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COMRADES OF PERI
By RANDALL PARRISH
Coplsgbt A. C MeC"l & CO
Synopeis.--Tom Shelby. a rancher.
rides into the frontier town of
Ponca, looking for a good time
after a long spell of hard work
and loneliness on the ranch. In
stead, he runs into a funeral-that
of Dad Calkins, a retired army
man of whom little is known. A
girl, still, in her teens, survives
Calkals. McCarthy. a saloon keep
er and Ponca's leading citizen, de
cides that the girl, now alone in
the world, should marry. She
agrees to plf. out a husband from
the score of men lined up in her
home. To his consternation, she so
lects Shelby, who had gone along
merely as a pectator. He declinbe
the honor. Indignant, the girl dis
miases the . assemblage. Shelby
runi into two of the r-jected e.it
oe, and . i Aght worsts them
both. Angered at their remarks.
he returns to the girl, determined
to marry her. If she will have him.
After his explanation she agrees to
marry him. The wedding takes
place and the couple set out for
Shelby's ranch. With them is
"Kid" Macklin, whom Shelby has
hired as a helper. On the way the
girl tells her husband her name is
Olga Carlyn, and also tells him
something of the peculiar circum
stances of her life. Upon arrival
at the ranch Shelby is struck down
from behind and left for dead. He
recovers consciousness to find that
Macklin and his wife have gone.
He starts in pursuit.
` 'et ft was actually true; Imposalble
aas it seemed, it was nevertheless an
Incontrovertible fact. He had never
spoken to her a single word of love:
he had never even kissed her, and
st, before both God and man, she
was his wife. The strangeness of the
sitSatilo bewildered him. Why, lie
did not even know who she was:
what' right she had to claim the family
name under which be had married
her: what strange story of crime
bight shadow her history. It was all
aiystery. a mystery in which he was
becoming. deeply Involved. Calkins
had evidently been hidlnl her from
some fate, hut whether of good or
evil, could not yet be determined. This
present abduction, beyond question.
had to do with that concealed pest,
peahps with some happening before
she was even born. These fellows
were not robbers; their raid was not
tled fr any sac purpose: they
a ,d t ched thiak, even the harass
*ere left undisterbed In the corral,
sad the mement they gained posses
ale of her they had bhrriedly depart.
.4e It bad al been carefully planned.
ttl MacrUm 'to beese the timae and
them secuted quietly. Their only mie
take was in leaving 61 behind alive
t fer that one error ao ome ever
'mw.ebhirmve knowa what had seeorred,
al desmed of her fete. And now. as.
s &of safety. #elaeing the dead
t-hi tell ao tales, that they had left
- " due evideane of their crimae. the
si* was eden eareissely sao the
ispely prairie. seeking somewhere a
!wisy raeied bhi borne to the left,
aguagh a water hole he remom
bl riam st aEn, n a, and then
b while tle alnmal goquem ed
La.L te the b11k-1e tshre,
I eia trailing so the pound, he
b step a4Q ae of a butte. and
hTO19,-hi i heatshe with a Sold
iasew s teees waste! war
bC M te M et aof tI e. Net a thlng
merid e-wd am raise of
0 t tut, hbe nmapped th
ek late their ease.
0111 reep t cc wt the
se wcf a s time pant the
and he felt evriaeet the.w
VII uird esuld not he tar from the
e s iavee ing to locate, He
:1saii It In les than an hour.
Watiat dewn a narrow val
mSiiatluare was dtnietty
wish are. 'This was his party
a dotk-ve hbao one wth
*~u l ar . ,sfind whee the
...huis. .eda _n. among
-P? . gp fod, ,dJ
fa rans, feo m
ir m * op in doqiepa
ead .bouet perhaps hod
-s blew sen, hru hat r
b·~tobat tlued the feet
bHLee that ftar
Witfh -e ev
u umad. a toi
outlaws. Thes.e fellows evdently werr
heading for there, hut would :hey tr3
to complete tie journey? Ills hops
centered on their -ampinh s.omewherI
until morning; if sufficiently assured
of safety this would probably he their
choice. Through the field glasses he
studied the course of the streamn,.and
the little patches of wood Intently. At
last he was rewarded-a faint spiral
of blue smoke arose above some dis
tant trees, the evidence of a camp
fire. He lay there motionless, silent,
his eyes glued to the glass, planning
his action, and -waiting for the night.
As the gloom slowly deepened Shel
by was able to distinguish the flicker
of that fr.*ae i3re .at the distance
was .o great to permit any knowl
edge of its surroundings. The tridl
leading down was narrow, and rock
strewn, and he determined to try the
passage while a faint glimmer of twi
light yet lingered. Leading the buck
skin, and moving with the utmost cau
tlon. he began the descent.
The gloom did not greatly retard his
movements, for, through tire glasses,
he had mapped out the salient fea
tures, and so impressed them upon his
memory as to go forward now con
fldentlv. The camp fire was located in
the third grove of trees, and there
were no signs of human presence be
tween. However, he took no chance.
but advanced quietly on foot, leading
his horse, and using every precaution
against discovery. "
He circled the two groves, keeping
close in their shadow. and searching
their depths anxiously for any sign of
life. They were desolate and desert
ed, but, from ,the outer fringe of the
second he could perceive plainly the
dull glow of the fire a hundred yards
ahead. It was no longer a flame, but
a ndere glimmer of red ashes, casting
no reflection abhout, although clearly
visible. He fastened the bronco to a
limb, within the circle of trees, and
crouched forward alone, Winchester
In hand, choosing his passage beneath
the bank of the stream. and advanc
ing with every precaution, pausing
every few steps, to peer over the pro
tecting bank. and thus assure himself
that all remained quiet. When almost
exactly opposite the red glow of the
coals. he lay still, endeavoring vainly
to learn the situation, and becoming
more and more puzzled.
The camp appeared deserted, as
though the party which had halted
there had already passed on. He could
hear no sound, see no movement, The
fire had died down into a mere glim
mer of red ashes, barely perceptible
amid the surrounding gloom. Shelby
drew himself forward, creeping like a
snake, convinced that he was alone,
yet no oss alert and watchful. His
progress was up a shallow depression,
and he had attained the deeper shade
of the trees,5when, suddenly, a voice,
apparently speaking not two yards
distant, gave utterance to an oath of
"B--1f" the voice said roughly,
"there is no use waittn' for that guy
any longer; no tellin' where e is at
Shelby dropped flat on bts face al
most ceasing to breathe. The unseen
party addressed stretched himself
lazily, as evidenced by the rustle of
"I reckon ye're right, ank."' be ad
mitted slewly, his speech heavy and
oeeare. "HNo tenderfoot ain't glin' ter
alke that tarlil at ntight. ~Mr'n IIke
ly be's. alai' t`r corm' through the
."Whatb l we do the-rede at"
"tatw a bt: its early yet, a' may
h tl do ae harm to lie quet awhie.
But we hae lght ap, se' he cor
We asLmek a motch, bellowin the
Iam.ea his hean9 reveaIag the
u , ,the Ithr, a inr, , as,. - *
sw di r we asm
s s as
~~ r uiw~
~~ ~ ida
to myself. Mostly I pulled the facts
out of that Kid Macklinl when he was
drunk. 'cause he wanted me to help
him. But it seems he's only hired fer
the job; it's that guy we're waitin' for
who has got the real dope, and like
wise the long-green."
"Churchill's his name, ain't it?"
"That's the duffer; some big feller
down East; Virginia, as I understand
-Judge Cornelius Churchill; the
whole story goes a h-1 of a long
He leaned his head against the tree
trunk behind him. puffing away at
the cigarette between his bearded
lips. the dull glow barely touching his
face. The younger man leaned for
"Well," he said impatiently, "that
ain't all of It: what started the rump
us? What's the idea of stealin' the
girl? An' just whar do you an' me
"Well, as I figure it, we've got to
make our own medicine. You saw that
outfit go along afore dark-Macklin
an' the four reds?"
"Sure; they had a woman with
"That's the ticket, an' they was
bound for Wolves' hole. I thought
maybe they'd camp down here, but
they didn't-just kept movin'. Well.
that's one thing you an' I laid out here
for, to get a line on Macklin. The
other thing Is that tills yere Cornelius
Churchill is about due also, an' is
most likely to blow in along this same
trail. It is my notion to have a word
privatelike with that gent before Joe
gets to him-see?"r'
"Can't say that I do. Hanley, exact
ly. What's It all about-the girl?"
"Mostly, I reckon, an' a h-1 of a
slice of money down Fast. This is
how. the Kid blew it to me. It seems
an army officer named Carlyn 'bout
the time the Civil war closed, ran
away with a Rose Churchill down in
Virginia, and married her. All he
cared for was the girl, an' he never
even knew she was rich, only that her
family objected to him, an' that they'd
have to skip out. I reckon, maybe,
she didn't know it herself at the time,
nor the rest o' the Churchill family,
for they didn't make no great effcr:
to find her for some while. Then,
when they opened a will. they discov
ered that most all the Churchill for
tune had been left to this Rose. and
they naturally becom' mighty inter
ested. Cornelius. as I understand,
was the brother of Rose's father, an'
the property was put in his hands as
trustee on behalf of the girl. Maybe
he was a straight enough guy general
ly speaking, but he had expected to
get most of this dough after the girl
skipped out, an' was ceansequently al
mighty hot. Naturally he wanted to
keep the stuff, an' he didn't make no
great effort to locate the heiress. By
the time he did learn who she had
malrled. Ro, died, leaving a daugh
ter. By thfterms of the will if she
died childless the entire estate revert
ed to Cornellus, and he wasn't the
sort o' guy to lose that kind o' bet."
"An' this soldier never suspected
"Not a thing. He was a colonel by
this time. out at some frontier post,
and left his baby to the care of some
relatives in the East. There wasn't
no fuss made. an' so Churchill sorter
let affairs sllide along. He had the use
of the money, an' begun to think
there never would be no trouble. Of
course he kept a line on the husband,
but lost trace of the kid entirely."
"Yer mean the colonel never even
know'd he'd married a rich girl?"
"So It seems. I reckon she didn't
even know it. his wife. But after
awhile some Inkling of the truth must
have reached him, for he went East
and began to make inquiries through
a lawyer. When Churchill heard about
this he got scared. I reckon he'd
played h-i with the trust funds by
that time. an' with the husband on his
trail got mighty desperate. Meanwhile
the daughter was in some convent
school. and not to be found. Carlyn
-truck a hot trail all right, bjt, be
fore he* could take any action, was
shot anIdl killed In a street fight with
some roughs In Sheridan. Nobody
knows for sure just how it happened
hut it's my opinion Churchill got up
thei row just to get him out o' the
way. It all happened sadden, an' un
-xpeered, the only fellow with the
coloni at the time being an old ser
neat. named Calklns Calkins was
shot himself, hat got away, and took
care of Caelyn till he died, naybe an
hour later. Enyhow be kept the fel
low-s from getting bold o' any papers.
an' I reckon the colonei give him an
idea of what was up."
"What nmkes you think so?"
"The way he acted afterward.
Charchill had got Carlyn out of the
way. hat he couldn't locate the girl.
He didn't suspect the sergeant at first.
nr for a long time?. He was a foxy
uy. and stack to the army for severnal
earrs. never makin' a move. Jusot
pa-ia' for the girl's seheoolin', hbt
never glan' aear her. Then, when
ear6yhedy had quit watcidtn' him. Cal
ln_ teak his dtseharge papers, aml
akipped aut. takit' the girl witb
How eoeld he do that?"
i7 t w Ia*q basked iea, a'
he saitd emn sefm dat that
dwl' the time betw.ee vhe Cariyn
. satbor ab' when he died, he'd
- a apw rmkim' alkems th
- ta tlIt al pa ,him the ·ar
-a adeelt hba.kam c a. whres
iMW it*t ' st harm a
hid out all 'round the country with
the girl. I don't call that playin' very
"Well, it was, Just the same, d-d
square, if you aisk me. It was what
Weeks advised him to do, after he
went to Virginia. an' got a peelp at a
copy of the will on file. This girl had
no legal rights till she was of age;
see! Churchill knew this, an' he
didn't do much o' anything else fer
ten years. but try to get his hands iln
her. Old Culkins was smart eninclh
to fool him. The colonel had mosey
enough In the deposit box, so they
could live on it quietlike. an' the ser
geant never wasted a cent. He just
naturally lived for that girl. till about
a month ago. He was smart enough
not even to trust her: she never knew
what they was hidin' from."
Fank touched a match to another
cigarette. Impressed with the story.
"Rum kind of a business. I'd say."
be admitted at last, "hut just where
did this devil's imp of a Macklip fit
"T ain't got that all figured out yet."
admitted Hanley. "Ton know pretty
near as much about him as I do. Furst
time I saw the feller he rode in yere
along with Cassady's outfit. after that
N. P. holdup, an' he's been trainin'
with Cnsaady more or less ever since.
After I had this talk with him. when
he was drunk. I put him to bed. an'
picked up a letter, or two, what fell
out of his pocket. I got some o' this
stuff out o' them. One of them was
written by Churchill. an' judgin' from
the way it read, the Kid ain't really
named Macklin at all-he's a Churchill
himself. the old cuss' son."
"'ell, I'll he d-d!"
"You know the rest: how he stum
bled onto ol' Calkins down in Ponen.
an' what happened. You can't make
me believe the old fellow killed him
"What's the Idea of Stealln' the Girl?"
self; he wasn't that kind. But. how
ever it happened, the girl was left
helpless; then d-d if she didn't marry
that rancher over on the Cottonwood,
an' spoll the whole game."
Hank laughed coarsely.
"Tough luck; but the Kid played
his hand all right."
"Sure he did. but he had to bean
this fellow Shelby. Except for that
job It wasn't so had. for It was easier
to get her where he wanted her. I
don't know how he'd have managed at
Ponca, but there was just the three
of 'em on the Cottonwood."
"And dead men don't talk."
"Well. they're safer than live ones
enyhow. Then tids Injun outbreak
comlm' right now makes the get-away
plum easy. He can hide her away
back In the Hole as long as he d4-n
pleases. Everythlin will be laid to
the Sloux for awhile."
"It's a sure break. then?"
"Sure: all the young backs are al
ready out. Macrklin had four with
him on this chase-took 'em on pur
pose, so if they was ever trailed they'd
sav it was an Injun job. Oh. he's cov
ered up things all right. You got it
Hank drew up his feet until his
chin rested on his knees, the tip of
the cigarette glowing.
"I got it straight enough. so far as
that goes, Henley, but I don't see what
the h-l we're goln' to get out of It."
"You've got the same love for the
Kid I have, ain't yerT"
"Just about. I reckon. I'd sure like
to take a good swipe at the ornary,
"That's what I thought. Well, he
aln't goin' to do nothin' desperate to
this young woman till he hears from
the old man. This affair has been
pulled off hurriedlike, an' all the Kid
has got In his mind right now Is to
hide her away somewhere, until old
Churchill shows up, and decides what
to do with her."
"\Vhat do you quppose hell decide?"
"Well. my notion is that if Macklitn
is the old man's son, he'll try to force
her Into marryln' the bohey. That would
be the easy way. an' I believe that
will likely be their scheme. My idea
is to put a crl~ l i It."
"By getting hold of her ourselves
before the old man shows up, an' then
doln' business with him."
"WVhere'll we take her?"
"Back Into Wolves' hole: there's
bldln' places there a plenty, tn' with
them Injuns raisin' b-- ap north, it'll
he safe ecough, antil thq war's over
eanhybow. What do yer say?"
"H-I. I don't care;' there aln't
nuthbln' to lose. You got the Kid .hem
"Yes; he never told enybhody wbkt
was ap but me, All rht, let's mosey
siod; there's as me atar' here."
The Trail t Welv~' Hele.
shelb lifted baiself ea n elbow,
ad vetuored t brete rally moe
-o .-l- res. 'eme snlws e t two
Im aimd valihd but thibr pr-sse
-tag thebiubw . eld ble plab
_ N4tellaughes Jtel themhel
tmusemem mani m th, wilimm..
neither made the slightest effort ,t
proceed silently. Shelby sant upright
on the edge of the gully, s'ruaning his
eyes through the darkneea
A strange fortune had brought him
the very information he most needet.
Ills whole thought centered Instantly
on the fate of the girl. What courlr
would site choose undller these circu1n.
stnnees, wvhen the facts were finatll
revelhtdl to her? I'ndoubhtedly she ,he
lieved him deal; her captors wollI
Impres s that fact upon her t'rst of ll
so as to l;take her realize her comy
plete helplessness. I.esides. shel cnael
nothing for him: ha:d married him In
differently. merely to thus escape.
from a worse fate. lie could not hop.
that loyalty to him. under such condi
tions, would greatly ltnfluence her de
cision. Somehow the thought hurt
Shelhy. and brought to him the knowl
edge that he did care. He enared very
much indeed. and this truth colored
his thought and decision.
He dare not follow those men at
present ; he could only wait where he
was, and plan his course of action.
There was no danger of his losing
them, for he knew where they were
going, and. In a measure. at least.
about who they were. Shelby had
never heen In that strange sink known
as Wolves' hole, but he had talked
with a man who had. An immense
hole in the Bad Lands. through which
flowed a branch of the Cottonwood. a
strange malformation of nature. so
completely concealed an to he Invisible
until the surprised traveler stood on
its very edge, and stared down Into
the gloomy depths below. The walls
were precipitous. Impa:ssahle except
on foot by daylight, and at only two
points could the sink he entered on
horseback ; from the west beneath the
protection of a cataract, where the
stream plunged headlong over a high
ledge of stone, and from the other
extremity down a narrow ravine
-hrough a tunnel scooped out hv some
'orrent in long-past ages. Originally
discovered by wandering trappers.
who camped there out of the winter
storms. it had lnter hbeomn the head
qluarters for an Illicit Indian trade in
liquor, and finally.v the rendezvous for
criminals of all kinds, eager to get
beyond the reach of the law. It was
rumored that there was actually a
town there. with women of a class.
with a certain rude attempt at cov
ernment by a few self-constituted au
"What a hole I What a freak
of natureal What a wilder
mess hiding placeI"
(TO BE CONTINULED.)
RIVERS TURNED INTO SEWERS
Streams That Once Were Famous Lon
don Thoroughfares Now Are Far
Under the Ground.
The river Tyburn, which, along with
the Thames. helped to make Westmin
ster. in Londoun. an Island in Saxon
times, can still be traced from the Mar
ble arch neighborhood to Westminster.
It originally 4towed through Hyde park
and St. James' park at a time when
these were marshlands. Several feet
below the pavetment in Great College
street are the remains of a bridge
which spanned the Tyhurn at this spot
just before it entered the Thames.
But the most famous of all the bur
led rivers of London is undoubtedly
the .Fleet. It flowed through Jack
Ketch's warren, where dwelt at times
such notorious characters as Dick Tur
pin and Jack Sheppard. It was a fa
vorlte dodge of the highwaymen and
other thieves who Infested the district
of Saffron hill and Hatton garden to
drop through a trapdoor to the Stygtan
banks of the Fleet. pull a plank after
them and so escape capture by the
Bow street runners. The Fleet ditch
ran Into the Thames at Blackfrirar
and small craft used to put into It
In the middle of the city was the
Wellhrooke. and on the east side the
Langhourne, and In the western
suhurhb the pleasmat stream of the
Oldbourne. elso deep enough to accon
modate good-sized craft. Other Ion
don rivers not yet wholly sewers are
the Rodlng. the Lea. the Ravenshourne
and the Wandle. but the Brixton is no
longer visible anywhere.
Owls Lodge in Oxford.
Owls, as Ii proper in the ease of
hbirds of such renowned solemnity arid
secluded habit,' have always exhihlted
a particular liking for ()xford. whee
more than one college. hut particeulur
ly Worester. has its colony.
Recently they have estabhltshed a
ngw colony in the irvy-covered walls of
the Bodwlein libhrary and the Tower of
the Five (rders, in the Old Schools
Memlbers of the Rodley staff now oc
casilonally find relaxation from the'r
duties by rescuing the young bird..
which fintd their waV down on to the
pavement of the quandrangle. and are
nnahle to fly up to their nests.-West
A Slight Omission.
Bertle-(Joodl heavelns! What a sight
Iteggle-Just as I was leaving lthe
lhouse to 'otle to thle club luy wife
peltledl lte with flowers.
"RBut that ielsnll't acnount for your
hruistd aMid battered ailalerulis*t."
"No. you see. she furgIt to take llemh,
out of te puts "-From thile iCdlllmnhrl..
Odd Newspaper Subscrlptiona.
Greenland hasn't many newspapers
of any kind. but the oddest of them
ail is a monthly paper called the
Kalorlkmlt. (Did you get your tongue
twisted after pronouancing this name?)
The maost unasmal thing about this pr
per is that a three omethe ub' bcrlp
tiea costs two ducks, while it requires
a uble skia to pay tfr a year.
One Thiub Certalj
A Ne Torb apartment base ad
vertises several alx-room saltes at
p1US1 a "ear. We aknew nothla
abert these mates, but we do know
that the teaat who oeeaplew e a of
thm .oem't make his mae pleladg
THE GYPSY SINGER
By GEORGE SAND
Irving Bach .ller
Lcile-Aurore Dapla, as she was born
In Berry In 1804, was the great-gremt
granddau ghter of the famous Marshal
Saxe. She had la her veins the blood
of peasant and aristocrat, which
brought to her that umderstandlng of
both which played N great a part Im
her future books.
Married to a Momaleur Dudevant, who
had o understanding of her intensely
romantie and imaglastive tempera
meat, she early separated from him,
and ln 1881 mado her way to Paria to
make a living for herself and her two
children In whatever humble way she
couid. Fertanately for the world and
for herself all failed tiE she diseovered
that she could write. She quickly made
her pseudomym of George uand famous.
There foUlewed a Ufe of prodigious in
dustry with the pea. The Freceh edt
tlon of her works mantain 107T volumes.
She died inm 187lT.
George sand was a moat extrmerdi
nary human betas. Posseaaed of a
great fund of common sense, she had
the heart of a gamin. She introdueed
the French peasant to literature with
a rare understandlan, yet she wasu a
mous An Parts for her adventure with
Alfred de Musset, her cigars and her
masculine attire. She was the high
priestess of the great romantic move
meat, yet she has palainted the simple
life of raral Franme as no other writer
"UIdln," e"Letis." "Conauelo," "La
Mare an Diable," "La Petite Fadette."
"Francois Ie ChampL" "Le Marquis de
Villemer" are but a few of the beeks
of a woman of genius.
ANZOLETO was a street gamin
of Venice. He had learned how
to sing In Professor Porpora's
school. He was handsome. He had
imagination which colored his fine
voice when he sang. Consuelo. a
scrawny, dark-skinned Spanish peasant
girl, was another of Porpora's pupils.
She was plain, but had a, beautiful
voice and spirit.
She and Anzoleto were good friends.
nothing more, but he-an errant philan
derer--was always falling in love and
coming to Consuelo for sympathy and
advice. He was a rascal and an in
Consuelo made her first publie ap
pearance in the simple dress of a
peasant girl, and her voice--filled with
the fire of her soul-took the city.
Everyone was at her feet. Young
suitors sought her hand and among
them was Anzoleto. It was the reo
mantic period in Venetian history.
about 1650. Consuelo engaged herself
to her fellow-pupil, but repulsed the
others. Her genius had won admira
tion; her dignity and modesty had
The Count Justinian not only en
gaged her for his theatre, but fell in
love with her and tried to win her from
Anzoleto. She would not be led away
and made it a part of her contract
that her betrothed should also be en
gaged to sing. Her sweetness and
fidelity the more deeply enmlaved the
Consuelo's rival, a singer named
Corilla, was bitterly incensed by the
action of the count. Anzoleto played
on her jealousy and pretended to be
her lover. Of this perfidy Consudlo
At the first public performance Con
suelo achieved renewed success, but
Ansoleto was almost overlooked.
Her teacher warned her not to
marry Ansoleto and to prove his case
forced her to visit the home of Corilla.
They found Ansoleto there and Con
seolo was convinced of his perfidy.
She repulsed Ansoleto. retosed the
love of the count and fled to Vienna
on the advice of Porpora.
A little later. Porpora sent her to
his fMend. Count Christian of Bohemis.
to serve as companion to his niece. the
Baroness Amella. just come from a
convent school at Prague. Consuelo.
who arrived at the castle on a stormy
night. .was in awe of the count and
his surroundlngs. but Amelia. a lovely
girl, reassured her and won her instant
affectlon. That night, as Consuelo
came. an ancient tree on the estate.
known as the tree of misfortune, fell
In the storm.
News of its fall threw the count's
honusehold into contadsion and terror.
"Some 'evil Is abroad." the conntens
said, and soon after Count Albert, the
son. entered, a handsome, pale and
sad young man, who annonnced that
a strange peace was about to settle
over the honuse. He smiled at Con
m.elo, touched her hand and withdrew.
leaving her deeply mystified.
Albert. she Msoon learned, was a gen
tie and admirable sonal. hut a man of
morbid moods which were in effect
trances and was only mildly interested
in Amella, who was intended to be hib
Amelia told Consnelo that Albert was
not only amedium. but a seer as well
ss a scholar and that she found him an
Consnelo. on the contrary, was
charmed with Albert. who seemed much
benedfited by her presence. He accept
ed her as the consolatlou promised by
an inner voice. Her singing called him
from his trances, transported and
strengthened him. She became his phy
sielan as well as his confessrir.
She found herself surrounded by
mysteries. Secret doors, inexplicable
-ames, gliding phantoms stirred her
eurloaety and allured ber to explora
Hydrogen and Oxygen Bases
Oxygen and hydrogem are very dit
-arent gae: the fermer helps other
--bstanes to born, but is not telmf
esfammable, while the latter is in
famma-bs, but doss not support the
mbetimomn of other materals. IFor
this reason hydrogen gas wil not set
Ere to the oall oxygam waud do, blt
s It Is aa iauimmaWbe gas it is very
dagerus t' headle and are ambld
tion. Once when Albert had been miss
Ing for a time they led her to a well.
She descended it and found a secret
passage. This she traversed and be
yond it found ber lover deranged and
ill, in the care of an Imbecile servant.
She nursed him back to health.
Consuelo's exposure and excitement
in this midnight expedition produced a
violent fever and Albert's love and care
deepened. For a time it seemed us
though he might win her hand. but be
tween these devoted young people the
dissolute Anzoleto thrust himself.
Although at first she gave way be
fore him, Consuelo regained her self
control and put him aside. The good
Count Christian, finding her nobly
frank about her early life, not only ex
pressed his admiration, but requested
her to marry his son, whose reason she
To this she answered, "The honor is
very great, but I am a singer. I must
return to my art."
To avoid Ansoleto she fled by night
toward Vienna in order to rejoin Por
pora, her teacher. Consuelo reached
there only to find old Porpoa a master
without a school or a pupil.
In her attempts to secure a position
at the Court theater she failed by rea
son of the opposition of the Empress
Maria and the enmity of Corilla, her
bitter rival. The corruption, the sav
age hatreds which marked the atmos
phere of the court and the theater, led
her to dream of Albert and the mar
riage he had offered.
At last she wrote to Albert, express
Ing her love for him.
Porpora, to whom she gave her let
ter to post, burned it and wrote one of
his own to Count Christian. He was
Jealous of her art and desired to profit
Six weeks passed. Consuelo heard
nothing from Albert. and as a sudden
chance to sing in opera came to her,
she accepted it. Her goodness and gen
erosity had won even Corilla, who
yielded her part to her.
One day, while rehearsing for Zeno
bla, her first great part. Consuelo
thought she saw Count Albert in the
dark spaces of the theater, a silent,
flitting, mysterious figure.
At about this time, Baron Trenck,
the notorious pandour and freebooter,
comnlag to the city chanced to see Con
suelo, and Instantly fell in love with
her, as did all men. She was terrified
by his fierce manner and his disfigured
One night he forced his way Into her
dressing room, and pleaded for her
love. He cast magnificent jewels at
her feet and then in a transport of
fury, seized her in his arms as itf to
carry her away.
A disguised. powerful man darted
through the door, seized the bandit and
threw him down the iron stairway.
Although her rescuer's face was cer
ered. Consuelo believed t-m to be
Count Albert. She called, she ran to
ward him. but he was gone. As she
stood looking down the dark stairway
the prompter announced the second act
of the play and she went on the stage
as Zenobla. adding to her triumphs.
She sang now for Albert, believing that
he was somewhere In the audience.
Her conviction was confirmed when
amid the flowers which fell around her,
flung by the empress and the people of
the court, she picked up a small sprig
of cypress, which was to her a sign
of grief and despair. It was like a
symbol of death.
In the midst of her uncertainty' a
letter came from the director of the
Royal theater in Lelpsic. offering her a
fine engagement. An agent brought the
papers with him. Consuelo desired to
leave Vienna. for the empress was de
termined that she should nmrry one of
As Porpora had destroyed her letter
to Count Albert, so now he pretended
to have had a reply in which Count Al
bert renounced all claimha upon her.
With nnshaken faith in her old
teacher, Conmelo sorrowfully accepted
the new engagement, signed the con
tract and started for Germanal.
It happened that the king of Prus
alas, Frederlck the Great, traveling in
cognito, met her and was so pleased
with her that he gave orders for her
entertainment nla his capital, bat com
manded that Porpora should be sent
back to Vienna.
All these plans, however. failed, for
Baron Rudolstadt. uncle of Count Al
bert. brought word that the youngn man
was dylang and greatly longed to see
(Connelo before he passed away. With
out a moment's hesitation she hastened
to the castle.
Willed with exalted love and pity.
Consuelo kissed the dying man. realiz
ing that be was even then hardly more
than a spirit. He desired her to mar
ry him. In order that his fortune and
his title might pass to her. and so firm
and Insistent was his demand that
Count Albert lived only a few honurs
after the ceremony, leaving Conuelo
sorrowful, but after all, at peace. Then
she turned her face toward the tem
pie of her art.
Copyright. 1919. by the Post Publishingl
Co. (The Boston Post). Copyright in the
United Kingdom. the Dominions. Its Col
onies and dependencies, under the copy
right act, by the Post Publishing Co.,
Botrton. Mass., U. 8. A. All rights re
Children Aid War Orphans.
Children in th', public schools are
said to be more responsive than any
other single class In the country to
the appeals which are being made for
the relief of orphans in the war strick-.
en countries of the old wor:d. In one
little town where Miss Katherine Rey
nolds McCormick. lecturer In the in
terest of Near East Relief. had told
the school children of the frightful
plight of the orphans of Armenia the
yonngsters voluntarily undertook a
campaign of their own which in two
days added $554 to the fund.
Don't Be a Crape Hanger.
It'si easy to fall into the eape-ag.
ing habit Lack of initiative and
sluggish or no thinklng have put many
a well-meanlIg chap late the droopblg.
mouth class Then with the proper -
oeclatloms it depmrsing theught the
way to muekrake levels is easy. ,O(
crse yeo doa't want to be a rvel
ing worm of the dst. Nobedy ever
does tis then thegs see few that by
riht are stars, .thoSg many Ym
omald he if they valp pay the mle
The wam ao progres Ia the way St hs