yielded
$150,000 worth of ambergris. How
much Is your value in elbowgris?
Youth wins again. A New York
woman wmirted by two brothers
o h" A 1'he acceptLed 76.
Ther% oud 1 : >1 e mu11ch mon01ey"In1
the sale or mirrors- hat vould Cuiible
us to see ourselves as lVpers see us,
And now the dloctors say water is
a good thing to dr1ink at ideals. It
is good to drink at any hour of the
Chicago announes the invenition of
"a safely table knife." Chilcn go no
doubt feels the needl of such a de
An Indianapolis horse was blown
to bits by an ice machine, says an
exchange. \Vhy not "blown to
Scientists toil uis that the winters
of the future wvill be warmer, All of
which affords us little consolation in
A woman in Boston gave a "divorce
dinner" to her friends. Divorce, from
being a social peril, is now a social
The women in Paris, according to
a leading fashion journal, are dress
mad. Ours, we presume, are just
A couple of seventy in Massachu
setts ran away to get married. It is
certainly remarkable howv well Cupid
keeps his youth.
The housefly has to keep busy be.
cause its average life is but three
weeks. It should be swatted while it
Is very young.
If big league baseball scouts know
their busincss they wvill keel) at watch
ful eye on the Texas youth who has
swatted 184,000 flies.
When policemen raided a pooiroom
in New York it was too hot for the
men caught there to run away.
Whieh is another way of breaking
it is glimed that there are as manay
microbes on a dollar bill as on a fly.
Bunt the doilar bill does not make such
desperate and continuous efforts to
alight on you1.
Chicago's cafe bandits have turned
their attention to saloons. Something
in the eating places may have suggest
ed the thirst parlors.
Anklets may be considlered proper ny
Chicago society women, but it is not
likely that they will become popular
in Queen Mary's court.
In view of the fact that tihe water
is tIne it would be a good idea to
learn to swim A swimmer has noth.
n8g to tear from the fool who rocks
AUTIIOR OP "THE BRA
0[L[19Y9UM6U0l@00 h7 1
COP YAVGWTH .0Y L.OLS c/.SCR' VAID'CX
)avid Amber, starting for a duck-shoot
Ing visit with is friend, Qualin. comes up
on a yoting lady equestrian who has bees
disoiionted b)y her horse beconing fright
enedl at the sudden appearance in the roa
of it burly Hindlu. le declares lie I
Beharl I,al Chatteril, "the appointe
lotithpilece of The Hell, aldresses Ambe
R- IL ann of high rank and pressing I
inysterious little bronze box, "The To
ken,"' lito his hand, disappears in th
wood. Tho girl calls Amber by nane
Ho1 in turn miadresses her ias Miss Sophi
arreli. datughter of Col. F"arrell of th
1itishi 11 >nlmatic service in India an
visitting the Quains. Several nights late
the Qurtla hoine is burglarized and th
bronie box stolen. A mher and Quain g
huintira'( on tin lantud anl become lost an
Amher is l"ft miarooned. Ile wander
about, l'inally reaches a cabin and rec
ognizes ts its occupant an old fielne
natnild 11uttonIt, whom lie last met in Erlg
land, atid who appears to be in hiding.
CHAPTER IV. (Continued).
"T'he same man. le asked me dowl
for the shooting-owns a countr,
place across the bay: Tanglewood."
"A very able man; I wish I migh
have met him. . . . What of your
self? What have you been doing these
three years? Have you married?"
"I've been too busy to think o
that. ... I mean, till lately."
Amher flushed boyishly. "There wai
a girl at Quain's-a guest. . . .
lBut she left before I dared speak. Per
haps it was as well."
"llecause she was too fine ani
sweet aid good for me, Rutton."
"Like ev(ry man's first love."
The elder man's glance was keen
too keen for Amber to dissimulate sue
t'essfumlly under it. "You're right,
ie adinitted ruefully. 'It's the firs
sure-enough trou-ible of tie. sort I eve1
experk need. And, of course, it ha
to be lopelets."
"\Whmy?" persisted Rutton.
"lIecause-l've half a notion there'i
a chap waiting for her at home."
"In I'ngland." The need for a con
fldant was suddenly imperative upo
the younigei' man. "She's an Englis
girl--half FEnglish, that is; her moth
er was an American, a schoolmate o
Quain's wife; her father, an English
man in the Indian service.
"Sophia Farrell." A peculiar quall
ty, a certain tensity, in Rutton's nian
ner, forced itself upon Amber's at
tention. "Why?" he asked. "Do yot
know the Farrells? Vhat's the mat
Rutton's eyes met his stonily; on1
of the ashen mask of his face, thal
suddenly had wvhitened beneath thn
brown, they glared, afire but unseeing
Ills hiand~s writhed, his fingers twisting
together wvithi cruel force, the knuckles
gray. Abruptly, as if abandoning th<
attempt to reassert his self-control, hi
jumpedi up andt wvent quickly to a win
dow, there to stand, his back to Am
her, staring fixedly out into the storm
racked night. "I knew her father,'
he saidl at length, his tono constraine<
andl 0(dd, "long ago, in Indlia."
"lHe's out there~ now-a political,
believe they call him, or~ something .o
"She's going out to rejoin him."
"What!" Rutton came swiftly hacl
:o Amber, his voice shaking. "WVha
did you say?"
"Why, yes. She travels with friend:
by the western route to join Colone
Farroll at D~arjeeling, where he's sta
tionedi just now. Shortly after I can<
down sho left; Mrs. Quai had a wir<
a (lay or so ago, saying she was o1
the point of sailing from San Prati
cisco. . . .0Good Lord, Rutton
are you ill?"
Something in the m~an's face has
brought Amber to his feet, a prey t<
inexp~ressible concern; it was as If
mask had dropped and he were looli
ing upon01 the soul of a man in morta
"No," gaspedl Rutton, "I'm all right
flesides," lhe add~edl beneath hi
breath, so that Amber barely caughi
the syllables. "it's too late."
As rapidiy as he had lost he seemel
to regain mastery of his9 inexplicabl
emotion, Ils face became again conr
posed, almost immobilo, and steppin
to the table lhe selectedl a cigarett
and rolled it gently between his sltr
browvn fingers. "I'm sorry to hav
alarmed you," he saId, his tone a bj
too even not to breed a doubt in th
mind of his hearer. "It's nothing ser
ouis-a little trouble of the heart,
long standing, incurable-I hope."
Per'plexedl, yes hesitating to pres
him further, Amber watched him fir
tiv'ely, instinctively assured that ben
tween this man andI the F'arrells ther
existedl some extraordinary bond: wvor
dering how that could be, convince
in his soul that somehow the entar
glement involved the woman he lovec
lie still feared to put his supicions t
the question, lest lhe should learn tha
which lhe had no right to know..
and whlilo ho watched was startled b
the change that came ever Rutton. A
ease, one moment, outwardly comupoi
ed, if absorbed in thought, the next h
was rigid, every muscle taut, ever
nerve tenise as a steel spring. H
hieadl jer'ked back sudd~enlly, his gaz
fixIng itself first upon the wvindov
then shifting to the door. And hi
fingers, contracting, tore the clgarett
"Rutton, what the deuce is the ma
88 BOWL,." LrTC.
Rutton seemed not to hear; Amber
got his answer from the door, which
was swung wide and slammed shut. A
blast of frosty air and a flurry of
snow swept across the room. And
against the door there leaned a man
a puffing for breath and coughing spas
r modically-a gross and monstrous
bulk of flesh, unclean and unwhole
some to the eye, attired in an extrav
agant array of colored garments,
D tawdry silks and satins clinging, sod
I den to his ponderous and unwieldy
"The babu!" cried Amber unconsci
ously; and was rewarded by a flash
of recognition from the coal-black,
beady, evil eyes of the man.
But for that involuntary exclama
tion the tableau held unbroken for a
space; Rutton standing transfixed, the
torn halves of the cigarette between
his fingers, his head well up and back,
his stare level, direct, uncompromis
Ing, a steady challenge to the in
Then, demanding Amber's silence
with an imperative movement of his
hand, Rutton spake. "Well, babu?"
he said quietly, the shadow of a bitter
and weary smile curving his thin,
The Bengali moved a pace or two
from the door, and plucked nervously
at the throat of his surtout, finally
managing to insert one hand in the
folds of silk across his bosom.
"I seek," he said distinctly in Urdu,
and not without a definite note of
menace in his manner, "the man call
hig himself Rutton Sahib?"
Very deliberately Rutton inclined
his head. "I am he."
t "Hazoor!" The babu laboriously
doubled up his enormous body in pro
found obeisance. Having recovered,
he nodded to Amber with the easy fa
miliarity of an old acquaintance. "To
you, likewise, greeting, Amber Sa
"What!" Rutton swung sharply to
Amber with an exclamation of amaze
ment. "You know this fellow, David?"
The babu cut in hastily, stimulated
. by a pressing anxiety to clear himself.
f "Ilazor, I did but err, being misled by
. his knowledge of our tongue as well
as by that pale look of you he wears.
And, indeed, is it strange that I should
- take him for you, who was told to
seek you in this wild land?"
"He silent!" Rutton told him an
"Mly lord's will is his slave's." Re
signedly the babu folded his fat arms.
t "Tell me about this," Rutton do
manded of Amber.
"The ass ran across me in the
woods south of the station, the clay
I camne dowvn," explained Amber, sum
marizing the episode as succinctly as
lie could. "Heb didn't call me by your
name, but I've no dlobut he's telling
the truth about mistaking me for you.
At all events lhe hazoor-ed me a nuim
-ber of timies, talked a lot of rot about
'some silly 'Voice,' and finally made
I me a free gift of a nice little bronze
box that wouldn't open. After which
lihe took to his heels, saying he'd call
f Iltr for my answer-whbatever lie
mecant by that. lIe did call by night
and~ stole the box. That's about all I
know of him, thus far'. But I'd watch
C out for him, if I wvere you; if lie isn't
a raving lunatic, I miss my guess."
"Indeed, my lord, it is all quite as
Sthe sahlb says," the babu admitted
Igraciously, his eyes gleaming with
sardonic amusement. "Circumstances
a conspired to mislead me; but that I
was swift to discover. Nor' (11( 1 lose
i timo in remedying the error, as you
have heard. Moreover-"
He shut up suddenly at a sign from
Rutton, with a ludicrous shrug of his
hiugy shoulders disclaiming any ill-in
tent or wrong-doing; andl while Rut
ton i'emained deep in thought by the
table, the babu held silence, his gaze
Iflickering suspiciously round the
-At length Rutton looked up, sup
a pressing a sigh. "Your errand, babu?"
t "Is it, then, your will that I should
speak before this man?" Trho Bengali
i niodided impudently at Amber.
s "It is my will."
"Shiabash! I bear a message, ha
E zoor', froni the Bell."
0 "You are the Mouthpiece of the
0 "That honor is mine, hazoor. For
t the rest I am-"
e "Behari Lal Chatteri," interrupted
' Rutton impatiently; "soliltor of the
f Ininer Temple-disbarred; anointed
thief, liar, jackal, lickspittle, and per
s jurer-I know you."
"My lor-d," said the man insolently,
"omits from lisa catalogue of my ac
Scomplishimnents my chiefest hotior; lie
'forgets that, with him, I am an ac
cepted Member of the Body."
"The Body wears strange members
that employs you, babu," commented
Rutton bitterly. "It has fallen upon
evil days when such as you are
charged with a message of the feil."
"My lord is harsh to one who would
be lisa slave in all things. Fortunate
e indeed am I to own the protection of
the Token." A slow leer widened
s greasily upon his moon-like face.
e "Alh, the Token!" Hutton repeated
,tensely, beneath his breath. "It is
a true that you have the Troken?"
e "Aye; it is even here, my lord."
The heavy brown hand returned to
t- the spot it had sought soon after the
babu's entrance, within the folds of
silk across his bosom, and groped
therein for an instant. "Even here,"
he iterated with a maddening man
ner of supreme self-complacency, pro
ducing the bronze box and waddling
over to drop it into Rutton's hand.
"My lord Is satisfied?" he gurgled ma
Without answering Rutton turned
the box over in his palm, his slender
fingers playing about the bosses of
the relief work; there followed a
click and one side of it swung open.
The Bengali fell back a pace with a
whisper of awe-real or affected:
"The Token, hazoor!" Amber him
self gasped slightly.
Unheeded, the box dropped to the
floor. Between Rutton's thumb and
forefinger there blazed a great em
erald set in a ring of red old gold.
He turned it this way and that, in
specting it critically; and the lamp
light, catching on the facets, struck
from it blinding shafts of intensely
green radiance. Rutton nodded as
if in recognation of the stone and,
turning, with an effect of carelessness,
tossed it to Amber.
"Keep that for me, David, please,"
he said. And Amber, catching it,
dropped the ring into his pocket.
"My lord is satisfied with my cre
dentials, then?" the babu persisted.
"It is the Token," Rutton assented
wearily. "Now, your message. Be
"The utterances of the Voice be in
frequent, hazoor, its words few-but
charged with meaning: as you know
of old." The Bongali drew himself
up, holding up his head and rolling
forth his phrases in a voice of great
resonance and depth. "These be the
words of the Voice, hazoor:
'To All My Peoples:
" 'Even now the Gateway of Swords
yawns wide, that he who is without
fear may pass within; to the end that
the Body be purged of the Scarlet
"'The Elect are bidden to the Or
deal with no exception."
The sonorous accents subsided, and
"Till We Meet In the Hall
a tense wait ensuedi, none speaking.
Rutton stood In stony apathy, his eyes
lifted to a dim corner of the ceiling,
his gaze-like his thoughts-perhaps
ranging far beyond the dreary confines
of the cabin in the dunes. Minute
after minute pass'ed, lie making no
sign, the babu poised before him in
inscrutable triumph, wvatching him
keenly with his black and 'evil eyes of
a beast. Amber hung breathless upon
the issue, sensing a conflict of terrible
forces in Rutton's mind, but compre
hending nothing of their nature. Rut
ton awoke as from a sleep.
"The Voice has spoken, babu," he
said, not ungently, "and I have heard."
"And your answer, lord?"
"'Thero is no answer."
"I have saidl," Rutton confirmed,
evenly, "there is no answer,"
"You will obey?"
"That is between me and my God.
Go back to the Hall of the Bell, B3e
harn Lal Chatterji, and deliver your
report; say that you have seen me,
that I have listened to the words of
the Voice, and that I sent no answer."
"Hlazoor, I may not. I am charged
to return only with you."
"Make your peace with the Bell in
wvhat manner you will, babu; it is no
concern of mine. Go, now, while yet
time is granted you to avoid a longer
journey this night."
"Go." Rutton pointed to the door,
his voice imperative.
Ho rolled sluggishly toward the
dloor, dragging his iniadequate over
coat across his barrel-like chest; and
paused to cough affectingly, with one
hand onl the knob. Rutton eyed him
'1f you care to run the risk," he
said suddenly, "youi may have a chair
by the fire till the storm breaks,
"Beg ahardon?" The babu,'s eyes
widened.~ "Oah, yess; I see. 'if '
care-to jun risk.' Veree considerate
of you, jm sure. But as we say in
Bengai hee favor of kings isa ass a
sword of two edges.' Noah, thanks;
the servants of the Bell do not linger
by wayside, soa to speak. Besides, I
am in great hurree. Mister Amber,
good night. Rutton Sahib"-with a
flash of his sinister humor-"au re
voir; I mean to say, till we meet in
thee Hall of thee Bell. Good night."
He nodded insolently to the man
whom a little time since he had hailed
as "my lord," shrugged his coat collar
up round his fat, dirty neck, shivered
in anticipation, jerked the'door open
and plunged ponderously out.
A second later Amber saw the con
fused mass' of his turban glide past
The Goblin Night.
Amber whistled low. "Impossiblel"
he said thoughtfully.
Rutton had crossed to and was
bending over a small leather trunk
that stood in one corner of the room.
In the act of opening it, he glanced
over his shoulder. "What?" he de
"I was only thinking; there's some
thing I can't see through in the ba
bu's willingness to go."
"He was afraid to stay."
Rutton, rummaging in the trunk,
made no reply. After a moment Am
"You know what Bengalis are; that
fellow'd do anything, brave any or
dinary danger, rather than try to
cross that sandbar again-if he really
caie that way; which I am inclined
to doubt. On the other hand, lie's in
telligent enough to know that a night
like this in the dunes would kill him.
Vell, what then?"
Rutton was not listening. As Am
ber concluded he seemed to find what
he had been seeking, thrust it hur
riedly into the breast-pocket of his
coat, and with a muttered word, unin
telligible, dashed to the door and:
flung it open and himself out.
With a shriek of demoniac glee the
of The Bell Good Night."
wind entered into and took possession
of the room. A cloud of snow swept
across the floor like a v'eil. The door
battered against the wall as if trying
to break it down. The cheap tin kero
sene lamp jumped as though caught
up by a hand; its flame leapt high and
blue above the chimney-and was not.
In dar-kness but for the fitful flare of
the fire that had been dying in embers
on the hearth, Amber, seeking the
doorwvay, fell over a chair, blundered
flat into the wall, and stumbled un
expectedly out of the house.
His concern was all for Rutton; ho
had no other thought. He ran a little
way down the hollow, heartsick with
hiorror- and cold with dread. Then lhe
paused, bewildered. Whither in that
whirling world Rutton might have
wandered, it was impossible to sur
iuse. In despair the Virginian turned
When he had found his way to the
door of the cabin, it was closed; as
he entered and shut it behind him, a
match flared and expired in the mid
dle of the room, and a man cursed
"Rutton?" cried Amber in a flush
"Is that ypou, Mr. Amber? Thank
Gawd! Wyte a minute."
A second match spluttered, its
flame waxing in the pink cup of Dog
He succeeded in setting fire to the
wick. The light showed him barefoot
and shivering in sirmt and trousers.
"For pity's syke, sir, w'at's 'appened?"
"It's hard to say," replied Amber
vaguely, preoccupied, Hie went im
medliately to a window and stood
there, looking out.
"But w'ere's Mr. Rutton, sir?"
"Gone-out ther-e-I don't know just
wher-e." Anmber moved back to the
table. "You see, lie had a calloer."
"A caller-, sir-on a night like this?"
"The man lie came lhere to hide
from," said Amber.
"1 knewv 'e was tryin' to dodge
somethin', sir; but 'e never told mec
naught about it. Wha tm ind ofap
son was 'e, sir, and 'what made M4
Rutton go aw'y with 'Sm?"
"He didn't; he went after hin to
Amber caught his tongue on
the verge of an indiscretign; no mat
ter what his fears, they were not yet
become a suitable 'subject for discus
sion with Rutton's servant. "I think,"
he amended lamely, "he had forgotten
"And 'e's out there now! My Ga*d,
what a night!" He hung in hesitation
for a little. "Did 'e wear 'is topcoat
and 'at, sir?"
"No! he went suddenly. I don't
think he intended to be gone long."
"I'd better go after 'im, then. 'E'll
'ave pneumonia. . . . I'll just jump
into me clothes and-" He slipped
into the back room, to reappear with
surprisingly little delay, fully dressed
and buttoning a long ulster round his
throat. "You didn't 'appen to no
tice which w'y 'e went, sir?"
"As well as I could judge, to the
Doggott took down a second ulster
and a cap from pegs in the wall. "I'll 4
do my best to find 'im; 'e might lose
'imself, you know, with no light nor
The door slammed behind him.
Alone, and a prey to misgivings he
scarce dared name to himself, Am
ber from the window watched the blot
of light from Doggott's handlamp fade
and vanish in the storm; then, becom
ing sensible to the cold, went to the MW
fireplace, kicked the embers together
until they blazed, and piled on more
A cozy, crackling sound began to
be audible In the room, sibilant Jets of
flame, scarlet, yellow, violet, and
green, spurted up from the driftwood.
Under the hypnotic influence of the
comforting warmth, weariness de
scended upon Amber like a burden;
he was afraid to close his eyes or to
sit down, lest sleep should overcome
him for all his intense excitement and
anxiety. lie forced himself to move
steadily round the room, struggling
against a feeling that all that he had
witnessed must have been untrue, an
evil dream, akin to the waking vis
ions that had beset him between the
loss of Quain and the finding of Rute
ton. The very mediocrity of the surw
roundings seemed to discrelit thah
testimony of his wits.
In a setting so hopelessly common
place and everyday, one act of a
drama of blood and fire had been
played; into these mean premises the
breath of the storm, as the babu en
tered, had blown Romance. . .
And yet Amber's hand, dropping
idly in his coatpocket, encountered a
priceless witness to the reality of
what had passed. Frowning, troubled,
he drew forth the ring and slipped it
upon his finger; rays of blinding em
erald light coruscated from, it, daz
zling him. With a low cry of wonder
he took it to the lamplight. Never
had he looked upon so finefg-itone, so
It was set in ruddy soft gold, work
ed and graven with exquisite art in
the semblance of a two-headed cobra;
Inside the band was an inscription so
worn and faint that Amber exp~er
ienced some diffiulty in dliciphering
the word Rae (king) in Devanagari,
flanked by swvastikas. Aside from the
stone entirely, he speculated, the
value of the ring as an antique would
have prVoven inestimable. As for the
emerald itself, in its original state,
before cutting, it must have been
worth the ransom of an emperor;
much had certainly been sacrificed to
fashion it in its present form.
To gaze into its dlepths was like
questioning the inscrutable green
heart of the sea. Fascinated, Amber
felt his consciousness slip from himt
as a mantle might slip from his shoul
ders; awake, staring wide-eyed into
the emerald eye, he forgot self, for
got the world, and dreamed, dreamed
The crash of the door closing be
hind him brought him to the right.
about in a lpanic flutter, He glared
stupidly for a time before comprc.
hending that Rutton and Doggott had
If there were anything peculiar in
his manner, Rutton did not remark it.
Indeed, he seemedl unconscious, for a
time, of the presence either of Amber
or of Doggott. The servant relieved
him of his overcoat and hat, andl ho
strodle directly to the fire, bending
over to chafe and warm his frost
nllpped hands. Unquestionably he la
bored under the influence of an ex
traordinary agitation. Ills limbs
twitched and jerked nervously; his
eyebrowvs were tensely elevated, his
eyes blazing, his nostrils dlilated; his
face was ashen gray.
From across the room D~oggott sig
naled silence to Amber, with a foire
finger to his lips; andl with a discre
tion bred of long knowledge of his
master's temper, tiptoed through into
the back room and shut the door.
Amber respected the admonition
throughout a wait that seemed end
(TO nfl (ONTINUIED.)
"A barber was picked up on the
sidewvalk yesterday, foaming at the
"What, do you suppose, brought on
"I don't know, b~ut he was found in
front of a billboard, on whieh there
was a safety-razor advertisement 2(4
Where the Charm Failed.
Loomiis--Carey, the aviator, seenms
to bear a charmed life; trip after trip
he has made in his airship, ascending
hundreds of feet, and never has had
'.he sign of an accident,
Ranler--But I heard he broke his.
Loomis--Oh, he broke that by fal,
ing down his cellar stairs.
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